What She Saw

by Diane Saxon

  Jenna clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. ‘What about the bodies? How quick do you think we can get an ID on them?’

  Roger’s cheeks puffed out as he blew out a hefty sigh. ‘There isn't a whole hell of a lot left of them. They’ll probably have to rely on ID from the teeth. Unfortunately, a lot of the forensic evidence has been burnt beyond recognition or flooded by the amount of water that’s had to be used to put the fire out. What we can see on initial inspection is hot spots. The fire was deliberate. Arson. We know an accelerant was used. The heat was so intense. The lads went in yesterday to recover the bodies.’ He puffed out his cheeks. ‘But they were so hot, when they tried to pick one of them up,’ he made a scooping motion with his arms and then opened them wide, ‘It melted the bag and fell through.’

  Jenna chose to ignore Ryan’s quickly smothered gag as her own stomach pitched. She’d already heard. It didn’t make it any easier. Even the highly experienced Charlie tightened his mouth. A dead body, no matter what state it was in, never hardened you to death.

  Roger ran his fingers through his short hair. ‘SOCO made the decision that they’d be better left in situ.’

  Surprise flickered through her. ‘They’re still in there?’

  ‘They are. It’s not unusual. Arson made it a crime scene, the bodies made it a murder scene. The firearms make it even more sinister.’

  Interested, Jenna tipped her head to one side. ‘They’ve found more?’

  Roger nodded and circled his pen to point at the left side of the house. ‘Three more firearms found throughout the premises. Each of them in relative proximity to the bodies.’ His face tightened with grimness.

  Jenna grimaced.

  Mason nodded. ‘Aggravated burglary gone wrong?’

  Jenna shrugged. ‘A lot of firearms dumped. Seems a little odd to me.’

  ‘How about a connection to the drugs ring?’ Adrian tucked his hands into his pockets. ‘Maybe they sent someone to deal with him.’

  ‘Still, why leave the firearms by the bodies?’

  ‘Symbolic?’ Ryan nudged his way into the ring of people. ‘I killed this person with this gun, this one with another. It meant something.’

  Jenna frowned. A good theory, but… ‘That’s personal.’ And the ugliness of what circled in her mind clenched at her stomach.

  ‘SOCO say the firearms were used. There are several bullets and cartridges, which again have been left in place. Our lead forensics, Jim Downey…’ Roger’s gaze flickered to Ryan as the connection was made. The family resemblance easy enough to spot once you knew. ‘…Believes there’s a bullet embedded in one of the victim’s skulls. He’ll verify this once the body has been taken to the morgue.’

  Roger tapped the pen to his lips while he thought. ‘Going back to the site mapping, it appears the family could well have been in bed. And while the intensity of the fire has burnt everything beyond recognition, the fact that they were actually lying down on combustible material would have made it hotter, would have made them burn faster in those areas.’

  Not wanting to flinch at the image Roger managed to conjure up in her mind, Jenna trailed her gaze across to Ryan whose pale face had turned florid. She wondered if he’d faint, or worse still throw up. He’d done it before, it all depended on what drink he’d had before they came out of the station.

  Oblivious to her response, Roger continued to use his pen as a small wand, waving it periodically to indicate different parts of the fire. ‘One of the bodies still has form.’ He tapped the pen against the clipboard he held. ‘That would be the photographs sent over last night.’

  ‘Grim.’

  Roger tilted his head to look at Mason. ‘The entire situation is grim, I’m afraid.’

  And sad, Jenna wanted to say, desperately sad, but she kept her words to herself.

  ‘It appears that this particular person wasn’t in bed at the time of the fire but on the landing outside one of the bedrooms.’ He tracked his pen along the right side of the building. ‘It could be they were on the first-floor landing, and this is just a hypothesis at the moment, but I’d say they were overwhelmed by smoke and fell on to what appears to be fibres of a woollen carpet.’

  Confused, Jenna squinted at Roger, but it was Ryan who got in there with his question. ‘What difference would that make?’

  Roger jiggled his shoulders and indicated for Charlie to answer.

  ‘Wool is a natural fire retardant because of its higher nitrogen and water content. It takes a lot longer to burn because it needs more oxygen in the air. Once it does burn, it doesn’t drip, melt or stick to the skin.’

  ‘But you’re saying it did burn.’

  ‘Yep.’ Charlie nodded. ‘But not to the extent of the victims which appeared to be lying on combustible material, i.e. their beds, which would have heated up around them. It would be like a melting pot.’

  ‘But wool doesn’t have the same effect?’

  ‘No, it’s the most flame-retardant material you can get, naturally.’ Roger waved his little wand again. ‘So, the body lying in this part of the building, on the woollen rug, or carpet, or runner, although not identifiable, has not been incinerated to the extent of the other bodies. It will make it easier to identify.’

  Sickened by the vivid images flashing through her mind, Jenna turned away to gather herself as the rest of them fell silent.

  She raked a gaze over the site. An eerie stillness settled over the area with only the sounds of muffled voices from the crew inside the building playing vaguely in the background as they made their way through.

  Roger chewed his lip while he studied his notes.

  She had her theory with no supporting evidence, but she had the experts to hand. ‘So, who do we think set the fire? Is this someone from within the family? Gordon Lawrence perhaps? I thought he may have slaughtered his entire family and then killed himself, but we’re a body short. So, did he kill them all and walk away?’

  Evilness pervaded to give her a dark shiver.

  She couldn’t turn her mind from that one thought, even though she knew she had to have hard facts before they could draw any conclusions. She’d eke out every bit of information from the experts, but she’d hold her belief.

  Roger shrugged. She suspected he wasn’t the type to hazard unfounded guesses. ‘Nobody, it appears, was downstairs. They were all on the first floor, by the looks of it, at the moment. So, from what Charlie says, with the intensity, the start point of this fire appears to be on the first floor. Until we can DNA the bodies, we don’t know for sure who the victims are.’

  Charlie nodded and turned to face the structure. ‘We don't want to make any assumptions just at the moment. This is a massive, massive job. We’ve sectioned it into four.’ He pointed up at the house with both hands spread wide, pen flicking in the air. ‘There. That's where the ceiling has collapsed.’ He held his left palm up and pointed to the other end of the building. ‘There, they’re saying that the floor hasn’t given way.’

  Jenna nodded her agreement.

  ‘It’s going to take time. Weeks, possibly months, on a project this enormous.’ Roger skimmed his hand as he turned in a circle.

  Mason stepped forward. ‘And if it’s arson, then we should be looking for somebody sooner rather than later.’

  Cooler than she expected, Jenna quivered from the sudden chill. She tucked both hands into her jacket pockets and pushed them in deep. She stared at the tendrils of smoke coming up from the ground and gave a small shudder.

  What a nightmare.

  She squinted up at the building. ‘You know this falls in line with what Mrs Crawford said the night of the fire. That she'd heard gunshots. Gunshots from the house.’ Suspicion curdled in her stomach. ‘We’ll have to see what Salter and Wainwright come back with at the debrief, but I think we probably got as much as we could from Mrs Crawford the other night. She was quite a willing witness.’ She turned to Adrian. ‘We still don’t know any more. Except we have five bodies under very suspicio
us circumstances. It’s a mess. It’s a goddamn mess.’

  36

  Tuesday 21 April 0945 hours

  Sophie’s eyes bulged with terror as she hop-stepped from one foot to the other like a first-year infant who’d left it too late to dash to the toilet.

  Next to her, short, plump and middle-aged, her mother exuded a stoicism reflecting the character the girls had already portrayed of her and which Jenna could only admire.

  Jenna showed no surprise to see the teenager but pushed the door of interview room three open. Rather than speak, she indicated with one hand for them to precede her so she could get them away from the overcrowded front desk. Almost a dozen people vied for attention to get their voices heard above everyone else’s in their bid to explain why the pile-up in the queue to turn left into the Council car park opposite Malinsgate station couldn’t possibly be their fault. A deep baritone, a high-pitched soprano, the drama of an opera. One Jenna wanted nothing to do with.

  She pushed the door closed behind her, dulling the voices, but unable to block them completely.

  Already settled in front of the small table, Mason came to his feet as they entered.

  Jenna reached out a hand towards Sophie, noting the iciness of the young girl’s fingers. ‘Hi, Sophie. Good to see you.’ She turned to Sophie’s mum. ‘DS Jenna Morgan, DC Mason Ellis.’ She indicated Mason, who reached forward to take his turn with a handshake. ‘Mrs Maxwell?’

  ‘Trudy. Trudy Maxwell.’ Sophie’s mum exuded the understated, solid confidence of the wealthy businesswoman she undoubtedly was from her designer skirt suit, to the impeccable blonde highlighted hair and immaculately polished nails.

  ‘Please, take a seat.’

  The chairs scraped across the floor as they settled at the small, square table while Jenna shuffled her notepad and placed a pen in front of her. She’d take notes that she considered necessary, but initially she needed to put the obviously terrified Sophie at ease.

  Jenna leaned forward to rest her forearms on the table between them. Fingers loosely linked, she made eye contact with the young girl.

  ‘Sophie.’ She smiled at her. All teenage hysteria and excitement from their previous meeting had evaporated as Sophie reached for her mum's hand. Jenna could only admire the silent support Sophie's mother gave her, reflecting the personality the girls had hinted at previously. ‘I believe you have something you’d like to talk to me about?’ She injected her voice with a gentle evenness as she ran her gaze over the child in front of her, her keen eye taking in every detail. Pallid beneath the thick layers of her make-up, on-fleek eyebrows and bright pink lipstick stood out in stark contrast to the rest of her lovely face. Heavy black mascara emphasised the deep ocean blue of her eyes.

  Sophie nodded, her chest expanding as she held her breath and took a moment to squeeze her mum’s hand, her fingers turning white at the pressure.

  ‘Mum says I need to tell you. It could be nothing. It could be something, but we think you need to know.’

  Reluctant to rush her, Jenna kept her gaze steady on Sophie as the girl fluttered her free hand and then dipped it in her pocket to draw out her phone and place it on the table between them. She tapped one perfect acrylic nail on the screen and then touched a thumb to the ID button, so the screen lit up.

  ‘I know they say Poppy and her family are all… dead.’ She paused on a hiccup, gulping down so she could continue. ‘That they died in the fire.’ She blinked to wash away the fall of tears that had formed as she started to talk, her voice cracking on her next words. ‘But is it possible that she's alive? I think she may be.’

  The question was a plea, a desperate hope.

  Surprise shockwaved through Jenna, she’d not given thought to anyone but Gordon Lawrence being alive. Without taking her gaze from Sophie, she kept her face as impassive as possible. If she over-sympathised, she could end up with drama she didn’t need. She needed facts.

  ‘What makes you think that, Sophie?’ Sympathy rolled through her at the desperate desire in Sophie’s eyes for it to be true. A desire that Jenna had no choice but to keep in check.

  ‘Because I think she tried to contact me through our WhatsApp group. We have this group…’ Sophie pushed herself forward to the edge of her uncomfortable chair in her enthusiasm to get her point over. ‘We have several, but we have one just for us four girls. Me, Olivia, Chanel and Poppy. Because we’re best friends and we’re always together.’ Impassioned, she rushed the words out and Jenna nodded.

  ‘Okay. So, what happened on this WhatsApp group to make you believe Poppy is alive?’

  Sophie turned the phone around so that Jenna could see the screen. ‘Last night after we’d all been chatting about Poppy and her family and how…’ She hesitated and took in a swift draught of air. ‘How awful it was and how we couldn’t believe Poppy could possibly be dead. It was late and I didn’t want to disturb Mum because…’ She slanted her mum a guilty glance, ‘…she was supposed to have an early start this morning and I knew she’d be able to hear me, so we changed to messages from video call. After than Olivia and Chanel went to bed. I couldn’t sleep and I scrolled back through the messages. I tapped on Poppy’s name just…’ She shrugged. ‘I don't know why, just for comfort, I guess, just to see her… to look at her profile, her face. I just wanted to see her again…’ A sob caught in her throat as she stumbled to a halt. Tears formed in her eyes, threatening to spill over the thick black layer of her mascara. Sophie raised a shaking hand to press her fingertips underneath and one large teardrop rolled down her finger onto the back of her hand.

  Wordless, Mason reached for the small cube of tissues at the edge of the desk and offered them to her. Sophie took one and mumbled a thank you to Mason, who slid the box back to the edge of the desk.

  ‘Okay, Sophie. I understand.’ Jenna did understand. That need to connect, to know she could still see her best friend, her sister. To believe they were still alive. The denial that she could possibly be dead. Jenna had experienced the emotions herself, suffered the same hope and doubt and desperate desire for it not to be true. She kept her hands loose in front of her, eager to offer the young girl comfort, but aware that she needed to extract information from her before Sophie broke down altogether. Unable to ignore the slight edge of anticipation, Jenna waited for Sophie to give her eyes a delicate dab before she met her gaze. ‘When you're ready, in your own time, carry on.’

  Jenna placed one hand over the top of Sophie’s trembling one, the wet of her tears warm in direct contrast to the iciness of Sophie’s skin.

  Sophie’s voice shuddered out. ‘When you look at someone’s profile, you can see when they were on WhatsApp. I wasn’t looking for that, so it took me a couple of minutes to notice.’ She hitched in a shaky breath. ‘The app says that Poppy last looked at WhatsApp at 2303 last night, that’s when we were on. That’s when we were talking to each other. She was there at the same time. Watching. Tracking our conversation before we switched to video.’

  Sophie’s forlorn clutch at the possibility that her friend was still alive squeezed Jenna’s heart.

  Without wanting to give her false hope, Jenna pulled the phone closer to her and leaned in to get a better look. She tapped on Poppy’s name and a photograph of the beautiful, blonde-haired young girl appeared inside a circular frame on screen.

  Jenna stared at the faded text that indicated when WhatsApp was last seen. She picked up her pen and with considered calmness wrote Sophie’s name down on the notepad in front of her. She underscored it and made a note of the time registered on the WhatsApp that someone had last looked at Poppy’s phone.

  She slid the phone across for Mason to verify and caught the quick movement of his left eyebrow as it flicked upwards in a cool acknowledgement.

  As she slid the phone back across the table, Sophie scrunched the tissue into her fist. ‘I don't know if you know how WhatsApp works.’

  Jenna bestowed her with a gentle smile. Sophie probably thought she was too old to understand, bu
t she used WhatsApp all the time to keep in contact with Fliss and Adrian, Mason and Ryan. Although she tended to shy away from groups. Too much shit to wade through when she just wanted a quick answer.

  She slid her attention back to Sophie.

  ‘When somebody is typing their reply, this message up here…’ Sophie tapped the screen with the very tip of her sharp acrylic nail, ‘…says typing, in italics.’

  Aware of that, Jenna could only nod her head in agreement.

  Sophie dabbed at her eyes. Tears almost forgotten in her desperation to get her point across. ‘Well, while I was looking at her picture, the word typing appeared.’ She stopped, her gaze sharpened on Jenna as though willing her to understand.

  Jenna couldn’t see the word typing, she’d not been privy to what Sophie may have seen the night before, either in reality or because her mind craved the comfort of believing her friend was alive. ‘What did she type?’

  Sophie’s mouth turned downward. ‘She didn’t. After a few minutes, the word disappeared, and nothing came up on screen. I waited. I waited for ages. After nothing appeared, I sent her a message direct, not on the group chat.’ Sophie tapped the screen. ‘I didn’t want the other girls to see in case they thought I was mad.’

  Fear of ridicule or recrimination, Jenna wasn’t sure which, reflected in Sophie’s eyes. She pushed the phone towards Jenna again.

  Poppy.

  Are you there?

  Please let me know you’re alive.

  I love you, babe.

  Jenna stared at the screen until her eyes burnt, but if she looked up, she knew they’d all see the wash of tears in her eyes.

  Sophie’s messages were the last in the thread.

  Jenna blew out a cooling breath and raised her head when she was ready. Not for one moment did Jenna dispute Sophie’s words, but with no knowledge of the young girl’s reliability she could only take the evidence in front of her. That evidence clearly showed that whether Poppy was alive or dead, someone had used her phone. A phone they believed had perished in the fire along with the occupants of Kimble Hall.