Trust No One: A Tense Psychological Thriller Full of Twists

My father once argued that it is safer to live in the countryside.

In the big cities, he pointed out, there are dangers around every corner. People are unpredictable and the more of them you have around, the higher the risk of drugs, knife crime, burglaries, rape and murder. Move to the countryside, find a remote location with less people, and the trouble goes away.

I agreed with him on one point. People are unpredictable. But when there are more of them around, it is easier to get help should you find yourself in trouble.

Out in the countryside, all alone, you only need to stumble across one wrong person and no one will be there to raise the alarm. No one will hear you when you scream.

I am reminded of that conversation now as the car travels down the narrow bumpy lanes, headlights cutting a path ahead.

The window is down, the heat of the night warming my skin. There is silence in the car. I need time to think, to compose myself. I have to focus.

Despite the blackness of the night, the low light from the moon, the lack of streetlamps, and the isolation of the property, it is easy to find. I have spent so many nights watching the house, absorbing everything that happened, and trying to pluck up the courage to put things right.

Tonight I will not be a coward and leave.

Tonight it ends.

The car stops just inside the main gate and I gather my things, get out, hiking up the long driveway to the house.

Tonight is for me. It is my responsibility to end this, my chance to put things right, but it is a job I have to do alone.

The property is sprawling and there are no nearby neighbours, but I approach quietly, aware the only sounds cutting the silence are my boots as they hit the dirt track and my shallow breathing. Everything is still and so peaceful; the perfect setting for the spectacle I have planned.

Round and round I go, like a teddy bear, the trickle of liquid soothing as it falls. The heady smell of petrol fills my nostrils, making me giddy with anticipation. As I place the second empty can down and study the building for a final time, I remind myself that I am just putting things right and that tonight I will sleep easier.

The match burns bright, an orange flicker against the darkness that grows quickly in intensity as the flames lick the house.

Did you know that in the UK there are approximately 250 fire-related deaths each year?

And did you know that the response time of the fire brigade will depend on where you live? If you are in a city location, the fire engines will reach you in an average time of seven minutes and eleven seconds; however, out here in the countryside in such a remote location, it can take ten minutes and six seconds.

That is an extra two minutes and fifty-five seconds for the fire to burn. An extra two minutes and fifty-five seconds to make sure that the sinners pay for their crimes.

The flames rise higher and their passionate roar is like music to my ears as the heat burns my skin. Thick smoke billows into the air and I imagine what is happening inside the house. Can only hope the last moments are of terror and remorse.

Glancing at my watch I note the fire has only been burning for four minutes. The fire engines will still be at least six minutes away and by the time they arrive, it will be too late.

I smile to myself.

Living in the countryside isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.