Chapter 9 - The Second Voice
June spoke again after midnight.
“Leah came to my door,” she said through the radio. “She left the latch loose.”
Mara held the radio close. “Can you get out?”
“No. My ankle is tied too.”
“Did she tell you about the move?”
“She told me Silas is coming.”
“He wants us on camera.”
June was silent for a moment. “Then we give him the truth.”
The phrase sounded impossibly brave. Mara imagined June in the west room, speaking through a wall while her own body was weak and confined.
“What did you copy?” Mara asked.
“A list of properties. Not just Briar Court. Buildings where tenants were pushed out by false safety notices. Some were elderly. Some were families with nowhere to go.”
“Why would Silas need my statement if he has the records?”
“Because the records show money. Your statement shows intent.”
Mara understood. The drive might prove fraud, but her testimony could connect Silas to the altered reports. He needed to turn her into an unstable thief before anyone heard her speak under oath.
“Do you have the list?”
“I memorized most of it.”
“Tell me.”
June began reciting addresses. Mara repeated each one softly, associating them with images: a brick mill beside a river, a row of narrow houses near a grain elevator, an apartment complex shaped like a horseshoe.
At the seventh address, June stopped.
“What is it?”
“That building burned the night before Briar Court.”
“There was another fire?”
“No one died. The tenants were already gone.”
Mara felt a chill unrelated to the cold.
“Silas practiced.”
“What?”
“The first fire was a test. He learned how quickly the city approved demolition when a building looked dangerous.”
The radio crackled with a burst of static.
“Mara,” June said, “there is something else.”
“What?”
“I found a payment to a private medical transport company. The company has no license.”
“The place they’re moving me to.”
“Probably.”
“Why move us?”
“Because the blue house is already compromised.”
Mara looked toward the ceiling. The house did not feel temporary. It had old floors, patched walls, and a basement full of things Cole never mentioned. But if Silas knew the police had searched it, he would not keep them there.
The hallway creaked.
June whispered, “Someone’s coming.”
Mara turned off the radio and slipped it beneath the towel stack.
The bathroom door opened. Cole stood there alone, carrying a blanket.
“You’re cold,” he said.
“You noticed?”
He put the blanket on the floor.
“Dana doesn’t know I brought it.”
“Dana knows everything you do.”
Cole sat with his back against the wall. He looked exhausted, younger than Mara had first thought.
“My brother’s name was Adrian,” he said. “He was twenty-six. Silas told us the city had ignored complaints. He said the fire was a tragedy no one could have prevented.”
“Did you see the reports?”
“No.”
“Did you see the payment records?”
“No.”
“Then you believed a man who benefited from your brother’s death.”
Cole rubbed his face. “What do you want me to do?”
“Open the west room.”
He looked at the floor.
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“If I help you, Silas will destroy my family.”
“If you don’t, he will keep using you until there is nothing left.”
Cole’s eyes met hers. “You think there’s a way out?”
“There is always a way out. Sometimes it begins with admitting you are inside.”
He stood and reached for the door.
“Cole.”
He paused.
“When Silas comes, leave the camera facing the hall.”
Cole said nothing, but his hand tightened around the doorknob.
After he left, Mara pulled the emergency radio out again. June was breathing hard.
“Did he come to you?” Mara asked.
“No.”
“Can you move?”
“A little.”
“Then listen. Silas wants a performance. We are going to give him a record.”
“How?”
May you like
Mara looked at the vent, the window, and the thin blue strip of paint beneath the door.
“By making sure the part he edits is not the only part that exists.”
