Callum & Harper (Sleepless 1)

“It looks like it started in your apartment!” He yelled into the phone. “You’re needed here, Callum.”

“We’ll be right there!” I yelled back, ending the phone call.

I tugged Harper’s hand toward the club. She’d heard everything and was in shock. I found the girls on the dance floor.

“Cherry!” I yelled, pulling at her sleeve.

“What’s up, baby?” She yelled.

“Our apartment’s on fire! I’m pretty sure it was John! Tell the others! Meet us there, okay?”

She grabbed my face in her hands and tears had begun to well in her eyes. “Go! We’ll be there soon!”

We ran. The taxi was the longest two minute drive of my life. I threw a few bills, not really caring if it was enough or too much, and launched us out the door. The building was indeed in flames on our corner of the building. I noticed our apartment seemed to be the only one on fire. I thanked God for small blessings. They must have gotten there pretty quickly.

“No!” Harper yelled.

We wound our way through the throng of people and found a fireman on a radio.

“That’s our apartment!” I yelled over the sirens. “Did everyone get out safely?” I asked.

“Everyone! Are you Callum and Harper Tate?”

“Yes, sir!”

“You two were the only ones we had yet to locate. Please, stay nearby!” He said, running off another direction as a section of Harper’s bedroom collapsed into the street, shattering into a flaming mess, making us both cringe.

So, Harper and I were forced to watch our apartment burn to a black crisp. Harper was openly sobbing, clinging to my shirt, burying her face in my neck. I tried to soothe her by rubbing her hair but it did no good. What could I possibly do or say? We both knew who started it. He ruined everything we had worked for. All those years of shopping for frugal purchases, investing an astronomical amount of time into making our house cozy and everything wonderful, gone. In a blaze of hate. I absently remembered that we had renter’s insurance and breathed a small sigh of relief knowing we’d get to at least purchase a new life if we ever survived John Bell’s wrath.

Then, I remembered Harper’s copy of To Kill A Mockingbird and almost cried for her. I wasn’t going to bring it up. I hoped for a small favor in that it might be spared but I knew that would be unlikely. We were literally losing all our possessions. We were being left with less than what we had when we met, which was absolutely nothing accept for a motorcycle and a book. I’d come to terms with my bike being gone but Harper’s book was the only link to one of the only happy memories she even had.

I barely remember hands being wrapped around our bodies. They stood around us, enveloping us in their warmth and kindness. Yet again, pillars for us to lean on. I don’t know how long we stood like that, as they fought the scorching inferno that was John Bell, but they never faltered. They held us until a fireman came up to let us know that it was cleared to scope out the damage. We nodded and waited to hear word on just how bad the injury was.

I remember Cherry and Charlie discussing where we should stay and they’d decided Charlie’s was best and he’d go stay with her, but that at least for the night, none of us should be apart. Cherry sent the girls out to pick up essentials for both Harper and I; toothbrushes, underwear, basic clothing, things like that. Charlie told Tom and SO to ready his apartment for our arrival. I couldn’t speak, too engrossed in caring for a grieving Harper but I remembered feeling an overwhelming gratefulness to our generous and considerate friends.

It was almost light out when it seemed all the trucks were gone. The only ones left were us and a few investigators. All had been cleared to return to their apartments. There was no structural damage. Our apartment was the only affected. The police had arrived shortly after that and we answered as many questions as possible. The fire investigator confirmed it was arson. He returned to his truck while we spoke to the detectives and brought back a clear plastic bag with a large metal case inside. I didn’t recognize any of it so I knew it had to have been something John left.

“This is a fire proof box we found in the middle of their living room. We figured it was left by the arsonist. It had a name written in marker across the top and a melted bow. It looked out of place,” the investigator told the detective.

“That’s definitely not ours,” I said.

“Can we take this?” The detective asked.

“I need to process it. You can have all when we’re done with our investigation. Is it something you’d be interested in?”

“Well, yeah, the suspect in their assault case from a few weeks ago is probably our number one in the arson as well.”

“Ah, I see. Alright, well, I’ll hand it over to you then. Yours takes precedence. Just let us know when you’re done,” the investigator said, starting to walk away.

“Wait, what do you think is in it?” Harper asked, clinging to my side.

“We’re not sure, Miss. We suspect a message of sorts,” he answered.

“We’ll process for prints at the office, Harper,” the detective said. “Once it’s opened, we’ll let you know what’s inside.”

“Will you call tonight?” I asked.

“You mean, this morning?” He asked, squinting at the rising morning sun. I nodded. “Sure, I’ll be sure to do that.”