“Now run,” I said simply, and then I bolted for the door, dragging Alec along behind me.
He lagged for less than a second before he caught up with what I was doing, and we sprinted for the staircase. The moment his foot left that pressure plate, there was another click and the hiss of released gas, followed by the snap of a lighter and the whoosh of released fire. Heat washed across my back, making the little hairs on my neck crackle, and the door bucked against the spanner jamming it in place. I kept hold of Alec’s hand. We didn’t have far to go. It was just a question of if we’d be faster than the rushing fire and the bucking door.
I hit the stairs first and flung myself up them, dragging Alec along with me as I took the steps two at a time, the heat still scalding my neck. At the top, I threw myself out into the hall and bounced off the opposite wall, hazarding a glance behind me just before I took off for the front door.
The flames, bright and angry and swirling around themselves, were following us up the stairs, moving ever faster now that they were being funnelled through a smaller space. I couldn’t see anything of the basement through all the red hot fire, and Alec’s panicked eyes met mine in the split second before we regained our balance after hitting the wall. Then we were sprinting for the front door, which Fletcher had thankfully left open for us.
“Get clear!” I screamed, hoping she could hear me and would follow my orders.
Three seconds later, Alec and I shot out of the house. We went ten more feet then flung ourselves to the side, rolling as I hit pavement and Alec hit grass. A jet of fire exploded over our heads, forced out the door by the force of all the flames behind it, and a second later, the windows exploded. I curled into a ball to protect my head as shards of glass rained down all around me, heat washing across my entire body, threatening to make my skin crack and bleed.
And in that instant, I was back on the Kraken’s houseboat as it burned around me. The same heat, and the same curling fire pressing at my back, and the only way out was the tiny window along the wall, barely large enough to fit through. I expected to hear gunshots at any instant, as I had that day, and I knew I should move, run, zig-zag, but I was trapped on the pavement as the fire still roared above me like a solid sheet of death, and all I could hear was the rumbling of my heart, coupled with the way the ground shook.
The fire streaming out the door probably only lasted a couple of seconds. But it felt like an eternity, like the ground had opened up and swallowed me, bearing me down to hell where the flames burned eternally. I just stayed curled on the ground with my arms around my head and waited for it to be over. I didn’t register it when the heat began to die down, my nerves too seared by the initial flood of heat down in the basement, and I didn’t register it when the roaring sound of the flames finally tapered off because my heart was beating too loudly and my breath rasped too harshly in my ears. I didn’t register anything until a hand gently fell upon my shoulder, and I flinched like I’d been shot.
“Callum, hey,” Fletcher’s voice said, but she sounded very dim and faraway. “It’s over, yeah? It’s okay. You’re okay.”
I slowly cracked my eyes open one by one, though my vision was hazy with smoke. I tilted my head back just far enough to spot Fletcher kneeling over me, her face full of fear and concern. At least the air was no longer on fire, though it was choked with ash and smoke and far hotter than it was supposed to be.
I got my hands under me and slowly pushed myself into a sitting position, cringing in pain. My hands were covered in about a dozen tiny nicks and cuts, all of them still bleeding, and one even had a small shard of glass stuck in it. My skin felt raw, like I’d gotten a nasty sunburn, and my neck ached as I craned it around to look back at the house. Barron’s place was still on fire, flames licking merrily out the broken windows, but it was at least no longer trying to actively escape its bonds.
“Alec?” I croaked, my throat raw from smoke inhalation.
“He’s fine,” Fletcher answered, nodding to the side where Alec had stumbled upright and was putting space between him and the burning house. There were several other people out on the street as well, drawn out by the fire and small explosion in a way they hadn’t been by the sound of fireworks going off. They stood outside their own houses and stared at the burning building with shock and horror on their faces, more than one phone to an ear as they called 999.
“Let’s get back,” Fletcher suggested. She helped me stand, and together, we staggered toward the street, the heat lessening with each step we took away from the fire. Alec met us at my car, and Fletcher leant me up against the bonnet so we could look back at all the devastation, our mouths slightly agape.
“So that went well,” I said raspily, and Fletcher let out a short, surprised laugh before she caught herself and grew sombre again. “There goes all that evidence, I guess.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Fletcher said. She glanced at Alec. “Both of you.”
“Thank you for staying,” Alec told me. He looked better off than I felt, though he was still bleeding from several cuts. “I don’t think I could have gotten out if you hadn’t been there to drag me along.”
Part of me wanted to try to lighten the mood by saying something flippant about how we still needed him for the case, or I didn’t want to explain to Ainslee that I’d gotten him killed, but I stilled the jokes on my tongue before they had a chance to form and nodded instead.
“You’re welcome,” I said.
“Emergency services are already on their way,” Fletcher said, nodding to a person who had just taken his phone away from his ear. “We should wait for them, explain what happened.”
“Alec, do you want to stick around and get those cuts looked at?” I asked, indicating the wounds peppered across his skin. “I’d understand if you want to get out of here before any more police arrive.”
Alec hesitated as he studied the blood on his hands and prodded one of the cuts on his face. “I should probably go. I’d rather not explain my presence to your boss. But if you need me again, I’ll come. I guess I owe you double now for saving my life.”
I nodded, accepting his decision. “I’ve got your number.”
“Okay then,” Alec said. He took a couple of steps away from the car, but he stopped before he’d gotten more than a few feet and turned back around, offering me a small smile. “Thanks again, MacBain.”
I gave him a weary thumbs-up, and Alec tucked his hands into his pockets as he walked off, ducking his head as he moved past the small crowd of gawkers. Sirens wailed in the distance, and he turned onto the next street just as the emergency vehicles zoomed onto this one, the fire engine accompanied by an ambulance and a couple of police cars.
“Ah, the cavalry,” I said as I plucked the shard of glass from my hand, wincing as it pulled at my skin.
Fletcher looked vaguely disgusted as I flicked the glass away. “I take it we’re leaving Alec out of the story?” she asked.
“Exactly,” I agreed. “Shouldn’t be hard. I’ll just say I was the one who triggered the explosion.”
The emergency vehicles screeched to a stop before us, and the firefighters immediately poured out of their engine and began to unravel their huge hose, spraying water over the house just as soon as they could. One of them jogged over to us as his fellows worked, two constables close behind him.
“Is there anyone else inside?” the firefighter asked me, his voice tense.
I shook my head. “No. We all got out.”
He nodded in thanks, then spun quickly on his heel to rush back to help the others while Owens and Fawkes took his place before me. Their familiar faces felt like balm on my cooked skin, even if their expressions were curdled with concern.
“What happened?” Owens asked. “Dunnel told us that you’d called to request a uniformed officer and Adam’s help, but then we got a 999 call coming from your location.”
“The place was booby-trapped,” I explained wearily. “I triggered one of them by accident, and the whole p
lace blew.”
Fawkes whistled as he looked over the burning building, which was beginning to steam with all the water the firefighters were pouring on it. “That’s some serious ordinance.”
“You can say that again,” I agreed.
“Do either of you need medical attention?” Owens asked.
I looked down at my hands, flipping them over a couple of times to check on the severity of my injuries. None of them looked deep enough to warrant stitches, so I shook my head. “Just some plasters,” I said. “Thanks, though.”
“Okay.” Owens didn’t sound like he totally believed me. “Well, we can take over the scene if you want. You both look like hell, no offence.”
“None taken.” I laughed. “I feel like hell.”
“Adams is still on her way,” Fawkes informed us. “Maybe she’ll be able to pick through the wreckage and find you something useful?”
“I doubt that,” I said. “I think the fire cooked everything like a well-done steak.”
“Fair,” Fawkes said, raising his eyebrows. “Obviously, you’ll want to check in with the station tomorrow, but I think you’re good to go home tonight.” He hesitated, realising he’d just given orders to a superior officer, but I clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a look to tell him not to worry about it.
“We appreciate that,” I said. “You know where to find us if you need anything.”
Fawkes nodded, then he and Owens went to confer with the firefighters who had their hands full, dousing all the flames. I stared at the house a couple of seconds longer, thinking of all the evidence that had been turned to ash, not to mention the art Alec had been looking at.
“Can you drive?” I asked Fletcher. My limbs were still trembling slightly from all the adrenaline in my system, and I wasn’t sure I had the energy to drive.
“Of course,” she said, and when I tossed her my keys, she rounded the car to the driver’s side as I let myself into the passenger's seat. I pushed the chair as far back as it would go so I could stretch out my aching legs, letting out a deep sigh as my reddened skin complained.
Fletcher wove her way carefully past all the emergency vehicles, then picked up the pace once we were in the clear. She didn’t drive at a breakneck speed like she usually did, taking the time at each corner and junction to check that no one was about to plough into us again. I forced my eyes to stay open, so I could keep watch as well, though exhaustion pulled at my every limb.
“So that was absolutely insane,” Fletcher said once we were on one of the main roads out of Scorguie.
“That’s one word for it,” I agreed, rubbing at my face with one bloody hand. “I’m just amazed none of us actually got hurt.”
“I would have stayed and helped if you’d told me what was going on,” Fletcher said, glancing at me for just a second before she looked back at the road.
“There wasn’t time, and if we were going to die, then one person needed to make it out.” I shivered despite the residual heat still clinging to my skin, and Fletcher gulped, obviously not a fan of that train of thought.
“What does this mean for the case?” she wondered.
“We’ve still got a lead on Smyth,” I pointed out. “So there’s that. It’s hard to say how Carmichael will react to all this. I think I need some sleep before I can really parse it out and come up with a plan. We should take the night to recoup, come back to it from a different angle in the morning when we’re rested. I don’t know about you, but I’m absolutely bushed right now.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Fletcher agreed. “I have to go to the station and pick up my car. Will you be okay getting home from there?”
“I’ll manage,” I said, though I didn’t think I’d actually be going home that night.
Eleven
Unfortunately, just after Fletcher dropped me off by my car, the doors to the police station pushed open, and Dunnel stepped out, the colour high in his cheeks and his posture stiffer than usual. I frowned at him as he waved me over. My keys were in my hand, and my car was right there. It would have been so easy to get in and drive away. I wanted to rest more than anything else in the world right then, but Dunnel was my boss, and I couldn’t ignore his call.
So I sighed, put my keys back in my pocket, and shuffled over to him, rubbing at the side of my face and smearing dirt into all my little cuts.
“Can’t this wait?” I asked Dunnel as we stood at the doors.
But he shook his head. “Come into my office.”
“If this is about what happened today, I’ll file all the paperwork tomorrow,” I began.
“It’s not,” Dunnel interrupted as he held the door open for me, and something in his voice made me hesitate, and I studied his face as paranoia prickled at the back of my neck, but he’d schooled his expression into impassivity, and I got nothing off him. “Let’s talk in my office.”
“Okay…” I said slowly, and as Dunnel stepped away from the station doors, I followed him, keeping back three feet and locking my eyes on his shoulders. The station was busy as it was that patch of time while the night shift was still in the process of taking over from the day shift, so there was double the number of people moving around the desks. They all parted for Dunnel, so we had an unobstructed path to his office on the far side of the room.
Dunnel waved me inside, then closed the door behind us. I remained standing as he also dropped the blinds and twisted the rod until the slats closed completely, hiding us from prying us. The hairs on my neck stood on end as I watched Dunnel work, and I flexed my fingers to try to calm myself down. This was Dunnel I was looking at. He was literally the most straight-laced, by-the-book person I knew. There was nothing untoward going on here. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation for why this couldn’t wait until tomorrow.
Once he was sure the office was secure, Dunnel moved behind his desk, but he didn’t sit. He just rested his hands on top of his chair and squeezed the leather for a second before he forced his fingers to relax.
“We need to talk,” he said to me.
“About what?” I asked cagily, moving so that I stood directly across from him, mirroring his posture. Maybe this was just about the fact that I’d brought Alec MacGowan in without consulting him. This didn’t necessarily have to have anything to do with the extracurriculars I’d been engaging in lately.
Dunnel sighed and rubbed at the side of his nose. It didn’t look like he wanted to do this any more than I did. “We need to talk about the houseboat fire that took place a few months ago.”
My spine stiffened, but I didn’t let it show on my face, or at least, I tried to hide my sudden rush of anxiety. I wasn’t entirely sure if I succeeded.
“What about it?” I asked. “I thought Owens had determined it was an accident?”
DC Owens had been assigned to the case, and I’d done my best to keep my involvement in the incident hidden, especially since he’d thought it was arson at first. Since most of the houseboat had sunk beneath the waves after it burned, forensics couldn’t find much in the way of evidence after the fact, and he’d eventually swapped his theory to it being an accident, though I didn’t think he was totally happy with that outcome.
“He did,” Dunnel said smoothly, and he was eyeing me just as hard as I was eyeing him. “But I need to ask you a question, and I need you to answer me straight. Were you involved?”
If only I were Fletcher and thus capable of making a joke about how it was impossible for me to give him a straight answer so I could cut the tension that was eating away at the room, threatening to swallow both Dunnel and me up. Instead, I had only seconds to think up an answer, to decide if I was going to lie to my boss or not. My heart was thundering away, making it hard to order my thoughts, but I eventually managed to force out a short little laugh and give Dunnel a small shrug.
“What? Why the hell would you think that?” I demanded.
It was the wrong thing to say. Dunnel’s expression immediately darkened, and with it, the lights in the
room seemed to dim. He rounded his desk and approached me. I held my ground, so we wound up standing nose to nose, staring right into each other’s eyes, and I really, really hoped he couldn’t hear the way my heart was pounding in my chest.
“I want you to think very carefully about your answer,” Dunnel began, speaking so quietly that it sent shivers down my spine. “I am your boss, and if you can’t trust me, you can’t trust anyone here. I just want the facts from you, got it? Do not lie to me right now. Lie to me, and we’re done. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal, sir,” I said and swallowed heavily, my throat so dry it got stuck, and I had to force the motion to finish. “What have you heard?”
“No, no, no,” Dunnel said sharply, shaking his head. “We’re not doing that thing where you learn what I already know and craft your answer to match. You’re going to tell me everything.”
I sighed and let my head droop. “Alright. I suppose that’s fair. You might want to sit down for this, sir. And do you have any whisky squirrelled away in that desk of yours?”
Dunnel eyed me a few seconds longer, clearly trying to figure out if this was some kind of stalling tactic on my part, but I just really wanted a drink. So he nodded shortly, and I sank into one of the chairs by his desk as he headed back to his tall, leather seat. He sat down and dug around in one of his drawers until he came up with a bottle of Macallan 12-year and two tumblers. He poured each of us a heavy couple of fingers and passed one of the glasses to me, and I knocked back about half of it before I began to explain.
“Yes. Alright. I was there. It’s… complicated.” I licked my lips and took another large swallow of the whisky. “Someone, who’s asked me not to name any names, I’m sorry, contacted me with information about my father. I agreed to meet them at their houseboat, but before they could tell me what they knew, someone else set the houseboat on fire with us in it.”
I paused to take a look at Dunnel’s face. He leant back in his chair with his glass in one hand, the liquid inside mostly untouched. His expression was mostly unreadable, but I still caught a note that he was listening intently and reserving judgement until the end, so that was something at least.
Fatal Transaction: A DCI MacBain Scottish Crime Thriller Page 15
