In some cases whole families were lost, leaving no one to mourn but friends. Perhaps they were the lucky ones. The cleanup took ten days and, since identification was impossible, the bodies were buried together in a mass grave.

No, God’s house is no refuge from fire. But you know that. God’s house is no refuge from anything. You didn’t mean to kill the policewoman. She just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It happens.

But the other one, the one who called himself God’s servant. The Reverend Sebastian Thorogood got exactly what he deserved.

POSTED BY thefirewatcher AT 7:18 AM

18 COMMENTS

BP12realSticko said . . .

You’re sick mate! You need some serious help.

JPBrown82 said . . .

Why isn’t anyone doing anything about this guy? Is this for real?

Firebug69 said . . .

Shut the fuck up, douchebags! #firewatching

Bazzameat1 said . . .

Check this out #firewatching

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Bright sunlight is shattered by the frosted glass of the window, creating a dance of fireflies across the polystyrene ceiling. Doggett is standing next to him, his leg twitching, and Tyler finds the movement oddly comforting. DCI Jordan is standing on the other side of the desk, her back to them, talking into her mobile. Or listening for the most part; Superintendent Stevens is the one doing all the talking. After a few minutes, she ends the call without saying goodbye. She turns and then sits down at the desk. “Rabbani?” she asks.

Doggett shakes his head. “No change.”

“Any idea what she was doing there?”

Doggett employs his trademark shrug.

“She was looking into Thorogood,” Tyler tells her.

Jordan sighs loudly and sits down behind the desk. She looks at him, and he knows what’s coming before she speaks.

“I’m taking you off the case.” She says it quietly, and Tyler nods.

Doggett says, “Ma’am, I don’t think—”

“No, you don’t, do you?” She slams her hand down on the desk.

Doggett opens his mouth to go on and then evidently changes his mind.

Jordan sighs again and rubs her forehead. “Just wait outside, Jim. I’ll deal with you later.”

He hesitates, then turns and places his bony palm on Tyler’s shoulder. He squeezes it in a peculiarly intimate way and then he’s gone, the door closing behind Tyler with a soft click.

Diane Jordan says, “I can’t protect you this time, Adam.”

“I know.”

She shakes her head. “Why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you just tell me you knew him?”

He wishes he could answer that.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I’m sorry we no longer have the sort of relationship where you feel you can talk to me.”

And he realizes she’s right. They don’t have that relationship anymore.