Winter sucks, right?
What else is there to say?
Okay, there is more. Let me try to explain it to you.
Everybody moans. As soon as the Christmas decorations appear in the shops, everybody starts whining: about the cold, how it gets dark early, about snow, about their relations, about their relationships, about how they fucking hate Christmas. But they’re lying. They love it. Otherwise they’d have nothing else to talk about, nothing else todo. It’s just an act—as predictable as it is false. They have no idea what winter really means. To people like me.
Imagine you’re standing on the beach, watching a hugeblack cloud coming toward you. It’s the darkest cloud you’ve ever seen—it’s huge—and it’s heading your way. It won’t rush—it wants you to know it’s coming, to anticipate its horror—but it’s moving. Inch by inch, mile by mile—it’s coming foryou.
You feel the sun disappear as the storm blocks it out. Soon afterward you feel the first flecks of rain, as the wind rises, whipping you again and again. Now you’re cold, really, really cold. It feels like... it feels like all the nice, kind, warm things in the world have been lost forever. Now the cloud moves over you, surrounding you, stealing you. There’s no way out of it now. Even if you wanted to run you wouldn’t know which direction to go in. You are powerless. Unable to move. So you sit there. Doing nothing. Hoping for nothing.
It clings to you now, denying you light, hope, warmth. Day after day after day. But you never get used to it. Night and day—it’s hard to tell one from the other. Existence seems to stretch out far in front of you—long and pointless. You want to kill yourself but somehow can’t muster the energy. You are lost forever, wandering around and around but always ending up at the same point. And there’s no one with you here, no one to guide you to safety. You are all alone. YOU ARE LOST.
THAT’S what winter feels like to me.
But this one is different. A good deal worse and a whole lot better. This year I am taking control of the situation—and the angels are on my side. I saw what people said online about the fire at Millbrook—they said it was hideous, ugly, an abomination. But not to me. I thought it was beautiful.
14
“Everyone’s here now, so let’s begin.”
It was only eight a.m., but already the incident room was packed. Crime scene photos from the three fire sites adorned the walls, and data officers were logging and labeling the many hours of footage—both police and amateur—that had been taken from last night’s incidents. Nearly everybody present had been up half the night, yet they had all assembled punctually, as Helen had requested.
“I don’t have any detailed forensics for you yet,” Helen continued, “but we are treating all three fires as arson. There was a strong smell of paraffin on the ground floor of the Simms house and at the timber yard. Both Thomas Simms and Dominic Travell have confirmed there was no paraffin stored on-site. Presuming the same is true at Bertrand’s Antiques Emporium, we can assume that all three fires were started deliberately by a person or persons unknown. CCTV was deactivated at Travell’s, Bertrand’s didn’t have any and of course there wasn’t any at the domesticproperty in Millbrook. We’ll see if street cameras picked up anything, but it’s likely to have been busy at that time—it was kicking-out time from the pubs. The fires were extremely fierce and extensive, so it’s very likely that any on-site traces of the perpetrator—DNA, hairs, fibers—were destroyed. Plus, the ground outside was frosty and hard, so we weren’t able to find any obvious tire tracks or footprints. Which means... we’re going to have to rely on some old-fashioned detective work. I’ll pull in as many uniformed officers as I can, as we’ll need to be knocking on doors, seeing if anyone saw anything out of the ordinary, anything suspicious. DC Edwards, are you okay to coordinate this for me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Anything comes up, feed it straight back in. Someone set three major fires last night and got away with it. They might be shocked by Karen Simms’s death or they might be feeling empowered and excited. I want whoever it is to know that we’re tearing the city apart, looking for them. So be visible, make some noise.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“DC Lucas, I’d like you to handle the PNC checks. See if any local arsonists have been active recently.”
“On it.”
Helen put her file down and addressed the whole team.
“Arson. What are the possible motives?” she asked.
“To cover up a crime?” Charlie offered.
“Good. Anything else?”
“Property crime. To claim on the insurance,” DC Edwards offered.
“What else?”
“Revenge. On a former partner or an unfaithful spouse.”
“For the thrill of the fire itself?” Sanderson pitched in.
“Fire gives some people a sexual charge, a feeling of being in control. So we have to put pyromania on the list,” Helen added.
“What if it’s something to do with the city itself? Someone who feels let down in some way? By the people or the place?”
Helen nodded, but before she could reply DC McAndrew jumped in.
“Could there be a financial motive? Two businesses were hit. Plus, Thomas Simms runs an import/export business. Might that be a connection?”
