Ryan moves through the kitchen. Sets the gas can down. Starts unscrewing the cap.
“Now.”
Officers flood the kitchen from three directions. Guns drawn. Shouting.
“Police! Hands up!”
“Don’t move!”
“Get on the ground!”
Ryan freezes. The gas can falls from his hands, splashing accelerant across the kitchen floor. His face goes from shock to rage to resignation in three seconds.
“On your knees! Hands behind your head!”
He complies. Slowly. An officer moves in with handcuffs.
I walk into the kitchen, badge visible. “Ryan Williams, you’re under arrest for attempted arson and three counts of arson in the first degree.”
“I want a lawyer.” His voice is flat.
“You’ll get one. But first—” I crouch down so we’re eye level. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights?”
“I want a lawyer,” he repeats.
“That’s fine. Take him.” I stand up as officers haul Ryan to his feet and start walking him out.
Phoebe appears beside me, looking at the gas can and accelerant on the floor. “Same brand as all three fires. We’ve got him.”
“Yeah.” I watch Ryan being led to the patrol car outside. “We do.”
Chapter twenty-eight
Chapter 28
Rachel
My phone keeps buzzing with news alerts.
Breaking: arrest made in Millbrook Falls arson case.
Grandson arrested for targeting elderly woman in fire spree.
Ryan Williams, 30, Caught Attempting Fourth Arson.
I’m sitting on the couch, refreshing the local news website every thirty seconds, watching the story unfold in real time. There’s video footage of Ryan being walked to a police car in handcuffs.He’s not fighting. Just staring straight ahead with this blank expression, like he can’t believe he got caught.
Dorothy’s house—well, her niece’s house—is lit up in the background with police lights and crime scene tape. Investigators moving in and out.
And I’m here. Safe. Fifteen miles away. Watching it all happen on a screen.
Marco told me to stay home. Said there was no reason for me to be there, that I’d already been through enough trauma without adding “watching your friend’s grandson get arrested” to the list.
He was right. Even seeing the footage online makes my chest tight.
But I can’t stop watching.
Tommy’s asleep upstairs. Cole and Theo are still at the station.
