Chapter 2
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Smoke curled across the ceiling behind us.
Caitlyn buried her face against my neck, coughing.
I tightened my arms around her.
“Get out of the house,” I told Melissa.
Her frightened expression disappeared.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“This is my home too.”
“No. Apparently, it belongs to my daughter.”
Melissa’s eyes dropped to the document in my hand.
Then she lunged for it.
I turned away before she could grab it.
The movement frightened Caitlyn so badly that she screamed.
“Stop!” I shouted.
Melissa froze.
I had never raised my voice at her like that.
Not when we were children.
Not when she moved into the house after Dad died.
Not even when she began acting as if every room belonged to her.
But something had changed.
I had found my daughter behind a locked door while smoke filled the room.
There was no explanation that could make that innocent.
The smoke alarm finally began shrieking.
“Mommy,” Caitlyn sobbed. “The fire.”
I carried her downstairs.
Melissa followed us.
“Sarah, listen to me,” she pleaded. “That document is probably fake.”
My name sounded ugly in her mouth.
I grabbed my phone and called 911.
Melissa’s face hardened.
“You’re calling the police?”
“I’m calling the fire department.”
“You’re going to embarrass the whole family over a misunderstanding?”
“A seven-year-old was trapped in a smoke-filled room.”
“She locked herself in!”
“The key was on your wrist.”
Melissa looked at the silver key hanging from her bracelet.
For once, she had no answer.
I took Caitlyn outside and wrapped her in a blanket from my car.
Sirens approached within minutes.
Our neighbors came onto their porches.
Melissa stood in the doorway, staring at us.
The red lights washed across her face.
She looked less like my sister than a stranger caught wearing my sister’s clothes.
A firefighter examined Caitlyn while two others entered the house.
A police officer walked toward me.
“What happened?”
Before I could answer, Melissa hurried outside.
“My niece became frightened by smoke from the fireplace,” she said. “She accidentally locked herself in her room.”
The officer looked at her.
“From the inside?”
Melissa hesitated.
“It’s an old lock.”
“No, it isn’t,” I said. “It locks from the hallway.”
The officer turned to me.
I showed him the key.
Then I showed him the document.
Melissa reached for my arm.
“That is private family property.”
I pulled away.
The officer stepped between us.
“Ma’am, don’t touch her.”
Melissa’s cheeks turned red.
One of the firefighters came outside carrying a black metal trash can.
The smell hit me immediately.
Burned paper.
He set it on the driveway.
“We found this in the upstairs sitting room,” he said. “Someone tried to burn documents inside the can. The curtains nearly caught.”
The officer looked at Melissa.
“Did you start that fire?”
“No.”
Caitlyn lifted her head from my shoulder.
“Yes, she did.”
Melissa stared at her.
My daughter trembled, but she kept speaking.
“Aunt Melissa had a lighter.”
“Caitlyn,” Melissa said softly, “you’re confused.”
“I’m not confused.”
The officer crouched in front of her.
“What did you see?”
Caitlyn looked at me first.
I nodded.
She swallowed.
“Aunt Melissa was putting papers in the trash can. She said they were dirty. I saw Grandpa’s name on one, so I took the envelope.”
Melissa folded her arms.
“She has an active imagination.”
Caitlyn’s fingers tightened around my shirt.
“She chased me.”
My stomach turned cold.
“She chased you where?”
“To my room. I ran inside. She locked the door.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that upstairs?”
“Because she was listening.”
I looked at Melissa.
She no longer seemed embarrassed.
She seemed furious.
It was there for only a second, but I saw it.
So did the officer.
He stood.
“Ma’am, I need you to step away from the child.”
“I’m her aunt.”
“Step away.”
Melissa laughed bitterly.
“This is ridiculous. Sarah has always been dramatic. Ask anyone in our family.”
The firefighter beside Caitlyn removed his oxygen monitor.
“Her oxygen level is lower than it should be. She needs to be evaluated at the hospital.”
My knees weakened.
“Is she going to be okay?”
“She’s alert, which is good. But smoke inhalation can be serious.”
Melissa shook her head.
“She was in there for less than a minute.”
Caitlyn looked at her.
“No, I wasn’t.”
The driveway went silent.
“How long?” I whispered.
“I don’t know. I screamed a lot.”
I remembered pulling into the driveway.
I had heard her before I reached the front steps.
How long had she been screaming before that?
Ten minutes?
Twenty?
I faced Melissa.
“You told me you were taking her to the park.”
“We changed our plans.”
“You told me everything was fine.”
“It was fine until she started stealing.”
“She saved a document you were burning.”
“She took something that did not belong to her.”
“It has her name on it.”
Melissa’s mouth closed.
The officer asked her to turn around.
She stared at him.
“Am I being arrested?”
“At the moment, you’re being detained while we investigate the fire and the locked door.”
“You can’t do this.”
“Turn around.”
Melissa looked at me.
There was no fear in her eyes now.
Only hatred.
“You have no idea what you’re doing, Sarah.”
The officer placed her in handcuffs.
Caitlyn began crying again.
I covered her eyes as Melissa was led toward the patrol car.
My sister twisted around before the officer put her inside.
“Dad lied to you!” she shouted. “He lied about everything!”
The door closed.
I wanted to believe it was another desperate attempt to frighten me.
But my father had spent the last six months of his life acting afraid.
He changed the locks twice.
He stopped answering calls when Melissa entered the room.
A week before his death, he gripped my wrist beside his hospital bed and asked me a strange question.
If something happened to him, would I protect Caitlyn no matter who tried to stop me?
At the time, I thought medication was confusing him.
Now I understood.
The ambulance took us to the hospital.
Caitlyn wore a small oxygen mask and held my hand the entire ride.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked.
My heart cracked.
“Why would I be mad at you?”
“Because Aunt Melissa said the papers would make you hate me.”
I stared at her.
“What else did she say?”
“She said Grandpa gave me something that should have belonged to her.”
The paramedic looked at me, then quietly turned away to give us privacy.
“She said you would lose the house,” Caitlyn continued. “She said we’d have nowhere to live because of me.”
“That is not true.”
“But the paper says the house is mine.”
“That means no one can take it from you.”
“Not even Aunt Melissa?”
“Especially not Aunt Melissa.”
At the hospital, the doctor said Caitlyn would recover.
She had inhaled smoke, but there was no permanent damage.
Relief almost brought me to the floor.
While she slept, I photographed every page in the scorched envelope.
The document was a recorded transfer deed dated eight months before Dad died.
The property had been transferred to a trust.
The beneficiary was Caitlyn Rose Monroe.
I was named her guardian.
Melissa was named nowhere.
At the bottom was a law firm’s seal and a phone number.
I called it.
A tired male voice answered.
“Price and Holloway.”
“My name is Sarah Monroe. I found a property document signed by my father, Thomas Monroe.”
The man stopped breathing for a moment.
“Where did you find it?”
“My sister was trying to burn it.”
His voice became urgent.
“Are you alone?”
“My daughter is asleep beside me.”
“Is Melissa with you?”
“No. She’s with the police.”
“Thank God.”
I stood and walked toward the hospital window.
“Who are you?”
“Daniel Price. I was your father’s attorney.”
“I’ve never heard of you.”
“That was intentional.”
A chill moved through me.
“Why?”
“Because your father believed Melissa was stealing from him.”
I looked at Caitlyn.
Her small face was pale beneath the hospital lights.
“How much?”
“At least four hundred thousand dollars.”
I gripped the phone.
“That’s impossible.”
“I wish it were.”
“Why would Dad put the house in Caitlyn’s name?”
“Because the house is only part of what he left her.”
My mouth went dry.
“What else is there?”
Daniel exhaled.
“Your father owned land outside the city. A development company made an offer shortly before he died.”
“What kind of offer?”
“Eight million dollars.”
I nearly dropped the phone.
Daniel continued before I could speak.
“Melissa knew about the offer. Your father refused to sell because he wanted the land protected for Caitlyn. Two weeks later, he was dead.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Dad’s death had been called a heart attack.
There had been no autopsy.
Melissa had arranged the funeral before I could ask questions.
“Are you saying my sister killed him?”
“I’m saying your father was afraid she might.”
A nurse entered the room.
She held a sealed plastic evidence bag.
Inside was Caitlyn’s pink sweater.
Something small and black clung to the fabric near the collar.
“What is that?” I asked.
The nurse looked uneasy.
“We found it while changing her clothes.”
Daniel was still speaking through the phone, but I could no longer hear him.
The nurse raised the bag.
“It appears to be a recording device.”
I stared at the tiny object.
Then Caitlyn opened her eyes.
“Aunt Melissa put it there,” she whispered.
“When?”
“This morning.”
“Why?”
My daughter looked toward the closed hospital door.
May you like
Then she said the words that changed everything.
“She wanted to hear where Grandpa hid the rest.”
