“What?”
“The storage room door was propped open around two o’clock. We never leave it open—fire code violation. I closed it myself and made a mental note to ask who’d been back there.”
I write that down. “Who has access to that room?”
“All staff members. We keep supplies back there, along with damaged books waiting to be processed.” She wraps her arms around herself. “Do you think someone did this on purpose?”
“I can’t say yet. But thank you for the information.” I hand her my card. “If you remember anything else, call me.”
I work through the crowd methodically—library staff, regular patrons, and people who were browsing when the alarm went off. Most of them have similar stories—smelled smoke, heard the alarm, evacuated quickly.
Nobody saw anything suspicious. Nobody noticed anything unusual before the fire started.
Except for one elderly man who mentions seeing someone in a dark jacket near the east entrance around two-thirty. Can’t give me more details than that. Too far away, didn’t get a good look.
I’m interviewing a teenager who was studying in the reference section when I saw Rachel again.
She’s still with the paramedic, but now Tommy’s sitting on the back of the ambulance with an oxygen mask. She’s holding his hand, her face pale and tight.
I can’t stop myself from walking over.
The paramedic sees me coming. “She’s fine. Minor smoke inhalation, nothing serious. The kid, too.”
“Thanks.” I look at Rachel. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
She nods, squeezing Tommy’s hand before stepping away from the ambulance.
We move a few feet away, out of earshot. Up close, I can see she’s shaking—her hands, her shoulders, everything about her vibrating with panic.
“Are you okay?” I ask, and the question comes out softer than I intended.
“I’m fine.” Her voice is steady, but her eyes tell a different story. “Tommy’s fine. We got out.”
“Rachel—”
“I know what you’re going to ask. Why was I here? What are the odds? How is it possible that I’m at two fires in such a short span?” She laughs. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything.”
“Aren’t you?” She meets my eyes. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks bad. A woman was at two separate fires. The internet’s probably already calling me a jinx. Now you show up with your notebook and your questions, and I’m supposed to believe you’re just checking on my well-being?”
“I am checking on your well-being. But I also need to know what you saw.”
She looks back at Tommy, who’s talking to the paramedic about his dragon book. “We came to get his book. He left it here last week. We found it, and we were leaving when I smelled smoke.”
“Where exactly were you when you smelled it?”
“Biography section. Near the back.” She wraps her arms around herself. “The smoke was coming from a door marked ‘Staff Only.’ Then the alarm went off.”
“Did you see anyone near that door? Anyone acting suspicious?”
“No. The library was almost empty. Just a few people browsing.” She pauses. “Dorothy was supposed to be here.”
That stops me. “Dorothy Williams?”
“She volunteers in the children’s section. Reads to kids on Tuesday afternoons.” Rachel’s voice cracks slightly. “She told me about it on Sunday. Said she’d be here today. But I didn’t see her in the crowd.”
I scan the lawn again. No elderly woman with a cane. No Dorothy.
