“Dorothy.” I sit in the armchair across from her. Phoebe takes the other chair, tablet already open.
"Marco. Phoebe." Dorothy sets her mug down. "Rachel called me last night. Said you've got a big lead on the case."
"We do," I say carefully. "But before we discuss it, I need to ask—are you comfortable having your niece present for this conversation? What we need to tell you is sensitive."
Dorothy reaches for her niece's hand. "Miranda stays. I trust her completely."
Miranda nods, squeezing her aunt's hand. "Whatever you need to tell her, I'm here to support her."
"Dorothy, the lead we have points to someone close to you. Someone who had access to your schedule, knew your routines, knew when you'd be at specific locations."
Her face doesn't change, but her grip on Miranda's hand tightens. "Who?"
"Ryan."
The name hangs in the air like smoke.
Dorothy goes very still. "My grandson."
"Yes, ma'am."
"No." She shakes her head, immediately and firmly. "Not Ryan. He's—he wouldn't—"
"Aunt Dorothy." Miranda's voice is gentle but not coddling. "You need to hear them out."
"He's irresponsible, I know that. He's made poor choices. But setting fires? Trying to hurt me?" Dorothy's voice rises slightly. "That's—that's attempted murder."
"I know this is difficult—" I start.
"Ryan has always been trouble," Miranda interrupts, looking at her aunt directly. "Ever since he was a teenager. Remember when he forged your signature on that loan application?"
"That was years ago. He was young—"
"He's thirty now, and he's still making the same choices." Miranda's tone is firm but loving. "Aunt Dorothy, I love Ryan too. He is my cousin. But I wouldn't put this past him. I really wouldn't."
Dorothy's face crumples slightly. "But why? Why would he want to hurt me?"
I pull out the file Phoebe compiled. “Your grandson has gambling debts totaling over fifty thousand dollars. He’s been fired from three jobs in the past year. His landlord started eviction proceedings last month.”
“And you’re worth just over two hundred thousand,” Phoebe adds gently. “Between your house, savings, and life insurance policy.”
Dorothy’s face crumples. “You think he’s trying to kill me for money.”
“Yes.” No point softening it. “All three fires were at locations you frequent. Locations Ryan knows you visit regularly. He was counting on you being there.”
“But I wasn’t. Not at the café. Not at the library.”
“No. You left early both times. That’s the only reason you’re still alive.” I lean forward. “Dorothy, we need your help to catch him. Before he tries again.”
She presses a tissue to her eyes. “He is my grandson. I raised him. How could he—”
“Desperation makes people do terrible things,” Phoebe says. “And Ryan’s desperate.”
“What do you need from me?” Dorothy’s voice is steady despite the tears.
“We need you to make an announcement. At church this Sunday.” I explain the plan carefully. “You’ll say that after surviving the fire, you’ve decided to leave your entire estate to charity. That you’re changing your will this week.”
“You want to provoke him.”
