After burying my wife, I finally unlocked the barn she had never allowed me to enter. For 37 years, it had been sealed off, a place she insisted held nothing but old tools and useless clutter. I expected dust, silence, and memories long forgotten.

For twenty minutes, Walsh walked us through everything. I described waking to smoke, trying to get Brian out, being trapped with flames closing in. Brian corroborated the timeline. Then Walsh’s voice became formal.

“I also need to inform you that Dennis Patterson has given a full confession to three separate incidents targeting Brian Patterson.”

My heart sank.

“He admitted to spreading rumors about Brian’s background, tampering with farm equipment, deliberately causing Mr. Brian Patterson’s fall that resulted in three broken ribs and a concussion, and setting the fire last night. He’s been very forthcoming about all of it.”

Brian closed his eyes.

I felt something inside me crumble.

“What happens now?” I asked.

“The district attorney will file charges. Likely multiple felonies, reckless endangerment, and related charges. Dennis will face prosecution.”

Walsh’s expression was sympathetic.

“His actions last night saving you both will be part of the record and may influence sentencing, but it doesn’t erase what he did before.”

After Walsh left, I stood.

“I need to see him.”

“Paul…”

“I need to see my son,” I repeated.

Brian nodded, understanding.