Allegiance (Twisted Book 4) Read online

  I couldn’t hold in the tears, no matter how hard I tried. They rolled down my cheeks as I sat alone on the driveway with my finger plugging the wound, watching my house burn to the ground with my family inside.

  I called to them, my breath growing weaker with each inhale of smoke and carbon dioxide, but no one answered. They were gone. They were all gone.

  Blue lights flashed in the distance and brought the sirens with them. They cut through the sound of crackling wood as the thunderous fire ruined the silence of the surrounding coastal countryside.

  I kept my eyes open, refusing to even blink as my eyes burned. The tears fell. I knew my family had been torn from me forever. I felt it. They were gone.

  “Jesse?”

  I heard someone calling my name and jumped. AJ wouldn’t miss a shot to the head if he was standing as close as where the voice came from. I’d lost blood, I knew my body was going into shock and my lungs had been poisoned by the smoke, my blood intoxicated with the pain of my brother’s betrayal, but I’d fight him off. I wouldn’t let him kill me. I clenched my fists and brought them up as I scrambled to my feet. I wouldn’t let him take me without a fight.

  “Jesse?” the voice said again. Two hands touched my fists but I pushed them off. “Jesse, can you hear me?”

  My eyes were open, I was conscious, and it was only then that I saw the green uniform of the paramedic.

  I looked around, dropping my fists as I took in the chaos around me. Fire engines with their ladders erected and too many heads to count; firefighters, paramedics, police. The driveway was filled with people battling a fire that had already done its damage.

  “I’ve been shot,” I said, looking past the paramedic to see two coppers waiting by the doors of the ambulance. “Are they waiting for me?”

  “Can you walk?”

  He attempted to aid my short journey to the ambulance with a hand on my back, but I shrugged him off, clutched my arm and walked there myself.

  “I didn’t do this,” I said to the policemen whose expressions were painted with suspicion and climbed in the back of the van.

  Two

  I woke up in a hospital bed. I’d never been on this side of the medical line before, dressed in a stiff gown and staring up at the ceiling. I remembered the journey here in the back of the ambulance with a police escort. I remembered the oxygen mask; I didn’t know they were that tight. And I remembered thinking of my family as we drove away from the house.

  They were dead.

  Gone.

  I’d never see them again. I’d never get to say goodbye. AJ killed our family. I knew it.

  I had to get out.

  I swung my legs off the bed and my feet hit the cold tiled floor. Pain shot through my strapped up arm, my lungs tightened and protested as I sucked in a deep breath and as I tried to stand. My left wrist caught on something and pulled me back down. Handcuffs. I’d been cuffed to the fucking bed. They thought I’d done this. They thought I’d killed my family and they’d tied me down like a rabid dog to keep me from running. I wanted to find the murderer as much as they did, only I knew it wasn’t me.

  “Mr. Kennedy,” a male voice said, tearing the curtains open and exposing my imprisonment to the rest of the ward.

  “It’s Doctor Kennedy.”

  “My apologies, Doctor. How are you feeling?”

  “Like someone shot me and burned my house to the ground.”

  He cleared his throat to disguise an awkward laugh.

  “Everything looks good,” he mused, flipping through the sheets.

  “Not from here it doesn’t. When can I get this over with?” I nodded towards the two fluorescent-vested police standing at the door of the ward.

  “We want to keep you in overnight. The wound on your arm is a graze, but your shoulder is a through and through. We’ll wait for the swelling to go down. You were lucky the bullet dodged bone, but we’re not sure if there’s any nerve or muscular damage.”

  “There isn’t.”

  “Jesse-”

  “I know my body. I fix them for a living. I’m telling you, I’m fine.” He cocked a sceptical eyebrow. “It’s almost time to take another anti-inflammatory, right?” This time his eyebrows dropped to convey his confusion. “Arthritis or a recovering sports injury? I noticed it the second you walked in here.”

  “Rugby.”

  “Alas, my point is proven. Where are my clothes?”

  “I’ll get your discharge papers ready.”

  Ignoring my question, he turned and left, stopping by the vested goofs outside, no doubt to let them know I was awake. They looked in my direction; I resisted the urge to raise my hand and gesture for them to bring it. Instead, I pointed to the cuffed wrist behind my back.

  “Where are my clothes?” I repeated when they walked in and one tossed a pair of scrubs on the bed. The other unlocked the handcuffs and allowed me to stretch out my one functional arm.

  “Your clothes have been retained as evidence, Dr Kennedy,” the female officer said. “Are you sure you’re well enough to leave?”

  “Yes.” I peered down the neck of the gown. I was completely naked. “Someone set my house on fire. I can’t sit here in a hospital.” I snatched the scrubs. “But I could use a little privacy.”

  “Jesse, you’re going to have to come to the station and make a statement,” the male officer said as they edged towards the threshold of my area.

  “At least you’re not arresting me.”

  “Yet.”

  When they’d stepped outside and pulled the curtain around my bed, I dropped my head in my hands and prayed this was one of AJ’s pranks designed to make my life hell.

  Because I had a feeling things were going to get a lot worse…

  **

  “I need to make a call.”

  The detective sitting opposite me narrowed his eyes. I was lost, confused and overwhelmed by what was going on. I was just about keeping it together.

  “No phone calls,” his partner seethed.

  They had the good cop bad cop down to a t.

  “We can take a break. Come with me.”

  I nodded in thanks and expected to follow him to the phone I’d seen on the wall outside the room. Instead he led me to the courtyard and handed me my phone.

  “Five minutes, Jesse,” he said, ignoring my confusion and closed the door behind him when he stepped back inside.

  The rain had begun to fall on the way from the hospital and I’d watched the storm move closer. I couldn’t help thinking things wouldn’t have been half as bad if it wasn’t Christmas and the sun was shining. But was there ever a good time to lose everything?

  My sanity was slipping and there was only one person I could call.

  “Your mother let you out of her grasp early?” Curtis asked when he answered the phone.

  I lost it then. The shock moved in and took over. My mother, the woman who gave birth to me and raised me, supporting me despite the abuse from AJ and the pressure from my father, was dead. Dead. I knew what it meant in physical terms, but the impact it would have on me was about to hit. I could feel it coming.

  “Jesse? You okay?”

  “Dead.”

  Dead.

  “What’s dead? Did your car break down?”

  “Dead.” Bright orange flames filled my vision. “Fire…gone. It’s gone.”

  “What’s gone?”

  My vision changed again and I saw the sun. We were sitting in the garden, my mother, Amy, and me.

  “House. It’s gone. Dead.”

  It was cold and I was shivering, but the sun was shining over the garden and the waves crashed against the cliffs in the distance. My skin tingled as it tanned and my mother’s eyes sparkled in the summer warmth.

  “Jesse, calm down and talk to me. What happened?” Curtis was panicking. I felt guilty for making him panic while I was in the garden relaxing. “Where are you?”

  “Ashes. Smoke. It’s gone.”

  The house behind my mother began to bur
n, quickly erupting into flames that spread instantly and began seeping onto the grass like spilled oil. Ash began to fall into our glasses of wine. My mother’s face darkened with soot. And fear. But still she smiled and reached for her glass. It smashed in her hand but she brought it to her lips and drank from the jagged edge. Smoke began to leak from her nose and mouth.

  “There was a fire? Where? Are you hurt?”

  “No!”

  The perfect day in the garden was disappearing in front of me. The table was next to burn; it engulfed my mother in flames and Amy reached out to take my hand. Her eyes were red, starved of oxygen, and the flames were spreading up her golden hair until each strand singed like fiery threads.

  “Tell me where you are. I’ll come and help you.”

  “No! Stay away!”

  I threw one hand out, trying to pull Amy from the flames, but I knew it was too late. I couldn’t save either of them as they sat on the garden chairs and the fire smothered them. Their faces began to melt, skin dripping from bone like candle wax and trickling between the cracks in the table. Both pairs of eyes were fixed on me.

  “The house is gone. Burned down.” I said as it fell into itself behind my mother and Amy’s bodies. A sudden cloud of toxic smoke surrounded us. “My family…” I coughed and searched for the girls. “They were in there.”

  I couldn’t find them. They were gone.

  “Have you called for help? Tell me where you are.”

  Curtis wanted to help, but he couldn’t. I was alone and my family were dead.

  “Lights.” I could see lights in the distance. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realised I was in an alternate reality, my mind conjuring up the images of my family’s final moments. But the lights were real. “People. People are trying to help.”

  “That’s good. Let them help. Don’t go into the house.”

  It was too late. Why did Curtis not understand it was too late?

  “It’s gone.”

  “The fire?”

  “The house!” I tore at my hair. Why did he not understand? Why could he not see what I saw? “Rubble and ash and bodies.”

  “Your family? Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” I covered my mouth with my hand as the physical pain of the images before me tried to tear from my stomach. “They’re gone. Dead.”

  “I’m coming to find you. Tell me where you are. Are you hurt?”

  Yes.

  “No. I have to go.”

  The door of the courtyard opened and the detective stood in the doorway.

  “Jesse, no!” I didn’t want to hang up, but I was already walking towards the door. “Don’t hang up on me.”

  I wanted Curtis to help me, but it was too late. It was over. I was alone.

  “Dead. Gone. Fire. Have to go. Have to…”

  I dropped my arm, disconnected the call, and stepped back into the station.

  **

  I clasped my hands together and stared at the plastic cup of water in front of me, as John, the detective and ‘good cop’, read from a sheet of paper in front of him and began the interview.

  “Can you confirm your full name, please.”

  “Jesse Arthur Kennedy.”

  “Of Apartment 2B, Foxhill Drive, Oxford?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s your occupation?”

  “I’m a surgeon at John Radcliffe Hospital.”

  “Can you tell us where you were between midnight on December 24th and six pm on December 25th.”

  “I worked until the early hours of the morning of Christmas Day, went home and slept. I slept in late and missed Christmas morning with my family so I drove to the house as soon as I could.”

  “Can anyone confirm this?”

  I hesitated. Kerry could confirm my whereabouts, but I found myself shaking my head.

  “No.”

  “What time did you arrive at the house, Jesse?”

  “I don’t know. Six thirty, maybe. It was already dark.” John stared at me. I stared at him. “I didn’t do this.”

  “I didn’t ask if you did.”

  “You think I did it.”

  “Do I?” He chewed on his top lip and kept his eyes on me. His partner stared at me, too. They were waiting for a confession.

  “Yes. Witness becomes suspect becomes criminal because it makes your job easier.”

  He blinked once, shocked, and looked back down at his paper.

  “What happened when you arrived at the house?”

  “It was on fucking fire.” My eyes widened and I shook my head. He really thought I’d explain how I’d set my house alight. The justice system was fucked. “I tried to get into the house, but I knew I’d do more damage than good.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Because I went to school. A fire needs oxygen to thrive. If I’d have gone in, I would have fed it. I stayed back and called for help.”

  “And then what?”

  “The house was burning. I was talking to the woman on the phone and then someone shot me.” He nodded slowly, taking notes. “It was my brother. AJ did this and you’re wasting your time interviewing me instead of looking for him.”

  “Your brother is heir to your father’s company, is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And not you?”

  “No. I don’t want it.”

  The other detective sat forward and placed her cup of coffee on the desk.

  “I have a theory. I think you want the company. I think you may have gone to the house, maybe had a drink or two and, let’s say, things got out of hand.”

  “I’ve given blood so you’ll know I wasn’t drinking,” I snapped. “And I shot myself?” She shrugged. “I didn’t. Swab my hands for gunshot residue or something. I had nothing to do with this.”

  “This isn’t an episode of CSI,” she scoffed.

  “Five bodies were recovered from the house, Jesse,” the other one said, whipping my thoughts into instant chaos.

  I stood up, knocking the chair back.

  “What?”

  “Five people died in your house.”

  “That’s impossible.” My back hit the wall and I slid to the floor. “I know I saw AJ.”

  I heard footsteps approach me.

  “Jesse Arthur Kennedy, I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder and arson. You do not have to say anything…”

  I panicked, thrashing and lashing out as I was pulled to my feet and my hands were cuffed behind my back.

  “I didn’t do this,” I cried. “I didn’t do this!”

  **

  At that point, my life couldn’t have got any worse. I’d lost everything; my entire family and my freedom. I spent the night in one of five cells in an old small-town police station, lying on the metal bed and staring at the flickering light above me.

  I knew they wouldn’t have enough evidence to charge me, at least not until they’d pieced together whatever puzzle they’d created. I didn’t kill my family and there wasn’t a shred of evidence to prove I did. But there was no proof I didn’t. They’d settle on arresting me and I would spend the next forty eight hours in custody while they built a case to charge me with a crime I didn’t commit.

  AJ had forty-eight hours ahead of me, and I had to get out and find him.

  The sun had just risen and the rain continued to pour when the door of the cell creaked open and a man suited entirely in black stepped in.

  “You don’t want a lawyer?” he asked, sliding sunglasses onto his head like something out of a cheesy American cop show.

  “I don’t need a lawyer,” I said, sitting up and stretching my neck. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Daniel Lance. I lead an operation called Valentine.”

  “And what’s that? What does it have to do with me?”

  “Not you. Your family. And it’s just a name.” He gestured for me to get up. “You’re no criminal, Jesse. Come.”

  I stood up and followed him through the station, feeling tens of pairs of eyes o
n me. The murderer label had already stuck. They thought I was guilty. Daniel led me through a coded door and up the stairs to a lounge, shutting the door behind us.

  “Sit,” he ordered. “How’s your body holding up? I’ve got coffee, breakfast and painkillers on the way up.”

  “I’m fine.” I lied. I hurt like a bitch, physically and mentally. “Why?” I sat back and sucked a deep breath into my charred lungs. “They arrested me.”

  “I know. But that angle won’t work.”

  “What angle? What are you talking about?”

  There was a knock on the door as soon as I spoke and Daniel opened it, accepted a trolley of food and drink, and locked the door when he’d closed it again.

  “Tea or coffee?”

  “Coffee. Milk, no sugar.”

  “I know you have nothing to do with the murder of your family,” he said, putting the coffee together.

  I shuddered. The nightmare hadn’t ended with the arrival of Boxing Day.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “I think you’ll be a valuable asset to the investigation.”

  “Why? I’m a doctor, not a detective.”

  He laughed, handed me my coffee and two pills, and sat down opposite me. I tossed the pills back quickly and prayed it would do something to ease the tight pain in every muscle in my body.

  “The rules are more lenient than the media lets you believe.”

  “Are you going to explain this or keep talking in circles? If not, I’ll go back to my cell and wait to be released.”

  “You’re free to go.” When I didn’t move, he smiled and continued. “We began investigating your father’s company some time ago, but after three years, we came up with nothing…until six weeks ago.”

  “What happened six weeks ago?”

  I tried to think of where my life was six weeks earlier. I was working, fighting and frequenting Angels far more often than I’d admit. This really did have nothing to do with me. Any of it.

  “Your father started an investigation of his own.”

  “What kind of investigation?”

  I suddenly remembered my dad calling me, but I missed it because my phone was in my locker and I was in the ring. Was that six weeks ago?

  “The same as ours, but he kept it internal.”