Watch You Burn

by KA Richardson

  She made her way down the hall to the kitchen – again nothing was out of place.

  The staircase was curved, and grandly decorated with gilded rails and spindles. It looked out of place – too over-the-top even for one of the houses on Park Lane which always seemed large. As she reached the top, she stopped again to listen.

  Nothing.

  Her heart threatened to beat itself out of her chest as she wandered round the upstairs of the house. Ryan’s room was obvious – a poster of Drowning Pool on the door.

  Did she dare open the door and look inside? What if he was there and reading or something? She felt unprepared – yet she had the strangest feeling she had to look.

  She placed her backpack on a chair beside a small lamp table on the landing and removed one of the Molotov cocktail bottles. She unscrewed the top and pushed the rag inside, making sure the rag soaked up some fuel. Putting the lighter between her fingers and the bottle left her other hand free to open the door.

  The handle moved silently and allowed her access.

  A familiar smell assaulted her nostrils – shit and piss, and the sweet undertone of something else.

  Susie gasped loudly as she saw him, the shock causing her fingers to lose their grip on the bottle which hit the hardwood floor and smashed instantly.

  Ryan watched from dead eyes, swinging gently from the self-made noose he’d somehow rigged to the wardrobe.

  ‘Shit,’ she whispered, glancing at him again and then at the mess on the floor.

  The smell of the lighter fuel mingled with the body odours coming from Ryan making her feel sick.

  What to do now though? She couldn’t just leave the bottle – it had her fingerprints on for one thing. But Ryan was already dead – setting a fire would be pointless now.

  She wrung her hands together as she always did when she was stressed.

  Think, think.

  Her hands made fists and she pounded her temples for a moment before finally glancing up, a smile now on her face.

  Just because she hadn’t killed him didn’t mean people didn’t have to believe she’d killed him. Fire destroyed everything. It would be hard for any pathologist to pinpoint a hanging when the body was burned beyond all recognition – right?

  And all these hardwood floors would provide the most excellent fuel source.

  Adrenaline pumping she addressed the first problem at hand – Ryan. If she left him there and used him as one ignition source then eventually the fire would burn through the rope and leave him on the ground where she needed him – he was too big for her to move anyway and besides, she didn’t want the stains covering his crotch and backside anywhere near her.

  Where she’d spilt the fuel in the doorway would make a good second ignition point – the fuel had already soaked into the cracks between the floor boards – another cocktail there to allow for evaporation and the doorway fire would do what she wanted and spread. The other combustibles just served to further enhance the fire.

  Nodding now, she felt the excitement shudder through her.

  Grabbing her backpack, she gathered the bottle with fuel in ready to pour it over Ryan. But something made her pause – she had never seen a dead body before and stood in front of him, looking.

  His skin had turned blue grey and his eyes were opaque with a little fluid congregating in the corners. His mouth was open with his purple tongue sticking out through his lips. Where the noose was around his neck, the skin had mottled and turned black. Bloating had started too, distorting his features with puffiness.

  Part of her wanted to touch him – he looked like a mannequin and in the back of her mind, he didn’t look quite real.

  Shaking her head, Susie continued with her plan.

  Stepping back to avoid splashes from the fuel, she made sure he and the rope were coated thoroughly. Seeing his suicide note on the bed, she paused a second to read it.

  ‘Mum and Dad,

  I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. Kelly-Ann was the love of my life. I need to be with her.

  I’m sorry I was such a failure – doesn’t seem like I could do anything right.

  My heart just hurts so much. Tell Janelle I’m sorry too – I just can’t take anymore.

  Love always, Ryan.’

  She stared at the words – how had he been a failure? He’d loved Kelly that much that living without her was the only option he could see?

  The lump in her throat came from nowhere, surprising her. She hated Ryan – why should she give a rat’s arse how he felt when he died. But for some reason she did.

  She let the note flutter back onto the bed – she didn’t need to kill him, he’d already done that. She found herself doubting whether burning the house down was the best plan – granted it would give Ryan’s parents someone to blame. And she would still get the frisson of excitement from seeing the flames. But strangely, the urge wasn’t there. It was as if Ryan had somehow taken it with him by killing himself. Whatever he had done to her, it had hurt him a lot more losing Kelly-Ann. And that in itself was satisfying.

  She backed out of the room and noticed the broken bottle again, smelled the fuel that was now starting to evaporate. She couldn’t just leave it. She made her way down to the kitchen and found a dust pan and brush in the utility room. In cleaning up the broken bottle the fuel would evaporate and not even smell within an hour or two. She closed the front door behind her, and it was like she’d never even been inside. Pulling her hood tighter over her face, she dropped her gaze, and made her way home.

  20

  Heather’s head hurt and her hand wouldn’t stop throbbing. Right about now she’d give anything to have the cast taken off so her skin would stop itching and the bones stop pulsing every time she moved.

  After being told not to attend uni for a week, she’d had nothing to do but stare at all the stuff relating to the killings. She had finally realised one thing – Janelle was the central point.

  Did that mean Janelle was the killer? Heather didn’t answer her thought – she’d been doing way too much of that lately – questioning herself then answering.

  Shaking her head didn’t help either.

  Maybe if she could speak to Janelle, ask her what was going on and see if she got any direct vibes that Janelle was the killer she could… what? Go to the police? Like they’d believe you anyway.

  ‘No,’ she muttered, ‘Maybe they wouldn’t believe me. But at least I’d know. I’d know who killed Glen.’

  Tears glistened again in her eyes. It was all she could do at the moment to get through the day without crying. It wasn’t even like they’d been dating long. She’d been off her food too: everything made her feel sick. Another side-effect of grief. She might not have been with him for long, but she did love him. He was her first. She’d never told him that, of course, not directly anyway. You didn’t just admit to being a virgin nowadays. Especially not when you were in your twenties. It was just assumed you’d been there and done it.

  Heather smiled softly – he’d have had a fit if he’d known he’d taken her virginity in the back of his car. She would have told him one day, maybe, when they’d been together longer and both of them had opened up about their relationship. She’d thought they had all the time in the world.

  Another tear snuck out of her eye and fell down her cheek but she steeled herself this time. No more. No more hiding in her room crying, no more accepting other people bitching about her. She was a strong woman: if Ed believed she was, then surely it was time she believed it herself.

  Taking the biggest step yet, she went to the bathroom, retrieved the razor blade from its hiding spot and ran downstairs to the bin outside. Realising it was sharp, and could cause a danger to someone sorting out the rubbish, she went back inside and wrapped it in some kitchen roll, before putting it in the bin.

  When she closed the lid it felt like a weight had been lifted, like she was entering a new chapter. One where she was in charge of how she felt.

  Heather made a quick coffee
then headed back up to her laptop. She wasn’t as savvy as Chloe on computers but surely it couldn’t be that hard to find Janelle’s address.

  After an hour, though, she gave up and grabbed her mobile.

  Taking a breath, she pressed the dial button.

  ‘Hello.’ Chloe’s voice sounded in her ear, soft, unsure and sad. Heather felt guilty for not calling her earlier.

  ‘Hi, Chloe, it’s me. Listen I need to apologise. I’ve not really been on this planet since… well, I just wanted to ring you. I miss you. Are you OK?’

  She could hear Chloe stifling a sob. ‘I miss you too. I’m sorry I sided with Susie – I should’ve known I could be friends with both of you. Are you at home?’

  ‘Yeah, you wanna come over? I could use your help with a little side project if you’re up for it?’

  ‘I’ll be round in half an hour,’ replied Chloe. ‘Heath, I’m sorry. I never told you I was sorry for Glen – I guess I was kind of in shock and then Susie said… well anyway, I’m just sorry. He wasn’t like the rest. I knew that too.’

  Heather felt tears clog her throat again. Sniffing, she breathed deeply. ‘See you soon, Chloe.’

  7th October, 1605 hours – Heather’s residence

  ‘You did it, Chloe! You managed to get Janelle’s address.’ Heather smiled widely, rubbing her hand up and down Chloe’s arm. ‘I couldn’t have done that in a million years. You are awesome.’

  Chloe just smiled hitting print on Heather’s laptop. ‘What’re you gunna do now?’

  ‘I’m going over to Janelle’s. It’s about time we had a little heart-to-heart don’t you think? I need to know if she killed Glen, and if she didn’t, why it all seems to link back to her. Are you coming?’

  Chloe shook her head, ‘I can’t – promised Mum I’d go see Grandad in the care home with her. She’ll kill me if I back out again – besides he doesn’t have long left now. I need to see him before he passes.’ Her voice clogged with emotion and Heather pulled her friend into a bear hug. She knew Chloe’s grandad meant the world to her – she’d be devastated when his time came. He’d been hanging on by a thread for ages now. She knew Chloe’s parents went to the home every day. She felt even worse now – in the midst of everything she’d totally forgotten her friend was going through crap too.

  ‘I’m sorry, Chloe, I haven’t been there for you much over the last few weeks. I should never ignore texts from you or Susie.’

  Tears filled Chloe’s eyes. ‘It was hard – not knowing about you and Glen, but then Susie yelled at you and that was it. I didn’t hear from either of you – I know you had shit going on, so that was OK. But I don’t get why Susie wouldn’t speak to me.’

  ‘Probably my fault too – I’ll apologise to her tomorrow. Let me deal with Janelle and then I’ll make sure everything’s sorted out.’

  Chloe nodded.

  Clambering out of Heather’s hug, she took her bag and headed off.

  Heather grabbed her handbag and car keys – now she had Janelle’s address, she needed to talk to her. Enemy or not, tonight there were no holds barred. She would find out what was going on and who killed Glen. And if that meant a cat-fight with Janelle then so be it.

  7th October, 1635 hours – Janelle’s residence

  Janelle jumped when someone knocked at the door. She hadn’t left the house in days despite her earlier decision to sort things out herself. The truth was that she just didn’t have the strength. Her whole body felt like it hurt – dark bags sat under her eyes and she had constant acid in her stomach that no amount of Tums would shift. She’d barely eaten in weeks – her clothes hung off her and it was like they were meant for someone else.

  Momentarily, she contemplated not answering the door. Then realised it could be the police, or someone from the hospital bringing her mum back. Or maybe it was even Ryan – he hadn’t replied to her texts for a couple of days: maybe he was finally coming round to see her. Slowly she got to her feet and by the time she got to the door, the person on the other side had knocked again.

  ‘Give me a minute,’ she grumbled loudly as she turned the key and unlatched the dead bolt.

  Janelle’s eyes widened with shock when she saw Heather stood on the other side.

  ‘What do you want?’ Janelle knew she sounded like a bitch. If anything, she meant to. The locket in the box she’d been left was Heather’s. There was a chance she had killed Glen and Kelly and had been taunting her ever since.

  ‘I just want to talk,’ said Heather, holding her hands out in front of her.

  ‘Talk?’ spat Janelle. ‘How the hell did you find out my address? And better yet, what the hell makes you think I’d want to talk to a piece of shit like you? You think you’re funny leaving that box for me with your stupid necklace in it? And Glen’s badge?’

  Grief overcame her nastiness much more suddenly than she’d hoped and Janelle leaned against the door jamb, fully aware that she looked devastated. Broken.

  ‘I don’t know what box you’re on about. And I know you hate me. But I need to know, Janelle. Did you kill him? Did you kill Glen?’

  Janelle was confused. What did Heather mean? Surely she didn’t think… if Heather thought Janelle had killed Glen then Heather couldn’t have? Unless this was another mind game. Janelle just didn’t know anymore.

  With a sigh, she pushed the front door open further and nodded to Heather, silently inviting her inside.

  ‘I’d offer you a drink but we don’t have anything in – only council pop, if you want that.’

  ‘No, I’m OK thanks.’ Heather paused, obviously unsure of what to say. She sat down on Janelle’s sofa, curling her legs under her like she belonged there.

  Surprisingly, it didn’t piss Janelle off.

  ‘I didn’t kill Glen,’ Her own voice sounded small and far away, like it belonged to someone else. She’d had enough – she couldn’t cope with anymore fighting. Or anything else.

  ‘Me neither. But I want to know who did. Wanna help me?’

  Janelle nodded, still suspicious but also curious now. ‘Aren’t the police looking into his death? They said they’d ring me when they found something. They said… ’ she paused, remembering it had been days since she’d heard anything from the police. They might have someone locked up for all she knew. ‘What do you mean do I wanna help?’

  ‘Maybe if we look at everything together, we can figure it out. I mean two heads are better than one right? Do you have a table? I’ll spread it all out and show you what I have. You can add what you know and we can go from there. OK?’

  Nodding, Janelle made her way through to the kitchen with Heather in tow. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. It sure beat waiting around for the killer to come to her, since she was next on the list.

  7th October, 1900 hours – Edina’s residence

  Edina shivered in the passenger seat of Kevin’s car. She needed to go inside – needed clothes and some other stuff. She knew Adam was still locked up, and that there was a car with detectives in somewhere in the street behind her, but she was still nervous.

  What if Cam was inside? The shiver turned into a full-blown shudder.

  She knew bomb squad had already swept her home in case he’d put anything inside, not that he had a key, but still. She felt like she could see monsters lurking in every shadow.

  Ed hated the way Cam had made her feel – even now, hours after she’d found out and was armed with the knowledge she wasn’t on her own, the very thought of running into her ex terrified her. Not just for herself, but for Kevin too.

  The sooner Cam was arrested the better. Then she’d be able to lower the price on the house and hopefully get a quick sale, and be able to move on from this chapter of her life. Hopefully with Kevin. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t mind her moving in – it had all happened fast, more through necessity than anything else, but right now she couldn’t see herself anywhere but with him. Maybe later she’d broach the subject with him, make sure they were on the same page.

  She
looked at the house she used to call home. Nestled in the middle of other terraces, it wasn’t big or grand by any standards. But it had been hers. Now it felt like it was just a storage container with her stuff inside.

  Sighing, she reached for the car door handle. The sooner she got this over with the better.

  By the time she stood upright, Kevin was beside her, his hand holding steady on her arm.

  ‘Ready?’ he asked, leaning down and planting a soft kiss on her forehead.

  Leaning into him for strength, she nodded firmly.

  The front door opened as it always had – nice and easy. The smell that greeted her was the same as it always had been – jasmine and moonflowers – from the numerous motion-sensitive sprays dotted about the place. The glow from the street lights outside illuminated the hall cabinet as it always did. She used to find it comforting that there was light there to show her the way. Now though, she wanted to slam the door and keep the rest of the world out. Or better yet, leave and never come back.

  ‘Can you do me a favour? Will you empty the fridge while I run upstairs and grab some clothes? The stuff in there must be pretty rank by now.’

  Kevin nodded, but as she went to walk away, he pulled her close and held her tightly for a minute. ‘If you need anything just holler,’ he whispered against her hair. She knew he didn’t like it anymore than she did.

  Her feet felt heavy as she made her way up to her room – everything still looked the same. Except the wardrobe door which was partially open – she knew she’d left it closed. It took her a minute to remember that bomb squad had been in her home – more strangers traipsing through. She purposely avoided looking at the hatch to the attic.

  God, she hated this house.

  It didn’t take her long to pack a suitcase of clothes, undies and PJs – she even remembered her fluffy bed jumper. She grabbed the small amount of jewellery from her top drawer and finally turned to go back downstairs.

  That’s when she heard it. A scuffle up in the attic. Was that a shoe fall? She cocked her head to one side, concentrating. A thump followed by a grunt from downstairs made her jump, obviously Kevin had caught his foot or something. But nothing else sounded from the attic. Had she just imagined it? Was she that paranoid now?