Then I remembered something.
“Wait.”
Everyone looked at me.
“Three months ago, Caroline asked me whether Alex had ever kept old photographs.”
Alex froze.
“What exactly did she say?”
“We were having lunch. She asked what I'd kept from the marriage. Pictures, paperwork, souvenirs.”
“And?”
“I told her I threw everything out years ago.”
“Did you?”
I hesitated.
“No.”
Alex stood.
“Where?”
“My storage unit.”
Maya swore.
We left within four minutes.
The storage facility was burning when we arrived.
Black smoke poured into the night sky.
Fire engines blocked the road.
My unit was on the third floor.
Gone.
Everything.
Photographs.
Sophie's childhood drawings.
Old furniture.
Boxes from my marriage.
Alex watched the flames.
“They're cleaning up.”
Maya shook her head.
“No. They're searching.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“If Caroline thought Evelyn had something, she wouldn't burn it before looking.”
Alex nodded.
“So somebody searched it first.”
A firefighter confirmed later that my lock had been cut before the fire started.
