Killer Classics. Kym Roberts

lens to zero in on his target.

      I quickly stepped in front of him. “That’s none of your business, Liza.” I pointed back at the fence where they’d come in and where some of the braver protestors were starting to come around. “You need to leave.” I addressed the picketers. “All of you need to leave. This is private property.”

      Liza, however, had found the bloody trail to another story, and she wasn’t going to let it go. She went to the other side of the fire and began pulling a box from it. That was such a bad idea, I couldn’t begin to fathom how stupid she was being.

      The fiery pile wobbled. It’s neat cone shape giving way on Liza’s side. Daddy ran and pushed her back, but the damage was done. An avalanche of boxes and books scattered across the lawn. I ran for the hose that I’d laid at the ready in case something went wrong. I never dreamed it would be like this.

      Liza didn’t miss a beat. “Cade Calloway is running for the Senate?” she asked.

      But all Daddy could give her was a blank stare. He didn’t know. He hadn’t seen the posters. He’d assumed the stuff in the tearoom was for Cade’s next mayoral race. And I’d let him believe it. He looked down at the posters. Flames licked at Cade’s political campaign slogan: A Greener Tomorrow with Cade Calloway.

      Fuzz buckets. Cade’s dreams were slowly ebbing from existence as the fire devoured his posters and the camera recorded every last bit.