Chapter 3 SHADOWS IN THE SMOKE.

The next morning, Amara woke with the photo still clutched in her hand. The boy beside her father - Elias - looked younger, but his expression had the same quiet calm he wore now. But what was that in his hand? A lighter? A tool? What could it be?

Unanswered questions jumping on her head.

"Oh my father, I need answers,I need answers.." she whispered.

Father, I wish you can rise and point out who's behind all this. She said angrily.

Can someone give me answers, her voice raised. She looked at no one around. Just her shouting talking to herself.

It could be anything, she told herself again.

And yet, something in her gut whispered: Don't ignore it.

She tucked the photo back into her journal and tried to shake the unease. Elias had been nothing but kind since she returned. He helped her, listened to her, stood beside her when no one else would. But still... that tiny crack in her trust had begun to widen.

Her thoughts circled like smoke, curling into corners she didn't want to look at. What if I've let him too close?

Hope I'm not making a huge mistake, she said heavily.

Elias arrived just after breakfast, his truck pulling up with a soft rumble outside the bakery.

"Ready for today's digging?" he asked with a smile.

Helena nodded, grabbing her bag. "Where to this time?"

He handed her a folded piece of paper. It was a list of names - former contractors, workers who had been on the development project before it was shut down.

"Thought we'd try talking to some of these guys. I circled the ones still living nearby," he said.

Helena raised an eyebrow. "You've been busy."

He chuckled. "I'm trying to keep up with you."

They started with a man named Harold Griggs - an old electrician who had worked on wiring the area. He lived alone in a dusty house at the edge of town. His memory was foggy, but his hands trembled when Helena mentioned her father's name.

"Vale?" he croaked. "Yeah, I remember him. Good man. Said no to the wrong people."

"What do you mean?" Helena asked quickly.

Harold's eyes darted toward Elias before he spoke. "Just... Some folks wanted that land real bad. They didn't like being told no."

"Did you hear about the fire?" Elias asked.

Harold nodded. "Everyone did. But I never believed it was the stove."

Helena leaned forward. "Then what do you think it was? Pls I need to know"

The old man hesitated, then whispered, "I think it was a warning."

Warning?. She asked.

"Yes," Harold answered.

Back outside, Helena stared at the road in silence, her thoughts running wild.

"A warning," she repeated. "Not an accident. Not even a hit. Just... a message."

Elias folded his arms. "Maybe. But we still don't know who sent it."

She glanced at him. "Do you think your dad knows more than he told you?"

Elias was quiet for a moment too long. Then: "Maybe. But he's gone now, so whatever he knew... died with him."

Helna nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his face, staring at him, looking deep into his eyes.

But her heart whispered again: He's hiding something.

They visited two more people that day, but no one had answers - only vague memories and hushed voices. Fear still hung in the corners of their words, even ten years later.

As the sun began to dip low, Elias offered to drive her home, but Helena shook her head.

"I need to walk," she said. "To clear my head."

"You okay?" he asked, concerned in his voice.

"Yeah. Just... tired."

He didn't push. "Call me if you need anything."

As he drove off, Helena slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out the photo again. The lighter-or whatever it was-still seemed like a shadow she couldn't explain. What if it was just a toy? Or something harmless?

But what if it wasn't?

She decided to visit one more person - someone she hadn't seen in years.

Mrs. Rowan, her former neighbor, still lived two houses down from the ruins of Helena's family home. Her yard was filled with overgrown roses, and her cane tapped softly as she opened the door.

"Helena Vale?," she said, her voice cracking with age. "I never thought I'd see you again."

"I came back for answers," Helena said. "About the fire."

Mrs. Rowan's face darkened. "Too many things about that night never made sense."

"You were there," Helena said softly. "Did you see anything?"

The old woman's eyes narrowed. "I remember hearing shouting. A car door slamming. And then-fire. Quick and loud. Your father ran out once, then ran back in... never came out again."

Helena's heart twisted. "Who was shouting?"

She hesitated. "I don't know. But someone else was there before the flames. A boy, maybe."

"A boy?" Helena pressed. "Did you see his face?"

"No," Mrs. Rowan said. "But I remember hearing a voice. Familiar. I always thought... it sounded like that Hayes boy."

Helena's blood ran cold.

"Elias?"

The old woman nodded slowly. "Could've been. He was always hanging around back then. Sweet boy. But sometimes... quiet boys hide loud secrets."

Helena left with her thoughts tangled like vines. She walked back to her room and locked the door behind her. She took the photo out one more time, staring at Elias's face.

Could it be true?

Was it him she heard that night? Was it him her father shouted at? And if it was... why?

The questions were louder now. She could feel them crawling beneath her skin. But the worst part?

She still wanted to believe in him.

Still wanted to trust the boy who held her hand in the dark, who smiled when she smiled, who looked at her like she was the only thing that made sense in this broken town.

But if Elias had something to do with the fire... if he caused it... even by accident...

She would never forgive him.

And she would never let him get away with it.