Chapter 4 Carmen
CARMEN
Carmen relaxed into the seat of Willa’s car.
It had been a tough week since she and June arrived in Sandpiper Shores.
So much for a vacation. She glanced around as they drove.
Everything here had a way of absorbing whatever happened and then quietly carrying it forward, like the town kept receipts even when people tried to pretend it didn’t.
They’d barely pulled away from the curb when Willa glanced sideways at her, eyes narrowing the way they always did when Willa was assessing someone, or preparing to scold them with love.
“You look exhausted,” Willa said, not bothering to soften it. “You’ve got that hollow-eyed thing going on. The one that says you’ve been living on caffeine and stubbornness.”
Carmen leaned her head back against the seat for a second and let herself feel the weight of her own exhaustion, the kind that lived in her muscles and sat behind her eyes like a dull pressure.
She’d been running on adrenaline for so long that when it faded, even slightly, it felt like someone had poured sand into her bloodstream.
“I’m fine,” she lied automatically, because that was what EMTs did, and Willa snorted like she’d heard that line before.
“Sure you are,” Willa said dryly. “My kids, my mother, and I have barely seen you since you arrived. You’ve basically been a rumor in scrubs.”
Carmen’s mouth tightened with guilt before she could stop it. She didn’t like being called out on it, not because Willa was wrong, but because Willa was right and Carmen hadn’t had a good excuse ready.
“It’s the height of summer,” Carmen said, keeping her voice steady.
She watched the road ahead even though Willa was driving, as if looking outward helped her keep her emotions tucked away.
“The camp sites are full. The cabins are full. Hotels, inns, rentals, all packed. That means people get stupid. They climb things they shouldn’t.
They swim where they shouldn’t. They ignore guides.
They dare each other. They drink too much. They get hurt.”
Willa didn’t argue. “Yes, I know it’s the crazy summer season.”
“And we’re short-staffed,” Carmen continued, because it mattered. “It’s not just me. It’s everyone. The crew we’ve got is working just as hard, if not harder than I am.”
Willa’s fingers tightened briefly on the steering wheel. “We’re short-staffed at the fire station too,” she agreed, and her tone softened slightly. “Chief Evans brought a list of new recruits for firefighters and EMTs.”
The words hit Carmen in a way she hadn’t expected.
Her spine stiffened, and the guilt she’d been holding at bay slid forward like a cold tide.
Carmen knew that Chief Evans was going to make a surprise visit to the fire department.
Carmen had heard from another EMT captain from the fire department in Gainesville that Chief Evans was planning an early surprise visit to Sandpiper Shores.
Carmen had meant to warn Willa, meant to give her a heads-up so she wouldn’t get blindsided and start spiraling into suspicion and anger.
But she hadn’t had time to warn her niece.
And now it was too late, because he was already here, walking around, looking at things, asking questions, smiling that polite, controlled smile that made Carmen feel like he was measuring her.
Willa turned onto the road that ran parallel to the sea, and Carmen’s eyes flicked toward the ocean as the view opened up beside them. Blue water stretched under a bright sky, glittering in the sunlight like it hadn’t ever known grief or sirens or smoke.
“I love this area,” Carmen murmured. “It’s so peaceful.”
Willa’s mouth quirked. “That’s because it is. Even when it isn’t.”
Carmen exhaled slowly, letting her gaze follow the coastline. “Even with the hours I’ve been pulling,” she admitted, “I don’t feel as stressed as I do in Miami. Down there, it’s like the air itself is charged. Here, it’s… quieter. Like your body remembers how to breathe.”
Willa laughed softly. “Maybe it’s time for you and my mother to sell up in Miami and move here.”
“I don’t think your mother is ready to let go of Miami,” Carmen snorted. “I don’t think June would ever leave that city. There are too many memories holding her there.”
Willa glanced at her, eyes bright with mischief. “You know, Aunt Carmen,” she said in that too-casual tone that never meant anything good, “you could keep being an EMT captain here. That’s one less position we’d have to fill.”
Carmen turned, startled. “What?”
Willa’s hands stayed steady on the wheel as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb. “The person you’re filling in for resigned. Her condition turned out to be severe, and they’re moving to a bigger city for her treatment.”
Carmen stared at her niece. “When did you hear that?”
“Late last night,” Willa said. “I was going to tell you later when you came in for your afternoon shift.”
“Oh!” Carmen’s brows rose. “I’m sorry to hear that. Captain Barry is excellent at her job.”
“I know,” Willa agreed with a nod and sigh. “But now we’ll need a new EMT Captain.” Her grin widened. “When you’re more rested, maybe we can discuss it?”
Carmen nodded as they pulled into Willa’s driveway, and the house came into view, bright and beachy and deceptively normal, as if it wasn’t holding the weight of everything that had happened in the past ten years.
Carmen had always liked Willa’s house. It felt like Willa.
Sturdy. Warm. A little chaotic, with laughter stitched into the walls.
They barely stepped through the front door before Blaze barreled into them like a cannonball with spots.
The Dalmatian’s tail whipped back and forth so hard it looked like it might detach, and Blaze jumped up, paws landing on Carmen’s thigh, licking her hand with the enthusiasm of a creature who did not understand personal boundaries.
“Hi, Blaze,” Carmen muttered, scratching behind his ears.
Willa called out as she hung up her jacket. “Kids, I’m home!”
A beat later, the deck door banged open, and three teenagers came in from the beach in a rush of sand, sun, and noise, as if they couldn’t enter a room quietly even if someone offered them money.
They were greeted with warm enthusiastic hugs and complaints that they were starving.
“There’s a lot in the refrigerator and cupboards,” Willa pointed out, and before she could say more, Carmen’s phone rang.
Carmen didn’t even have to look at it to know, because her body reacted first, the way it always did when the job called her back from whatever fragile moment she’d been trying to have.
She pulled the phone out, and June’s name flashed on the screen.
“Hi, sister,” Carmen answered, watching Willa move deeper into the house, still talking to the kids. Carmen could hear Blaze trotting after them, claws tapping on the wooden floor.
June’s voice came through tight, with sirens faint in the background, and Carmen’s heart dropped before June even finished her first sentence.
“Carmen, I know you’re tired but…” June hesitated, and Carmen could feel the weight behind it. “Teacups is on fire, and…”
Carmen’s entire body went cold. “And what?” she demanded.
“Margo’s trapped inside,” June said, voice strained. “With Rad.”
For half a second, Carmen couldn’t move before her instincts kicked her into overdrive.
“Have emergency services been called?” Carmen asked automatically, even though she knew the answer, because she could hear the sirens in the background.
“Yes,” June said. “They’re here, but… It’s that young crew.”
“I’m on my way,” Carmen said, and she didn’t wait for more. She hung up and turned, already moving.
Willa was right there, eyes sharp. “What is it?”
Carmen’s mouth was dry. “I need to borrow your car. Teacups is on fire, and Margo and Rad are trapped inside.”
The kids froze. Grace’s hand went to Becky’s shoulder automatically, as if she could anchor her.
Willa didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go,” she said, already turning toward the coat hook where her gear hung. “Grace, as usual, sweetheart, you’re in charge.”
Grace nodded. “Of course, but Tyler, Katie, and Zoe are coming over soon, so Katie will be here to help me keep an eye on things.”
“That’s good.” Willa moved fast, kissing each of their heads in turn, the gesture swift but deliberate. “Be good,” she said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Be careful!” Becky shouted, voice cracking slightly, and Andy echoed her, trying to sound casual and failing.
Outside, as they sprinted toward the car, another vehicle pulled up.
Mina Dillinger climbed out, and Tyler followed behind her, Duchess, his basset hound, trailing behind him as an excited Bolt dashed out to greet the dog.
Mina’s eyes widened when she saw Willa and Carmen’s expressions. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“Teacups,” Willa said quickly. “It’s on fire.”
Mina’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my goodness!”
“I’m sorry I have to rush, Mina,” Willa said. “And Grace and Katie will be looking after the others today as my housekeeper, Mrs. Donalds, is off sick this week.”
“I’ll stay here,” Mina said quickly. “I don’t mind. I don’t have a lot going on today.”
Willa nodded, relief flashing across her face. “Thank you. If you’re sure.”
“Go,” Mina urged. “I’ve got them, and please keep me updated.”
Willa didn’t waste another second. The engine roared to life, and within moments, they were tearing down the road, siren on, and lights flashing.
Carmen’s exhaustion evaporated like it had never existed. Adrenaline surged in her veins, hot and sharp, turning her into what she had always been in a crisis: focused, fast, and terrifyingly calm.
“What on earth is going on in this town?” Carmen demanded as they barreled toward Teacups. “And don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes, I’m not blind or stupid.”
Willa’s jaw tightened. “Didn’t Mom fill you in?”
“No,” Carmen said, frustration rising. “We’ve barely had a chance to speak since we got here because I’ve been working, and she’s been… busy. I have to ask, do we have another arsonist?”
“It looks that way,” Willa admitted, her eyes fixed on the road. “At first I thought…”
“You thought what?” Carmen pressed.
Willa’s mouth tightened, and she looked uncomfortable. “I thought it had something to do with ten years ago.”
Carmen stared at her. “Ten years ago,” she repeated slowly, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning.
Willa nodded once, sharply. “Because of the weird incidents,” she said, and Carmen could hear the anger in her voice. “Rad being locked in the records room. Shelves crashing down around him. Margo’s shop is being targeted. My tires have been slashed. Then there were the warning letters.”
Carmen’s throat tightened. “Wait,” she said sharply. “Your tires were slashed, and you got threatening letters?”
Willa’s eyes flicked toward her briefly. “Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” Carmen’s voice rose.
“We didn’t have time, Aunt Carmen. And then Lacey’s accident happened, and it all shifted,” Willa explained.
Carmen’s mind tried to keep up as the pieces slid into place.
“You thought this was connected to ten years ago,” she said slowly. “So you think there’s a copycat?”
Willa shook her head, and the answer made Carmen’s blood run cold.
“No,” she said quietly. “I thought it was the actual perpetrator.”
Carmen’s breath caught. “You don’t think it was…” she said, groping for the name. “That YouTuber.”
“Gilbert Fry,” Willa supplied, voice flat. “No. I didn’t think it was him back then, and I don’t now.”
“You know his phone and video footage were never found,” Willa continued, and Carmen’s pulse picked up again. “We all saw him here. He was always taking videos. Interviewing people and was at every fire that happened that year, taking videos and photos. So what happened to all that footage?”
“Did you speak to any of the people he interviewed?” Carmen asked.
Willa shook her head. “I didn’t know who they were,” she admitted. “Detective Nigel Frost was still here and running the investigation. That was before he shut it down, and the list of anyone Gilbert interviewed went missing.”
“Convenient,” Carmen muttered.
Willa’s expression darkened. “So yes,” she said, her voice tight. “I think the real person behind those fires ten years ago still hasn’t been caught.”
Carmen’s throat tightened at the mention of the fires ten years ago. It was a year that had burned itself into the town’s bones and still haunted all the residents.
“And they got away with murder,” Willa added, and her voice sharpened. “Actually, six murders.”
“Six?” Carmen repeated, shocked.
Willa nodded. “Yes, I’m convinced it all started with the death of Cynthia Frost.”
Carmen’s eyes widened. “Nigel’s mother. But didn’t Cynthia die in a car accident?”
Willa’s voice dropped. “No, we were all convinced it wasn’t an accident.”
“We?” Carmen’s eyes narrowed.
“Shaun, Margo, Nigel, and the three other firefighters that were killed in the same fire as Shaun,” Willa explained, and Carmen could hear the grief tucked under her control.
“The day Shaun said they were finally getting the evidence they needed to prove it was all connected to Cynthia…” Willa’s voice caught, just for a second, and then she forced it steady again.
“That was the day of the fire that took five lives.”
Shock hit Carmen like a physical blow, and she didn’t have time to process it because they were turning into town, and the chaos was already visible.