Failing Upward

Chapter 4 (part 2): Hidden Hills

"Shut up, Mary," I said. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," she squealed. "I was worried. But this is great. I'm so happy for you. At least for this..."

"Coffee. I need caffeine," I said, noticing trail of blood on the vinyl floor. "And a band-aid."

"I think you better sit down," she said, but she really hadn't noticed my toe.

"I already know. I don't have to sit down. Why do you think I spent the night?" I inspected my throbbing toe then her face, and I didn't like the concern on her face or Sherlock's. Not the toe. Also not my house. What? I hesitated.

"Well, maybe I better then," I said.

"I think you had," Sherlock said.

I limped to the kitchen table and sat down, wincing as I picked off what was left of my toenail.

"Your house wasn't all that caught on fire last night," Sherlock said, sitting down with his coffee on the opposite side of the table. "The Road House burned to the ground too."

"But that's not possible," I said although the moment I said it I knew I'd get a raised eyebrow from Sherlock. He always said that there were no coincidences, just stupid people who didn't know how to connect the dots.

I was at both places. I was one of the dots.

"I've already been out look at the building--what's left of it. The Road House fire started after the manager locked up. Both fires started using an ignitable liquid in multiple places of origin. In both, the arsonists did little to hide their crime. As I suspected with your break in and fire, it was indeed 'arsonists' plural. Who ever burned your house, burned the bar."

He was on a roll. I put my head between my legs. No stopping him.

"I know we were going to talk about this together when you got up, and you probably would like more coffee, but we must do it now. The fire that killed your parents and sister, I never looked into it, not enough. Now I know I should have, John, even if you didn't want me to. I always suspected ."

"It was an accident. It started in the basement," I said. "The furnace." My heart pounded in my ears.

"It burned fast. It spread in an unusual pattern. It became engulfed almost immediately, not unusual, but the intensity was. The second floor collapsed into the basement in less than 15 minutes," Sherlock said, which lead me to the conclusion that he'd just lied--he had looked into it. Closely.

"Jesus." I pulled at my hair. Upstairs. That's where they were all sleeping. There wasn't time to get out.

"Sherlock, do you have to do this?" Mary asked rubbing my back. I shook my head. He wasn't right. It was an accident.

"Yes, Mary, I do." Sherlock paused for a moment, then continued. "The most damning evidence of all was the smoke detectors. They did not wake your family. There were no batteries in the detectors. John, we both know that to be an impossibility. Your father was obsessed with checking them."

"I never understood who would have taken them out."

"John, you must consider..."

" No ."

"Yes, John. After what has happened, you must. There was something at all three scenes that ties them together."

"Me," I said, choking back a sob.

"But you weren't there," Mary said. "He was with me that night of that fire."

I could have saved them if I was there. I could have saved them. But I wasn't there.