Chapter 13 - The Ringing Phone on the Ruins
The rhythmic, piercing ringtone cut through the quiet crackle of the burning debris like a scalpel. Ring. Ring. Ring. It was the default factory marimba tune, bright and incongruous against the backdrop of total devastation.
Clara lay flat in the damp grass of the drainage ditch, her breathing ragged as she kept the twins nestled securely against her chest. Her white t-shirt was stained with dirt and sweat, but her eyes were fixed entirely on the smoking pile of timber fifty yards away.
"Who's calling?" Officer Vance muttered, wiping soot from his forehead as he peered over the edge of the concrete barrier.
"It's Leo's burner number," Sarah said, pulling her phone from her denim jacket and checking the incoming Caller ID. "The GPS tracking signal is bouncing off a cell tower less than a mile from here. He didn't flee the state at all."
Martha stood up slowly, brushing bits of drywall from her green cardigan with an expression of cold, calculated fury. "He never leaves the scene until the insurance adjuster signs off on the total loss claim. It’s his favorite part of the gristmill."
"Give me the phone, Sarah," Clara said quietly, her voice carrying a steely resolve that surprised everyone in the ditch.
Sarah hesitated, handing the device over with a cautious look. "Clara, you shouldn't talk to him. Let the police handle it."
"The police are busy looking for a ghost," Clara replied, sliding her thumb across the screen to accept the call and pressing the speaker button before holding it out so everyone could hear.
Silence hung on the line for three agonizing seconds, punctuated only by the crackle of distant flames. Then, a smooth, familiar voice came through the tiny speaker.
"Well, Clara," Leo said, sounding remarkably calm, as if he were calling from a sunny cafe rather than the edge of a crime scene. "I hope you like the new landscaping. I told you we were going to clear out the old foundation and start fresh."
Clara gripped the phone so hard her knuckles turned white, her eyes burning with tears of exhaustion and fury. "The house is gone, Leo. And so are you."
"The house was insured for three times its market value under your maiden name," Leo chuckled lightly on the other end. "All you have to do is sign the digital claims form waiting in your inbox, and we can meet up in Cabo by tomorrow morning. Just you, me, and the kids."
"There are no kids for you to steal anymore, Leo," Clara said, her voice dropping to a harsh, steady whisper. "Your mother, your first wife, and a federal detective are standing right here in the ash with me. And the police are tracking your exact coordinates from this very call."
The line went completely dead for two seconds. Then, a low, sharp click echoed through the speaker, followed by a voice that wasn't Leo's at all.
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"Tracing the call is cute, detective," a gruff voice announced over the line. "Too bad your own cruiser at the end of the alley just had its brakes cut."
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