by Jay Nadal
24
Scott headed back to his office and paced the worn floor like a caged lion. His jaws were clenched tight, his lips pursed in a thin line and his eyes fixed wide in bewilderment.
With a sense of urgency and eagerness, DCI Berry followed in his footsteps. “I know this is probably a shock, Scott. When I heard about the case and the second disappearance, I just had this feeling that whoever had committed our unsolved murders was more than likely responsible for Hailey’s death.”
Despite an overwhelming urge, Scott resisted the temptation to say something he may later regret. He drew on every ounce of self-control to push that red mist to one side. He crossed his arms willing at least to listen.
“Yes, we could have discussed the cases and their relevance over the phone. But I never nicked the sick fucker who did this to Jackie Stickley and Alison Gray. I’m bloody good at my job and having those two cold cases sitting against my name doesn’t make me feel good. I want to find the bastard who did this to those girls and I won’t give up until I have found him.
“Surely it makes sense for us to pool our resources and intelligence on these cases. With a bit of luck, we can get some brownie points both in Essex and Sussex,” she responded.
Scott begrudgingly accepted that she had a valid point. What frustrated him was the fact that again Meadows hadn’t consulted him. To rub more salt in the wound, there had been no mention of him attending the press conference tomorrow, either.
The team looked up in surprise and exchanged inquisitive looks as Scott and Berry walked side by side towards them.
“Team, can I have your attention? I’d like to introduce you to DCI Hermione Berry from Essex Police. She’s requested a secondment to our team to help us with our ongoing investigations into the murder of Hailey Bratton, and the potential disappearance of Rebecca Thorne. DCI Berry will now fill you in on the reasons that she’s here.”
Scott took one step back and stuffed his hands in his pockets. DCI Berry gave him a nod of gratitude.
“Thank you, Scott. I know you’re probably surprised that I’ve just turned up, and that you weren’t warned about it. I apologise for that as I do to DI Baker because he wasn’t aware of it, either.” She glanced back over her shoulder towards Scott and gave him a warm smile.
Berry walked over towards the incident board and put up two extra pictures of Jackie Stickley and Alison Gray. She described both students to Mike, Raj and Abby. “These are two victims who were murdered more than five years ago. Both were students at the University of Essex, and both were redheads. They were aged between eighteen and twenty, they had no earlier records and were just your average students. They were abducted, found mutilated and murdered within weeks of each other. Up until this point, we still have no real motive for the murders. The only things that they had in common, were that they were both students and they were both redheads.”
The team exchanged glances as they absorbed the information. Abby’s eyes were firmly fixed on Scott. She could sense his unease and unhappiness about the situation and was desperate to quiz him, but knew she could do that later. It wasn’t uncommon for officers to be seconded to other counties where there was resource shortage, or where specialist skills were required. In such cases, it would always be discussed with the receiving teams. DCI Berry’s arrival without notice stirred Abby’s suspicions.
“DC Mike Wilson,” Mike announced. “Do you have any theories, Ma’am, as to why it has been more than five years between your murders and ours?”
Berry turned towards Mike. “Good to meet you, Mike. Unfortunately, we have no idea as to why there’s been a five-year gap, if this is the same person. The person may have been banged up and has only recently been released and gone on to reoffend. And obviously, that’s a line of enquiry we definitely need to follow. They may have just been away, either working away or abroad and have only just returned. But that’s just speculation and potential reasons why. But it’s not uncommon for killers to go underground for a bit and commit these acts when something is triggered in their life that causes them to reoffend.”
Mike nodded as he raised an eyebrow in agreement.
DCI Berry grabbed her notepad and pen from the desk beside her. “Okay. So what I’ll do is sit down with you individually and just get up to speed with what you’ve been doing. I need to see what lines of enquiry you are following and what evidence we’ve managed to gather so far. Is that okay with you, Scott?”
Scott nodded approvingly before he turned and headed off. He shouted over his shoulder to no one in particular, “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
Scott sat down heavily in his chair and blew out his cheeks. A combination of tiredness and exhaustion washed over his body. His legs felt like lead weights and his eyelids felt like they were attached to two bags of sand. He needed a coffee and some chocolate to boost his energy levels. The top drawer of his desk offered the comforting sight of a Cadbury Flake. It was only then that he realised he hadn’t eaten today. No wonder I feel like a sack of shit.
His moment of pleasure would have to wait a few more seconds as Abby appeared in his doorway. She leant against the doorway and dropped her head to one side. “You okay, Guv?”
Scott ran his hand through his hair before closing his eyes. He nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. I’ve just got a lot on my plate at the moment. You know how it is, stacks of paperwork, case files to review, management reports. Do I need to continue?” He groaned and went on without Abby’s response, “Listen, I know you’ve talked about going for your DI, but trust me sometimes it’s not worth the extra aggravation.”
Abby raised her brow in suspicion. “It’s me you’re talking to. Either you’re not happy about the DCI being dumped on your lap, or you’re not happy about Meadows interfering again?”
Scott let out a subtle soft laugh. “Nothing gets past you, Sherlock. Does it?”
“I’m still waiting,” Abby said as she crossed her arms in defiance. “Do you know much about DCI Berry?”
Scott closed his eyes again knowing that if he opened them, Abby would see straight through his fabrication. He shook his head. “I know of her, but I don’t really know much about her. She was based in another part of Essex.” He hoped that it would be enough to get Abby of his back.
Abby took a few steps back, nodded and walked away slowly clearly unconvinced.
25
The darkness of the room matched the blackness of his mood. He had always looked forward to their weekly meetings, but more recently she had taken on an air of arrogance and assertiveness with him which he didn’t like.
Nevertheless, a part of him remained that always looked forward to seeing her. She understood him. Agreed with him.
Pacified him.
He sat in the solitary chair by the desk as he gazed at the full-length mirror beyond. The reflection showed a man smartly dressed. His dark grey suit made him look professional, senior and authoritative. His crisp white shirt added a boldness to his statement, the stark colour in marked contrast to the gloom that surrounded him. A smart red silk tie completed the ensemble.
He took a small sip from the china cup, before resting it back down on the plate. The tea was strong and dark, just the way he liked it. He’d never quite understood why people always insisted on having milky tea. Especially when it was full-fat milk, the gloopy liquid clung to the insides of your mouth.
He glanced around at his environment; the place wasn’t how he remembered it. Things were certainly going downhill in his opinion. He glanced at himself in the mirror and raised an eyebrow to express his dissatisfaction. Confusion clouded his thoughts. He couldn’t quite understand why she would have swapped the aroma of lavender for engine oil. It was anything but soothing.
“How am I?” he asked as he glanced into the eyes of the reflection.
“I’m very well, thank you. A few aches and pains, but I can’t grumble,” he offered. “Yes, I’m pleased to be here, too. It’s been a tough time, but with your guiding
hand, I’ve never felt better,” he continued with a wry smile.
He nodded a few times as he listened intently to the voice inside his head. She had a calming, plum voice, her every syllable pronounced with perfection. She was a woman with a mystical presence, which whisked him away to the deepest, safest part of his mind.
A satisfying smile grew across his face as he hung on her every word. There she goes again, weaving her hypnotic charms, wrapping him in words that sprung straight off a dictionary page. Verbigeration, I love that word. She always says I do a lot of that. And if she says I do that a lot, then that’s clearly something to be proud of. He felt smug, content even, that she was impressed by his range of vocabulary.
He nodded again. “No, I don’t need them any more. I was given them to take and yes, they were helpful to begin with. But I’ve changed now. I’m in control of my moods and behaviour. Surely you can see it yourself?” he asked.
He stared long and hard at the mirror waiting for a response. Perhaps she was doing the ‘silent’ thing that she so often did to get him to open up.
A chill gripped the room as the evening wore on. The fine hairs on the back of his neck bristled as he listened harder. A deep laugh echoed around the large empty space. “As the saying goes, physically I’m here, mentally I’m far, far away.” Then the smile disappeared in an instant as he brought his awareness back to the reflection.
A steely stare returned as his eyes danced across the mirror, captivated by the differences in shade that it held. “I’m like any other man,” he emphasised as he pointed a finger at the reflection. “It’s a long time since I’ve done those things. I wouldn’t harm anyone now. I’ve seen the error of my ways. Now I prefer my own company with a glass of wine and a good book.”
He wasn’t going to lie down and accept the accusation of being heartless and lacking in remorse. Blood surged through his veins as his temples throbbed. “I’m not a fucking animal,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “I’m not going to let them get away with it, am I? If someone pisses me off, then I have to let them know.”
Anger spewed from every pore as he threw his cup and saucer across the room. “You’re not listening! I’ve changed!” he shouted as he launched from the chair. “I can’t help it if they get me angry,” he bellowed through red, blotchy cheeks.
“Listen…I am not what happened to me. I am what I choose to become,” he recited as he waited for the adrenaline to subside. His hands trembled as he sat back down.
The reflection remained still, neither unmoved nor perturbed by his outburst.
A noise from behind him interrupted the man’s concentration. Heavy thuds and muffled screams punctured the silence, testing his patience. His eyes glanced towards the dark ceiling in the vain hope that silence would return.
“I’m sorry for the rude interruption,” he offered the reflection. “Workmen. You know how it is. Insensitive and useless bastards at the best of times.”
26
She was desperate to swallow but with no saliva moistening her parched throat, any attempt to quench her thirst proved futile. Rebecca Thorne’s head spun. Her eyes tried to focus in the darkness, but despite several attempts to blink the sleep dust away, blackness engulfed her.
Her senses strained to break free of the dark tomb that she found herself in. But her body ached. Held fixed in one position, she longed to stretch her legs, but the space that she found herself in pushed her knees closer into the foetal position. The coldness of the metal tingled the soles of her feet as she pushed hard against the confines of the metal box.
Waves of panic rushed through her, pricking her skin, and forcing beads of sweat to form on her forehead. Despite the coldness of her environment, her body ached. It felt hot and tacky.
She didn’t feel right, not because of her cold, metal prison, but because she couldn’t think straight. She knew something wasn’t right. Her mind, a mixture of emotions and fuzziness, didn’t offer her the clarity she needed to think straight. She vaguely remembered events of the night before. The loud music and the heavy beat still pounded her head and rang in her ears. This only added to the confusion. She remembered the fresh air assaulting her nostrils as she stumbled out of the club. The direction she’d followed to find her way home, and which points of reference she’d passed, seemed to all merge into one melting pot of confusion.
Random images and flashbacks of memories rushed through her mind. She recalled fleeting flashbacks of revellers who passed her by, their faces blurred, and street lights that flickered in slow motion. Then the sudden warmth of familiarity, the interior of a car. And that’s where her recollections faded. Nothing after that memory made sense. In fact, none of it made sense.
She could feel her body weakening. From somewhere deep within her soul, she groaned. She knew she should have avoided alcohol, but she missed drinking so much. She’d convinced herself that a few drinks wouldn’t hurt. How wrong she had been.
Her body shook; her stomach twisted and churned. She knew she wasn’t well, the symptoms were all there. The shakes, weakness, light-headedness, dizziness, sweats and a thumping headache.
With the little energy that she had left, she pushed and thrashed against the sides of the container. Her voice croaked as she thumped the back of her fists on the cold metal. “Help!” she screamed. In reality, her scream evaporated into the air, nothing more than a muffled murmur. Each attempt to push against the sides of the container, each hoarse cry for help, sapped her energy further.
Her mind willed her to keep pushing on; her body begged her for sleep. She was caught between hazy moments of consciousness and restful episodes of unconsciousness. As each moment passed by, her body won the battle and dragged her back to the darkest places of restfulness.
Part of her mind sprang into action as the box rattled. Bright light punctured her vision. A white orb pierced the retinas of her eyeballs as she lifted her hand’s to act as shields to protect them from the burning sensation. Her body jerked and flinched as a stinging sensation raced across her cheek; a burning, red warmth glowed from where he repeatedly slapped her.
The man pulled the duct tape from her mouth, where her parched, dry lips tore and stung. The pain was excruciating, but on the other hand, a welcomed relief, as she inhaled large lungfuls of air. Her body flooded with oxygen.
He stared at her naked form for a few minutes, fascinated by the rapid rise and fall of her chest. He’d almost forgotten just how magnificent she looked naked. Her large breasts, still young and pert, defied gravity. Her nipples stood hard from the rush of cold air that raced across her glistening body. He ran his finger across her moist navel, before tasting the saltiness on the tip of his finger. He smiled.
“Rebecca, you really do choose your moments. I was in a really important meeting, and you spoilt it towards the end. And yes, I admit I was angry, but looking at you now, how can I be angry at such a beautiful form? You were just trying to get my attention. But you don’t have to play games with me, because you’ve already got my attention. You’ve already won my heart.”
Rebecca could barely hear his words. Through the squint in her eyes, she vaguely made out the form of a dark figure silhouetted in front of a bright light. His words intertwined into a continuous murmur that echoed around her. As he touched her, the sickness of dread crawled across every inch of her flesh. He probed her in places where she didn’t want to be touched. Her eyes flickered momentarily before closing, sleep beckoned.
“Now now, Rebecca, I don’t want you to go too soon. It would be nice if you hung around a bit longer than last time. We’re only just getting to know one another, and I’ve got so much to tell you. You really are beauty personified, and I know you want to give yourself to me otherwise you wouldn’t be lying here naked, inviting me to explore you.”
He unscrewed the lid from the Lucozade bottle and lifted her head, before feeding her sip by sip.
She weakly consumed the contents, her lips reaching out, desperate for moisture, desperate t
o quench the thirst that ravished her body.
“You’ll feel much better after this,” he reassured her. “It’s a good thing that you had your ID bracelet in your bag.”
27
Late into the evening, the station canteen offered a sanctuary to tired and weary officers coming to the end of a long day shift or who were just about to start the night shift.
Several uniformed officers sat in small huddles sipping on cups of tea and coffee, quiet voices occasionally punctured by hearty laughs.
Raj sat flicking through a copy of the local Argus newspaper. It contained the usual mix of news that seemed to fill the newspaper these days. Various reports of motor vehicle accidents peppered the pages, along with articles relating to numerous arrests and the rundown of festivals that were happening up and down Brighton and Hove. He wasn’t into sport, so he would invariably skip the last few pages.
He shook his head as he read an article about how a shoplifter had racially abused a shop assistant. Raj recognised the local Co-op in Western Road. He scanned through the details of the article. It went into detail about how the shoplifter picked items off the shelf and put them into his bag. The article went on to detail that when challenged at the checkout, he verbally abused staff and grabbed a security guard by the chest before being restrained.
It wasn’t the story that bothered him, but the reference to the racially abusive language that had been directed towards the shop assistant. It was this aspect of the crime that incensed Raj and challenged his beliefs about humanity and society.