Chapter 5 - THE FIRE ON GRANDFATHER’S MOUNTAIN
Miles reached the front door first.
“Call 911.”
I grabbed my phone while he ran toward the shed.
The man with the fuel can saw him and pulled a metal baton from beneath his coat.
Miles stopped several yards away.
“The property is under video surveillance,” he said.
It was a bluff.
We had installed only two cameras, and neither covered the shed.
The man looked toward the eaves anyway.
That hesitation gave me time to trigger the house alarm and shout that police were approaching.
He threw the fuel can through the shed window.
Flames erupted instantly.
Then he ran toward the silver SUV.
Miles followed far enough to photograph the license plate but did not attempt to stop the vehicle.
The fire climbed the cedar siding before the Evergreen volunteer department arrived.
Firefighters contained it to the western section of the house, but smoke and water damaged Granddad’s study.
I stood in the snow watching black water pour from the windows.
The rolltop desk remained inside.
So did the ledger and original letters.
A firefighter stopped me when I tried to enter.
“The ceiling could come down.”
“My grandfather’s records are in that room.”
“Then they remain there until the structure is safe.”
The house that had sheltered me after my family discarded me now burned because Kylie sold my notebook to Gerald Sloane.
She had not intended the fire.
That did not erase her choice.
Police traced the SUV to a private security contractor used by Alton Meridian.
The driver’s photograph matched an operations specialist named Cole Reeves, who reported directly to Gerald.
Gerald claimed the man had been terminated months earlier.
Company payroll showed a payment that morning.
The fire transformed a civil trade-secret dispute into a criminal investigation.
It also exposed me to another problem.
Gerald’s attorneys argued that I staged the incident to destroy evidence proving I stole Alton material.
Online commentators repeated the theory before the smoke cleared.
Kylie posted that she was “heartbroken by the mysterious fire” and praying for everyone involved.
She did not mention selling the notebook.
I saved the recording of our call.
Rachel instructed me not to publish it yet.
“We use it in court, where editing and followers matter less.”
Firefighters recovered the rolltop desk after midnight.
The exterior was scorched, but Granddad had lined the lower drawer with a fire-resistant document box.
The ledger survived.
So did the digital recorder and three envelopes.
The envelope addressed to Mom was missing.
It had not burned.
Someone had taken it before the fire.
I knew Kylie entered the study during the family visit.
Perhaps she had taken more than the notebook.
The following morning, Dad arrived alone.
Police stopped him at the bottom of the drive. I allowed him through.
He stood before the damaged house with tears in his eyes.
“Your grandfather built that shed with his own hands.”
“I know.”
“I should have stopped them.”
“Which part?”
He flinched.
“Your mother’s lawsuit. Kylie taking the notebook. All of it.”
“But you signed the note.”
“Yes.”
Dad looked older than he had three weeks earlier.
The mortgage company had issued a formal default notice. Mom’s cards were maxed out. Kylie had moved back into the master bedroom and refused to contribute to utilities.
The life I financed had collapsed with remarkable speed.
“Did Kylie take Granddad’s letter to Mom?” I asked.
Dad looked confused.
“What letter?”
“It was in his desk.”
“I don’t know.”
“Ask her.”
“She won’t talk to me.”
“That is not my problem.”
He nodded, accepting the blow.
“Gerald called me years ago because he knew you worked at Alton,” Dad said. “He said Summit Renewable Futures was guaranteed to triple. When it failed, he offered to help refinance the house.”
“In exchange for what?”
“Information about you.”
My stomach tightened.
“What information?”
“At first, nothing important. Your schedule. Whether you were happy at work. Whether you planned to leave.”
“You reported on me for years?”
“I thought he was mentoring you.”
“You never asked me?”
“You were doing so well.”
Dad looked at the scorched house.
“Last year, Gerald asked whether you were building something on the side. Your mother told him you spent weekends in Denver.”
That was how Alton learned about Northline.
My family had not merely depended on my income.
They had unknowingly supplied my employer with personal intelligence.
“When your division was eliminated,” Dad continued, “Gerald called before you came home.”
The room seemed to narrow around us.
“He knew I was being fired?”
“He told us the company had discovered serious misconduct and you might face criminal charges.”
“So you packed my bedroom.”
“We thought authorities might search the house. Your mother wanted your things removed.”
The explanation was worse than entitlement.
They believed a man who exploited them before believing their daughter.
“You thought I was a criminal.”
“He sounded certain.”
“And you never asked me.”
Dad’s eyes filled with tears.
“No.”
A police vehicle came up the drive.
Detectives had arrested Cole Reeves at Denver International Airport.
He carried a flash drive containing photographs of the house, copies of the forged promissory note, and instructions from Gerald.
The instructions ordered him to retrieve Granddad’s ledger.
Gerald knew about it.
Only five people had seen the ledger: me, Miles, Rachel, Dad, and the forensic reviewer.
Dad stared at me.
“I didn’t tell him.”
“I believe you.”
He looked relieved.
“Mom did.”
The missing envelope had told her about the ledger.
May you like
She contacted Gerald before filing the lawsuit.
My own mother had given the man who destroyed my career directions to the evidence inside Granddad’s house.
