I worked the line, moved through the house, did my job. Training taking over where my mind kept trying to wander. Stay focused. Stay present. The fire doesn't care about your problems.
We knocked it down by 2:45. Overhaul swallowed the next hour—ripping out the ceiling, checking for hotspots in the walls, making sure nothing was still smoldering in the places wecouldn't see. When I finally surfaced long enough to check my phone, it was 3:42.
Twelve minutes late for pickup.
I called Liam on the way. He was supposed to be the backup today, but the call went to voicemail. Probably in the barn, out of range. I pushed the speed limit the whole way there, guilt gnawing at my chest. Mia hated it when I was late. It made her anxious, made her think I wasn't coming back.
The pickup line was empty when I pulled in. Just a few staff members chatting by the door, the last stragglers heading to their cars.
No Mia.
I parked crooked and walked fast, scanning the sidewalk. The benches. The playground.
Nothing.
The front office was bright. Calm. Too calm. A woman I didn’t recognize sat behind the desk, typing.
“I’m here for Mia Santos,” I said. “I’m a few minutes late?—”
“Oh, Mia was picked up already.” She smiled, glancing at her screen. “Just a few minutes ago. Her father came to get her.”
The floor dropped out from under me.
“Her father?”
“Yes. He signed her out. She went with him.” Her smile wavered. “Is… is there a problem?”
“Mia doesn’t have a father.”
My voice didn’t sound like mine.
“Her father isn’t on the pickup list. No one is on the pickup list except me and my husband.”
Color drained from her face.
She pulled up the security footage. I stood beside her, close enough to see the grain.
Todd walked in.
Smiling. Relaxed. Wearing the same easy mask he’d worn for years—the one that fooled teachers and neighbors and my mother until it was too late.
Mia stood at her locker, backpack half-zipped. Unprepared.
Todd approached.
Her body went rigid. Her shoulders lifted. Guarded.
Then he leaned down.
Said something.
Mia’s face collapsed into panic.
She grabbed her backpack and followed him. Too fast. Almost running.
“Can you rewind that?”
My voice was steady. Calm. The one I used on calls when everything was burning and someone had to stay clear.
