Divorced, Yet He Can't Let Me Go novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The Marshal

Georgina tells the fire marshal what she saw and Winslow says smoke confused her, in front of everyone.

The fire marshal's office was a low brick building behind Engine Four's station, and I walked in with June in a carrier on my chest.

A woman at the front desk took my name and told me to wait.

Six other people sat on plastic chairs along the wall holding folders and coffee.

I did not have a folder.

I had my own eyes and a burn dressing on my arm.

After twenty minutes the marshal came out and shook my hand.

She was a broad, tired woman with reading glasses pushed up into grey hair.

"Mrs. Wentworth. I'm sorry for what happened to your home."

"Thank you for seeing me."

"The report's already filed, you understand."

"I know. That's why I'm here. It's wrong."

She took me into a small room and shut the door.

I told her all of it.

I told her about the smoke alarm and the stairs and the line of fire on the carpet.

I told her about the red can on the floor by Lorna's feet.

I told her Lorna was holding a lighter, and that she watched me for as long as it took Winslow to cross the hall.

The marshal wrote steadily.

When I finished she tapped her pen on the page.

"The lighter. Can you describe it?"

"Silver. It had initials on the side. D.W."

"Daniel Wentworth."

"Winslow's brother. He died eighteen months ago. Lorna carries it everywhere."

The marshal's pen stopped.

"We didn't recover a lighter, Mrs. Wentworth. And the report doesn't list a gas can in the hall."

"It was there."

"I have a statement from your husband that the fire started at the kitchen stove."

"The kitchen is at the back of the house. I was upstairs looking at the front hall."

"You were also treated for severe smoke inhalation."

"I was awake."

The door opened.

The woman from the desk leaned in. "Marshal, I'm sorry. Mr. Wentworth is here to sign the amended paperwork. And his sister-in-law."

My stomach dropped.

"Show them to the waiting room," the marshal said. "Give me a minute."

But I was already on my feet.

I walked out into the waiting room with the marshal behind me.

Winslow stood by the window in the dark coat with his bandaged hands at his sides.

Lorna sat in the chair nearest him, in a cream cardigan with her hair in a neat bun.

She looked like she had been to church.

When she saw me she covered her mouth.

"Georgina. Oh, Georgina. Thank God you're all right."

Six strangers turned to look.

"You were in the hall," I said. "You had a gas can and Daniel's lighter. You lit the carpet and you watched me."

Lorna's eyes filled.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Georgina," Winslow said.

"Tell them where you were standing."

"I was in the kitchen making tea," Lorna said. "I couldn't sleep. I smelled smoke and I ran. Winslow found me."

"You were not in the kitchen."

"That's enough," Winslow said, and he stepped between us.

He said it to the room, not to me.

"My wife nearly died this week. She breathed in a lot of smoke and she's still on painkillers. She's confused."

"I'm taking Tylenol," I said.

"She's also deaf in her left ear, which makes it worse in a crisis. She can't tell where sounds are coming from."

"I saw her, Winslow! I didn't hear her. I saw her."

A man in the front row looked at the floor.

A woman beside him quietly pulled her purse onto her lap.

Everyone in that room had decided something about me, and it was the thing my husband wanted.

Lorna reached out one hand and touched my sleeve.

"I'd never hurt you," she whispered. "I love you like a sister."

I looked at her fingers.

They were clean, and they were shaking just a little.

I took my sleeve back.

"Say it again when a judge is listening," I told her.

Then I turned and walked out with my daughter and the six strangers watching.

I got as far as the parking lot before my legs started shaking.

I put one hand on a stranger's hood and breathed.

June patted my chin, confused.

The door behind me opened and closed.

"Mrs. Wentworth."

The marshal had followed me out, with her glasses in her hand.

She glanced at the building and lowered her voice.

"I shouldn't say this."

"Please."

"The first engine on scene shoots a photo set before anyone enters. It's standard. I have no photo of your hall in my file."

"Why not?"

"That's what I'd like to know." She slid her glasses on. "The captain who ran that engine is on shift at the station next door. I'd ask him what he saw before the paperwork got amended."

"Who amended it?"

She looked at me a long moment.

"The homeowner's lawyer filed the request the morning after the fire," she said. "That's all I can tell you."

She went back inside.

I stood in the parking lot, and I looked at the station next door with its big red doors rolled up.

Behind me, through the glass, I could see Winslow watching me.

He did not look away first.

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