This was the Toby he’d become used to, the one who’d taken away his friend and replaced him with an embittered bastard.
‘I’m doing my job. I don’t want to believe that your dad would be capable of it, but if you were me and he was the only person you could find who’d been at the scene at the time—’
‘But he wasn’t there at the time,’ Toby said, coming closer than before. Ben forced himself to stay rooted to the spot. ‘If you really did read my report, then you’d know that the fire couldn’t have started before eleven. The way it burned, the speed with which it ate up the grass, it’s not possible.’
‘Assuming your Dad got back when he said he got back.’
‘There could have been someone else at the cemetery. Did you smell petrol on Dad when you came to the house? Did you find anything that could suggest it was him?’
Leila had done a quick search outside the house without Toby knowing and she hadn’t found anything suspicious. It wasn’t conclusive though, and they’d need a warrant to do anything more thorough. By which time any evidence would probably be gone.
Toby was nothing if not protective.
‘He’s not the man he used to be. Things change. And what with it being the anniversary—’
Toby stepped in closer. ‘You’re wrong, and if you were a half-decent cop, you’d stop going down this useless line of enquiry and start looking at other options.’
Blood jack-hammered in his temples. Toby had always doubted his ability as an officer. Ever since he’d slunk back to Echo Springs, he’d put up with the disappointed looks Toby flung his way. Not that it should have mattered what Toby thought; it had been years since Toby had wanted anything to do with him. If anything, Ben had been too lenient, too easygoing and blind when it came to Tobias Grimshaw and his father.
Blind Ben Fields…
His insides cracked rather than thawed. He levelled his voice as much as he could. ‘I’ll be at your place first thing tomorrow, whether Bob is with it or not.’ He marched past Toby and wrenched open the door.
The suffocating evening heat rushed to envelop him. He stalked down the road towards home, thoughts tumbling over themselves, stirring up the past so all he could think about was how he’d run back to Echo Springs, a failed cop from the city going to where expectations were lower. And Toby was one of the first people he’d seen. From the looks he’d given him, he’d already known. They’d all known.
‘Ben!’
That sounded like Toby but it wouldn’t be him. Toby had never chased him down in his life.
‘Ben! Stop, for god’s sake!’
That was Toby. He shuddered to a halt. He needed to fortify himself, but the heat melted his defences. Whatever argument they had now, it was going to wound deep.
Toby came around to stand in front of him. He was a couple of inches shorter than him, but Ben had always considered Toby the bigger man. He rose to his full height and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
‘I’m sorry.’
Ben flinched. This was not the Toby he expected.
‘What I said was out of line. I was…I was protecting my dad.’
How many times had he heard arguments like this from misguided and fooled loved ones? ‘And would you protect him even if he was an arsonist?’
‘If he was an arsonist, I’d absolutely hand him over. You know what it’s like. If there’s one bent cop, it gives you all a bad name. It’s the same for us. We spend our time putting out fires; to have one of our own go around starting them… But trust me, please, it’s not him. I believe Dad.’
‘But how can you be sure?’
‘I’ve checked the house myself. There’s no spare fuel lying around. None of his clothes are covered with it. There’d be some smoke residue on something. The place would stink. I know my stuff.’
‘Unlike me.’
‘That’s not what I said.’
‘But it’s what you think.’
Toby didn’t say anything. He never said anything, nothing that mattered. Anyway, Toby said more with his eyes than his mouth.
‘I’ve had enough of this. I’ll see you tomorrow when I do my stuff.’
He walked away but Toby grabbed his arm.
‘You’re a good cop, Ben, but you need to let this go. Dad’s not your guy.’
He expected anger on Toby’s face but instead there was a vulnerability that he was unused to seeing there, an openness that attempted to drain Ben’s heart of its anger. He jerked his arm out of Toby’s grip and tried to weave around him but Toby got in his way.
‘If I were a good cop, whoever started this fire would already be caught, so don’t patronise me.’
‘I’m not patronising you, Ben, I’m trying to help.’
‘Since when have you ever wanted to help me, Toby? Since when have you ever given a shit about me?’
He hadn’t meant to say it but it came out with such force. Even so, he didn’t regret it. The only regret he had about it was that Toby didn’t speak, only confirming what he’d known all along. They may as well have been strangers.
‘We should be working together—’
‘But instead you’re stopping me from following a line of enquiry that any other cop would follow just because it concerns your father.’
‘Wouldn’t you do what you thought was right to protect someone you love? Didn’t you?’
There it was again, the assumption that what he’d done, the thing that had brought him scurrying back here, had been for love. He’d been betrayed, done his job and still ended up worse because of it. No one believed him that he had no idea about Jared dealing. He wouldn’t have believed it himself, but it was the truth. Yes, he’d been blind, stupid, ignorant. But never corrupt.
What the hell did it matter now?
Except it did matter, and right now it mattered a lot. Tobias Grimshaw judged him every day because of it and was now trying to use it against him. ‘You want to work together on this? Then I’m going to speak to Bob now. You can chaperone, I don’t care, but I’m doing this.’
He spun on his heel and headed back to the pub. Toby wouldn’t lie about what Bob had said, or at least he’d once known him well enough to believe that, but it was now a matter of principle. A good cop never rests, justice never sleeps, serve and protect, all that stuff.
And pride wouldn’t let him retreat, not even when Toby seized his arm.
‘Get off me, Toby, touch me again and I’ll do you for assault.’
Pathetic. Using the law like that to defend himself because his feelings were hurt.
‘Ben, not tonight,’ Toby said, running beside him. ‘I’m asking you, as a friend.’ It sounded like he meant it.
‘We’re not friends,’ he said, spitting out the word, and marching into the pub.
A hollowness chiselled through his chest as he ripped open the door and strode over to Bob’s table. Cold, unfeeling, but managing to put on an imitation of a smile, he peered down at the group. Their laughter tapered off as they noticed him and said their cautious hellos.
‘Mr Grimshaw, do you mind if we have a chat?’
‘Of course, Ben, always got time for you.’
Just like old times.
The Grimshaws’ place had been a second home when the two families had spent so much time together. His father—a police sergeant—and Bob—the fire chief—had been good mates, but it was Mary and Ella who’d been the closest, ever since they were girls. When all six of them were together it wasn’t two families, it was one, and they’d been so happy. Thinking of what they’d lost, acid tears scalded the back of Ben’s eyes.
The old-timer gave his goodbyes, and Ben took his seat. Narelle stayed and Toby joined them. His expression clouded over with more gloom than an approaching storm.
‘I suppose you want to ask me about that day at the cemetery, too,’ Bob said.
‘Afraid so.’
‘Well, there’s not much else I can tell you that I haven’t already told Toby, but sure.’
&
nbsp; He repeated what Toby had said, not word for word but in a rambling, story-telling sort of way. Ben asked questions to test Bob’s story but it held, as did his memory. Worry replaced the anger on Toby’s face in anticipation of the moment when Bob would no longer be himself. Some of the tension in Ben’s shoulders unwound.
‘And you didn’t see anyone else out there at the time? Didn’t notice anything unusual?’
‘To be honest, I was focused on visiting my Mary, I wouldn’t have noticed a herd of cattle if they’d been standing next to me. But as far as I remember, and the memory isn’t as good as it once was,’ he laughed, ‘I don’t think there was anyone else there.’
‘And you didn’t smell anything?’
‘Now, Ben, I was a fireman for thirty-something years. If I smelled a fire, do you think I wouldn’t have noticed?’
‘Just checking, Mr Grimshaw,’ he said, his lips softening into a smile. ‘How’d you get out there?’
‘I walked.’
‘Bit of a long way, isn’t it? Especially with the heat?’
‘Well, I had no other way of getting there.’ He leaned closer and whispered. ‘They’ve taken my licence away, don’t you know?’ He winked at him before sitting back. ‘Narelle was busy that day and Toby…where were you? I can’t remember.’
‘At work, Dad.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ he frowned to himself. ‘Funny, I’m sure I saw you but…nope, it’s gone. Must have been someone else.’
‘Who was it? Where did you think you saw Toby?’
‘Nah, forget it. Wasn’t anyone.’
He glanced at Toby and the huffy look he got before he rolled his eyes told him that Toby knew what was coming next. Not that he could really imagine Toby would be the arsonist.
‘Well, that seems fair, Mr Grimshaw. Sorry to have interrupted your evening.’
‘Anytime, Ben. Can’t be too cautious. Whole town could go up if we’re not careful. Never seen the place so dry.’
‘Let’s hope it never comes to that.’
‘Yeah, Echo Springs has seen enough tragedy,’ he said, then paused and looked down. Was that it? Had Bob used up the last of his good times and was now lost in the fog? Ben stood to go, but sat down again when Bob looked up. ‘I said a prayer over Ella’s grave too when I was there. I wanted you to know that.’
His heart ached as the memory of his mother’s death yanked on it from across the years. Maybe he should have brought flowers for Mary’s grave as well. Next year. He cleared his throat. ‘Thanks, Bob. I visited her too on the day, twice. Brought Dad with me the second time.’
‘You’re a good son. I’ve asked Toby to come with me, but he refuses. I’m sure he has his reasons.’ Bob took a swig of his beer. ‘You’d think it was the least he could do.’
‘Are we done here?’ Toby snapped.
Toby had never wanted to talk about their mothers’ deaths when they happened, and then after the funeral he’d shut Ben out of his life. Had Toby ever talked about it? With anyone? Ben had wanted to be there for him, but he’d spurned his sympathy and his love. That memory was almost as unhappy as finding out his mother had died. No matter what he’d tried, Toby had remained resolute, and there were only so many times he could be rejected before he got fed up with being kicked.
‘Yeah, I’m done.’ He shook Bob’s hand. ‘Thanks for your time. Hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.’ He nodded to Narelle, ignored Toby and left the pub, texting Leila that he’d gone. Right now, he needed to get home, have a shower and forget about Toby for the rest of the night. He gave a derisive laugh. He may as well try to summon rain.
Chapter Four
Toby’s nightmares supplied the screams. The terror-filled high-pitched wailing rang in his ears while Ella and Mary burned. They marched out of the shadows inside the flames, their bodies charred but their faces still visible. They weren’t alone. More townspeople emerged—his dad, members of his crew, Ben!—and ambled towards him as their shrieking raised louder. He searched for an escape but they surrounded him. Their screams… ringing… ringing… ringing… as they called his name.
‘Toby!’
He jerked awake, sweat soaking his body and his heart jack-hammering inside his chest. Smoke alarms shrieked, wood crackled and popped, and the cloying stench of smoke roused him more than smelling salts. He’d woken out of that horrifying nightmare and into a whole new one. They had minutes to get out.
‘Dad!’ he shouted, jumping out of bed, grabbing his phone and sprinting down the hall. His hand touched the wall and he snatched it back from the roasting heat. Minutes or seconds?
‘Dad!’
He ran down the hall. The roof creaked and splintered, as wood cracked in the blaze. He covered his nose and mouth with the crook of his arm, and bent low to avoid the smoke filling the house. He glimpsed inside the kitchen, the flames more intense and swarming there, giving off an oily sheen. He glanced at the floor to confirm no body lay on the ground before hurrying on. His dad wasn’t in the bathroom either and his room at the back of the house was empty. Wherever he was, he wasn’t inside.
Toby rushed through the open backdoor in the laundry, grabbed a pair of shorts out of the washing basket and burst into the fresh air, coughing to clear the smoke out of his throat. He rang emergency services and gave the details. His gaze swept across the backyard.
His dad wasn’t out the back but he shouted for him anyway. He hadn’t checked the family room and a hard knot solidified in the middle of his chest. He’d rescued people from burning houses before, how could he not have done a full sweep? He turned to re-enter the house but the roof caved in, forcing him back. The flames feasted on their wooden home crammed with junk. Pulling on the shorts, he took the chance and raced down the side of the house, dodging flames and searching among the grass. Someone talked to him through his phone, but he hung up when he heard the approaching sirens. Sweaty and singed, he broke free from the house’s reach and into the front yard, slamming into his neighbour.
‘Ian, have you seen Dad?’
Ian’s hand latched onto his sweaty arm and pulled him away. ‘He’s with us,’ he said. ‘We found him out the front. He said you were already out here but when we couldn’t find you… Are you okay?’
He extracted himself from the grip. ‘I’m fine, I’m fine. I need to see Dad.’ His lungs hungered for clean air, expanding like giant balloons then abruptly emptying.
The house crumbled behind him as neighbours emerged to gawp. He couldn’t think about what he’d lost, or what he’d almost lost. Bob sat in the grass. He was calm and whole. The weight in Toby’s chest plummeted to the bottom of his stomach, almost taking out his knees. He staggered over to Bob. When he reached him, he sank to the grass. Bob sat with his palms open, pink and weeping, but he didn’t recognise him.
‘We tried to move him but he refused.’
The fire tanker arrived. Adrian jumped out first and grabbed the hose, while Lewis hung back, got everything working and tried to control the crowd. A second tanker would arrive soon. Maybe he should help, but his legs refused to budge. If he couldn’t save his own house, what kind of firefighter did that make him?
Dad must have had the same thought. When he saw Adrian in his gear and the hose snaking across the lawn, he rose to join him.
‘We’re staying here, Dad.’ He grabbed Bob’s forearm as high above his burns as possible and applied enough force to keep him down.
‘But there’s a fire!’
‘I know,’ he replied softly. ‘But they don’t need us right now. We’re second shift.’
Thankfully, this placated him and he sat back down, content to watch the fire consume the property. The heat against Toby’s back was all he needed to know that it still raged. They should move away but the drive had gone out of him. Lewis and Adrian did their job, the water and the foam working to beat down the flames. Neighbours milled too close for their own safety. Someone handed him a t-shirt, not that he needed it. The adrenaline, the heat rolling off the hous
e, the earth still hot from a scorching day…he’d never be cold again.
A paramedic—Steph—appeared next to him with her kit.
‘Bob,’ she said, ‘can you hear me? I’m going to look at your hands.’
He didn’t acknowledge her. Transfixed, shadows danced across his lined face as he kept the blaze in his eyes.
The fire devoured their home but Toby felt like he was inside a glass box. Protected. Untouched. But forced to stay.
Someone talked to him but he couldn’t hear them.
‘Toby, have you got any injuries?’
Was that Steph? Had she already asked that question?
‘Umm…no,’ he said, not sure he understood what he was responding to.
He refused oxygen, hands examined him but he stumbled away from them and faced the fire. The red flames battled to stay alive as Adrian mastered them. But his eyes were drawn to the point of their strongest retaliation. His head filled with the screams of ghosts, and out of the fire and the smoke that erupted into the night air, the faces of Ella and Mary flew towards him.
Startled, he screwed his eyes shut, protected his face with his hands and spun, slamming into the warm and solid body standing behind him. He released a shaky breath.
‘It’s okay, Toby. It’s okay.’
Strong, thick arms circled him and hugged him. His own rapid pulse faded as he listened to the reassuring heartbeat now filling his ears. Time stopped and he wasn’t there any longer. There was a long stretch of blessed nothing and eventually he could breathe again. He inhaled deeply and a familiar scent filled his lungs as he lifted his head. When he opened his eyes, it was to look into Ben’s gentle eyes.
Thank god you’re here.
A fist punched his heart, strong enough to push him out of Ben’s arms. He wiped his nose with his forearm, and staggered back. He couldn’t depend on Ben for support. He couldn’t fall into that trap. He’d denied himself that when he’d needed it years ago and promised never, no matter how much he wanted it, to seek solace in Ben’s arms. If he knew the truth, he’d hate him.
It was better this way.
‘Toby, please…’ Ben said.
Embers and Echoes Page 3
