Chapter 14 Gisselle
Two weeks of quiet had my nerves stretched thinner than dollar store dental floss. I sat on Liam's couch, flicking between news channels, wondering if anything had changed, but nothing had. I set the remote down.
Living with Liam these past weeks had been a mix of domestic bliss and constant vigilance.
At night, we cooked dinner together, watched movies, and talked about everything until we fell asleep.
In bed, he curved his body protectively around mine, but during the day, he checked the locks twice before leaving for work and called to make sure I made it safely to the construction site.
He constantly scanned for any threats if we were in public.
The community center project was still on track after the last council meeting.
Mayor Thompson made it a point of publicly reaffirming her support for my design.
Still, there were no arrests or suspects in the case, which seemed to go cold by the day, while we all pretended life was back to normal.
I'd almost given up when Liam's doorbell rang without warning.
I opened the door to Fire Marshal Winters.
"Lieutenant, Ms. Daniels, sorry to interrupt your afternoon." Winters nodded in my direction with his silver-streaked hair.
"No problem. What's going on?" Liam asked. Liam moved to stand beside me as I stood from the couch.
"We got a tip from a business near the hardware store. Their security camera picked up something the night of the fire."
Winters pulled a flash drive from his pocket and held it up.
"What's on it?" I asked, muting the TV.
"Someone in a gray hoodie and black pants was spotted lurking near the hardware store about twenty minutes before the fire was reported. We don't have a clear shot of the face, but it's more than we've had so far," Winters explained.
Liam reached for his phone. "I'm calling the crew over. More eyes on this might help."
"Do you think your guys might recognize something we missed?" Winters asked.
Liam nodded. "Jaxon and Dane are off today. They both lived in Goodwin Grove their whole lives. If this person is local, there's a chance they might recognize something about their build, their walk, anything."
While Liam made the calls, I headed to the kitchen to make coffee.
By the time the coffee was ready, Jaxon and Dane were at the front door.
They were in civilian clothes — jeans and T-shirts — rather than their uniforms. Still, they carried themselves with the same readiness I associated with firefighters on duty.
"The lieutenant's living room is the new investigation headquarters," Jaxon announced, dropping onto the couch.
While everyone said their pleasantries, Liam set up the laptop and connected it to the TV. On the screen was an image of an alleyway behind the hardware store.
"The timestamp says this is 9:47 p.m., and the fire was reported at 10:13 p.m.," Winters explained.
Liam hit play, and for several seconds, nothing happened.
Someone then entered the frame from the right, medium height, wearing exactly what Winters described.
They wore a gray hoodie pulled low over their face, black pants, and carried something in their right hand that looked like a small duffel bag.
The figure moved with purpose, neither running nor moving slowly. They checked over their shoulder twice before disappearing around the corner of the building.
"Is that it? We can't see shit," Jaxon said in disappointment.
"Wait. There's more." Liam forwarded about five minutes, and this time, the figure appeared without a duffel bag, moving quickly, almost jogging, as he exited the frame.
"Play it again," Winters instructed.
Liam replayed the footage three more times, each time focusing on different details: the person's height, their build, and the way they moved.
"Something about his walk. Play it one more time but slow it down when he first enters the frame," Jaxon muttered.
Liam rolled the footage again, moving at half speed as the figure appeared.
"Stop right there. The way he's holding his left arm slightly away from his body. Wait, isn't that Whitaker's nephew, Tyler?" Jaxon shouted, pointing at the screen.
The room fell silent.
"Tyler Whitaker?" Dane asked.
"Do you know him?" I asked.
Dane nodded. "Yeah, I've seen him around. He does odd jobs for his uncle. I remember his walk. He kind of swings his left arm out. He dislocated his shoulder playing football in high school in River Hill."
"The guy looks to be about the right height, skinny kid, early twenties," Jaxon added, growing more confident.
"I'm calling the chief and telling him we might have an ID on our suspect." Liam's eyes met mine before he turned away to speak into the phone.
"Are you okay?" Dane asked, noticing my expression.
"Yeah, actually, for the first time in a few weeks, I am."
Across the room, Liam spoke on his phone. His protective glances would've annoyed me, coming from anyone else, but from him, they felt like a promise.
A few days later, after Tyler Whitaker had been taken into custody, an emergency council meeting had been called.
Liam and I sat in the back row of the Town Hall as the council members filled the room with solemn expressions.
Whitaker entered last. His usual polished appearance was rumpled. He looked like a man who hadn't slept.
Mayor Thompson called the meeting to order. "We've gathered today to address serious allegations against Councilman Whitaker and his potential involvement in recent fires plaguing our community."
The room was so quiet I could hear a pin drop. Fire Marshal Winters approached the podium, carrying a manila folder and a small digital recorder.
"As many of you may know, a few days ago, Tyler Whitaker was taken into custody for questioning. After the initial denial, Tyler Whitaker provided a full confession." Winters pressed play on the recorder.
"It was my uncle's idea. He said the insurance would cover everything, and we'd split the money.
He needed cash to cover some bad investments, but he couldn't sell the properties outright without taking a loss.
The fires at the storage units were practice runs.
He wanted me to establish a pattern that wouldn't point to him when the fire at his place was set.
Then his hate for the new architect got in the way.
He added the community center to the list of places to burn, but I couldn't get the fire to catch right.
He said I botched the job, and he wouldn't pay me.
Man, I don't give a damn about him. If he ain't gonna pay me, I'll turn his ass in. "
Winters paused the recording. Liam's hand found mine, and he squeezed gently. The council members' faces showed shock and betrayal as they looked at Whitaker, who sat stone-faced.
The doors opened, and several police officers entered the room.
Mayor Thompson approached the podium. "Thank you, Fire Marshall Winters. Councilman Whitaker, although these are allegations, you are innocent until proven guilty, but we are formally requesting your immediate resignation from this council."
Whitaker didn't flinch or protest. He simply reached into his jacket, pulled out a piece of paper, and slid it across the table.
"Effective immediately, my resignation," he said in a flat voice.
As he stood to leave, police officers approached and escorted him out the door. He never looked my way, and that bothered me because I wanted him to look me in the eye.
As Liam and I stood to leave, Mayor Thompson approached us. "Ms. Daniels, I want to personally express how deeply sorry I am that you were targeted this way. Goodwin Grove values your contribution to our community, and I hope this unfortunate situation hasn't soured your view of our town."
"Thank you, Mayor. No, I'm looking forward to getting back to work without these distractions," I replied.
She nodded, clearly relieved I hadn't planned to sue the town or walk away from the project. Politics first.
In the hallway outside the council chambers, the townspeople surrounded me, some I recognized from the construction site, others I'd seen around in restaurants or local shops.
An older woman briefly touched my arm. "My cousin does construction at the community center, and he said your design is the best thing that's happened to this town in years."
"We should've seen what Whitaker was doing. He's always been about the money, not the community. Sorry, we didn't shut him down sooner," a man in a flannel shirt added.
"You've been so professional through all of this. If someone tried to burn down my project and blame me for it, I would've lost my mind," another woman chimed in.
All the apologies, admiration, and acceptance washed over me. I smiled and thanked all of them for their support. Still, inside, my emotions threatened to overwhelm me. My hands trembled as I accepted their words, and I clasped them together to hide the involuntary reaction.
Liam's hand moved to the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd.
"Ms. Daniels has had a long day, but she appreciates your support," Liam commented diplomatically.
We made it to the parking lot when I realized I'd held my breath, so I exhaled slowly.
"You did great," Liam expressed as he opened the truck door for me.
"I did nothing but sit there and watch that man's life implode," I countered, climbing in.
"You showed more grace than he deserved. Are you ready to go home?" Liam's eyes were on mine. Home. A simple word for what his house had become to me.
"Yes, I'm ready to go home."
We were quiet on the drive. I didn't know why I just wasn't ready to speak, but the moment we got inside, I crumbled. I kicked off my heels, sending them flying across the entryway. I walked into the living room, where I let loose.
"That calculating, manipulative, trash ass man. All this time, all this damn time!"
My hands shook as my tears came fast.
"He could've killed someone — his own nephew, the construction workers, me, and for what? Some funky little insurance money." I angrily swiped at my eyes.
Liam gave me space to vent without interruption.
A strangled half-sob, half-laugh escaped me.
"And did you see his face when they played that confession?
He wasn't even sorry. He was only sorry he got caught.
" I plopped onto the couch, my adrenaline surge beginning to fade.
"God, I knew something was off about that man from day one.
My mom always said to trust your first mind about people. "
Liam finally moved my way. "I agree. Something was off about him. Still, you held it together in there. I was impressed."
"Thank you. Black girl 101: never let them see you sweat. Besides, I'd never give him the satisfaction of seeing me break, not in this lifetime."
Liam nodded in understanding. That was one thing I loved about him: how he listened without making me explain every nuance of navigating spaces as a Black woman.
"Now, we build the community center better and stronger than before."
"You know, through this whole nightmare, one good thing came out of this. If Whitaker hadn't been a criminal asshole, we might not have ended up here." Liam gestured between us.
"I like to think we would've found our way to each other anyway." I smiled.
Liam returned my smile. "Wait here a second." He disappeared down the hallway toward the bedroom, and when he returned, he held a small box.
My heart stuttered as he sat down, turning to face me.
"I know you said you weren't leaving, but I wanted to make it official. Move in with me permanently because I want to build something real with you."
Liam handed me the box. I opened it and inside was a silver key on a dalmatian keychain. It was the cutest thing I'd ever seen. My vision blurred as fresh tears filled my eyes, but these were happy ones this time. I took the key from the box.
"Are you sure about this, Lieutenant? I come with a lot of opinions."
"I'm counting on it. Before, this house was just a place to sleep between shifts, but now you've made it a home," he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile, making my heart race.
I closed my fingers around the key. "In that case, yes, absolutely yes."
"We can hire movers for your apartment next week." Liam's thumb brushed away a tear that escaped me.
"Thankfully, it was a short-term rental, so the timing is perfect." Liam wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close with the key still in my hand.
"Who would've thought the best thing to come out of this whole mess would be you?"
"The best thing is us," Liam corrected.