Stone statue? They must be talking about that awful monstrosity Mum sent me for Christmas. I shoved it to the back of the garage so I wouldn’t have to look at it. If I had only known it would be used in such an awful way, I would never have taken delivery.
“She also has burns on her feet and legs, as if someone set light to her. See the burn marks here… and here?”
A single tear slides down my cheek.
“It’s not pretty, is it?”
I stare at the horrible images.
“How could I possibly have done this?” I ask, trying to pull myself together.
“I was at work when Holly went missing. You can check with my colleagues.”
“We have. You were seen leaving the building on several occasions. Where did you go?”
“I… I went to my car a couple of times. And I had a couple of coffee breaks with Jon the security guard. You can ask him.”
Except for that one time, when he went to speak to the police patrol car to see if he could find out what was going on.
“And then… well, I was in the warehouse for a while as you know. But surely you have all this on CCTV?”
Penney sits up sharply. “We would,” he says and looks at me accusingly. “If someone hadn’t tampered with the footage.”
“You can’t possibly think that was me! Why would I do that? That footage would have exonerated me!”
“If you’re innocent.”
“I am innocent.” And starting to sound like a broken record.
“What we want to know, Isabel, is who you’re working with. You can’t have done everything yourself. Not all those fires on the same night.”
“No, I couldn’t.”
“Look, we might be able to offer you a deal here. Just tell us who you’re working with. Who else is in your organisation? We need names.”
She glances at my lawyer and he looks at me.
“Do you need time to confer?”
“No! I didn’t attack anyone. I didn’t set any fires, and I’m not ‘working’ with anyone!”
“Very well then.”
Millrose produces a second envelope and pulls out another picture.
“Do you know this man?”
“No.” I’m almost afraid to ask. “Who is he?”
“Ben Palmer, local firefighter. He was badly injured three weeks ago, tackling a fire at the Be Beautiful beauty salon just outside Queensbeach. Do you know it?”
I nod, numbly.
That’s where I get my hair and nails done.
“We suspect that fire was started on purpose.”
She shows me another picture. “And this is Jill Seymour. She and her elderly mother, Ruth, suffered burns in a fire at a greengrocer’s in Sandford Dunes last year. That one was also started deliberately. They were lucky to get out alive.”
She sets down the photos. “And these might just be the tip of the iceberg. How many fires has FRY started over the years, Isabel?”
“I don’t know.”
“Take a good, long look at the photos.”
“It wasn’t me!” I insist. “Can’t you see how ludicrous this all is? Check my record – I’ve never even had so much as a parking ticket! And I hadn’t even heard of FRY until I met Alicia. I still don’t even know what it stands for!”
I look at Millrose and she looks at me. As adamant as I am that I have done nothing wrong, she is equally convinced of my guilt.
Just when I don’t think I can bear any more of these riddles, I am dismissed, banished with my lawyer to another room.
“What do you think they’re doing?” I ask, thankful for the reprieve.
“They could be interviewing another witness,” he guesses.
“Alicia!” I gasp. The thought of her being just across the hall makes me want to vomit. But she doesn’t know I’m in here, does she?
Two hours later, Millrose confirms my worst fear.
“We’ve just spoken to Alicia McBride.”
“Have you let her go? She’s a psychopath! She tried to kill me!”
I can feel myself getting hysterical.
Millrose is oblivious to my anxiety. “Alicia had some very interesting things to say. For one, now that she knows the seriousness of the allegations against you, she’s retracted the false alibi she gave you before Christmas. She also said that it’s you who’s been waging a vendetta against her – because you’re jealous of her relationship with Deacon Frost.”
“But that’s not true!”
“Are you jealous, Isabel?”
The colour creeps into my cheeks before I can do anything about it.
“Alicia’s only with him to get at me.”
“She said she’s tried to be your friend, but you’ve been acting increasingly irrationally. She said she’s been avoiding you lately because you’ve been behaving so oddly.”
“Avoiding me!” I burst out. “She hounds me day and night! Lurks outside my house with her sister, watching my every move! And… and… she’s the one with the word ‘FRY’ branded into her back!”
Explain that one, Alicia.
“Yes, that came up. She said you did it.”
“What?”
“She said you assaulted her with a branding iron, years back, when she was just a kid at Camp Windylake.”
“That’s just not true! Why would I do that?”
“She said you tried to recruit her to work for you, and you didn’t like it when she said no.”
“Recruit her to do what? She was only ten!”
“To break into houses and set light to them. She said you needed a child, someone who could fit through small windows.”
“What? That’s complete fiction, a fairytale! She always was full of crap!”
And yet, there’s something distinctly familiar about this story. I feel like I’ve heard it before. I think hard, trying to catch the disjointed bits of memory before they go up in smoke. I know there’s something in there, hidden away. I feel like Alicia’s just given me a clue.
“This was ten years ago, Isabel. Just how long have you been taking money to set fires?”
I shake my head.
“I haven’t.”
At least, I don’t think I have.
What is wrong with me? Am I starting to doubt myself?
A little later, some kind of meal is served, but I can barely look at what’s put in front of me. The image of Holly, badly injured and burned sits heavy on my conscience and in my stomach. And what about those other people – the ones who were hurt? They can’t possibly have any connection to me. Can they? I have this incredible crushing sensation in my chest, like my insides are caving in. It’s not just fear anymore, it’s something else. But what? Guilt?
Can I have done this? Can I have broken into houses and set them alight for money? Is it possible I’m so crazy, that I’ve been leading a double life all along?
No, that’s ridiculous!
But if I’m so innocent, then why do I feel so guilty?
A spark of something blazes a trail through my mind. I don’t know what it is. The room turns red. I feel as if I am seeing everything through a red-tinted lens, as though I am trapped in Alicia’s painting – the one she did when she was ten. Everything looks ghoulish, blood-splattered. Tainted with death and destruction.
This is not real. It can’t be…
I squeeze my eyes shut, and when I open them, all the red has gone.
I’m sitting in a different seat now, and there’s a custody officer standing in front of me. I realise that something important is happening and yet I struggle to focus. Penney starts speaking, but I hear his words as if I’m not really there, but floating high above them, my brain completely disconnected from my body.
“Isabel Victoria Anderson, you are charged with the abduction and attempted murder of Holly Handsworth, plus multiple counts of arson.”