Page 62 of What They'll Say About Us

She'd no sooner asked the question when the smoke alarms started going off.

"It must be on the first floor," I said.

Morgan took out her phone and called 911. I grabbed my computer and shoved it into my tote bag, then ran back to my room to throw on sweats and sneakers. When I returned to the living room, Morgan had also put on clothes and was loading her computer, files, and notes into her backpack.

"Fire department is on the way," she said. "Someone else called it in."

"Good. Let's get out of here."

She put the backpack over her shoulders and then grabbed the bag with our bigger camera and recording equipment.

I wished we could pack up all our things, but there was no time. Hopefully, the fire would be contained to the first floor. We moved to the door, but as I opened it, I saw flames at the bottom of the stairwell, and I slammed it shut. "The fire is on the stairs."

I ran to the windows and started opening them, hoping it wasn't a mistake to allow more oxygen into the room, but I needed fresh air to dispel the smoke that was burning my throat, and we needed to find another way out. With the windows open, I could hear the distant sound of sirens.

"They're on their way," I said. "I just hope they're fast enough."

"If they're not, how are we going to get out of here?"

"We can go out this window if we have to. We're only on the second floor."

"It's still pretty high. You don't think we're going to have to jump, do you?" she asked, her lips tight, her face pale.

"I'm sure they'll have a ladder. We're going to be okay, Morgan."

"This isn't an accident, Tessa. This is about Paige and our investigation."

"Probably," I said, turning back to the window as the engines came screaming down the street. The retail businesses were all closed, as it was the middle of the night, so there was no one around that I could see, but at some point, someone had broken in and set fire to the building.

As firefighters hit the sidewalk, I called out, waving my hands, yelling that we were trapped, and the fire was in the stairwell.

One of the firefighters told us to stay where we were as other firefighters ran down the street toward the breezeway, and the remaining personnel started setting up hoses to put out the fire.

As I leaned out the window, I suddenly realized that there were flames in the downstairs windows of the yoga studio.

"Oh, God!" Morgan said, sticking her head out next to mine. "The fire isn't just on the stairs. It's swallowing up the first floor. How are they going to get to us?"

I didn't have to answer because the firefighters were now extending a ladder from the truck below, aiming it directly toward our window. We definitely weren't going down the stairs. When the ladder reached the window, a firefighter raced up and extended his hand to me. "Let's go."

"Morgan, you first," I said, stepping back.

"Tessa—"

"Go." This fire was because of me. I had to make sure she was safe.

Morgan climbed out the window with her backpack over her shoulders and the equipment bag in her hand, which the firefighter took from her as he helped her down the ladder.

I put the strap of my tote bag crossways over my chest and waited for him to come back. He had just started up again when the door to the apartment blew violently open, sending chunks of wood and debris flying across the room, along with a cascading waterfall of fiery sparks. I ducked down but felt hot, sharp bites on my head and back as the debris fell around me.

When I looked up, the fire was in the room, a raging monster of orange and yellow flames that completely paralyzed me. The monster was coming straight for me. And I wasn't sure there was anything I could do to stop it. The smoke was so thick now that I could barely see the window. I started to cough, my throat beginning to burn, and then a firefighter came through the window and dragged me to my feet, pushing me through the falling sparks to the window. He helped me over the sill and onto the ladder where another firefighter was waiting. He helped me get down to the street where Morgan was waiting, and I fell into her arms as we hugged each other tightly.

For a second there, I hadn't been sure I'd make it out at all.

"Thank God," Morgan whispered as we pulled away to look at each other. "You're covered in ash, and there are splinters in your hair. Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so."

Two EMTs came over to check each one of us out. We were given water and some oxygen, which did help ease the burning in my throat. But I refused a trip to the hospital, and so did Morgan. With that, they headed back to the ambulance to wait until the fire was out and all the firefighters were safe.