by Liz Mistry
‘Well, in all the kerfuffle in the shit hole after I mouthed off, the giant fired that damn rifle into the air. He was not a happy bunny. Not one to take a telling from a woman, never mind one a fifth of his size. Mind you, from the holes in the ceiling, I got the impression he did that a lot… fired into the air, I mean. Anyways, all hell let loose. Everyone had guns, except the women, surprise, surprise. Guns were going off… this is what happened, here.’ She pointed to the gash across her forehead. ‘Just a graze, though. Then you lot must have triggered off an alarm, for at that moment a klaxon blared in the clubhouse and they all started to charge outside, chains, knives and guns in their hands.’
‘Any injuries?’
Alice shrugged. ‘A couple of minor ones on our side. The women were in a bad way and I’m pleased to say most of the bikers sustained, at the very least, a hard kick from me.’
‘What about the stuff?’
‘Hell yeah! Bloody bastards had dug out a cellar space that they hid with a mangy old rug. They found the guns and all, down there.’
‘We get our two?’
Alice’s smile nearly split her face. ‘Hell yeah! Bastards are en route to The Fort as we speak.’ Her gaze clouded. ‘However, we’re not getting to do the interviews. Nancy’s passed it onto vice to deal with. Gives them greater ammunition if they tie the two together, but at least we know that two of them will go down for what they did to Jade.’
Gus closed his eyes. ‘Thank God. At least Jade’s parents will get some closure.’ He waited a minute and then opened his eyes again, ‘Al, do you think you could just have a look and see what’s happening with my arm and leg.’
Alice snorted, ‘Fuck’s sake Gus. It’s only a bit of blood.’
One of the paramedics pulled his mask down. ‘Your arm’s a bit of a mess, nothing a good clean and stitches won’t fix. Your leg’s only got a surface bite. You’ll be right. Good job you wore some extra layers. That’ll have helped a little.’
Gus scowled – it was only as an afterthought that he’d taken Mickey’s advice and worn extra layers. Not that he’d tell her that, though!
84
02:45 Bradford Royal Infirmary
Gus looked down at the useless pile of shredded clothes the doctor had cut off him so she could get access to his wounds. The twelve stitches to his swollen and bruised arm had increased the throbbing from dull to screeching. He was relieved when the doctor gave a morphine injection and handed him a container with some neurontin in it. The skin on his leg, though sore, wasn’t broken and Gus was relieved to have only one addition to his scar collection. When the door opened, admitting Alice, he tried to pull the short hospital robe down to cover his thighs.
‘Seen it all before, Gus, and believe me it’s nothing to write home about,’ she said, plonking down on the edge of the bed, causing it to bounce which, in turn, jolted his bruised body.
‘Fuck’s sake, Al, I’m the patient here. Can’t you be a little less rough?’
She pointed to the butterfly stitches across her forehead. ‘So am I. You don’t have a monopoly on injuries tonight.’ She ran her fingers over the stitches. ‘You think I’ll have a scar?’
Gus couldn’t help grinning at the hopeful tone in her voice. ‘Here’s me wishing I had a few less war wounds and you’re bloody gloating about it.’
Before Alice could respond, Gus heard a voice he recognised drift down the corridor outside. Shit! He glared at Alice, who was attempting to look innocent. ‘Did you phone her?’
Shrugging, Alice picked at the bed sheet. ‘The doctor wanted to discharge you and I reckoned you would want to head straight back to The Fort and wouldn’t want to wear that thing.’ She pointed to his lilac hospital gown. ‘Appealing though you look in it, I thought you’d rather not give that knob Knowles any more ammunition to slag you off.’
She had a point, but Gus was damned if he’d admit it. As the door opened, he sent her a look that said, ‘We’re not done here’ and pasted a smile on his face, as his mother bustled in, followed by his dad. Corrine McGuire reached over and cupped his cheek in her hand, inspecting his face before lowering her glance to his arm which, much to Gus’ relief, was bandaged and in a sling, thus concealing the extent of his injuries.
‘It’s only a wee graze, Mum. Nothing to worry about and the skin on my leg’s not even broken. They’ve just discharged me.’
His dad, holding a Kana Peena supermarket bag, stepped forward and dumped the bag on Gus’ lap. ‘Clothes!’
Gus frowned at his father’s abrupt tone, but when he looked at him, he realised his dad’s lower lip was quivering. Shit! Gus had been so worried about the effect this would have on his mum, he hadn’t stopped to consider his dad might be affected too. He reached out a hand. ‘I’m alright, Dad. Nothing a few days with my arm in a sling won’t heal. I’m heading back to work in a minute, as soon as I can get dressed. The doctor’s given me the all-clear.’
His dad took a large white hankie from his pocket and blew his nose, the sound as loud and discordant as a ship on the North Sea in the fog. ‘I know you’re fine, laddie. It was your mother who was worried. I’ve just got a bit of a cold, that’s all.’
Alice, concealing her grin, winked at Gus as his mum tutted and set about pulling the clothes from the bag. ‘I brought you jogging pants, Angus. Much easier to get on with one hand and they’re fleece-lined so they’ll be soft on your poor wee leg.’ She pulled a large jumper from the bag and scrunched it up from the waist to the armpits before deftly putting it over Gus’ head and easing it down so he could pull his injured arm from the sling and put it in first. His dad edged her out of the way and repeated the process with the bottoms. Gus, all too aware of Alice’s amusement, scowled at her. He knew better than to try to do it himself. He knew that the best therapy for his parent’s anxiety was to feel useful, so he’d put up with feeling like a five-year-old for a few minutes, if it made them happy.
He’d just, with his dad’s help, managed to stand up, when the door burst open once more and his sister Katie walked through, out of breath and with a stethoscope draped round her shoulders.
‘Shit, Gus, only just heard. You okay?’
‘Course I am.’ Truth was, he was knackered and sore, yet the sight of his family with their concerned glances, warmed him inside like nothing else could.
‘Gabriella’s on her way, too.’
‘For God’s sake, Katie, did you call Mo and Naila too? Talk about the bloody jungle drums beating. Who needs them when you’re on the case?’ He glanced up and saw his sister’s sheepish look. ‘Aw for fuck’s sake, Katie, you did, didn’t you? You called Mo and–’
The door opened and Mo, Naila and Gabriella piled into the room, all chattering at once and all fighting to get close to the bed.
‘Right, that’s it!’ Gus raised his voice. ‘It’s nice of you all to come, but I’m busy right now. Got a murderer to catch and all that, so… I’ll see you all later,’ and with Alice trailing behind, he limped out of the room.
He’d reached the end of the corridor when his dad shouted after him, ‘Wait up, Gus. Wanted to fill you in on the post-mortem on the girl found at Cottingley Ridge.’
Gus stopped and waited for his dad to catch up.
‘Looks like you caught something good, Dad?’
‘Whoever did this thought the bleach would be enough to cover his tracks… and it would have been, except for one very lucky break. The dozy bugger had traces of semen on his fingers, and when he strangled her, like so,’ his dad made a circle of both hands with his thumbs to the front, ‘traces of said semen transferred to the back of her neck, where, I surmise, her hair protected it from the bleach.’
‘You’re telling me you got enough for a DNA sample?’
His dad’s grin told him he was right. ‘Bloody brilliant, Dad. Just brilliant.’
‘I’ve sent it to the labs and expedited it. Asked them to compare it to the semen found at the Proctor’s house in case it matches with that.’ His dad
flung his arm round Gus’ shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. ‘I’m glad you’re okay. You gave us a fright and I could do without any more of those for the foreseeable future.’
Gus squeezed back. ‘Me too, Dad, me too. Now, go and collect the troops and tell them all to go home.’
Relieved to take the weight off his leg, Gus leaned on the wall as the lift took them down to the ground floor. When the doors opened, Alice helped him on with his blood-stained fisherman’s coat before they walked out into the night air. A freezing fog had descended, making the wheelchair users with their drip stands congregated in the smokers’ shelter look like alien shadows against the backdrop of subdued hospital lighting, escaping through the ward curtains.
‘Should have got you a wheelchair,’ said Alice, eyeing him limp down the ramp.
Gus shook his head. ‘Nah, it’s–’ but the sound of his phone ringing in his pocket interrupted him. With some difficulty he managed to locate it and answer.
He listened for a few seconds, before speeding up. ‘Come on, Alice, looks like the Buttons’ house is on fire. Let’s get there now.’
In the distance he could hear the screeching of fire engines and, as they headed for the waiting car driven by a uniformed officer, two ambulances, blue lights blazing, exited the hospital car park and headed towards Frizinghall.
85
03:35 Redburn Drive, Frizinghall
Despite the fog, Gus could see the lick of flames on the skyline as they approached Redburn Drive. For a second, he was transported back to the fire where Simon Proctor nearly lost his life and where Kyle Button’s fiancée and unborn child died.
Before he’d even got out of the police car, smoke clogged his throat and his eyes started to water. Peering through the crowds of people, Gus looked for his team and located Sampson and Taffy setting up a boundary so the firefighters could work. As he approached, he saw that the paramedics were standing outside their ambulances, trollies and equipment at the ready. A row of firefighters were training hoses on the building, trying to damp the flames that were coming from a downstairs window. An explosive crash, followed by a roar of flames, halted Gus in his tracks. An upstairs window burst and flames escaped, reaching out like sparking fingers, roaring and ferocious. He hoped that Ali and her dad had managed to get out.
Peering through the smoke which competed in density with the fog, Gus, eyes streaming, grabbed Sampson’s arm. ‘Who’s still inside?’
Sampson’s face was streaked with soot, the whites of his eyes, in sharp contrast to his skin, seemed larger than usual. He turned to Gus and Alice, his shoulders slumped, and glanced towards the burning building. ‘Both of them. The two firefighters who went in haven’t come back out yet.’
Resting his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, Gus squeezed. ‘We’ve got a job to do, so let’s do it.’ He pulled Sampson away from the crowds and gestured for Taffy and Alice to join them.
‘I don’t believe in coincidences and this fire, coming hot on the heels of everything we discovered earlier, makes me suspicious. If this is arson, and I’m aware we don’t know that for sure, however if it is, we need to be on the ball. We’ll split into pairs and take a different section of the perimeter. Alice and Sampson, you’re taking the front of the house. Start in the middle and one of you head one way, one go the other. Taffy, you and I will take the rear of the property. We’re looking for any suspicious characters. I want you to photograph as many of the onlookers as you can.’
Taffy frowned. ‘Why?’
Alice slapped him on the back. ‘Because, my young Padawan, if this is arson, the tosser who set fire to the Buttons’ house will be standing in a corner having a wank.’
‘Eh?’ Taffy cast a furtive eye round the crowds and Alice rolled her eyes. ‘Not literally, idiot.’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘Well, I hope not, anyway. No, I meant figuratively. They get off on watching the fire and the fall-out scene afterwards. Look out for people who are recording the scene and also for those keeping themselves a little distant. Compo can use the images to get information on them.’
Gus headed for the back of the building by accessing a wide perimeter through the neighbour’s garden. He’d directed Taffy to do the same on the left side. If anyone wanted to watch proceedings from a distance, the back of the property was the best bet for them. With the garden backing onto Heaton Woods, a voyeur could watch what was going on in private. If anyone was there, Gus wanted to be sure to get them.
On the other hand, a sensible arsonist would mingle with the crowd – but Gus was counting on the fire-maker, if it was a deliberately set fire, being Simon Proctor. Things were stacking up too conveniently against the lad and Gus wasn’t about to risk losing him.
At the end of the neighbours’ garden, Gus was relieved to spot a wooden gate leading into the woods. He carried his phone in one hand, while his other, released from its sling, was too tender to be up for anything strenuous. He stepped through the gate and found himself on a mucky path that led up through the woods to the top of Ashwell Road. Earlier in the year they’d found a body not so far from here.
He began to edge his way up the path, his eyes swinging from left to right. Behind him the fire crackled and spat noxious fumes into the air. The neighbouring houses, lit up like beacons, afforded a degree of light at the back of the property and cast moving shadows as the trees swayed in the gentle breeze. Through the foggy smoke, every tree took on a life of its own and Gus soon realised that even if he came across someone, he’d be unable to get a decent photo in the half light, so he slipped his phone back into his coat pocket and focussed on trying to discern any sudden movement in the trees.
The fire was concentrated to the front of the property, so Gus’ hopes of seeing the arsonist in the woods diminished. He only hoped the others had more luck. A sudden increase in activity from the front of the buildings made him pause. Unintelligible yells, frantic and imperative, crescendoed over the fire’s roar, sending shock waves through Gus’ body. With his good arm, he yanked at the hedge that bordered the Buttons’ garden and peered through. A dull orange glow became visible through the back-room windows, then, in a gust of flying glass and debris, the windows burst open and flames roared through.
Scorching heat blasted over him. The heat stung his face and the fumes engulfed his nostrils. If Ali and Kyle Button were still inside when that happened, Gus knew they’d be dead.
A figure approached, walking down the path. Gus tensed and stood still. His eyes were still reacting to the amber brightness of the flames and he had trouble focussing. The figure kept approaching and Gus reached for his phone. The figure continued at a snail’s pace until, with a flurry of limbs, it pedalled the air and landed with a thud on the path. ‘Fucking leaves.’
Gus grinned and returned his phone to his pocket. It was Taffy. He was about to yell to the officer, when movement in his peripheral vision, followed by a dull thump, had him spinning round. Still blinking against the orange dots that clouded his sight, Gus saw a figure balled up under a tree, about ten yards away from him. Whoever it was had jumped from one of the wide branches. As Gus stepped forward, it unfurled into a standing position, spun on its heels and took off into the woods.
Gus, hobbling, took off in pursuit. ‘This way, Taffy.’
Within seconds Taffy had overtaken him and, with Gus lagging behind, hared off the track, between the trees. After a few metres, Gus admitted defeat. He wasn’t fast enough in his current state and there was no guarantee that the person they’d chased had set the fire. Only too aware that there were many nefarious deeds one could get up to in Heaton Woods should you be that way inclined, Gus leaned against a tree, cradling his aching arm. Although the possibility existed that dodgy wiring could be responsible for the blaze, it would take a fully certified fire appraiser’s report before Gus was convinced of that.
Taffy returned a few minutes later, panting and cross. ‘Lost the fucker, Gus. Too damn dark to see a thing in among the trees.’
The pair of them, with Taffy lending a much-needed shoulder to Gus, headed back through the woods. The exertion had exacerbated both Gus’ arm and his leg, so when Taffy suggested he slip his arm back into his sling, Gus did so with no demur. All he’d got for the exercise was more pain, streaming eyes and an annoyed Taffy. Aw well, perhaps Sampson and Alice will have fared better.
86
04:15 Heaton Woods
That had been fucking close! I rub my hands together and blow on them. Fucking close! What a fucking buzz! My heart’s pumping, entire body’s thrumming. It’s like I’m an extension of the fucking fire. ‘you light my fire… fucking desire… you light my fire…’
My nerve endings are as alight as the Button’s fucking house. I pump my fist in the air, before flinging myself onto the grass under an oak tree. Too fucking wired to bother about the damp or the cold, too damn wired! Nearly couldn’t run with my hard-on. Thought the fuckers were going to catch me for a minute. Shit, all the blood went to my todger and I nearly got caught. That would’ve been good, wouldn’t it? Arsonist tripped up by his hard-on! Fucking ace!
Can hardly hear the fire noise from here, so I shut my eyes and replay it all, from the petrol through the broken windows, to chucking my bloody clothes in, to that feeling of power when I strike the match over the match box. Aaaah, fucking good… aaah, beautiful. Then the whoosh of flames, the colours, orange, blues, reds, yellow. Fingers of flame eating up the building, building up – spreading – faster… and the smell, petrol, smoke, burning toxic wood, aaah! ‘Fuck that put me on fi…iiire!’
I catch my breath, savour my heartbeat slowing down, the sweat drying on my forehead. Left a little gift for the woodland creatures, didn’t I?
It had been so easy… almost too easy. I’d wondered if I’d have to wait for ages till they went to bed, but the lights were off when I got there… and the rest, as they say, was history. There’s something so pure about setting a fire. I’ve always loved it, since I was a little kid and swiped some matches and made little fires from old porno mags round the back of the school. There’s always loads of places you can find to make fire, so that’s what I did. It’s important to be able to control the fire… to master it… be the boss. Over the years there have been so many and I’ve never been caught. This one is the second biggest… the second most important. It’s all about finishing the job… getting it done.
