but surely, Kara got to her feet and tried to register the devastation she’d caused. Reality hit her; she had just burned down Justin’s house.
She heard the fire engine in the distance and knew then that she was in shit up to her neck. It was too late to turn back now though – actions have consequences.
Kara looked around the room. It was soulless, with just the one table, four chairs, and a recording machine for company. She cupped her hands around the hot tea, hoping it would control the shakes. Was it the cold or shock? She didn’t care, either way; all she felt was a deep head-banging numbness.
The chief superintendent marched into the room, with files under her arm, and sat pertly on the chair. Stony-faced and with eyes that were open but glazed over, Kara slowly peered up to see the middle-aged woman, with cold, spiteful eyes and wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, probably from too many cigarettes. With lank, lifeless, and short hair, with a few stands of grey, the policewoman was hardly a looker in the feminine stakes.
Cynthia Lipton, the chief superintendent at Bromley Police Station had been called on to interview the woman because the victim, Jenny Langley, was in the hospital on a life-support machine, and if she died, which was probable, then the person now in custody was looking at an accidental manslaughter charge with arson, which would carry a hefty sentence.
She sharply placed the folder on the table and clicked her pen. Then, having given the young woman the once-over, she concluded fairly quickly from her pale-as-the-moon complexion that Kara Bannon was in shock. This was going to be either like pulling teeth or watching paint dry. She introduced herself and quickly ran through the formalities.
She nodded to the young smartly dressed duty solicitor. ‘Well, are we ready to take a statement?’ she snapped.
Paul Reeves was fresh out of law school and ready to take over at his father’s law firm. Lipton knew he was green around the ears and assumed he would be overly eager to get stuck in. However, she was taken aback when he replied, ‘She wants to give a statement and is not interested in being represented, so I’ll sit in, but to be frank, she’s all yours.’
It wasn’t like him. Lipton frowned. Usually, he was a pain in the arse, meticulous at putting her sort in their place.
‘So, for the recording, please tell me your name, age, and occupation.’
Kara reeled off: ‘Kara Bannon. Twenty-six. Epidemiologist.’
Lipton glanced at Reeves with a questioning expression.
‘It means she studies diseases, how they originate, and how they affect the population,’ responded Reeves, smugly. He loved it when he got one over the police.
Kara remained focused on a tiny spider crawling up the wall just above Lipton’s head. ‘Actually, I am a tropical epidemiologist. I study rare diseases of a class four nature that appear in Third World countries.’
Her well-spoken accent and precise tones stirred unease in Lipton because Kara appeared to be in a trance, yet she was able to answer clearly and precisely. ‘Okay, Miss Bannon, tell me what happened.’
‘I took two cans of petrol from the garage, doused the whole house, and then I set it alight.’
Now, Lipton had to ascertain whether or not Miss Bannon did it alone and whether it was an act of revenge.
‘Miss Bannon, was anyone with you? Were you made to do this? I need to know why you did it?’
Lowering her gaze, she replied, ‘No one told me to do it. I had to burn the house down. I couldn’t let Justin and his new girlfriend move in. It was my home too.’
That was it. Lipton had a reason to charge the young woman with criminal damage, an arson attack, and a possible death by recklessness. She called in the custody sergeant who formerly charged Kara. Still in a stupor, she asked innocently, ‘Is Justin here yet to take me home?’
As the detective looked down at Kara, she realised then that the woman was unaware of the seriousness of what she’d done. Lipton’s mouth formed a smile, but she knew it didn’t reach her eyes. She wasn’t going to question her anymore; she had all she needed to charge and have the defendant remain in custody. As far as the chief superintendent was concerned, she had done her job – it was yet another notch on her arresting record.
* * *
The sergeant took Kara to a cell and placed a thick red blanket around her shoulders. Robert Wise, the custody sergeant, a big middle-aged man, with a salt-and-pepper-coloured moustache and grey hair, felt sorry for the woman. She wasn’t the normal scallywag who came and went. She had class and was polite. He organised another hot tea and a sandwich and brought them to her. ‘You will appear in court first thing tomorrow morning.’
With grief clouding her face, she took the drink and machine-wrapped sandwich.
Kara wondered if there was anyone out there who even cared that she was locked in a police cell. She had no family except Justin and his mother. Her own mother lived abroad now, and their only real communication was the odd phone call. ‘Is it all right for me to go home now?’
Wise gave her a regretful sigh. ‘No, Miss Bannon, I’m afraid you will be held until the court appearance tomorrow, and there, they will decide if they will let you out on bail, but I wouldn’t bank on it. This is a very serious charge over your head … Look, eat that, and try to get some rest.’
As the heavy metal door banged shut and she heard the rattle of keys, the silent cold truth slapped her in the face. This was it now. She was all alone. Not only had she lost her job, she also had to accept her relationship with Justin was over, and now her liberty was at an end. Everything had been destroyed in a single, petulant, and hostile act of revenge. She could not even begin to imagine what her future looked like.
Her hands trembled so much that she dropped the plastic cup, spilling some of the hot tea on her legs. The liquid quickly made its way through her thin tracksuit and burned her shins. She winced and curled herself into a foetal position, holding her knees close to her chest. She tried to sleep, as it was the only way to relieve herself of her haunting thoughts.
* * *
The next day, the door was opened, and the sergeant studied the frail-looking woman curled up like a baby. His heart went out to her. His own daughter wasn’t much older than this young lady. ‘Miss Bannon, do you need the ladies’ room? Are you hungry?’
Kara uncurled herself, temporarily released from the solitude and heavy weight of her sadness. With red-rimmed eyes hosting pools of deep sorrow, she shook her head.
They wasted no time in bundling her into the police van and hurrying her off to the courts. As soon as she arrived, she was sick, and this time there was no warning. Luckily, she missed her clothes but made a mess on the floor. The officer handcuffed to her was almost sick himself and tutted loudly, demonstrating how disgusted he was.
She was then led into the witness box, but she was barely able to comprehend what the judge was saying. The courtroom itself was daunting enough, let alone being there with no one she knew. Urged on by the duty solicitor to answer the questions, she obliged, and within minutes, she was taken away back to the holding room.
It all happened so fast that Kara was not really aware of her surroundings. The only person she hoped to see was Justin – but he wasn’t there. After spending the whole day in the holding cell, she was finally hustled into a sweatbox, as prisoners and prison staff called it, and was off to meet her new home for the foreseeable future.
* * *
Justin sat at the small dining table. Staring down at the spaghetti bolognese his girlfriend had made, he struggled to let the fork pass his lips. He was shocked to the core and his mind was a stifled mix of emotions.
‘Justin, sweetheart, it’s