Amid the chaos of a rapidly spreading fire in a quiet neighborhood, a team of firefighters rushed to combat the engulfing flames of a seemingly ordinary home. Their mission was clear: save the house and ensure no lives were at risk. However, as they prepared to douse the flames, a critical discovery shifted their entire approach, halting them in their tracks. Upon realizing what was inside the house, the firefighters made the controversial decision to let it burn. “Wait! Stop!” Captain Kobe yelled as he looked back at his truck. “Turn off the water!” all of his men looked confused because they had started putting out a house fire only minutes ago. Suddenly, two firefighters retreated out of the house after making sure no residents were inside, and their faces were as pale as ghosts. “What happened in there?” The fire was now consuming half the house, and people stood in the street to look at it. “Does anyone know who lives here or where the residents are?” Kobe asked around, but no one wanted to answer. Just when Kobe wanted to turn around, a small little girl stepped forward. “Lucy lives there,” she said quietly before her mother pulled her back. “Shush,” the mother hissed at her daughter, but Kobe had already heard what the little girl had said. “Who is Lucy?” he asked, but the girl kept her mouth shut this time, looking up at her mother. “No one talks to those people,” the mother eventually said, and she returned back inside her home immediately after.  But what started the fire? What did the firefighters see inside? And who is Lucy? When the call of the house fire haf come in early in the morning, Kobe and his team expected it to be because of a tea kettle left on the stove or something like that. But when they arrived at the house, the fire was already too big to have been caused by something so small. They got to work straight away, but there was something strange about the house. There were no people standing in the yard or close to the house, and there was no screaming from inside; there was no one home. The next through on Kobe’s mind was a gas leak, so he warned his men to keep that in mind. Two of them had to go inside to make sure there really was no one, so he sent his two finest recruits. He could hear them through an earpiece, but he couldn’t talk back. It seemed like the house was empty, judging by the lack of chaos he heard. But then something suddenly changed. “What the fuck is that,” one of the men yelled. After that, it sounded like they couldn’t get out of the house fast enough. When they emerged from the flames, they looked like they had seen something terrifying. They ran out of the house with their hands up, waving at the men to stop putting out the flames. Kobe immediately caught on and ordered everyone to stop with what they were doing. By now, the street was filled with neighbors, curious about what could be going on. “Flynn, Ben, what did you see?” he asked his men, but they struggled with putting it into words. “You’re never going to believe it,” Flynn eventually said. “You have to see it for yourself.” Kobe thought about it for a second, but he agreed. As the Captain, he should have gone into the house in the first place, but it had been a long time since he had run into a sea of flames; the last time didn’t go so well. He nodded his head confidently and suited up. The flames were still big, but they had them under control. Flynn decided to go with his captain, and the two of them ran back into the house. As soon as Kobe saw what their men had spotted in the first place, he was stunned. “Who would keep this in their house?” he mumbled. After walking back out of the house, Kobe ordered his men to let the house burn down to the ground. They all looked at each other in disbelief. That was an order no firefighter ever expected to get, but Kobe’s mind was made up. “Let. It. Burn,” he said with an eery tone. So, his men obliged and focused their attention on not letting the fire catch onto the houses around them. Kobe then turned his attention to the people standing in the street. “Which of you knows who lives here or where they are?” he yelled, looking them all in the eyes. Something had changed about his demeanor; he seemed angry and less composed than usual. Some of the neighbors quickly headed inside their homes after that question– looking a bit frightened. Kobe asked again, but this time a little girl stepped forward. “Lucy lives there,” she quietly said. Her mother was shocked when her child spoke up and pulled her back by her arm. “Who is Lucy?” Kobe asked, but the girl didn’t respond anymore; the mother had made sure of that. “No one talks to those people,” the mother eventually said, and she quickly headed back inside as well. Captain Kobe tried to ask around some more, but instead of talking, everyone headed back into their houses to avoid having to talk to Kobe; it was baffling for him. He paced the street, his boots crunching over scattered debris. “Anyone? Anything?” he shouted, but the shut doors and drawn curtains spoke volumes. The silence hung heavy; the community’s reticence was a clue in itself. “We have to find this Lucy,” Kobe told his men; but first, they had to make sure the house burned down safely and that nothing inside would survive. His team nodded, their faces grim as they monitored the flames, ensuring they didn’t spread to neighboring homes. “Keep it contained,” Kobe ordered, watching the house diminish into embers and ash. Finding Lucy was next — whoever she was. It was a two-story house, so it took almost all day for it to burn down to the ground. While it was burning, the police showed up, which was normal for a house fire. Officer Maxwell, clipboard in hand, approached Kobe. “What’s the situation?” he asked, eyeing the smoldering ruins. Kobe explained briefly, his eyes never leaving the fire that concealed more than just ashes. Kobe told Officer Maxwell about what he had discovered and about Lucy, who he wanted to find; Officer Maxwell took over the case from then on, as it was his job to track down people. “We’ll take it from here, Captain,” Maxwell said, jotting down notes. Kobe felt a mix of relief and frustration as he watched the police start their investigation into the mysterious Lucy. After assessing the scene, writing everything down, and sending forensics to the house to bag all the remains in evidence bags, Officer Maxwell returned to the station to investigate further. The street was quiet again, with only the crackle of the dying fire and the distant hum of the city. Maxwell’s car disappeared around the corner, taking the mystery of Lucy with him, for now. He logged into a database and tracked down who was registered at the address that had burned down today. Officer Maxwell sat at his desk, the computer screen casting a glow on his focused face. He typed in the charred address and waited. Names flashed on the screen—finally, a match. His pen clicked as he prepared to jot down the information he needed to pursue next. “Lucy Cohen and Jagger Peterson,” Officer Maxwell mumbled as he wrote it down in his notebook. He also figured out where Lucy worked, so he went over there next. Grabbing his jacket, he headed to the car. The drive was quick, thoughts of the morning’s fire lingering in his mind. He parked outside the local museum, where Lucy was supposedly employed, and stepped out into the chilly air. When he arrived at the local museum, he saw that it was closed while it was supposed to be open, which set off some alarm bells within him. Officer Maxwell approached the entrance, his steps quickening. A sign hung on the door: “Closed for Emergency Maintenance.” He peered through the glass doors, his brow furrowing. Something didn’t seem right. He knocked on the glass door, and as he did, he saw a faint light inside the building, all the way in the back; someone was there. Officer Maxwell pressed his face closer to the glass, trying to see past his own reflection. The light was dim, casting long shadows that danced as he knocked again, harder this time. He waited, his hand resting on his holster. He saw a shadow moving inside the dimly lit room, but after he knocked again, this time a bit more aggressive, the light suddenly turned off. Officer Maxwell stepped back, scanning the building’s facade. The sudden darkness inside made the museum look even more foreboding. He checked his watch, then knocked again, louder, his other hand reaching for his radio. “It’s the police, open up!” Officer Maxwell yelled, hoping the person inside would hear it, but the light stayed off; then he suddenly heard something. A faint scuffle, like someone trying to move quietly. He pressed his ear against the cool glass, straining to hear more. The silence hung thick for a moment before a soft click echoed from somewhere inside the building. He heard the sound of a door opening and closing just around the corner, so he walked toward the sound and saw a blond woman exiting the building; “Lucy?” he asked, and as soon as he did, the woman ran. Officer Maxwell sprinted after her, his boots thudding against the pavement. But she was quick, weaving through the dimly lit streets like a shadow. The woman’s speed caught Officer Maxwell by surprise, as she was much faster than him, and he couldn’t keep up, but she did drop something as she was running, so Officer Maxwell picked it up. It was a small object, clattering to the ground and skidding under a parked car. Panting, he bent down, retrieving a keychain with a single key attached—perhaps to her apartment or a safe box. It was a small folder with files from the museum that seemed rather important. The woman was still in sight, so Maxwell shouted at her, “If you want this back, meet me at the museum!” He waved the folder in the air, hoping it was important enough to lure her back. She paused, turning briefly to look at him, then disappeared around a corner. He returned to the museum, holding onto the folders, and sat down on the curb near his car, hoping Lucy would show up. The night air was cool, and the street was quiet except for the distant hum of city life. Officer Maxwell flipped through the folder again, his eyes scanning the documents, waiting for any sign of the blond woman or even a curious onlooker. An hour went by, and it seemed like Lucy wasn’t going to show up anymore, but then, someone turned the corner and looked Officer Maxwell in the eyes. It wasn’t Lucy. Instead, a little girl stood there, her eyes wide and fearful. She looked lost. Officer Maxwell stood up, his concern growing. “Hey there, are you okay?” he asked gently, stepping towards her. It was a little girl who looked lost, so Officer Maxwell stood up to help her, but what he didn’t notice was that he left the folder on the curb where he had been sitting, and when he returned, the folder was gone. He knelt down to the girl’s level, asking her if she needed help to find her parents, completely oblivious to the disappearing folder. “Fuck,” was the only thing Maxwell could say when he realized the girl had only been a distraction because when he turned around to find her, she was gone, and a car drove off in a hurry. His heart sank as he watched the tail lights vanish around the corner. The folder, with all its crucial contents, had vanished with them. Officer Maxwell was back at square one, so he turned his attention to Jagger Peterson, hoping he could shine a light on the situation, and he worked just around the corner. With renewed determination, Maxwell strode down the street towards the little bakery where Jagger was employed. “Maybe Jagger will have some answers,” he muttered to himself as he approached. The little bakery around the corner where Jagger worked looked open, but when Officer Maxwell tried to get inside, he noticed that the door was locked; he had to get inside some other way. He peered through the window, hoping to catch someone’s attention, but it was strangely quiet inside. Frustrated but not deterred, he started to look for another way in. Having learned from last time, Officer Maxwell walked around the back, hoping the back entrance would be open, and it was; it was wide open, which gave him a way inside. Stepping quietly through the doorway, he found himself in a dimly lit hallway that smelled strongly of yeast and sugar. He paused, listening for any sounds of movement or voices, but all was eerily quiet. Once inside, Officer Maxwell saw that the bread machine was still turning, there were pastries in the oven, and there was a cake half decorated, with a spatula on the floor like it was dropped in a hurry. Flour dusted the counter and the floor, a clear sign of a hasty departure. Maxwell moved cautiously, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of who might have left in such a rush. “You should let this case run cold,” a threatening voice suddenly said from behind, startling Officer Maxwell a little bit. He froze, his hand inching towards his gun as he took a slow breath to calm his nerves. The voice was deep and rough, filled with a menacing calm that sent a chill down Maxwell’s spine. He turned around slowly and looked right at a tall, muscled man full of tattoos; Jagger was holding a rolling pin, which wouldn’t look so threatening if a smaller man was holding it. “Jagger?” Maxwell’s voice was steady, but his mind raced. The bakery’s warm air seemed to thicken with tension as the two men stared at each other, the rolling pin an odd contrast to the situation. “You know I can’t do that,” Officer Maxwell answered as he began to reach for his gun. Just as he reached his gun, the man began to run, so Officer Maxwell fired a warning shot just above his head. The loud bang echoed through the bakery, followed by the clattering of the rolling pin hitting the floor. Jagger stopped in his tracks, his hands slowly raising in surrender. The man stopped cold with his hands up in the air, and Officer Maxwell proceeded to handcuff him and escort him to his police car. Maxwell’s steps were firm as he led Jagger outside, the cuffs clinking softly in the quiet morning. He opened the back door of the police car and watched Jagger slide in, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Back at the station, Officer Maxwell interrogated him, but he wouldn’t say a word at first; that was when Officer Maxwell thought of something. He leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on Jagger, who sat across from him, arms folded and jaw set. Maxwell tapped his fingers on the table, pondering his next move, knowing he needed to break this silence effectively. He remembered Kobe had told him about Lucy’s neighbor, the little girl who had given the police her name. He hadn’t seen her, but maybe she knew the other little girl that he had helped in the streets. Clutching at this new lead, Maxwell decided it was worth the shot. He stood up, grabbing his keys, and headed back to the neighborhood that was still buzzing with whispers and curiosity. After driving to the neighborhood, he noticed how everyone was still very interested in the charred house, but the police and the fire department had everything taped off and were guarding the house so no one could go inside. Maxwell slowed his car as he passed by, observing the scene. A few neighbors stood watching at a distance, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity. He rang the doorbell of the little girl’s house and her mother opened the door, a little shocked to see an officer in front of her. Maxwell came straight to the point. “Good afternoon, ma’am. I need to ask a few questions about the recent events around here.” Her surprise deepened, but she held the door open, wary but listening. “May I speak to your daughter?” he asked the mother kindly, but the mother refused and wanted to close the door. That’s when Maxwell’s eyes fell on a picture hanging in the hallway—it was of the girl he had helped near the museum! His heart quickened as he pointed at the photo. “That’s her, the little girl I saw today. It’s important I speak with her.” He quickly put his foot between the door, and the mother opened it again, a little upset now; “I must speak to your daughter. I saw her wandering the streets near Lucy’s work,” the officer said, now with a more asserting tone. The urgency in his voice softened the mother’s stance slightly, her eyes flickering with concern as she hesitated, then reluctantly nodded, allowing him inside. The mother clearly didn’t know her daughter had sneaked out of the house, and she let Maxwell inside while she headed upstairs to fetch her daughter. Maxwell waited in the living room, his eyes scanning family photos that decorated the walls. Each step from upstairs seemed to echo louder as he prepared to learn what the young girl knew. The mother returned with the little girl, who looked frightened by Maxwell’s police uniform; “Tell them everything,” the mother urged her daughter. The little girl’s eyes darted between her mother and the officer, a mix of fear and relief in her gaze. She took a deep breath, clutching a small, stuffed bear to her chest as she moved to sit down. The little girl had tears in her eyes as she sat down; “They made me do it,” the little girl said through her tears, “My daddy made me do it.” Officer Maxwell was clearly stunned and looked at the mother for an explanation. The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Maxwell’s mind raced as he tried to piece together her statement with the case. The mother explained that Jagger was the little girl’s father but that she had divorced him. He didn’t want to live far away from his daughter, so he moved across the road and soon after began to date Lucy. This proximity meant he was still a big part of his daughter’s life, albeit from a distance that both protected and pained him. “Why hadn’t you told me this sooner?” Officer Maxwell asked, but the mother had no answer to that other than that she didn’t want to be associated with them. Her face was a mixture of regret and relief as she avoided his gaze. Maxwell noted her discomfort, understanding the complexity of her emotions tied to Jagger and Lucy. Officer Maxwell returned to the station and told Jagger he had spoken to his little girl, who was very upset, which turned out to be Jagger’s sweet spot, and he began to feel remorseful. His tough facade cracked, revealing a father’s concern. “I didn’t know she was involved,” Jagger muttered, his voice strained as he looked away, shame creeping into his eyes. “It’s all Lucy. Everything in that house belongs to Lucy. I didn’t even want it in my house, but she insisted,” he eventually confessed; Officer Maxwell was slowly breaking the case. The pieces began to fit together as Jagger divulged more about Lucy’s persuasive ways and her insistence on keeping things under her control, even in his space. Jagger finally revealed where Maxwell could find Lucy, so he quickly headed to the marine, where he found a little boat. It bobbed gently on the water, tied loosely to the dock. Maxwell approached cautiously, his senses heightened, ready for what might come next. The faint sound of the water lapping against the boat filled the air, a stark contrast to the tension he felt. “Hands up in the air,” Officer Maxwell said as he cornered Lucy on her boat. She knew there was no way out for her, so she cooperated. Raising her hands slowly, Lucy stepped away from the boat’s control panel, her face set in resignation. Maxwell kept his distance but watched her closely as he radioed in for backup, ensuring she made no sudden moves. Officer Maxwell took her back to the station, where Lucy briefly had eye contact with Jagger, and she didn’t seem happy at all. As they passed each other, Lucy’s glare was icy, piercing through the tension in the room. Jagger looked away quickly, avoiding further confrontation. Maxwell noticed the exchange, noting the charged atmosphere as he led Lucy to the interrogation room. Officer Maxwell used his interrogation tricks to get the truth out of Lucy; she had disturbing, illegal art, lots of it, stored in their house. “Why all this art?” Maxwell prodded, flipping through photos they’d recovered. Lucy sat silent at first, then her voice cracked, “It’s a collection of pieces no one wanted. All too shocking for anyone but me,” she declared, her defiance filling the small room. As Maxwell interviewed Jagger, he expressed that he didn’t even have the same views as his girlfriend, but every time he had tried to break up with her, she had threatened to tell the world all the art was from him. He looked defeated as he recounted the threats. “I felt trapped,” Jagger admitted, his eyes meeting Maxwell’s. The officer nodded, understanding the pressure Jagger felt under Lucy’s manipulative hold. So, when Jagger knew no one was home, he set fire to his house to hopefully burn down all the art he never wanted to be associated with. “I couldn’t see any other way out,” Jagger whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. Maxwell listened intently, his pen pausing over his notes. The revelation painted a picture of desperation and fear, leading to drastic actions. Jagger was later charged for setting the house on fire, and Lucy was charged for having the art in the first place. The legal consequences finally severed their turbulent relationship. In court, as the final gavel slammed, Lucy’s gaze met Jagger’s, filled with a mix of regret and resignation. Their paths diverged drastically, each stepping into uncertain futures shaped by their past actions. Lucy and Jagger finally broke up, as she couldn’t do anything to keep him in the relationship anymore. Without the leverage of shared secrets and manipulations, their connection crumbled. Jagger left the courtroom with a heavy heart but a sense of freedom, while Lucy was left to contemplate her solitude and the repercussions of her obsessive collection of disturbing art. The house, or what was left of it, was put up for sale and bought by a new owner who tore everything down and built a whole new house. The construction site buzzed with activity as old debris was cleared and new foundations were laid. The neighborhood watched with a mix of sadness and hope, eager to put the past behind and welcome new neighbors. Jagger was released after six months, and he began to rebuild his relationship with his daughter. They spent weekends together, starting with quiet mornings at the park and afternoons at the local ice cream shop. His daughter, cautious at first, gradually warmed up to the new, more present and engaged version of her father, their bond strengthening over shared smiles and stories.  Kobe’s decision to let the house burn down was hailed as a heroic act, and he was praised for it. The community recognized his difficult decision as one that potentially saved many lives, considering the hazardous materials involved. At a small ceremony, Kobe received commendations, standing humbly before his peers and the locals, grateful for their support and trust in his judgment.