She stared at the timeline she’d drawn on her paper.

One of those articles quoted a fireman as saying “this guy has a hero complex.” That the arsonist was setting fires just so he could go in and save the victims.

That didn’t match Gabriel at all.

Or did it? Had he done that exact thing this morning?

She remembered her question from the hillside. Did you hurt someone?

And the haunted look in his eyes. No. Just the opposite.

That seemed to point in both directions.

Her head hurt.

A knock sounded at her door, and Layne turned off the monitor before her father could see what she was looking at.

He leaned into her room, looking frustrated. “What time is Simon supposed to be home?”

She glanced at the clock. It was after four. “His first game is today. The activities bus drops us off around five-thirty.”

“His first game?”

“Yeah. His first basketball game.” She folded her arms on the back of her chair. “Though he’s probably not playing.”

“He was serious about that whole basketball thing?”

“Yeah, Dad.” Layne stared at him, feeling sorry for him and wondering if he deserved it. She’d never sided with her mother, but maybe the woman was right about him working too much. He and Simon never talked, and she’d always thought it was because Simon resented his father.

She’d never really thought about her father making no effort to remedy the situation.

He came into the room and dropped onto the end of her bed. “Are you going to be all right?”

Layne thought about her scars disappearing. “Yes. I always am.”

“I’m sorry if I seemed insensitive this morning. After hearing you were in a fire . . . after everything we went through when you were little . . .” He ran a hand through his hair, and now she could hear the emotion in his voice. “And then with your mother . . . It was . . . a lot.”

Layne went and sat next to him. “It’s okay.”

“I never liked you going to that barn by yourself, but I always worried about you taking a fall—”

“Dad. It’s fine.”

He put an arm around her and kissed her on the top of the head. “I know it’s not perfect right now. But I’m trying.”

“I know.” And she did. He was trying to keep doing what he’d always done—working himself too hard, forgetting to eat, leaving it to someone else to keep dinner on the table and the family in order.

At one time it had been her mother.

Now it was Layne.

“Want to go watch Simon sit on the bench?” she said.

He kissed her on the head again, giving her another squeeze. For a moment, she actually thought he might say yes.

But he stood. “I hate to leave you alone, but I need to head in to the office. My afternoon appointments were rescheduled for this evening, so . . .”