by ML Rose
She pushed one of the barn doors and stepped inside. Smoke floated out, covering her in a cloud. She waved her arms, trying to see. Her eyes slowly got used to the dark. There was old hay in the barn, and it was burning.
She stepped inside, her feet slippery on the stone floor. The upper floor of the barn loomed over her head. She heard a crash, then a giant tearing sound to her right. She leapt to her left, just in time to avoid a piece of timber falling from above. Rotten wood had molten in the heat, and was succumbing to gravity.
Arla lost her balance and fell down, but scrambled to her feet quickly. Visibility was poor still, smoke covering the whole barn. She wanted to shout Natalie’s name. But the fire crackled loudly, and with the cardigan on her face, no one would hear her.
She pushed on, arms flailing in front, hoping she didn’t step on an old trowel. Shafts of sunlight perforated the miasma of smoke and fumes, but didn’t help to alleviate the gloom. Another mighty crash came from behind her, followed by a ripping sound. Arla looked behind. The barn door had shut, which was an ominous sign.
Was there someone else inside?
She increased her speed, moving deeper into the barn. A wall of heat spasmed into her, scorching her face. Flames leapt into the air further ahead, and all Arla could see was a black mass that was burning. It was nothing but the upper floor of the barn that was used as storage, and chunks of it were falling into the fire. The old wood was fanning the flames even further.
Arla looked to her right. The floor opened up into stalls for horses, and she moved towards them. They were derelict, but she peered inside. Nothing but a dark, smoking mass met her eyes. She heard a moaning rip roar over her head. Alarmed, she looked up. The corrugated roof was buckling in the heat.
She didn’t have any time left. Desperately, she moved on, squinting hard, trying to find anything of interest.
Then she saw the shape slumped on the floor. Arla got closer, and knelt. It was Natalie, her face blackened with soot, dust gathered around her nose and mouth. Arla put two fingers on the carotid pulse – it was flat. She couldn’t be certain if there was any breathing – but it didn’t seem like it.
She grabbed Natalie’s hands and pulled. It was a dead weight. Arla ground her teeth and heaved, pulling Natalie across the rubbish strewn floor. She heard the sound behind her. Another giant rip, followed by a rippling, gashing explosion. Arla dived to the left, letting go of Natalie. A wooden post splintered on the floor, inches away from where she had just been.
Her head banged against the floor, making her dizzy. She shook herself, and got up. Natalie was lying still. Arla knew she was close to death, but she needed to get the body out and give her CPR, which might work.
If she could get out.
She started moving towards the doors again, but Natalie was slowing her down. Flames erupted in front of her, making her halt. She was now surrounded by raging plumes of fiery heat, with no way out. Arla couldn’t breathe. There was no oxygen left in the air. She coughed, which she knew was wrong, because it only made her gasp for more air.
Her life flashed before her eyes. Is this how it was supposed to end? Nicole’s face came to mind, and tears burned her eyes.
The moaning sound from above came again, and this time a section of the roof collapsed. It brought down one part of the barn wall to her left. The rusty iron exploded into the barn floor, shaking the ground. Shockwaves from the explosion hit Arla square in the chest, sending her tumbling to the floor.
CHAPTER 40
The cardigan had slipped off her face. Arla breathed, but it was only smoke. She rolled over, dust and horrible black air caking her mouth. Her fingers groped the floor blindly. She found the cardigan, shook it and wrapped it round her face again. Her eyes were streaming now, fluid blurring her vision.
The section of the collapsed roof had also created a gash on the side of the barn. Twisted metal was buckling into grotesque shapes in the heat. An opening had formed, letting in more light. Arla grabbed Natalie again, and moved. She had no strength left, only a desire to remain alive.
She screamed as her right ankle twisted on something, and she shook it free. Pain ignited in her right leg, and she dragged it. She kept moving, towards the stall that had toppled forward, and left a gap behind. Air and light came through it. But to reach the gap, Arla had to move around the main fire. She forced her legs to move as fast she could. Her whole body was screaming in agony, and her shoulders felt they would come free from their sockets with the strain of pulling Natalie.
The fire singed her hair, licked heat into her face. Arla grit her teeth and kept going. She could smell a breath of fresh air. There was more light. She trampled over the broken stall. She had to pull Natalie over the fallen wood and masonry.
A welcome gust of fresh air hit her in the face. She had reached the gap, and stared down below at the green, green grass. The drop was small, less than five feet. Lisa appeared, and Arla had never been so glad to see her.
Lisa screamed her name, and started climbing up the rubble. Arla pushed Natalie over the edge, and handed her prone figure to Lisa. Lisa pulled and fell over as Natalie landed on the grass next to her.
Tears streaked down Arla’s face. She tried to step down the rubble, into Lisa’s waiting arms. She couldn’t. Her feet slipped, and she tumbled down into the grass.
She lay on her back. The cardigan had come off somehow, and was probably inside the wreckage of the barn. She drew in great lungsful of air. It was good to be alive. She succumbed to a bout of coughing, and retched till she brought up saliva.
She was on all fours, the tickly cough hacking from her throat. She trailed mucus from her lips as she drew breath, her chest and lungs burning.
Lisa put a hand on her back, rubbing it. She held a bottle of water up, and Arla didn’t bother asking whose or from where it was – she grabbed it, then chugged it down till it was all gone.
The wail of sirens was getting louder by the second.
CHAPTER 41
Charlie sped down the A3, going back into London. He had finished an important task, but the main battle now loomed ahead. He pressed the keys on his steering wheel to activate his telephone. His girlfriend’s voice came on the loudspeaker. Girlfriend was a loose term. She was an acquaintance he was sleeping with, and using her as a means to an end. So far, she had fulfilled all his expectations.
"I’m in Hyde Park," she said. "Where are you?"
"Just driving back from work," he lied. He dropped his voice an octave, making his next sentence sound more intimate. "I'd like to see you."
He knew that she wanted him. No man had bought her nice gifts like Charlie had, and neither did anyone satisfied her in bed as much as he did. Charlie liked to pick his victims after careful study. He preferred women who were low on self-esteem, and could be used.
"I'd like to see you to," she said. "But I'm working. I've got the boy."
Charlie's heartbeat kicked up a notch. "Oh, I see," he tried to act nonchalant. "So, you're with Emmanuel in Hyde Park?"
"Yes," she paused, hesitating. "We'll be here for another hour."
Charlie checked the watch on the dashboard, then smiled. "I can be with you in forty minutes, if not less. Where in Hyde Park are you?"
"Near the Serpentine Gallery. Text me when you're here. Oh, and Charlie?"
"Yes, I know. You're not meant to see your boyfriend when you're working as a nanny. Don't worry, I'll make sure your employer won't find out. You drove down there yourself, right?"
"Yes. But still. Please be careful. I don't want to lose my job."
Charlie grinned, reassured her, then hung up.
Traffic was heavy, but Charlie knew all the back roads into Paddington, which was right next to Hyde Park.
At Hyde Park Corner, he parked up and checked the contents of his arsenal. He was in a white builder’s van. The van didn’t have a logo, and was like millions of similar vans on the road. It suited his purpose perfectly. He took out the bottle of gamma hydroxy butyrate
, or GHB, the date rape drug, as it was commonly known, and poured a small quantity into a vial. He slipped the vial inside his pocket then locked up the van.
The sun was shining and there were plenty of people about in Hyde Park. He sent his girlfriend a text, and she replied back. Charlie took the steps down the bridge, to the walkway that snaked past the Serpentine River.
He saw her at the water's edge with Emmanuel, feeding the ducks. Charlie walked straight past her, and she didn't even notice. He looked around, making sure he hadn't been followed, and no one was watching his girlfriend and the boy. Then he walked back to her. She turned around when he said her name, and smiled.
Emmanuel twisted round to see who it was. His eyes widened.
"Hello," Charlie said. Emmanuel stared at him and for a while Charlie wondered if he would recognise him. Charlie stood to his full height and averted his face quickly, focusing on the Serpentine river.
Luckily, Emmanuel got busy feeding the ducks again. He had soon forgotten about Charlie, running after the ducks, his nanny making sure he didn’t fall in the water.
They walked on, and Charlie entwined his fingers around his girlfriend’s hand. He gave it a squeeze, and she squeezed back, smiling.
"Would you like a coffee?", he asked.
"No, but I'd love a tea."
They found a bench that was secluded, in the shade of a weeping willow tree. Charlie walked off to the café near the Serpentine Gallery. He bought the tea, then made his way to the bathroom inside the gallery. He went inside a cubicle, and slipped out the vial of GHB. He poured the contents into the tea, then stirred it with the plastic spoon. He had used GHB before, on other women. It was great because it had no smell, and no taste. The drinker, or victim, had no idea they were about to become comatose.
He discarded the spoon, went outside and bought himself a coffee. With both drinks, he went back to the bench where he had left his girlfriend and Emmanuel.
Oh, thank you," the nanny said, accepting the cup of tea. Charlie gave her Gabb peck on the lips when Emmanuel had his back turned to them. He was from the corner of his eyes as she took the lid off, blew off the fumes, then took a long sip. Her eyes closed in comfort. He smiled to himself.
This GHB was a synthetic version of the main chemical. It was 10 times more potent than normal. It cost a lot more as well, available only on the dark web. Charlie had tried it once on another victim, and he had no doubt it was going to work.
From his pocket, he took out the chocolate in its wrapper. He had wrapped it carefully himself. The sweet inside was laced with Phenergan, a sedative antihistamine. The liquid form was easily available at any chemist. Charlie had coated the chocolate thickly with the chemical.
He offered it to Emmanuel, who accepted it without any question. The nanny kept a watchful eye on Emmanuel, as he sat down on the grass and played with his wooden aeroplane. There was a pram for Emmanuel, and the back of the pram was loaded with toys and drinks. Charlie put his arm around the nanny, and pulled her towards him. He kissed her lightly on the lips.
"Did you have a long day?" He asked.
"Yes, I had to be at my other job. Then rushed back home to pick Emmanuel up. I was ten minutes late, and you know what her mother is like."
"No, but I can guess," Charlie lied. Of course, he knew exactly what she was like. He knew Rochelle Pitt only too well.
The nanny stopped talking, and yawned. She finished her drink, and looked up at Charlie, her eyes hooded.
“Don’t know why I feel so tired.”
“You work too hard,” Charlie said, looking sympathetic. He pulled her close to him. “Just relax. You’ll be fine.”
After five minutes, she was sagging into Charlie. Charlie looked around him, then carefully laid her down on the park bench. He went up to Emmanuel, who was also rubbing his eyes. He looked up at Charlie and yawned.
"I want to sleep."
Charlie knelt to bring himself face to face with the boy. "I know. Shall we go back to the car?" Emmanuel nodded. Charlie picked him up.
Emmanuel pointed at the nanny. "What about Shirley?
Charlie was already walking swiftly.
"She's just tired like you. Don't worry, she'll come home soon."
Emmanuel yawned again, then put his head on Charlie's shoulder. "I want to see mummy," he said.
Charlie's eyes were gleaming as he stared straight ahead.
"It might be a while before you see her," he whispered so the boy couldn't hear.
CHAPTER 42
Rob and Rosslyn were waiting in the lounge of the Pitt residence. The caretaker had let them in, and shown them into one of the sitting rooms on the ground floor. Rosslyn looked around the original oil paintings hung on the wall, and the bespoke wallpaper. The high ceilings, and sculpted corniches added to the opulence.
"This is how the other half live," Rosslyn whispered in Rob's ear.
Rob liked the perfume Rosslyn had on. She was wearing a dark blue skirt suit, and he knew she was about his age, mid 30s. One night, after team drinks in the pub, she had let slip her age. He frowned, trying to remember. No, she was early 30s. A few years younger than him.
Rob wasn't sure what to do. Rosslyn was pretty, that was obvious. Her brown hair was always nicely done, and there was something about her grey eyes that made him want to stare at her. Rob wasn't great with women. He never had been. He knew he was a few pounds overweight, and also incurably shy, which in his experience, women didn’t like.
He knew that the policeman in the station made eyes at Rosslyn. Sooner or later, she would start going out with one of them. She had been in the serious crime squad for almost 2 years now. It was surprising she hadn't found a boyfriend as yet. Or maybe she did, and didn't want anyone to know. In any case, Rob thought, it wasn't like she would ever go out with him.
"You should have seen where the Remington family lived, in Kensington," Rob said, referring to Arla's last case. "Honestly, it looks like the Vatican."
"Get away," Rosslyn said, eyes wide. He was standing in front of Rob, leaning forward slightly. He liked that.
"No, honestly," he said. "The Remington clan have relations with the royalty. Do you know how much land they own?"
Rosslyn shook her head. Rob was pleased. That's one thing he did know – a lot of unnecessary facts. He was a bookworm, and one of the reasons why he enjoyed his detective job was the amount of background research he had to do on his suspects.
"Her husband is the second cousin, twice removed, of the Duke of York. They own hundreds of acres in North West England, in Lincolnshire and Northumberland."
Rosslyn made a face. "And what do they do with it?"
"Rented out to developers and the government. Also, to farmers. I think they make almost £1 million a year just by leasing out their land. And they have other business ventures."
"Wow," Rosslyn whispered.
"Word on the street is their net worth is almost £300 million."
Rosslyn shook her head. "I remember the case. None of this information is online. How did you find out?" Rob could see that she was impressed, and it gave his heart a flutter. A flutter he hadn't felt in a long time.
"I just keep my ear close to the ground," he tapped one finger to the side of his nose, and smiled.
"You clever clod,” Rosslyn smiled, an easy grin that made her grey eyes sparkle with mirth.
She swatted Rob playfully on the arm, and he felt a thrill jolt his heart. He felt warmth on his cheeks and bent his head quickly to disguise his blush.
Rob took out the tablet from his coat’s breast pocket and pretended to get ready for taking down the guard’s statement. He stole a glance towards Rosslyn. She was still smiling at him, and he averted his eyes quickly, embarrassed.
There was a knock on the door and the caretaker entered, with the uniformed security guard. The guards name was Thomas, and he was Polish.
Rob interrogated him about the burglary last month. "He came in through the back, so he must have climbed the
rear boundary wall?"
Thomas said, "Yes. There is a boundary wall which separates the property from the one behind it."
"There's a path separating the two properties, isn't there?" Rob had seen the boundary maps on the ordnance survey report he downloaded from Land Registry.
Thomas looked impressed. "Yes. He must have climbed that."
"Do you have any CCTV on the boundary walls?"
Thomas shook his head. "No. There's a lot of trees and bushes at the rear of the property. It's like a forest, really. We always get foxes in there. There was once a fox nest, and we had to call the exterminator from the council."
Rob pressed his lips together, thoughtful. "So, is it possible that someone could have hidden there, even in the daytime, and kept watch on the house?"
Thomas looked startled. Evidently, he hadn't considered this as a possibility. "Maybe."
“Can we please have a look at the rear?" Rob asked, then glanced at Rosslyn. She nodded her agreement.
Thomas agreed to show them around. Rosslyn went to the car and came back with shoe coverings and gloves.
They walked down a side exit and Thomas paused before he left the hallway. "By the way, this is the way the burglar entered. This is normally where deliveries are dropped off. The caretaker had left this door open by mistake."
Rob and Rosslyn had a look round the small space. It was a service room, with old washing machines and furniture arranged in one corner. They didn't find anything of value. They walked out into the garden, and it was as big as a football field. Thomas took them down to the left corner, and a flank of stones formed a walkway that led to the rear. After the huge garden, they passed a pond, which was big enough for two small boats moored in a little play jetty. Rosslyn pointed at them, and grinned. Rob got closer, and whispered in her ears.
“More than half of London's residents live in flats. And less than 1% of the residents own more than 70% of the space in this city.”
