Barnaby brought another one from Chloe’s bedroom last night, my husband David said, placing a heavy platinum signet ring onto the marble kitchen island.
As Leo emerged from the treeline, his small figure partially obscured by the fading daylight, Chloe Kensington happened to be on her back patio. She was on the phone, her voice low and agitated.
She spotted the manila folder clutched in Leo’s hand. Her eyes, usually so composed, widened with a flash of panic. Her conversation ended abruptly.
I was still reeling from the homeowner’s board meeting, the threat of mandated counseling hanging over me. David was pacing the living room, muttering about “finding a compromise.” My phone pinged: a text from Evelyn, subtly suggesting a therapist.
I glanced out the window and saw Chloe, now off the phone, calling out to Leo.
“Leo, darling! What a surprise! Did you have fun in the woods?” she cooed, her voice sickly sweet.
Leo, usually reticent, paused, the envelope a noticeable bulge in his scout bag. He looked from Chloe’s overly bright smile to her detached guesthouse, a small structure behind her main home.
“I just came back from exploring,” he mumbled, trying to walk past her towards our house.
“Oh, I see you found something interesting!” Chloe said, her eyes fixed on his bag. “What’s in the folder, sweetie? Is it drawings? I love your drawings.”
Leo tightened his grip on the strap. “It’s nothing. Just some old maps.”
“Maps?” Chloe giggled, a hollow sound. “How fascinating! You know, I just made a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies. And I have some new mango ice cream. Would you like to come in for a treat? Just for a moment.”
Leo hesitated. He loved mango ice cream. But something in Chloe’s voice, a tension just beneath the surface, made him uneasy. He remembered what his mom had said about Chloe.
“No, thank you,” he said, trying to quicken his pace. “I need to get home.”
Chloe’s smile flickered. “Oh, but it’s important! I wanted to show you something in my guesthouse. A little secret passage, just for you.”
She gestured towards the guesthouse. It was a standalone structure, usually used for storage or guests, with a small garage bay attached.
Leo, curious despite his unease, glanced towards the guesthouse. A “secret passage” sounded exactly like something Marcus would build. Could there be more clues?
He followed her, a little reluctantly, towards the guesthouse.
Inside, the guesthouse was dark and cluttered. Chloe flipped a switch, bathing the small garage area in a harsh fluorescent light. Paint cans, old furniture, and stacks of boxes lined the walls.
“It’s just over here,” Chloe said, leading him to a corner piled with rags and old paint thinner cans. Her eyes darted to his bag again. “Why don’t you put your bag down for a second, sweetie? You can’t enjoy ice cream with a heavy bag.”
Leo hesitated, then carefully placed his bag beside a stack of old newspapers.
Chloe moved quickly, her back to him, rustling through some papers. “Oh, dear, I can’t seem to find my matches. Have you seen any, Leo?”
He shook his head, looking around.
Suddenly, with a swift, almost imperceptible motion, Chloe pulled a lighter from her pocket. She bent down, pretending to look for something, and with a small, quiet flick, ignited a pile of rags soaked in paint thinner.
A small flame bloomed, then grew, licking hungrily at the rags. The smell of acrid smoke immediately filled the air.
Chloe let out a theatrical scream. “Oh, my goodness! What was that? Leo, did you—”
The smoke alarm, shrill and piercing, ripped through the quiet evening.
Leo stared at the growing flame, then at Chloe’s face, twisted into a mask of contrived horror. He knew. He saw the flicker in her eyes, the quick motion of her hand. She had started the fire.
And she was going to blame him.
He grabbed his bag, his mind racing. The letter. The truth. He had to get out.
Chloe, still screaming, backed away from the spreading flames. “Leo! What have you done? You were playing with matches!”
Just then, I heard the piercing shriek of the smoke alarm. My heart leaped into my throat. Leo!
I ran, my legs burning, toward Chloe’s guesthouse, the terrifying wail growing louder with every step.
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours