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“I’m on my way,” I say.

Tristan appears at his bedroom door.

“Thanks for last night,” I tell my friend. “There’s been an incident at the development site. I’ve got to go.”

“Anytime. You’ve put me up enough,” Tristan says. “I hope everything is okay.”

I smile.

Ain’t that the truth.

“Oh, and Caleb, whoever she is…”

My eyes clash with my friend's. He knows me well enough to know that drinking my issues away isnotme.

He laughs. “Don’t panic, you haven’t said anything. All I’m saying… if you need to talk… I’m here.”

I nod and turn to the door.

What the fuck?

I’ve never discussed April. They’ve always fished, known, or at least suspected something happened in New York, but I’ve never confirmed or denied.

I turn and leave, hailing a cab as soon as I hit the street. Itwill be faster than waiting for Mason to arrive. Instead, I shoot him a message telling him to meet me at Sunny Down.

“Sunny Down,” I say as I get into the back.

“Mate, I’m not sure how close you’ll get. There’s a major fire. They’ve diverted all of us.”

“It’s my building, so as close as you can make it,” I say before sitting back.

My phone buzzes again. This time, I answer it almost immediately.

“I’m on my way,” I say.

“Prepare yourself. It’s a wreck,” Wes says.

Not one to exaggerate, I hate to think about what I’m going to find.

“It’s a miracle that no one was injured. Thank God, it was during the night. According to the fire officer, there was only one woman in residence. She escaped by climbing through one of the back windows.”

“Who?”

An icy dread shoots up my spine.

There’s a mumbling on the other end of the phone.

“Your new bestie, April Wilson.”

My chest constricts.

“Is she…”

“She’s fine. She gave a statement and left. She was working late and fell asleep at her desk, according to the statement she gave to the police. And Caleb, just so you’re aware. They haven’t ruled out arson.”

Wes’s attitude towards April is grating on my nerves. He’s treading on dangerous ground. Although I have to admit, why was she on site so late? Especially on a Sunday night.

The taxi makes it in record time. Dropping me around the corner. I approach the burnt-out shell of the building that once housed the dance school, a cafe, and a garage. The smouldering building still sending toxic fumes into the air.