by Linda Coles
As darkness had fallen, she felt safer to move, get herself to a road and find help, naked from the waist down or not. She couldn’t worry about her modesty now. Leanne wiped her face on her sleeve in a vain attempt to focus her attention on her situation and figure out what to do next, where to head. In the far distance was the glow of streetlights and the muffled sound of traffic, and she rightly assumed it to be a motorway. But which one? She could be anywhere. She looked in the opposite direction; that way seemed black all over with a slight differential where the skyline met the ground. Behind her, it was much the same. But was there a glow of creamy light, the movement of headlights maybe. Could there be a local road to aim for? There was only one way to find out, and with thistles pricking at her feet and cold mud and what smelt like cow muck squashing between her toes, she padded her way as carefully as she could towards the light. With no stars or moonlight to guide her, she fixed her gaze forward, feeling for possible obstacles that might trip her up. She didn’t think she could cope with any more pain.
She’d had time to think back in the room; there had been precious else to do, and she’d thought a lot about her family life and her relationship with her parents. She and her friends at school constantly moaned at the restrictions their parents put on their lives – not letting them go to concerts or see a boy who was a couple of years older or wear makeup. How she’d fooled them in the past, saying she was at a friend’s house studying when in fact she was someplace else. And what a fuss she’d made of cycling on Christmas Day and on other days when her parents had encouraged her to spend time with them. She choked back a sob. It was all so pointless now, and she vowed that when she did get back home – because she would – things would change on her part.
What she wouldn’t trade now to be safe at home with her mum and dad. Her tears were still falling; they had never properly stopped completely though they had slowed in pace. Fresh sobs caught in her throat. She wiped her nose on her wet sleeve again and pushed forward across the soggy grassland, hoping she was moving in the right direction, that the creamy light up ahead was a road or a house, somewhere she could get help, somewhere she could call her mum and dad and tell them she was alright. A house or a shop or somewhere, anywhere, with someone who would help her and take her home. She fell to her knees and wailed into the night, pouring out a torrent of grief and remorse from deep inside her soul.
At last, spent and shivering, she lay where she’d dropped and curled into a foetal position for comfort as the icy cold rain began to fall once again.
Chapter Forty-Five
By the time they’d heard the fire engines in the distance, the van and its occupants were heading west on the M25, though neither of the two men could agree on what to do and where to go, having rushed from the house in mayhem. In the back, the two girls whimpered. Nobody heard their muffled cries apart from the other occupants of the van. The woman stayed silent.
The air was filled with tension, and the smell of stale urine and filthy clothing.
“You stink,” Bernard shouted back at the youngest girl. She’d been terrified by her ordeal and her clothes were sopping.
To Rob, he seemed to be unravelling a little. “Calm down, will you? The house and all evidence are gone, and these can’t identify and find us,” he said, pointing over his shoulder. “No names, and no idea where they’ve been all this time, and with the fear of god put into them, I’d say there won’t be an issue. And in any case, I’ve been chewing through a plan while you’ve been stressing.”
“Let’s hear it then, bright spark.”
“We drop them off individually, at different spots so they never see each other again. Drop one off somewhere here, another in another county and the last in another. The cops won’t figure it out for a while. It’s Christmas, remember, so they’ll be on minimum staff and full of turkey if they’ve any sense. Perfect time to give them something to do. We’ll be lucky if things get linked together by New Year, and we’ll be well out of it by then.”
Bernard sat and mulled it over in silence. “So, you reckon one around here someplace?” he said at length.
“I’d say so. We’re not far to the next county, so we can do two quickly. Drop them on a quiet side road. There’ll hardly be any traffic over the next couple of days, so it’ll be ages before they’re found.”
Bernard liked the sound of it. It seemed the logical thing to do, and the smell was burning into his sinuses. A junction loomed ahead and he flicked his indicator to turn off. “May as well start here,” he said, slowing down and pulling off the motorway. There wasn’t another soul on the road but he took the first left down an equally quiet road, followed by a series of further left and right turns. He silently hoped he’d manage to navigate his way back to the motorway. When he was satisfied they were remote enough, he pulled into a layby. With no streetlamps, it was pitch black.
Turning to Rob, he said, “Get the smelly young one out of here. She reeks.”
Rob opened his door and walked around the back of the van. As the hired muscle, he had a part to play. He yanked the door open and reached a strong arm out to the smallest child, pulling her forcibly forward. She did her best to scream from behind the tape covering her mouth, but Rob ignored her distress, pulling her towards the open door like she was an old suitcase.
“I’d have thought you’d want to get out,” Bernard shouted spitefully as the child stood awkwardly at the rear.
Rob closed the doors. The girl stood shaking, obviously petrified, in the darkness. Icy rain pelted them both, and Rob didn’t want to hang around any longer getting soaked. Bending down to her level to speak into her ear, he hissed, “And don’t ever think about telling anyone where you’ve been or who with. Remember, we’ll know where to find you again and come and get you. Now get walking,” he added threateningly, before getting back into the van and leaving her standing there with her hands bound behind her back, the pillowcase sticking wetly to her head. If she was lucky, a car might be along later, though he doubted it. By tomorrow, Christmas Day, she’d probably have collapsed from exposure.
Back in the van, Bernard said, “Only two more to go. I’ll be a happier man when they’ve both been turfed out.”
They drove in silence as the rain lashed down, the windscreen wipers working double time. As they hit West Sussex, Bernard again spoke.
“We’ll get rid of one here, then it’s not far to East Sussex for the last one.”
“They are the same county. That won’t work,” Rob protested.
“You thick or what? They are two different counties, dumb shit. We’ll drop one here, then it’s not far to East Sussex.”
“I’m telling you, it’s the same county.”
“Well, since I’m driving,” he spat “and since I’m the brains in this duo, I’m telling you it’s two counties, and we’ll drop one in each. Now shut the hell up!”
There was no point in arguing, so Rob didn’t bother, and when the time came to turf the second girl out on a quiet, wet road, he left her with the same warning in her ear. Half an hour later, the third and last girl, the young woman had been offloaded and left stranded in the pitch black and cold rain to fend for herself. The van was empty now save for Rob and Bernard.
“Thank god for that. Apart from the stink, I didn’t want a nosey cop pulling us over and taking a look. That would have been awkward,” Bernard joked. The mood in the van was somewhat lighter now. “Now, where are we headed, oh bright one?” he mocked.
Rob really wasn’t sure of the answer. “A cheap motorway stop with a Macca’s, I reckon. I’m starved.”
As the van drove on towards the north, well away from the house they’d left burning behind them, three frightened girls began to make their way along three dark, deserted roads.
The first child, Kate, struck lucky first.
Chapter Forty-Six
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” the woman asked, sounding dubious. She was starting to regret her decision to leave the part
y. They’d been flirting across the room at each other all night when he’d finally wandered over, wearing a cocksure smile on his face. With several vodkas in her stomach and not much to soak it up with, confidence had come more easily than normal, and they’d eventually found themselves entwined in a hot, sticky embrace. He’d suggested they get some air and find a nice secluded layby, and she’d agreed readily, both knowing exactly what was to come next, both up for it.
“This will do,” he decided, and took a long pull on the vodka bottle they were sharing. He passed it back to his conquest to be, who politely laughed a little in return. He pulled off the road into the layby, loose gravel crunching under the tyres, rain soaking the windscreen. He’d no idea where they were exactly, but he’d figure out how to get back when they were done. He turned to the woman.
“Right, then. Where were we?” he asked encouragingly, lowering his face towards hers and opening his mouth in anticipation of receiving her tongue. She smiled at his words and though he couldn’t see her clearly in the darkness, he felt her relax a little more, tasting lingering vodka as their mouths mashed together hungrily.
As their urgency progressed to another level, they were unaware of a small figure venturing towards them on the remote road, weaving unsteadily as it struggled to progress. It eventually made its way past the stationary vehicle, sobbing quietly, unaware there was anyone inside it who could help, ease its distress and pain, make its warm again. The little figure would have to wait a while longer.
When the young couple finally finished having their fun and were making their way back towards the party, it was the woman who spotted the figure in the headlights first. It was hard not to: it was wandering in the centre of the road.
“Look!” she exclaimed, pointing out through the windscreen. The figure could have been a ghost from a horror movie.
“What the . . .?” the man said as they approached it and slowed down. In the headlights it looked eerie.
“It’s too short to be an adult. Pull over,” the woman instructed. “It looks like they’ve got a bag or something on their head.” She turned to open her door.
“What you gonna do?”
“Take a look, stupid. That’s no practical joke,” she said pointing at the figure, which had stopped in the near distance.
“You’ll get soaked,” the man protested.
Not waiting to give a reply, she climbed out of the warm car and into the icy rain, headed towards the figure, leaving him sitting in the driver’s seat watching. She called out to the figure.
“Hello. Are you alright?” As she approached, she could see with the light from the car headlamps that the figure was no bigger than a child, a child with what looked like a bag of some description on its head, and who was soaked and visibly shaking. She ventured closer, doing her best to make her voice sound comforting.
“It’s alright. I’m going to come a little closer, okay? I’m not going to hurt you.” Rain continued to pelt down around them both. Her own clothes were soaked now and she wished she’d brought a coat with her. Instinctively, she put her arm out towards the small figure, as though she was enticing a dog to come closer, except this dog couldn’t see her gesture.
“I’m almost there now. Don’t be scared,” she encouraged again. When her outstretched hand finally made contact with the small figure’s shoulder, she heard what sounded like a muffled sob. Continuing to talk quietly, she gently lifted the soaked bag off the figure’s head, then drew back in alarm. Two swollen and terrified eyes stared back up at her. Grey tape was fastened across the child’s mouth. It was a young girl.
“Dear god,” she exclaimed quietly to herself as she bent down to the girl’s level. Gently she peeled the tape off the tiny mouth and spoke again.
“My name is Jess, and whatever has happened to you, you’re safe now. Can you tell me your name?” Jess watched as the child’s bottom lip trembled uncontrollably and she waited patiently. But the child was too terrified to speak and stood mute, petrified with fear, as Jess tried again to reassure her. Noticing the child’s hands were bound behind her back, Jess removed the tape from her wrists and rubbed each one gently to return the circulation.
“There, that must be better. Let’s get you out of this rain, shall we? Then we can get you warmed up and get some proper help, let your parents know you’re alright, eh?”
Still nothing from the lips of the tiny child as Jess bent to pick her up and take her back to the car, talking gently as she walked in an effort to reassure the little one that everything was going to be alright. The man opened the rear car door and Jess and the child got inside. They were both soaked.
“Take your jumper off,” she directed the man. “She’s deathly cold, poor mite.” He did as he was told and watched as Jess draped it around the child’s shoulders.
“Police station, I think, or hospital? What do you think?”
“Hospital, I reckon. I don’t want to go anywhere near the police. I’m over the limit by miles.”
“Whatever. Hospital then. This poor girl needs some help quickly, so get your foot down, will you?”
And with rain lashing down from the blackness above, little Kate Bryers was taken to the nearest hospital.
Her nightmare ordeal was finally coming to an end.
Chapter Forty-Seven
“So where are we heading now?” Rob asked Bernard, who was busy steering with one hand and fumbling for his cigarettes with the other. The van swerved across to the next lane as he pulled them free from his inside jacket pocket. It was a good job the M25 was quiet for a change.
“Back home, I’d say. No point going back to the house. There’s nothing there. You want dropping somewhere?” A plume of blue smoke filled the driver’s side as Bernard took a couple of heavy drags on his cigarette.
“Back to my flat, I suppose.”
“I ain’t driving all the way over there at this hour. I’m not a bleedin’ taxi service, you cheeky sod.”
Rob figured as much, but thought he’d ask anyway. On Christmas Eve at such a late hour there wouldn’t be much in the way of public transport, and taxis would likely be scarcer still. He’d have to chance the train. Or thumb a lift.
“Drop me at the train station, then. I’ll get home from there. Leatherhead isn’t far from here.”
Bernard grunted in reply, sounding like the Neanderthal he was. It had been a stressful night and both men were anxious about what had happened. With no proper plan in place and having made it up as they went along, there was ample room for error, something neither of them was particularly happy about. But there was no going back and changing things now. It was way too late. They’d have to pray the trail didn’t snake back to their front doors.
“Look,” said Bernard, stubbing his fag butt out under his foot on the dirty rubber mat. There must have been at least another twenty more with it. “We should steer clear of each other for a while, lay low. I’m going to get the hell out of Dodge, maybe catch the train to France, hide out there or move further south. I suggest you do the same. It’ll only be a matter of time before they find the house, and Martin’s body.”
At the mention of Martin, Rob waited a moment before adding, “Yeah, probably a good idea. What a bloody mess, though. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. There wasn’t meant to be any real trouble,” he said, his voice rising with each word, his anger mounting. “That’s what you both said: nobody would get hurt. But they did.”
“Oh, stop being so dramatic, would you? We’ll both be out of it soon enough. And Martin? Well, he was collateral damage, unfortunate, like. So stop blubbering and figure out what you’ll do to keep clear of the shit that will undoubtedly start flying.” Bernard reached into his pocket again for another cigarette and struggled to light it. The motorway was almost empty as he swerved out of his lane for the second time then corrected his steering. The pull on the wheel jolted Rob, who had been busy gazing through the side window, deep in thought.
“What the—?” he yelled as he righ
ted himself in his seat.
But Rob wasn’t the only one who noticed the van swerving. Two cars behind sat a motorway patrol car, the officers minding their own business as they made their way back to the station at the end of their shift. Rob spotted it in his side mirror, but it was too late. As he opened his mouth to tell Bernard, blue light reflected around the inside of the van as the patrol car gained, then pulled alongside them in the adjacent lane. Bernard glanced across at it. The driver signalled for him to pull over.
“You’ve no choice, have you?” Rob said, defeated. “We’re hardly going to outrun them in this pile of crap. This isn’t an episode of The Bill, more’s the pity.” Bernard wasn’t convinced, however, and carried on, the siren from the police car sounding harsh to their ears as it reverberated around the tin can of a van.
Rob had another go. “Pull it over! Don’t be a dumbass. We’ll never get away, so let’s see what they do. Might be nothing.”
That seemed to pacify Bernard; they might only want him over for a rear light out or something equally trivial. He flicked his indicator to pull over and drifted to a stop on the hard shoulder. Both men sat silently, waiting. In the vehicle behind them, they knew the officer would be doing a vehicle check and both men hoped it didn’t throw up anything that they couldn’t handle.