Nearby shouts carried on the wind. Her colleagues were looking for her. This time the man looked to his left and right, perhaps searching for an escape route of his own. She stood her ground, the overpowering smell of the fuel an ever-present reminder of her predicament.
"Look… no one else needs to get hurt."
He threw the lighter at her and she sought to swat it away with her arm only for the flame to catch the fuel-soaked sleeve of her coat and ignite in a burst of yellow and orange flame. Cassie screamed, holding her arm away from her and turning backwards and hurling herself to the ground. She knew flames travelled up, so the safest place to be was flat on the ground, she'd seen it in riot training when faced with petrol bombs; although a simulation was one thing, this was another. Instinct took over and she rolled on the ground in an attempt to smother the flame whilst trying to remove the coat before the other fuel – notably that on her face and hair – might catch. Feeling her arm come out of the sleeve, she pushed away as fast as she could, rolling out of the coat and continuing on to put distance between herself and her clothing.
A damp, earthy smell was added to the lighter fuel but it couldn't have been better received as she rolled to her front, hands beneath her face, captivated by the scene. The flames were spreading on her coat, looking far larger than she'd imagined. Relief and panic were present in equal measure and then she sensed someone alongside her but she didn't flinch as Tom knelt next to her, putting a supportive hand on her arm. Two uniformed officers clambered over the fence nearby, dropping down alongside them before scanning the garden with their torches.
"Where is he?" she heard Tom ask.
"I don't know," she whispered.
"Where?"
"I don't bloody know, all right!"
Taking the opportunity amidst the confusion of Cassie trying to put herself out, the suspect had fled but she had no idea which way he'd gone.
"I'm sorry," Cassie said, sitting up with Tom's help. She grimaced at the pain in her left forearm and tentatively reached for it but immediately recoiled. As soon as she thought about it, the pain reared up and for a moment she thought her arm was still alight. It wasn't but she'd been burned, how badly she didn't know.
"Are you okay?" Tom asked, casting an eye over her arm. The owners of the house had turned on the exterior garden lights to the patio and for the first time they could see each other properly.
"It can't be too bad," she said, sucking air through her teeth and angling her arm so that she could see in the new-found light. "I can still feel it, so it can't be, right?"
Tom inclined his head. "Come on, we'd better get that seen to." He helped her up. A dog barked signifying the arrival of a dog unit. "We'll find him. He'll not get far."
"The other one?" she asked.
"In custody."
"Who is it?"
"Let's get you checked over first."
"Sod that! Let's go and speak to the other ninja-wannabe and then I'll get this looked at." Tom met her eye with a disapproving look but she forced a smile. "Please?"
He nodded. "Okay. Come on."
* * *
Cassie held her arm close to her side as they walked but she wasn't going to complain, despite the pain increasing almost with every step. Greg Beaty's house was illuminated by multiple police cars with their blue lights flashing and all observed by neighbours peering from behind curtains. A taxi drove by on the road, the driver slowing to observe them and see what the fuss was about. When Cassie glanced sideways at him, he looked away, increasing his speed a little. Making their way up the drive, DC Eric Collet appeared at the front door to both Tom and Cassie's surprise.
"I heard the call come over the radio," he said to Tom's unasked question then nodded to a car parked on the other side of the road. Cassie looked over to see Becca sitting in the passenger seat, her elbow leaning on the top of the door, her hand supporting her head.
"You brought your seven-months-pregnant fiancée to an emergency shout?" Cassie asked.
Eric looked bashful, his lips parting. "Um… yeah, I guess so."
Cassie smiled. "Nice one, Eric."
He noticed her clutching her arm and immediately a look of concern crossed his face. "Are you all right?"
She waved away his query. "It'll be fine."
"Come in. The paramedics are just giving Greg the once over. I'm sure one of them can check you out too."
Cassie was grateful, feeling her stubbornness wasn't such a bright idea after all. The lights in the hall were on now. Tom noticed and Eric explained.
"Someone pulled the wiring from one of the exterior lights, crossed the neutral and the earth to short the panel, tripped the whole house off. Beaty is in the dining room, suspect is in the front room."
"Okay," Tom said before looking over his shoulder at Becca waiting patiently in the car. "Maybe you should let Becca go home and one of us can run you back later?"
Eric nodded, trotting out to the car. Tom led Cassie inside, coming to the doorway and peering into the dining room. Greg Beaty was on a chair; a paramedic had completed her assessment and was packing up her things. A uniformed constable hovered in the background watching over proceedings. Until they knew what was going on, everyone was to be kept under close supervision.
Beaty looked up at Tom, smiling sheepishly. "Not quite the evening I had planned."
The paramedic stood up, smiling at Greg and looking sideways at Tom. "He'll be fine. Nothing a bit of rest won't see to."
"Thanks. Would you mind taking a look at my colleague's arm?" Tom indicated Cassie and she didn't protest as the paramedic came closer and frowned at the state of her forearm close to where it met her wrist, the one area of skin uncovered and open to the flames.
"It doesn't look too bad," she said, tentatively rotating Cassie's arm and inspecting. "But you'll need to come back to the hospital and have it seen to."
Cassie nodded. "Ten minutes though, okay?"
The paramedic nodded and set about basic triage which Cassie found almost as painful as leaving it alone but she held her tongue.
"So, Greg," Tom said coming to stand in front of Beaty who appeared nervous all of a sudden, "why were these guys coming for you tonight?"
"I–I have no idea," he said, smiling but it was forced and looked artificial. "How would I know? I was in bed, asleep… a–and the next thing… these guys are trying to kick my teeth in!"
"Yes, it is a mystery. No idea at all?"
Beaty was indignant, rubbing gently at his throat where a red line was clearly visible. "Like, no! I just said so, didn't I?"
"Well, let's go and have a word with one of them then. Maybe he'll have a better idea," Tom said, beckoning Beaty up and out of his seat with two fingers and nodding towards the front room. "Come on."
Reluctantly, Beaty eased himself out of his chair, now reunited with both his crutches, and Eric and Cassie moved aside to allow him to pass. They all walked into the front room. Beaty's attacker was sitting on a chair beneath the window on the far side of the room, his hands handcuffed behind his back and a constable standing either side of him. He had a cut to the side of his head slightly above his right eye. Someone had applied several Steri-Strips to temporarily hold it together but Tom guessed it might need stitches at some point. Now he was in custody, the man cut a dejected figure, his glare at Tom only deepened when Greg Beaty hobbled into the room behind him.
Tom brought Greg to stand in front of the man who tensed and scowled at both of them.
"Do you know James Cook?" Tom asked.
Beaty looked sideways at Tom and then down at the man in front of him, shaking his head. "N–No, I don't."
Tom nodded. "I'm not surprised. You'll know him better by his father's surname rather than his mother's maiden name, I should imagine. Isn't that right Jimmy?"
The man glared at Tom. Beaty looked at Tom quizzically. "Jimmy?"
"That's right. It's been a few years since you were at school together, he was a year or two below you, weren't you, J
immy?"
Beaty looked at the man, staring hard at him, his eyes narrowing. "Jimmy? You're… Jimmy Haverson?"
"Yes," Tom said, turning to face Beaty. "I think Ciaran's brother came here to kill you tonight, Greg. Now, why do you think he would want to do something like that?"
Chapter Thirty-Three
Greg Beaty's eyes flitted between Tom and the man in custody, finally settling on Jimmy Haverson.
"Jimmy… why… why come here like this?"
"You know damn well why?"
Beaty shook his head, his forehead creasing. "Jimmy, it's been years… I didn't even know you were back in town."
"You killed my brother, you sick bastard!"
"No, no… that's not how it happened, Jimmy," Beaty said averting his eyes from Jimmy's piercing stare, his lower lip trembling as he uttered the denial. "I didn't… no one killed Ciaran!"
"Liar!" Jimmy barked, trying to launch himself at Beaty from his chair only to be restrained by both officers to either side of him and be physically manhandled back into his seat. "You killed him. You, Harry and…" he checked himself, breaking off his glaring look at Beaty.
"And who?" Tom asked but Jimmy wouldn't meet his eye. "There's a lot going on between you lot, isn't there?"
Both Jimmy Haverson and Greg Beaty stared at the floor rather than see themselves under Tom's watchful eye. Tom hovered in front of Jimmy Haverson.
"You got out of juvenile detention and came home, Jimmy," Tom said. "I gather from speaking to your social worker earlier this evening that it wasn't your choice to return to your home town but it was a condition of your release.”
"Why would I want to come back to this place?" Haverson almost spat, lifting his head to face Tom.
"A lot of bad memories… a fractious relationship with your father alongside painful memories of your mother's death and obviously Ciaran's suicide—"
"Suicide!" Haverson scoffed, shaking his head. He glared at Beaty once more. "They killed him." Beaty made to protest but Haverson cut him off. "As near as damn it!"
Tom stepped in between them, breaking their eye contact and looked down at Beaty. His expression was pitiful as the magnitude of the situation seemed to be getting to him.
"What do you say, Greg? Jimmy thinks you killed his big brother—"
"No!" Beaty said, shaking his head, his eyes glazing over. "It wasn't like that, I swear."
"Then what was it like?"
Beaty shook his head, lifting a hand to cover his mouth and nose. "We were just kids, Inspector Janssen." He looked past Tom at Jimmy Haverson, lowering his hand from his face. "Honestly, Jimmy. We were just kids larking around. None of us meant for it to happen, any of it." Tom sat down on a chair, fixing his eye on Greg and gesturing for him to continue. Beaty sighed, looking to the ceiling and exhaling as he bit his lower lip. "We were out for the day – like we always were back then from dawn to dusk – and… we were messing around."
"Define we for me, if you wouldn't mind?" Tom asked.
"Me, Harry and Dave… and Ciaran obviously. We were mucking around in the woods on the common as it got dark, having a couple of beers we'd swiped from your dad." Beaty shot a brief glance in Jimmy Haverson's direction. "We were winding each other up, it was getting dark and we were telling each other ghost stories – putting the frighteners on one another, you know? Just kids’ stuff." He hung his head, running his hands through his hair. "Ciaran got scared… took it too seriously."
"Ciaran had Asperger’s, Greg," Tom said. "He believed everything he was told, especially when told it by people he trusted."
Greg Beaty's jaw shook, his mouth contorting as he sought not to break down but failed. He exhaled as a deep sob left his mouth. "You d–don't understand… we were just having a laugh."
"My brother died because you lot were having a laugh?"
"This didn't just come to you, Greg," Tom said. "Whose idea was the noose?"
Beaty clamped his eyes shut. "I don't remember… all of us probably. It was all of us looking to wind him up." He met Tom's eyes with an expression imploring him to offer some forgiveness. "We were all to blame, all three of us." He returned his gaze to the floor in front of him. "We made up this story about a young boy who'd killed himself centuries ago on that very night, right there on the common. We told him how the boy's soul haunted those woods in an endless search for a body to possess to make him whole again… waiting for the right person, an innocent… a virgin who came there of their own free will…" his eyes flitted to Tom once again and away. "And… once you were there the only way you could avoid his attention was to strip all of your worldly possessions away and run as fast as you could to escape before he claimed you."
"What did you tell him would happen?"
Beaty shook his head. "A lifetime of eternal suffering… torture and misery."
"And Ciaran believed you, didn't he?" Tom said.
Beaty laughed, a dry sound without any genuine humour, and nodded. "Damn… if only he'd known we were all in the same boat, all virgins… each of us as pathetic as one another."
"What was with the noose?" Tom asked. "Because you had it planned well in advance, must have done."
Beaty sighed, pressing thumb and forefinger to his eyes. He sniffed hard, sitting up. "A sign of the spirit's awakening… but how were we supposed to know that… that Ciaran would react like that?" He looked at Tom with pleading eyes. "How? You tell me how?"
Tom raised his eyebrows but didn't comment. Beaty persisted.
"I mean, none of us could know he'd have reacted like that, could we?"
"But you knew he'd hanged himself, right?" Cassie asked.
Beaty looked sideways at her, nodding slowly. "We stayed in the woods, drinking our beer. We were supposed to meet him at the car park on the far side, bring him his clothes and his bike and all that, you know? We meant to give him fifteen minutes or so but, looking back, it must have been more like three quarters of an hour. I even had my camera and was going to take a snap or two, capture the look on his face when he realised it was all a wind up…" he smiled but it faded rapidly. "And then we came out of the woods… and saw him… hanging there." Beaty's expression took on a faraway look, staring blankly straight ahead. "We knew. All of us knew he was gone."
"And what, you just left?" Tom asked.
Beaty's head sank low and he confirmed with a brief nod. "Yes," he all but whispered.
"You left my brother there to die! You evil bastards!"
Beaty's head snapped up. "He was already gone, Jimmy. He was already gone, I swear."
"And you dumped his clothes and his bike as you ran off."
"We were kids, Inspector Janssen," Beaty said, staring at Tom, tears falling. "We were just kids. We panicked… ran… it's what kids do."
"Not the kids I know," Tom said softly. Beaty's head dropped again. "And you never thought to come clean on what happened that night? If only to give the family some closure."
"I'm so, so sorry," Beaty said, lifting his head and looking at Jimmy. "It just got harder and harder… and then what with your mum and everything."
"Don't you dare speak about my mum," Jimmy spat. "You may as well have killed her too. You destroyed my family… all of our lives!"
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't cut it, Greg!" Jimmy scowled at him, the blood was running from the cut to his face again, reaching as far as his jawline now. "Not at all. You and the others pushed him around, made him the butt of all your jokes… and all he ever wanted was to be accepted."
"I know, I know… and if I could go back, if any of us could go back, we'd have done it differently but it was done, you know? We couldn't change it, none of it. We were just kids."
The last words drifted away, Beaty sounding less convinced of the explanation with every utterance of it. Tom saw Tamara standing in the hallway but she silently indicated for him to ignore her and continue, obviously not wanting to break up the momentum. Tom turned to Jimmy Haverson.
"We had trouble trackin
g you down, Jimmy," he said. "What was with taking your mother's maiden name after you came out of detention? A fresh start?"
"Something like that," Jimmy muttered.
"You had no relationship with your father to speak of, but you went to work for David Fysh."
Jimmy shrugged.
"And became close friends with him," Tom said. "I imagine that would have been nigh on impossible if you'd known about all of this." Again, Jimmy said nothing but he was watching Tom warily. "So, I reckon you came upon this information recently?" Tom looked between him and Beaty. "And something changed. What did Gavin Felgate say to you? Did he tip you off as to what he thought might have happened to your brother years ago?"
Jimmy Haverson held Tom's gaze for a moment longer before breaking off and staring at the floor.
"And who else did Felgate speak to who would have as much raw emotion and anger within them to join you in killing Harry Empson and trying to do similar to Greg?"
"You're the policeman, you can figure it out."
"And what about your friend, David Fysh, where is he?"
Jimmy looked directly into Tom's eye. "No comment." There was a gleam in his eye that Tom found unnerving.
Tamara Greave came into the room, immediately crossing to Cassie, noticing her clutching her arm but Cassie mouthed that she was all right brushing off the concern.
"Tom, could I have a word?" Tamara asked. They stepped out into the hall and Tamara made sure no one else could hear them. "I heard back from the local taxi firms. One of them had a pre-arranged booking to pick Harry Empson up from the airport and drive him back to Heacham."
"Great, did the driver see anything?"
"I've not spoken to him but the company confirmed the driver's name… it was Ian Haverson."
Tom ran a hand across his mouth. "He told us he works nights."
"As a taxi driver, yes. I had them check and he was on shift the night of Gavin Felgate's murder too."
"So, he didn't drop him off in Hunstanton as he claimed. More likely he—"
A Dark Sin: Hidden Norfolk - Book 8 Page 23