Sweet Oblivion

by Rhiana Ramsey

  Eventually, he stopped screaming and his struggling became feeble. She slid off him and pressed her feet against his body, using her legs like levers to push him off the bed. He fell with a thud onto his side, the momentum of her push propelling him onto his stomach, the spike piercing ever deeper into his skull, and then over onto his back where he finally came to rest, the metal strut standing proud in his eye socket like a flag of accomplishment at the North Pole.

  He twitched and spasmed as the last life drained out of him, a pool of blood collecting around his head as it ran in rivulets from his ears and eyes. She had done it, she had killed him. She felt tears well up in her eyes as she realised that she was free, he couldn’t hurt her anymore, he would never put those filthy perverted hands on her ever again, he would never again take her riding, never again sell her out to other men for their pleasure. She had won, she was victorious and he had paid with his life.

  She stopped crying, using the backs of her bloodied hands to wipe the tears away, crimson smudges marking her cheeks, and ran to the bottom of the stairs where she listened intently for a moment for any noise; all she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears. She took one last look at his ugly, bloodied body and then she ran up the stairs, ran as fast as she could away from him, away from the cellar and out to freedom.

  Chapter XXII

  Louise turned the key in the lock of her front door wearily. She felt like shit. In fact she felt like shit that had been run over by a 7-ton lorry. She padded into the flat, throwing her keys onto the small table by the front door. It was 08:30am, but the West-facing flat was still dark, the strengthening sun rising on the opposite side of the building. The flat looked how Louise felt. Depressed.

  She’d woken up from her drunken slumber just after six thirty, sweating and scared. She couldn’t remember what she’d been dreaming about but upon opening her eyes and momentarily forgetting where she was, the room unfamiliar, she’d experienced a moment of true fear. Upon remembering where she was, she’d rapidly calmed down, until the memories of the night began to float back into her consciousness.

  What had she been thinking? She’d got drunk, made a pass at Ben and told him way more than she should have. So much for resolving to never let anyone in again. Why couldn’t she just keep her big mouth shut? She felt vulnerable and didn’t like that he knew so much about what had been happening to her. She wished she could turn the clock back and erase the night, suck the words back into her mouth and that stupid kiss. She hoped she hadn’t ruined their friendship.

  She’d got up then, gingerly, her head pounding, pressing her fingers against her eyes in a vain attempt to massage away the pain. She’d wandered through the house calling out for Ben, receiving no reply. In the living room she found a note, scribbled in Ben’s hurried, spidery scrawl.

  Gone to work. Help yourself to anything you want in the fridge etc. Take as much time off as you need. Will call you later. P.S - How’s the head? x

  She hadn’t taken up his invitation to raid the fridge, preferring instead to just get out of the house as quickly as she could, away from the reminders of last night and her embarrassment.

  She’d gathered up her stuff and headed down to the tube to make her way home. The service was always slow that early in the morning, as the city began to crawl back to life, but for once she hadn’t minded. She was in no fit state to hurry anyway; it was taking most of her concentration just to navigate the stairs and subways.

  And now she was home. She flopped down on the sofa, kicked off her shoes and rested her head against the back rest. She sighed. What a mess she had become, a drunken, exhausted mess.

  The mixture of emotions she was feeling was confusing; she was sad about Steve, angry about Melissa, furious at herself for hitting on Ben, scared about the visions and perplexed by her lack of memory. All in all, the combination of these various sentiments just left her feeling depressed. She didn’t recognise herself.

  There was a knock at the front door, strong, purposeful. She opened her eyes and considered getting up, then decided that she couldn’t be bothered.

  Just some peace, that’s all I want!

  ‘Miss Jackson?’ a voice called out. ‘Open the door please!’

  She frowned and lent forward in her seat.

  Who the fuck - at this time? She didn’t recognise the voice.

  The knocking continued.

  ‘Miss Louise Jackson! Open the door please. It’s the police!’

  Now she was worried. What the hell had happened?

  She pushed herself off the sofa and went to the front door, opening it rapidly, startling the two plain-clothes officers that stood before her brandishing their warrant cards as identification.

  ‘Miss Jackson?’ the first copper asked, returning his badge to his jeans pocket as he spoke.

  He was about 40 years of age with thick sandy-blond hair, blue eyes and a muscular physique. Stubble littered his chin giving him a rugged, masculine look, but the dark circles under his eyes indicated that he hadn’t shaved due to a lack of time caused by an early start rather than for aesthetic purposes. Cute.

  ‘Yes, that’s me. What’s wrong? What’s happened?’ she asked, alarmed.

  The second officer spoke now: ‘Hello Miss Jackson, can we come in for a moment?’ He was younger than his colleague and almost polar opposite in terms of appearance; overweight, dark haired, dark eyed and clean shaven.

  Not so cute.

  ‘What’s this about?’ Louise asked.

  ‘We’re from Devon and Cornwall Police. We’ve received an allegation of assault…’ the cute copper replied.

  ‘Assault?’ she asked, confused. Then the penny dropped. ‘Ah. I think I know what this is about.’

  The second copper spoke again: ‘I am arresting you on suspicion of assault against Miss Melissa Vines. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention…’ he prattled off the caution.

  Louise bowed her head and began to snicker to herself, she couldn’t believe this was happening. The whole situation was ridiculous and she couldn’t help but wonder when her life would get back onto an even keel. What else could happen to her?

  ‘You can’t be serious. Melissa called you guys? You’ve had to come all the way up here for this?’

  ‘Yes, the alleged assault occurred in our jurisdiction, so we have to investigate it. Please come with us. We’re going to take you to the local police station for a chat on tape. They know we’re coming,’ the cute officer said.

  ‘Fine. Just let me put my shoes on. I can’t believe this. Did she tell you why I hit her?’ Louise asked.

  ‘Please don’t discuss this with us now Miss Jackson. There’ll be plenty of time for that at the station. You are under caution,’ the second officer reminded her.

  She looked at him, debated making a snide retort, then thought better of it. She pulled on a pair of boots, picked her keys back up and closed the front door. In the hallway the second officer placed her in handcuffs, taking hold of her arm as if she would flee from him.

  ‘Is that really necessary?’ she asked him. ‘Where exactly am I going to run to and why would I?’

  ‘No offence Miss Jackson, but I don’t know anything about you and sometimes people do strange things when they’re under arrest. You’ll be wearing these until we get to the station.’

  The officers escorted her out of the building and towards the unmarked police car on the other side of the road. She felt like a criminal. How much lower could she sink?

  ************************************************

  The briefing room was buzzing. DI Scott had called everybody in. The congregating detectives knew he must have something big to tell them as he had gone back on his word about most of them not needing to come in until the afternoon. Despite their tiredness, they were all chirpy and excited, hoping that maybe there had been a break in the case.

  Elizabeth yawned widely, not bothering to cover her mouth.

  ‘Dear
God, it’s like looking into the jaws of hell,’ Greg declared, frowning with disapproval.

  ‘I’m too tired to care about your sensitivities Monsieur Hampton. I was up most of the night taking a statement from our latest victim’s gorgeous flat mate, whilst you were most probably snoring your big fat head off,’ she grinned at him.

  ‘Oh really? I’ll have you know I also had a late night.’

  ‘Yeah, but you weren’t working. Let me guess… pub?’

  He grinned back, his silence speaking volumes.

  ‘Yeah, see? No excuse. Self-inflicted equals what?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘No sympathy, that’s what,’ Elizabeth stated smugly.

  Greg pouted at her and feigned disinterest.

  ‘What do you think the guv’s got to tell us?’ JB asked as he slipped into a seat behind them. He looked exhausted, his face drawn and pale, his eyes red rimmed.

  ‘No idea, but it had better be good,’ Greg said.

  ‘You know it will be,’ Elizabeth retorted. ‘He wouldn’t have brought us in early otherwise.’

  ‘Yeah you’re right. It must be a lead,’ Greg proposed.

  ‘I bloody hope so. This case is a nightmare. I don’t think I’ve ever worked on one that has been so forensically challenged,’ JB declared. ‘Have you?’

  ‘No, this killer is definitely in another league,’ Elizabeth said. Greg nodded in agreement.

  ‘Elizabeth would know. Ask her what happens to all her boyfriends and why we never see them again once she’s introduced them to us? In her freezer, that’s where you’ll find them…’ Greg teased.

  ‘When did you look in my freezer?’ Elizabeth asked, in mock surprise.

  The detectives laughed together, enjoying the moment of light-heartedness.

  Robert walked in and an anticipatory hush descended upon the room. All eyes were on him trying to assess from his demeanour whether the news they were about to hear would be good or bad, whether it would mean another long day for them, or whether they would be able to go home and spend some time with their families.

  Robert’s body language wasn’t giving much away. He walked straight over to the ‘brain board’ as they called the white board at the front of the room, which was covered with pictures and diagrams, theories, names and places, all pertaining to the bondage killer enquiry. It was fully up to date, photos of Mark Faversham included, the board having been updated by Becca first thing that morning.

  ‘David Saunders, Mark Faversham. Both into bondage, both highly successful. One married, one single. Different ages, same ethnic background. Both fit and healthy, both wealthy. Both were tied up and mutilated, both had a sharp implement delivered to the eye. One was killed in a London hotel, the other in his own flat. Trophies, in the form of the victims’ genitalia, were taken away from the scene in both cases. Both men appear to have placed a significant amount of trust in the killer. The question is why? Why did these men let a stranger come back with them?’ Robert paused for effect.

  He had their attention and he could see their minds turning over what he had said, pondering possibilities.

  ‘Perhaps she was just too good to resist?’ said JB.

  ‘Or I’m guessing that maybe because she’s a woman they don’t feel threatened by her,’ said Tony Jessop.

  ‘Or maybe they had met before,’ murmured Greg.

  ‘The truth is that it could be any one of those things or a combination of all of them. There’s a code of conduct in these places, you don’t engage with each other out of role, people don’t give their real names and secrecy ties all the participants. Basically, you don’t blab,’ Robert said, amused despite himself at their surprised faces. ‘How do I know this?’

  ‘The question was going through my mind guv,’ Elizabeth smiled.

  ‘Well, I went to the Garden last night. I didn’t go in and I hadn’t actually intended on going there, but I stood outside for a while just watching the comings and goings. I got into conversation with a club goer and had quite an interesting chat.’

  Elizabeth and JB looked at each other.

  ‘I thought you wanted us to go there?’ JB asked.

  ‘I did, maybe still do, but once I’d left the Faversham crime scene I wanted to go out and get some perspective. I just wanted to see the place with my own eyes.’

  ‘What else did you find out?’ Tony asked, guessing there had to be more to follow.

  ‘I found out that to get into the club you have to have an invite, which you can only get online. We know David Saunders frequented the Garden at least once because his wife found the club’s business card in his suit pocket. We don’t know where Mark Faversham went Saturday night, but we do know it was a bondage club in the city because he told his flat mate, but I’m going to assume that wherever he went also requires an invite of some sort…’

  ‘I get it - the internet guv. That’s what you’re saying isn’t it? That’s the link between our victims and the killer?’ Elizabeth asked. A murmur went around the room.

  ‘I think it’s an avenue we definitely have to pursue,’ Robert replied.

  ‘Just because you have to download an invitation doesn’t necessarily mean there’s a link between the victims and the killer,’ Greg started, ‘It just means that they all have access to the internet as does almost every UK household.’

  Some of the officers nodded in agreement.

  ‘But are you thinking there are forums, or online chat rooms?’ Elizabeth asked Robert.

  ‘Possibly, we need to check it out. It’s not something I’ve ever looked at online so I don’t know what sort of sites exist.’

  ‘I guess that would make sense. The killer logs on, starts chatting away to a potential victim and then suggests meeting in one of the clubs. She’s the one in control then isn’t she? Because at the end of the day, they have to trust her, sure, but she also has to trust them and know they‘re not going to hurt her. Otherwise she could be putting herself in danger. God the irony!’ Elizabeth declared.

  ‘So what do you want us to do guv?’ Greg asked, already confident he knew the answer and that it would mean a lot of hard work.

  ‘We need to get both of the victims’ computers forensically analysed. I want each machine thoroughly checked, deleted files, saved chat messages, previous internet history, anything and everything contained on those machines is to be looked at,’ Robert began, ‘I’ve arranged for an officer from the high-tech crime unit to come over and assist us with this. He’ll be seconded for the duration of the enquiry.’

  ‘What about their phones? I’m guessing we’re going to want the call data for the phones too to see if there are any common numbers between the victims? And contact lists?’ JB finished.

  ‘Yes definitely,’ Robert agreed.

  ‘Just thinking, and you’ve probably already thought of this, but would it be worth us getting the undercover super computer snoopers on board, given this latest development?’ Greg suggested.

  Elizabeth and JB nodded in approval.

  ‘The covert online investigations team? Absolutely. In fact give them a call after this briefing Greg and tell them the situation. We may need their services, depending on what we find on the computers. If there’s any evidence of a chat room or forum that both our victims used, then certainly we will begin that process.’

  ‘But there may be loads of sites, forums and what have you. The killer could use more than one?’ Elizabeth piped up.

  ‘True, but hopefully the computers will give us something to work with’ Robert replied. ‘By the way Elizabeth, how are you getting on with the database of names of care children?’

  ‘It’s coming together slowly. It’s not complete yet as I’m still waiting for several councils to provide me with the data I need.’

  ‘Ok, good work. One last thing, Tony can you do some digging around this club’s website. The guy told me last night that apparently you have to register if you’re to get an invite to one of the clubs, so the company that runs
the website must have a database of users. We’ll probably need a court production order to get the information released and I expect that most people don’t provide any real details when signing up, but see what you can do, ok?’

  ‘Sure, I’m on it.’ Tony said

  ‘Elizabeth can you find out if there is any council CCTV that covers the street the club is on? Get that downloaded as a priority.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Right team. Let’s get moving on seizing those computers. Two of you to go to the Saunders’ house, two of you to Faversham’s, two to prep and brief the high-tech guy and the rest of you crack on with the other enquiries. Don’t forget to call the IT department before you begin searching for any sex-related sites or they’re going to think you’re all surfing for porn. I don’t want professional standards thinking I run a team of sex addicts who can’t even wait to get home to get their porn fix.’

  Everyone laughed at this.

  ‘Guv, what about the visit to the Garden?’ Elizabeth asked.

  ‘We’re going to hold off for now. Let’s see what else we can dig up first. Besides, from what I gathered yesterday, they’re not going to be forthcoming witnesses. We may follow it up later.’

  Elizabeth was a little disappointed. She looked at JB, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips.

  ‘That’s a shame. I was looking forward to seeing your little puny chicken legs enveloped in PVC,’ she joked.

  ‘Sadly it is not to be, and that pleasure shall have to be saved for you for another day,’ JB laughed.

  ‘Ok everyone. Back here for five o’clock please,’ Robert barked.

  The detectives filed out of the room like pupils dismissed from class, each one hoping that the day’s enquiries would bring them one step closer to the bondage killer.

  Chapter XXIII