Callous Hockey Shot
Prologue
RACHEL HOYTON
My son, Daniel, was oddly fascinated by fire for a large percentage of his childhood, eventually leading to the affectionate nickname of “Arson” that my brother-in-law Neil bestowed on him due to his propensity for starting fires after a weekend spent learning survival skills with Beaver Scouts.
The fires were always small and carefully controlled, and he seemed to have an inbuilt instinct for safety measures.
But every time I saw those flickering flames reflected in his blue eyes, turning his hair an even deeper red, a chill went down my spine.
You see, although Daniel’s fascination with fire diminished over time, I have a very distinct memory that I know I’ll never be able to forget.
The day had begun like any other, with one difference.
For months, the Hoyton Firm had been embroiled in an ongoing court case against a rival gang, the Culverhouse Network.
We’d been running a small logistics company, headed up by my husband, Roy, alongside our other endeavours, and as part of that, we’d had a loose business agreement with the Culverhouse Network.
That had lasted until the head of the network, Frank Culverhouse, claimed we were skimming from their operations.
To cut a long story short, Frank Culverhouse took us to court. He was represented by Harold Bellingham, an up-and-coming commercial law barrister with a formidable reputation, even then.
The case had dragged on for months, but eventually, we won.
The Hoyton Firm had always been careful to cover our tracks, burying our less-than-legitimate endeavours beneath layers and layers of perfectly legitimate interests, which included our logistics company.
The Culverhouse Network…they hadn’t been quite so careful, to their detriment.
Frank Culverhouse was furious and humiliated, and as for Harold Bellingham…
he didn’t take losing his most lucrative client well, to say the least.
But there was nothing they could do. We’d won the case, and what remained of the Culverhouse Network faded deep into the underworld to lick their wounds and regroup. It felt as if we could finally breathe again after months of uncertainty.
Things had quietened down, although my husband had been disappearing at odd hours of the day.
It wasn’t unusual in itself, but Neil was concerned that Roy was keeping something from him, which in turn concerned me.
The day everything came to a head, I was in Daniel’s bedroom, sorting through some of his old baby clothes, when Neil called me on our internal intercom.
“Rachel. Got a minute?”
I glanced back at the pile of clothes covering my bed. It could wait.
“Yes. What’s up?”
“I need to speak to you. I’m in my lounge.”
I entered Neil’s living quarters to find him crouching in front of the fireplace next to my two-year-old son. His own son, Stephen, was on the other side of the room, sitting cross-legged on the floor and scribbling in a notebook.
Flames were dancing in the grate, partially obscured by the iron fireguard, and Daniel was clapping his hands together and laughing. He caught sight of me, those flickering flames reflected in his blue eyes, and he treated me to a bright smile.
“Mummy! Fire!”
I glanced over at Neil. “You didn’t let him near the fire, did you?”
Neil instantly shook his head. “No. I had my back turned for two minutes, and the little terror was trying to get to the matches, so I lit a fire for him. Don’t worry—the matches are well out of his reach, and he knows not to go near the flames. Don’t you, Dan? We don’t touch the fire.”
Daniel nodded vigorously. “Hot!”
“See? Don’t worry. I promise I’ll never let any harm come to your son. Me and Roy—we’ll teach him how to be safe.”
“I know you will,” I murmured. “Speaking of Roy, shouldn’t he be here by now? He was only supposed to be going to the warehouse to pick something up.”
Neil’s mouth twisted. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.
” His voice lowered, his gaze flicking between our sons.
“I was…worried. He hasn’t been the same since the court case.
Maybe I shouldn’t have done it, but I dug into his email records today, and I’ve just finished going through the information I found. ”
My hand flew to my mouth. “Neil.”
“Rachel. Listen to me. Roy’s been keeping secrets from us both. Frank Culverhouse hasn’t gone away like we thought. He’s out for revenge after we won the case, and he’s been blackmailing Roy, threatening our family.” His voice cracked. “And I had no idea about any of it. No clue whatsoever.”
He passed me a set of printouts, and I noticed the shake in his hand.
My own hands shook as I read through the correspondence.
Every word was dripping with malicious intent, and the more I read, the worse it became—death threats towards myself and Neil, insinuation of harm coming to Daniel and Stephen, threats to torch the Hoyton family home…
Something happened then that made my entire body go cold. A premonition, perhaps. Whatever it was, the blood turned to ice in my veins as my son’s smile fell away, his eyes growing wide and troubled.
“Daddy. Fire. Fire. Fire.”
His words were still echoing in my ears, those dancing flames in his eyes still playing through my mind when Neil and I reached the warehouse.
As the car came to a screeching halt, I watched, helpless, as two figures ran inside—my husband, closely followed by Frank Culverhouse, gun in hand.
We had only managed to get our seat belts unclipped when the explosion happened.
Neil covered my body with his as glass rained down on us and a searing heat rolled through the car. The firebomb lit up the sky for miles around.
I only have snapshots after that. Neil’s shaking hands gripping the steering wheel, mumbling something about needing to leave before the police arrived to investigate.
The black plume of smoke obscuring the sky in my wing mirror.
The broken words scraped out from Neil’s raw throat, insisting that he could’ve stopped the tragedy if only Roy hadn’t chosen to keep secrets from us.
My son, running out of the house and clinging onto my trembling legs as my tears began to fall.
There was no way a human could withstand being engulfed in the epicentre of that explosion.
Two men entered the warehouse that day, and neither returned.
I lost a husband. Neil lost a brother. Stephen lost an uncle.
And Daniel lost a father.
I still hear my son’s heartbreaking cries for his daddy, even now.
I still see his tear-stained face as he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.
And although he has no memory of that night anymore, I still vividly remember the words he said, right before our lives were torn apart.
Daddy. Fire. Fire. Fire.