Mark took a second to compose himself. He didn’t have kids either. They had had a child, he and his wife, Melissa, and though his son’s life might have been too short, Mark had grieved more than he would ever let on. Melissa had needed him to be strong, Mark had realised that as he’d watched her nursing their premature child in her arms. Her heart had been breaking as Jacob’s weak lungs had stopped fighting. In those bleak weeks afterwards, Mel had fought to stave off a deep, dark depression born of carrying a child, giving birth to a child and then having that child cruelly stolen away. Mark had been dying inside. Probably the only person who’d guessed how much he was hurting, and how frustrated and angry he’d felt after two subsequent miscarriages, was Lisa.
No, it didn’t need a great leap of the imagination to envisage how terrified in such circumstances a small child might be. Swallowing back a tight knot in his throat, Mark closed his eyes, offering up a silent prayer for the girl, before turning back to Cummings. ‘You might as well go home,’ he said tiredly.
‘Oh? Why’s that then?’ Cummings asked, eyeing him warily as Mark headed for the door. Ever since Mark had caught him in the act of groping a female member of staff and attempted to wipe the floor with him, Cummings had been jumpy around him. More so once he’d realised Mark was on to his little transgressions with confiscated items. Drugs mostly, nothing major, but there was no way it could be overlooked. Cummings had also been quietly watching him, Mark was aware, as if waiting for him to slip up; probably looking for ammunition to use against him should Mark bring his suspicions to the attention of their superior officers.
‘You’re surplus to requirements,’ he clarified. ‘I’m thinking this isn’t a crime scene.’
Cummings looked doubtful. ‘But aren’t there traces of accelerant?’
‘It’s bonfire night,’ Mark reminded him. ‘Judging by the embers outside and the obvious signs of alcohol consumption, the family were partying. Chances are the accelerant was to make sure the party didn’t get rained off.’
It had got the fire going all right, hadn’t it, he thought jadedly. The idiots park the accelerant in the kitchen, a stray spark ignites the fumes, and bang, a fucking inferno. Mark quashed an overwhelming sense of anger. What were they thinking, taking that sort of risk with a four-year-old child in the house?
‘I’ll assess whether we need to drag the forensic specialists out of bed. DS Moyes and I can handle the rest. Once the coroner arrives, you might as well go and catch up on your beauty sleep. You look as if you could use it.’ The last was added acerbically, bearing in mind Cummings’ penchant for touring red-light districts.
Mark turned away from Cummings and headed for the main bedroom. There, the smell was more cloying; the coppery odour of iron-rich burned blood suffused with barbecued meat turned his stomach over. Supressing the urge to retch, Mark forced himself further into the room, almost stepping on what remained of one of the corpses as he did. The mother, he gathered. Burned where she lay, her body in much the same foetal position as the little girl, though through muscle flexion rather than fear, as she’d obviously been trying to get to the door.
Working to keep his nausea in check, he walked around the bed. The father had obviously headed for the window. Blackened and charred, clothes and curtain material melted into his flesh, his body was barely recognisable as human.
Mark couldn’t begin to imagine the pain they must have gone through. Was smoke inhalation a less painful death, he wondered, his mind going back to the little girl. A forensic specialist had once assured him it was, marginally. Either way it was a fucking horrific way to go. Dammit. He needed to get out of here. He needed to breathe. Curtailing his anger, Mark headed back to the landing to concentrate on the practicalities of what needed to be done.
Gulping a lungful of slightly less stifling air as he exited the house, he glanced around, assessing the location. An isolated country property located on the Worcester and Herefordshire border. He’d already noted the absence of a fence or gate dividing the land from the road.
Pondering options for a perimeter, he was gazing into the woodland on the opposite side of the road when DS Moyes joined him. ‘How’s it going?’ he asked her.
‘Slowly.’ Lisa sighed. ‘I sent one of the first attending officers to the local pub. The landlord was pissed off at being knocked up, but he confirmed he was here last night and that there hadn’t been any arguments or suspect incidents. Guests were mostly local apparently. He’s going to let us have some names.’
‘Right.’ Mark nodded. ‘I actually meant how’s it going with you?’
‘Good. I’m good,’ Moyes assured him, her gaze fixed to the front.
Mark noted the determined set of her jaw. ‘Bullshit.’
Lisa’s shoulders deflated. ‘Yeah,’ she said, running her hand through her short crop of hair. ‘Sorry about back there. It’s just… Cummings can be a right tactless twat sometimes.’
Mark sighed empathetically. ‘Tell me about it.’
‘I could imagine it’ – Lisa tugged in a tight breath – ‘how terrified that little girl must have been. I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost one of my children. I suppose the small plus is the parents won’t have to go through the grieving— Oh God.’ She squeezed her eyes closed. ‘Sorry, Mark. I wasn’t thinking. I—’
‘It’s fine,’ Mark said quickly.
Lisa obviously got the gist. ‘So, how’s Mel?’ she asked, her voice falsely bright.
‘Good,’ Mark assured her, happy to talk about his wife. ‘Throwing herself into her work. She’s managed to get a couple of commissions supplying local craft centres, so… Yup, she’s doing okay.’
Outwardly, Melissa and Lisa were as different as chalk and cheese. Taller than Lisa, with long, softly curled hair the colour of soft copper, Mel was meditative, rarely outspoken unless with good cause, caring. As was Lisa, but there the similarity ended. Lisa was definitely outspoken, and she could curse with the best of them. Inwardly, though, they were made of the same stuff, with a steely determination to keep going no matter what shit life dealt them. Having survived an abusive relationship, it was no wonder Lisa would have nil respect for a Neanderthal of Cummings ilk. Mark wouldn’t say it to her face, but having grown up in the midst of an abusive relationship himself, he had a profound respect for her. Lisa had been a friend to Mel when she’d needed one, and Mark had been grateful.
Mark smiled as his mind drifted to Mel, who of late could usually be found at her potter’s wheel. Somehow, she’d pulled herself out of the pit of despair she’d fallen into and built up a business, albeit a fledgling one, from scratch. Mark was in awe of her.
‘Excellent,’ Lisa said, looking pleased. ‘And are you two still… um… you know.’
Noting the insinuating arch of her eyebrows, Mark got the drift. ‘Yes, we’re still trying,’ he confided. And hoping, he added silently, that by some miracle that one day they would be blessed with the child they both desperately wanted.
‘You’re a handsome bastard.’ Lisa smirked. ‘Who could resist?’
Mark shook his head. ‘I could think of a few.’
‘And modest with it. Be still my beating heart.’ Lisa fluttered her eyelashes theatrically. ‘Well, you know what they say, practice makes perfect and all that. It’ll happen,’ she said, glancing over her shoulder as one of the first attending officers approached from the house. ‘Probably when you least expect it. Keep it up, Detective.’
Mark’s mouth twitched into a smile as she gave him a thumbs up and turned to liaise with the uniform. Praying it would happen, for both of their sakes, Mark pulled in a sigh and turned his attention back to the task of setting up the perimeter.
‘I’m heading back in,’ Lisa said. ‘They’re removing the bodies.’
Turning back, Mark arched an eyebrow, surprised she was so keen. He was all for facing fears head on – his biggest fear in his young life had been his own father, until he’d plucked up enough courage to confront him – but Lisa had been visibly upset in there. ‘You sure?’ he asked her. ‘You can always take over out here while I go in.’
Lisa nodded resolutely. ‘I’d like to be with her. Make sure she’s all right, if that makes any sense.’