The door opened.
A hospital orderly stood there with a clipboard tucked beneath one arm.
"Mr. Tyler?"
Tyler didn't answer immediately.
The man glanced between us.
"Sorry. I was told to bring this up."
He held out a clear plastic bag.
Inside was a small wallet.
Tyler's wallet.
I looked at him.
"You left that at the station?"
He frowned.
"No."
The orderly checked his clipboard.
"It was found with your belongings from the warehouse."
Tyler slowly reached for it.
"Who gave this to you?"
"A firefighter downstairs."
"Which one?"
The orderly looked at the paperwork.
"Grant, I think."
He handed over the bag and left.
The door clicked shut.
Tyler stared at the wallet through the plastic.
"What's wrong?"
"I had this on me."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"My wallet."
He opened the bag carefully.
The wallet was scorched along one edge.
Several cards were still inside.
His driver's license.
His department identification.
A photograph of us taken at the beach three summers earlier.
Then Tyler noticed something.
"That's not right."
"What?"
He removed the wallet from the bag.
The driver's license was there.
The department ID was there.
But the small folded photograph was missing.
"The picture."
I looked at the empty compartment.
"Maybe it fell out."
"It was behind my license."
"Maybe it burned."
"No."
He was certain.
"Why?"
"Because the photograph wasn't there when I entered the building."
I stared at him.
"You remember that?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Tyler rubbed his temple.
"Because I took my wallet out to show someone my ID."
"Who?"
He went silent.
"Tyler."
"I don't remember."
The answer disturbed me.
Not because of the concussion.
Because I could see him trying to force the memory into place.
"Don't push yourself."
"I'm not."
"You are."
He looked at the wallet again.
"Someone had my wallet before the fire."
The room seemed suddenly smaller.
I sat beside him.
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Was it at the station?"
"Maybe."
"Could someone have taken it?"
"Maybe."
"Could they have put it back?"
He looked at me.
"That's the part I don't understand."
A knock came again.
This time, Captain Reyes entered.
He stopped when he saw the wallet.
"Where did you get that?"
"The orderly brought it."
Reyes's expression hardened.
"Who sent him?"
"Grant."
Reyes reached for the wallet.
Tyler handed it over.
The captain examined the scorch marks.
Then he looked at me.
"Did you open it?"
"No."
"Good."
That answer made me uneasy.
"Why?"
"Because investigators are collecting anything recovered from the scene."
Reyes pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket.
He put them on before touching the wallet again.
"Tyler, where was this when you entered the warehouse?"
"In my pocket."
"Which pocket?"
"Right."
"Was anyone close enough to reach it?"
Tyler thought.
"One of the workers."
"Which worker?"
"I don't know."
"What did he look like?"
"Dark jacket."
Reyes stopped.
"Red?"
Tyler's eyes sharpened.
"Maybe."
I felt my pulse climb.
Reyes carefully placed the wallet back into the bag.
"Tell me everything you remember about that man."
Tyler closed his eyes.
"He was near the loading entrance."
"Doing what?"
"Arguing with someone."
"Who?"
"I couldn't hear."
"Did you see his face?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Smoke hadn't gotten that far yet. I was moving toward the main entrance."
Reyes nodded.
"And then?"
"I heard the alarm."
"Then?"
"I saw the man leave."
"Which direction?"
Tyler opened his eyes.
"Toward the west stairwell."
Nobody spoke.
Reyes looked at me.
I knew what he was thinking.
The same thing I was.
The helmet had been found there.
The red fabric had been caught in it.
The warning message had arrived before the fire.
And now Tyler's missing photograph had somehow disappeared from a wallet recovered at the scene.
"Captain," I said, "what was on that photograph?"
Reyes looked at Tyler.
"Amanda."
Tyler answered quietly.
"Us."
"Just the two of you?"
"Yes."
I looked at the empty compartment.
"Why would anyone want that?"
"I don't know," Reyes said.
Then Tyler suddenly sat straighter.
"Wait."
We both looked at him.
"The picture."
"What?"
"It wasn't just a picture."
He looked frustrated.
"There was something written on the back."
My heart began beating faster.
"What?"
"I don't remember."
Reyes's eyes narrowed.
"Who wrote it?"
Tyler looked at me.
"Amanda did."
I stared at him.
"I don't remember writing anything."
"You did."
"When?"
"The night we moved into our house."
I searched my memory.
Nothing.
Tyler continued.
"You wrote our new address on the back because you said you were afraid we'd forget where home was after moving."
I gave a small laugh.
"I remember that."
"Then why would someone take it?"
Neither of us had an answer.
Reyes's phone rang.
He stepped into the hallway.
Tyler watched him leave.
Then he looked at me.
"I need you to do something."
"What?"
"Go home."
I stared at him.
"No."
"Amanda."
"No."
"You shouldn't be alone here."
"I'm not alone."
"That's not what I mean."
"I know."
He sighed.
"I don't want you getting involved."
I leaned closer.
"Too late."
His eyes met mine.
"You got a message."
"Yes."
"Someone knows you're connected to me."
"Yes."
"That makes you a target."
"So does being married to a firefighter who runs into burning buildings."
He didn't smile.
I touched his hand.
"I'm not leaving you."
He looked down at our fingers.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
Reyes returned.
His face had changed.
"What happened?" I asked.
He closed the door.
"Investigators found another phone."
Tyler frowned.
"Where?"
"Near the west stairwell."
"Was it mine?"
"No."
"Whose?"
"We don't know."
Reyes looked at me.
"But there's something on it you need to hear."
He took out his own phone.
"I shouldn't play this here."
"Why?"
"Because we don't know who recorded it."
Tyler looked at me.
"Play it."
Reyes hesitated.
Then he pressed the screen.
Static filled the room.
Then a man's voice.
Faint.
Distorted.
But understandable.
"Don't let the firefighter reach the second floor."
Tyler went completely still.
The recording continued.
"He can't know she's there."
Then came a second voice.
A woman's.
"Too late."
The recording ended.
Nobody moved.
I looked at Tyler.
His face had gone pale.
"That's the warehouse."
Reyes nodded.
"Yes."
"Who were they?"
"We don't know."
"Did they know I was going inside?"
Tyler asked.
Reyes looked at him.
"That's what worries me."
The captain placed his phone on the table.
"The recording was made before your crew entered."
I felt the room tilt.
Someone had known.
Someone had expected Tyler to enter.
And someone had known there was a child upstairs.
Then my phone vibrated.
All three of us looked at it.
Another message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
This time there were only five words.
*He was never the target.**
I stared at the screen.
Tyler read it over my shoulder.
Reyes's face hardened.
"Don't respond."
"I wasn't going to."
Tyler looked at him.
"Then who was?"
Reyes didn't answer.
Because none of us knew.
And that was worse than having a name.
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: The Message Said Tyler Wasn’t the Target, and the Investigation Took a Turn When We Learned Why the Little Girl Had Been Inside
I Arrived With Balloons and Cake, Expecting My Husband to Laugh—Instead His Entire Crew Went Silent When They Saw Me
Part 5 of 40
