Neither family knew anything about my security footage.

They were simply living in the town whose past was being examined.

I wanted the investigation to serve those ordinary lives, not merely complete the story that had begun at my window.

ADDITIONAL CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: THE OLD FIRE REPORT

Calder permitted Frances to review a redacted copy of Martin Keene’s original fire report once the appropriate records office released it.

The report described the building, the alarm response, and the limits of what investigators had been able to determine.

It did not contain the confession that several anonymous commentators insisted must exist.

Frances asked a retired fire investigator, Walter Penn, to explain the technical language.

He warned her that the condition of a damaged building could support several possibilities without proving one of them.

The report listed electrical damage and extensive loss of physical evidence, but its conclusions remained limited.

Walter remembered that the case drew public attention because Martin had been arguing with former employers.

He also remembered colleagues resisting pressure to declare the fire suspicious before their work was complete.

I felt foolish remembering how quickly I had once interpreted every unfinished fact as a concealed answer.

Frances wrote an article about the limits of the report, and the response online was predictably angry.

Some readers wanted her to name Arthur Vale as responsible.

Others demanded that she declare the old fire a harmless accident.

She did neither.

Owen called me after the article appeared.

He said he had grown up hearing his father’s version of the story, in which Martin had been reckless and unreliable.

Now Owen understood that an opinion repeated at dinner was not a substitute for a professional finding.

I asked how he was handling the possibility that his family had misunderstood the past.

He said he was still sorting his memories, especially the night Margaret accused his father of taking an envelope.

He had told Calder what he remembered without trying to turn his childhood impression into evidence of a crime.

We sat in silence on the telephone for several seconds.

Owen then asked whether the old drawing was still in the basement.

I promised it was safe.

He said he was grateful that somebody could care for the objects Margaret loved without making claims about every mystery she left behind.

ADDITIONAL CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: THE PRIVATE PHOTOGRAPH

Leah brought me a photograph she found among her mother’s old holiday cards.

It showed Iris, Margaret, and a young woman standing beside the kitchen door.