Finally, she said, “That he’s the only surviving witness.”
I felt the room tilt.
“Witness to what?”
She opened her mouth.
But Jamie answered first.
“The fire.”
Every sound in the room seemed to disappear.
I looked at him.
“Jamie?”
He was staring at the old wooden box.
“I remember the fire now.”
My voice became a whisper.
“What do you remember?”
He began shaking.
“The garage.”
I moved closer.
“The fire at Dad’s garage?”
He nodded.
“And the man with the watch.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did he do?”
Jamie swallowed.
“He locked the door.”
I went cold.
“What door?”
“The red door.”
A tear rolled down his cheek.
“I was inside.”
I couldn’t move.
All my life, I’d believed our father’s garage had burned down in an accident.
But my brother was telling me he’d been locked inside.
And someone had tried to keep him there.
