The Fire at Freedom Pond Park

He didn't plan on watching it burn, but he couldn't help himself.

The plan was to get the fire started, then escape back the way he’d come; across the frozen pond to the small park, which opened onto Water street, and then three blocks south to the small side street where he'd left the car. But as he got to the edge of the pond, he turned back to look at the fire and couldn't leave. He needed to watch it burn, but most of all, he wanted to hear their screams.

His thoughts were consumed by revenge as the fire slowly spread;

“Let God sort them out. They’re all getting what they deserve; they can all die for all I care; everybody in that hell hole of a building can die for what they’ve done.”

The anger raging inside him burned hotter than the flames that were now licking the outside of the building. This anger had grown larger every day since the morning, three weeks ago, that she was found beside this same pond, naked and beaten beyond recognition. The four pigs that did this were arrested within a few days, and that’s when the news reports of what happened started. The water wasn't frozen yet, and the reports said the attack lasted hours as each of them took turns abusing her before throwing her into the pond and leaving her for dead.

Two days ago, something inside him snapped when these pieces of shit were released. Apparently, the three witnesses, that were so sure of what they saw that night, suddenly changed their stories and couldn’t identify the men.

Seeing the smiling faces of these animals as they were released; changed his anger to pure hatred and a need for revenge and justice.

That fire of hatred burned so hotly in his mind that he didn't feel the cold as he lay on the snow-covered bank, across the street, just inches away from the small frozen pond where it happened.

He could hear sirens in the distance, and the sound of windows popping as the smoke from the fire enveloped his senses. The smell pushed his mind back to happier days when everything in his life was different in every way.

It reminded him of camping trips, sitting around the fire singing songs and drinking. He tried to remember the last time they spent a weekend up north and thought, “It must have been a few years before she ended it.”

She’d finally had enough of his drinking and left four months ago. The shock of losing her shook him to his core as his every thought was filled with the understanding of the pain he'd caused her. His need for alcohol was replaced by an overwhelming need to repair the damage he'd caused to their relationship and, even more so, to Lana's heart.

They started talking again a month and a half ago and were slowly getting back to who they were before his addiction ruined everything. They’d agreed to take it slow as she needed to work through her feelings and didn’t want to rush. But he was beginning to see the light in her eyes again, the sparkle of light that warmed his heart and gave him hope.

Tears streamed down his face as he thought about how that light was turned off now as she lay in that hospital bed in an induced coma that was allowing her broken body to heal.

The guilt he felt from seeing her lying in that bed with tubes coming out of her body was overwhelming. He knew this was all on him as she would never have moved to this area if it wasn’t for his addiction and his blindness to what it was doing to her.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the arrival of the first fire trucks and said, “No. It’s too quick. How did they get here so fast?”

He watched in disbelieve as they attacked the fire with remarkable speed and had it under control in less than thirty minutes.

The place was now swarming with all kinds of vehicles. There were fire trucks, paramedics and police cruisers, all with their lights flashing like it was some kind of parade.

The police were starting to search the area, and he knew it was only a matter of time before they worked their way across the street to the pond. He needed to move, and he needed to do it now. Keeping low to the ground, he pushed himself backwards until he felt the ice underneath him before getting to a crouching position and quickly moving towards the park.

“Hey you, Stop!”

He heard the loud command just as he got to the other side of the pond and turned to see someone waving a flashlight and yelling at him from the position he'd just left.

“I said stop. Stay where you are. Don’t move.”

Two other officers joined in the pursuit as they stepped onto the ice and started towards him.

He slowly backed up the bank before stopping at the edge of the park, not knowing what to do and afraid to move as they made their way across. Because of the flashing lights behind them, he could see they had their guns drawn.

Those flashing lights were his saving grace as he realized he could see them, but they couldn't see him. They were veering away from him by about fifty yards, and he could hear their voices carrying across the ice.

“Can you see him, Bill?”

“No. I can’t see a damn thing. Shit, where is he?”

He thought, “It’s now or never,” and ran as fast as he could through the park and down Water Street to his car.

Twenty minutes later, he was home, sitting on his couch watching the news, looking for anything on the fire at Freedom Pond Park.

*****

There were no reports on the fire until mid-morning the next day.

He sat with the coffee cup shaking in his hand as he stared at the screen in disbelieve.

How was this possible? He knew the address was correct as he'd searched several sources to find that they all lived in that building. So why now were they saying that no one was living there? The reporter said the only people on sight were two security guards doing their rounds in the rear of the building when the fire broke out, and they were not injured.

The reporter stopped talking, and the screen changed to a police spokesman standing outside the building.

"We were fortunate last night that nobody was injured in this act of arson that amounts to attempted murder. If this had happened a month ago, we would probably be dealing with several deaths. Just last month, it was discovered there was instability in the support beams in the underground parking lot, and all the residents were moved to local hotels until more testing is done and the problem fixed.”

The reporters started shouting questions until the officer said, "Hold on, guys. One at a time, please," and pointed at someone in the front.

“Yes, Phil Gallant, from City news. You said arson. Could you elaborate, please?”

“Yes, Phil. We have video supplied by the security company. They have several cameras set up around the building to protect the tenants' homes until they can return. We have footage of the arsonist starting the fire and then running across the street to the pond. That footage will be released shortly. The video is not perfect because of the lighting, but we're hoping that someone out there can recognize this person's clothing.”

The sound of the coffee cup smashing on the floor startled him back to his senses.

The broken cup and puddle of coffee lay where it fell as he paced the floor, his thoughts racing, “How could I not see the cameras? What have I done? How could I be so stupid as to not know that building was empty?”

He fought for the answers to these questions and dozens of others for the next few minutes until he suddenly stopped pacing and ran to the bedroom, thinking about what the cop said.

“The clothes; He had to get rid of the clothes.”

Panicking now, he quickly packed the clothes into a plastic bag and shaved his mustache before leaving the apartment and driving to the hospital. He parked in the rear lot, threw his phone into the glove box, and the bag into the ravine behind the building before going inside.

Just inside the hospital entrance, he stopped at the sandwich shop to grab a coffee before going up to see Lana. While waiting for his coffee, he stared at the flat screen on the wall with relief. They were showing the video, and the officer was right; it was poor quality. It would be almost impossible for anyone to recognize the person in the video; anyone but him.

He sat in Lana’s room for the next two hours, holding her hand and apologizing for all he’d done. As he held the hand of the woman he loved and felt the warmth of the blood that coursed through her body, he realized that what happened last night was a good thing.

The destruction he'd planned was no different than the destruction his drinking had caused; it wasn't about her; it was about him and his needs.

How could he help her like this? How could he be there for her if he was in jail for murder? He could still end up in jail for arson, for who knows how long. How could he do this to her just when she needed him the most?

Before leaving the room, not knowing if he would ever see her again, he gently kissed her cheek and said, "I'm so sorry, honey. I love you. I will always love you."

After returning to the car, he retrieved his phone from the glove box to see that he had three missed calls and two messages.

The calls were all from detective Brice, the lead detective on Lana’s case, as were the messages.

The two messages were the same, “Colin, it’s detective Brice. Please call me as soon as you get this message.”

He thought, “It’s just a matter of time,” and returned the call. He talked to the detective for a minute before putting the car in gear and driving to the station.

His legs felt weak as he walked into the building with the detective's words echoing in his mind, "You need to come in. We have some video we need to talk to you about, and it can't be done over the phone."

When he entered the office, he was disarmed by the way detective Brice greeted him. He stood and shook Colin's hand with a large grin on his face and asked him to sit.

He asked, “So what is this about? Why am I here?”

Brice smiled, “I’m sure you heard about the fire at the freedom pond apartments last night.”

“Yes, of course. It’s been all over the news. I've seen the video, but I can’t make out who it is. Why would you ask me about it?”

"That video is shit, but that's not the one I told you about. A tenant of the building called us after seeing that and told us she might have a video. She hadn't been to her apartment in over a month, but her security cameras may have picked up something."

Bile rose in his throat as he asked, "So did you get the recording? Is it any better?"

"Yes, we got the video, but her recording of last night is even worse as her camera was blocked by smoke. But she told me it was set up about six weeks ago, so I searched to see if there were any videos of the night that Lana was attacked.”

His breathing almost stopped as he asked, “Did you find anything?”

"Yes, we did. The whole thing was captured on camera. We got them, Colin. They were all arrested an hour ago and are signing confessions as we speak. It's over, Colin. We got the bastards."

A wave of emotion so strong overtook his soul that he started sobbing uncontrollably.

The detective came around the desk and rubbed Colin’s shoulders, saying, "It's over, man. You can do what you need to do now; Take care of the woman you love."