Liar Liar - [8]

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their handiwork. Helen wondered to herself if the person responsible for this awful crime was looking at her right now.

A sound made her turn – DI Sanderson was approaching, her face drained and sombre.

‘We just took a call from South Hants Hospital,’ she said quickly. ‘Karen Simms died just before two a.m. this morning. Cardiac arrest and multiple organ failure.’

‘Is anybody down there?’

‘DC Brooks is on site.’

‘Get in touch. Tell her to stick close to Thomas Simms and offer him whatever support she can.’

Sanderson hurried off, pulling her mobile from her pocket. Helen watched her go, a rising feeling of dread creeping over her. This was no longer a nasty case of arson.

This was now a murder enquiry.

11

The hospital was like a maze and with each wrong turn Charlie’s anxiety rose. She hated hospitals. Just the smell of them inspired a deep melancholy in her – a legacy of the many weeks she’d spent in this very hospital, following her abduction three years ago. She should have known the hospital backwards as a result, but every corridor looked the same to her.

She had headed to the fire at Travell’s first, but that had proved to be a waste of time. There had been no eyewitnesses to the start of the blaze, the CCTV had been deactivated some time ago and it was too early for any decent forensics. So, having done a fruitless pass in search of secondary evidence, she’d re-routed to the hospital to check on the Simms family.

As she made her way to the burns unit, Charlie felt her pace slowing. She knew that Karen Simms had died on the operating table and that Alice, the six-year-old, was now fighting for her life. This would always have provoked a strong emotional reaction from Charlie, but she felt it even more keenly now. Ever since Jessica’s birth, she’d been unable to stomach any article or news bulletin that involved children coming to harm. As a copper you had to have a strong stomach and be able to master your emotions, but if she was honest Charlie no longer trusted herself to keep her feelings in check – it was an instinctive and overwhelming reaction for her now.

Pausing outside the entrance to the burns unit, Charlie gave herself a silent talking to. How dare she worry about her own feelings, when this family were in hell? Her job was to help them, not worry about herself.

‘Get a grip, girl,’ Charlie muttered to herself, before opening the doors and stepping inside.

‘DC Charlie Brooks. I’m very sorry for your loss.’

Charlie offered her hand to Thomas Simms, fully aware of the absurdity and pointlessness of the gesture. He looked up and shook her hand before returning his gaze to Alice, who lay beyond the glass in an isolation unit. Her whole body was swathed in surgical bandages and an oxygen mask was secured over her mouth and nose.

‘I can’t believe that’s Alice,’ Thomas said suddenly.

It certainly didn’t look like her. The photos already making their way on to the news and social media sites showed a smiley, fun-loving girl who liked sports and dancing. The mummified figure in front of them bore no relation to that youthful, vibrant spirit.

‘How’s she doing?’

Thomas shrugged.

‘She’s hanging in there. She’s a fighter.’

It was said with a smile but tears now filled his eyes, overcome with the desolation that this shocking night had brought.

‘I hear encouraging things about Luke. The doctors said he should be out of theatre soon – he’s a brave boy,’ Charlie offered.

Thomas nodded, but the smile faded now, as the full cost of the fire made itself felt once more. There was a long silence and Charlie was about to offer Thomas a cup of tea, when he suddenly said:

‘What am I going to tell them? About their mum?’

He looked utterly bereft as he turned to Charlie. Quickly she sat down by him, placing an arm on his shoulder. She wanted to comfort him, to reassure him, but there was no easy solace to give.

‘The truth. That’s all you can do. You have to tell them the truth.’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ he replied bleakly, returning his gaze to his daughter.

Charlie left her arm on his shoulder and thought of what to say next. But in truth there was very little to say. She would help him in any way she could of course, would try and lighten the blow felt by Luke and Alice. But how do you dress up something like this? There is no easy way to tell a child that their mother is dead.

12

It was 4 a.m. when Helen finally got back to her flat. Her clothes stank of smoke and her face was coated with a layer of fine ash. She had never felt so beaten up on the first day of an investigation before. The thought that a family had gone through such an ordeal and that the perpetrator was not even present at the point of their suffering made her feel very uncomfortable indeed. It was such a callous and premeditated crime and suggested a level of anger and cruelty that was hard to countenance. Who would do such a thing? And why?

Stripping off her clothes, Helen hurried to the shower. More than anything now she wanted to get clean, to wash away the traces of the night’s distressing work. The water poured down on her, as she washed her long hair once, twice, three times, but refreshing as it was, she couldn’t shift the anxiety and fatigue that gripped her.


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