My Apartment Burned Down. My Parents Said, “Not Our Problem.” Then the Fire Investigator Called.

But yeah.” Marcus met my eyes. “That’s her.”

I looked back at my parents’ house. Through the living room window, I could see shapes moving—my family probably still discussing how sad it was that Evelyn had lost her mind.

My phone buzzed. Diana.

“The witness identification came through,” she said without preamble. “Photo lineup. He picked Patricia. No continue reading …