Woman, 29, dies in suspicious house fire
Film loaded, she let her thoughts carry her back to her laptop, to the headline she’d found from the small local newspaper. Something in Beth’s gut told her that this was the Joanne Rowles she was searching for, that the woman who had been engulfed by a flurry of flames was somehow connected to the list. Their close ages. The nearby location. It might all just be a coincidence. But then … what if it wasn’t? She needed to know more, to find out for certain if this Joanne Rowles was the one at the top of her list.
Bridgnorth. It wasn’t far. Her late grandfather would have described it as being an hour away, as the crow flies.
Thinking about her grandfather made Beth wilt. She could feel the energy seeping out of her arms, making her movements leaden. She’d only ever known him as an old man with a spritely wit. He’d had the heartiest laugh she’d ever heard, no family celebration was complete without him chuckling away at the head of the table. What would he say if he could see her now?
The projection room suddenly felt too small. With the film set up, Beth left eagerly, but she kept her steps along the corridor to her next destination slow. She looked at the film posters mounted along the walls which glowed in the dim light. So many stories, so many adventures. Beth wondered what the tag line for her own film would be. Or her own death.
Woman, 29, dies in suspicious house fire
Ultimately will we all be reduced to just one sentence? To a spattering of words upon a neglected headstone? What would Beth Belmont’s read?
She stopped before a poster for a period romance movie. The lead characters were held in a loving embrace as, behind them, spitfire aeroplanes filled a sky coloured blood red by sunset. The tag line promised romance, adventure and heartbreak. Beth stared at the words, wondering what her story could boast.
Woman, 29, dies in suspicious house fire
What was suspicious about Joanne Rowles’ death? And how could she be connected to Beth? She knew that she had to find out. The list was pointing her in a direction, guiding her. And though she hated bending to the will of others, Beth felt compelled to follow, her own curiosity too great to ignore. And Joanne’s was only the first name on the list. But it was a place to start, a lead to follow. Maybe learning more about Joanne would shed some light about the other names on the list. About Beth’s own name being on there.
Seven
Someone was screaming, the sound torn from them like flesh from bone. Pitched with panic, it punctured the night air. A desperate, haunting sound. Their screams carried through the thick shadows, growing in fervour.
There was fire. Ribbons of flame swept up from the floor, jumped up against the curtains, the bedcovers. Smoke was everywhere, clotting and consuming. Beth coughed. She breathed in the ash, the heat, felt it burn down to her belly. She coughed again.
The heat was unbearable. The sheets beneath her were scorching, devoured by the fire. A flame spat close by, pricked her skin. Beth opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Instead, she choked on the smoke, feeling it curl its way down vital passages. Gasping, she blinked, eyes stinging. The house was on fire and she was still in it, about to be burned alive.
She drew in a final, ragged breath and the screaming stopped. Beth’s eyes snapped open and the sudden darkness she found herself in was jarring.
‘What the…?’ Sheets clutched to her chest, she looked around. There were no tendrils of flames trying to claim her bed. All was dark. All was quiet. ‘Shit.’ Releasing a sheet, she pressed a hand to her temple. Here, the heat of the nightmare still lingered, her skin almost scalding to the touch. Snapping back her hand, she glanced at the other side of the bed, at the sleeping mound that was Josh. His chest rose and fell steadily. Clearly this was one nightmare which had not disturbed his slumber.
Quietly, Beth lowered her bare feet to the floor and tiptoed out of the room. The door gave a soft whine as it opened, but still Josh didn’t stir. Out on the small landing, shadows clustered around her, dark and foreboding, so thick they seemed almost viscous, like oil. Reaching the staircase, Beth flicked on a light, illuminating her way.
Everything within her neat house was so eerily still, like the building was holding its breath in anticipation of something big. The absence of sound was unsettling. When Beth reached the kitchen, she was relieved to hear the distant hoot of an owl. At least she wasn’t completely alone at this early hour.
She knew that she should sleep. She should creep back up the stairs, climb back into bed and curl up against Josh. But the nightmare had been so vivid. And there was now a new addition to the usual screaming soundtrack: fire.
Joanne Rowles.
Joanne who had died in a fire. The circumstances of her death both haunted and intrigued Beth. Like a moth lured to a flame, she wanted to know more. This woman was her age. Beth could have passed her in the street and never known, and now she was gone … just a headline in some local paper. Joanne’s death was starting to feel as mysterious as the list.
Beth thought of the stranger’s name with every careful step she took towards the lounge and her laptop. She tried to move with as much stealth as she could muster, acting like a burglar in her own home.
You’re fixating.
Beth berated herself for letting Josh get in her head. Because that would be his assumption. The list … Joanne … she was just tumbling down a rabbit hole head first without any clear reason. But there was a reason. She and Joanne were connected. Beth had the piece of paper to prove it.
With the lights on, the lounge felt more welcoming than the rest of the house. The curtains were tightly drawn, concealing the darkness that lingered outside. Beth dropped onto the sofa and reached for her computer.
It felt mischievous to be awake, to be prowling around while the rest of the world slept. Like when she was a child and she’d steal her way downstairs after midnight for an illicit spoonful of ice cream. Back then, she didn’t have to worry about waking her mother, who would be out until morning. Her siblings would also be unreachable until their alarm clocks shrieked in their ears come six in the morning. She had two older brothers, each equally wayward. When Beth had started junior school, Robert had been suspended from the local secondary for selling weed on the premises. Richard, newly seventeen, had been caught drinking and driving the weekend before Christmas. Drama was never in short supply back then.
Beth ignored the pang in her chest when she thought about her brothers. They had their own lives now, children and families.
The list drifted back up to the surface of her thoughts. Yes, she needed to focus on the list. With the click of a button, she called up the article she’d been reading when Josh came home.
WOMAN, 29, DIES IN SUSPICIOUS HOUSE FIRE
She read on.
Joanne Rowles, 29, of Furbridge Lane, Bridgnorth, died in the early hours of this morning after a fire started in her home shortly after 2 a.m. Neighbours called local rescue services about the blaze, but when they arrived at the scene, the fire had claimed the majority of the first floor. Joanne was reported as dead at the scene from smoke inhalation. She was home alone at the time of the fire.
The cause of the fire is being treated as suspicious, with the fire department citing signs of arson at the scene. A more thorough investigation is being carried out.
Beth’s gaze slid over to the small digital clock in the lower right-hand corner of the screen: 2.10 a.m. The heat that lingered in her skin had quickly dissipated, causing her exposed arms to bristle uncomfortably.