by Danuta Kot
Feeling better, she made her way back to her bed. A nurse was waiting for her. ‘Kay, you shouldn’t go off like that. You should have asked one of us to take you, first time. You might have fallen.’
‘I’m fine.’ She wasn’t going to admit it to the nurse, but the short walk had exhausted her. She lay back on the bed, trying not to show what a relief it was.
‘Well, press the call button next time.’
‘When can I go home?’ Kay’s voice was silenced by a bout of coughing.
The nurse looked at her pointedly. ‘You’re doing very well. Let’s not spoil it by overdoing it. The doctors will be round after breakfast.’
Kay wasn’t hungry, but she knew she had to eat. Speaking carefully so as not to start the coughing off again, she said, ‘I really need to contact some people, let them know I’m safe, but I don’t have my phone, or any money. I don’t even know how I’m going to get home.’
‘I’ll talk to the charge nurse. We can see what we can do to help. But there’s someone here to see you. We don’t usually let visitors on the ward this early, but this is the police, so . . . do you feel well enough to talk to them?’
The police? ‘Why? What’s happened?’ Becca. It must be Becca.
‘I think they need some information about the fire,’ the nurse said.
It wasn’t Becca. Kay breathed again. She really didn’t feel up to talking to the police, but if they had questions, the sooner she answered them, the sooner they’d go away. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’
‘I put them in the relatives’ room. Do you want to go along there? Hang on, I’ll just . . .’ The nurse found her a better dressing gown and some slippers, then took Kay to a small room off the main corridor, Kay surreptitiously making use of the nurse’s supporting arm. This experience had turned her into an old woman overnight.
Two men were waiting for her. As she came in, they stood up. One of them was a stranger, but the other was Shaun Turner.
Her first reaction was surprise, the second, anger. Shaun couldn’t just barge into the hospital outside visiting hours and demand to see her. They were just getting to know each other, and here she was, vulnerable in a faded hospital dressing gown, her feet shoved into granny slippers and her hair greasy with smoke from the fire. He should know enough to respect her privacy.
‘What are you doing here?’ She couldn’t keep the coldness out of her voice.
He came towards her so his back was to the other man and spoke quietly. ‘I know. I’m truly sorry, Kay, but there’s— Listen. Be careful what you say. I’m here to help.’ His face carried an urgent warning, but she wasn’t sure what he was trying to tell her.
She nodded abruptly to show that she’d heard him. What was going on? She turned to the other man, who looked a bit awkward as he waited for their exchange to finish. ‘I’m Kay McKinnon,’ she said, holding out her hand, then withdrawing it as she started to cough.
‘I’m DC Norton, Keith Norton. How are you, Mrs McKinnon? Are you sure you’re up to a chat?’
Kay nodded, unable to speak but waving aside his concern. Shaun guided her to a chair and put a bottle of water on the table next to her. She nodded her thanks, accepting, for the moment, his over-punctilious care. Shaun was playing some kind of game, and until she knew what it was, it might be best to go along with it.
‘I’ve been better,’ Kay said cautiously, testing her voice. ‘But not too bad, thanks. Before we start – is there any news about my dog?’ She felt the irritation in her throat again and picked up the water.
‘Yes.’ DC Norton didn’t seem surprised by the question. He told her someone – he wasn’t sure who – had dropped Milo off at the vet’s. He didn’t know any more than that, but she felt the relief of knowing that at least Milo was in a safe place – if he’d survived, he was being looked after.
Kay could tell him very little about the fire. Until the moment she woke up in a burning house, there was nothing much to remember. ‘No,’ she said in response to a question about the electric fire. ‘I do use it sometimes, but I didn’t turn it on last night.’ Far too late, she realised the significance of what he was saying. The smoke must have addled her brain. ‘Are you telling me someone started the fire deliberately?’
‘That’s what it looks like, Mrs McKinnon.’
‘But why? Why would anyone do that?’
‘I was hoping you might be able to help us find out.’
Kay shook her head. She glanced at Shaun to see if he had anything to add, but he was studying his hands, frowning slightly as he listened. There was something wrong, something he wanted her to know, but she couldn’t work out what it was.
She looked back at DC Norton. ‘I can’t help you,’ she said. She had no idea why anyone would try to burn her house down. If they had. Which she wasn’t convinced of. And then that elusive memory came back. ‘Actually –’ she was aware of Shaun coming alert next to her – ‘there was someone at the house last night. There was something making Milo – that’s my dog – uneasy. I thought it was foxes or something – but he just barks at them. Last night, he was different. I think there was someone out there.’
‘Can you remember what time? About?’
Kay thought back. ‘Early evening. I was making tea.’
‘OK.’ The young DC flipped open a pad and made some notes, then he glanced up at her again. ‘I heard you were at Bridlington yesterday. At the drop-in.’
‘Yes. But I don’t see . . .’ Oh. ‘I had a run-in with a couple of lads.’ She told them about her encounter with Liam and Terry. ‘But . . . how would they know where I live?’
‘They’ll know your foster-daughter, Becca, won’t they?’
‘Yes, they probably . . .’ Again, too late, the alarm bells sounded and she realised what Shaun’s warning had been about. Becca had never been charged, but one of the things that got her placed in that secure unit was a fire at the house where she lived with her mother and stepfather.
And Becca had been at the cottage last night. Kay could remember her white, scared face. The police would know that by now.
‘And Becca was there, wasn’t she? Yesterday, at your cottage?’
She was, and she’d been angry when she left, but then Becca was often angry. Kay wanted to snap back, Do your kids ever drop in on you? but that would look defensive, and that was the last impression she wanted to give. ‘She came by.’
‘What time?’
‘I don’t remember. It’s all a bit vague.’
‘We need to talk to her, Mrs McKinnon.’
‘Then I’ll ask her to get in touch with you.’
DC Norton opened his mouth to speak, but Shaun said quickly, ‘Mrs McKinnon has already told you what she’ll do, Constable.’
‘Do you know where—’
‘That’s enough, DC Norton. Mrs McKinnon doesn’t look well. Kay, do you need to lie down?’
Normally, she would have been furious that he was taking over, speaking for her, but right now, she was glad of his help. Norton’s comments about Becca had shaken her up and she needed time to think about this. ‘Yes, I do.’
DC Norton looked pissed off, but he didn’t have much choice. He stood up. ‘Well, thank you for your help, Mrs McKinnon. We can talk again when you’re feeling better. In the meantime, if you think of anything else, give me a ring. I hope you recover soon.’
As the door closed behind the detective, Shaun looked at her. ‘I’m really sorry I burst in on you like this. I didn’t want Norton to ambush you, but I was too late. He was already here.’
‘Thanks for the warning – and for getting rid of him.’ Kay felt her face flush and took refuge in a faked cough that quickly developed into the real thing. Her anger at Shaun had gone, replaced by anger at the police for going after the easy target instead of doing their jobs properly. She knew Becca had nothing to do with the fire, but she couldn’t account for her presence last night and until they’d had a chance to talk, she wasn’t going to try. ‘Why are the police so sure it’s
arson?’
‘Because the heater was set up to look like the cause.’
‘But as soon as they talked to me—’
‘Kay. The arsonist used accelerant. The fire had you trapped in the bedroom, and that window doesn’t open. Whoever set that fire meant to kill you.’
She felt something cold wash over her and was glad she was sitting down. Kill her? Someone had tried to kill her. Why? Shaun was still talking and she made herself pay attention.
‘ . . . have to ask you this. Is there any chance . . .?’
‘That it was Becca? No.’
‘OK. But it might be an idea to have some legal representation standing by for this girl. I can organise that, if you want me to.’
‘Is it really necessary?’
His face was serious. ‘It’s necessary. They think they’ve got a good case. It doesn’t help that she’s taken up with this young man, Jared Godwin. He doesn’t have a record, but if you ask me, it’s because he’s too clever to get caught. He’s a pretty dodgy character.’
Kay could remember Becca heading off up the coast at night, apparently in pursuit of this man. What had she got herself involved in? ‘You’d better tell me what you know.’
‘I only know what Norton told me – Godwin doesn’t have a job, no fixed abode and he has a couple of dodgy websites – porn sites, Norton says – and some on the dark web they can’t access. For what it’s worth, it looks as though he’s dumped your Becca. Apparently, she turned up at the HQ here – in York – with some story about her boyfriend going missing. They tried to ask her about the fire, and she ran off.’
Kay sighed. It was possible Becca could have sorted it all out in that visit, but she was never going to be reasonable around the police. The police had locked her up, and Becca couldn’t take that. ‘Becca can be her own worst enemy. The important thing is they don’t get her on her own. Can you make sure you get legal support to her if they do pick her up?’
‘I’ll do my best, Kay, but if you can get in touch with Becca, get her to give a voluntary statement, that’s the best thing she could do.’
Kay nodded. Shaun had no idea what a big ask that one was, but she could see the wisdom of his advice. ‘Thank you for all your help.’
He smiled. ‘It’s what friends do. By the way, I hope you don’t mind but I stopped off at the cottage on the way and picked this up.’ He was holding out her handbag. ‘The police found it and they let me have it. I picked up a charger for the phone as well – it’s in there.’
‘Thank you,’ she said again. She already knew from previous contacts with him that he was a ‘take charge’ person. That made her wary, but she had to admit his help right now had been invaluable. ‘What state is the cottage in?’
‘I won’t lie to you, Kay. It’s a mess. You can’t go back there. Do you know when they’re letting you out?’
‘Today or tomorrow.’
‘Give me a ring and I’ll come and pick you up. I can sort out a place for you . . .’
Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. ‘It’s OK, Shaun. I have a friend in Scarborough who’ll be happy to put me up.’
‘Of course, of course. But let me take you back. You’ll wait forever for an ambulance.’
He was right. ‘Yes. I’ll call you. And – Shaun? Thank you for all your help. I do appreciate it.’
‘My pleasure.’ He hesitated, then leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
‘I must smell like a barbecue,’ she said.
He grinned. ‘Good job I like barbecues. Don’t forget to call me.’ He left, taking the smell of the outdoors and fresh air with him. Kay made her way back to her bed and lay down. She hadn’t wanted to admit it to Shaun – or to anyone – but that brief period of being up and about had exhausted her.
She plugged her phone into the charger and tried Becca’s number. Unobtainable. Where was Becca? Kay had to warn her. She had the feeling of everything slipping beyond her control.
Shaun said someone had tried to kill her. Why would anyone want to kill her?
If they did, they hadn’t succeeded. Which meant . . . would they try again?
Chapter 52
Becca headed for the bus station. She was starving, but she only had five quid and a bit of change in her pocket – she didn’t dare spend anything until she’d had a chance to check the buses. Her plan had been to go to the hospital and find out how Kay was, but after her interview with Dave and Call-Me-Mandy, she knew she had to get away, get out of York and disappear again as quickly as possible.
They thought she’d tried to kill Kay.
It took her almost half an hour to walk to the bus station, but for once, her luck was in. There was a bus that went right into Whitby, and the next one left in about twenty minutes. She didn’t have enough money for a ticket all the way there, but she had enough to get on the bus. With luck, the driver would forget her. There should be plenty of other travellers. There were only three buses a day.
As she made her way towards the stand, which was at the other side of the station, she felt light-headed and sick. Dark shadows kept creeping in at the sides of her vision. She couldn’t faint – she had to get out of here before anyone else came after her.
The bus was already in and there was a queue of people waiting to board. Next to the stand was a small newspaper kiosk. Becca browsed through the magazines until another customer attracted the attention of the woman behind the counter, then she slipped an energy bar into her pocket. She checked her watch and walked slowly towards the bus, feeling as though everyone was staring at her and was about to denounce her, but no one paid her any attention at all.
The bus was an ordinary double-decker, which made things easier. Becca stood in line and paid her fare, just another passenger among many, and made her way upstairs. She took herself to the back of the bus out of the line of the driver’s periscope, and settled down as comfortably as she could. Her plan was to look out of the window for the first hour until she was sure no one had spotted her as a free rider, then doze for the rest of the journey. Once she was in Whitby, she could decide what to do next.
The bus set off, turning and jolting along the potholed roads. The movement made Becca feel sick, but she made herself eat the energy bar slowly, and gradually the nausea dwindled, leaving her feeling cold and tired. She watched the city go past, fade into endless suburbs, and then they were out into the countryside. Stop, start. Stop, start. With each mile they travelled, it was a mile off the distance she would have to cover if she got thrown off. Once they were on the road across the moors, she tried to sleep, but the bump and rattle of the bus kept waking her.
She was walking across a strange, undulating landscape, empty and cold like the moon. She was looking for something. For someone. But she couldn’t remember where she was or where she was going. She was vaguely aware of people moving about, of the bus stopping and starting, and then she was back in the barren landscape and her restless search. In this state of half sleep, she endured the two-hour journey.
And then finally, stiff and weary, she was climbing down the stairs and off the bus in the centre of Whitby.
She could smell the sea. The air was filled with the cry of gulls as they wheeled over the town. The sky was leaden. The weather had changed from relentlessly wet to grey and cold. Becca wrapped her arms around herself. It was freezing. Her jacket had dried out, but there was no warmth in it.
She knew what she had to do – get to Kay’s and see if Jared had left anything for her there, and maybe get some food, a change of clothes, some walking shoes. She was still in her old ballet slippers; her feet were already sore from trekking through York earlier, and hadn’t recovered from her walking the day before, or the day before that.
But instead of setting off, she slumped down on a low wall and took stock of her situation. There was a cold, shivery feeling deep inside her and an ache in her throat. All she wanted to do was curl up somewhere warm and sleep. It was like her time on the streets, a time she thought she’d left be
hind forever, a time when her days were a blur of hunger and tiredness. It was like being in the stripped-down cell in the secure unit when they left her in the cold with nothing more than a blanket, and any sleep she managed was disrupted by the clatter of the peep hole being yanked open and then closed again.
All those years at Kay and Matt’s, all those exams, college, even the job at the drop-in, and here she was, right at the bottom again, below Liam, below Terry, below Paige, because who knew where Paige was?
Her head jerked and her eyes snapped open. She’d fallen asleep and almost slipped off the wall. There was no point in sitting here like a big loser. She tried to remember the route to Kay’s, tried to tell herself it really wasn’t that far, but she knew it was going to take her well over an hour to get there on foot. She lifted her chin and made herself stumble to her feet. If she had to walk for an hour to get to Kay’s, then now was a good time to get started.
Chapter 53
It took Becca more than an hour to walk. By the time she got there, her feet were almost too painful for her to stand, her hands were numb with cold and the rest of her felt as bruised and battered as if she’d been beaten up. But she’d made it. She was here, standing outside Kay’s cottage in the grey afternoon light.
From the front, it barely looked touched, but as she walked round the house, she could see the smoke-blackened walls framing an upstairs window that had been just about pulled out.
They must have got Kay out from up there. She must have been trapped behind that window in the fire. It had been that close.
The front door was boarded up; the back door was locked. All the windows were closed. Becca sank down onto the step. She was here, but so far, she was no better off. It was hard to think with the shivery feeling and the way her throat ached.
And where was Jared?
She’d got the impression he was at the cottage when she phoned him, so where had he gone? He might have come back here and if he had done, he’d probably park in the lane where his car was out of sight. She stood up, not bothering to stifle the groan her painful feet elicited, and limped the short way across the field to the side road where they’d left the car before.