She holds a red rose matchbook. Flicks one. Lets it drop.
"You spent fifteen years putting out fires, Hannah," she says to the empty pews. "I've spent five years starting them. We're not so different. You just never admitted you loved the heat."
"Do you remember the first time you watched a forest burn from a safe distance?" asks Firestarter Hannah. "You were nineteen. You cried. Then you went back for more. Every season. Every burn. You chased the dragon."
Her phone buzzes. Dispatch: New fire. Old St. Mary's Church. Ten minutes ago. Hannah Harper ABLAZE -Split Scenes-
Right: The roof begins to cave in. Hannah Harper — the one who exists, the one with the scar and the badge — lowers the gun. Walks forward into the heat. Through the doorway. Past her doppelgänger, who dissolves into embers as she passes.
And there, in the center aisle, stands Hannah Harper.
But in the blackened hills that night, some say they saw a figure walking into the wildlands — not running from the fire, but becoming it. She holds a red rose matchbook
Then she sees the figure standing at the top of the church steps.
The fire groans. A beam collapses behind her. She doesn't flinch. 12:03 AM. Hannah's truck.
She smiles.
"You're not real," whispers Investigator Hannah.
For a second, the world stops. No sirens. No wind. Just two Hannahs, separated by fifty yards of firelight.