I should have refused, because the thought of stepping back into that space filled me with dread, but instead I nodded.
When we returned, the house still felt wrong, heavy in a way that clung to the walls, and Miles immediately checked the hallway where the carbon monoxide detector should have been.
It was gone.
Only the outline remained where dust had not settled.
We found the second detector in the kitchen, unplugged and missing its batteries, sitting uselessly on the counter.
Miles examined it carefully and said, “This was not accidental, someone removed the power deliberately.”
In the trash, he found a receipt from a hardware store listing a flue vent kit, duct sealant, and batteries.
The realization hit hard.
Someone had purchased batteries.
And yet none were in the detectors.
PART 3
By the third day, exhaustion made everything feel unreal, as if I were watching events unfold through thick glass instead of living them directly.
My parents remained unconscious, and the doctors spoke cautiously about oxygen deprivation and neurological impact, using clinical language that felt detached from the emotional weight of the situation.