17. Zoe

The driveback home felt like it took an eternity. I supposed that was what happened when I decided to take the long way to give myself some time to think.

I chewed on my bottom lip as I drove through a quieter part of town, passing by an abandoned gym. Well, the building looked old and forgotten, but there were a handful of black cars parked outside. Perhaps it was being revived.

The town was losing buildings left and right, so bringing one back from the dead wouldn’t be a terrible idea.

I kept going, my stomach twisting as I got closer and closer to my area of town. Things became that much more familiar. The house with a white fence. The stop sign that people keep putting stickers on. I was home.

As I turned onto Twin Lakes Drive, my heart jolted to an abrupt stop at the sight of my childhood home. My mom’s old house plants on the front porch were long dead and gone. The concrete walkway leading up to the front porch where I used to do chalk art was cracked and infested with weeds.

As I parked on the side of the road and got out of my car, I noticed that even the way it used to smell— freshly cut grass and blooming flowers— was gone. My steps became slow and hesitant as I neared the front porch, an uneasy feeling taking hold of me.

It was too quiet. Too still. Too dull.

This place used to be full of life. My dad would mow the front lawn, while me and my mom drank lemonade on the porch. I remembered how we would laugh and stumble up the stairs, trying to carry as many grocery bags as possible without making a second trip. All of that happiness and brightness was missing, leaving behind a sad, dark place that I barely recognized.

My eyes shifted to the front door, my depth of perception starting to warp as my head grew light. I just couldn’t believe that I was actually here. Granted, it was mostly for business, but it was about time I saw my dad too.

Maybe he had answers regarding the mystery that now lingered just beyond the front door. What was hiding inside?

After gathering up my courage, I walked up to the door and knocked a few times, flexing my fingers as my palm grew clammy. His car was parked in the garage, so he was definitely home. No turning back now.

Eventually, I heard faint thumps inside that had to be his house slippers knocking against the wooden floor. A second later, the lock unclicked, and the door swung open. My dad— or a version of my dad— stood in the doorway, blinking in surprise at the sight of me.

“Hey, Dad,” I managed to say, my voice coming out weak and awkward. I should’ve called ahead. What the hell was I doing just popping up on the doorstep after years of not seeing him?

My dad used to have a clean-shaven face and close-cut hair for his office job, but overgrown stubble now covered his jaw, while his dark hair covered his ears in shaggier strands. His shoulders tensed under his dark blue robe, making me feel even more nervous.

Was he about to run and hide from me?

“Hey, honey,” my dad finally replied with a fragile smile. He shuffled forward and wrapped his arms around me in the stiffest hug on planet Earth.

I hugged him back, frowning against his shoulder. My dad hadn’t ever been the most outgoing person in the world. He had always been a bit reserved, but this was a whole other level of standoffish. It was like we had forgotten how to exist around each other.

“Sorry for just showing up. I came to town for work,” I explained once we broke apart.

My dad raised his eyebrows, awkwardly tucking his hands into the pockets of his robe.

“Oh, that’s… great. It’s been a while since you were last here,” he commented.

I was sure he wanted a reason. Maybe he already knew deep down, but I wasn’t here to dredge up that part of the past.

“I’ve just been really busy,” I told him as I shifted back and forth on my feet a little.

My dad noticed my restlessness and cleared his throat.

“Come in, come in,” he ushered me inside, leading me to the kitchen where he fixed me a glass of water.

I nodded my thanks and took a sip, my eyes sweeping over the top of the glass to survey the kitchen. My mom’s cherished apron was still hanging on the wall next to the doorway, but the counters weren’t pristine and shiny like she used to keep them. Half a loaf of bread in a messily tied bag, a few dishes, and a cereal box lay discarded on the counters.

Everywhere I looked, it was so obvious that she wasn’t here anymore.

“Are you still working at your same job?” I asked him as we stood in the middle of the kitchen.

My dad rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh, no. We had a… disagreement, and I left,” he explained. “I’m just doing a technician job right now.”

Well, that was still something. Something told me that his grief led to this “disagreement” that probably meant him being let go. I wasn’t going to say that out loud, though.

“That still sounds good,” I replied. This was so awkward. I needed to move this conversation forward before my mom’s death came up. “I’m actually looking into the arson incidents happening around town. Evidently, Mom did some research on some arson incidents in the past. You wouldn’t happen to remember her talking about that, would you?”

My dad’s brow furrowed as he thought for a few seconds. He then shook his head.

“I don’t recall,” he answered.

Frustration crackled within me. I wanted this to be somewhat easy, but life was a stubborn bastard.

“Did she ever mention anything… peculiar about her work?” I pushed for more information. I didn’t want to be all conspiracy-theorist-like, but it was eerie that my mom had died after finding proof. What if she felt like she was in danger at some point?

My dad shook his head again.

“No, nothing like that,” he said.

I did my best not to sigh in disappointment. It wasn’t his fault for not knowing if she kept things a secret, but I wished he could at least give me some sort of clue.

“Most of her things are still in her office if you want to take a look. Might be some stuff in the attic too,” my dad informed me before checking the time on his watch. “I have to head out in a little bit, but feel free to stay and look around. This is still your home too.”

Oh, ouch. I forced a smile onto my face and nodded, my eyes trailing him as he walked out of the kitchen. Guilt washed over me as I imagined him feeling as alone as I did in those years we were separated. It was so hard to lean on each other back then. What if we drowned each other while trying to keep each other afloat?

But I didn’t say those words aloud. I didn’t want him to regret his past actions or how he felt, because he couldn’t control his grief just as I couldn’t.

All I could do was be polite to mitigate any awkwardness and focus on my work.

So, I got to looking. My mom’s office looked the same as before with funny, motivational posters on the walls, a neat desk with colorful office supplies, and three whole filing cabinets full of documents pertaining to her research. Thankfully, she was organized.

My forefinger flicked along the tabs that labeled each folder. Some were cases. Others were names. I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I strained my eyes, trying to find anything at all that related to arson.

But there was nothing.

A groan sounded from me as I shut the last drawer, my head shaking. I just needed to find something. That meant going up to the attic that I avoided like the plague when I was younger.

Now, it called to me, giving me hope for answers. I wandered out into the hallway, my eyes finding the attic door cord. I paused and stared up at it, wishing that something promising was just up above me.

I took a breath before pulling the cord and extending the stairs. A cough broke from me as dust fluttered in the air above me, eerie darkness looming up ahead. Wrinkling my nose, I climbed up the steps into the darkness, my shoulders tensing as it enveloped me. “Where is the damn light?”

My fingers finally brushed the string, and dull, orange-hued light flooding the small attic. Piles of boxes, old furniture, and my old school projects filled the space, along with probably some spiders and whatever other creatures found their way up here.

With a hunched back, I shuffled around, pulling open boxes, sneezing, and not finding a damn thing. Well, I found a few old books from my childhood, which was pretty cool, but magical fantasy adventures wouldn’t help me figure out this case.

I rubbed my irritated nose and dropped down on top of a plastic box full of photo albums. Part of me wanted to look through them, but it wouldn’t do me any favors. There wouldn’t be any answers among captured memories.

This was a dead end.

My surge of motivation from earlier fizzled out, leaving me feeling defeated and lost. It didn’t help that this attic was so stuffy.

I dragged myself out of there and strode right out of the house without looking back, sucking in a deep breath of fresh air. My head felt somewhat clearer now, but disappointment still lingered in the back of my mind. Honestly, just being near my childhood home made me feel uneasy.

I was faced with two choices. One, I could go back to my place and sulk. Two, I could go a few streets down to one of my favorite coffee shops from back in the day and get one of their infamous sweet rolls. Or two.

Drowning my sorrows in sweets it was.

It only took me a few minutes to arrive at Sugar Grind, this town’s best combination coffee shop and bakery. My mouth was on the verge of watering as I strode down the sidewalk toward the storefront, already imagining how warm and fluffy that sweet roll would be.

“Zoe?”

I came to an abrupt stop at the sound of my name. Why did the voice sound kind of familiar? I spun around to see a tall, lean, and handsome man approaching me. My head tilted to the side a little as I took in his features, wondering why in the world he seemed so familiar.

Striking brown eyes. A crooked, boyish grin with a set of dimples. Slightly curly, dark hair. Holy shit.

“Kit?” I gasped once he was within a few feet of me. It was definitely him.

He grinned brighter and nodded.

“Hey, you remember me!” he laughed. “Squeak, squeak.”

I threw my arms around one of my best friends from childhood, our laughter mingling as we squeezed each other.

“You remember our squirrel language!” I exclaimed.

“Duh. Kieran and I still joke about that,” Kit replied as we broke apart with smiles on our faces. Kieran was his slightly older brother, who I was just as close to as him. We all had the most close-knit friendship until they moved away during middle school for their dad’s job.

That was probably the first heartbreak I had suffered. The three of us weren’t just friends. The Fink brothers lived down the street from me, so we essentially grew up together.

My heart fluttered as I processed the fact that he was really standing in front of me right now.

“Where’s Kieran? And what are you doing back in town?” I asked him.

“I could ask you the same thing. I heard from an old friend that you moved away a little while ago,” Kit replied as he crossed his arms over his chest. He loomed over me, now much taller than he used to be when we were kids.

“I became a journalist in North Carolina. I came back here to write a story on the arson incidents and help figure out what’s going on,” I explained, giving him the short version. I wanted to know about him and his brother. I never thought our trio would ever reunite.

Kit’s warm eyes widened.

“No shit. Really?” he asked. “I heard about all of that. It’s insane.”

That was an understatement. I couldn’t keep up with all of these blasts from the past, but I was glad to see him. He and his brother made up a good, happy portion of my past, which was significant since I mostly felt sad when I thought about earlier years.

Before either of us could say anything else, Kit’s phone started ringing, prompting him to check the screen with a sheepish look on his face.

“Sorry, it’s the station officer from the local fire station here,” he explained.

My heart stopped.

“Cohen?” I blurted out the name.

Kit flashed me a confused look.

“Yeah, how did you know that?” he asked.

“How do you know him?” I pitched a question right back at him.

“Kieran and I just transferred from our old fire station to this one,” Kit explained.

Was someone playing a prank on me? I grabbed his upper arms as I leaned closer to him.

“You’re part of the fire crew now too?”