The Doll's House

138

‘Get out of my way.’

‘You’re not going in there.’

‘For the last time, stand aside or I will arrest you.’

DC Sanderson was bellowing now, eyeball to eyeball with the fire sergeant who blocked her path. Behind them, black smoke belched from the interior of Ben Fraser’s house.

‘This is my scene now,’ he replied, shouting to be heard above the sirens and activity. ‘This is my fire. And until it is under control, you have no authority here. So I would encourage you to step back -’

But Sanderson had already rounded him and was sprinting towards the burning house. There was no way she was leaving Helen alone in there. Her boss had been gone over ten minutes already. The smoke fumes were bad enough out here, what must they be like inside, near the seat of the fire? Helen wouldn’t have stayed down there all this time unless something had gone badly wrong.

Sanderson crested the threshold of the house, but even as she did so she felt herself flying backwards again, away from the house. A pair of rough hands had her by the shoulders. She lashed out, trying to force her way back into the house, but the heavy, gloved hands of a firefighter dragged her back, pinning her arms by her sides, forcing her to the ground. She continued to thrash but his knee was now pressed into the small of her back, rendering further resistance futile.

As she lay there pinioned and breathless, the enraged face of the fire sergeant lowered itself to her level.

‘If you so much as move a muscle, I will order your colleagues to arrest you, do I make myself clear?’

Sanderson stared at him, refusing to acknowledge his ultimatum. He was only doing his job, but in her eyes he was condemning Helen to a gruesome death. So when she did finally speak, her response was terse and bitter.

‘Go to Hell.’