Tall.
Dark jacket.
Watching the workers carry equipment into the neighboring building.
I had only seen him for seconds through the kitchen window while pouring water.
Then—
Explosion.
Fire.
Screaming.
Oh God.
“You remember me,” Callahan whispered.
It wasn’t a question.
I backed away from him instinctively.
“You watched it happen?”
“No!”
His voice broke so violently it startled me.
“I didn’t know the building would explode, Merritt.”
“Then why were you there?”
Callahan’s hands shook at his sides.
“Because my father and I were fighting.”
The words came unevenly now, like he had buried them alive for years.
“He used illegal contractors. He bribed inspectors. I found out he was forcing workers to reconnect gas lines without permits because it was cheaper.” His breathing grew ragged. “I threatened to tell my mother.”
I stared at him.
“And?”
“And he hit me.”
Silence.
“My father never hit me before that night,” Callahan whispered. “But when I told him people could die… he lost control.”
Something cold settled into my stomach.
“I ran out of the building.”
His blind eyes lowered toward the floor.
