It’s been twelve weeks exactly. Sophie has officially made it out of the first trimester which means she wants to start telling people.
During these last twelve weeks, I’ve been digging into the house fire that took her parents’ life. I want to be able to marry her, knowing I did everything I could to bring her peace and ease her mind about me. There are times when she falls quiet and won’t look at me because I know there is a small part of her that believes I did it. I don’t blame her at all, but I will be finding out everything I need to know today.
“Matias?” Gianni knocks on the door before opening it.
“Is Ella okay? Did the school call?”
“No, no, nothing like that. The detective is here.”
I stand so fast, the chair hits the wall. “Bring him in.”
A middle-aged man, with salt and pepper hair brushed back, steps into my office. He has a stone-hard expression on his face, paired with a sharp jaw and cold eyes. He looks like a cop.
“I’m not happy to be here, Milazzo. You’re the big fish I was never able to catch.”
I grab a stack of cash from my desk drawer and throw it at him. “And now?”
He grins, tucking the money into his pocket. “Happy as a clam.”
“Thought so,” I roll my eyes. “Did you bring what I needed?”
He sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, but you need to know, for me this was twenty years ago. I remember the fire, but I might not remember a lot of details.”
“That’s fine. Do you have the file with you?”
“Are you kidding?” He steps out of the way and my men begin to bring in boxes upon boxes.
My brows raise.
“You didn’t think an arson case that was never solved would be just a folder, did you?”
“I suppose not. I didn’t know what to expect.”
Ten boxes later, Detective Casey sits down, the only detective still alive who was on the case. “What do you want to start with first?”
“I want to see pictures of the crime scene or any family photos. Sophie thinks it’s mafia-related, and I want to clear my name but bring her peace, too.”
“Smart woman. I think it is, too, but I don’t think it’s you. You have different… tactics. You aren’t loud and messy. You wouldn’t start a fire. You wouldn’t want the attention. You’d keep your intent quiet. You’d kill with silence. This isn’t your doing. I have proof of that.”
“I appreciate that, but I want to know who did this. I don’t only want to clear my name.”
“I don’t know what you’ll find. I’ve been over these boxes a hundred times. There’s nothing there.”
“Let’s see, shall we.”
Detective Casey nods, sliding over the first box. “This contains all crime scene photos.” He scoots over another. “These are any personal belongings we could find.”
I open the first box. “Fuck,” I curse with an ache when I see the first photo lying on top of the folders.
It’s a picture of the house. I remember this now. It’s all coming back.
I was there, but not in the way Sophie thinks.
“Oh my god,” I grumble, sagging against my desk. “I was so young when this happened. I barely remember it, but seeing this house…” I trail off, the two-story family home staring at me in the face. Half of it is in ash, nothing but rubble, and the other half is blackened with soot. “It was me who pulled Sophie out of this fire. I was just a kid myself. I was young but I was driving by. I heard her screams. I placed her in the yard, and I ran because I knew if anyone saw me there, they would blame my family. I couldn’t hardly see her face. It was covered in soot and ash. She was unconscious.”
“Jesus Christ. You’re a witness.”
“I am not. You will not put me in the investigation when that would be all the press would need to blame me when I didn’t do it. No.”
“She needs to know you saved her.”
“No, she doesn’t. What are the chances of her coming into my home? Being my nanny, my fiancé?”
“It’s odd how the universe works, doesn’t it?” he questions, flipping through another folder. “Here are some family photos. Most are burnt.”
He casually changes the subject while my head is still reeling. Memories come flooding back to me: the roar of the flames, the smell of smoke, the screams that pierced the air as she cried for help. We were always meant to find one another.
She was always meant to be mine.
“You with me?” Detective Casey nudges me with a question.
“Yeah, sorry.” I shake out of my funk, or try to, but it’s hard, knowing that our paths crossed so long ago. I flip through the stack of pictures he gave me, noticing nothing. I pass one picture, only for the image to click in my mind a second later. I stare at the photo of a photo, analyzing it. “Wait a minute.” I narrow my eyes. The blaze burnt most of the picture. Her mom and Sophie are no longer in it, but a man, I’m assuming her father, is standing there like he has his arm wrapped around someone, probably Sophie’s mom.
But it’s the faint image of the man next to him that’s sounding alarms. I can only see half of his face since the other half of the picture is gone.
“I know this face,” I whisper, showing the picture to Casey. “I know it isn’t much, but I swear, I know him.”
“Who is it, then?” he asks. “I can’t get a decent recognition from this. I don’t think this would be enough to close the case.”
I swing open my door. “Gianni!” I call to him. I hear the quick taps of his shoes against the floor after he hears the urgency in my voice.
He stands in front of me, breathing hard and his eyes survey the room. “What’s the problem?”
“Do you know him?” I show Gianni the picture, knowing that if anyone would know anything, it would be him. He’s a little older than the Detective so he might know something we don’t.
He squints as he stares at the picture. I see it. The moment it dawns on him. “Where did you get this?”
I grab him by his blazer. “Who is it? It could be our only lead to find who burnt down Sophie’s house.”
“That’s your father’s old rival, Nolan O’Brien.”
“O’Brien? Head of the Irish mob?”
Gianni nods. “That’s him. He loves setting fires to anyone your father had business with. I didn’t know the details. I was too young then. You know how your father was.”
“A real asshole, until Carmine killed him,” I grumble, giving the picture to Casey. “But O’Brien hasn’t been relevant in years. Decades, even.”
“After the fire,” Casey says, as the obvious dawns on him. “He vanished. We couldn’t look into him because he was just gone. His entire organization seemed to vanish overnight.”
“Didn’t he have children?” I ask, just as Gianni punches a hole in the wall. “Gianni?”
“He did have children. One son.” He slides his eyes to me, guilt stretched across his face. “His name was Michael.”
My stomach drops. “Michael? As in Sophie’s ex, Michael?”
“It has to be. Why else would Michel be around? What if Michael planned to be with her all along? What if he planned to finish his father’s job? It makes sense, Matias. She is the one who survived and if Michael has the chance to breathe life back into the O’Brien name, bringing the mob back to the city, why wouldn’t he start with Sophie? The ultimate kill, the one that would give him so much power and respect because he finished what his father couldn’t.”
“Where is she? Where is Sophie? I need to see her now. Right now. This can’t wait.” I run out of the office, calling her name. “Sophie? Sophie!” I shout for her, but she doesn’t answer. “Where the fuck is my fiancé!” I roar, rushing into the bedroom. “Sophie? Sophie!”
“Matias, here. She left a note.”
I backtrack to the kitchen, where he is standing, holding a small piece of paper. I rip it from his hands and read.
“Matias,
You were in the office and it seemed important so I didn’t want to bother you. I went to my mom’s to tell her about the baby. I’ll be back soon. I love you.
-Your Sophie.”
I crumble the paper. “We need to find her. Now,” I snarl, knowing Michael will take the opportunity of her being out on her own.
When I find him, I’m going to kill him.
Death by flame.
It is only right to end this how it began.
