Alaric arrived three minutes too late.
The moment his car turned onto Maria's street, he saw flashing police lights: an ambulance and Crowds all gathered in the small street of Queens.
His grip tightened on the steering wheel, his mind screaming no.
The car rolled to a stop. He got out immediately.
People were gathered near the entrance of the apartment building.
Residents, onlookers- half the neighbourhood seemed awake.
Alaric pushed through them without a word.
Someone complained. Someone tried to stop him. He ignored both.
Then he saw the body. Maria White.
A white sheet covered most of her, not all of it. One fat, pale old leg remained visible beside the stretcher.
A few feet away, dark stains marked the pavement.
Alaric stopped for several seconds; he simply looked. No emotion crossed his face yet.
No visible reaction, but his mind immediately returned to the phone call.
"At Saint Agnes."
"I saw him there before the fire."
"I think somebody's here."
The memory replayed itself with perfect clarity: every word, every pause, every second.
He glanced at his phone; the disconnected call was still there. Twenty-three minutes ago
Twenty-three minutes. That was how long it had taken for a witness to become a corpse.
A paramedic adjusted the sheet.
Nearby, two officers spoke quietly with building residents.
Questions. Statements. Witnesses. Procedure, which is very normal.
As if this were just another crime scene, maybe it was for them. It wasn't for him.
Because Maria hadn't died randomly. She had remembered something, and now she was dead.
The timing was too perfect. Too convenient.
Someone had listened. Someone had heard her mention Saint Agnes.
Someone had decided she couldn't be allowed to remember anything else.
A police officer stepped in front of him "Sir, you need to stay behind the tape."
Alaric's eyes shifted to the badge, then back to the body.
The officer repeated himself, "Sir?"
Alaric's attention barely shifted; his eyes remained fixed on the covered body.
The officer repeated himself, "Sir."
Around them, residents were talking in hushed voices.
Nobody noticed Alaric listening "I heard a scream."
"No, I heard a crash first." "She fell from upstairs." "I heard she jumped."
The last sentence made Alaric's jaw tighten. Jumped?
Maria had called him less than forty minutes ago. Terrified.
Someone had been inside her apartment.
People didn't call for help because they planned to jump.
A detective walked to him carrying a notebook; another officer entered the building.
The investigation was already moving.
Too fast; the scene felt wrong. Messy. Confused.
Witnesses were contradicting each other; nobody seemed certain about anything.
Which meant somebody would decide the narrative soon.
Accident. Suicide. Fall. Whatever was easiest.
Alaric looked toward the apartment building; his gaze climbed floor after floor.
His phone felt heavy in his hand.
The call log was still open: Maria White, Last call: 2:47 AM.
He stared at it for a moment then locked the screen.
The man noticed, "You knew her?"
Alaric considered the question. Not really, not before this week, not before she became one of the only people connected to the fire willing to talk.
But somehow that answer felt insufficient now "Yes," he said.
The officer nodded and pulled out a small notebook "Family?"
"No."
"Friend?"
"No."
"Then how did you know her?"
Alaric's gaze drifted back to the apartment building.
A dozen answers came to mind, none of them could be said here.
So he simply replied, "She called me."
The officer frowned "When?"
Alaric looked at him "Before she died."
For the first time, the officer's expression changed, and suddenly Alaric had the detective's full attention.
Alex was halfway through answering a question Elara had asked when his phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen. One of his neighbours that was odd, especially at this hour.
"Sorry," he muttered, answering it.
"Hello?"
The voice on the other end sounded strange not panicked, just off "Alex."
His smile faded slightly "Yeah?"
A pause. Then, "Are you home?"
Alex frowned "No."
Another pause "Why?"
The person didn't answer immediately. Instead, he asked, "How far away are you?"
Now his stomach tightened "What happened?"
Silence, then quietly, "It's Maria."
For a second, he didn't react "What about her?"
The answer came quickly this time, "Maria's dead."
Alex stared ahead. The words didn't make sense "What?"
Around him, the night suddenly felt very quiet.
The person on the phone kept talking.
Something about police. Something about an ambulance.
But Alex wasn't really listening anymore; his mind had snagged on the first sentence.
Maria's dead. No. That wasn't right.
He had seen her yesterday.
She'd spent ten minutes arguing with somebody about parking spaces.
She couldn't be dead.
"Alex?"
The voice came through the phone again "You need to come home."
The call ended.
For several seconds he just looked at the screen.
Elara immediately noticed.
The easy expression she'd been wearing disappeared "What's wrong?"
Alex looked up "The old lady in my building."
His voice sounded distant even to himself "Maria."
Elara sat up straighter "What happened?"
"They said she died." The words hung there.
Alex looked away toward nothing, toward the dark street.
Trying to make the sentence make sense, it didn't.
Elara was quiet for a moment. Then, "Do you need to go home?"
Alex nodded immediately "Yeah."
No hesitation or thinking. Just yeah.
Because suddenly being anywhere else felt wrong.
"I walked here." It was a stupid thing to say. He knew it the second it came out.
Elara stood "I'll drive."
Alex opened his mouth to say something, but he didn't; for once, he didn't have the energy.
So he simply nodded, "Okay."
And somehow that single word sounded more exhausted than anything else he'd said all night.
Fifteen minutes later, Elara pulled onto the street.
Police lights painted the buildings blue and red. The crowd was bigger than she expected.
Alex stared through the windshield for a moment; he didn't move.
Then he opened the door "I'll call you."
Elara nodded "Take your time."
He shut the door and disappeared into the crowd.
Elara watched him go, then leaned against her car. The night suddenly felt colder.
What a disaster of a night. Ice cream. Midnight conversations and now this.
Her eyes drifted toward the apartment building.
Toward the police tape. Toward the ambulance.
And then she saw him. Alaric.
He stood near the edge of the scene, speaking with a detective.
The detective eventually walked away.
Alaric remained where he was looking up at the building. Thinking.
Elara hesitated; she remembered seeing him near these streets weeks ago.
Then walked over "What are you doing here?"
Alaric turned the surprise in his eyes lasted less than a second "I could ask you the same thing."
"Alex lives here."
His gaze flickered briefly toward the crowd, then back to her.
"You?"
A muscle in his jaw tightened "I knew Maria."
That caught her attention immediately "You knew her?"
"Yes."
"How?"
For a moment, he didn't answer, then he said: "She worked for your family."
Elara frowned "What?"
"Years ago."
The answer genuinely shocked her "Maria worked at the Montclair estate?"
Alaric nodded "Before the accident."
For a second neither spoke Elara looked toward the covered body something about that made the entire situation feel stranger.
More personal "Why were you talking to her?"
Alaric was silent Then "I was searching for something."
The answer was simple but it was enough.
Elara's stomach sank because she already knew what that meant.
The fire. Again. Always the fire.
Her eyes moved toward Maria "Do you think this has something to do with it?"
Alaric looked at the body then at the apartment building "I don't believe in coincidences."
The answer sent a chill down her spine for a while they stood there without speaking.
Watching police move in and out of the building Watching the aftermath.
Then movement across the street caught Alaric's attention.
Alex.
He had stopped near the police tape one of the older residents was talking to him.
The expression on Alex's face made it obvious he had cared about Maria.
Alaric watched for a second too long.
Elara noticed, A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth "What?"
"Nothing."
"You just made a face."
"I did not."
"You did."
Alaric looked away which was basically confirmation.
Elara folded her arms "His name is Alex."
The response was immediate "I didn't ask."
"You were obviously wondering."
For the first time all night, something close to irritation crossed his face and somehow, despite the flashing police lights and the tragedy surrounding them.
Across the city, Sebastian Virement sat alone in a private booth.
The bar was still busy despite the hour. Music played. People laughed.
Nobody paid attention to the man in the corner scrolling through emails on his phone.
His phone suddenly vibrated. An incoming call.
Sebastian glanced at the screen. Unknown number.
He answered anyway, "Did you find Clara?"
No greeting. No introduction. Straight to the point.
For a moment, the caller said nothing; only faint static filled the line.
Sebastian frowned "Hello?"
A voice finally spoke. Low, Calm, "Maria White is dead."
Silence.
The music continued; glasses clinked somewhere nearby.
A woman laughed at another table.
On the phone, nobody said another word. Neither did Sebastian.
Then, the call disconnected.
Sebastian slowly lowered the phone from his ear.
His expression unreadable, the screen went dark
Maria White is dead a name, just a name.
Yet somehow it had been important enough for someone to call him in the middle of the night.