Before I Say I Do

by Vicki Bradley

  She grabbed Kowalski’s baton from his harness and went to the living room window. She flicked the baton sideways, locking it open, and then smashed it into the pane, sending fine splinters running up the glass. She hit the window repeatedly, but the glass wouldn’t smash. Her arm was aching and her breath ragged from the force.

  Kowalski took the baton from her and moved her aside. He shattered the glass on his third attempt and scraped away the sharp pieces stuck in the frame with the baton. She climbed through the hole he’d created and he followed.

  She was stunned by the dirty smoke twisting and curling above her, obscuring the living room ceiling. It hovered above them, as if about to strike. All she could hear was the roar of the fire deep inside the house, which made her body shout at her to cower in a corner.

  A man’s screams pierced the room. The voice was inhuman, making Loxton’s stomach drop. She couldn’t bear it. They followed the noise through the smoke, crawling on the floor, with their stomachs on the wooden boards to avoid the heat and fumes above them.

  She couldn’t tell which room was which and she tried desperately to remember the layout from when she’d searched Webb’s address a few days before. The noise had stopped as soon as it started. It could have come from anywhere in the house.

  Moaning started up again from her left and she moved towards it. The heat here was as if she was trying to crawl into an oven. There was a door with a chair jammed under the handle.

  Kowalski kicked it away and used his baton to push down the door handle and open the door. Toxic smoke rushed out of the space, making it hard to see. A figure on its knees fell forwards. Orange light flickered up the walls towards them.

  ‘We’ve got to get out of here,’ Kowalski shouted into her ear over the crackling fire. He reached down and grabbed the figure under the arms and together they dragged the person back the way they had come. The smoke made it hard to breathe.

  She forced herself to take a step at a time as she helped drag the figure towards the living room window. Black smoke forced itself into her lungs, choking her. Her eyes streamed from the heat.

  She tried to shout over to Kowalski, but her lungs wouldn’t fill with air. The blackness around them grew. She couldn’t see Kowalski, couldn’t see anything. Her strength ebbed. The casualty next to her seemed to grow stronger, scrabbling with her towards the light and air. She hauled herself onwards, pulling him towards the window, every inch harder.

  She wanted to check Kowalski was with them, help the man out, but she had nothing left – to stop and check now could be deadly.

  She threw herself through the small gap in the window, landing on the grass outside. The fresh air burnt into her lungs and she couldn’t breathe.

  She dragged herself away from the smashed window and rolled onto her back. She watched the window for what felt like a lifetime, but there was no one there. Where was the casualty? Where was Kowalski? She tried to move but her vision became blurry and dark at the edges.

  She tried to call Kowalski but all she could do was take painful sips of air. Soon the burning in her chest subsided and her vision became clearer. She forced herself upwards onto her knees and peered through the broken window.

  Kowalski was lifting the man towards the gap in the window. Tears welled up in her eyes. She couldn’t believe they were alive.

  She took in a deep lungful of air and managed to stand to lean through the window. Through the grime she recognized the man as Mark Rowthorn.

  She stretched her arms out as Kowalski pushed Rowthorn up towards her. She managed to haul him through the window, using her weight as Kowalski pushed. He tipped forward onto the grass and collapsed in front of her.

  She didn’t check to see if he was breathing, instead turning back towards Kowalski. She reached through and he grabbed at her hands. She managed to get a grip of one and pulled as hard as she could, using her full weight. Kowalski struggled onto his feet and was dragged through. Loxton landed heavily on her back and the wind was knocked out of her. Kowalski fell on top of her, crushing her, but she didn’t care. Black smoke rose above them but here on the ground there was air to breathe.

  Rowthorn was coughing violently, and then vomited black bile onto the grass. A loud crack came from the house behind them and then a shuddering bang.

  ‘Come on.’ Kowalski crawled to Rowthorn and she put her arms around Rowthorn’s shoulders. Together they managed to lift Rowthorn up. The effort sent shooting pains through Loxton’s chest and she coughed uncontrollably.

  ‘Not far,’ Kowalski said.

  They dragged Rowthorn towards the little gate and through it onto the pavement. A crowd of neighbours had gathered and looked at them with stunned expressions. A young man was filming everything on his mobile, his face a blank mask.

  Loxton’s lungs burned and her head was light. Sirens called to her from afar, clamouring louder. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She helped lower Rowthorn to the floor. He was clutching his neck and coughing. She sank down next to him, sitting on the cool pavement. Her throat was tight and she couldn’t speak. The effort of moving Rowthorn had finished her. She couldn’t believe they were alive.

  Kowalski was standing above her, his face black with grime, his eyes bright blood-red. Police cars were pulling up and uniformed officers and detectives piled out. It looked like the whole of CID had scrambled into the back of police cars to get here.

  ‘Get back,’ Kanwar ordered the crowd.

  ‘Who else is in there?’ Patel asked Kowalski.

  ‘Julia and Emily were in there,’ Rowthorn managed. ‘And Lucy.’ His voice cracked.

  Loxton felt her heart throb as she imagined them still in the house. The blistering, agonising heat that she’d felt, they were still suffering. She got up and Kowalski stood with her.

  ‘We’ll tell the fire brigade there’s still three outstanding.’ Patel put a hand out towards Loxton and Kowalski. ‘The fire’s too strong for anyone to go in now. It’d be suicide.’

  ‘I’m going to evacuate the surrounding houses,’ Kanwar called to them. ‘You need to move further back.’

  Loxton glanced at Kowalski, whose eyes were bright against his grimy face. He pressed his lips together and shook his head. ‘It’s too dangerous. The fire brigade is their only chance now.’

  Loxton nodded, knowing that they would be dead already. The fire was too ferocious for anyone to have survived any longer in there. She felt her legs weaken under her as the world span for a moment. Kowalski put his arm around her shoulder, steadying her.

  Two uniformed officers lifted Rowthorn and carried him towards the other side of the road. Kowalski led Loxton after Rowthorn and out of harm’s way.

  Rowthorn was struggling to breathe; the uniformed officers were sitting him down and loosening his shirt.

  ‘Ambulance is on the way,’ one of them said.

  Great black columns of smoke billowed off the house. The roof was almost gone. Burning timber and plastic fell from the walls.

  Charred grey pieces of cloth floated down around them like dirty snow, some still glowing red. She recognized part of Webb’s bedroom curtains drifting to the ground. No one else came out.

  Rowthorn was coughing violently. Loxton knew there was nothing she could say to help him, so instead put her arm around his shoulder.

  ‘Is there anyone I can call for you?’ she asked.

  Rowthorn shook his head through the coughs. He managed to raise his eyes to hers. ‘She came to save me.’

  Loxton wasn’t sure which woman he was talking about. He was wheezing and his breath ragged, and then the fight suddenly went out of him as his eyes rolled backwards, leaving only the whites visible.

  ‘Mark!’ She caught his head as his body fell backwards. The other officers sprang into life, lowering Rowthorn onto the pavement.

  ‘Stand down,’ one of them said, before checking Rowthorn’s airway.

  Kowalski pulled her away. ‘Let them.’

  She couldn’t move. She wa
s rooted to the spot. An overweight officer knelt down and shoved his ear near Rowthorn’s mouth. After a few seconds, he began CPR.

  Kowalski’s mobile rang and he answered it. ‘Hello, sir.’ Kowalski walked away from Rowthorn and the unfolding scene. ‘We’ve found Rowthorn. He’s alive.’ He grimaced at Loxton. For how much longer, none of them knew. ‘He was trapped in Lucy Webb’s basement. Talbot, Webb and Hart are still in the house.’ Kowalski listened for a moment. ‘Yes, I know the house is on fire, sir, but I can’t go in and get them.’ His brow creased in concentration as he focused on what Winter was saying, then he held the mobile further away from his ear and shook his head at Loxton.

  ‘Does he know that I’m here?’ Loxton asked.

  ‘He knows,’ Kowalski said, bringing the mobile back to his ear. ‘He’s hung up.’

  Loxton’s mobile began vibrating in her pocket and she saw Winter appear on her screen. She switched her phone to silent and slid it back in her pocket.

  The uniformed officer was still performing CPR on Rowthorn as two fire engines pulled up. Fire officers jumped out and started arranging equipment.

  ‘Three women are still in there,’ Loxton said.

  ‘Understood,’ the fireman said. ‘This one’s code red,’ he said to the fire crew around him.

  Sorrow spread through Loxton’s chest. If they had come here first, instead of heading to Talbot’s house, maybe they could have prevented all this.

  Not long after the fire engine, an ambulance arrived, fighting its way through the growing crowd that slowly dispersed onto the pavement. It eventually reached Rowthorn. The paramedics climbed out, wary of the crowd.

  ‘You’ll need to come in too,’ the young paramedic said when he reached them. ‘We need to make sure your lungs aren’t damaged.’

  Loxton and Kowalski glanced at each other. ‘No problem,’ Loxton said. There was no way they were letting Mark Rowthorn out of their sights. An officer needed to go with him in case he gave a dying declaration. And she wanted to be there to hear it, if it came to it. More uniformed officers were turning up.

  ‘I’ll follow in the car,’ Kowalski said.

  ‘Best you don’t drive.’ The paramedic was attaching a defibrillator to Rowthorn. ‘You can all get in the back, officers. There’s room.’ Kowalski handed his car keys to Kanwar.

  ‘We’ll sort you out a lift from the hospital once you’re done,’ Kanwar said.

  ‘Thanks,’ Kowalski said. He climbed into the ambulance and turned to help lift the stretcher, which Rowthorn had been put onto.

  ‘You need to sit down,’ the paramedic ordered. Kowalski’s face had paled and he stepped back and sat down heavily on a seat, listening for once. The paramedics manoeuvred the stretcher into the ambulance and Loxton followed them into the crowded space.

  The paramedic injected Rowthorn near his heart with a clear liquid and attached an oxygen mask. The high hiss of the tank irritated Loxton’s ears. Rowthorn’s body thrashed about for a second and then went still.

  ‘His body’s clinging on.’ The paramedic strapped him in as the ambulance pulled off. ‘Can you hold this up?’ He handed Loxton a clear bag of liquid and then stuck a cannula into a vein on Rowthorn’s wrist.

  ‘You’re going to be all right,’ she said to Rowthorn, laying her free hand on his arm.

  The paramedic glanced at her but didn’t say anything. She braced herself as the ambulance swerved through the crowded London roads.

  Chapter 47

  Julia Talbot

  Friday

  I couldn’t stop coughing. There was black smoke everywhere. I crawled forwards, but I had no way of knowing which way I was going. For all I knew, I could be heading deeper into the house. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face.

  There was something in front of me. I patted the object; it was wide and tall, and higher than I could reach. It blocked my way. A surge of anger stabbed though me. Where the hell was the door with Mark trapped behind it?

  The heat behind me increased. I pushed at the object but it wouldn’t move. I tried to get around it but then realized it was a wall. I moved along it. Heat and noise surrounded me and always the black smoke. The wall was long. I tried to picture Lucy’s house in my mind, but I couldn’t focus. I kept crawling. The carpet under my hands became stone tiles. I was in the kitchen. I prayed Lucy had left the back door unlocked.

  I could hear a man shouting behind me, but I couldn’t go back towards the heat and smoke. I had to get to air now or I’d – we’d – die here. I’d failed at everything so far, but I wasn’t going to fail at being a mother. I scrabbled forward and reached the wooden kitchen units. The sink was halfway along and above it the window. If I could just reach that . . .

  Sweat trickled down my forehead and into my eyes, which stung with the smoke and salt. I was lying on my front now, trying to escape the smoke that billowed above me.

  Rachel danced in front of me. Was I already dead? I didn’t deserve any better. I hadn’t been able to protect my little sister and now my baby was going to die.

  Stand up. Stand up.

  The thought leapt into my brain and I tried to obey it. I reached my hands up into the heat and grabbed the top of the cabinet. The metal of the sink seared into me and I ripped my hands away.

  The pain blocked everything else out.

  My palms were red raw and blistering in front of me. A crash behind me pulled me back into the room. I put my bubbling palms on the floor and pushed up with my arms and legs, using every bit of energy I had left.

  This was my last chance.

  I crawled onto the surface; everything was darkness around me. I threw myself against the window, my hands scrabbling for the handle. My throat constricted and I couldn’t breathe. My hand knocked against something sticking out from the white wooden frame and I crouched down next to it. The heat on my back was immense.

  I managed to push the button in and yank the handle up, my hands screaming in protest. I threw my weight against the window, but it wouldn’t budge. I was knocked backwards by the force and for a moment I was balanced on the sink, but then I tumbled backwards, falling onto the kitchen floor.

  My lungs were burning from the inside, every breath agony.

  I could hear a voice, but I didn’t know where it was coming from.

  I tried to call out but only a hoarse croak came out of the back of my throat. I managed to haul myself up onto my knees, every muscle screaming with pain. I needed to get back onto the sink and to the window, but the harder I tried, the darker everything got. The voice became muffled.

  Hands grabbed my shoulders, pulling me roughly upwards. Thank God. I tried to help by pushing up with my legs, but the sensation of being carried was slipping away, until there was only darkness.

  Chapter 48

  Alana Loxton

  Friday

  Loxton stared up at the clouds, which were like brush strokes swept across the darkening grey sky. She should head home; she was suspended after all and technically had no right to be there. Yet she couldn’t drag herself away.

  Webb’s house was a wreck, the inside burnt out. The old Victorian terrace had a wooden framework within its walls, which had helped fuel the fire. It had taken the fire brigade a couple of hours to put it out and get it cool enough to hand over to the forensic team.

  A few figures dressed in white suits were now picking their way through the shell of the house. A handful of residents were still watching, as if hoping more drama would unfold, but they reluctantly retreated indoors as the temperature dropped. The downstairs that she had crawled through to save Rowthorn was covered in rubble and burnt debris.

  The rescue might all have been for nothing. Rowthorn was in intensive care, fighting for his life, machines sounding out his failing heartbeat. There were thick plastic tubes coming out of his throat which were attached to a ventilator, breathing for him. The doctors had told his parents and the police that Rowthorn might never regain consciousness and she shivered at the thou
ght. A life sentence in a prison of flesh with no chance of escape but death.

  A white suit paused and crouched down to inspect a piece of charred remains and then discarded it as rubbish. It was painstaking to watch.

  ‘They’ve found burnt remains of one female,’ Kowalski said.‘They reckon it’s Emily Hart from a piece of jewellery welded to her neck.’

  ‘We’ve been there before with McGregor’s body,’ Loxton warned.

  ‘I know,’ Kowalski said. ‘Reynolds reckons we might never find anything more. The petrol and concrete basement acted like an oven in places, which could have caused any other bodies and bones to be cremated into nothing but dust. It depends where they were in the basement.’

  Loxton shook her head. A human life reduced to ash and charred bones, indistinguishable from blackened burnt wood. It was all so pointless.

  ‘You ready to go?’ Kowalski started heading to the car.

  ‘I’m going to stay here for a bit. I’ll hitch a ride with one of the forensic guys.’

  ‘I’d hang on, but a takeaway’s calling.’ Kowalski held his stomach. ‘I’ve barely eaten all day.’

  ‘Go ahead.’ Eating was the last thing on her mind. She plonked herself on the garden wall and watched the white suits carrying on their silent vigil. It was going to be a long night for them.

  She looked at the space where her life had nearly ended.

  It’d been reckless to go into the house. Worse than that, she’d endangered Kowalski, who’d been forced to follow her. If something had happened to him, because of her, she’d never have been able to live with it.

  A forensic officer walked past, carrying a plastic bag. A glint of gold caught her eye.

  ‘Can I see that?’ She held the bag up, examining it. Inside was Talbot’s wedding band. Or it could have been Rowthorn’s. She lifted it closer. It was small enough to fit on her finger, so it was Talbot’s.