In a flash, he had finished his recording and stowed the camera back in his rucksack. Now he was walking away at pace. He half expected her to cry out, to call him back, but no cry came.
He had been stupid to linger. Excited as he was, he must learn to be disciplined—to take what he needed and no more. If he was lucky he would be able to return tomorrow to garner some souvenirs, but for now he had other things to do. The Roberts house fire would probably be extinguished soon and he’d have to move quickly if he didn’t want to miss it. Checking once more that he had escaped undetected, he pulled his hood up onto his head and disappeared into the night.
40
He stared at the floor, refusing to look at her. Helen was well aware that she had just shattered this poor boy’s world, but she’d had no choice. She owed him the truth. When the firefighters had finally worked their way up to the second floor of the Roberts residence, they’d found a woman’s body in the main bedroom. She was curled up in the classic pugilist pose you so often see with fire victims. Oddly she was found plumb in the middle of the room, seemingly having made no concerted move toward the windows or the door. There was precious little else Helen could pass on at the moment—Deborah Parks would have to wait until the site cooled before she could do her work. They hadn’t even managed to formally ID the body yet—that would happen later—but it seemed highly unlikely that another, unknown female had made her way into Denise’s bedroom and perished in the blaze. It looked for all the world like Callum’s mum was the arsonist’s second victim.
They were holed up together in a relatives’ room at SouthamptonCentral Police Station. It hadn’t taken long for the press to gather outside the burning house and they soon zeroed in on Helen and the weeping boy, hoping for a photo and some good copy. Helen had bustled Callum to the nearest police vehicle and got him back to base safe and sound. He obviously couldn’t go home and, until they unearthed some friends or relatives to take him, it was down to Helen and her colleagues at Hampshire Social Services to ensure that he was okay.
A cup of tea and a Wagon Wheel sat untouched on the table. Callum had barely said a word since they got here, resisting the overtures of both Helen and the Family Liaison officer she’d tasked with babysitting him. Helen would have to return to operational duties—there was much to do now—and she didn’t want Callum palmed off on a total stranger once she did.
The young man stared at his feet, occasionally biting his nails in aggressive little bursts. He was clearly still trying to process the awful events of the last few hours, and this made it all the harder for Helen to have to probe him for information now, but she had no alternative. Two devastating attacks on consecutive nights. Two people dead. Several more injured. Hundreds of thousands of pounds’ worth of damage to property and possessions. And still not a single eyewitness to point them toward the perpetrator. Gary Spence had been in police custody when the second set of fires began. True, he had associates to do his bidding, but surely he wouldn’t be so foolish as to carry out more attacks when the police spotlight was so firmly on him?
“You said your mother had company tonight, Callum. Can you tell me who that might have been?”
The boy flinched slightly but said nothing.
“Callum?” Helen continued gently. “I know you don’t want to talk right now, but we really need your help. I want to find out what happened, so anything you can tell me—”
“Darren something. I don’t know his surname,” he said abruptly.
“Was he your mum’s boyfriend?”
“Just someone who comes round now and again.”
“She didn’t have a long-term partner.”
“No.”
“So you just got out of the house?”
Callum nodded.
“Where did you go?”
“To Dave’s—I’ve told you. Dave Spalding, right? Lives in the Lynwood flats?”
“What time did you go there?”
“Around four p.m.?”
“And you stayed there until you noticed the fire? Around midnight?”
Callum nodded.
“And someone can vouch for your presence there for all that time?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I have to ask these questions, Callum.”
Helen’s tone was gentle but firm and Callum quickly backed down, shrugging as he replied:
“Dave was there and a few others. You can ask them.”
Helen nodded and jotted a note to herself to do just that. “What about your father? Where’s he at the moment?”
A long, heavy silence ensued.
