Chapter 9 - THE NIGHT THEY SET FIRE TO EVERYTHING SHE LOVED
The first thing Maggie screamed was her father's name.
Not the bakery.
Not the money.
Not the evidence.
"Dad!"
She ran toward the staircase.
I followed.
Smoke was already rising past the kitchen doorway.
Somewhere outside, glass shattered.
The delivery van's rear compartment was burning.
Flames reflected against the windows.
I grabbed the fire extinguisher mounted beside the staircase.
"Maggie, get your father outside!"
She was already moving.
I called emergency services and gave the dispatcher the address, then moved toward the kitchen to keep the exit route clear.
The flames were spreading along the rear loading area.
I discharged the extinguisher at a small patch of fire near the doorway.
For a moment, it worked.
Then smoke poured through the broken exterior glass.
The fire was larger than one extinguisher could control.
I backed away.
There was no heroism in staying inside until I collapsed.
I knew that.
But I still heard my old instincts.
Control the situation.
Fix it yourself.
Make the danger obey.
Fire didn't care who I was.
Neither did the smoke.
"Maggie!"
No answer.
I turned toward the staircase.
"Get downstairs!"
A coughing sound came from above.
Benjamin.
I started upward.
Halfway up, Maggie appeared with her father's arm across her shoulders.
He was trying to descend.
But each step made him cough harder.
I moved beside him.
"Mr. Rowan, take my arm."
He stared at me through watery eyes.
"Adrian?"
"Yes."
Maggie gripped the railing.
"We need to move."
Together, we helped Benjamin down the remaining steps.
The air grew darker.
By the time we reached the front door, I could barely see the counter.
Maggie glanced toward the kitchen.
"The box!"
I caught her arm.
"The records are with Evelyn."
"My mother's photograph!"
I looked at her.
Her face was desperate.
She wanted to go back.
I understood.
The photograph was one of the last things she had of Elaine.
But the room behind us was filling with smoke.
"Maggie, no."
She struggled.
"It's right there!"
"Your father needs you."
That stopped her.
She looked toward Benjamin.
His breathing was ragged.
His skin had turned gray beneath the smoke.
Maggie's expression collapsed.
Then she nodded.
We went outside.
A neighbor was already shouting for people to move away from the building.
The first fire truck arrived minutes later.
Firefighters took control.
Paramedics helped Benjamin into an ambulance.
Maggie climbed in beside him.
Before the doors closed, she looked at me.
The expression on her face wasn't anger.
It was fear.
Pure fear.
"Don't let them take everything."
I wanted to promise.
I couldn't.
So I told her the only truth I had.
"I'll stay here until it's safe."
Then the ambulance left.
I stood across the street watching firefighters work.
The bakery windows glowed orange.
Smoke rose above the roof.
People gathered beneath the courthouse lamps.
Some cried.
Others stood in silence.
A woman in a heavy coat approached.
Denise Harper.
The records clerk.
"Is Maggie all right?"
"She's with her father."
Denise looked toward the fire.
"Oh, Elaine."
Her voice broke.
I stared at the building.
For eleven years, the Rowans had kept it alive after Elaine's death.
They survived declining business.
Medical expenses.
Threatened foreclosure.
Forged paperwork.
And now someone had tried to burn away what remained.
My phone rang.
Gideon.
I looked at the screen.
For a moment, I almost answered.
Almost told him what I would do if he was responsible.
Almost became the man he'd raised.
Then I declined the call.
I contacted Evelyn instead.
"The bakery's on fire."
She went silent.
"What?"
"Maggie and Ben are out. Emergency services are here."
"Are you safe?"
"Yes."
"The documents?"
"You took them."
"Yes. They're secure."
I exhaled.
"Good."
Evelyn paused.
"Adrian, don't confront anyone."
I watched the flames.
"I won't."
"Promise."
I looked toward the ambulance disappearing around the corner.
"Promise."
The fire was brought under control before it destroyed the entire building.
But the damage was terrible.
The loading area was gutted.
The kitchen ceiling had partly collapsed.
The old oven survived, though smoke and water damaged the surrounding walls.
Several tables were ruined.
The pastry display shattered.
The delivery van was gone.
By dawn, Rowan & Rye looked like a wounded animal.
Still standing.
Barely.
I visited the hospital that morning.
Benjamin was receiving oxygen and observation for smoke inhalation.
Maggie sat beside his bed.
Her apron was stained with soot.
Her hair had escaped its pins.
She looked exhausted.
When she saw me, she stood.
"How bad?"
I didn't lie.
"Bad."
Her face fell.
"Everything?"
"No."
She swallowed.
"The oven?"
"Still there."
Her eyes filled.
"And the photographs?"
I hesitated.
"I don't know."
She pressed her lips together.
For a moment, I thought she'd cry.
Instead, she sat down.
Very carefully.
As though one more movement might break her.
I took the chair opposite.
Neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered:
"I hate them."
I looked at her.
"Whoever did this."
Her hands trembled.
"I hate them so much."
I nodded.
She stared at the floor.
"Is that what you feel all the time?"
I frowned.
"What?"
"Anger."
I considered.
"For a long time, yes."
"Did it help?"
I looked toward Benjamin.
His breathing was steadier now.
"No."
She nodded.
Then began crying.
Not loudly.
Just quietly.
I wanted to hold her.
But I didn't know whether she wanted that.
So I stayed in the chair.
When she reached for my hand, I took it.
Hours later, Evelyn arrived.
She brought an update.
Investigators had recovered nearby security footage.
The recording showed a vehicle stopping behind the bakery shortly before the fire.
Someone exited.
Moved toward the delivery van.
Then returned.
The footage did not clearly show the person's face.
But investigators identified the vehicle registration.
A company connected to Pine Hollow Redevelopment.
Maggie's expression changed.
"Cyrus."
Evelyn raised one hand.
"We still need to establish who was driving and what happened."
Maggie nodded slowly.
Then looked at me.
"Will they get away with it?"
I didn't answer immediately.
I thought of the old Adrian.
The man who could frighten witnesses.
Buy silence.
Make problems disappear.
Then I thought of Elaine.
Walt.
The records.
Maggie's hand in mine.
"Not if we can prove what they did."
She stared.
Then whispered:
"What if you can't?"
I looked toward the hospital window.
"Then we keep looking."
That evening, my uncle called again.
This time, I answered.
"Adrian."
"Gideon."
His voice was calm.
"I heard there was an unfortunate fire."
I stood beside the hospital corridor window.
"Yes."
"Terrible thing."
I said nothing.
Then he added:
"Small towns are dangerous when people start opening old wounds."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"Is that a warning?"
He laughed softly.
"Advice."
I stared at the dark reflection of my face.
Then said:
"Elaine Rowan kept copies."
Silence.
It lasted only two seconds.
But I heard it.
Gideon's breathing changed.
Then he asked:
"Copies of what?"
I looked toward Maggie's hospital room.
"The truth."
He said nothing.
For the first time in my life, I heard my uncle struggling to find an answer.
Then he whispered:
"You have no idea what you're doing."
I looked at the phone.
"Maybe not."
I ended the call.
Then walked back toward Maggie.
Because whatever happened next, I knew one thing.
May you like
The bakery fire was not the end of the story.
It was the moment the people hiding the past realized their secrets might finally survive them.
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