Page 67 of Their Burning Graves
She winked at them and began to walk the short distance to the Lawsons’ house.
Because of the fire damage by the front door and in the hall, they had been using the bifold doors at the rear of the house to go in and out. At least until they got the all clear from Fire. The front was smoky and sooty, so at least going in this way saved her boots and clothes from getting all blackened and smelly. The garden was lit up, well placed lights around it including solar lights, fairy lights and lights built into the side of the decking gave it a lovely warm glow. Enough to make sitting out here on a chilly autumn night, in a big woolly jumper, with a mug of hot chocolate, the perfect place to be. Something about this space really spoke to Morgan on some deep level, and she thought it was so sad that the Lawsons could no longer make use of it.
Opening the doors, she stepped inside and for a brief moment was taken back to the night of the murders. She would never forget the first time she set eyes on the Lawsons. It was horrific and also terribly sad. The smell of burned wood lingered in the air, which to Morgan was better than the smell of blood, although she could still smell the underlying coppery tang, but the competing smell of the smoke damage was stronger. The table was still a mess of dried blood that had soaked into the wood. She didn’t look at it, not wanting to see the Lawsons’ slumped bodies staring back at her. As she walked out of the kitchen into the hallway, where the worst of the smoke damage was, her phone beeped. It was a message from Wendy, with a phone number and a fire emoji next to it. She was no fire investigator, but she could tell that the fire had been started in front of the door, blocking anyone from getting out or in. The killer set the fire, then left through the back door, escaping through a gap in the garden hedging and keeping out of sight. Everywhere was still damp from the fire hoses and she wanted to sit down and think about things, but not in here.
Morgan made her way to the outdoor sofa where she sat down, still thinking about the reason for the fire. She dialled the number Wendy had sent her, expecting it to go straight to answerphone and was shocked to hear a voice answer.
‘Evening, Nigel Adams, how can I help?’
‘Hi, Nigel, it’s DC Morgan Brookes. I’m sorry to disturb you so late, but I’m at the Lawsons’ house and wondered if you had any updates. I’m trying to figure out why the killer set the fire in the first place.’
Nigel’s voice was warm and friendly.‘That’s a million-dollar question, isn’t it? I still haven’t finished my official report, Morgan, but there’s a few things I can tell you that might help you make sense of it all.’
‘That would be brilliant and very much appreciated.’
‘Well then, I’ll start at the beginning, the seat of the fire was on the rug at the front door. Arsonists like to choose their target area to make sure it’s in the right place; the point of origin must be in a place that is going to ensure the flames can reach fresh fuel, enabling the spread of flames. I think that whoever set this fire knew enough about fires to make them more than likely a serial arsonist, however they’re not the brightest.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s a relatively new house and new houses are built with all sorts of flame retardant materials. The base of the walls for instance would be a great location for the point of origin because fire spreads fastest across the underside of a ceiling. If this had been an older, terraced house built in the 1950s, the fire would have spread up the wall and across the ceiling, and the house would have been engulfed quickly. However, the plasterboard that covers most new builds suppresses a fire; once the paint and wallpaper have burned off the fire will die rapidly. Which is why the fire was contained mainly by the front door and hallway.’
‘Oh, wow, I had no idea.’
‘There are two ways to look at this, one is that your killer knew this would happen and planned it, so the fire caught the attention of the neighbours who called the fire service, who were able to put it out before it caught hold. Or, they didn’t know the fire would be suppressed so quickly, and it didn’t go to plan. They either wanted the bodies to be found and quickly or they wanted to destroy the evidence.’
‘I kind of came to that conclusion too.’
‘You know, statistically, a lot of arsonists will walk to the scene of the fire; they usually know the area well and live within a two-mile radius. But the problem we have with that is what the fire was used for. Most serial arsonists will target bins, skips, empty buildings, those kinds of things.’
Morgan sighed; this wasn’t helping; she was as confused as before.
‘That’s not what you wanted to hear, was it?’
She laughed. ‘No, I wanted you to be able to tell me which one it was. Thank you for your help though.’
‘Just a thought, Morgan, the majority of arsonists like to return to the scene of the fire to watch it. Did anyone notice if there was someone hanging around who didn’t live on the street?’
‘I knew that, or at least I’d read it in one of my true crime books, but this is the first time I’ve had any experience of arson to this degree. I’ve only dealt with one bin fire, and once when someone didn’t put out one of those disposable barbecues and it got a little out of hand. As for someone loitering in the area there isn’t anyone we’re aware of, the whole street has been canvassed for house-to-house enquiries and no one mentioned anyone weird hanging around.’
‘Then it might be worth looking closer at the neighbours. And I hate to say this because it’s kind of like going against my own, but the fire crew that attended, they won’t have been full-time, they’re retained firefighters. It could be worthwhile sending you a list of the names of the crew that attended for you to check out.’
‘Thank you, that would be great. It would be good to get them ticked off the list. You’ve been very helpful, I appreciate it.’
‘Anytime, sorry I couldn’t be more use. Goodnight, Morgan, and good luck, I’ll email those names over to you in the morning.’
Morgan put her phone away and went back inside the house one last time. Sally thought she was being haunted, what had made her feel that way? Taking out her phone she began to take her own photos of the crime scene to compare with the ones she’d printed out. Making her way from room to room she looked for hiding spaces, opening cupboards and wardrobes to see if anyone could have been in them. There was a large hatch to the attic above the stairs, but it was bolted from the outside. No one could have gone in and out of there, so who was watching Sally, and how?
FORTY-FOUR
Natalie tried to make polite conversation with Ava and Lexie, who gave her one-word answers all the way home, yet were driving her mad constantly whispering into each other’s ears.
‘Girls, I hate to be rude and interrupt your even ruder whispering, but just what the hell is going on? I think I have a right to know why I’ve had to pick you up from the police station, Ava, and why your parents are nowhere to be found.’
‘Mum, don’t be so rude or nosy.’
Natalie glared at her daughter in the rear-view mirror. ‘It’s not being rude, it’s a basic need to know what is going on.’
Ava elbowed Lexie then spoke. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs White, it’s all been a bit horrible to be honest, I don’t really know how to explain it.’
