Ashes Of Blackwell

Aiden Blackwell had always thought of fire as something controlled. A low flame in a marble hearth. A glass of Scotch warming his hands. Something that belonged where it was and stayed there. He woke to the alarm. Not the soft chime he had set on his phone. This was louder. Continuous. For a few seconds, he lay still, trying to understand what he was hearing. Then he smelled smoke. He was out of bed before he was fully awake. Aiden opened the bedroom door and stopped. The smoke had already reached the upper floor. It hung beneath the ceiling, thickening by the second, pushing along the corridor in grey layers. Somewhere below, something cracked. Then came the sound of glass breaking. He ran. The marble was cold beneath his bare feet. By the time he reached the staircase, the cold had disappeared. Heat rolled upward from the west wing. His mother and Isabella were in the gym. They worked out together most mornings. It was routine. One of those things Aiden never had to think about. He took the stairs two at a time. "Mom!" No answer. "Isabella!" A scream came from somewhere ahead. His stomach dropped. He ran towards it. The hallway to the gym was already burning. Flames moved along the curtains and climbed the walls. Smoke poured through the doorway in thick bursts. A section of the ceiling began to sag. Aiden pulled his shirt over his mouth and pushed forward. "Isabella!" "Aiden!" He heard her, but he couldn't see her. "Where are you?" A cough answered him. He followed it to the staircase. Isabella was on the floor. She had fallen against the bottom step, one hand pressed to her mouth. Soot covered her face. Her hair cascaded along one side, and she was coughing so hard she could barely breathe. Aiden dropped beside her. "Hey. Hey, look at me." Her eyes found his. "Aiden." "Can you stand?" She tried. Her legs gave way. Aiden caught her. "It hurts." "I know." He lifted her. A beam cracked somewhere above them. Aiden looked up. Fire had reached the ceiling. "Hold on to me." He turned toward the exit. The heat hit his back. Isabella buried her face against his shoulder as he pushed through the smoke. He could barely see more than a few feet ahead. His eyes streamed. Every breath burned. "Don't close your eyes," he said. "I can't..." "Yes, you can. Stay awake." Something crashed behind them. Aiden flinched, but kept moving. "Mom!" He stopped for half a second. "Mom!" Only the fire answered. Isabella coughed against his neck. He looked at the doorway ahead. Outside. He tightened his grip around her and kept going. A section of the ceiling came down behind them. The impact shook the floor. Aiden ran. He crossed the threshold just as flames burst through the windows behind him. Cold air struck his face. He stumbled onto the lawn and went down on one knee, still holding Isabella. People were running toward them. Firefighters and paramedics. Someone tried to take her from his arms. "Sir, let us have her." Aiden didn't move. "Sir." He looked down. Isabella wasn't breathing. "No." His hand went to her cheek. "Isabella." No response. "No. Come on." A paramedic dropped beside them. "Sir, I need you to let go." Aiden stared at his sister. "Open your eyes." The paramedic pulled him back. Aiden resisted for a moment before his arms finally loosened. They lifted Isabella onto the stretcher. He watched them work. They compressed her chest, then put a bag over her mouth. Someone was calling out numbers. He stood there while they fought for a life that was already gone. Then he looked back at the house. The west wing was burning through the roof. His mother was still inside. The roof had collapsed. Several walls had come down. Windows had blackened holes, and smoke continued to rise from the remains. Aiden stood barefoot on the wet lawn. Detective Harris approached him. Ash covered his shoes. "Aiden." Aiden looked at him. Harris hesitated. "We found your mother... I'm sorry." Aiden looked back at the ruins. He didn't respond. Harris waited before he continued. "Paramedics just took a girl out of here, barely twenty, found unconscious by the gates. Her ID says Alara Hayes. Aiden, the department will handle this. We have enough here for first-degree murder." He took out the evidence bag. "We found a lighter, just a few feet from her, with her initials A.H." "Alara Hayes," Aiden repeated it once, almost absently. Then he turned his attention back to the detective. Aiden held out his hand. Harris didn't give it to him. "I can't." Aiden looked at Harris. "You found a lighter with her initials. And you want me to wait while you work out whether she did this." "That is how an investigation works." Aiden held his gaze. "What happens next?" Harris sighed. "We will question her when she's medically fit. We'll collect statements. Examine the scene. Check cameras, phones, anything that can establish where she was and when she arrived." "And if you decide she did it?" "Then we charge her." Aiden's eyes hardened. "And if you don't?" Harris didn't answer immediately. "Aiden, don't do anything stupid." Aiden looked down at the evidence bag. The initials stared back at him. A.H. He held out his hand again. This time, Harris's expression changed. "No." Aiden looked at him. "You're going to give me that." "I can't." "My mother and sister are dead." "I know. And I'm sorry," Harris said. "Then don't stand there and tell me about procedure." Harris's jaw tightened. "Aiden, whatever you're thinking, stop." Aiden stepped closer. His voice dropped. "My mother paid for the new precinct." Harris said nothing. "My late father made one phone call when your brother needed the dock job." Aiden watched the detective's face. "You've spent years asking my family for favors." "That doesn't mean I'm going to destroy an investigation for you." "I didn't ask you to destroy it." "You're asking me to hand over evidence." Aiden glanced at the lighter. "I'm asking for forty-eight hours." Harris stared at him. "Forty-eight hours for what?" "To find out who Alara Hayes is." "Aiden, you're not a detective; leave everything to me." "She was there when my family died, but she is alive. I need to know why." Neither man spoke. Behind them, part of the west wing collapsed. The sound rolled across the estate. Aiden didn't turn around. Harris looked at him for a long moment. Then he lowered the evidence bag. "You never saw this." Aiden took it. Harris's voice hardened. "If forensics asks, it will remain in its current location." Aiden closed his fingers around the bag. Harris stepped back. "And Aiden?" Aiden looked at him. "Don't make me regret this." Aiden said nothing. He looked down at the lighter again. A.H.