Serial

Diary Entry: December 16th

December 16th

It's all over.

Everything I've worked for, everything I've done to keep the cops from discovering me...it's all coming to an end.

So how am I finally going to be caught?

Well, it's not because I messed up and left DNA evidence at one of my dump sites. I was never spotted committing any crimes. I left behind no witnesses that could point the finger my way.

No, I'm going to be sent to jail for the rest of my life because of a few dumb-ass drifters who thought it'd be a good idea to start a bonfire in the middle of the woods.

That's right. My life is over because of a freaking forest fire. I'm embarrassed to even admit it, it's so fucking stupid, but it's true. These three homeless guys made their way into the woods a few hundred feet away from my cabin, and then nearly burned the whole damn thing down.

Apparently, when forest rangers and first responders arrived on the scene, the fire was already raging out of control. There were plenty of homes in the area, and while half the firefighters raced to put out the flames, the other half went about evacuating the houses that were in danger of being affected.

This included mine.

"Is this Kyle Grafton?" a voice had asked when I answered my cell at 5:15 this morning. The ringtone had woken me up out of a sound sleep and I'd picked it up without even looking at the caller ID. This was something I tended not to do, because I liked to be prepared for anything. But this time I was so caught off guard that I'd simply answered it. Not recognizing the voice, I finally looked at my screen and saw that the number was blocked.

This alone should've filled me with suspicion, but like I said, it was 5:15 in the morning, and I was barely awake yet.

"This is him," I'd answered, rubbing at my eyes, but not moving from the warmth of my sheets.

My initial worry was that something had happened to my daughter. I imagined that she'd been in a car accident and the hospital was calling me to get my permission to operate. Or possibly to tell me that she'd perished in the crash. The idea that she might be gone, that I'd never get to see my kid again filled me with dread.

"Hello, Mr. Grafton. Sorry to call you so early, but there's been an accident..." the man on the other end had said.

A ringing began in my ears and I nearly dropped the phone.

No. No. No. No. No.

I instantly thought I was being punished. The universe was taking away the only thing I loved, because of all the lives I'd destroyed. If there was, in fact, a God—something I'd never believed in the past—did He work this way? Enact vengeance on those who hadn't followed His commandments?