We walk further in. Dark, unbelievably dark. Creepy dark. But I know that for Hannah and her family the remains of their burned home constitute a religious site, sanctified by the daily unearthing of melted toys, sooty clothing, and water-stained photographs. It's the only reason the fire officials allow them back in here. Despite the dangers inside, indicated by the big red X sign stapled onto the front clapboards, they are fulfilling the mandate of every major religion: to worship their dead. Public safety has its bounds, but certain latitudes are given where the needs of a grieving family are concerned.
The house is a shambles, much more than you'd imagine a killing fire would create.
The investigators, Hannah whispers. They tore apart everything.