Shadows to Ashes

by Tori de Clare

  There was a noise beginning to grow in the distance. Everyone grew still. Listened. Camilla looked up. A helicopter.

  ‘Sounds like the cavalry is arriving,’ Vincent said.

  Charlie glared icily at the guy who wasn’t Reggie and then at Vincent. ‘Give me the documents. Now! They’re mine.’

  ‘Don’t give me orders,’ he said. ‘You’ve breached my terms. I told you to stay away from the Hamiltons, and you’ve no intentions of doing that.’

  Charlie didn’t hesitate. She hurled herself right at Naomi and Vincent lowered the gun and fired. A second later and without knowing how, Naomi found her neck in a vice. Charlie was just behind her, her arm joint clamping Naomi by the throat. Breathing was intensely difficult. Charlie was groaning in pain. Had she been hit? Camilla got up and rushed forward, but the guy who wasn’t Reggie seized hold of her arm, told her to be calm. Camilla was crying out, straining to be free, and Naomi couldn’t speak. Henry looked ready to collapse.

  ‘Give me the documents or I’ll finish her,’ Charlie said. ‘You know I’ll do it.’

  ‘Don’t hurt her,’ Camilla screamed. ‘We’ll pay. Just let her go.’

  Kerry said, ‘The police are on their way, Charlie. It’s over. Don’t do anything stupid. Let Naomi go.’

  Charlie yelled, ‘If it’s over already where’s the deterrent, Kerry? A little fun first? The Hamiltons would have been dead years ago, all the rotten lot of them if it’d been left to me.’

  Vincent was shifting forward, gun held out. ‘Documents are here.’ He pulled a large brown envelope from his jacket. ‘Let her go.’

  Charlie had shielded herself by pulling Naomi right in front of her to face Vincent. ‘Don’t move any closer,’ she said to him. ‘Drop it on the ground.’

  ‘Let her go,’ he yelled.

  ‘Drop it,’ she bellowed back and her arm squeezed tighter. Naomi was choking. Camilla was screaming.

  Vincent dropped the envelope and the guy who wasn’t Reggie let go of Camilla and walked slowly over to it with his hands out in surrender.

  ‘Not you. Stay back,’ Charlie yelled. ‘Kerry. The envelope. Give it to me.’

  The helicopter was drawing closer.

  Kerry moved slowly. She fished the envelope off the ground.

  Charlie’s breathing was laboured too. Naomi could feel the warmth of Charlie’s breath against the back of her neck and the heat of her blood seeping through to her legs. ‘What’s inside?’ was Charlie’s next question. The pressure on Naomi’s throat eased a little.

  Kerry looked inside. ‘Legal documents. From a solicitor’s.’

  ‘Henry, your wallet. Camilla, your purse. Kerry? Collect them.’

  Charlie began to pull Naomi backwards, but she was limping and yelping with the pain. She was planning her retreat. Kerry was following with the envelope, the wallet and the purse and not gaining any ground.

  ‘Release her now,’ Kerry said. The helicopter was almost overhead and Naomi was expecting a swarm of police officers any second. If she could hang on long enough. The colours were becoming dimmer. Voices seemed further away. She was choking, the life being squeezed out of her. Naomi was still being dragged backwards and Kerry was following. Her lips were moving but Naomi couldn’t hear what she was saying. Her vision began to blur, the pressure on her throat was unbearable, and then from her peripheral vision, she saw Lorie charging at them. Naomi was wrenched by the neck in a sudden shift of position and then the explosive sound of gunfire and Naomi hit the ground.

  54

  She was face down on cold grass, colourless in this light. The blades scratched at her cheeks, the scent drifted up her nose. There was a heavy weight on her legs and she was desperately gasping air. It hurt to breathe. It was painful to move her neck. Her windpipe felt bruised, damaged. Could she speak? She was soaked, she noticed now, which was a puzzle. Everyone was surrounding her, suddenly. She wondered what had happened, couldn’t take in the cacophony of sound or the faces peering down, their expressions full of horror.

  ‘You OK, Naomi?’

  Her brain was foggy.

  ‘Naomi?’

  She nodded. It was hard to tell. Maybe she was OK.

  The guy who wasn’t Reggie took charge now and told everyone to stand back. He checked if Naomi was hurt and asked her various questions, to which she could only nod or shake her head in small degrees. Then he shifted the weight off her legs and helped her to her feet. He looked so efficient now as he dished out instructions, so different to the guy who’d stood, holding Charlie’s hand.

  Naomi looked round for Vincent and couldn’t see him. Only then did she notice Charlie on the ground behind her and the shock had her staggering backwards. Charlie was face down on the ground, not moving, arms in front of her. A stream was running from her body towards a gentle slope in the grass. In her mind’s eye, Naomi vividly saw the colour of crimson though the fluid on the ground looked dark as tar.

  Camilla was upon Naomi now, hugging her, loading apologies in her ear, wetting her face with tears. Henry was standing back, watching. He seemed quite numb. He flicked a glance at Lorie, who was hanging back, alone, head down. Lorie, her sister? It was unthinkable. Naomi thought about Annabel, exhausted in the hospital after the trauma of giving birth, unaware of all of this. And Dan lying in a prison cell with no chance of release. Failure pressed down on her and she could find no comfort at all in Camilla’s arms.

  Within minutes there were half a dozen police officers issuing instructions, herding them away from Charlie. Kerry was hurrying over to Naomi, anxious to speak to her.

  She squeezed Naomi’s shoulder. ‘That was too close. You OK?’ Naomi nodded. ‘Listen, I have to ask a couple of things. Time’s very important right now. Vincent came on a bike, yes?’

  Naomi tested her voice for the first time. ‘A motorbike.’ Her tone was weak; speaking was painful.

  Kerry spoke into her phone. ‘That’s correct, Sergeant.’

  Kerry’s eyes returned to Naomi’s. ‘Do you remember anything about the model, the registration plate?’

  She shook her head. Her mind was blank. All she could think was that Vincent had the folder. The evidence. And that he had no intentions of going to prison. So what was his plan now? She had a very sickening feeling eating at her stomach lining.

  ‘No, nothing,’ Kerry was saying into her phone.

  Her eyes fixed on Naomi again. ‘Do you know where he left the bike?’

  And she nodded.

  Camilla, frustrated with Kerry for involving Naomi and coming between them, wanted to take Naomi away from here. Get her home. But Naomi didn’t want to go home. She had to know where Vincent was. What was happening. Where the folder was now.

  She led Kerry back to the railings, through them, weaved through the bushes, retraced steps past the gate and along the dirt track between thick tree trunks. The bike was still there, exactly where Vincent had concealed it.

  Kerry used her phone again. ‘Bike’s still here, which is why we missed him,’ she said. ‘He must be on foot.’

  They returned to the cemetery. Naomi discovered as she walked, that she was soaked in Charlie’s blood from the waist down. Her jeans were clinging uncomfortably to her legs. Two police officers were guarding Charlie, who’d been covered on the ground. Word was that she was dead. Their backs were to the body as they looked over countless others, scattered across the cemetery. They’d taken a sombre stance, hands behind their backs, not talking to each other.

  Naomi stayed close to Kerry, who’d acquired a police radio. Camilla was complaining to a different officer and he was trying to usher her and Henry further from the crime scene. Henry was silent. Lorie had disappeared to Kerry’s car, apparently, and was waiting there. A search of the area yielded no clues as to Vincent’s whereabouts. Someone shouted that an ambulance had arrived at the cemetery gates and the paramedics couldn’t gain entry. Rumblings started up about cemetery keys and who to call.

  Naomi put her hands in her pocket
s and her fingers stumbled across a small piece of paper and something cold. She dragged it out. Her necklace? She held the cross between her fingers. The chain was broken. Her hands were trembling. She didn’t understand. She unfolded the bit of paper and shone a light on it. It was Vincent’s handwriting. Her heart began to bang. It said, If there’s an afterlife, I’ll be sure to haunt you. I’ll miss you every night at dinner. See you at home.

  At home? The phrase seeded quickly and sprouted into a firm realisation. She wasn’t sure how she knew, she just knew. It felt like being in one of those dreams where she needed to speak and couldn’t, needed to move and found that her legs were very heavy. When she’d steadied her breathing, she called out to Kerry, who was talking to a police officer not far away. Her tone was weak and didn’t carry. She called again. This time, Kerry took one look at her and came swiftly to her side.

  ‘What is it?’ she said.

  ‘He isn’t running. He has no intentions of escaping. He’s planning to die.’

  ‘Die?’

  ‘Yes. It’s obvious now. I think I’ve been in denial, but –’

  ‘OK, calm down. If we can find him –’

  ‘He’s gone home. He’s heading home!’ she shouted. Now her tongue was working, the words were pouring out. ‘We need to go now.’

  ‘You could do with being checked at the hospital. Why don’t you let us take it from here and –’

  ‘Kerry, no! I have to come. If anyone can talk him round, it’s me.’

  A couple of seconds of indecision and Kerry said, ‘What about your parents?’

  Naomi glanced at them and Camilla was trying to pull Henry out of a trance. He looked utterly lost. Her attention was diverted.

  ‘Later. No time. Come on.’

  They hurried to the broken railing, climbed through. The ambulance was silently sitting by the gates, bathing the lane in otherworldly flashing light.

  Kerry was making urgent announcements into her radio and Naomi barely heard a word she said. Too much traffic in her head. Everything hinged now on this certainty of hers, that Vincent had gone home. His house was like a fortress. Once the locks were on, would anyone get in? The keys? Did Lorie have the house keys?

  They ran to the car. Lorie was in the passenger seat. She stiffened when she saw Naomi. Naomi dropped on the back seat. Kerry fired the engine, lurched forward, veered the car into a U-turn and skidded down the lane.

  Through the police radio, a male voice echoed through the car, ‘We’re following a vehicle on the M56 doing approximately 130 miles an hour.’

  Naomi gasped.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Lorie asked.

  ‘Helicopter tracking Vincent,’ Naomi answered. ‘I’m pretty sure he’s heading home.’

  ‘Home?’ Lorie’s voice was barely audible. ‘Why there?’

  ‘He doesn’t intend to escape. Where else would he go but home? Do you have the keys?’

  ‘No. He took them.’

  Of course he did! He always thought of everything. Naomi looked out of the window at passing shadows. A horrible sense of foreboding was bearing down on her now. ‘What happened with you two tonight?’ Naomi closed her eyes.

  ‘Everything,’ Lorie said, and Naomi felt the air squeeze out of her. One word brought a gallery of pictures to Naomi’s mind. She didn’t want to know any more and Lorie offered no further details.

  Kerry dropped down the gears as she swayed round corners. Before long they were on the slip road, merging onto the motorway. Kerry pushed her speed to 100 and kept it there.

  Next message that bounced around the car was, ‘He’s in a high performance vehicle, heading for Gatley we’re told. Roads are clear. Need officers on the ground, over.’

  ‘He’s exiting now at junction 6. Any patrol cars nearby, over?’

  Apparently, yes. Two vehicles confirmed their whereabouts, five officers, more were on their way. The two vehicles were blocking each entrance to Vincent’s road. Repeated warnings were being issued that Solomon was armed. To proceed with caution. No heroics down there. Naomi wondered if the police had weapons for defence. Tasers? Rifles? Who knew what else?

  After that, it was a running commentary over the radio with Kerry needing to say very little. Vincent turning onto this road, that street. He’d abandoned the car on a back street somewhere and threaded around the houses on foot. They traced his flight in the darkness, charging through gardens and over fences. The officers in the waiting cars couldn’t respond in time to intercept him.

  Next news from the air: ‘We’ve lost him. Repeat, the suspect has disappeared. Any news from the ground? Anyone have a visual down there?’

  A negative response came back. Vincent had made it home.

  Kerry followed Vincent’s route and exited at junction 6 and followed signs to Gatley. As they tried to pull into Vincent’s street they found a police van blocking the way. Kerry rolled down the window and the officer in the driver’s seat nodded and reversed, allowing them to pass. There was another police car close to the house but not in front of it. Two officers got out of the car and were crouching close to the drive. Gunfire from the house and the officers were scooting back to the car.

  What was Vincent doing?

  Lights were blinking on in houses down the street. Curiosity had brought neighbours to the windows. All the officers were back in the vehicles now and were being told to stay where they were until backup arrived. Repeat: do not exit your vehicle.

  ‘We’re not ready for this,’ Kerry said. ‘Large team was due on duty at 5. The superintendent has been dragged out of bed. Presumably he’s on his way.’

  The helicopter was still circling overhead, watching the house.

  ‘Thermal camera is picking up a blast of energy from the house. Can’t rule out an explosion of some kind,’ the guy from the helicopter reported over the radio.

  ‘An explosion?’ Naomi said, hand on the door handle, pulse banging in her ears. She didn’t want to hear his voice anymore, narrating Vincent’s movements nonchalantly.

  ‘What’s happening, Kerry?’

  ‘I really don’t know.’

  Kerry spoke into her radio. ‘Let me approach the house. I’ll stay out of view of the front windows, see if any doors or windows are open round the back.’

  Naomi knew there wouldn’t be. She sat listening, hating the wait and having to be still. Nothing was being done. Kerry was told to stay where she was and not to leave her car.

  Naomi pulled the door handle. ‘I have to try and speak to him.’

  ‘It’s too risky.’

  ‘He won’t hurt me,’ she said, and leapt out of the car and ran fifteen metres up to the house. As she ran up the drive, she noticed lights blazing in the downstairs windows. There was a police loudspeaker now, telling her to move to the side of the house, to safety. She ignored it and hammered on the door.

  ‘Vincent? Vincent!’ She took hold of the letterbox and found that it was warm. She let go and wrapped her sleeve around her hand while she lifted the lid. Dark smoke breathed out.

  She reeled backwards, wondered why the smoke alarms weren’t screaming. The loudspeaker was still ranting at her, but she stepped forward again and bashed at the door with her fists. The scent of smoke had settled in her nostrils. It was all she could smell and taste now.

  ‘Naomi?’ She found Lorie right behind her, running, and Kerry was crouching by the gatepost, wildly signalling for the two girls to move to the side of the house.

  Naomi yelled to anyone who’d listen, ‘The house is on fire. Why is nobody doing anything?’

  ‘Fire?’ Lorie said.

  Kerry swore and threw caution to one side and ran up the drive, stood in the doorway out of view of the windows.

  ‘Call the fire brigade,’ Naomi said.

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Certain.’ She wrapped her sleeve around her fingers and lifted the letterbox and toxic fumes rushed at her again.

  Kerry immediately got her phone out and dialled 999.


  Naomi ran to the front of the house now, in full view of the windows. She searched the upstairs windows while the helicopter hovered right overhead, roaring thunderously. From her peripheral vision, she saw two officers emerging from the nearby van, but she barely registered their presence.

  ‘Vincent?’ she yelled. ‘Vincent.’

  Next thing she was being seized from either side.

  A surge of strength powered her muscles. She struggled. Didn’t want to be restrained, no way. ‘Get off me.’

  ‘You need to move to safety.’

  ‘The house is on fire,’ she yelled. ‘Get him out of there.’

  Kerry called, ‘The fire brigade are on the way. They reckon a few minutes. Let go of her, Mike. She knows this guy well.’

  Naomi broke free and ran across to Kerry who was sizing up the tall fence that led to the back.

  ‘How did this happen so quickly?’ Naomi asked.

  ‘Lighter fluid most likely. I’m going to take a look round the back. Give me a hand.’

  Meant literally. Naomi threaded her fingers together and struggled to steady her hands. Panic was gripping her now with cold fingers. Lorie was still in the open porch and was being instructed to move. In all honesty, it was bedlam. Kerry stepped into Naomi’s cupped hands a couple of feet above the ground and reached the top of the fence and hoisted herself over it. Naomi could hear hammering noises seconds later. Stone against glass? Kerry was trying to break in.

  Chaos had ensued at the front of the house now. People were trickling out of the surrounding houses. Police were commanding them to go inside. More police cars were arriving. Naomi ran to the front of the house again and stood in the road, wanting to scream, wanting to pound her fists into the faces of those who hung back to protect themselves. The shutters at the lounge windows were blazing. The lounge was an inferno. She found herself looking up, yelling Vincent’s name again. And then the curtains parted upstairs and Vincent was standing in one of the upstairs bedrooms, looking down at her. And in Naomi’s world, everything fell silent.