Chapter 1 - The Fireplace That Was Never There
The police station smelled of burnt coffee and floor cleaner.
Blair Vickers entered at 3:11 a.m. with her military identification in her pocket and a fact she had been turning over since the first mile of the drive.
Her mother had removed the fireplace from her living room eighteen months earlier.
Not the mantel.
The entire brick firebox had been sealed during a renovation after the chimney failed inspection.
There had been no fireplace tools in that house since then.
Blair had personally carried the old iron set to the county recycling facility.
The receipt remained in her email because she kept receipts for everything.
She did not intend to lead with her rank.
She intended to lead with the truth.
A desk officer looked up.
“I’m here for Corinne Ashford.”
“You family?”
“Her daughter.”
“Take a seat.”
Blair did not sit.
“Has she received medical attention?”
The officer glanced at a screen.
“She's being interviewed.”
“That was not my question.”
A door opened behind the counter, and Nolan Vickers stepped into view wearing the blue polo shirt Blair had bought him for their anniversary.
His left sleeve was torn.
A thin red mark crossed his neck, perfectly placed for a camera.
“Blair, thank God.”
He came toward her with his arms spread.
She stepped aside.
The movement was small, but he noticed.
His smile flickered.
“Your mother had an episode,” he said softly.
“Don't do this here.”
“Where is she?”
“She's confused.”
“Where?”
Nolan lowered his voice.
“She came after me with one of those heavy fireplace pokers.”
Blair watched his face.
“Which fireplace?”
He blinked.
“What?”
“Which fireplace did she get the poker from?”
“The one in her living room.”
“You've been there plenty of times.”
“Yes, Blair, of course.”
“Then describe it.”
Nolan looked toward the desk officer.
“I don't see how this helps.”
“Humor me.”
“It’s brick, with that little brass screen.”
Blair felt something inside her go still.
The brass screen had been donated with the tools.
“You described a room that hasn't existed for a year and a half.”
Nolan’s eyes narrowed, just for an instant.
“Maybe I got the details wrong.”
“Then maybe you got the entire story wrong.”
A detective stepped through the door.
“Ma'am, I'm Detective Elena Ruiz. Please come with me.”
Blair followed without looking back.
In a narrow interview room she found her mother seated under fluorescent light, one cheek swollen, her sweater buttoned incorrectly.
Corinne stood too quickly and winced.
Blair embraced her without touching the bruised side of her face.
“I'm here.”
Corinne clung to her.
“He wanted something from me.”
“What?”
Corinne glanced at the ceiling camera.
“An envelope.”
The detective leaned forward.
“What envelope, Mrs. Ashford?”
Corinne whispered, “The one your father told me never to give him.”
Blair's father had been dead for eleven years.
May you like
And until that moment, she had never heard about an envelope.
