Then
It was very early in the morning when Regan Armitage reached his home. Inside he could clearly hear his father talking to someone; maybe shouting was more accurate. Regan had hoped to creep in unnoticed and slip into bed while everyone was asleep. His foot was on the bottom step of the stairs when he caught the words “fire” and “deaths”. A shudder ran through him.
He opened the door to his father’s office. A lamp spilled out a circle of light. His father, in dressing gown and pyjamas, was standing behind his desk, head down, revealing a developing bald patch, talking on his phone. His free hand was curled into a fist, the knuckles pressing into the wood.
“Okay, see that you do,” said Jake. “This is going to cause a whole load of shit for me.” He finished the call, dropped the mobile onto the desk. Regan stared at his father until the older man realised he wasn’t alone. He glanced at Regan before his eyes returned to the telephone.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jake asked; no strength in his words. “You should be in bed.” He sagged into a chair. His face was drawn and pale.
“It was me,” Regan said.
Jake leant over and grabbed a glass and a bottle. He poured himself a drink, took a mouthful, and swallowed. “What was?”
“The fire. I did it.”
“This is no joke, son.”
“I’m telling the truth.” Regan shrugged the backpack off and unzipped it. He pulled out the petrol can and held it towards his father.
Jake slowly put the glass down and rose, as if seeing Regan clearly now. Jake walked over, took the can, sniffed it. A little petrol sloshed around in the bottom. Jake dropped the can and grabbed Regan by the shoulders, his fingers digging in. “Tell me everything,” he said.
“I heard you saying you wanted rid of the old bat so you could start work on a new project. I thought I’d help things along.”
“By setting fire to her house?”
Regan nodded. “It was the best I could do.”
“Oh my God.” Jake let go of Regan, turned away, and tugged at his hair as if he were going to rip it out. He swung back to Regan. “Do you know what you’ve done? There were people still inside the building!”
“I tried to ring the fire brigade, but the phone was broken.”
“A family burned to death!”
“Nobody saw me.”
“If this comes out, I’ll be ruined. You’ll end up in prison, Regan!”
“I’ve got away with it.”
“Not yet, you haven’t. There’ll be an investigation.” Jake returned to his desk, poured himself another drink, and swallowed it in one. “Are you sure you weren’t seen?”
Regan nodded. “There was a girl, but I stayed in the shadows until she’d gone.”
“Okay, maybe this can be dealt with.” Jake picked up his mobile again and made a call.
***
Jake was still drinking when Jeff Carslake arrived. Regan could smell the smoke from the fire on Carslake’s clothes. He shuddered again. With the office door closed, Carslake asked Regan to repeat his story, word for word.
When Regan was done, Carslake said, “Yes, we can fix this.” Carslake took the backpack, said he’d dispose of it. “One of the firemen at the scene said he suspected it was arson. There’s no chance of hiding that aspect.”
“What are you suggesting then?” asked Jake.
“I’ll probably just fit someone else up for it. There’s a couple of fire starters that I could point the finger at, though an accident would be better.”
“Whatever it takes, whatever it costs to keep Regan out of jail, just do it.”