“She’s leveled up from horrible to a damn murderer,” Michael said. “To killing a kid. And odds are good nobody’s going to do a damn thing about it. They’ll probably say it was bad wiring or some bullshit, and the mayor’s precious daughter won’t even get a slap on the hand.”
That was harsh. It was probably also really, really true, and it made Eve want to throw up. She couldn’t get her head around it. Alyssa, gone? Alyssa was in junior high. A cute, funny girl who would have grown up to be a sassy woman, who should have been able to do all the things that Eve was still experiencing—have her first boyfriend, her first kiss, her first love.
But Lyss would never get those things, and it was so hard to imagine.
There was a giant rush of sound from the house, and big timbers collapsed, still burning. The walls caved in. Flames shot so high it looked as if they were scorching the stars above, but the fire didn’t warm Eve anymore. Her hands felt icy, and she needed the heat of Michael’s body against hers. He must have felt the same, because he held on, and there was no distance between them. No barriers.
The two of them stood like that until the flames began to die down, and the crowd started to disperse, and night took darker hold around them. The cops hadn’t bothered them, but now Detective Hess came striding over, grim-faced, to talk to Michael.
That meant they had to separate, and it hurt; it physically ached in her to see Michael standing so alone, with that pain still etched into his face.
Hess asked questions, but there wasn’t much that Michael could answer. He’d seen the fire in the distance, realized it might be his friend’s house, and gotten here in time to see Shane pulled out of the burning front door by his dad. Nobody had been able to get inside after that; it was too dangerous.
Unspoken in that, Eve realized, was that Michael had probably tried. Or worse, had been forced to hold Shane back from rushing back in to die. How hard would that have been for him, to do that?
“Okay,” Detective Hess finally said, and closed up his notebook to slip it in his jacket pocket. He seemed weary and beaten by the whole thing, or maybe just by being a lifelong Morganville resident. “Thanks for your help, Michael. I’ll be in touch if we have more questions.”
Michael hesitated and said, “Did Shane already tell you about Monica?”
Detective Hess paused in the act of turning away. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“He saw her outside. She had a lighter. She was flicking it and smiling. Pretty easy to draw that picture.”
“Pretty easy to draw the wrong one, too,” Hess said, and gave Michael a long look. “Did you see her? See her set the fire?”
“I believe Shane.” Michael’s voice was even, but the muscles in his face and shoulders were tense.
Hess nodded and finally faced Eve. “You, Miss Rosser? When did you arrive?”
“I saw the fire from my house,” she said. “I came to see if everybody was okay.”
“You’re friends with Shane as well; is that right?”
Eve nodded. She realized she didn’t even look like herself just now—hair down and limp around her face, no makeup, ratty random clothing. “I don’t know how to help him through this.”
“It’s a terrible thing,” Hess agreed. “Not much anybody can do right now. Anything more you can add, either one of you? Anybody you know of who would have had a reason to do something like this to the Collins family?”
“Nobody,” Eve said. “I mean, his dad’s not the nicest guy, but . . .” She spread her hands helplessly. It was setting in, the reality of what had happened to her friend, his sister, his whole family, and she felt sick to her stomach and none too steady. “No. Just . . . take a look at Monica.”
“Why do you think she’d do a thing like this?”
Eve didn’t have an answer, but Michael finally did. “I wasn’t going to say this, but I guess I should. Shane and Monica kind of got into it this afternoon at school. She came on to him and he told her to back off. She didn’t take it too well.”
“Wow,” Eve said. “Seriously? She . . .”
“Tried to stick her tongue down his throat? Yeah. He made it pretty clear it was never going to happen, and she got . . . angry.”
Hess raised his eyebrows a little and took out his notebook to make a note, but Eve didn’t think he looked convinced.
“Maybe she didn’t mean it to go this far,” Eve said. “I hate to try to excuse the Queen of Stupidly Mean, but maybe she only meant to scare him and it got out of control . . . ? I can’t believe she really set out to kill anybody.”