I have started working on my third book in the Kaila Porter Series. I should soon have a rough draft of the first chapter. Stay tuned.
CHAPTER 1
Barnaby stepped into the dimmed lit restaurant. His steps echoed through the empty room. Barnaby’s breath quickened as he drew closer to his destination. Voice volumes increased and someone shouted. What the hell? Barnaby thought. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea, but no backing out now. Sweat pooled under his armpits and down his back over his fat rolls. As he reached for the doorknob a loud crack froze him in his tracks. The door flew open and Barnaby stumbled backwards, terror filling his body.
“You’re early!” the large man snarled, his eyes looked pure black as he glared at Barnaby.
“I have to go back to work,” Barnaby stuttered.
“Hurry up then.” Scowling, the man held open the door.
Barnaby squeezed through and shuddered as a man’s body was dragged by the legs out of the building. Barnaby tried turning around, but the hulking body behind him pushed forward with a snarl.
“Move it! No stalling.” They reached the dreaded room. Barnaby was pushed in and the door slammed shut. Barnaby wasn’t sure if he’d come out alive.
CHAPTER 2
“I want more money!” the man demanded over the phone in agitation almost dislodging the phone tucked onto his shoulder. “You killed that man, and I should be going to the police.” He’d had time to think about this. With everything he was doing, a little more shouldn’t be an issue.
A low growl came through the line. “Don’t threaten me, you won’t like the outcome.”
A shudder travelled through his body, and he almost caved in. “Half a million deposited in the same account—or you’ll be sorry,” he said, and then slammed the phone down. Feeling giddy as the adrenalin left his large body, he collapsed in the awaiting chair. Tonight, would be soon enough to check his account, and then maybe a trip out of town would be a good idea. Smiling with anticipation, he headed to the kitchen looking for food.
“Hurry up, Peter!” Duncan yelled as he grabbed a pan from under the stove and plopped it down on the surface. He splashed cooking oil in the pan and across the counter before placing the bottle in the cupboard. Turning on the stove, he pulled out a match, lit it, and threw into the pan. Duncan watched until the flames licked the bottom of the cupboards.
“I’m coming,” Peter hollered back from somewhere within the house.
Duncan glanced around and grimaced in disgust. The room was sparsely furnished: a large wooden table and matching chairs; nothing else was in the room. Probably all he could fit in and still move, Duncan thought snidely.
The walls were a cheery yellow, and the white cabinets reflected the street lamps shining through the window. The place reminded him of his grandma who had beaten him almost daily trying to rid him of sin. He grinned. Didn’t seemed to have worked, and he remembered the look of horror on her face when she burned alive. Such a pity, it was too slow of a death for her. Fire was cleansing, and the old bat needed a lot; even still she probably fell a long way down.
He finished with the kitchen and moved onto the living room. Maybe just a bit to ensure the flames continued their path of destruction, Duncan thought. He grabbed the other bottle of oil he had brought and squirted it along the doorframe and the floor into the living room. The firemen would have no clue as the flames would eliminate the oil, leaving no residue. Growing up, Duncan learned everything he could about fire, appreciating the devastation it left. He also found it a living thing of beauty. Where in the hell was Peter? He only had one job. Just then, the figure of his ire ambled in like he was on vacation.
Peter was pretty new to the crew, and his allegiance was in question. A black t-shirt covered Peter’s slim frame, and tattoos peaked out from under both sleeves. Duncan knew that looks were deceiving; Peter was quick and strong, using any dirty trick in the book in order to win. Peter’s brown eyes seemed to be laughing at Duncan as he drew closer, and Duncan tried not to snarl.
“Where the hell were you?” Duncan demanded.
“Just having a little bit of fun.” Peter grinned.
“Where’s the body?”
“I left him in the bedroom.”
“Well, bring him in the living room, we want to make sure he burns.”
“Fine, fine,” Peter grumbled. “Come and help, he must weigh a ton.”
“Gimme a minute to finish this. Did you make sure all the doors were secure?”
“Yes. Hurry up! I want to disappear before we’re spotted.”
“Now you’re in a rush.” Duncan dropped the bottle of oil and followed Peter to the bedroom in the back of the house. When they entered, Duncan spotted the large body collapsed on the floor and frowned.
“You grab his arms and I’ll take the legs,” Duncan commanded.
“How come you get the easier part?”
“Because I would have drugged him in the living room so we didn’t have to carry the body, you moron.”
Groaning, Peter heaved the man beneath his sweat stained armpits. “We’re doing this guy a favour,” Peter said as they lugged him towards his impending doom.
“You made sure of the correct dosage, right?” Duncan questioned as he let Peter almost drag the body down the dark hallway. The flames were already engulfing the kitchen and, at any time, would spread to their location.
“I’m not an idiot. I took into account all his fat.”
“Good. We don’t want him trying to escape, but at least the doors are barred. What about the injection site, was it between the toes?” Duncan gazed at Peter for confirmation.
“Quit questioning me. It’s not my first rodeo. I already said I did,” Peter snarled.
Duncan kept quiet as they dropped the man and rolled him over onto his stomach by the couch. Usually Peter was easygoing, but when he became angry, you’d better watch out. That guy had an explosive temper and let his fists do the talking. The last guy who worked for the boss ended up on the wrong side of Peter and ate through a straw for an extended period of time. Duncan peeked through the thin striped curtains and cursed the shining through. Hopefully, no one would see them leaving. He glanced back, Peter, a grin playing on his lips, gave a couple of kicks to the prone form. Duncan sighed and motioned him to follow to the back door. Bending down for the oil, they both stopped again to gaze at the crackling flames engulfing the kitchen. The smell of burning chemicals permeated the air as furniture and painted walls blistered and scorched. Duncan shook his head and rushed out, with Peter close behind. They jammed the nail at the top of the door and booted across the yard into the back alley. From their position, smoke and flames were just becoming noticeable.
“That’s a beautiful sight,” Peter said with a sigh as he watched.
“Come on, we can monitor from a safer distance,” Duncan whispered, dragging Peter along as his heart kept beat with their feet.
Keeping low and to the shadows, they ran the couple of blocks to their waiting car. Once safely inside, they ripped off their gloves, grinned and laughed with excitement. The whole escape had taken less than ten minutes. Staring in the direction of the house Duncan spotted a red burst of colour.
“Are you letting the boss know?” Peter demanded.
“Yeah, yeah. I think we should be good now.” Duncan texted a quick message before he started the car and began driving towards the light. A siren wailed in the distance and he grimaced. Damn, hopefully they wouldn’t make it in time to save the bastard, he thought. Neighbours were scattered along the street, staring in wonder at the burning house.
The first engine truck squealed to a stop and Norman Fast jumped out, yelling the task assignments as the second truck appeared. They needed search and rescue fighters entering immediately while the fire attack sector tried containing the flames before all the surrounding houses caught on fire.
“We have a Type 5, wood-frame construction house fully involved. Sending two men in,” Norman told dispatch as the other engine officer ran up with a pad and pen.
Norman watched as the men from the second engine sprinted to the closest hydrant with their hose streaming behind. The senior hose man and his second headed to the front door. They only had minutes before the fire grew too large to contain. Firefighting nowadays wasn’t like years ago. Synthetic materials woven into everything, from the drapes to the carpets. What took twenty minutes to grow into a large fire before, now took two minutes. They didn’t have much of a chance.
A shiver crawled up Norman’s spine despite the heat emanating towards him. would be waiting for them; he just didn’t know what. His anxiety increased as it became apparent the door wasn’t going to cooperate. The firefighters had to use their forcible-entry tools and, once they broke through, the two men seized the hose and cautiously entered.
Before Norman did a quick three hundred and sixty-degree assessment around the house, scrutinizing for exits or good ventilation points, he called in a second alarm to dispatch. The bright yellow and orange flames were already rolling. At the back of the house, flames licked out the door, meeting the winds waiting to carry them towards the neighbours. “Something protruded from the top of the doorframe, .
The ladder crew had arrived and were pulling out the fans as Norman rounded the corner. Two other engines and the ambulance crowded the narrow streets in front, blocking the view from all the curious onlookers. There was one nervous, older gentleman with a tiny dog standing off to the side of Norman’s engine truck. Must be the witness who called it in, Norman thought. Dispatch would have told him to wait there for someone to question him. Before approaching, Norman ensured that the other fire attack crews were
Static crackled and a voice came through: “We have a body in the living room.” Norman’s stomach plummeted as he glanced at the time. The hose stopped moving and seconds later the two firemen struggled through the doorway with a large body. Thick, inky smoke followed the men out, filling the entrance. Paramedics rushed forward to help the firefighters, and the ladder crew gathered up the fans.
“All crews out and try ventilation! Immediate building flashover. Sit until we mitigate the situation before anyone else enters. Chance of survivability is zero,” Norman yelled over the noise as the fans were set in front of the door. He watched the black smoke crawled up the house and , joining the other flames trying to escape. Even with their bunker gear on, the firefighters would only survive for five seconds during a flashover; if there was anyone else inside, they had no chance.
Norman approached the thin, shaking witness and asked, “Sir, were you the one who called in the fire?”
“Yes,” he squeaked.
“Do you know the residents?”
“Not well. I live a few houses down,” he said, pointing down the street.
“How many people lived here?”
“Only Barnaby. I’ve never seen anyone else. He may have visitors, but they never stayed long.”
Norman was glad for nosy neighbours and felt a spark of hope that no other bodies were left burning inside.
Duncan and Peter left the safety of their car and slowly inched closer to the burning house.
“This is close enough,” Duncan whispered.
“We need to get closer to see.”
“Someone might realize we’re not from around here and say something.”
“Not likely.” Peter snorted. “People driving by stop all the time. Quit worrying. I want to make sure the deed is done.”
They watched as two firefighters carried out the body.
“Crap!” Peter snarled. “We already let the boss know he was dead.”
“Don’t worry. If you gave the right dosage, even if he woke up, I’m sure the smoke got him. Even from here, he appears a little black. No way he’s talking.”
“Fine. Let’s get out of here; you get to do the explaining.”
Hours passed before Norman could say the fire was under control and allow the three crews back into the house. The primary search still had to be completed and they needed to ensure the fire was out and didn’t rekindle. Norman now had time to secure the scene and call in the police. The paramedics hadn’t been able to save Barnaby.
