After another hour, the fire is finally out, and everyone disperses.

“Show’s over, folks,” one of the firemen says.

A man approaches and flashes his badge, introducing himself as the detective who’ll be overseeing this case. “Do you know what started the fire?” she asks.

“Without a proper investigation, I can only speculate from what we’ve observed so far. It looked like the back door was broken into, and the fire was started there. Typically, windows will break from the high heat, but the door was wide open, feeding the fire. Since it’s past closing hours, I thought it was odd.”

“That is strange. My closer said she locked up before leaving.”

“You have cameras inside the shop, but do you have any in the back rooms?”

“Not where the door is shown. Just where my inventory is stored. There’s a major blind spot for the security camera back there.” I can see the wheels spinning in Everleigh’s mind, and different scenarios flood through mine too.

“Does anyone else know that?” he asks.

Now that Natasha has been arrested, I can’t think of anyone who would want to harm her other than Krystal. The thought makes me sick to my fucking stomach. But I find it almost impossible that she’d know something like that about Everleigh’s shop.

“The only people who would know that are my employees, if they were paying attention,” Everleigh states.

“We’ll be getting all the security footage from the company, but if you think of any other information that could help, here’s my number.” He hands her a business card. “And here’s the case number for the incident report. You’ll need to give it to your insurance company. If we find out anything else, I’ll reach out to you.” Everleigh gives him her number, and we thank him before he leaves.

When we walk toward the car, Officer Proctor stops us. I’ve seen this man too many times in the past year, and after tonight, I hope to never run into him again. When I do, it’s not for good reasons.

“You’ve not had the best luck lately.” He frowns, holding his keys in his hands.

She lets out an exhausted laugh. “I know. It seems like every two or three months, something dramatic happens. First, I get stabbed. Then I nearly get run over by Natasha. And now my shop gets broken into and goes up in flames. What else could possibly happen?”

He offers a kind smile. “That is a lot. Hopefully, things will start lookin’ up for you.”

“It better,” she says, groaning.

Once we’re back in the car, she leans her head against the seat and closes her eyes. “This is a fucking nightmare.”

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” It’s all I can offer, wishing I could fix it all and make everything better for her.