Red Nights - Shari J. Ryan Page 0,3

walks in, dressed in business casual clothes and a stern expression. He’s around Dad’s age, and looks like an all-work no-play type of man. “Miss Stone?” he confirms. I nod, pushing myself up into a sitting position. “I’m Detective Earnst.” He reaches out to shake my hand. “I’ll make this quick, as I know you want to get out of here.” And say good-bye to Blake forever? I’d rather stay.

“You can take as long as you need,” I tell him.

He raises a brow and hands me a clipboard with a piece of paper covered with questions and a large box for a written statement. “Could you fill this out for me first?”

I study the questions, noting their simplicity. My name, birthdate, address, phone number. As I press the pen to the paper, my hand begins to tremble. I haven’t thought much past what it’s going to be like to see Blake for the last time. But the fact that I lost my house and everything in it is a new reality I’m trying to accept.

I continue to answer the questions. My handwriting looks like a first grader’s. In the statement, I write down that the fire had to be some kind of accident. I don’t know what I could have done to cause it.

“Can you also write down a timeline of events from when you got home that day until you noticed the fire?” he asks, pointing to the bottom of the paper. I can’t even remember what happened. Everything is a blur. I came home to what I thought was an empty house, not realizing Blake was actually asleep in his room…he was supposed to be away for the weekend with some friends. I made dinner and went to bed. What else is there to write?

I scribble everything down in three short lines and hand the clipboard back to him. “This is all I can remember.”

“Do you have any indication as to what may have started the fire?” he asks, resting his elbows over his knees.

“I don’t know. I—I can’t think of anything.” I can’t even wrap my head around what the hell is happening right now. How I ended up here. How my life just fucking burned to pieces right in front of my eyes.

“Investigators discovered that the smoke alarm near the bedrooms didn’t have batteries in them. Were you aware?”

All of the air is sucked out of my lungs, and my face goes cold. “I took the batteries out last week. They were chirping, and I didn’t have time to…I mean, I forgot to replace them.” How could I do something so stupid?

“None of the alarms appeared to have been functioning properly,” he adds.

“I didn’t know the others weren’t working. I only knew about the one in the hallway near the bedrooms.” It’s not like I’ve tested them since I moved in two years ago. I just assumed they worked.

He nods again, this time with a shroud of disappointment. “Your brother lived with you, correct?”

Everything is past tense. Blake is about to become past tense. “Yes; he had for a few months. He was in-between jobs and apartments. But I didn’t know he was home that night. I thought he was away on a camping trip for the weekend. That’s why I didn’t think to save him.” The tears return. “He wasn’t supposed to be there.” Why am I being forced to talk about this right now? I don’t want to remember anything, and he’s expecting me to. Doesn’t he care about how I feel right now? About how hard this is for me?

He straightens up and flips the questionnaire over to jot down notes. Every word I’ve said, for all I know. “Is there anything else you can think of that might help us out?”

“Not that I can think of right now,” I say.

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a business card. “If you think of anything, I want you call me right away.”

I take the card and set it on the bedside table. “I will.”

He stands up, straightening his pants under his gut. “Thank you. The investigation will probably take a few weeks. As soon as I have any information, I’ll be in touch.”

* * *

Not long after Detective Earnst left, Mom and Dad arrived to help with my discharge. Mom brought me some new clothes, which unfortunately, I will never wear again. I won’t ever be able to even look at these clothes after I say good-bye to Blake.

Dad leads us