FRY

Chapter Twenty

I hold onto the edge and let my legs dangle precariously over the car park below.

“Don’t jump! It’s too high.”

“But what choice do we have? It’s getting so hot.”

The panic is returning. The same terrible panic I felt when we were trapped inside. I can’t just sit here. I have to do something. Anything.

“Please – the fire brigade will be here any moment. There’s no way they could miss all this smoke.”

But what if they don’t get to us in time?

I feel the bile rise in my throat as I edge closer to the brink. I’m not going to die up here. I have to be prepared to do this.

And that’s when the bright whirling lights flash through the night, accompanied by the very best sound I’ve ever heard:

Nee-Naw, Nee-Naw, Nee-Naw.

“Oh god, oh god! They’re here!”

We wave our arms in the air, shout with renewed vigour.

“Up here! We’re up here!”

“They can’t see us!”

Tears steam down my face, not just from the smoke, but also from sheer frustration.

“Why can’t they see us?”

Deacon cups his hands over his mouth and shouts for all he’s worth:

“Help! We’re up on the roof! Heeeeeelp!”

There is a loud cracking sound and Deacon grabs my hand again, as the whole roof shakes.

“What’s that? What’s happening?”

Then, completely without warning, a ladder reels into sight, and a big brawny fireman reaches out his hand to me.

“It’s OK, love. You’re going to be fine. You’re both going to be fine.”

“Oh thank god!”

I cling to him for dear life as he plucks me from the rooftop and helps me onto the ladder. But as I start to make my descent, there is another loud crack from above.

“Deacon?”

“You just get yourself down,” the fireman says. “I’ll help your friend.”

I do as I’m told and climb safely down to the bottom, but all the time, I’m very aware that there are no footsteps above me. I don’t look up until I reach the bottom rung. I can’t see anything but a cloud of billowing smoke. No Deacon, no fireman.

I barely notice as someone comes up to me and slips a foil blanket around my shoulders.

“Can you move? Good. Please come this way. This area is unsafe.”

I step back as loose tiles and other building materials rain down from the roof.

What’s happening? Where’s Deacon?

“Quick! The roof is collapsing!” One of the firemen shouts. “They’ll never get out alive!”

“No!”

I have to do something!

I spring to my feet, hauling myself back up onto the first rung of the ladder, but strong arms pull me back.

“No, it’s too dangerous!”

I turn to find myself looking into the disapproving eyes of a fireman.

“Come on, out of the way. We need to make the area safe.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Just stay out of the way. We’re doing everything we can.”

Instead of helping Deacon, I’m just getting in the way.

I hunch over, seized by another coughing fit. But I am conscious of every second that ticks by.

Where are you?

Suddenly, a cheer goes up around the car park. I look up to see a pair of feet emerging from the cloud. It’s the fireman! I hold back my tears as he starts climbing down. For a moment I don’t see Deacon, but then he comes into view. His face is black with soot, his hair singed, but he smiles and waves as if he’s just been elected mayor. The crowd cheers again, but Deacon looks only at me.

“It’s OK now,” he whispers, when he reaches me. “We’re safe now.”

If only it were that simple…

“I need to speak to the police!” I cough, as we are herded away from the burning building. “Please, it’s urgent!”

“No, don’t try to talk. We have to get you to the hospital.”

I open my mouth to speak again, but a paramedic pulls an oxygen mask over my head and it’s as much I can do to breathe.

“I need to speak to the police,” I say again, as soon as we arrive at the hospital, but nobody seems to be listening. I have trouble keeping my eyes open as Deacon and I are subjected to various tests and x-rays. Amazingly, neither of us is badly burnt, but we are both suffering from the effects of smoke inhalation. I try desperately to stay awake, but there’s only so long I can fight the deep sleep my body yearns for.

Some hours later, a nurse wakes me.

“You didn’t like your lunch?”

“What?” I sit up and rub my eyes. I appear to be on a ward – a private room even? I glance down at the table beside me, where a plate of macaroni sits congealing.

How long has that been there? How long have I been here?

I lean forward and cough. Not my usual smoker’s cough, but a really nasty, long, mucousy one.

“Don’t worry, that should clear up in a day or two.”

“Good.” I try to focus my mind. Visions of the fire flash before my eyes. I picture Alicia, sneering, laughing and glance nervously around. Is she here? Or has she gone to ground after her latest stunt? Either way, I’m not going to hang around to find out. Gingerly, I get to my feet and walk down the hall to the communal bathroom. I take a long hot shower, but no matter how much I scrub, I can’t get rid of the noxious smell of smoke.

“You’re looking much better,” the doctor says, once she’s examined me. “That sleep must have done you the world of good. I’m happy for you to go home, though you might want to take it easy for a couple of days.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, and you’ve got a visitor waiting outside.”

Deacon?

I rush to the door.

But no, it’s Kate. I forgot she works at the hospital.

“Oh, Isabel, I just heard! Are you alright?” She rushes over to me and gives me a huge hug.

“I’m fine – I’ve just been discharged. Have you seen Deacon?”

“I just came from his room. He looks tired, but otherwise OK. He’s hoping the doctor’s going to discharge him too.”

“Thank goodness.”

I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to him.

Kate perches on the end of my bed.

“Do you want to talk about it, the fire?”

I look down at my hands. “Oh Kate, it was awful. All the doors were locked and we couldn’t get out. I thought we were going to die.”

She leans in closer. “But what on earth were you trying to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Deacon said you were trying to set light to the warehouse. Why on earth would you do such a thing?”

My pulse races at the memory. “I didn’t have much choice.”

“Why not?”

“Because… because they’ve got Holly. Oh hell, I have to tell the police!”

I leap up and look around for some clothes, other than the white hospital gown I’m wearing.

“Wait – who’s Holly?” Then a flash of recognition crosses her face. “You don’t mean the private detective?”

“She’s not just a private detective, Kate. I mean, she is a private detective, but she’s also…” I swallow. “She’s also Julio’s fiancée and she’s been trying to help me. She rang me last night to say she was outside Jody’s house, then the next thing I knew, I got a call from Jody herself.”

“Jody? You mean the woman who looks like Alicia?”

“I think she’s her sister.”

“What did she say?”

I remember the conversation word for word. It is as vivid in my memory now, as if it happened just a minute ago. I don’t think I will ever forget it. It was the most terrifying conversation of my life…

Jody’s voice is cold and flat – completely devoid of human emotion.

“You need to listen very carefully, Isabel. I’m about to give you a set of instructions. If you want to help your friend, you must follow everything to the letter.”

“What… what are you talking about?”

“You’re going to start a fire at Robertson’s tonight.”

“You can’t expect me to do that! People could get hurt!”

“You’ll do it!” she barks. “You’ll find a big can of petrol in your locker. Use that. And I need you to transmit live pictures onto the Internet, over your phone, as proof.”

“I… I don’t even know how to stream live pictures.”

“You’ll be sent a link, explaining how. Just check your email.”

There is no prospect of compromise in her voice. “You have until four AM, or Holly burns.”

“But I…”

Before I can say another word, I hear the most sickening scream on the other end of the phone. A sound filled with total terror. It’s Holly.

“No! What are you doing to her? Leave her alone!”

But the screams just get louder, more anguished.

“OK, I’ll do it!” I say, frantically. “I’ll do it! Just let her go.”

“As soon as you start the fire.”

“Wait – how do I know you’ll really let her go?”

“You have my word.”

“No, I want proof. I want a picture of her driving away in her car.”

“You’ll get it. Just as soon as you start the fire.”

Kate stares at me, totally open-mouthed. I’m not sure if she believes me, or if she just thinks I’m crazy. Either way, she is kind and sympathetic.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“No! Take me to the police station.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I don’t have a choice. I have to tell them about Holly.”

“OK, just wait a second – I’ll grab you some clothes.”

She disappears out the door and comes back a couple of minutes later with an old pair of jeans and a jumper. I don’t ask her where she got them. I just throw them on and grab my watch from the bedside table.

I am just pulling on my shoes when there is a knock at the door.

“Isabel Anderson?”

“Who is it?”

“It’s the police!”

The door swings open as two police officers enter. DS Penney places a firm hand on my shoulder.

“Isabel Anderson, I’m arresting you on suspicion of committing arson at Robertson’s Superstore.”

“No!”

“You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention…”

“It’s not me you want! You’ve got the wrong person!” I try to wriggle free, but I feel my arms being pulled behind my back. All the while, Penney continues to rattle off his spiel.

“You’ve got the wrong person! Tell them, Kate! Holly is in terrible danger. You have to listen to me!”

Penney’s partner pushes me forcefully towards the door.

“You can tell us everything down at the station.”

I barely notice the stares of other patients as the police frogmarch me out of the hospital. Deep down, I am too consumed with guilt about Holly to care what happens to me. How could I have slept, when I don’t even know if she’s dead or alive? Vital hours have been lost, hours the police could have used to find her.

The custody sergeant takes my details and we weave our way through the long corridors of Queensbeach Police Station. They lead me to an interview room – the very same one I was in the last time I was here. That same dark, dingy room with no windows and no natural light. All the time we’re waiting for the duty solicitor, I am begging them to look for Holly. But I don’t think they believe me. I’m not sure they’re even listening. They’ve got their own agenda. I don’t get to ask the questions, least of all make any demands.

I am given a cup of water, which I drink in a single gulp – my throat is still raw from the fire. I long for a cigarette to calm my nerves, though I know that’s the last thing my body needs. My head aches. Everything aches and oh, how I long to be curled up in bed with Fluffy beside me.

My lawyer arrives – not the woman I had last time, but a bald, freckly man with a ginger beard and glasses. We talk in private for a few minutes and I give him an abridged version of what happened. The more detail I go into, the madder it sounds. He raises his eyebrows but nods and acts like he hears this kind of thing every day.

“I think your best course of action is just to tell the truth,” he advises.

I nod my head in agreement. Nervous as I am, I am keen to get it all off my chest.

Penney’s colleague presses the record button, and the interview begins.

“I’m DCI Millrose,” she introduces herself. “And I think you know DS Penney?”

“Yes.”

She waits for me to finish coughing before she continues.

“You have been arrested because you were caught on camera trying to set light to Robertson’s Superstore.”

I shake my head. “You don’t understand. It’s not how it looks.”

“Isn’t it? We pulled this off Ustream.”

She places a laptop in front of me and clicks on a video. It’s a clip of me about to set light to the warehouse – the clip I filmed myself. I glance at my lawyer. He’s doesn’t say anything, but I can see he’s biting his lip. This does not look good.

Millrose leans forward and presses her point. “If it wasn’t for the arrival of your friend at the crucial moment, you would have done it, wouldn’t you?”

“But I didn’t do it, did I? You can see for yourself. And I didn’t have a choice. I told you, they’ve got Holly.”

“And who’s Holly?”

“My brother’s fiancée. I already told you all this in the car.”

“Well, once again for the tape, please. Who is it you say has taken her?”

“Alicia McBride and her sister, Jody.”

Penney screws up his forehead. “Your friend Alicia? The same one who recently gave you an alibi?”

I colour at the memory. How stupid was I, accepting Alicia’s help?

“She’s not my friend. She just pretends to be. She’s got some strange vendetta against me – she and her sister.”

“And why would that be?”

“I don’t know exactly. I think it might have something to do with my brother Julio. Jody used to go out with him – a long time ago. I think… I think she might be the one who started the fire at Rose Cottage. It happened just after Julio broke up with her.”

“Let’s just stick with the fire at Robertson’s for now. Are you saying that you were blackmailed into starting that fire?”

“Yes, except I didn’t succeed, as you saw on the tape.”

“Why did the place catch fire then? You can’t expect us to believe that was a coincidence?”

“No, Alicia must have done it. She must have known I might not go through with it. She might even have sent Deacon the text message that made him come rushing over and catch me in the act.”

“So you’re saying they blackmailed you into starting a fire, then sabotaged your attempt to do so?”

“Yes. I know it sounds strange, but that’s exactly how it happened. It wasn’t just about starting a fire. It was about tormenting me.”

Millrose shakes her head. “Congratulations, Isabel. I think that’s just about the most convoluted story I’ve ever heard and I’ve heard a few in my time. Couldn’t you come up with anything simpler?”

“But it’s the truth! You’ve got to believe me! I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I made sure the place was empty first. And I was going to put it out straight away – as soon as I’d filmed it. But I didn’t even get that far. I certainly didn’t set any more fires. Why would I? Deacon and I were trapped in the warehouse!” My voice wobbles a little. “We nearly died in there, and I think Alicia and Jody planned it that way. I think they meant to kill us. Or rather, I don’t think they cared if we lived or died. It’s all the same to them.”

Millrose folds her arms in front of her. “I’ll tell you why this is so difficult for me to believe, Isabel. First, you made threats, then you were caught on camera trying to set a fire, with the strangest of explanations I’ve ever heard.”

“Threats?” I say, in confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never made any threats!”

“Didn’t you? Well, someone rang the police station yesterday to say that there would be a fire at Robertson’s. The call was traced to a phone box in the precinct next to the supermarket. We are just checking the CCTV pictures now, but I’m betting we’re going to find that it was you.”

“But it wasn’t a threat! I was trying to warn you!”

“How did you know?” she challenges. “This happened some hours before you were supposedly blackmailed.”

“They left a huge can of petrol in my locker. I knew it had to mean something.”

“The same can of petrol you were going to use to set fire to the warehouse? How did they know to put it there? How did they know Holly was going to follow Jody home that night? I thought you said it was a spontaneous decision?”

“It was… I… I don’t know exactly how they planned it. If it hadn’t been Holly they’d kidnapped, maybe it would have been someone else. Julio, or my friend Kate or Rhett… or Deacon. I don’t know how their warped minds work.”

Penney clears his throat. “There were quite a few fires in Queensbeach last night. Shame you didn’t try to warn us about any of the others.”

I look at him blankly. “There were?”

Is that why the fire brigade took so long to get to us?

“Yes, in fact, we’ve had more than our fair share of them over the last few months, wouldn’t you say?”

“Well, yes, there do seem to have been quite a number.”

“Does the word ‘FRY’ mean anything to you, Isabel?” Millrose cuts in.

“What?” I sit up sharply.

“You heard me. FRY. F.R.Y. Does it mean anything to you?”

“It… yes. That’s the word Alicia has branded onto her back. The word she uses to taunt me. I see it everywhere I go but I have no idea what it actually means.”

“Really?”

She places a piece of paper in front of me.

“What’s this?”

“Read it.”

Puzzled, my eyes scan the page.

I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”

Millrose leans closer, as though she’s about to share an important secret with me. “This is from the bank statement of a local businessman called Dan Jones. It shows a money transfer from Mr Jones to an organisation called FRY.”

She looks me right in the eye as she continues. “For a while, we’ve suspected that this organisation, FRY, is involved with illegal activities – arson, money laundering and racketeering.”

What? Is that why they set the fires? For money?

“But what has all this got to do with me?”

“We’ve obtained a document from Companies House registry, which names you, Isabel, as the legal owner of FRY.”

“What? But I never even knew FRY existed! How could I possibly be the legal owner?”

“Then what’s that at the bottom, Isabel?”

“It looks like a signature.” I do a double take.

My signature.

“No! That’s not my signature. I’ve never seen this thing before in my life! And besides, if I were really the head of a criminal organisation, I doubt I’d be stupid enough to get it registered in my own name! If anything, I’d open up a secret bank account in the Seychelles or something.”

“So you’ve thought about it then?”

“This is ridiculous!”

“Is it? I bet if we search your house we’ll find more evidence. Insurance scams, competition, revenge. Whatever the motive, you’ll set the fire for a fee. Isn’t that right, Miss Anderson?”

“No!”