“You can’t arrest me because my girlfriend misunderstood something.”
Vanessa recoiled as if he had slapped her.
Girlfriend.
The word had finally been useful.
Patricia moved toward the elevator.
Detective Briggs stepped into her path.
“Mrs. Whitmore, you too.”
“I need my medication.”
“We’ll have someone retrieve it.”
Ryan’s phone buzzed.
He ignored it.
It buzzed again.
Then again.
He looked down.
Marisol.
He answered.
“Tell me.”
Her voice came through thin and terrified.
“Mr. Ryan, I’m at the house.”
Ryan turned away from the group.
“What happened?”
“I came like you said. The side door was open.”
His eyes sharpened.
“Are you inside?”
“No. I stayed outside. But there’s smoke.”
Ryan’s gaze moved to Patricia.
She was watching him now.
Not with fear.
With warning.
Marisol whispered, “Someone is burning papers behind the garage.”
Ryan covered the phone and looked at Detective Alvarez.
“Whitmore house. Now.”
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