“I’ll get started on the photos,” Detective Hoyt says, walking toward the back of the building.
“I just heard from the station.” Ruiz holds up a tablet and shows us an enhanced version of Justin’s footage. “His face is clear enough for facial recognition. We’re running it through databases now.”
“That’s amazing,” I say. “So much more detail in this.”
I feel a weight lift—not gone, but shifting. Like maybe I can breathe again.
“When you find him,” I ask quietly, “what happens next?”
“Arson is a felony,” Ruiz says. “For the person who starts the fire, and anyone involved in it.”
Dahlia goes pale.
Ruiz softens her tone. “We know this is a lot. We’re going to handle it. But we’ll need statements from all of you.”
We sit at the makeshift folding table Rudy sets up outside and stare at the building.
Detective Ruiz asks questions in rapid-fire.
Where I was. Who had keys. Whether we’d had threats before. Whether I’d noticed suspicious cars. If I’d ever seen this man.
And then she turns to Dahlia and is just as thorough with her, if not more.
Who Dahlia is to me. If she has anything to do with the shop. The guy in question…what does she remember about the time he was in the office…and why would he be all the way in California setting fire to a surf shop?
“My father threatened Dylan yesterday morning. There’s a long history between our two families. It began with our grandfathers.” Dahlia points between the two of us with her free hand. She’s gripping mine tight with the other one. “And when my father found out that I was seeing Dylan, he drove a couple hours to Dylan’s place of work in Windy Harbor, Minnesota, under the guise of being a guest at Dylan’s family resort. Dylan does fishing excursions…among other things…and my dad showed up on the boat and threatened him once they were out on the water.”
“When you say ‘threatened,’ what do you mean?” Detective Ruiz asks Dahlia, and when Dahlia doesn’t answer right away, she looks at me. “Dylan, can you tell me what happened?”
I relay the story, wishing that this were anyone but Dahlia’s dad that we were talking about.
She squeezes my hand under the table with every mention of him.
She also tells them about Christian and the phone call from him yesterday, and I get the impression that they’ll be questioning him after this.
Chloe plays with the bag of toys Dahlia brought for her, taking them out and dragging them through the sand.
The questioning feels endless, but we finally get through it. Or at least this round—it sounds like they could have more questions at any point.
By now, Detective Hoyt has finished taking pictures and stands near Detective Ruiz’s chair. Ruiz smiles across the table and stands.
“We’ll be in touch,” she says. “Don’t leave the area without notifying us.”
They walk away, murmuring to each other, and then it’s quiet for a few moments.
“Holy shit,” Rudy says finally, his shoulders drooping when he looks at us. “This is a lot to take in.”
Dahlia nods. “I’m sorry.”
I look at her, about to tell her she doesn’t need to apologize anymore. But she stands.
“Come on, baby girl. Let’s go by the water,” she tells Chloe. And then she looks at me. “I need to call my father.”
“Are you sure you want to do that?” I ask.
She nods.
“Can I come with you?”
