Chapter 3Watching Them Burn From Paradise

The next day, while Connor and I were soaking in a private hot tub overlooking the lush green cliffs of Kauai, I lazily pulled up the condo’s camera feed on my phone.

Martha was crouched in the hallway, lovingly counting her flattened boxes. "Three more days," she muttered to the empty air, "and this'll fetch a hundred bucks."

Arthur stepped out of his unit, lugging a heavy stack of yellowing newspapers bound in twine. He dropped them next to her cardboard mountain with a heavy thud.

"Here you go, Martha. Been saving these all week. Toss 'em in with your haul, alright? And don't worry, I'm keeping an eye out. Harper won't dare pull another stunt."

Martha glanced at the newspapers, her brow furrowing slightly. "These aren't packed tight enough, Arthur. They take up too much volume for their weight. But... thank you. For watching out for that girl."

Arthur grinned, entirely missing her subtle complaint. "Hey, what are neighbors for? That Harper girl is something else. So selfish. If she shows her face around here looking for trouble, we'll give her a piece of our minds."

As they were talking, Kyle, a twenty-something guy from the fourth floor, sauntered down the stairwell. He was swinging a battered canvas tool bag.

He walked straight up to Martha, flashing an easy, practiced smile. "Hey, Mrs. Higgins. Heard your hallway outlet blew out and you can't charge your phone out here. I do a little electrical work on the side. Want me to take a look?"

Martha froze, then her eyes lit up with predatory relief.

"You know how to fix it? Oh, thank god. It just went dead yesterday, and management said it would take an electrician three days to get out here. My battery is practically dead."

Kyle squatted next to the outlet. He poked at the plastic faceplate, tapped the extension cord, and then let his eyes drag over the massive pile of valuable recycling. He leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Look, the socket's fried. Short-circuited. It needs a whole new plate. But this cord of yours is pretty beat up anyway. It's risky resting it right on the paper like that. Tell you what—how about I splice a new wire directly into the main line for you? Safe, easy, and you won't have to wait to charge your stuff."

Watching the feed, a dry, cynical smile touched my lips.

Kyle wasn't being a good Samaritan. He was a known grifter in the building, a handyman dropout who was always looking for a quick buck. He saw the mountain of cardboard and wanted his cut.

Martha immediately grew defensive. "How much is that going to cost me? I don't have cash just lying around."

Kyle waved her off, gesturing vaguely at the boxes. "Hey, we're neighbors. We don't need to involve cash right now. You've got quite the haul here. Once you cash it in at the center, just slide me ten or twenty bucks as a finder's fee. Call it labor."

Martha's hesitation vanished the second she realized she didn't have to pay upfront. She nodded vigorously.

"Deal! Absolutely. Once I sell the scrap, I'll make sure you're taken care of. Just fix it quickly, please."

Kyle unzipped his tool bag and pulled out a length of scavenged, heavy-duty wire.

Even through the camera lens, I could see how bad it was. The thick black rubber insulation had been stripped away at the center, leaving a nasty tangle of raw, frayed copper exposed to the open air.

Arthur, standing a few feet away, frowned.

"Hey, Kyle. That wire looks completely stripped. You sure it's safe to run that right over the cardboard?"

Kyle dusted off his jeans, his tone dripping with unearned confidence. "Arthur, man, you don't know the first thing about electrical work. It looks rough, but it carries a current like a dream. Besides, we're just talking about charging a cell phone. What's the worst that could happen? I used to rig these setups on construction sites all the time. Never had a single issue."

Martha chimed in immediately, eager to keep her free labor. "Exactly! Kyle knows what he's doing. He's a professional. It's fine!"

Joanne, emerging from her unit with a cardboard box full of old children's toys, caught the tail end of the conversation.

"If Kyle says it's safe, it's safe. Here, Martha, add this to the pile."

Martha smiled, graciously accepting the box.

Kyle proudly packed up his tools, giving Martha a final, pointed look. "Alright, you're all set. If the connection gets spotty, just jiggle the wire a bit. And don't forget my cut when you cash in."

"I won't! Promise!" Martha called out.

The moment Kyle was out of sight, Martha eagerly shoved her phone charger into the newly rigged, jury-rigged power strip at the end of the spliced wire.

As her screen lit up with the charging icon, she looked over at Arthur and Joanne, utterly vindicated. "See? Kyle is a godsend. Not like that stuck-up Harper, always trying to make my life miserable."

Arthur and Joanne murmured in agreement, the danger of the exposed copper wire already entirely forgotten.

On the screen, right where the raw wire rested against a highly flammable, dry cardboard flap, tiny flecks of ash were already beginning to drift toward the floor.

The countdown had officially started. The fire wasn't a possibility anymore. It was an inevitability.