by S P Dawes
Hayley stared at him, not sure what he was asking.
“Stand up.”
Standing up, he raised the back of her T-shirt with one hand and pulled down her jeans with the other. There it was: his handy work, his label, his property. Running his fingers over it, feeling the puckered skin, he revelled knowing that he’d put it there. “Still looks good on you.”
Hayley refrained from rolling her eyes.
Demy slapped her bum and then told her to sit down. “We need to collect your things,” he said, placing his palm on her thigh. “Where’s your keys?”
“Caitlyn’s car,” she croaked, remembering she dropped them on her way out of the car.
“No matter. She can pick you stuff up.”
She watched Demy travel down his contacts list and then the phone rang.
“Where you at?” Asked Demy. He made sounds that he was listening, but Hayley couldn’t hear the other speaker. “Deal with it,” he demanded finally and then hung up, dialling another number straight after. “Caitlyn, I need you to go back to her flat and collect her stuff.”
She said something, but it was inaudible to Hayley. Her head was swimming.
“I’ll meet you at the usual place and make sure you’re not followed,” flinging his mobile on the table, he stood up. Walking to the front window, he scanned the street. Just then she remembered she still had two more tablets to take to finish her course of antibiotics, and then almost laughed, cystitis that was the least of her worries.
“OK, upstairs,” he said turning to look at her.
Her eyes widened, frightened.
He liked that look on her, so he smiled. “Don’t panic. You need to do something with that hair and not look like you for a while, there’s hair dye and scissors in the bathroom.”
Hayley stood up and strolled over to the stairs. She didn’t want to cut her hair; she felt stupid, but it had taken long enough to grow back the first time.
“And don’t lock the door.”
She walked upstairs slowly, trying to correct her balance whilst feeling light-headed. Then the world swirled. Reaching the top, she dropped, rolling down until she fell into a crumpled mess at the bottom. Her eyes closed and her chin bloomed red from where she’d hit the step.
He walked over, picking her up, slinging her over his shoulder as if she was a rag doll. He carried her up the stairs, dropping her on the bed. Salivating over her, unable to protest, he undressed her slowly. Taking in every inch of her, rubbing his fingers down her bare skin, watching as the tiny hairs reacted to his touch. Her nipples peaked as he circled them. He could take her now if he wanted to, she’d not even be aware, but it was the struggle he enjoyed. He liked to see her fight, the defiance in her eyes, was what made him hard. Without that, he wouldn’t get the pleasure he deserved.
When she was completely naked and he’d had his time just admiring her. He wrapped the sheets from the surrounding bed, tucking her in as though she was a child. Touching her long brown hair, he sniffed fruit and flowers. She always had smelt good. Taking her clothes downstairs, he threw them in the open fire, splashing a drab of whiskey from a bottle close by on top and then lighting a match from the hearth he set fire to them in the grate. She’d be out for hours, giving him plenty of time to sort things out and ensure their concealment.
“Leon, where’s Hayley?” Martin stood in the custody suite with the door to Leon’s cell open, leaning on the frame.
Jesse was out of sight but could hear the words being exchanged from down the corridor where he was keeping a lookout.
“How should I know?” Shrugged Leon, unfazed.
“Where do you meet Demy?” Asked Martin watching Leon smirk at the mention of Demy’s name.
“Wherever he wants, he tells me,” he answered complacently.
“Can you think of anywhere he’d take her?”
Leon thought about it using a dramatic thinking pose, tapping his head. “A million and one places, but that won’t help you,” he answered, continuing to smirk.
Martin realised this was a waste of time, but he was also trying to pacify Jesse. More often than not, doing something was better than doing nothing.
“For a guy who was running his mouth off earlier, you’ve suddenly gone very quiet.”
Leon just carried on smiling.
“You realise, that if something happens to her, you’ll go down for a lengthy sentence.”
Leon peered at him.
“I’ll make sure of it, personally.”
“But at least I wouldn’t be dead,” remarked Leon.
Martin slammed the cell door shut, locking it.
“He’ll not give us anything, I’m not sure he’d even rely on him to keep quiet. The guy’s a twat.”
“Heard that!” echoed through the door.
Martin put the keys back behind the custody desk.
“We’re running out of time,” said Jesse, before running out of the station and jumping into his car.
Martin watched him leave and hoped he wouldn’t get himself into any more trouble. He wasn’t thinking straight. In the meantime, he should try to gather some more background on Demy.
Jesse pulled up outside Hayley’s home before walking up to the door. When he arrived, it was open. Nuzzling it, he looked up the stairs, quietly stepping until he was on the landing. Realising the living room door was ajar, he shoved it gently.
“What are you doing here?” Caitlyn spun round, visibly shaken. She had carrier bags open with Hayley’s belongings seeping out in front of her on the sofa.
“What’s going on?”
Spying an ornament on the fireplace, she grabbed it, throwing it at him, but he lunged forward, knocking her to the floor. On top of her, he held her arms down. She tried to struggle, but she wasn’t strong enough to get him off her. “I said, what are you doing here?”
“Hayley wanted me to collect some bits for her, she’s leaving,” panicked Caitlyn.
“Why?” Barked Jesse.
“Because she doesn’t want to be with you anymore,” she answered pointedly.
“She couldn’t tell me that herself?” He asked, unconvinced.
“I don’t know. I’m not getting involved. I just said I’d help her out.”
Jesse let go and stood up.
Caitlyn watched him, unsure what he believed and what he didn’t.
“Well, I’m coming with you,” he stated, looking down to her with his hands on his hips.
“No, you can’t,” she panicked, scrambling to her feet.
“Why?”
Caitlyn struggled for an appropriate answer.
“She doesn’t want to see you.”
“I’ll deal with it.”
Caitlyn stood up grabbing two of the bags, Jesse grabbed the others, following her outside.
Slamming the door behind him, he walked over to her car. “I’m following.”
Caitlyn looked flustered, but she wasn’t sure how to get out of the situation she’d found herself in. Throwing the clothes in the boot, Jesse stepped in his own.
Watching Caitlyn pull up outside the warehouse they’d visited previously, he parked on the corner, haphazardly. Observing her, he spied a black 4 x 4 pulling up, skidding on the gravel, having come from the opposite direction. A sizeable man in dark jeans and a T-shirt with a bald head stepped out, walking over to Caitlyn. He clearly pumped some iron, thought Jesse, watching his arms remain arched even when they were moving freely by his sides.
Pulling up the boot, he took the bags out, throwing them on the rear seat of his own. Stepping back in his car, he drove away. Caitlyn looked towards where she knew Jesse would be and then climbed in her own car and reversed out.
Jesse turned the key in the ignition, following the direction of the black 4x4. He caught sight of it just as it approached a roundabout. Jesse phoned through to Martin and brought him up to speed, giving him the route, he was on, and the license plate of the car he was following. Martin said he’d be right behind him.
> Jesse kept a steady distance away from the car in front and tried not to change lanes every time it did, but he was struggling to keep sight of it. Finally, it slipped off the A1 and slowed down, turning corners until it reached a more residential built-up area of Peterborough. Now outside a shop, the car came to a standstill. Jesse found a gap in the cars opposite and parallel parked. The man got out, lifting the bags off the seat, taking them inside the shop. A few minutes later, he came out empty-handed and drove away. Jesse was in two minds, whether to sit and wait or to follow, but he presumed they had sent for her belongings, for a reason.
Martin rang to tell him he was ten minutes away, while Jesse said he was still waiting for movement in the shop.
Jesse watched three or four cars pull up and go inside, but none came out with anything that resembled the bags or the amount of space it would take to conceal them.
Worrying that he was only after a certain item, knowing there would be nothing stopping him from taking it out, essentially making it easier to transport, was making him impatient.
Later, a black Chrysler pulled up outside the convenience store, a man stepped out. He peered through the window screen to get a better look. It was definitely Demy, recognising him from his mug shot. Five minutes later he emerged from the shop with an old battered suitcase. Plenty big enough, thought Jesse. Demy climbed back in. Pulling away, Jesse followed.
Half an hour later Jesse saw Demy pull into a drive, watching him walk into the house, leaving the case in the car. Waiting, he watched traffic drive past one at a time until something blocked the junction further up the road and the traffic came to a standstill. Jesse continued watching as a removal van drove outside the property and remained stationary for a few minutes before moving on once the pile-up had cleared.
Just then he jumped at a tap on the driver’s window, turning to see Martin. “Where is he?”
Jesse pointed to the house.
“We going over?”
Stepping got out of the car, they walked across the road, peering in through the windows downstairs and then wandering round the back. Jesse tried the door, finding it unlocked. Walking in, Martin followed closely behind, ensuring they were as quiet as they could be to remain the element of surprise. But as they strolled around the ground floor and then upstairs, it became apparent no one was there, Martin looked at Jesse confused.
“Shit!” Jesse picked up the wooden dining chair in front of him and threw it at the cupboard under the sink. “The fucking van!” Jesse ran out and lifted the boot to the Chrysler, it was empty. “Fucking bastard!” Slamming it down, he glanced at Martin as he stood on the porch. “There was a fucking removal van, it was the only time I didn’t have eyes on the house. He must have got someone to block the road so it stopped right outside, he must have clocked me.”
“Get in the car, let’s see if we can find it! Gunna struggle to hide a Luton.”
Running over to their cars, they made a move in the direction the van had left.
After scouring as many of the streets as they could, looping back and searching derelict buildings they conceded defeat. They’d have to ask the tech guys to follow the van until they could determine where it had stopped.
“We’ve got no choice, Jesse; this needs to go to Walker.” Martin leant on Jesse’s car bonnet, as he held his head in his hands, cursing himself for being given the slip. “It’s like looking for a virgin in the playboy mansion.”
Chapter 21
“OK guys!” Shouted DCI Walker above the noise, in the operation meeting he’d commandeered early the next morning. The room simmered down and all eyes went to him. “Right, I’m sure you’re all aware that DI Hallam is no longer on this case and I ask you again to ensure all information in this room remains confidential.”
Looking around to gentle nods, he continued.
“I do not want this becoming a playground, so can we keep the conspiracy theories to a minimum please?” Nods went throughout the room. “Right, we have three cases that all seem to be linked in some way, unfortunately that link is now missing, and her name is Hayley Timpson. She’s twenty-one and works at the local spa as a chef. Someone destroyed her home less than two weeks ago. We believe that person had a key, possibly taken from Hayley’s own set. They poured red paint all over the living room.”
P. C Rigger posted the pictures up that the detectives had taken when they had taken the call. “Strange one I know.”
The photos continued to go up. “She moved out and lived with a friend until they redecorated her flat. Since then, we discovered a knife underneath DI Hallam’s car, which had Leon Carter’s finger prints. Who has since been arrested for the distribution of drugs. Whilst in custody he confessed that the person he worked for was Paul Gleeson. Some of you may know that name? He’s invested in the drugs racket that had all sorts of crap loaded in them, and the case that DI Hallam was working on. I know DI Tinker is now on that case and we welcome you.”
He looked over to the junior blond detective and held his hand out to show the room who she was.
“Vice transferred a photograph to D. I Hallam yesterday and that photo...” P.C Rigger placed the print up next to the others. “Is of a brand, a certain gang are using to help identify their product, but now we think they’re using it on girls who are being sent to and from Russia. Yesterday we identified a woman as having had this symbol burnt onto her at age fourteen.”
Everyone in the room took a breath in.
“Hayley Timpson.” He could see the cogs turning round in his work force’s minds. “Yesterday at around 1pm she went missing. The trail has gone cold. We know she was travelling up the A1 towards Peterborough. She made one stop, where the person driving dumped her phone. They drove her to a warehouse, but from there we lose visual. DI Hallam’s other case concerned the deaths of three women with slits across their abdomens. Death was by strangulation, and as far as we’re aware, none of those found, were sexually assaulted. The similarities in personal features seemed to be the only connection in this case until yesterday. Yesterday we were made aware of a brand on one of the murder victims. I’ve had the pictures sent over today, and it’s the same brand Hayley Timpson had burnt on her as a child. It seems unlikely that this is a coincidence. It's on the same part of the body at the bottom of the back, which is approximately 7cm in diameter and is a replica.”
P. C Rigger placed photos up of all the girls and the closeup of the brand. “The same name keeps coming up in all three cases. Dmitri Richards. He’s been a very busy boy or something more is going on here.” He looked across at his team. “We need to know what? More importantly, we need to find Hayley Timpson before she ends up like these girls.” Then he pointed to the pictures of the victims. “I want everyone on this, we have to cross reference everything. The only way we will understand this, is by passing all information on.”
“Has there been any links made between the girls yet?” Asked one officer at the back.
“The girls don’t seem to exist; we can’t find any DNA matches or records. The only link we have is with one of them having the same brand as Hayley, but I’m having the pathologist re-investigate the bodies. It’s not unheard of for people to take extreme measures in covering up identifying marks. Until we’ve determined this isn’t the case, we work with the theory that they are all connected. Speaking with the pathologist, it’s likely the girls’ other injuries could conceal a brand, so he’s going to let me know as soon as he has those results back.”
“Shit!” Exclaimed Martin, feeling responsible for not checking that sooner.
“It’s easily missed. Injuries like drag marks, or severe burns, rarely require more intervention when the signs seem obvious. We’ve had no reason to investigate them more intensively until now. The pathologist can use technology to dig underneath the scar tissue, so as soon as we have those results, we’ll know for sure if we have a pattern.” DCI Walker assured.
“Do we have a picture of Hayley?” Asked one of the other police of
ficers brought in to help.
PC Rigger looked through her pile of paperwork and pulled out the photo DI Hallam had had taken on the beach by a passerby.
Everyone in the room flashed looks. Now they all knew DI Hallam was Hayley’s boyfriend, and why he was no longer present. In the picture he had his arms around her on the beach and her hair was wafting in his face, but they were both smiling. They looked happy and it suddenly hit Martin just how much they meant to each other.
Martin’s throat tightened at the thought of being in the same position as Jesse.
“As you can see, this is very close to DI Hallam, so we treat him as any other loved one, and not as a police detective,” he warned. The room started to murmur and Martin stared at the picture of his friend. “Right, you know what to do. Come on!”
The officers dispersed into their groups and left the office with stacks of folders. DCI Walker walked over to Martin, who was looking despondent.
“You can take some time off,” offered DCI Walker, planting his hand firmly on Martin’s shoulder.
Martin shook his head. “What’s that going to achieve?”
Walker smiled his understanding before turning to leave. “How is he?”
Martin just shook his head.
“We’ll get her back,” he said, slapping Martin on his shoulder again before walking away.
Martin hoped so, he’d not seen his friend this devastated before. He thought losing Rihanna was bad, but this was unbearable, and would undoubtedly change his life forever if they recovered a body.
Jesse sat on the sofa. They had forced him to take compassionate leave before they transferred him back to Mansfield. He’d barely slept, eaten, or spoken. Jesse felt useless, all his energy had depleted, leaving him depressed and sluggish. He knew he couldn’t be in the operations room. But he would work 24/7 if he had to, just to get Hayley back. He wasn’t used to allowing his team to do all the work while he remained on the sidelines. Having the skills and not being able to use them was soul destroying. So was the feeling of guilt regarding the last time he had seen her. He had betrayed her. Did she hate him as much as he hated himself? He’d do anything to have her in his arms again, even if it meant apologising and having to let her go. How could he ever expect her to want to see him again?