Chapter 12 - The Fire in the Walls
Gideon Vale disappeared from the roof before the firefighters could reach the upper stairwell. He left behind the black case, but it held only ash and a single sheet of paper.
The paper showed the Riverlight project’s final design. The new development covered the entire neighborhood, including Saint Agnes Hall, Mrs. Baptiste’s store, and the Bell laundromat.
At the bottom, beside the signature line, was one handwritten sentence.
THE OLD BLOCK WILL BE EMPTY BY FRIDAY.
“Today is Wednesday,” Lena said.
Mara looked toward the burning club. “Then we have two days.”
The city attorney refused to certify the property records without a complete chain of evidence. The prosecutor refused to release Darius. Vale’s attorney called the recording fabricated.
Every door seemed to have a lock, and every lock seemed to have been paid for by someone they could not reach.
Still, the neighborhood refused to scatter.
The radio station scheduled a live broadcast for Thursday night. Residents would read their names, describe the threats, and play Caleb’s recordings for anyone willing to listen. Vincent agreed to perform afterward because the station manager said music might keep people from turning the broadcast into a courtroom argument.
Noah sat beside him in the empty studio while Vincent cleaned the saxophone.
“Are you afraid?” Noah asked.
“Yes.”
“You don’t look afraid.”
“That’s because I’ve had practice.”
Noah touched the crack in his borrowed violin. “I thought brave people didn’t get afraid.”
“Brave people get afraid early and often. They just stop treating fear like a decision.”
“Did Dad know that?”
“Your father knew more than I did.”
Noah considered this. “You should tell Mom.”
“I will.”
“Tell her without making her ask.”
Vincent smiled sadly. “You have your father’s timing.”
On Thursday evening, the station filled with residents. Tasha sat beside her father, who had agreed to testify. Keon wore a borrowed jacket. Darius arrived under escort, wrists free but guarded by two officers.
Lena read the forged records. Mara described the evidence chain. Inez Bell spoke about the threats to her laundromat.
Then the lights flickered.
Noah lifted his head.
“Something smells wrong.”
Vincent smelled it too. Gasoline, sharp beneath the warm dust of the studio.
“Everybody out,” Mara said.
The front door burst open.
Smoke poured into the hallway as flames climbed the stairs. People shouted. The broadcast microphone remained live, carrying every sound to the neighborhood.
“Use the back exit!” Mara yelled.
Vincent pushed Noah toward the stairwell, but the hallway ceiling groaned. A burning beam crashed between them.
“Granddad!”
“Go with your mother!”
“I’m not leaving you!”
Vincent crawled beneath the beam. Heat blistered his hands. On the other side, Noah crouched beside the microphone, frozen.
“Noah,” Vincent called. “Listen to me.”
“I can’t get through.”
“You don’t have to get through. You have to tell people what you see.”
Noah turned toward the microphone.
His voice came out small but clear over the air.
“The fire is in the stairwell. There are people on the second floor. The back stairs are clear. The blue bird is on the gas can.”
Mara heard him through the smoke. She directed the firefighters to the back entrance. Neighbors outside began shouting directions. A man broke a window with a chair so people could climb out.
Vincent found a loose cable beneath the beam. He pulled it free, and the ceiling light went dark, leaving a line of sparks along the floor.
“Granddad!”
“Now!”
Noah crawled under the beam. Vincent pushed him toward the window just as the wall behind them flashed orange.
They dropped onto the alley pavement together.
Across the street, a black SUV waited with its engine running.
Gideon Vale sat behind the wheel.
May you like
He watched Noah climb to his feet.
Then he smiled and drove away.
