We said goodbye, and he walked away.
The next morning, loud pounding rattled the front door.
Still half asleep, I came downstairs and froze instantly.
My mom had opened the door, and standing there were police officers.
Beside them stood Caleb’s parents.
Everyone turned toward me.
A knot tightened in my stomach.
One officer stepped forward. “Cindy, when was the last time you saw Caleb?”
“Last night after prom.”
“Did he mention where he was going afterward?”
I slowly shook my head. “No. Why? Officer, did something happen?”
The officers exchanged uneasy looks.
Then one of them asked something that made my stomach sink even further.
“Miss, do you really not know what Caleb has done?”
I stared at him blankly. “What?”
The officer spoke carefully.
“Our department recently reopened several old reports connected to incidents from years ago to get resolutions. During that process, Caleb admitted he was near your house the night of the fire almost 10 years ago.”
For several seconds, I couldn’t even process the words.
“What do you mean he was there?”
The officer inhaled slowly.
“You need to listen carefully and try not to get overwhelmed. Caleb witnessed something connected to your house fire when he was nine years old.”
I stared at him.
“What kind of something?”
Before the officer could continue, Caleb’s father suddenly spoke.
“He never meant for any of this to happen.”
His voice sounded desperate and strained.
The officer explained that Caleb’s older brother, Mason, had a long history of trouble as a teenager. On the night of the fire, Caleb secretly followed Mason on his bike and saw him climbing out of my house shortly before the fire began.
Recently, Caleb had finally confessed part of what he witnessed because Mason was about to be released after serving time for another crime.
But that morning, Caleb had disappeared.
He wasn’t answering calls, and his truck was gone.
After hearing from another parent that Caleb spent prom night with me, his parents hoped maybe I knew where he was.
I told them I didn’t.
Technically, that was true. But after they left, I kept thinking about the abandoned buildings near the edge of town where Caleb and the football players always hung out whenever they wanted privacy.
So I lied to my mother and told her I needed fresh air.
Then I grabbed my backpack and headed for the bus stop.
Because for the first time since the fire, I felt like the truth was finally within reach.
And I needed to hear it from Caleb himself.
The bus dropped me off three blocks away from the old factory site. Years ago the town had shut it down, leaving behind broken windows, graffiti, and empty buildings where teenagers hid from adults.
