Kill or Die

by Ann Evans

  “No!”

  “I’m not arguing, Lucy Logan, listen, and do as I say. You’re light, so it will hold your weight. Mummy’s heavier, so I’ll follow after you.”

  Gripping Lucy’s wrist, they inched down the slope where Julia explained how she was to tackle the drainpipe. “You’ll skin your knees, darling, but cling to it with your hands and feet, like a little monkey.” She tried to smile. “You can do it darling, I know you can.”

  As soon as Lucy gripped the drainpipe, she instantly let go. “It’s hot!”

  “I know, sweetheart. Be brave, please.”

  “You follow straight away, Mummy,” Lucy begged, entwining her little arms and legs around the pipe, as best she could. “You’re not really very heavy.”

  “As soon as you’re down. Go quickly, now!”

  For all her tender years, Julia admired her daughter. She was asking more than any mother should ask her child, and it broke her heart to expect her to even try and do this. But, without another word, Lucy turned onto her stomach, and lowered herself, feet first down onto the drainpipe. Julia kept a hold of her daughter’s arm, until she had descended beyond her reach.

  “Try to hold your breath when the smoke gets too thick,” Julia called. “And keep your eyes closed. Think nice thoughts, don't be frightened. You can do it, sweetheart. I know you can.”

  The child made no reply, her concentration fixed on her task. Julia’s heart swelled with pride.

  Smoke was pouring up through the bedroom windows now, and the heat through the tiles was becoming unbearable. Lucy’s progress was painfully slow, and Julia tried to keep up a steady stream of words of encouragement.

  She was probably ten feet below her, when Lucy peered up fearfully. “Mummy, the pipe is so hot.”

  “Don’t let go! Lucy, you mustn’t let go. Keep climbing down. You can do it. Only please hurry, love.”

  “It’s burning my hands!” Lucy screamed. “I can’t hold on… Mummy, help me!”

  “I’m coming!” Julia cried, swinging her legs over the apex, clinging to the pipe and guttering, realising then what a task she’d set her daughter. It was scalding hot, and so close to the wall, almost impossible to grip.

  Somehow, she shimmied downwards, half expecting the pipe to peel away from the wall with her added weight. Whether they could survive a fall from this height, she had no idea, but she could feel the flames roaring upwards. The whole house pulsated with the heat.

  She slid more than climbed down the pipe, feeling the skin being torn off her knees, as she scraped past scalding hot bricks. When her feet were close to Lucy’s head, she cried out, “Grab my legs, Lucy. Wrap yourself around my legs. Put me between you and the pipe, I’ll lower us both.”

  Lucy was sobbing and screaming, but Julia suddenly felt the weight of the child, as she managed to grab one leg and then the other, dragging her down. It was almost unbearable. Only her determination stopped her from giving in to the pain. There was no way she could ease herself slowly. She slid agonisingly fast, the rough metal of the pipe ripping and burning the skin from her hands.

  She sensed the ground rushing up to meet them. Tree branches were suddenly on a level, then above her, flames were leaping out from windows, heat was scorching her hair, her eyes. And then Lucy’s weight eased as she hit the ground, followed by Julia a second later, landing half on top of her daughter on the blackened grass.

  At that second, Julia was barely aware of the pain. All that mattered was making sure Lucy was alive. Scrambling off her, she brushed her hair back, staring frantically down into her blacked face. Through the smoky grime, her mouth curved, and the tiniest of smiles transformed her face.

  Hauling her to her feet, they staggered away from the house, into a clearing where the air was less putrid. They failed to see arms outstretched. Blinded by the smoke and their own watery vision, they saw no one, until they had stumbled straight into him.

  CHAPTER 31

  The dark blue Renault was winched onto the tow truck, and taken away for forensic investigation. A team of policemen, some with dogs, descended on the area, and began a search. Ian watched. He felt sick. They were searching for bodies. No one had to tell him that. The murdering bastards had dumped their car here, and taken Julia's. No way would they have taken them along for the ride. It was logical. They'd killed once, two more deaths wouldn't make much difference. Covering their tracks, leaving no one to point the finger.

  He felt numb. All feeling, all sensation seemed to be draining from his body and his mind, preparing him for the shock. Nature’s way, he supposed.

  Chief Inspector O’Ryan came over, he regarded Ian pitifully. “You may as well go home, Mr. Logan. There’s nothing here. We’ll keep you informed of progress.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he blurted out, anger erupting suddenly and unexpectedly, lashing out as O’Ryan tried to console him. “I’m going to help in the search. If Julia and my daughter are here, I’ll find them.”

  “Sir…”

  He shoved the officer aside, and stumbled off into the woods, giving way to tears spilling down his face. Blindly, he forged through the undergrowth, his hands and clothing snaring on the bracken. His heart lurched at every mound of dead leaves he came upon. He was vaguely aware of Grimes on his tail, telling him the police had it all in hand, and he might be doing more harm than good; they had tracker dogs at work here. They were going to have to drag him away by force, if they wanted him to stop now. He stumbled on, wanting to die, wanting the earth to open up and claim him. They were gone, dead...

  “Mr. Logan!”

  “Leave me alone!” he yelled back at O’Ryan.

  “Mr. Logan!” he shouted again, louder.

  Glancing back, Ian saw the officer running towards him, looking bulky and ungainly. He felt his stomach tighten. This was it. They’d found something... his family...

  But, as O’Ryan drew nearer, he saw the officer’s expression. The man looked almost excited.

  “What?” Ian uttered, terrified, exulted, daring for a second to hope. “What is it?”

  “Reports coming in about a house fire four miles away, old derelict place. No one’s lived there for years.”

  “Meaning?”

  “The farmer who reported the blaze also reported he thought he saw two people on the roof. He thought it might be a woman and a child.”

  Ian didn’t wait to hear any more. He ran back to the parked cars. “Which way?” he yelled, as they tore through the bracken. “Which way, for God’s sake?”

  “Grimes has the engine running. Get in with us,” O’Ryan said breathlessly.

  Ian threw himself into the rear seat of the police car. It was already screeching off, as O’Ryan jumped into the passenger seat.

  Sirens blaring, Grimes took off, scattering police officers in all directions. Ian sat perched on the edge of his seat, hanging over the driver’s shoulder, his foot hard down on his own invisible accelerator pedal, willing them to go faster.

  “They were on the roof?” he demanded, hanging onto the seat back as they were flung in all directions. “When? How long since the report came in?”

  “A few minutes. The fire service is on the scene.”

  “What sort of house is it—a bungalow? What?”

  “Big pre-war type, I think,” Grimes answered, as he squealed the vehicle around a sharp bend, sending both passengers hard against the side of the car. “Sorry!”

  Ian’s brain was spinning. What were they doing on the roof? And how the hell could his little girl get down off a roof, without killing herself for God’s sake? How could Julia? She was no good at climbing. “Can’t you go any faster?”

  Grimes could. Slamming the car up a gear causing the engine to protest, Grimes put his foot hard down on the accelerator, throwing his passengers into the backs of their seats. The outside world flashed by in a vague greenish-brown blur.

  “Look!” O’Ryan suddenly yelled. “Smoke above those
trees.”

  Ian saw the great pall of black smoke hanging in the air like a gigantic gravestone. His blood ran cold. The acrid stench of smoke drifted in through the car’s heater vents, and as they grew nearer, the sound of fire engine horns drowned out everything else.

  Three fire engines had squeezed up the narrow lane ahead of them, and another came roaring around the bend behind them. Grimes pulled the car onto a grass verge, and Ian was out of the car, before it had barely stopped. Running, he ducked past the fire officer, who tried to bar his way. What did stop him in his tracks was the sight he was suddenly faced with.

  The house, probably quite impressive in its day, stood there, a pitiful burnt out blackened shell. Firemen were hosing water in through the windows. The heat scorched his skin, even from where he stood. The air was thick and choking with vile stinging smoke. He glanced up at the roof. This was where Julia and Lucy had been spotted. There was nothing left of the roof, save a few charred, blackened beams, still smouldering. Otherwise, the house gaped obscenely up at the black sky.

  His legs moved automatically, drawing him closer to the charred shell. There was no urgency now. This was where they had ended their lives, then, this place.

  Something on the black charred ground caught his eye. His legs took him towards it, and he stooped down. A small battered teddy bear lay there, blackened by the smoke. He picked it up, and cradled it against his heart.

  “You’ve found it, then?” someone said.

  Ian turned slowly. There was a man in thick clothing and wellingtons. He was smiling. “What did you say?”

  He pointed to the teddy. “You’ve found it? Mister Brown, the little girl’s teddy. She was making a right song and dance about not having the darn thing when they loaded her into the ambulance.”

  “Ambulance?” Ian gasped, launching himself at the man, grabbing him by the shoulders. “You saw her? She’s alright? She’s alive?”

  “And kicking! And her mam…”

  “Where are they? Where did they go?” Ian begged, almost shaking the information out of the man.

  “City Hospital, I reckon. I was the one that raised the alarm,” he added, already starting to recount the tale that would earn him a couple of beers in the local pub for many a night to come. “I was out in the fields tending the flock, when Nipper, that’s my dog, got the scent of the smoke, and started barking like crazy. I turned round, and saw the old place going up in smoke. You could have knocked me down with a feather when I saw the two of them up on the roof, shouting and waving.”

  “And they got down alright?” Ian urged, half laughing, half crying. He beckoned Chief Inspector O’Ryan over to them. “They’re alive! They’ve been taken to the City Hospital. This is the chap who called it in.”

  The farmer continued his yarn. “Got myself over here pretty smartish, after I’d called the fire people, and blow me down, the pair of them were shimmying down the drainpipe like a couple of trapeze artists. Straight into my arms they came, black as the ace of spades, and a bit worse for wear, but they’d made it.”

  Ian hugged the man. “I’ll come back to you – only I’ve got to get to the hospital. Will you take me, Inspector?”

  O’Ryan’s face broke into a beaming smile. “Mr. Logan, it will be my greatest pleasure.”

  CHAPTER 32

  Julia was desperate for a cup of tea and some pain killers, but soon discovered there was protocol to contend with at the hospital. They'd wanted to separate her and Lucy and bring in some child specialist but there was no way she was letting Lucy out of her sight. They'd had to get out of their clothing, which had all been bagged up. Now they sat in white paper overalls waiting for the police to come and take a statement.

  Despite the pain and everything she'd gone through, Lucy was smiling. Julia's heart swelled with admiration and love, overjoyed she could at last look into her daughter's face and not see terror in her eyes.

  When the door to their private room opened, Julia jumped, fearful that it was him – Vincent, but the two men who walked in were every inch police officers. The shorter one in a sheepskin coat introduced himself as Chief Inspector O'Ryan, and his colleague was Detective Inspector Grimes.

  She wondered where Ian was. Would he come? Was he concerned or had he been having the time of his life with his mistress? Her heart lurched and she blinked back a rush of tears.

  “Mrs. Julia Logan?”

  She nodded.

  The officer who had spoken said nothing for a moment, as if he was just letting that piece of information sink in. And then, in a subdued voice said, “I'm sure you'd rather be having a cup of tea and getting those injuries tended. But we need to talk to you, and get a statement.”

  “Does my husband know I'm here?”

  “He's outside,” O'Ryan said, then smiled slightly. “He's desperate to see you both.”

  “Practically had to cuff him to a chair,” the younger officer joked, smiling broadly.

  She was glad Ian wasn't allowed in yet. She wasn't ready to face him.

  She took a deep breath. “There were two of them.” She waited for the officer to take out his notebook, before continuing. She spoke slowly, so he could get the facts written. “Nash was in his early twenties, and badly disfigured. He had a scar down his cheek. I think he's dead. You'll probably find his remains in the house, near the stairs.”

  “And the other one?” O’Ryan asked softly.

  Julia shuddered. “I think the other one got away. He wasn't stupid enough to start a fire he couldn't get well away from. She levelled her gaze at the police officer. “His name was Vincent. He was about six feet tall, broad shouldered, blond hair, good looking, pale blue eyes.” She shuddered again. “Cold eyes, and I hope to God you find his body in the ashes, too, but I don’t think you will.”

  Two nurses took Lucy off into another room, and Julie re-lived the nightmare for the police officers, surprising herself and them at how calmly she could talk about it. Except when it came to telling them about being raped. Relating what that vile individual had done, made her sick, but at least, he hadn't touched Lucy.

  O'Ryan spoke gently. “I’ll arrange for someone to come and talk to you. We have a rape counselling service. It might help.”

  She shook her head. “I'd rather just go home.”

  But first came a physical examination with the doctor taking swabs. Eventually they dealt with her injuries.

  When they brought Lucy back into her she was clutching her teddy. “Daddy found Mister Brown!”

  Ian followed Lucy into the room. He looked exhausted, pale and un-shaven. His ashen face crumpled when he saw her. He stumbled forward, falling to his knees at her feet, his head in her lap, sobbing. “Thank God you've alive. Thank God! I thought I'd lost you both.” He drew Lucy into his embrace. “I'm so sorry.”

  “Don't cry, Daddy.”

  Julia sat mutely, bandaged arms hanging limply at her sides. He gazed up into her face, his eyes creased in pain. “Oh, God, what did they do to you?”

  She couldn't speak, couldn't even begin to try and explain to him. She shifted her focus to O'Ryan. “Can we go home now?”

  The Chief nodded. “I'll drive you.”

  CHAPTER 33

  They drove in silence, his wife and daughter clutching each other's hands, not saying a word. Maybe, once Lucy was tucked up in bed, Julia would open up and talk to him, but he wouldn’t push her. She would tell him, in her own good time.

  She needed to know about his affair. He still had to face that. But, for now, all that mattered was they were alive, and he had them safely back. He was never going to risk losing them again.

  Turning into their street, Julia gasped at the sight of their neighbour's house cordoned off by police tape. She hadn't asked the police officers what crime they'd committed. She'd guessed. And now she knew.

  “Poor Benjamin,” she whispered. “Is he…?”

  Ian nodded slightly, wanting to shield his daughter from
the evil of this world, and then realised he'd already failed miserably in that.

  “And Bess?”

  Detective Inspector Grimes answered. “Hanging on in there.”

  They said nothing else, and when O'Ryan pulled up outside the house, Ian got out, carrying Lucy indoors, his other arm around his wife.

  “We'll speak tomorrow, Mrs. Logan,” said O'Ryan. “Try and get a good night's sleep.”

  Closing the door on the night's cold air, Ian carried Lucy upstairs. “I'll run you both a bath.”

  Julia followed him upstairs and stood with her arms around Lucy as he turned on the taps and poured scented lotions into the water, working up a lather. He had to peel Lucy out of the overall his daughter had been put in, then lowered her gently into the warm water.

  “Try and keep your hands dry, or your dressings will come off. Does it hurt very much?”

  “No. I'm okay. But Mummy hurts. That horrible man made her nose bleed.”

  Ian looked back at her, standing in the doorway, despising himself for letting her down, for putting her through this. “I'm so sorry,” he mouthed.

  She turned away.

  With Lucy's hair washed, and the smoke and grime all cleansed away, he dressed his daughter in pyjamas and tucked her into bed. “Hot chocolate?”

  She beamed a smile at him. “And chocolate biscuits? I'm starving. Oh, and will you wash Mister Brown. He's too mucky to get in my bed.”

  “I will indeed.” He kissed her forehead. “I'll be back in a few minutes.”

  When he came downstairs, Julia was rooting through a kitchen drawer, her movements awkward with her hands all bandaged. He longed to take her in his arms. “Julia...”

  “I need plastic bags,” she snapped, holding up her hands. “I can't get these wet, only I can't grip anything...”

  “I'll find something.”

  “I can do it!”

  “Sweetheart, let me...”