by Liz Mistry
The first big one was great, but I misjudged that and nearly died. I’m not beating myself up about that, though. I were just a fucking kid. I’ve learned since then. Learned loads… honed my craft. I’d tried to be too smart with that one. Should have planned it different. Shit, I was only a kid then and I was angry. So fucking angry. That fucking bitch, Amina, betrayed me. Made me think she’d take me home with her and we’d be together… a family. For fuck’s sake. Why would she do that to a child? Why would she destroy my hopes like that? Well, she got what she deserved, her and that stupid little bastard in her stomach. My only regret was that I missed seeing it. Missed the buzz of the flames licking the house, them bringing out the bodies… fucking bastard foster parents, fucking bitch social worker and fucking stupid fucking kids. Every one of them deserved it… deserved to die. No doubt about it.
After that, I was careful. My new mum and dad were easy to dupe. They never realised half of what I got up to and not once did they catch me out – idiots! The other fires were all smaller and, by necessity, less dangerous; old warehouses, the odd old mill, like the one in Thornton, a couple of houses… mind you, I couldn’t risk doing that too often.
I’d wanted to hang around near the front of the house, but someone might have recognised me and that would have been the end of my big plan. When the cops and fire brigade started to gather, I headed to the side of the building and waited there. Was an alright view, I suppose… Not the best, not the worst. The old woman in the house next door was deaf, so there was little chance she’d come out and find me lurking in her rose bushes. When that stupid copper came round the corner, camera held out a foot from his face, I skedaddled into the woods. Knew it’d only be a matter of time before the fire reached the back of the building. I climbed a tree and waited. The through-rush of flames, when it came, was amazing. Lit up the entire sky. Brilliant.
I should go back to the cellar, bide my time… wait for them to rescue me. With all the stuff I’ve planted in Kyle Button’s garage it wouldn’t take them too long to figure it out; the knife I used on that bitch, the duplicate keys for the church van and the cellar, the bloody ropes. Nobody will believe his innocence… especially when they turn up and find me, near-hysterical, starving and filthy. Anyway, he’ll be dead and that other cow Ali will be back in foster care. Hope she gets as royally fucked as I did. It’s the perfect revenge… The perfect crime. In the end, Kyle and Amina didn’t want me: still, I got the ultimate revenge.
Maybe just one last look before I head back. Just a peep!
87
04: 45 Redburn Drive, Frizinghall
The scene in front of the Button’s house had changed by the time Gus hobbled round with Taffy. Gus’ first thought was how similar it looked to the fire scene in Leeds when Amina Rose died. The paramedics were working on a bundled-up sooty figure. Gus realised that it must be Ali Button, because her dad, in mucky wet pyjamas with a hypothermia blanket slung over his shoulders, was wringing his hands, his gaze never leaving the shape on the trolley.
Some of the firefighters were managing the last of the blaze now and the rest were sitting on the floor, leaning against the fire engine, their helmets and equipment discarded in heaps by their feet. None of them spoke. Most had bowed heads, a few rested their foreheads on arms supported by bent knees. Despite the sweat and filth, Gus saw the deep-etched fatigue on their faces.
He approached Alice, who stood, pale-faced, watching the medics administer to Ali. Fuck’s sake. Sampson should be here with Alice. What the hell’s he playing at? He knows she’d been through a lot this week. His tone sharper than he’d intended, Gus said, ‘Where the fuck’s Sampson?’
Alice, moving as if her body weighed a tonne, turned to Gus and held out one hand. It seemed that even that tiny effort was too much for her, because she dropped it to her side almost straight away.
Gus stepped forward and put his good arm round her shoulder. He’d get the paramedics to look her over when they’d stabilised Ali. Alice had been through too much all at once. Shock must be setting in now. Alice shrugged his arm off. ‘He’s gone, Gus. Sampson’s fucking gone!’
Gus frowned. ‘Where the hell’s he gone? He should be here.’
Alice, bowed her head and began to weep. ‘He’s dead. He heard Ali yelling from the bathroom window at the side of the house and climbed up the drainpipe to get her. She must have frozen or something because next thing I see, he’d gone inside and he’s helping her out, holding her till she caught hold of the drain pipe. Then, a rush of air or something went through the house and Ali was thrown to the ground, and–’ her voice broke, ‘Sampson’s gone.’
88
04:55 Redburn Drive
Skirting round the woods and entering the cul-de-sac through a garden half a dozen doors away was easy. I knew the fire was on its way out. Only an experienced fire-setter like myself could smell the change in the quality of smoke hanging in the air. The accompanying hustle and bustle of fire engines and so forth, is gone. I’m taking a risk, I know that, but I’m so buzzed, I don’t care. I’ve always got Plan B to fall back on and I’ve been holed up in that fucking tomb for so long and this smoke-laden air is as fresh as it gets for me. I’ve waited so long for this… I deserve it.
I pull my hoodie right up and over my head. No-one will recognise me. I’ll stay well back, anyway. I’ll be careful, won’t get too close. The first thing I see as I approach the cordon is an ambulance with its doors open. Fucking Button’s standing outside it looking in. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I can almost feel the tension radiating off the man, but it’s not E-fucking-nough.
I kick the fence and a bloke with a dog a few gates down glances at me and then wanders off, letting his dog pull him away. That were close. Need to keep a hold of myself. Get a grip. Button’s still there, looking all sad and forlorn. Maybe Ali’s dead… or her slut mum, maybe even both. I grin. That might work. First the bastard loses his fiancée and his bastard child, now he loses Ali. Win, fucking win! I want to punch the air, but stop myself. Need to blend in, not stand out like… a giggle at a funeral. Should have set fire to her sooner. Maybe I will giggle at her funeral. That’ll teach her. I’ll piss on her grave for all the grief she’s caused me.
Does it matter that he’s not dead? Come on, Simon, think. Does it matter? He can deny everything, but what good will that do him? The stuff’s still in his shed, and I’ll still be locked in the cellar. When the idiot coppers finally trace the video footage it’ll lead them to him. No, it’s all good… cool. Well, not exactly cool… more scorching hot!
It’s a disappointment, though. I wanted him to die. A dead man can’t defend himself, after all. Suppose, though, I should celebrate. The more pain he has to deal with, the more pleasure for me to treasure.
A little away from the ambulance, a trio of coppers stand, huddled together looking like they’ve been slapped in the face. I screw up my eyes. The one with his arm in a sling might have been the one who chased me through the woods. Well, ‘chase’ is too strong a word. The idiot hobbled after me. If it hadn’t been for the other bloke being a bit faster on his feet, I’d have enjoyed toying with him. Could have led him a merry dance, all over Heaton Woods.
I edge forward. Want to get a better view of Ali or her mum in the fucking ambulance. Why aren’t they driving off. Must be serious. My heart speeds up, and I feel a familiar pumping on my veins. Even with the odd few slip-ups it’s worked out well. A yell from my right jolts me. It’s the fucker with the dog, pointing at me, shouting something. And he’s with another bloke. I spin round, ready to run to the left, then my fucking hood slips off.
89
04:55 Redburn Drive
It hadn’t sunk in. How could it? Gus had only been gone half an hour. How could one of his officers have died whilst he was hirpling around the woods? Not minutes earlier, he’d cursed Sampson… now the lad was dead. The fire chief came over and expressed his condolences, but Gus wasn’t listening, not properly. The chief had said something about retriev
ing Sampson’s remains later in the day. Gus didn’t want his remains. He wanted the quiet, dependable, slightly gauche lad back. He kept looking over at the smoking building, half expecting to see Sampson loping from the fire, his long-legged stride covering the distance to them in seconds. The desire to hobble over and into the building to look for Sampson himself was almost overpowering. The lad had been his responsibility. The only thing keeping Gus grounded right at that moment was his sense of responsibility for Alice and Taffy. He’d lost one officer, now he had to take care of the remaining two. Thank fuck Compo wasn’t here. He’d be inconsolable. Alice looked like she’d never come round again. Her eyes were huge and staring. Taffy looked like he was about to cry, but was trying to keep a brave face. Although, Gus wanted this night to be over, he knew he wouldn’t be going anywhere any time soon.
A glance at the cordon showed him that the vultures had already gathered. Jez Hopkins was talking to a man with a dog who was pointing beyond the ambulance. He’d be sniffing after a story, no doubt, and it wouldn’t be long before Sampson’s death leaked. Gus would have to make the death notice soon. Sampson’s family needed to hear this from him before it became public knowledge. However, he didn’t want to leave Alice and Taffy, not like this. He pinched this nose, just between his eyes. Shit. He’d have to tell Compo, too. Right now, the pain from his arm and leg seemed inconsequential. The death of one of his officers had created its own pain, right in his heart and Gus knew it would be a long time before it healed.
A yell from behind the cordon made him jump. He turned his head and saw Jez Hopkins moving towards a young lad in a hoodie, his cameraman following. ‘Simon? Simon Proctor?’
The name hung on the air for a long second before Gus reacted. Ignoring the pain in his leg, he moved towards the lad. Hopkins overtook him on his right and then the bloke with the dog overtook on his left. Cursing his inability to move fast, Gus lagged behind. The lad had a head start and Hopkins was unfit so he trailed behind. Gus was soon making better progress than the journalist. Then, another figure, smaller and faster, came from behind Gus. Two figures were gaining on the lad, herding him down to the main road, away from the woods. One was Taffy, who ran with the determined ease of a sprinter, the other was the bloke with the dog. The dog, who appeared quite overweight, all of a sudden ground to a halt and collapsed on the path. Taffy overtook the exhausted dog and its owner by jumping over the dog’s prone figure.
The hooded youth slipped on the slurry of foam that covered the road and landed on his back. Gus’ heart pounded in his chest. Taffy was gaining on him. Surely, they’d catch him now. The lad jumped to his feet but Taffy had gained on him. Taffy was within arm’s reach of Simon when he too succumbed to the slippery foam and fell forward, arms outstretched. As he fell, Taffy executed a rugby tackle that swiped the lad’s feet from under him. Taffy landed hard on his front and crawled towards Proctor. Simon managed to grapple a few feet away from Taffy until he got purchase and then jumped to his feet and took off.
With his face uncovered, Gus saw that the person they were pursuing was indeed Simon Proctor. His frustration was palpable as he yelled into the air. Realising he had no chance of catching the lad, Gus stopped and did the next best thing. Pulling his phone out he dialled, and still panting after his exertions, yelped down the line: ‘We need backup at the Button’s residence right now. Simon Proctor has been sighted and is attempting to evade capture. If he gets into Heaton Woods, we’ll need the canine division.’
Swerving to his left, Simon Proctor dodged into a garden and disappeared round the back of a house. Loud yells from the homeowner reached Gus’ ears as he, phone call complete, tried to reach the property. As he approached, gingerly navigating his way over the stream of foam, the pyjama-clad owner blocked Taffy’s path, gesticulating and apparently guiding Taffy away from the rear of the property where Simon Proctor had disappeared. Gus cursed and yelled, ‘Move your fucking arse, this is police business.’
Meanwhile, Taffy feinted to the right and then to the left and, succeeding in evading the man, he continued his pursuit. Jez Hopkins and his cameraman caught up, camera rolling. Gus snarled at them. ‘Turn the fucking camera off.’ He took a warning step towards them. Seemingly realising that Gus was in no mood for an argument, the cameraman lowered the camera as Gus said to a uniformed officer who’d approached, ‘Get any footage he’s got. I’m not having them use anything till we’ve cleared it.’
Jez Hopkins didn’t take the hint. ‘What’s he done? Is that Simon Proctor? Are you arresting him for Sue Downs’ murder? Why is he here in the vicinity of this fire? Are the two incidents linked? Is this fire the result of an arson attack? Did Simon Proctor light the fire?’
Gus channelled every iota of anger, frustration and grief into the look he directed at the reporter. ‘Back the fuck off. You want a statement from me, you get out of my hair right fucking now, okay?’
Hopkins looked chastened.
‘In that case, get back behind the cordon and let us do our job.’
As Hopkins and his camera man sloped off behind the cordon, Taffy, heaving the struggling teenager in an uncompromising grip, came back round the side of the building. His expression was jubilant and Gus heaved a sigh of relief. Thank fuck something’s gone right tonight. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind, when a figure in pyjamas hurtled past Gus. For a second, he thought it was the irate homeowner from earlier, but as the figure flung its entire bodyweight against Simon Proctor, pushing both the boy and Taffy to their backs on the footpath, Gus realised it was Kyle Button.
Kyle’s face was contorted as he shrieked and pulled his fisted hand back. Taffy struggled to get to his feet and Gus limped towards them. Fucking journalists, why couldn’t Hopkins have kept his stupid questions to himself. Now look what he’s started.
With a tortured yell, Kyle punched the lad in the face. ‘You little fucking bastard. You screwed my wife. You deserve this.’
Proctor, blood streaming from his busted nose, started to giggle uncontrollably and began to sing in an eerie high-pitched tone, ‘ start to light my fi…re. Set Amina Rose on fii…re.… Kill your little bastard child… make a fucking funeral py…re…’
For a second, Kyle sat on top of Simon’s chest and then, as the words of the song sunk in, he raised his hand to his face, shaking his head as if they would dislodge from his brain. ‘Nooooo!’
‘Your fucking bitch girlfriend promised me she’d look after me, take care of me. Bitch deserved to die. She was going to leave me with some other foster parents who’d just screw me up the arse like all the fucking others. She deserved to die, and so did Ali.’
Before Gus or Taffy could stop him, Kyle grabbed Simon’s head in both hands and began crashing it onto the road, punctuating each bang with a loud exhalation.
By the time, Taffy was on his feet and a firefighter had run over to pull Kyle Button off the lad, Simon Proctor lay unmoving, his eyes closed and blood pooling around him like a macabre halo. In the distance, another ambulance siren sounded. Gus looked up and saw Jez Hopkin’s cameraman recording the scene, but before he could say anything, Hopkins, mouth curled up as if he had a nasty taste in it, said, ‘We got Proctor’s confession. The tape’s yours.’
Turning to Taffy, Gus said, ‘Book him.’ He gestured at Kyle Button. ‘Then get an officer to accompany him to his daughter’s bedside.’
Much as he sympathised with Kyle Button, he also wanted to strangle the man. What he’d done to Simon Proctor had just sentenced him to jail time and Ali to yet another foster family. What a fucking mess.
He looked at where a firefighter and a paramedic were working on Simon Proctor’s unconscious body. ‘I know this is the last thing you want to do, Taffy, but I need you to accompany this fucker to the hospital and not leave his side till I get someone to relieve you. I need to go and speak with Sampson’s parents and notify the Proctors.’
Gus moved away from the bloody mess that was Simon Proctor and peered towards the ambulance
where he’d last seen Alice. She’d been near the ambulance. Where was she now? As his eyes raked the crowd; he saw two plain clothed police officers he didn’t recognise, near the ambulance. Between them stood Alice, her face pale and startled, eyes staring at him. A viper’s nest in his stomach writhed, releasing its venom into his bloodstream. The fireman who’d come to help Taffy, moved to his side and, without saying a word, put his arm under Gus’ good shoulder and helped him over to Alice. Gus glared at the two officers. ‘Can I help you?’ They were clearly out for Alice’s blood. Why else would they have turned up here to arrest her? They knew fine and well they could have got her just as easily on her return to The Fort.
The younger one flinched and looked away, but the older one held his gaze. ‘We’ve got to take her in. She’s been read her rights. She’s been relieved of her duties and will be held in remand in Downview Prison in Surrey.’
‘What?’ The word exploded like a grenade form Gus’ mouth, making the younger officer jump.
‘They’ve got compelling evidence in the Sean Kennedy case. There’s nothing I can do.’
