by Maggie James
‘I will be, once I hear Ross Reynolds has been charged. What about you? How are you doing?’
‘Good, although my ankle hurts like hell. Nothing worse than deep bruising, though. And I can breathe again. You’ve no idea how good that feels.’
The room falls silent. Lori chews her lower lip, unsure how to ask what’s on her mind.
‘Something up? Besides the obvious?’ Aiden’s voice pulls her from her thoughts.
Lori takes a deep breath. ‘The lighter you used to start the fire,’ she says.
‘What about it?’
‘Where did you get it?’
‘I took it from that plastic tub. The one in the desk drawer filled with junk.’ Aiden laughs. ‘Prayed it would still have some fuel inside. Didn’t see what else I could do. We were in a pretty tight corner.’
Lori doesn’t smile. ‘The lighter in the tub was yellow. The one you had in your hand was blue. I saw its colour in the light from the flames. It’s the one I found when searching for your inhaler.’ Before he can stop her, she reaches into his pocket, draws out a blue lighter. ‘How come you have this? You don’t smoke.’
Is that panic she reads on his face? ‘I found it in the street earlier. Decided to hang onto it in case it came in handy.’ He frowns. ‘What’s with all the questions? Does it matter which lighter started the fire?’
‘Why lie about using the one from the plastic tub?’
‘Jeez, Lori! I got muddled up, OK?’ His voice is sharp, annoyed. ‘That was one hell of a tense situation back there. Hard to think straight.’
‘You’re lying.’ Never has Lori been so convinced; it’s evident in his refusal to meet her gaze.
‘No. I’m not. What the hell are you driving at?’
‘As well as the lighter, I saw your face when the fire took hold.’ She chooses her words with care. What she says in the next few minutes could fracture their relationship forever. ‘Your expression was excited. Thrilled, even. Like you were fascinated by the flames.’
‘Bullshit. You’re imagining things.’ Aiden voice is tight with anger. But fear lurks there too. She senses tension coiling in his body, spiralling out into the atmosphere.
Words drift into her head. Those of Ross Reynolds, when she accused him of setting the fires throughout Bristol.
You bet I did. Every last one of them. I’m quite the bad boy, Lori.
And his expression, initially inscrutable, but which she now recognises as surprise, before it morphed into that evil grin. As if he knows she’s wrong, but the point’s not worth arguing. As though being pegged as an arsonist, albeit wrongly, serves to boost his ego.
‘No, I’m not,’ she says. ‘Remember when I accused Ross Reynolds of starting the fire after Jessie died? Of him being behind the other arson attacks around the city? He said he committed all of them.’
‘So? I heard that too, don’t forget. That means he admitted being the arsonist. Where are you going with this?’
‘You weren’t in the room with him. You didn’t see his expression. Something about it didn’t ring true. It was as if he couldn’t be bothered to argue. As if being labelled an arsonist puffed up his bad-boy image.’
‘That’s crap. I’ll ask you again: what are you driving at?’
‘There’s more. Remember when the police called round that time you were at the house? You put on a brave act, but you were shit scared. Why, Aiden?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I was jittery. Nobody enjoys dealing with the cops.’
Best to come straight out with it. ‘I think you’re behind some of the fires in Bristol.’
‘No. You’re wrong.’ Aiden’s eyes shoot fury Lori’s way.
‘Not the ones at Mum’s houses, I’ll give you that. My uncle did those. I’m talking about the other ones, those set in disused warehouses.’
His fists clench, his expression darkens, but he makes no reply.
‘Aiden?’
No reply. He won’t meet her gaze.
‘Did you set those warehouse fires?’
Still no response.
‘Why?’ she asks. ‘I don’t understand.’
His silence tells her everything. ‘Aiden?’ She touches the sleeve of his shirt. Will he ever answer her? Tears creep into his eyes, before he blinks, hard. She senses he’s arrived at a tough decision.
‘Lori.’ His voice is quiet, calm, belying the turbulent emotions in his face. ‘You’re my sister. I can’t tell you what it means, having found you and Dana. I’ve kept a part of my life hidden, though. From you, from everyone.’
She waits.
‘I always carry a lighter with me,’ he continues, his gaze holding hers. ‘As well as matches in my car.’
‘Why?’ Lori already knows the answer, though.
When he doesn’t reply, she prompts him again. ‘Aiden?’
He bites his lip. ‘You’re right. I’m the one who’s been setting the fires around Bristol, the ones in the warehouses anyway. A recycling depot too. In a way, it’s a relief to admit it to someone.’ He drops his gaze, his fingers fiddling with the zip on his jacket. The unease rolling off him is almost palpable. His voice sinks so low she has to strain to catch his reply. ‘I’ve tried to stop, but I can’t,’ he says. ‘It’s a compulsion.’
She doesn’t respond.
‘Are you shocked?’ he asks.
A nod gives him his answer. She’s unable to speak right now.
‘It’s hard to explain,’ Aiden says.
‘Try.’ Lori’s voice is a mere whisper.
‘Not sure how to put it so you’ll understand.’ He drags in a breath. ‘It’s like every time I set a fire, I’m reliving the blaze that killed my adoptive father, burned my mother. Sounds weird, but that’s how it is. I’m a fucked-up bastard, Lori.’
Lori attempts to wrap her head around this. ‘I don’t get it. Fire wrecked your life. Why would you want to relive it?’
Aiden bites his lip. ‘See, I knew this would be difficult to explain. In my mind, if I set a fire, one that’s quickly brought under control, in which nobody gets hurt, it’s as though the past will reshape itself somehow. Dad won’t die. Mum won’t be brain-damaged.’
Lori breathes in deeply, trying to digest his words. In a warped way, she supposes it makes sense, at least to a pyromaniac’s sense of logic. Besides, how can she judge? Impossible to tell how she’d have reacted, had something so awful happened to her as a ten-year-old.
‘You could get killed,’ she says. ‘Either by petrol splashing on you, then igniting; or from smoke inhalation triggering your asthma. Have you thought of that?’
‘I’m careful. Plenty of practice, remember.’
‘What about your adoptive mother? If you die, who will look after her?’
Aiden pales so rapidly she’s afraid he’ll suffer another asthma attack. ‘Don’t,’ he says, a plea in his eyes. Lori decides not to pursue that subject. From his expression, though, she can tell she’s hit home.
‘What if you end up in prison?’ she continues. ‘Mum will be devastated.’
Shame fills his expression. ‘You think I don’t realise that?’
‘Have you really tried to stop?’
‘Several times. The urge is too strong, though.’
Lori’s still struggling to understand. Maybe he just wants love, the way everyone does, and the fires are a substitute, as well as an attempt to reshape his tragic past. ‘Have you sought professional help? Counselling, I mean?’
‘No. Some things, they’re too complicated for shrinks, or that’s how it seems to me. And pyromania’s a tough obsession to break. I control the urge as best I can. My job helps too.’
She’s confused. ‘Don’t you work in an insurance company?’
‘I settle claims, Lori. Most of the time, it’s dull stuff like burglaries. But I sometimes get sent to check the claims for the fires I set, which is a buzz. Means I relive the thrill over again.’
Lori shudders inwardly, her fear of fire rearing its head
.
‘You were right,’ Aiden continues. ‘Being grilled by the police, with you and Dana in the house – that was tough. Knowing they had come to investigate a potential arson attack, even though I wasn’t guilty. I got so fucking anxious I could hardly think straight.’
She recalls his shaking hands, the spilled water. Signs of nerves, not culpability.
Silence for a while. Lori’s been so wrong about him, and yet so right. Shame steals over her when she recalls her former distrust, how she suspected him of involvement in Jessie’s death. Not something she’ll ever tell him, of course; their relationship is too new, too fragile. Lori recalls the hurt in Jake Hamilton’s face when she accused him of staring inappropriately at her sister. No way can she reveal to Aiden she once suspected he murdered Jessie.
She’s been wrong to believe him a cuckoo in the Golden nest. Time to accept he’s her brother, work on building their relationship. Except for one problem: how can she ever come to terms with his pyromania?
He’s speaking again. ‘I applied to be a firefighter.’ His voice holds a dreamy quality, a smile playing around his lips. ‘I didn’t qualify on medical grounds, though. Goddamn asthma. Shattered me, it did, for a while, when I realised I’d never ride in a fire engine, be part of the action.’ He sounds like a little boy.
‘I set at least a dozen fires in the week after I got rejected,’ Aiden continues. ‘Back then they were all small ones: rubbish bins, garden sheds, park benches. It wasn’t until later I began torching abandoned warehouses. The urge grew the more conflicted I got about being given up for adoption.’
‘I thought it was Damon at first. Setting the fires.’
‘I know you did. Once I accepted I’d never join the fire service, I started hanging out in the pubs the firefighters went to, got friendly with Damon and the other guys. After I agreed to rent his spare room, it helped, hearing him discuss his job. The hard part was reining in my urge to talk fires all the time, make my interest seem casual when it was anything but.’
‘Must have been tough on you.’
‘Fire’s been such a huge part of my life. Even my name reflects it.’
Lori’s puzzled. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Aiden. It means “little fire” in Gaelic. Seemed appropriate, seeing as McNally’s an Irish surname. Meant I kept a link to Tanya when I changed my name.’
‘God,’ Lori says. ‘It really is an obsession for you, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. But I’m hoping things can be different.’
‘How?’
‘Last night. It’s given me an opportunity to stop.’ When Lori looks puzzled, he continues, ‘The police have Ross Reynolds’s admission on my phone to starting the fires.’
Now she gets it. ‘It’s your chance to slip off the hook.’
‘Yes. There’s no reason for them to suspect me, not if you don’t tell them. Easy enough to explain starting the fire that trapped your uncle. How it was our best chance of escaping him, that I acted on the spur of the moment. I told the cops I used a lighter I spotted in the open desk drawer, how it got destroyed in the blaze. They believed me; no reason not to. As for the properties I torched, the insurance claims covered the damage.’ He bites his lip. ‘I can’t go to prison. If that makes me a coward, then I admit I am one.’
Lori’s silent. A voice inside her says justice isn’t being served this way.
‘You think I won’t tell them?’ she asks.
He pales. ‘I can’t stop you. It’d be your word against mine, though. Arson is notoriously difficult to prove.’
‘I’m not planning on saying anything.’
Relief darts across his face.
‘I’m doing this for Mum’s sake, not yours. She’s suffered enough. She doesn’t deserve to find her son again, only to have him end up behind bars. There’s a condition, though.’
‘What?’
‘Get professional help. A psychiatrist, counselling, whatever. Because if you don’t, you’ll do it again. You’ve tried to stop by yourself, and it hasn’t worked. Now it’s time to call in the big guns. And don’t think for one minute you can promise and not follow through.’
He doesn’t reply, and Lori’s certain he’s going to refuse. Then he raises his eyes to hers. ‘Shrinks are bound by confidentiality rules, aren’t they? Even so, I’m not sure I can confess to arson.’
‘You might not need to. You could talk about your father’s death, your adoptive mother being burned, say you’re fascinated by fire. No point in admitting to the ones you’ve already set. But you need help, Aiden.’
Silence for a while. When he looks up, his expression shows a new resolve. ‘OK, you win. I’ll see a shrink. It’s time.’
Chapter 23
BITTERSWEET
When Lori opens the door to Fraser Golden the next morning, he pulls her into a hug she doesn’t think will ever end. Father and daughter stand in the open doorway, his arms around her so tight she struggles to draw breath. The strength of his embrace shatters into a million pieces any lingering doubts about how much he loves her.
‘Sweetheart,’ he whispers against her hair. ‘Thank God you’re safe.’ His body shakes with emotion against hers.
Lori pulls back to stare at him. His face is wet with tears, and he appears exhausted, dishevelled. Hardly surprising, really. His flight from Singapore landed barely three hours ago, and he’ll be battling jet lag. He must have driven straight from Heathrow to Bristol. No wonder he looks like crap. It doesn’t matter, though. Whatever his appearance, he’s her father, and this girl needs her daddy right now.
‘Good job Ross Reynolds is in custody,’ he says. Fraser’s tone is pure hatred. ‘Because if he wasn’t, I’d kill him myself.’
‘I feel dirty. The touch of him – I don’t think I’ll ever scrub it off. My own uncle.’
‘You had a lucky escape, sweetheart. If it hadn’t been for Aiden Scott—’
‘He saved my life, Dad.’
Fraser blinks. ‘Bit of a shock when Dana told me he’s your half-brother.’
Lori smiles. ‘I need to get used to having a new sibling, that’s for sure. Mum’s delighted, though.’
He laughs. ‘I’ll bet.’ His face darkens as his thumb strokes over the bruise on Lori’s temple. ‘That bastard,’ he says. ‘Hell’s too good for him.’
‘I’m OK, Dad. Really I am.’
‘Get your coat, Lori Lamb. I’m treating my little girl to lunch.’
Lori reaches for her jacket. ‘How about Pepe’s Pizza?’
Over their meal, father and daughter continue repairing their relationship. ‘I’ll take you to London one weekend,’ Fraser announces after they’ve eaten. ‘We’ll see the sights, have dinner, go to a show. Spend time together.’
Lori’s delighted. I want things to change between us. Looks like he meant every word, and she intends to take full advantage. By the time Fraser drops her at home, after another rib-cracking hug, Lori’s heart is starting to heal.
When she walks into the living room, Aiden’s with Dana, and her heart mends a little more. Unlike before, there’s no jealousy when she greets her brother. Her mother is stitching her life back together, thanks to him. Which means keeping him out of jail is the right thing to do.
‘Come in, sweetheart,’ Dana says. ‘Aiden has something to tell you.’
What she hears next astonishes Lori, confirming her conviction her brother shouldn’t go to prison.
‘Wow,’ she manages. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Of course, he may not be a tissue match,’ Dana says. ‘But at least we can try.’
Later, when Dana’s upstairs and out of earshot, Lori turns to Aiden, her smile wide. ‘I can’t tell you how much this means to me. What made you decide to offer Mum a kidney?’
Aiden takes his time before answering. ‘The fact I almost lost you to Ross Reynolds,’ he says at last. ‘Finding you and Dana – it’s turned my life around. And seeing her unwell, knowing how serious her condition is,
made me realise I could lose her too. And I couldn’t bear the thought of that. I’m growing to love her, you see. Anyway, I did some thinking while in hospital. How I might be a suitable donor, seeing as I’m her son.’
Lori smiles before leaning towards him, her gaze intense. ‘That must take guts. I’m proud of you.’
Aiden blows out a breath. ‘Can’t say it doesn’t scare the crap out of me.’
‘Not surprising. It’s a huge decision.’
He smiles. ‘It’s the right thing to do, though. All part of the fresh start I’m determined to make.’
January brings a new year, and with it new beginnings. Aiden, Dana and Lori are at Bristol’s Bupa hospital, the clang and clatter of the coffee shop surrounding them as they sip their cappuccinos.
‘So it’s all systems go,’ Aiden remarks to Dana. ‘Now we’ve established my tissue type’s a match for yours.’
‘May be a while yet. Like the doctor said, I need to regain my strength first.’
‘We’re off to a flying start, though,’ Aiden says. ‘Back in a minute. I need a toilet. Too much coffee.’
‘I also need to convince them I’m no longer a suicide risk,’ Dana continues, once he’s out of earshot. ‘Not surprising they’re reluctant to go ahead just yet.’
‘I guess not,’ Lori says. ‘But I have a feeling you’ll persuade them soon.’
When Aiden returns, Dana announces she also needs the toilet. Once she’s gone, Lori’s half-brother leans across the table. ‘I’ve come to another decision,’ he says.
Lori’s intrigued. ‘Which is?’
‘My name. I changed it once; time to change it again. I’ll stay a Scott, though. But if I’m to quit setting fires, Aiden might not be the most suitable first name.’ He laughs. ‘I spent eighteen years of my life being a Michael. It won’t be hard to switch back. Besides, I have a feeling our mother would approve.’
‘She would,’ Lori says. ‘It’s weird to think of you being called anything other than Aiden. Good, though. Like you said, a fresh start for you.’
‘Yeah, a clean slate’s what I need all right. Talking of which, how’s Spencer?’