Momentarily, a wave of guilt washed over her. Her friends trusted her – she could see Heather from where she stood. If they ever found out what she’d done… they’d understand. She knew they would. They had to – she’d done it as much for them as for her.
Subconsciously, she ran her finger down the faint scar just above her collar bone. Janelle’s fault – again. She’d been minding her own business when Janelle and that crank, Ryan, had approached her from behind and pushed her hard. She hadn’t needed to see Janelle to know it had been her. She’d flown forwards with force, her shoulder impacting on the classroom doorframe with enough force to shatter her collar bone. The scar was from the surgery she’d needed to remove the shards of bone and apply the metal plate to hold the clavicle in place.
Janelle needed to be brought down – this had gone on for long enough. She couldn’t cope with seeing her smug face anymore. She needed to rid her life of the scourge that was Janelle. And, she knew how she wanted to do it. It had come to her last night while she was lying awake on her mattress.
The perfect way to watch Janelle pay for being such a bitch, from close by. She could finally take her suit from the garage and put it to use.
She knew she had research to do – she needed to be able to gauge response times for the fire brigade, had to scope out Janelle’s crappy council house, and decide what method would be most effective. But she knew she wanted to do it there, at the place where Janelle felt most comfortable. She’d have to be careful, though – it was a big plan and it needed a lot of prep. She needed to slow down and take the time to do it properly. It wouldn’t do to rush ahead now.
Plastering a smile on her face, she approached her friends. They wouldn’t even notice the faint tinge of char around her fingernails that hadn’t washed out, wouldn’t smell the hint of smoke in her hair, couldn’t possibly know about the bottle of accelerant she carried in her bag even now.
Everyone had secrets – it was the way of life.
3rd October, 0850 hours – Darlington University Campus
Heather checked her phone for the twentieth time that morning. She knew Edina had been called in to work, her mum had dropped Ed at the fire station before taking Heather to uni. Both she and her mum had tried their best to dissuade Ed from going to work, but she’d insisted, promising to text both Heather and Joanna through the day to let them know she was OK.
She put her phone away, and glanced up as Chloe approached. They’d been friends for years, but lately she’d been a little distant. Susie had too, for that matter. Maybe they were just all starting to travel in their own directions. Heather didn’t know – even just three months before, she’d have sworn the three of them would be friends forever.
She sighed before fixing her smile in place – maybe it was her that had changed. She’d been falling for Glen, had started realising there were more important things than hiding away in one room or another talking about revenge and focusing on the negative all the time. Maybe Susie and Chloe had just picked up on it and had started distancing themselves instinctively.
As Chloe arrived at the table, Susie turned up from the opposite direction.
Heather crinkled her nose slightly in distaste – someone was burning something nearby. It was faint – whoever was burning it was probably at the allotments on the new bypass. It definitely wasn’t close. She hated the smell of fire – always had. She had no clue what about it fascinated her sister so much that she felt she had to work with it. And she had no idea why both Susie and Chloe were talking about doing a fire based assignment for their final thesis. Come next year, they’d see even less of each other than they did now. Maybe that’s not a bad thing, I want to focus on being well and feeling happier. I don’t think I can do that with the two of them around.
Sighing to herself at her thoughts, she said, ‘Let me just grab a cuppa before we go in,’ and did her best to ignore the feeling of loneliness that swept over her.
3rd October, 0930 hours – Broken Scar car park
Ed was doing a good job of working through the pain – she’d had Julia pick her up from the fire station, knowing she would pass there on her way to the arson scene anyway. The pair had sat in relative silence after some small talk, comfortable just listening to the radio.
She felt the foil covered packets of pills crinkle in her pocket as she moved towards the car, knowing she needed to take them but not wanting to impair her capability before she dealt with the scene. The pathologist had finished his preliminary, and they were all now preparing to remove the body from the car. Kevin had been sweet, telling both her and Julia that the men would get the body out. It wouldn’t have bothered her though, she knew that the skin would feel rough and callused beneath her gloves, knew that when it moved it would release the gases held inside the body, knew that the roasting pork smell would be even stronger that close to the body and that it would soak into the little hairs inside her nose, making her smell it for weeks to come. She’d avoid anything associated with pig to eat, she always felt the same after a fire death. All the same, she was glad. There was no way her back would have coped with pulling a bent body out of a vehicle.
She and Julia stood either side of the sterile groundsheet Kevin had placed next to the car door, holding it in place with their feet.
She was close enough to get a strong whiff of accelerant as they pulled the body from the car seat, close enough to see the colour of the girl’s jeans covering her bum and the tops of her legs. It was the only bit of clothing still intact, the flames burning hot enough to incinerate everything but the bit of seat beneath her.
It was definitely a female victim – she’d never seen a man wear tight fitting jeans with diamantes on the rear pockets, or a sparkly belt to hold them up.
Kevin, Jackson and Nigel laid the body on the groundsheet – it held its seated position, rigor mortis still evident. Ed found herself cringing in advance – she knew what that meant. They would need to straighten the legs of the victim to get it into the body bag for transportation to the mortuary. And when they did, two cracks sounded, echoing a little in the silence of the car park. She saw one of the cops turn a little green, and start making his way back up to the rendezvous point further up.
To his due, Kevin looked like he took it all in his stride. So did Jackson. They were both respectful, doing what they needed to do without being nasty. She was sure she could hear Kevin muttering under his breath that he was sorry too.
Zipping up the body bag, they all stepped back, allowing the girl’s body to be removed. Nigel snapped his gloves off, and confirmed he’d be doing the postmortem that afternoon.
Kevin turned his attention to her and smiled, tiredness making it more of a grin than a full smile. But she still felt her heart flutter a little. This was a nice man – there was something about him that made her certain he was nothing like Cam.
‘Didn’t expect the rigor to still be in place, must’ve been chilly last night. Come on then, sweets. Sooner we get the vehicle exam done, the sooner you can go take the painkillers you’ve been fondling in your pocket. At least I hope it’s painkillers.’ Gentle humour softened Kevin’s tone, and she smiled in response.
‘Painkillers?’ asked Jackson, ‘I could use a couple of paracetamol like, my head’s bouncing.’
‘Sorry, hon, it’s tramadol - slightly stronger than plain old over the counters, I’m afraid,’ said Ed.
‘That’ll do. Did I mention the word bouncing?’
‘He did pull a psycho last night – his headache will be his ringtone rattling round his head. Don’t give him anything – he deserves it. Drinking on a school night – tut tut.’
‘Naff off, don’t listen to him. He’s full of hot air. Was only joking about taking your tramadol anyway. I’ve got some Migraleve in the van. I’ll go take it now since my boss is taking the piss.’ Jackson backed off from the car and headed to the van, punching Kevin lightly as he passed.
Ed approached the car, wincing as she bent forward to gaze
inside. Broken bits of partially melted glass were strewn in the driver foot well, intermingled with black soot and melted plastic from the dashboard fascia. The only thing left of the ignition area was the metalwork. There wasn’t going to be a great deal that could be used to support the forensic side of the investigation, she was sure. They’d have to rely on good old police work and potential links to the accelerant used.
Pulling back out of the car, she stood slowly and turned to face Kevin.
‘Looks like a Molotov cocktail from the glass fragments in with the melted plastics. I’d say the accelerant is probably lighter fluid, though. Obviously we’ll know for sure when the mass spec comes back. Don’t think you’ll get anything off the bottle pieces but that’s your area not mine. I’ll get the report written up and sent as soon as I can. Did the DS mention what time the forensic meeting will be? I’ll try and get it whacked over before then, though that’ll depend on whether anything else comes in.’
‘Yeah it’s scheduled for 5pm. Gives Nigel a chance to get the PM done. Julia scooted back up top sharpish, bit squeamish is she?’
‘Yes, she must be. I was gunna cadge a lift back off her, but if she’s gone I’ll just ask one of the cops, it’s no issue.’
‘Are you… you know, erm, busy tonight?’ Kevin’s cheeks flushed red as he asked, obviously aware that Jackson was nearby listening in.
‘Yeah, actually I have a date. With a handsome CSM. You might know him, late thirties, pretty rugged looking, great in the sack.’ Ed grinned widely as Jackson pulled his head up suddenly, banging it on the top of the car. Kevin’s burst of laughter told her he appreciated her humour too. ‘Seriously though, yes, I’m free tonight. I’ll be at Mum’s, you remember the address?’
‘Yeah, I should be there about seven, I’ll ring you if that changes.’
3rd October, 1730 hours – Darlington Police Station
‘… deceased has been confirmed as Kelly-Ann Ward, twenty-one years old. You already know we are classing this as suspicious presently – throwing a Molotov cocktail at oneself isn’t seen as a means of suicide. So, what have we got?’
Ali directed the first question over to Slater, who promptly answered.
‘Looks like she was in a relationship with a lad we already know of, Ryan Strong, also twenty-one years. Ryan happened to be best friends with the allotment murder victim, Glen Peacock. Him, Glen, Kelly-Ann and another female, Janelle Spencer all hang around together at uni. From the earlier interviews around Glen’s death, it’s believed they are popular at school, attend all their classes and achieve decent grades. We’ve scheduled both Janelle and Ryan to attend tomorrow for interviews – when they attend we’ll seize their phones in case there’s anything incriminating on there – Tulley over at digital forensics is aware and waiting. They both seemed suitably shocked at the news of Kelly-Ann’s death, Ryan especially. I’ve also got cops down to do interviews with all the students in their class – we need to find out if anyone there has a beef with these kids or whether this is something that’s occurring in group. Maybe one of them is disgruntled – some jealousy thing. Kelly-Ann’s parents are distraught and demanding answers. At the minute we don’t have a whole lot more. Kev?’
‘Not much I’m afraid. We recovered samples of the accelerant – the fire investigator thinks possibly lighter fluid but that’ll be confirmed once the analysis comes back. The glass fragments are too degraded to get any kind of fingerprint evidence from, and the heat from the fire would have removed any trace DNA evidence. Ed thinks the person potentially knows quite a bit about fires: she states the point of ignition was the dashboard, and that the bottle was thrown through the open window on the passenger side. This seems to indicate that our victim knew the offender – enough to lower the window at any rate. There were some scraps of paper beneath the melted plastic from the dash – possibly what was used as the ignition source for the bottle. I’ve sent them off for examination – didn’t want to wreck any potential evidence by opening it out and risking it disintegrating so no idea at this point if there’s any text or anything on it. Nothing of note in the car park – it’s a regular haunt for the locals and walkers anyway so there’s generally a lot of foot and car traffic through the area. POLSA were still there when we left so don’t know if they found anything further afield. Sue, Deena and Ben came down to do the PM – according to Nigel, the victim was still alive and belted in the car at the time the fire was started. She has burns to the inside of her airways and smoke in her lungs. Doc said she’d probably have died of smoke inhalation if the fire itself hadn’t killed her.’
Kevin took a breath – it was a long-winded explanation, at the end of a very long day. Glancing down at his notes, he confirmed he had covered all of the bullet points he had penned. Nodding at Ali, he acknowledged he was done.
‘OK, since you’re all already working both murders, I want the details adding to the board in the major incident room – these two murders are too similar not to be linked in some way. I don’t believe in coincidence, as you’re all aware. Kev, get yourself off. Know you’ve had a long day, I’ll expect the reports on my desk in the morning, if they’re not there already.’
‘Already done, Ali. Folder is on top of the pile on your desk. I’ve put the thumbnail images in, the booklets will be here shortly. Mine and Jackson’s statements are there, the girls will add theirs in before end of duty tonight – providing nothing kicks off around the town that stops them getting them finished. It’ll be a day or two before anything comes back regarding the papers. The lab’s rushing through the accelerant analysis so should hopefully have something definitive tomorrow with any luck.’
Kev gathered his papers and left the room. Closing the door with a click, he leaned against the wall. Not only had it been a long day, it had been a tough one. Two dead in a matter of days. There had to be something linking the two deaths, something they could use. He had the awful feeling in the back of his mind that he’d missed something. He hadn’t – it was self-doubt, something he always felt when working cases like this. The what if’s and maybes. Giving himself a shake, he headed back down the corridor to the CSI office.
3rd October, 1920 hours – Heather’s residence
Heather had waved Edina off for her date with Kevin and retreated inside. Her mum was at work, and the house felt too quiet. It wasn’t creepy quiet, just silence. Like nothing lived there.
She was struggling – she had been over the last couple of days. Ed had warned her that another of Janelle’s crew had ended up dead, that the police would be asking questions. Ed wasn’t accusing Heather of anything, but she still felt exposed and raw. Right now she wanted nothing more than to reach for the razor blades and cut herself. It was almost a battle of wills. One side of her brain telling her it would make her feel better, would put her in control of how she was feeling, and the other side, the more rational side, telling her that doing it would be stupid, that her mum and Ed were trusting her not to hurt herself.
Trying to distract herself, she wandered into the kitchen and made a coffee. Opening the drawer to grab a spoon, she noticed the kitchen knives and paused. They were sharp: her mum always kept the kitchen spick and span, and sharpened them every few weeks. It wouldn’t take much she knew, a small motion with the blade, barely touching her skin.
Slamming the drawer shut, she left her coffee cup on the side. How can I not do this? What can I do that will stop me cutting myself? Breathing deeply, she did her best to push the thoughts back from her mind. The crisis team counsellor had told her to find something to think about – to focus on. Picking up the remote she switched the TV on.
Flicking through the channels with increasing frustration, she quickly realised nothing was going to take the feeling away tonight. Too much had happened, she missed Glen, and couldn’t help but wonder who had killed him. She barely knew Kelly-Ann, just aware of her laughing as Janelle had trapped her fingers in the door. Her death didn’t bother her so much, but at the same time she pondere
d over who could be responsible. It must be someone who hated them both – someone who knew about fire too from what Ed had let slip about accelerants.
Maybe she could help with the investigation – if she started with keeping some notes, maybe she could predict who if anyone was next, and possibly stop anything further happening.
The urge to hurt herself faded a little as she ran upstairs to her room and pulled out a fresh notebook from the box under her bed. Taking a deep breath, she wrote Glen’s name at the top of the first page.
3rd October, 1940 hours – Geneva Road, Darlington
‘I asked you a question. Did you take my car without asking?’
She heard the veiled threat under her father’s words – she was damned if she answered and damned if she didn’t. Owning up would mean he knew she had a way out of the attic, would give him opportunity to stop her getting out somehow. The thought filled her with dread. How would she continue her quest to make Janelle pay if she was confined to one room in the stupid house they claimed was a home?
Not owning up would be equally bad – he obviously knew she’d used the car. How, she didn’t know, but she’d made some mistake, not done something he normally did.
Biting the inside of her lip, she suddenly knew she’d stalled too long. He grabbed her by the arms and held her against the wall in the hallway, his cigarette-smelling breath cascading over her as he practically panted. Through gritted teeth, he repeated his question.
She shook her head slowly. ‘I didn’t take the car, please, Daddy, it wasn’t me.’
‘Then who was it? Your mother? She doesn’t have a driving licence. The cat? I’m pretty sure her paws don’t reach the pedals. That, my dear, leaves only you or me. And since I know it wasn’t me, it leaves you. Now tell the truth girl, did you take my bloody car?’
Watch You Burn Page 14
