Chapter 4: The Mother Who Looked Away
My mother had already reached the driveway when Caleb spoke.
She stopped.
The policewoman beside her turned.
“What did you say, Caleb?””
My brother looked down at the tablet.
“I saw Mom carrying something upstairs.””
Mom shook her head.
“No, sweetheart.””
Caleb stepped forward.
“You told me to stay in my room.””
“I was trying to protect you.””
“You told me not to tell June.””
Her face drained of color.
I moved toward my brother.
“What did she tell you?””
Caleb swallowed.
“She said the fire was an accident, and if I talked about what I saw, Dad would lose everything.””
My mother pressed both hands against her chest.
“I was scared!””
I stared at her.
“Scared of what?””
She looked toward the guests.
“June, please. Not here.””
I laughed bitterly.
“Where would you prefer? The hospital? The kitchen? Maybe in the room where you told me my scars ruined your photographs?””
She covered her mouth.
Detective Harris asked Caleb to explain what he remembered.
My brother took a deep breath.
“That night, I woke up because I heard Mom and Dad arguing downstairs. I went to the top of the stairs.””
“What time was this?””
“Almost midnight.””
“What did you see?””
“Mom was carrying a red container.””
Dad interrupted.
“Caleb is confused.””
The detective turned toward him.
“Please let him finish.””
Caleb continued.
“Dad told her to put it in the living room. Mom said Sloane had already done what he asked.””
Sloane suddenly looked up.
“That's not true!””
Caleb flinched.
I put a hand on his shoulder.
“Keep going.””
He nodded.
“Then Dad got angry. He said the bottle was supposed to stay downstairs, and Mom said the whole thing was going to get out of control.””
Detective Harris wrote something down.
“Did you see the container?””
“Yes.””
“What did it look like?””
“Red. Like the one in the video.””
The detective turned toward my father.
“Mr. Hayes, what was inside it?””
Dad remained silent.
Mom suddenly spoke.
“Cleaning supplies.””
Everyone looked at her.
“What?”” Detective Harris asked.
“Cleaning supplies. That's all.””
Caleb shook his head.
“No.””
Mom looked at him.
“Sweetheart, you don't understand.””
“I saw the label.””
“What label?””
“It said gasoline.””
The word seemed to drain the warmth from the garden.
I stared at my mother.
“Gasoline?””
She began shaking her head.
“I didn't pour it anywhere.””
Detective Harris stepped closer.
“Did you bring gasoline into the cottage that night?””
Mom looked at Dad.
He closed his eyes.
That tiny movement told me everything.
“Eleanor,” the detective said.
“Answer the question.””
She began crying.
“Yes.””
I felt my legs weaken.
“Why?””
She looked at me.
“Your father said the generator needed fuel.””
“Then why did you carry it upstairs?””
“I didn't know where else to put it.””
Caleb shook his head.
“You put it beside the stairs.””
Mom covered her face.
I remembered the smell.
The thick, bitter smell that had filled the hallway before the smoke.
I had thought it was burning wood.
It hadn't been.
Detective Harris asked whether anyone had touched the container after the fire.
Dad finally answered.
“I moved it.””
“Where?””
“Outside.””
“Why?””
“Because the fire department was already there, and I didn't want it damaged.””
The detective stared at him.
“Damaged?””
Dad rubbed his forehead.
“I wasn't thinking clearly.””
Aunt Meredith stepped closer.
“Richard, you told everyone June started that fire.””
Dad turned toward her.
“She was careless!””
I looked at him.
“You locked me in my room.””
He didn't answer.
“You carried the container outside.””
Still nothing.
“You told people I started it.””
His jaw tightened.
“Someone had to explain what happened.””
I felt tears gathering, but I refused to let them fall.
“So you chose me.””
He looked away.
That hurt more than anything.
Because my father had spent eighteen years teaching me that family meant protecting one another.
Yet when the truth became inconvenient, he had sacrificed his daughter.
Detective Harris asked the officers to secure the tablet and arrange for the original camera files to be preserved.
Then he turned toward Mom.
“Mrs. Hayes, we're going to need a formal statement.””
Mom nodded weakly.
Before she left, she approached me.
“June, I know you hate me.””
I looked at her.
“I don't hate you.””
Hope flickered across her face.
“I just don't know you anymore.””
Her eyes filled again.
She reached for my hand.
I stepped back.
She let it fall.
Sloane stood beside the outdoor bar, staring at the ground.
I approached her.
“Why did you put that bottle near the fireplace?””
She shook her head.
“I didn't know it would cause a fire.””
“That's not an answer.””
“I was trying to scare you.””
I frowned.
“Scare me?””
She nodded.
“You always got to be the good daughter. I wanted you to be in trouble for once.””
My stomach twisted.
“What did you think would happen?””
“I thought there would be smoke. Maybe a little damage.””
“And Caleb?””
Her eyes filled.
“I didn't know he was upstairs.””
“He was eleven!””
“I know!””
She began crying.
I looked at my twin sister.
For years, people had told us we were two halves of one person.
Same face.
Same birthday.
Same blood.
But standing there, I realized I had spent my entire life confusing being related to someone with being safe around them.
Detective Harris approached.
“Miss Hayes, I need to ask you something about the recording.””
I turned.
“What?””
He showed me a still image from the tablet.
It was the moment before the fire.
Sloane was standing beside the fireplace.
But the image revealed something I hadn't noticed before.
There was another person in the room.
A figure standing behind her.
Wearing my father's navy jacket.
Detective Harris zoomed in.
“Your father claims he entered the room after the bottle was placed there.””
I nodded.
“That's what he said.””
The detective pointed toward the figure's hand.
“He appears to be holding a lighter.””
I stared at the screen.
Then I looked toward the driveway, where my father was speaking with another officer.
“Are you saying…”
Detective Harris lowered his voice.
“I'm saying we need to know who actually ignited the fire.””
Before I could respond, his phone rang.
He listened for several seconds.
Then his expression changed.
“Where?””
A pause.
“Are you certain?””
He ended the call.
I looked at him.
“What happened?””
Detective Harris glanced toward my father.
“An officer just found something in your family's old garage.””
May you like
“What?””
“A metal container. And inside it, something that may explain why your father has been lying for eight months.””
