Jordana's Rescue

"Jordana's Rescue," I mumbled, though the relief I expected felt more like shock. The blue and red lights danced across my face, blindingly bright, but my eyes were locked on Gary. He was on his knees in the driveway, hands behind his head, sobbing loudly as an officer patted him down. The fire department was already hosing down the house, the water hissing as it hit the flames.

"Get him!" Jordana shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. "He's the one! He has the keys! He has everything!"

I leaned against Jordana's car, my legs shaking so hard I thought they might give out. The heat from the fire was intense, warming my skin even from this distance. It smelled like burning wood and melting plastic—the smell of my life going up in smoke.

"Where's Elowen?" I asked, scanning the scene.

"She ran," Jordana said, her face pale in the strobe lights. "I saw her slip into the woods. The police are looking for her."

I looked toward the tree line. The darkness there seemed deeper than before, more menacing. Elowen was out there. Somewhere.

"She won't get far," Jordana said, but she didn't sound convinced.

A police officer approached us. He was young, with a stern face. "Are you the tenant?" he asked me.

"Yes," I said. "Thea Minter."

"We need to take your statement," he said. "And we need to get you checked out by the paramedics."

I nodded numbly. I followed him to the ambulance, Jordana close behind. I sat on the edge of the gurney, letting the medic check my pulse, my breathing.

"You're lucky," the medic said. "Another few minutes in there..."

I didn't need him to finish the sentence.

I looked back at the house. The fire was under control now, but the damage was done. The roof had partially collapsed, and the windows were black holes.

It was ruined.

"Gary," I said, pointing at the man in handcuffs. "He tried to kill us. He locked us in."

"We know," the officer said. "We found the bars on the windows. And the gas line in the basement was tampered with."

I looked at Gary. He was still crying, begging the officers to listen to him.

"It wasn't me!" he wailed. "It was her! Elowen! She made me do it!"

The officers ignored him, shoving him into the back of a patrol car.

"And Elowen?" I asked. "Did you find her?"

The officer shook his head. "Not yet. But we have units searching the area."

I shivered. Elowen was gone. But she wasn't done.

"The diary," I said suddenly. "The evidence."

"It's gone, Thea," Jordana said gently. "It was in the attic. The fire..."

"No," I said. "Not all of it. Maya's phone. I have it."

I reached into my pocket. The phone was still there. Cracked, soot-covered, but intact.

"And the receipt," I added, pulling out the crumpled piece of paper. "The one with Marcus's signature."

Jordana's eyes widened. "You kept it?"

"I kept everything," I said.

The officer looked at the phone. "Is that evidence?"

"It's everything," I said. "It's the whole story."

I handed him the phone. "The passcode is 1022."

He took it, placing it in an evidence bag. "We'll need to examine this."

"Do whatever you have to do," I said. "Just find her. Find Elowen."

The officer nodded and walked away.

I sat there, watching the house smolder. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by a deep, aching exhaustion. I was homeless. My car was impounded. My ex-boyfriend had tried to sell me out, then saved my life, and was now nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Marcus?" I asked.

Jordana looked around. "I don't know. He was right behind us."

We scanned the crowd of neighbors and emergency personnel. No sign of him.

"He probably ran," Jordana said. "He's scared. He knows he's involved."

"He saved me," I said. "He came back."

"Doesn't change what he did," Jordana said. "He still helped them."

I knew she was right. But I couldn't help feeling a pang of... something. Not forgiveness. But maybe understanding. He was weak. He was desperate. And in the end, he had made a choice.

"We should go," Jordana said. "You can stay with me tonight."

I nodded. I stood up, my legs still shaky.

But then I saw it.

Something glinting in the grass near the driveway.

I walked over to it.

It was a key.

A shiny, brass key.

The key Elowen had thrown at me. The key to the nursery.

I picked it up. It was warm from the fire.

"Thea?" Jordana called.

"Coming," I said.

I put the key in my pocket. I didn't know why. Maybe it was a souvenir. Maybe it was a reminder.

Or maybe it was because I knew the story wasn't over.

We got into Jordana's car. As we drove away, I looked back at the house one last time.

The fire trucks were packing up. The police were putting up yellow tape. The neighbors were dispersing, whispering among themselves.

It was over.

But then, I saw her.

Standing at the edge of the woods, just beyond the reach of the streetlights.

Elowen.

She was watching us. She was still wearing the black hoodie, but her face was clean. Too clean.

She raised a hand.

And she waved.

A slow, deliberate wave.

I turned away, my heart pounding.

"Drive," I said to Jordana. "Just drive."

Jordana looked at me, then at the rearview mirror. She didn't say anything. She just pressed the gas.

We sped away from Hydrangea Lane, leaving the ashes of my life behind.

But I knew.

I knew she was still out there.

And I knew she wasn't finished.

My phone buzzed.

I pulled it out. It was a text.

Unknown number.

*Nice try, Thea.*

*But you can't evict a ghost.*

I stared at the screen.

Then, a second text.

*And you can't keep what isn't yours.*

I looked at the key in my pocket.

And then I realized.

It wasn't the key to the nursery.

It was the key to the basement.

The basement where Gary had kept his secrets.

The basement where Maya had died.

And where Elowen had been hiding something else.

Something she hadn't wanted me to find.

Something she was willing to kill for.

I looked out the window at the passing streetlights.

The nightmare wasn't over.

It was just beginning.