Chapter5
1722 Words
~ LILY ~
The knock at the door was sharp enough to make me jump, my heart still hammering from the fire earlier. Grace had insisted I come back to my apartment—to rest, regroup, and wait until the authorities had finished investigating. But even here, in the supposed safety of my own home, I felt exposed, raw, like someone had ripped the protective skin off my life.
“Lily? You okay?” Grace’s voice was calm, but she stayed near the doorway, watching me like a hawk.
I rubbed at my temples. “I… I think so. I just… can’t stop thinking about the fire. About… someone doing that.”
Before Grace could respond, my phone buzzed insistently on the table. I picked it up, heart in my throat. It was the police.
Lily Parker?” a male voice asked, clipped and professional. “This is Officer Daniels with the city police. I need you to come down to the station. It’s regarding the fire at your studio. Can you come in for questioning?”
I froze. My throat tightened. The words echoed in my mind: your studio, questioning. I swallowed, trying to steady my voice. “Yes. I can come,” I said finally, forcing the words past the lump of fear lodged in my chest. “When do you need me?”
“Within the hour,” he replied. “Bring any security footage, records, or recent visitors if possible. And don’t discuss this with anyone else yet.”
“I understand,” I said, and the call ended.
I lowered the phone, my hands shaking slightly. Grace’s eyes were immediately on me, sharp, worried.
“What did they say?” she asked softly.
“They… want me to come to the station. For questions. Protocol, they said,” I murmured, my voice thinner than I intended.
Grace rubbed her thumb across my knuckles. “Okay. Then we’ll go. But Lily, always remember, you’re not alone in this.”
I nodded, though a pit of dread had settled in my stomach. Alone or not, the thought of answering questions about the fire made my skin crawl. And worse, someone had started that fire on purpose. That thought was like ice sliding down my spine.
I changed quickly, shoving myself into something less fragile than the sweater and jeans I’d worn earlier. Grace helped me gather my things: a folder of recent invoices, receipts, and security logs from the studio, everything the police might ask for.
The ride to the station was quiet, heavy. Grace kept a steady hand on my arm, her presence grounding me, but I could feel my heart hammering in my ribs. Each stoplight felt like a countdown to something worse. I was trying not to think about who could have done it, and failing miserably.
At the station, the air was sterile,and the hum of activity everywhere. An Officer approached us and introduced himself as Officer Daniels.
“Ms. Parker, thank you for coming so quickly. Please, follow me,” he said.
Inside the interview room, the cold metal chair pressed against my back, and the officer slid a folder toward me. “We’ll start with basic protocol questions. I know this is stressful, but we need details about who had access to your studio, any disputes, recent visitors, anything that might have led to this fire.”
I nodded, my throat dry. “I, I understand.”
“Do you have any idea who could have done this?” he asked, calm but firm.
I hesitated. The images of flames clawing at everything I had worked for flashed behind my eyes. I shook my head. “No… I can’t think. I mean, someone could have wanted to sabotage the studio. I don’t know who. I didn’t have… I didn’t have enemies that I knew of.”
Officer Daniels scribbled something in the folder. “Anything unusual recently? Any threats? Emails? calls?”
I swallowed hard. “I got a call this morning from a man named James. He works in the building across from the studio. He said the fire had started and I needed to get there immediately. By the time I arrived…” My voice faltered. “It was already burning.”
He nodded. “Good, we’ll need that number. And your studio security footage, if you have it.”
I nodded again, shoving the folder toward him. Every piece of paper felt like a fragment of my life I didn’t want to give away. But I had no choice.
Then came the hardest question. “Lily… anyone you think might want to hurt you? Or the company?”
I hesitated, the words stuck in my throat. My mind raced. Who? Who would go this far? And then, almost involuntarily, Adrian’s face filled my thoughts. His cold expression, the way he’d walked away the day of the divorce. I shook my head. “I… I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”
He leaned back, studying me. “Alright. We’ll do our best to figure this out. If anyone comes forward with information, you’ll be notified immediately. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I whispered, trying to make the word sound stronger than it felt.
The questioning continued for another half hour, each question tearing at my nerves. Who I’d let into the studio. What hours I’d been there. Everything that might have prevented this. And every time I answered, I felt a piece of my control slip further.
Finally, Officer Daniels nodded. “Thank you, Ms. Parker. That will be all for now. If anything else comes up, we’ll contact you. Stay alert, and don’t go anywhere alone for the next few days.”
Grace’s hand found mine as we walked out, giving me a steady squeeze. “You’re okay,” she whispered. “You survived the fire, you answered their questions. That’s more than enough for today.”
I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that surviving wasn’t just a temporary reprieve from disaster. But the thought of who had started the fire, why they targeted me, churned in my stomach like acid. Every sketch, every camera, every file I had worked on for years—gone. And someone had done this intentionally.
The questions, the accusations, the look in the officer’s eyes, it all pressed down on me like a weight I couldn’t shake. I had no answers, only suspicion, fear, and the raw ache of knowing my life had just been set on fire, literally and figuratively.
- Writer
