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“We need to find out what you’d be entitled to because of it.” Liv placed a comforting hand on his knee. “We don't know yet. But we'll find out. We have to be one step ahead. We need to identify who's behind this.”
Jackson nodded. “Liv, you need to find them before they do something else.”
“It’s 6:30. We need to try to catch a few hours of sleep. Then, first stop, my mother’s house,” Liv told him her plan. “I’ll stay down here. Go upstairs.”
The exhaustion hung heavy beneath his eyes. He kissed her deeply and headed upstairs.
* * *
Liv quickly dialed her phone, her voice urgent. “You need to get back to Jackson's.”
Fifteen minutes went by, and her partner, Michael, arrived. “Where is he?” He scanned the area.
“I sent him to lie down,” Liv replied, her fingers twisting in her hair. “Mike, you need to help me piece this mess together. Jackson might be part Waverly and part Ashcroft.”
Michael let out a low whistle, absorbing the revelation. “How do you figure?”
Liv recounted the story, displaying the book she was shown. “Robert Kendrick handled Jackson’s adoption. If the arsons are linked to Jackson, why did they start now? How did they uncover Jackson’s potential heritage? And what's the connection between these fires?”
“I heard from your sister,” Michael began, leaning in close to her. “The arsonist seems to be targeting members of the town council from 1979. Each glass vial they've left contains a cryptic clue about a phoenix, female ashes and a female tooth.” He slid a set of files across the table.
“How did Molly identify tonight’s body so quickly?” Liv asked, hastily flipping through one of the files.
“The family reported him missing when he didn't return for dinner. Your broadcast to all local agencies put them on alert, and they notified Molly. She had a sample ready for comparison,” Michael explained.
“Are there any more survivors from that time?” Liv dove into another folder.
“Fred Lamply and Phoebe Jefferson, the secretary. Her family filed a missing person’s report. They advised me she left town a week ago and stopped answering phone calls three days back. I put out a BOLO. We're looking,” Michael informed her.
“Where do we start?” Liv sighed.
“We need to prove one way or the other if this is linked to Jackson. But for now, you need some rest. I've got two officers from Waverly Junction and two county officers stationed to watch the house,” Michael stated firmly, concern etched on his face.
Liv knew he was right. There was much to unravel, and she needed a clear head. With a nod, she agreed, trusting in the watchful eyes outside.
Michael got up to leave Jackson's mother's home. Liv approached him with a gentle demeanor, knowing the importance of the conversation she needed to have.
“Michael,” Liv began softly, “I want you to know how much you mean to me. You've been more than just a colleague or a friend—you've been a partner, a confidant, and the brother I never had. Your support and guidance have shaped me in ways I can't even begin to express.”
After pausing for a moment to gather her thoughts, Liv continued, her gaze unwavering yet filled with empathy. “But I need to be honest with you. As much as I value our relationship, I've realized my feelings for Jackson have deepened into something more. He's become an important part of my life, and I feel compelled to explore where this connection may lead.”
Her words were careful, considerate of Michael's feelings, yet firm in their honesty. “I never wanted to give you the wrong impression or hurt you. You deserve to know where my heart lies, and I hope you can understand and respect my decision.”
Michael listened intently as Liv spoke, his expression a mix of surprise, understanding, and perhaps a hint of sadness.
Silence lingered between them for a moment as he tilted his head. “Liv,” he began, his voice steady, “I appreciate your honesty. Your friendship means the world to me, and I value the bond we share.”
He paused, his gaze meeting hers with warmth that belied the bittersweet moment. “While it's hard to hear, I understand. I want nothing but happiness for you.”
“Thank you, Michael.” She hugged him and saw him to the door.
Assuring the house was locked tight, Liv climbed the stairs, her steps careful as she explored the unknown territory of Jackson's childhood home. The first door creaked open, revealing an office adorned with memories—photographs, awards, and keepsakes that spoke of his father’s and Jackson’s lives. She felt like an intruder and quickly moved on.
Navigating the corridor, she took advantage of a conveniently placed restroom. After a brief pause, she moved onward. At the end of the hall, she discovered Jackson's mother in a peaceful sleep.
A soft chuckle escaped Liv's lips, her amusement tempered by determination. “Should've asked for directions,” she mused silently to herself.
Stepping into the adjacent room, her gaze fell upon Jackson, who was curled up in a tense, tight ball. Liv kicked off her shoes, settling in beside him. As she nestled closer, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her, taking comfort in her presence.
