What Happened to the Bennetts(32)

Special Agent Volkov said, “Dom will keep you apprised.”

“Good, and I really think you should get a message to my wife’s best friend Melissa. You have to give her an explanation.”

“It’s not procedure.”

“You’re making a mistake. Like I told Dom, we’re a family, we have friends, and you have to deal with that.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

I tried to collect my thoughts. “Do you think Milo’s leaving has to do with our house fire and my office?”

“We don’t believe he set either fire, if that’s what you’re asking. You have my apologies. We did not anticipate they would do that.”

You should have, I thought but didn’t say, like Lucinda would have. “Do you know who set the fire?”

“Not at this juncture.”

“It has to be someone who works with Milo and Big George, right?”

“We have reason to believe it’s someone within GVO.”

“Who? What are their names?”

“I can’t divulge that.”

I wanted to ask him if it was the BMW driver, but I didn’t want to get Dom in trouble, since he had shown us the video he wasn’t supposed to. I knew that Special Agent Volkov wouldn’t have confirmed or denied anything anyway. “How’s our house, have you seen it?”

“Not personally.”

“I assume the fire is out?”

“I understand it is, as of early this morning.”

“How much damage was done?”

“I’m told it will have to be torn down.”

I felt a deep pang. “Do you have agents there now?”

“Yes. We’re salvaging the contents.”

“Then I have a request, from my son. There were some things in his room, small cedar boxes with the cremains of pets. Obviously it’s not about the pets.”

“Dom mentioned your son’s issues to me.”

I glanced at Dom. My son’s issues were now known to the FBI. Suddenly I understood what had bothered Lucinda. “If you have an agent on the scene, can I speak with him?”

“Yes. I’ll tell him who to call.”



* * *



—

It turned out that one Special Agent Devi Gupta was at the house, and she FaceTimed me on Dom’s phone so I could see for myself. The sight broke my heart, and my only consolation was that Lucinda was spared. Anything she could imagine wasn’t as bad as it was. Seeing it made it real, and reality was awful.

Our house was charred and smoldering. The support beams were still standing, but the living room and family room were mostly gone. I could see clear to the fireplace in the family room, its bricks blackened. The blaze had ravaged the fa?ade on the second floor, marring its white clapboard with smudges that streaked upward from the windows. The roof was open in ragged patches. Grayish smoke drifted upward, hazing the sky.

Firefighters were dragging hoses back to trucks, and workmen in boots were raking debris and carrying Hefty bags to a blue dumpster in the driveway. Shingles and burned wood lay strewn all over the lawn, deeply rutted and churned up with footprints, full of standing water. Lucinda’s rosebushes were smashed and broken. I had mulched the beds after she put in some bulbs a week ago, staining my hands brown.

I cleared my throat. “How bad does it look inside?”

“I don’t know,” Special Agent Gupta answered, her tone sympathetic. “Only firefighters are permitted in, given the structural damage.”

“Can you look for the contents of a room on the second floor, the bedroom on the end of the hall? That’s my son’s. I’m looking for some little cedar boxes.”

“Hold on, let me see.”

Special Agent Gupta crossed the ruined lawn toward a pile of debris, as the phone screen jolted along. She passed a drenched pile of my old law hornbooks; Torts and Contracts, the green covers now black. Then our family-room television, charred, found randomly among drinking glasses. A stack of dishes, a pile of Lucinda’s handbags. The detritus of our family.

Special Agent Gupta muted the call, and I waited. After a few minutes, she came back on, then we jolted along again. “Sir, items from your son’s room are in a row ahead. We’ll give a look and see if the boxes are here, okay?”

“Thank you,” I said, and onto the phone screen came Ethan’s Rubik’s Cube collection, their unnaturally bright colors standing out on the muddy lawn. Then there was a pile of sneakers and clothes.

Special Agent Gupta kept scanning the row, and among a slew of old videogames I spotted the two cedar boxes.

“Those!” My heart lifted. “That’s them.”

“Great.” Special Agent Gupta picked up the two cedar boxes, showing them to the camera.

“I really appreciate that. That’s very kind of you.” My throat caught, my emotions raw. I felt like a wreck, like I was the burned-out house, a shell without structure, unable to bear weight.

“So, mission accomplished?”

“Yes, and if you see any of our family photographs, that would make my wife so happy. She’s a photographer.”

“I did see some.”

“If you could box them with the cedar chests, could you send them here?”