“We?” I asked in a dangerously low tone.
She looked at my sergeant, then back to me, and after her mouth opened and shut a few times, she stuttered, “M-m-my boyfriend came over. We used the guest room next to Natalie’s room; I lit a bu— A few candles. Some were on the window seat, and there are long curtains there, but I thought they were far enough away, I swear, I thought they were!”
I nodded slowly and shrugged. “Well, accidents like this can happen if you’re not careful.” Relief started washing over her features at my reaction to what she’d been telling me, but quickly left when I leveled a glare at her and asked, “What I want to know is, why you didn’t grab Natalie on your way out. You said you tried to go to her window from the outside, but if the fire started in the room next to Natalie’s, then why wouldn’t you have just grabbed her before you ran out?”
“Alexander,” Sergeant warned, but I didn’t stop glaring at the teenage girl in front of me, or waiting for a response.
“Because it got too big,” she said too quickly, and her eyes darted everywhere except to look at me.
“No, you could’ve easily gotten her. Try again. Why didn’t you grab her?”
She swallowed roughly a couple of times, and her body seemed to crumble. “We left the room to get ice cream, and then never went back in there because he wanted . . . because I—” She started sobbing and slapped a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t know it would happen!”
“So you didn’t fall asleep then?”
“What?” she asked with wide eyes.
“Earlier, you said you fell asleep. Are you saying that didn’t happen?”
“N-no.”
I watched as she looked all around, her shoulders jerking with silent sobs. “Are you going to arrest me?”
I huffed. “No, I’m not a cop. I’m just not letting you near that little girl, and I wanted the real story because the first one didn’t make sense. Where’s your boyfriend anyway?”
Her eyes got impossibly wider with fear, but before she could make up some other bullshit excuse, she shrugged like she was exhausted and said, “He was afraid he was going to get in trouble. He ran as soon as your truck started coming down the street.”
“Well, he sounds great. Some advice: dump him, and stay away from me for the rest of the night.”
“Alexander,” Sergeant said again in an annoyed tone.
“I’m done,” I responded, and turned back to the truck to find the EMTs finishing up with Natalie; her smile widened when she saw me. “Superman!”
I barked out a laugh. “Superman? Is that who I am?”
“Yes, because you can fly,” she responded, as if it were old news.
I sat down near where she was sitting on the stretcher and made a face. “But I don’t have a cape,” I said lamely. “Superman has a cape.”
Natalie looked like I’d just given her the worst news in the world, but then gasped and held up the blanket I’d seen her gripping earlier—a blanket covered in stars. “Here!”
I gently took the blanket from her, and couldn’t stop the smile in response to hers. “But this is your cape; it helped you fly.”
“Only because you fly,” she whispered, like we were sharing a deep secret.
Most of her face had been cleaned, and I couldn’t stop smiling at the brave, dimpled girl who thought I was Superman and wanted to give me her starry blanket. “I think you should keep this.” Natalie’s face fell, so I quickly continued. “That way you can remember the night you got to fly with Superman. Besides, it looks like it’s a special blanket.”
“Cape!” she corrected with a stern look.
“Cape,” I amended.
She took the blanket back and ran her tiny fingers across it a few times before admitting, “The stars kept me safe until you came to save me.” She poked a few of the stars on the pattern as she spoke. Without waiting for me to ask what she meant, she gave me a shy look, slowly placed the blanket around her mouth and nose, and took a few exaggerated breaths.
“That was a very smart thing to do.”
Natalie nodded and removed the blanket, then looked up toward the night sky, which was blocked by what little remained of the fire and the dark smoke. “Do you like stars, Superman?”
My lips twitched into a smile. “The stars and I are old friends.”
She gasped excitedly and asked, “You’re friends? What do they say to you?”
Without missing a beat I said, “That you’re the bravest little girl.”
“I am,” she responded seriously, and patted my arm with her tiny hand; her head was still tilted back in a vain attempt to see the stars. “And you’re my bravest Superman.”
Chapter 10
Harlow
Summer 2010—Walla Walla
I STARED AT my phone for a few seconds once it stopped spinning, then put my fingers on the screen and gave it another spin.