‘I’m going to be totally honest, Kev. I was pretty drunk – I’d had more than a few. I barely remember you coming home with me, let alone what happened after. That’s why I don’t drink. But I’d had a shit day, and I remember thinking that you were a nice guy, that I deserved a bit of nice for a change. It had been a while for me too. Since I kicked Cam out, I’ve had a little trouble trusting. When you left without a word, I actually thought you might have nicked my wallet and phone. How paranoid is that!’ Ed was aware she was babbling, and equally aware that unless he stopped her she would keep going. Nerves did that.
‘I think a little paranoia is healthy with all you’ve been putting up with. I can’t imagine staying in a place where someone keeps getting in. Have you not thought of moving?’
‘Yeah, more than once. It’s been up for sale for ages, and renting it out would barely cover the mortgage so it’s just not viable.’ She turned away as she felt her eyes well up. That’s it, cry in front of him too. Idiot.
But to give him credit, he didn’t mention it. He just put his hand on her knee in silent support. She was disappointed when his phone rang and he removed his hand to answer.
29th September, 1040 hours – Darlington University Campus
‘… and so, it is with sad regret that we must inform you all that Glen Peacock was found dead two days ago at his father’s allotment on Eastbourne. The police are conducting their investigation as we speak, and it’s quite likely they will need to speak to some of you along the way. Glen was a great student, and a pleasant young man. I know he will be missed. This lecture has been cancelled, we’ve called in some counsellors who will be here for several weeks – you don’t need an appointment. If you need to talk to someone, please seek out either the counsellors or one of the lecturers. What happened to Glen is tragic, I’m certain the police will be doing all they can to find his killer.’
Janelle sat, frozen in shock. She’d already heard a rumour that Glen was dead, but it had been just that, a rumour. His parents hadn’t answered the phone, and until it was confirmed she couldn’t believe that anything had happened. Her first thoughts were anger – How dare his parents not tell me that he’d been killed! How dare they not let me know – I was his friend, damn it. They’d been friends since junior school. Then the pain came, sweeping over her like a flood of the coldest, iciest water. It clawed its way into her heart, dragging tears from her eyes and shoving a hard lump so far down her throat she didn’t think she’d be able to breathe.
Glen was dead? Her friend was gone? She knew everyone thought she was a bitch, knew she could be a cow to anyone and everyone, but Glen was her friend. When she loved, she loved dearly – they’d been friends forever, longer than she’d known any one of the other friends sat next to her. Glancing sideways, she saw Kelly-Ann with her head buried into Ryan’s shoulder, sobbing loudly. Why is she crying? She didn’t even know Glen, not really. She wasn’t really his friend. She hasn’t shared a bed with him, giggled together over daft TV programs, listened to the same music. Beside her, Ryan Bishop looked shell-shocked. His eyes were dry, but that was the jock in him – athletic and a member of near enough every team in the university sports department, Ryan considered himself to be a tough guy. No way he’d cry over something like this – not in front of anyone, at any rate.
Janelle couldn’t take anymore. Silently, she got to her feet, ignoring the tears that streamed down her cheeks. Without saying a word to the others, she pulled her bag up onto her shoulder, ignored the stares she knew she was getting, and left the lecture hall. She needed to be alone. She needed to be away from this place. She needed… Glen.
Her chest suddenly felt so tight, she tried to draw in a breath but couldn’t. She felt a scream well up in her throat – and felt her knees hit the painted concrete floor of the corridor as she collapsed. She felt arms around her, holding her tightly and picking her up, guiding her through to the nearest room and sitting her down. Her chest felt like it was going to explode – she couldn’t seem to draw a breath. Her vision swam, blurring with lack of oxygen and the tears she couldn’t even feel. She’d never felt pain like this. What’s going on? Am I going to die too? Oh Glen… thinking his name broke her – she inhaled sharply, and the very action opened the floodgates. Sitting in the chair, with the arms of god knows who wrapped around her, she started to cry, great heaving sobs that caused her shoulders to shake uncontrollably. This isn’t fair. It’s not meant to be like this. Why, Glen? What happened to you? Come back, I need you. You’re my best friend. Please.
29th September, 1045 hours – Darlington University Campus
Satisfaction seeped through her, and she had to fight to stop herself smiling, knowing it would look strange after the news they’d just had. It had been hard, though – seeing Janelle shoot her friends evil looks before storming out of the lecture hall had made her day. She knew it had been worth killing Glen, and now she was more certain than ever that killing the rest would show Janelle just how much being a bitch impacted on other people.
She wondered where Janelle had gone, wondered if she could follow her and watch her cry. She wondered how she cried – whether she wailed, or whether she sobbed softly. Glancing around, she saw that many of the students were weeping, all mourning the loss of Glen – popular little Glen with his stupid dimples and floppy hair. Glen who nicked bikes and shagged lasses in a manky allotment site. Smug now, she knew she’d done the right thing. As well as getting to Janelle, there was one less scumbag in the world.
Sitting back in the seat, she feigned shock, knowing that she was under scrutiny. She even managed to fill her eyes with water by pinching the soft pad between her thumb and index finger with her nails of the other hand. Beside her, her two friends also sat in shock, their eyes wide with the horror and understanding of what they’d been told. Glen had been murdered. It didn’t matter who had been murdered, just that the very act itself had been committed. Murder. It was a heinous word. Just the mention of it struck fear into most people. It caused debates on who could do such a thing, who could physically take someone else’s life.
She didn’t really know what the big deal was to be fair – she didn’t like Glen – he may have had some things going for him with his good looks, and the bad boy tattoos he had on his upper arms, but he was nothing more than a dirty little thief. He had deserved to die. As her friends stood to leave the hall, she stood with them, and hung her head to hide the small smile passing over her lips.
She’d find Janelle later, watch as grief consumed her. Then it would be time to swoop in and intensify the grief even further by killing at least one more of the stupid little coven she hung around with. Her smile widened at the use of Janelle’s own insult.
One day soon, the bitch would pay.
29th September, 1050 hours – Darlington University Campus
Janelle had finally managed to draw breath and look up at the person who’d picked her up off the floor. Adam Sutton – one of the biology lecturers. She almost cringed. With his shaved head and tattoos, he didn’t look like the average university lecturer. His teaching style was unique too, his lectures often consisting of what he called ‘research through impression’ – it involved watching videos to illustrate his teachings, or hearing him talk about his dog and it’s antics, and how they related to the real world.
He looked troubled, like he wanted to say something. But she didn’t want to hear it. She needed to get out of this place.
Pushing the chair back, she stood. ‘Thanks for picking me up, I’m OK. I’m just going to head home.’
‘Well OK, Janelle, but remember what the dean was saying – if you need to talk, just hunt me out. I’ll be happy to listen.’
Janelle nodded, then turned and left the room, walking into the throng of people now leaving the lecture hall, and almost knocking Kelly-Ann off her feet.
‘Are you OK, Janelle? I can’t believe this. I mean, Glen was just here like yesterday. I can’t believe he’s gone. I wonder when the fune
ral will be, whether we’ll be allowed to go. I wonder if it’ll be an open casket. My nan had one of those. All a bit creepy if you ask me.’
Janelle froze at Kelly-Ann’s flippant remarks. ‘Nobody did,’ she said through gritted teeth.
‘Eh? Nobody did what?’
Janelle threw her hands up in the air – anything to stop her idle hands slapping Kelly-Ann across her rouged cheek. ‘I’m going home. I’ll text you later. Tell Ryan I said bye.’
Janelle stormed off, leaving her friend with a confused look on her face. She couldn’t cope with Kelly-Ann on her own at the best of times – she was a hanger-on, a groupie, essentially. Ryan had started seeing her about six months before, and since then Kelly-Ann Ward had integrated herself into the group. She must be good in the sack though, can’t imagine Ryan wanting a thick shit like her for anything else.
She got to her car, started the engine, and pulled off, her tyres squealing and leaving a trail of black rubber on the tarmac. This wasn’t a day for driving carefully. She wanted to feel something. She needed to feel something.
Opting for something of the substance variety, she drove over to Andy’s house. He’d give her something on tick. She was sure of it. Her loan hadn’t come through yet and she was skint. And unfortunately, drug dealers didn’t take credit cards. Still, it’d be worth a blow job to get what she wanted.
Pulling up outside his house though, she paused – something didn’t look right. The front door was all charred, black scorch marks spreading up the paintwork towards the boarded broken window that had been there for as long as she’d known Andy. What the hell?
Jumping out of the car, she locked the doors – you could never be too careful, especially round here on this estate.
She wrinkled her nose as she approached the door – it stank of burnt wood. Still, maybe it had just been an accident of some kind. Raising her hand, she knocked loudly.
‘You looking for Andy?’ sniffed a male who suddenly appeared at her side. He was rough looking, dressed in scruffy clothes. His eyes were surrounded by red rings and his nose was raw. Janelle knew an addict when she saw one. And she also knew what they could be capable of.
‘Andy? No I’m looking for Claire, my friend. Looks like I’ve got the wrong address huh?’
‘This is where Andy lives. Dunno any Claire. Not round ‘ere like. You got any money? I could murder a big mac.’
‘No, sorry, I’ve forgot my purse.’
‘I’ll take yer phone then,’ snarled the man suddenly, pulling a kitchen knife from inside his jacket and pointing it towards her. ‘Pretty girls like ye don’t go nowheres without a phone. Now, gizzit ‘ere. I don’t wanna cut ye, but I will if I has to.’
Silently she handed over her iPhone – this was all she needed today.
‘And the keys to yer car,’ hissed the man, waving the knife in her face.
Losing it, Janelle set her jaw. ‘Fuck off, you scruffy little freak, you’ve got my phone. Don’t push your luck.’ Opening her mouth, she screamed long and hard, startling the lad so much he dropped the knife before turning and legging it down towards the main road. She screamed again, this time grief helping her as she dropped to her knees again and, after what seemed like an eternity since she’d first heard about Glen, she sobbed, letting all of her emotions out.
8
29th September, 1130 hours – Buxton Moor Crescent, Darlington
It had taken two buses to get her up to the moor today. She figured she’d hole up outside Janelle’s house, wait for her to come home. She was just walking over to the address from the bus stop – stupidly she’d not been concentrating and had missed the nearest stop.
Glancing around to get her bearings, she realised she was near the street where the fire had been. That’s when she noticed the sirens, the police milling about all over. What had gone on now? She froze as she noticed Janelle stood with a copper, talking animatedly – she looked upset about something which was pleasing. She had no way of knowing what had gone on, but with that much police presence, she knew someone would notice her if she hung around. And the last thing she needed right now was for Janelle to see her.
Plans were already underway for her next big masterpiece. She knew who she wanted to get rid of. That horrid little Kelly-Ann. She’d sat there in the lecture hall, watching Kelly-Ann sobbing as though she was the only one who had cared about nasty Glen. Even when Janelle had left, she’d wailed like a banshee until the students stood to leave. Then suddenly her tears had stopped – obviously it was all for show. She wondered if Janelle knew how false her dwindling group of friends really was?
Dwindling – she liked that word. It meant growing less. And anything less where Janelle was concerned could only be a good thing. Deciding her time would be better spent watching Kelly-Ann than Janelle, she reluctantly withdrew. She’d wanted to see Janelle’s grief, watch her sob and cry at losing her friend. She’d wanted the satisfaction she knew seeing her enemy in floods of tears would bring.
Still, that would come. One day.
Head down, she strode past the end of the street to the next bus stop along. She’d be glad when her car was fixed. She hated getting the bus.
As she leaned against the yellow seat in the bus shelter to wait, she thought about why. She’d been about eleven at the time, and getting the bus back from school was a regular thing, when she didn’t spend her bus fare on sweets, anyway. She purposely sat near the back, usually as far away from anyone else as she could get. It had started with her wondering how well the material on the seats of the bus would burn, whether it was made of the anti-flammable material that sofas were made of.
So she’d sat at the back and played with her lighter. She managed to rig it so the cardboard she’d lit was lodged between the base and the back of the seat – giving it a little room to burn slower while she made good her escape. It was quite the wedge of cardboard, and the bit lodged in the seat held a little of the lighter’s fluid. She’d wanted to stay, hear the whoosh as the lighter fluid caught the flame. But she knew she couldn’t – she’d have been caught, and her mother had told her never to get caught. She’d called her a freak to want to see such things after the kitchen incident, made her dad beat her with a belt to try and drum the desire out of her. And eventually when her mother had realised it couldn’t be beaten out, she’d made a rule that her daughter never get caught.
So she’d reluctantly moved seats on the bus – the driver was too busy chatting to the buxom chav to even notice as she sat down behind the drivers cab screen. Seconds later she’d been thrown forward in her seat as the bus had braked. The two other passengers on the bus had screamed, and the chav had flown forward and hit the windscreen with a sickening thump. There’d been a crashing sound, the sound of metal grating, and more screams as the bus had careened into a parked car. Then the smoke came.
Plumes of thick black smoke filling the bus as the seat at the back had ignited. She’d already guessed it would be designed in such a way to limit the burn, and probably had government standards to adhere to, but she hadn’t expected there to be so much smoke. It seeped into her lungs, making her cough. And her head hurt where she’d whacked it off the screen behind the driver.
As the driver had opened the door, she’d followed the other passengers out of the bus, and then had run. Heeding her mother’s words of advice, she couldn’t get caught. She ran for ages, finally getting home and running upstairs to her room. Her head was bruised from the impact, and she’d known then, buses were not a good place to start a fire. There was too much risk. When her dad had seen the bruise, he’d demanded to know what had happened. And not wanting to get in trouble, the lies had fallen easily from her lips. By the time the bus headlines hit the newspapers the next day, her dad had already written his complaint letter to the school about her injuries sustained by slipping on a wet floor. But his concern had rapidly changed when he’d read the morning paper. It was like he instinctively knew she was somehow to blame.
That’
s when he’d started locking her up.
It seemed like ages before she finally arrived at the street where Kelly-Ann lived. If memory served, she lived in a student house. She had no desire to hurt the innocent, those not connected to Janelle in some way would escape her wrath. The house itself was a semi-detached. Next door’s garden had kids toys strewn all over it. Even if she could guarantee that Kelly-Ann was in alone, she couldn’t risk the kids. Kids shouldn’t have to see bad stuff.
Her gaze rested on Kelly-Ann’s little Renault Clio – powder blue and sparkling like it had just been washed. This would be perfect. It would take some planning, she’d need to make some calculations and consider ventilation, but she could make it work. Finding a place to perch, she watched the house.
29th September, 1235 hours – Darlington Fire Station
Heather stood outside the main doors to the fire station. Her hands were shaking, and the tears she’d held in check until now were threatening to overflow. She didn’t even know what she was doing here, not really. Until the overdose, she’d barely spoken to Ed. But her sister had told her to come to her if she needed help. And she did need help.
Her emotions were all over the shop. On one hand, she hated Glen for shagging Janelle and was berating herself for falling for him, and on the other, she’d just found out he was dead – murdered no less. The Dean hadn’t been very forthcoming on the details, just saying it had been a gruesome act of violence that nobody should have to endure. What the hell did that mean anyway? She didn’t know. But right now, she knew if she didn’t ask Ed for help, then she’d end up doing something stupid. She already had the urge to reach for the razor blades she knew she had hidden at home, and she was scared she might do it. The hospital had made it very clear that if anything else happened, she would be taken up to West Park for treatment. And there was no way Heather wanted to go into a place like West Park. It was where all the loonies went.
Watch You Burn Page 8
