Watch You Burn

by KA Richardson

  ‘Stop a sec,’ he said, his gaze homing in on an older male, walking a scottie dog.

  ‘Excuse me, sir, I’m with the police. Have you noticed a blue van go down this road in the last fifteen minutes or so?’

  ‘ID, sonny,’ replied the man, squinting through the open window at Ali. Silently, Ali retrieved his warrant card from his pocket and showed the man. ‘Blue van you say? Well the only one that frequents round here is the one belonging to Mr Bairdon, lives up at Oakdale Cottage just up the way. Be my reckoning that his van went past about the time you’re saying.’

  Ali couldn’t stop his eyes widening with surprise. ‘Thank you, sir.’

  Gary was in the process of easing the handbrake off, when the man put his hand on Ali’s arm. ‘Track entrance is about fifty yards after the house at the top of the hill there. Haven’t seen him for a while mind, but his nephew’s always coming and going. Don’t pay no mind to gossip myself you understand, but the old women down the club would have you believe he’s a water fairy. Big bloke he is. So, if you’re taking him down, you’ll probably need his help.’ The man nodded over towards Gary, who smiled at him.

  As the car pulled off, Gary said, ‘Water fairy? I’m sure those bulky firemen just love that term, huh?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ replied Ali with a half-smile, ‘Pull over just after the hill. I don’t want to spook him if it is Webb.’

  As Gary pulled the car over, Ali glanced over at him. ‘Both of you wait here for back up, I’m gunna go have a casual wander around.’

  He saw Gary glance round at Clare, a look passing between them.

  ‘I know protocol guys, but I’m going for a scout and I’m going alone. That way if anything happens, it’s on me. I’ll take it easy.’ He gave one shake of his head as he put his radio on the dash, and jumped out of the car.

  Ali was glad he’d grabbed his thicker coat on his way out of the office. It looked much less obvious than the suit jacket he wore underneath. If he was spotted, he’d just look like someone out for a walk. Probably. If he didn’t get blown up first. He knew he should’ve waited for back-up. He was going to get roasted, for this he was sure. But he couldn’t just leave Edina out there. Waiting for the bomb squad and everyone else to arrive would take ages.

  He pulled his collar up to protect his neck from the chill in the air, yanked the zip to the top and put his hands in his pockets before walking up the track.

  8th October, 1820 hours – Farm on the outskirts of Blackwell, Darlington

  Ali saw the farm looming ahead and stopped for a moment, leaning against a large tree as he gave it the once over.

  Nothing moved.

  He focused on the windows, checking for movement inside, but again saw nothing.

  He pulled out his mobile phone, glancing down at the screen periodically as he made his way into the farm-yard, making it look like he was texting and was distracted just in case anyone had noticed him.

  Still nothing moved.

  Reaching the front door, he tried the handle slowly, surprised when the door swung inwards. It creaked loudly – the hinges obviously in need of oil, and he held his breath for a long minute, half expecting Cam to rush him from one of the doors off the hall.

  Silently, he made his way inside and down the darkened hallway.

  The living room door was ajar to his left, and he gave it a nudge to open it. His eyes widened as he saw the body of an old man lying in the middle of the floor – he was obviously dead, had been for a few days looking at the state of him. His skin had mottled where he lay, his eyes were open and opaque in colour. Large welts covered the side of his head and pointed to blunt force trauma as cause of death.

  Ali paused, he knew he should ring it in – at least let the superintendent know where he was, but he knew it would mean wasted time. He hadn’t even checked the rest of the house yet. Ringing supervision might alert Cam to his presence. Decision made, he left his phone in his pocket and backed out of the living room, leaving it exactly as he’d found it.

  He glanced through the open door into the large dining room to the right – piles of newspapers and belongings littered the floor, untidy and chaotic, but Ali knew there’d be some semblance of order to the old man. When he was alive he’d have known exactly where everything was.

  The smell from the kitchen hit him as he wandered through the door – dirty dishes piled up beside the sink, food stuffs and mould clinging to what had obviously been there much longer than the few days the old man had been dead. A clink next to the cooker drew his gaze and he saw a brazen mouse sat on the surface eating a dried up piece of bread.

  In the corner an overturned chair lay next to the grubby, fold-down table. Blood lay on the floor around the chair – the red was stark against the pale laminate, and Ali felt bile rise into his throat. Shit, I’m too late. He’s killed her already.

  He took in a shaky breath – and headed for the door to the garage.

  One quick look inside had him retreating into the kitchen. The garage was small, the van took up most of the room.

  Edina wasn’t there.

  Pausing, Ali stood and thought.

  Maybe the blood wasn’t hers, maybe she’d clocked Webb and ran. Which way though? He knew the front of the house led into the yard, but Ed wouldn’t have, not if she was in the back of the van as he suspected.

  Which meant she’d have made for the back door – it was the closest.

  He noticed more spots of blood on the floor leading out of the back door – and followed them.

  25

  8th October, 1825 hours – Farm on the outskirts of Blackwell, Darlington

  Ed had tried a few more times to push Cam’s dead weight off her, but it hadn’t worked. She just couldn’t get enough of an angle to make him roll off her. With the tree behind her, she had little mobility too. Her legs were pinned under his weight.

  ‘Trust you to fall on me. You’re a fucking wanker, Cam,’ she muttered under her breath. Frustrated she punched him between the shoulder blades as hard as she could.

  Tears pricked her eyes as she realised her phone had been in her hand when Cam had dragged her into the van. It must have fallen on the ground when Cam had taken her. She tried to fight them, but it didn’t work. The tears slipped from her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

  After a minute, Ed rubbed at them in frustration. Crying wouldn’t help anyone.

  That was when Cam groaned.

  Ed felt his weight shift as he tried to drag himself from unconsciousness. Where was the rock? Looking around, she saw it was out of reach. Straining her fingers out to the side, she tried to grab it. But it was too far away.

  Cam groaned again, this time lifting his head a little, his eyes trying to focus on the ground in front of him.

  Ed felt fear rise – when he realised she’d decked him with the rock, he’d kill her.

  When he groaned again and pushed himself to his knees, Ed acted. She scooted her body from underneath him and stood quickly, taking one step away from him before he grabbed her ankle, sending her face first into the undergrowth.

  ‘Get off me!’ she screamed, hitting out at his face, feeling him use her own body to pull himself over her. His knees dug into her stomach as he grabbed her arms tightly, stopping her raking his face with her nails.

  ‘Quit it,’ he hissed at her, pulling one of her arms to the other and holding them to her chest with his knee.

  ‘Get the fuck off me, Cam. You’re crazy. Let me… the hell… go!’ Her voice faltered as she tried to push against him, bucking her hips and pulling as she tried to free her arms.

  The first slap was hard enough to make Ed see stars. It didn’t stop her struggling against his weight, though. She knew she was whimpering but did not want him to know how petrified she was. She stared at Cam then spat in his face.

  With a guttural roar, he punched her hard to the side of her mouth. Pain radiated out from the impact point, and she tasted metal in her mouth – blood burst from the gums around her tee
th. The second punch was further back – her ears were ringing and her whole face now felt like it was on fire.

  ‘Please, Cam…’ she whispered, ‘Please stop.’

  ‘It’s all your fault. Everything’s your bloody fault, you useless sack of shit.’

  She barely registered him fumbling in his pocket – didn’t even know he had the knife in his hand until she felt the cold blade against her neck.

  Ed froze.

  His voice calmed instantly, though anger still raged in Cam’s eyes.

  ‘Better,’ he said, seeming not to notice the blob of spittle hanging off the end of his bottom lip. Ed noticed though. Focused on it in fact. Seeing that blob of spit wobble as he breathed stopped her thinking about the knife at her neck.

  This was it then. She was going to die at the hands of the wanker who’d all but broken her back and her spirit. Was this how it was meant to be? Really?

  Ed took in a deep breath. She meant to try and talk to him, calm him down. But instead she screamed, long and loud.

  She didn’t even see the movement to her right.

  There was a loud umph as something heavy hit Cam at speed, sending him flying off her.

  She could move!

  Without even waiting to see what it was, Ed leapt to her feet and ran.

  8th October, 1830 hours – Woods to rear of farm, Blackwell, Darlington

  When Ali had seen the knife at Edina’s neck, he did the only thing he could. Took a run and rugby tackled Cameron Webb. He didn’t even think. It was instinctive.

  The second he’d landed, he’d spun round back onto his feet in one movement, and now faced Cameron head on. Cam held the knife in his right hand – it looked steady and sure. Ali knew he would have no qualms about using it on him.

  So don’t give him the chance then.

  Ali gritted his teeth, and took a step forward.

  The movement caused Cam to jab out with the blade, catching Ali’s arm on the upswing. It was an obvious move, one Ali had anticipated. Using his left arm to block the movement meant the sharp edge grazed his arm, but while Cam was still moving forward, Ali used Cam’s own momentum to hook his elbow into Cam’s and swung him round. Now slightly off balance, Cam tried to rectify his footing. Ali used the opportunity and slammed his fist into the side of Cam’s head – as luck would have it, it was the side coated in congealed blood.

  Cam staggered, blood now pouring freely down the side of his face again.

  Ali used the opposite arm and brought an upper cut to the underside of Cam’s chin.

  His neck snapped backwards from the force, and Ali punched him again, this time causing Cam to drop to his knees. The knife skittered from his hand and was lost somewhere in the undergrowth.

  Ali raised a knee slightly and spun a roundhouse kick into the side of Cam’s face, knocking him clean out. Turning Cam over, Ali applied his handcuffs to Cam’s wrists, then rocked back, resting his backside onto his feet, and drew in a long breath. It had been a long time since he’d learned those particular moves. The judo instructor he’d had as a kid, would have had his life over the technique used, but Ali didn’t care. He was just glad they’d worked.

  Pulling out his mobile, he plugged in Gary’s number.

  ‘Suspect apprehended. Bring the team in, Gary. We still need to find Edina. She ran off in the woods behind the farm.’

  Hearing a rustle to the side as Gary was talking to him, he glanced over.

  ‘Scratch the last – Edina’s with me. She’s safe… yeah, OK, see you in a few.’

  ‘You OK?’ he asked Ed, pushing himself to his feet and taking two steps towards her.

  She nodded – her face was pale and bruising was starting to show already. ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘A very nice old man with a dog showed me the way,’ said Ali. At her puzzled look, he shook his head. ‘Don’t worry about it. You’re OK, that’s the main thing. My team will be here any second and this nightmare will be over.’

  ‘He was going to kill me,’ she whispered, raising her eyes to look at his. Ignoring professionalism, he put his arm around Ed’s shoulders.

  ‘He’s a dick.’ His frank words brought forth a small smile.

  ‘Yeah he is. Oh my god – Kevin! He must be worried sick. Does he even know what happened?’

  ‘I talked to Kev about twenty minutes ago. I’ve no doubt at all he’ll be waiting at the station ready to tear me a new one if you aren’t with me.’

  Seeing Gary approach, he took the keys offered with a grin, then led Edina back to the farmyard where he knew Gary would’ve parked the pool car.

  26

  Susie had escaped the fire relatively unscathed. She had some burns to her arms and her left cheek had blistered before she’d managed to crawl out of the back door. She hadn’t waited around, knowing the fire brigade were outside. Susie had gone home quickly, ignoring the gasp from her mother when she’d got there. One glare at her dad and he’d shut up instantly. It made her feel good, knowing they were scared of her.

  When the police had knocked at the door, she hadn’t been at home. She’d watched from the other side of the road, hidden by the overgrown bushes in her neighbour’s garden. She knew instinctively that her parents had told the police she had set the fire – Heather and Janelle had both escaped – it had been all over the news, along with a picture of Susie’s face shining out.

  So she’d hidden – squatted here and there in vacant houses for a few days while her burns healed enough that she could function without wincing. She’d dyed her hair black, perfected the gothic look with her eye makeup and started wearing black hoodies paid for in cash in the town centre. Susie was so far past looking like herself that even her own mother wouldn’t recognise her.

  Except for the burns.

  She hadn’t even noticed her mask falling off her face when Edina had pushed her over. She’d soon felt the flames though. In the days since the fire, she’d kept them clean – tried to stop the blisters popping. It hadn’t worked – her face now had a yellowy crust on her cheek where the scabs were starting to settle. She couldn’t cover it with foundation – so she’d started wearing a scarf across her face so people wouldn’t recognise her from the news.

  The story had moved to the fourth page of the newspaper today – officially old news.

  The street was quiet.

  Susie made her way to the back of the house, climbed up the pipe that ran down the side of the house, and entered the attic through the small window.

  It looked the same as it always had – bare and sparse. She hoped the attic door would be unlocked – the last thing she wanted to do now was shimmy back down the pipe.

  She tugged the handle and smiled as the door swung outwards silently.

  Susie had had days to think about what to do – how to pay her parents back for the years of abuse. It had festered in her mind, and she had imagined many ways of making sure they didn’t survive.

  For once, setting a simple house fire was too easy.

  She wanted them to pay. She needed them to pay.

  Susie frowned as she made her way down the attic stairs – what about Heather? And Janelle? They should pay too. This was their fault after all. If they’d died like they were supposed to no one would have even thought to look at her. She nodded in the darkness – everything in its own time. She’d deal with this first, then she could focus on the other loose ends.

  The bedroom door was ajar – they never stayed up past ten o’clock. She could see the faint glow from the streetlight outside the window lighting up the bed. She clutched the bottle of lighter fluid in one hand, and the lighter in the other. She wanted to see their faces – watch as they woke and realised what was happening. She wanted to hear them scream their apologies as she doused them in fuel and watched them burn.

  It was only right.

  Susie worked quietly and efficiently – she didn’t want them to wake until she was ready. It only took a few minutes to soak the bedding in fuel. She knew from exp
erience it would go up like a firework – duvets are full of nice flammable material. The mattress would take a little longer to ignite – safety precautions now enshrined in law meant the cover and contents were flame retardent.

  Now she was ready.

  She ignited the flame on the lighter and coughed loudly, smiling widely as her dad woke abruptly and sat up.

  He was initially confused, but it lasted mere seconds. ‘What are you doing? Suzanne Beatrice Frankland you put that lighter down this minute.’

  His voice woke Susie’s mum, who also sat up.

  Susie saw the fear in their eyes – they knew what she was there for. And they deserved to die.

  Without even blinking, she threw the lighter onto the duvet, which ignited instantly in a bright flash of orange flame. As her dad tried to pat the flames with his hands, doing his best to put it out, Susie said, ‘This is for all the times you locked me in the attic. It’s for telling the police I killed those… twats. It’s for making me feel like I was crazy, which I’m not, by the way.’

  Her parents didn’t reply – the action of trying to put the flames out had ignited her dad’s pyjama sleeves and he was screaming too loudly to even register that she’d spoken. Her mum had already fallen silent – her head back on the pillow with her mouth open. The shock had caused her heart to stop beating.

  Susie stepped back towards the door as the flames became more intense, the avocado coloured headboard catching and letting the tendrils of fire lick the wallpaper above.

  Her dad stopped screaming.

  The fire had burnt his trachea and blistered his throat. He couldn’t scream now even if he wanted to.

  She stood and watched as he stopped twitching.

  Then she turned and walked back down the stairs.

  Susie unlocked the safe hidden behind the picture in the living room, and emptied out her dad’s life savings. He’d never been one to trust banks, and she knew there would be enough to keep her going a while.