Watch You Burn

by KA Richardson

  ‘Any help I can get on this is appreciated – you can come round any time. If there’s anything else you need in relation to this lad let me know, I’ll have the report completed and sent over by the end of the day.’

  Ed felt a faint blush uncurl and spread across her cheeks – it was almost like flirting without there actually being any flirting. She knew Kev’s colleague, Jackson, had been listening too, at least at the start. His ears had all but pricked up at the thought of his boss and her together a few nights ago, but then bizarrely he’d moved off, obviously aware he was intruding. Still, she knew more than most how quick the grapevine worked – by the time Kev got back to the office, everyone in the nick would no doubt know he’d had his end away with the fire investigator.

  She surprised herself by not feeling ashamed. Apart from the sneaking off and not calling her thing, he seemed like a nice guy. And in his defence, she hadn’t actually given him her number, not that she remembered, anyway. For a second, she wondered how he’d come to be in the bar that night, then dismissed the thought. It wasn’t any of her business – it wasn’t like they were in a relationship or anything. He didn’t owe her an explanation anymore than he’d owed her a phone call. They were both adults. It felt good not to have to answer to her conscience for once. Just accept what had happened without argument or question. At least, that’s what she told herself in the cold light of day. Later, when she was alone, she might call herself into question again, but for now her mind was appeased.

  Flashing Kev a wide smile, she grabbed her clipboard and headed up the path to the gate at the top. And tried not to get her hopes up that he might call her.

  27th September, 1020 hours – Darlington University Campus

  Heather stood with Chloe and Susie beside the library building, looking over at Janelle and her friends. They were buzzing about something. She didn’t know what and she didn’t want to know. She did notice though, that Glen wasn’t present. It annoyed her that she’d started looking for him – she knew he wasn’t like the others, not really. But she didn’t want to be that girl – the hanger on, all clingy and desperate. It was that desire that stopped her picking up her phone and ringing him.

  ‘Stupid bitch – one day she’ll get hers, you know.’ said Chloe, glaring at the group with pure hatred in her eyes.

  ‘Karma will come around and bite her in the arse one day,’ replied Susie with a knowing nod.

  Heather knew they all hated Janelle, and for good reason. At one time or another they’d all been on the receiving end of her tactics. Sometimes the group was involved and sometimes it was just her. Not Glen though, he liked her. She was sure of it. And she liked him, more than she wanted to judging by the fluttering she felt in her tummy when she thought about him. She frowned a little – she knew her friends would never understand. Most of the time she didn’t even get it – he was the enemy, he had been there when Janelle had pushed her, scratched her, humiliated her, and not once had he ever stepped in to help her, or told Janelle to stop.

  She was certifiably nuts to like him. She knew that. It couldn’t have been more silly. But it didn’t stop her thinking about him. Thinking about the next time she’d see him. Feeling her cheeks grow warm, she glanced at the watch she’d positioned over the top of her bandage, and said, ‘Come on guys, we’d better move or we’ll be late.’

  27th September, 1240 hours – Darlington University Campus

  She’d been secretly pleased to see Janelle and her friends acting all frantic about Glen’s whereabouts. It had given her a thrill – I know something you don’t know. She knew something no one knew. And not just about Glen either.

  She wondered if his body had been found yet. It had been fascinating – watching the flames as they licked his skin, causing his clothing to stick and the skin to blister. They’d even flickered inside his open mouth – sizzling and spitting as they burned away any saliva he’d had left. If he’d still been breathing he’d have singed his throat as he inhaled, burning his trachea as he drew in the breath he so desperately needed. It hadn’t taken long for him to stop breathing – a lot less time than she’d thought it would, to be fair.

  Despite all the fires she’d set, all the times she’d sat and studied the flames, burn times, and accelerants, this was the first time she’d deliberately killed someone. The old man didn’t count – she hadn’t even known he’d been in the house when she’d set the fire. She hadn’t been able to stand and watch like she did last night. No amount of YouTube videos and book research could have prepared her for the thrill she’d felt as she’d watched Glen fight the fire, fight the fact that it was using his body as fuel.

  Even now she felt herself shudder inside.

  She had to do it again. She had to be able to watch – closer this time if at all possible. It was almost enough to get her to walk out of the lecture on physics – she hated physics. Chemistry she loved, the math behind the reactions were a doddle to her intelligent mind. Physics, though, was boring – who cared about force and momentum when you could mix chemicals together and cause amazing reactions. She’d never forget her secondary school chemistry teacher, Mr Isaacs – the day he’d shown the reaction between magnesium and potassium permanganate had been the highlight of the year – she’d been mesmerised as it had exploded into a bright blue flame. So beautiful she’d wanted to reach out and touch it. He’d seen her interest too, and presuming it to be about the chemistry, he’d given her additional coaching. The A she’d received in her early GCSE had been no problem for her and she’d done A-level at college on an evening when the rest of her class had been studying for their GCSEs – she’d studied too, naturally, but she was one of those awful people for whom learning came easily. She’d barely picked up a book until the week before the exams and had still left school with nine GCSEs, all grade B or higher. Her A-level had led her nicely onto her college course, and she’d quickly got a job working for one of the petro-chemical companies on the industrial estate at Newton Aycliffe. Eventually, though she grew bored – there was no challenge to it. So when her friends had suggested they all go to uni together and do the same degree in forensic investigation, she’d figured, why not.

  It wasn’t like she couldn’t afford it – all she’d done for the whole two years she’d worked was save. There wasn’t really a whole lot to spend her money on, not while she still lived at home.

  Refocusing on the class, she realised the lecturer had asked a question and the rest of the class was sat contemplating the answer. Quickly scanning the equations on the board, she put her hand up.

  ‘2400 metres squared.’

  ‘Correct. Now, if we put a dog on a ferris wheel…’

  She zoned out again, wanting to start making notes and plan her next hit. She grinned at the thought – she supposed she was kind of assassin-like – sitting there planning her next murder without a care in the world. Well, not many cares anyway, at least she wouldn’t have once they were all dead. Every last one of them.

  6

  Heather had to admit she was now worried. She’d put off ringing Glen all morning, thinking he’d just turn up late and full of excuses. But if Janelle and her friends had looked worried all morning, they now looked petrified.

  It wasn’t even like she could just walk over and ask them where Glen was. No one knew about them. She’d tried ringing him a couple of times at lunch time – no reply. He hadn’t checked in on Facebook either, or tweeted a word. She didn’t have his home number or she’d have been tempted to try him there. Maybe he was just ill or something? But he’d have replied. Heather knew he would have.

  Taking a deep breath, she left Chloe and Susie by the queue for the coffee stand, and made her way over to where Janelle stood whispering with her friends.

  Her eyebrows raised as Heather approached, Janelle sneered, ‘And what the hell do you want?’

  ‘Erm, I just wanted to ask if Glen was ill or something? He erm, he – ’

  ‘He what? Conned you into lending him notes
or something? Check out her little doe eyes. Maybe she’s got the hots for him or something?’

  Heather couldn’t stop her cheeks burning a deep, dark red. What was I thinking? It’s not like she’d even give me a straight answer anyway.

  ‘Sorry, I just thought I’d ask – he borrowed one of my books and I wanted it back.’

  ‘I don’t think so. Glen has all the course books for this year. No way he’d ever borrow one off the likes of you anyway. What’s the real reason you’re asking? Was I right – do you have the hots for little Glen. And he’s very little, believe me – I should know. Been screwing his brains out for the last six months on and off.’

  Heather couldn’t hold it in anymore. ‘Liar,’ she said. ‘Glen isn’t doing you. He doesn’t have a girlfriend.’

  ‘Never said I was his girlfriend now did I? Blaze, you need to check yourself. You’re coming across all besotted and I know for a fact he’d never touch you with someone else’s cock, let alone his own. Now run along. Wherever he is, he’s not thinking about you, you stupid cow. It’s bloody pathetic – hankering after someone you’ll never have like that. Now go fuck off back to your coven, you little witch, and stay the hell away from Glen. Or I’ll do more than break your bloody hand.’

  Tears filled Heather’s eyes – she was certifiable. What the hell possessed her to come and talk to Janelle voluntarily? She couldn’t cope with this shit. It had taken all her guts just to come over. Janelle’s been screwing Glen? Her mind taunted her with thoughts of the two of them together – their limbs entwined as they both cried out in pleasure. She knew she couldn’t go back to class today, knew that she couldn’t face either her friends or Janelle again. So she turned, held her head as high as she could though she felt like dropping to the floor and having a full on toddler tantrum, and walked out of the cafeteria.

  Wherever Glen was, she was sure he wasn’t worth this hassle. She liked him, a lot, had even thought maybe he was different. But to find out he’d been screwing her worst enemy as well as her – well that was just the ultimate betrayal.

  Heather swiped her hand across her face – there was no way she was shedding tears over something like this. Like Janelle had said, it was pathetic. You’re pathetic her mind taunted back, and not for the first time, Heather listened.

  She needed to go home. Now. Before her mum came home from work. If she was already in her room, she wouldn’t be bothered by anyone.

  Which should give her enough time to get rid of the horrible thoughts flooding through her mind. She already had what she needed – it had been under her bed for ages. Leaving the campus, she phoned a taxi to come and pick her up from the petrol station nearby.

  It was most definitely time to take her destiny into her own hands and stop letting other people dictate the world to her.

  27th September, 1730 hours – Major Incident Team Room, Darlington Police Station

  DS Dan Slater glanced round the room at those waiting patiently for the meeting to start. The inspector, Duncan Frances, sat at the other end of the table waiting for the update – not one to get his hands dirty when he didn’t need to, Frances had climbed the ladder through the fast track system, getting prime pickings at promotion when they had a degree under his belt. Frances made no secret of the fact he’d earned his degree at Cambridge – much to the consternation of the cops who worked their arses off just to get their sergeant stripes. Not him, of course – Dan had a degree too, not that he ever advertised the fact. And he certainly never used it to gain favour or climb the ladder – he’d learned more from the school of hard graft than he had at university. And he had the life skills he needed to do his job well too.

  Ten years on the force and he’d never got used to that look – the one grieving parents gave when confronted with the news that their child was dead. The one that said No, you’re a liar, it’s not true. Dan’s eyes narrowed, he’d bet his bloody pension that Frances had never seen that look, or at any rate never taken it on board for what it really was.

  Glancing around again, Dan delayed starting the meeting, taking in the faces of his team, and his colleagues. His team looked alert, ready to work, which was how he’d expect them to be. He knew they’d been running down potential leads all day in relation to the crispy body had indeed turned out to be Glen Peacock. Such a waste – the thought came to him for about the tenth time that day. It was a waste – Peacock had been only twenty years old – just weeks away from his twenty-first birthday. He’d had his whole life in front of him. What had gone so badly wrong that a kid like that had ended up a blackened corpse? Taking a breath, he asked the same question of his team.

  27th September, 1800 hours – Major Incident Team Room, Darlington Police Station

  Kev had sat there in the freezing office for over half an hour now – typical police force putting the heating on in summer and then not leaving it on for the current cold snap. Slater had gone through the leads with his team first, knowing that they needed to get out of the meeting and back to the grindstone if they were going to find who’d killed the lad at the allotment.

  Finally, Slater directed the appropriate questions towards him and Jason who was sat next to him.

  After a nod from Jason, Kev spoke first. ‘Fire investigator’s report should be in your inbox about now, boss. It says what we’ve already gone over earlier by phone – the fire was set deliberately using a form of accelerant, presumed at present to be diesel, as a tank of this was located on the allotment site, and residue in the tap indicated it had been drawn from recently. An exact match will be determined by chromatography of the samples we’ve sent to the lab.

  ‘Me and Jackson also recovered several footwear casts – they took a while to dry with the showers this afternoon, but we’ve got a distinctive left and right foot, same design on the soles. Approximately a size eight so potentially from a male or a female. We’ve bagged a small piece of material that had snagged on the barbed wire on top of the three-foot fence separating our scene from the allotment next door. Could potentially be matched like for like if suspect’s clothing comes to light.

  ‘No fingerprint evidence on the shed or gasoline tank, however there may be a possible partial on fragments of the glass from what’s presumed to be the lamp used to ignite the accelerant. It’s been sent over to the lab and they’re rushing the examination through so anything coming to light should be available tomorrow.

  ‘No DNA evidence for our offender. Nothing else of note other than indentations in the grass in the next allotment – it looks like whoever did it stood and watched the victim burn for a while.’

  Kev sat back, happy that his bit was done for now. He already knew what had been found from the PM – the kid had been alive when he was set on fire; whether the toxicology brought up anything else, he wouldn’t know yet. Jason had even managed to get fingerprints – the body had definitely been a match to the ID recovered, and that had left two very confused and angry parents demanding answers.

  27th September, 1805 hours – Heather’s residence

  Heather had been home for a while. The house had been silent when she’d entered – it darkened her mood even more. Part of her had hoped her mum would be in, so she couldn’t go through with what she’d had planned. She’d thought about it all the way back from uni. She had everything she’d need – the pills, the drink, even her trusty razor blade.

  In her heart, she felt that if she weren’t there then everything would be better, not just for her but for everyone else too. Her head was screaming at her now though – logically reminding her that killing herself would hurt her family, her friends. But they’ll survive. They don’t know how hard it all is. She felt tears fill her eyes and spill over and down her cheeks – again. It felt like all she’d done for the last fortnight was cry.

  She picked up the pills, the bottle warm in her hand. She’d been stockpiling tablets for ages. It would stop it all – it would get rid of Janelle and stop all the bullying forever.

  Heather wiped her
tears with the sleeve of her jumper, feeling her hand throb in response to the movement. The painkillers would stop that hurting, too. Maybe they would even stop her heart from being torn in two.

  Janelle was right – she was pathetic. After just nine weeks, she realised she’d fallen in love with Glen despite her better judgement. She’d let her guard down and slept with him about six weeks before for the first time, and it had been everything she’d wanted it to be. He’d carefully avoided mentioning Janelle, and she’d purposely not mentioned anything. When she was with him, she’d felt like everything had been normal – that all of her problems were the same as everyone else’s – not like an adult being bullied in a world where she should be safe.

  Her face hardened – it had all been a lie. She was sat there thinking about Glen when it had been a lie. He’d slept with Janelle. God knows how many times. He was using you. He probably went back to Janelle and laughed about it all every time he saw you.

  Heather knew her mind was being cruel, but she was too weak to get past it. Normal girls who found out the man they’d been seeing was cheating would fly into a rage, slap him, scream at him, maybe scream at the other woman. But all Heather felt was complete uselessness. It had all meant bugger all – she’d let her guard down and let her emotions rule, and for what? To have it all thrown back at her from the foul-mouthed she-devil herself.

  She held the pill bottle in the crook of the elbow of her injured arm, and used the other hand to twist the top off. Her computer was already loaded with the note she’d written ages ago. Swallowing her sobs, she tipped the bottle into her mouth, feeling the cool tablets settle on her tongue, trying not to gag at the bitter taste. She took a huge gulp of cola from the glass on the stand beside her, washing the tablets down her throat and into her stomach with a sudden calmness.