Liar Liar

97

Encouraged by his parents, Ethan Harris leant forward and took the plastic spoon in his mouth. He had been officially released from the burns unit two hours previously and was now tucked away in a private room, where he would remain until a car came to pick him up. He had come off the drip now since dehydration was no longer a concern, but he needed to build his strength up again – he needed to eat – and milky Weetabix was all he could face. His throat had been irritated and inflamed by the hot smoke, so taking anything more solid was out of the question.

The seventeen-year-old had tried to feed himself but his hand shook too much to guide the spoon properly. This was partly a result of his medical condition – he had suffered from cerebral palsy since birth – but partly due to the shock of his experience. The boy could barely keep still, the rhythm of his trauma seeming to resonate through his shaking body. He had come very close to death last night, and even though in the end he’d had a very lucky escape, the legacy of his experience would linger for years to come.

Helen knew how he must be feeling. She had stared death in the face, had found herself in situations that took her beyond ordinary fear to a much darker place. So she let the boy take his time, helped and guided by his parents. At least he had his mother and father to support him, Helen thought. Others, such as Luke Simms and Callum Roberts, were not so lucky.

After a few mouthfuls, Ethan decided that he’d had enough. His parents took the bowl from him and placed it on the side table, then turned to face Helen. They weren’t exactly hostile, but they didn’t seem keen to encourage questions either, which Helen understood. In their shoes, she’d have felt exactly the same.

‘I know you need to take it very easy, so I’ll keep this brief. If at any time you want me to stop just say so, ok?’

Ethan nodded, so she continued.

‘According to your parents, you usually turn the light out at around ten thirty p.m. on a school night. Is that what happened last night?’

‘Yes,’ Ethan croaked, immediately wincing as he did so. The smoke damage to his larynx and throat was not severe, but it was painful. He had a small burn on his left palm and some abrasions on his face – but overall he’d been remarkably fortunate, given the intensity of the blaze.

‘What happened after that? Did you read at all?’

‘Yes.’

‘Until what time?’

‘Eleven p.m.’ he replied.

‘And then you went to sleep?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you hear or see anything after that which alarmed or surprised you? Anything out of the ordinary?’

Ethan shook his head.

‘You don’t remember the doorbell ringing? Or a phone call or anything between your turning the light out and discovering the fire?’

‘No.’

Helen took this in.

‘How had Agnieszka been with you that evening? Was she ok in herself? Normal?’

‘She was good. Fine.’

‘She hadn’t been having any problems recently?’ Helen said, now addressing herself to Jacqueline and Michael Harris. ‘Any boyfriend problems? Money worries?’

‘Not that she told us of,’ Michael responded. ‘She seemed very steady. Then again, she’d only been with us for three months, so whether she would have felt comfortable coming to us, I don’t know.’

‘So the first thing you encountered that was out of the ordinary was your discovery of the fire?’ she said, turning back to Ethan once more.

‘Yes.’

‘Can you describe to me what happened?’

Ethan took a deep breath. Whether this was to brace himself for the physical pain that was to come or because of the emotions his memories aroused, Helen wasn’t sure.

‘I was in bed. The smell of smoke was very strong and… when I switched on the bedside light, I still couldn’t see anything.’

‘What then?’

‘I called for Agnieszka but… I didn’t hear anything. I was panicking – I knew what was happening. So I got out of bed and walked to the door and then I felt it…’

He paused, asking his parents for some water, which he drank down greedily, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat.

‘Felt?’

‘I could tell a seizure was coming on. I get a tingling feeling in my hands and feet first and then my vision goes. Everything takes on a kind of glow and well… I guess I knew I had to try to get out before it came on properly.’

Helen nodded but said nothing. She could see his parents were affected by his description. It must have been terrifying trying to escape the fire with that kind of time pressure hanging over you.

‘Next thing I know, someone’s carrying me. And it’s hot, hotter than I could ever have imagined. Did Agnieszka get out ok?’

Helen glanced quickly at Ethan’s parents. She had thought they might have broken the news to their son, but they’d obviously decided he wasn’t ready for it yet. They gave Helen a small nod to proceed.

‘I’m afraid she didn’t make it. I’m very sorry.’

Ethan took this in, shaking his head slightly.

‘How did she die?’

It was a tough question to answer, especially to a kid.

‘The fire started in the basement. It would have been very quick – she wouldn’t have suffered.’

Ethan nodded, then turned to his parents. They were quick to comfort him. Everyone present was thinking that Ethan could have ended up the same way.

‘That’s enough for now. I’m going to leave my card with your parents. If you think of anything else that might be relevant, please do get in touch. In the meantime, rest up and try not to worry. We’ll get whoever did this to you – you have my word.’

Helen took her leave. She walked down the corridor fast, her thoughts tumbling over each other. So far they had no real witnesses, nothing tangible from CCTV and still no clear motive. Helen had resisted the idea of a curfew when it had been mooted – it seemed a gross overreaction – but given the proficiency and determination of their killer, it was beginning to feel like they no longer had a choice.