by Lisa Lutz
He hopped over to Kate, wincing in pain. The sole of one foot was covered in blood. “I think I need to go to the hospital,” he said.
“Better than dead,” Kate said, dialing 911. She passed the phone to Colin. “Tell them we need a fire truck.”
Anna and George, hearing Kate’s raised voice, emerged from the tent and took in the blaze. Before anyone could think unthinkable thoughts, Kate unzipped the children’s tents and made sure all four were safe. Carter was still in a dead sleep; the faint bass sounds from his earbuds could be heard as he curled into a ball. Children could sleep through anything, she thought. Kate breathed for the first time in hours, it seemed.
As more windows burst into the air, raining glass onto the Fury lawn, Kate realized the fire had spared her the trouble of cleaning out Lena’s home. She also realized that Colin had no idea how to properly extinguish a flame. George stared at the violent blaze and could think only of her children safely zipped up in their tent. She wished just for a brief second that Edgar’s house would burn to the ground so she and her boys could set up camp in his backyard and live under the stars.
Anna thought that she should feel more, watching her childhood home burn to the ground. The idea that all the memories the house contained would turn to dust somehow released her. Her secret room, her mother’s letters, the pink gown she wore to Colin’s wedding and the black dress from Malcolm’s funeral, all tucked away behind those doors. Soon they would be gone forever, and maybe, with the physical memory in the form of dust, her own memories would fade. And she thought the flames were breathtaking. How could nature come up with colors so fantastic, like that Montana sky Kate had once told her about. She also thought it was a miracle she hadn’t dabbled in arson as a child. Then she wondered how the fire started. And she remembered the man responsible for all fires.
“You know whose fault this is?” Anna said. “Teddy Fucking Roosevelt.”
Acknowledgments
I wrote the first few chapters of How to Start a Fire at the beginning of 2006, right before I sold my first novel, The Spellman Files. While the Spellmans took over my universe for the next several years, I never forgot about this book. I’d revisit it in small doses until I finally had the chance to dedicate myself to it full time. I can’t claim that I spent nine years working on this book, but it’s the novel I’ve lived with the longest, and I am indescribably grateful to finally see it published. Along the way, many people read drafts, provided research, or inspired me. My goal here is to not forget anyone, but I’m sure that I will. I apologize in advance.
To begin, I must thank Andrea Schultz, my amazing editor. Your dedication, humor, and relentlessness made this novel so much better than I thought it could be. You always seemed to know which direction would get me out of the woods.
Stephanie Rostan, my agent, Madam Forewoman. I owe my career to you. There’s nothing else to say.
There are many more amazing people to thank at HMH. In no particular order: Naomi Gibbs, Lori Glazer, Carla Gray, Liz Anderson, Michelle Bonanno, Laura Giannino, Beth Burleigh Fuller, Brian Moore, Lauren Wein, and Chelsea Newbould. You have all been amazing. And thank you, Michaela Sullivan, for the phenomenal jacket design.
My wonderful agency, now Levine Greenberg Rostan: I love you all. Thank you, Melissa Rowland, Elizabeth Fisher, Monika Verma, Miek Coccia, Daniel Greenberg, Jim Levine, Tim Wojcik, Jamie Maurer, Kerry Sparks, and Shelby Boyer. Meet me at the Brigadoon bar in seven years.
A huge thanks to my doctor/copyeditor Tracy Roe. I cannot believe my good fortune in having you on board. Your advisement was invaluable.
There are two friends/copyeditors I must single out for the cruel number of drafts I forced them to read over the last few years. Clair Lamb and David Hayward, I am very grateful for your wise counsel and your restraint in mocking my limited grasp of the English language.
Thanks to all of the other friends who beta-tested my book: Anastasia Fuller, Julie Ulmer, Steve Kim, Morgan Dox, and Ronnie Konner.
Kate Golden, thank you for your obsessions.
Lisa Chen, thank you for your illegible letters.
No doctors were injured in the writing of this book, but several were troubled repeatedly. I would like to thank you all for generously answering my questions: Drs. Josh Bazell, Jonathan Hayes, Sarah Lewis, and Julie Jaffe.
I would like to thank my family for being awesome and present and for other things too. Especially my Aunt Beverly, but also my Uncle Mark, Uncle Jeff, Aunt Eve, and cousins Dan and Lori and Jay Fienberg.
I would also like to thank the awesome community of crime writers that I’m fortunate enough to be a part of. There are too many people to list here (and it would probably seem like name-dropping). You know who you are. I am very lucky to know you people.
Lastly, I’d like to thank all of my friends, especially the female ones, the weird friends, the ones who inspired the book by being unique and strange and completely of themselves. I won’t name names, but some of you are even weirder than I am, and that has always brought me great comfort.
About the Author
LISA LUTZ is the New York Times bestselling author of the Spellman Files series and Heads You Lose (with David Hayward). Lutz has won the Alex Award and has been nominated for the Edgar Award for Best Novel. She lives in upstate New York.
