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Sarah finds a change of clothes in the fourth car we check. They’re close enough to what I was wearing—jeans and a button-down shirt—that no one will notice the difference. When we reach the house we stand as far away as possible while still being able to see. The house has collapsed in on itself and is now nothing more than a twisted heap of blackened coals soggy with water. Wisps of smoke sporadically rise, looking ghastly in the night sky. There are three fire trucks. I count six cop cars. Nine sets of flashing lights but no sound to go with them. Few people, if any, have left. They’ve been pushed back, the house cordoned off with yellow tape. The police officers are questioning some of them. Five firemen stand in the middle of it all, sifting through the rubble.
Then I hear “There they are!” yelled from behind me. Every set of eyes in the crowd turns my way. It takes me a full five seconds to realize that it is me the person is referring to.
Four police officers walk towards us. Behind them is a man holding a notepad and tape recorder. While we were looking for the clothes, Sarah and I agreed on a story. I came around the back of the house where she was watching the fire. She had jumped out of the second-floor window with the dogs, who had run away. We had watched away from the crowd, but eventually drifted over and joined it. I explained to her that we couldn’t tell anyone about what happened, not even Sam or Henri, that if anyone found out the truth, I would have to leave immediately. We agreed that I would answer the questions and she would agree with whatever I said.
“Are you John Smith?” one of the cops asks me. The officer is of medium height, and stands with his shoulders hunched. He isn’t overweight but is fa
r from being in shape, with a slight paunch and an overall look of softness.
“Yes, why?”
“Two people said they saw you run into that house and then come flying out the back of it like Superman, with the dogs and the girl in your arms. ”
“Seriously?” I ask in disbelief. Sarah stays beside me.
“That’s what they said. ”
I fake a laugh. “The house was on fire. Do I look like I was inside a burning house?”
He scrunches his eyebrows together and rests his hands on his hips. “So you’re telling me you didn’t go in there?”
“I came around the back to try and find Sarah,” I say. “She had gotten out with the dogs. We stayed back there and watched the fire and then came over here. ”
The officer looks at Sarah. “Is that true?”
“Yes. ”
“Well, who ran into that house, then?” the reporter beside him chimes in. It’s his first time speaking. He watches me with shrewd, judging eyes. I can already tell that he doesn’t believe my story.
“How do I know?” I say.
He nods his head and writes something in his notebook. I can’t read what it says.
“So you’re telling me these two witnesses are liars?” the reporter asks.
“Baines,” the officer says, shaking his head at him.
I nod. “I didn’t go into the house and save her or the dogs. They were outside. ”
“Who said anything about saving her or the dogs?” Baines asks.
I shrug. “I thought that’s what you were implying. ”
“I didn’t imply anything. ”
Sam walks up with my phone. I try to fix him with a stare to tell him the timing is bad, but he doesn’t understand and he hands me my phone anyway.
“Thanks,” I say.
“I’m happy you’re okay,” he says. The officers glare at him and he slinks away.
Baines watches with his eyes squinted. He’s chewing gum, trying to piece the information together. He nods to himself.
“So you handed your phone to your friend before you went for a walk?” he asks.
“I handed him my phone during the party. It was uncomfortable in my pocket. ”
“I bet it was,” Baines says. “So where did you go?”
“All right, Baines, that’s enough questions,” the officer says.
“Can I leave?” I ask him. He nods his head. I walk away with my phone in my hand, dialing Henri’s number with Sarah at my side.
“Hello,” answers Henri.
“I’m ready to be picked up,” I say. “There’s been a terrible fire here. ”
“What?”
“Can you just pick us up?”
“Yes. I’ll be right there. ”
“So how do you explain the cut on the top of your head?” Baines asks from behind me. He had been following me, listening to my call to Henri.
“I cut it on a branch in the woods. ”
“How convenient,” he says, and again writes something in his notebook. “You know I can tell when I’m being lied to, right?”
