He had purchased the property eight years earlier after his wife, Laura, died. The house had been her favorite place in the world, especially during winter, when she would sit beside the fireplace with a blanket over her knees and a mug of tea balanced in her hands.
After her death, Daniel had considered selling the property. Instead, he stayed, repairing the roof, restoring the original wood floors, and preserving the fireplace she loved.
Brenda knew that history.
She had attended the neighborhood meeting where Daniel explained why he wanted to keep the chimney. She had even nodded sympathetically when he described the memories attached to it.
Now she was standing beside his house with concrete on her gloves, looking pleased with herself.
Daniel took out his phone.
“I'm calling the police.”
“Fine,” Brenda snapped. “And while you're at it, you should probably call a contractor. That chimney is finished.”
She turned toward her luxury SUV, parked across the street, and began brushing snow from her sleeves.
Daniel dialed emergency services.
He had barely finished explaining the situation when his phone vibrated violently in his hand.
An emergency alert filled the screen.
EMERGENCY EVACUATION NOTICE — CARBON MONOXIDE HAZARD. LEAVE THE BUILDING IMMEDIATELY.
Daniel's expression changed.
He looked at the alert, then toward his front door.
Brenda noticed his silence.
“What now?” she demanded. “Are you going to tell the police I hurt your feelings?”
Daniel didn't answer. He was listening to the dispatcher.
“Sir,” the operator said, her voice suddenly sharper, “our system is reporting a possible carbon monoxide accumulation at your address. Are you currently inside the residence?”
“No. I'm outside.”
“Is anyone else inside?”
Daniel's stomach tightened.
His elderly neighbor, Mrs. Evelyn Brooks, had come over earlier that morning. Her heating system had failed during the night, and Daniel had invited her inside while he arranged for a repair technician. She was sitting in his living room, drinking coffee and waiting for him to return from the garage.
“She may still be inside,” Daniel said. “She's seventy-eight.”
“Do not reenter the building. Move away from the structure and tell the other occupant to evacuate if you can do so without exposing yourself.”
Daniel turned toward Brenda.
“Get away from the house. Now.”
She rolled her eyes.
“You're being dramatic.”
“There's a carbon monoxide warning.”
“Your phone probably picked up some neighborhood alert. It has nothing to do with my work.”
Daniel ran toward the front door before remembering the dispatcher's warning. He stopped on the porch, shouting through the doorway.
“Evelyn! Get outside! Right now!”
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the interior carbon monoxide alarm began screaming.