Sitting on the curb, July’s arm hangs across Evan’s shoulders, whose head is down, his knees pulled to his chest, crying into his forearm. He’s got the structure of a man now, tall with gangly limbs, but he hasn’t filled out yet. He still has a youthful face with spots of acne near the dark curls of his hairline. I can’t help but be buoyed by the way they’re supporting each other. All of July’s study notes are inside, and Evan’s gaming set-up. They’ve both lost a lot.

The officer places the sheet of paper with the image in a ziplock bag and writes on the label with a sharpie.

‘There was one other thing,’ I add, before I sign the statement she has written out for me. ‘I felt like someone followed me home from work today. A white Toyota, but, I don’t know … maybe I was imagining things.’

‘Any plates?’

‘No, like I said, I didn’t think much of it.’

‘Model?’

‘It looked like a Camry I guess, it was a sedan. Newish.’

‘See the driver?’

‘No,’ I say. ‘No, sorry, it’s probably a coincidence.’ I can see her chew the inside of her cheeks, a slight pout.

‘It is likely a coincidence, yes,’ she says. ‘But if this is arson, I’m going to need you to try remembering more details, other things you might have noticed.’

Before we leave, another cop arrives at the scene. A rugby build, balding with an island of clipped blond hair running down the middle of his head. He introduces himself.

‘Detective Simms,’ he says. A big man with a surprisingly small voice, the voice of a wind instrument. ‘Don’t worry we will get to the bottom of this.’

•

The hotel is nice. Closer to the office than our home. Close enough that I could probably walk. I have some work clothes I keep at the office, and thankfully had a change of clothes in my car, but not enough to last more than a few days. We get a two-bedroom suite on level twelve of the Ramada Inn. The kids are sharing a double. Considering they’re both teenagers, it’s a little awkward, but this is the only room so close we could find on such short notice.

Gabe is onto the insurance company, I can hear his bare feet striding a worried track in the old hallway carpet outside the door. His murmurings are soft, so as not to wake other guests but still firm and anxious. He’s trying to find out what our policy covers before we go spending too much money on accommodation, new clothes, provisions.

He falls silent in the hall and his footsteps come closer. The door opens and he silently walks inside.