I walked out into the rain, climbed into my truck, and took a five-gallon container of highly flammable gasoline.
By 4:00 PM, I was concealed near the Harrington family’s immaculate front porch.Gasoline had soaked into their expensive welcome mat.
The fumes burned my lungs.
A lit match trembled between my fingers, just one second away from turning their carefully polished world into ash.
Then my phone suddenly vibrated violently with a breaking alert from the hospital…
The screen lit up through the cold rain:
ST. JUDE ICU: CODE BLUE – ROOM 412.
The match flickered between my fingers, sizzling as a heavy drop of rain struck the sulfur head.For one terrible second, every instinct urged me to drop the flame, to let the porch ignite, to watch the French-carved mahogany doors blacken and collapse while Garrett and Evelyn choked inside their fortress.
Instead, I pinched the flame dead against my callous.
