The Vine Cross (The Vine Series Book 1)

by S P Dawes

  His imagination ran on overdrive. He’d read everything he could find on Demy and Paul, and nothing he read allowed him to be optimistic. The visions in his head of finding her dead, ripped apart made it impossible to sleep. The darkness was where she haunted him. Knowing what Demy had done to her in the past, only made him more fearful. People got worse, not better, and they rarely cared about the emotions of their victims, especially when they’d already proved their power. Power was a living being and needed nurturing. She would be its unwilling participant and fuelling that monster would not work in anyone’s favour. Least of all her own. She had already stood up to him once, he’d make her pay, that was for sure. Picking up his phone, he dialled Martin.

  “Any news?” Asked Jesse impatiently, bobbing his left knee up and down just as his Mum walked in brandishing a cup of coffee.

  “No, we’ve just had the operations meeting, so everyone’s cracking on.”

  Jesse smiled meekly as his mum placed the cup in front of him. He let her return to the kitchen before speaking again.

  “He put the photo up you gave us.”

  Jesse rolled his eyes, that meant he was a hot topic today. “I don’t care as long as they find her,” he sighed, rubbing his face, which felt like old leather.

  “I know, just thought you should know.”

  Jesse didn’t know what else to say. He understood Martin couldn’t tell him anything even if he knew, but it didn’t sound like he did, and that was worse. “I have to go. Look, I’ll call the second we have something, OK?”

  Jesse threw his phone on the table in frustration.

  Marie on walking back in handed him an envelope addressed to him. “This just arrived.”

  Jesse took it. Opening it, he pulled out a photo of a girl from one of his old cases. She looked happy, sat on a bench with a drink in her hand, smiling at the camera posing.

  “Who is it?”

  Jesse glanced at his Mum, vacantly. He shook his head, then covered his face with his hands and leant back on the sofa. He didn’t want to think about any of his cases right now; they drew too many similarities.

  Why was somebody sending photos to him? Picking his phone back up, he took a picture of it and sent it to Martin with a text explaining that he’d just received it in the post. Two seconds later, Martin messaged back with a question mark.

  “You and me both, Buddy,” said Jesse to no one in particular.

  Realising he couldn’t sit in a funk all day, and doing nothing wasn’t an option with so much spinning around in his head, he began a crime board in his bedroom mapping Hayley’s life out, as he knew it. Which after a while he realised wasn’t a great deal; he needed help. Walking into the kitchen, he picked up his keys from the table when Rob came bursting through the door.

  “I suppose you know?” Shouted Rob.

  Jesse looked at him. He wasn’t in the mood for a fight, or at least not with his brother, anyway. “They’ve arrested her.”

  Jesse shrugged, not looking Rob in the eye. He felt broken and vulnerable, and his brother needed to move out of his way.

  “What’s she supposed to have done?”

  Jesse could feel anger shaking his last nerves, attempting to hold his temper, he tightened his jaw and looked up at him.

  “I need to go, Rob.”

  “You’re not going anywhere till I get some answers,” Rob squared up to his brother.

  “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

  Marie opened the door to the kitchen with a basket of laundry in her arms. Looking from one to the other she could feel the atmosphere, Jesse lowered his head.

  “Do you know what he’s done?” Rob asked Marie, clearly upset and wanting some kind of retribution.

  Marie glanced at Jesse before answering, but he wasn’t giving anything away, he just looked beaten. It bruised her heart to see him that way. “I think you need to calm down, Rob,” offered Marie placing the laundry on the table before gently walking towards him.

  “Calm down! Calm down! He’s had my fiancé in a cell all night and you want me to calm down?!” Rob’s neck was throbbing from the pulse below it.

  “Hayley’s missing,” said Marie calmly, in a way of an explanation.

  Jesse shifted uncomfortably; eager to leave. He didn’t want to be here dealing with this, nor did he feel remorse for Caitlyn, but Rob was his brother and he loved him. He was also poking a hornet’s nest, and he needed to back off.

  “So what?” Rob held his hands out, as if the answer might drop into them from above.

  Jesse’s last nerve snapped. Grabbing hold of Rob by the scruff of the neck, he slung him up against the door with such force it took his brother’s breath away. “So what? She’s with the guy who gave her those fucking scars!”

  Rob’s face turned a shade paler, realisation dawning on him as to the horror upon her.

  “Your girlfriend presented her to him,” Jesse was seething, unable to stop the tears forming as he stared at his brother’s shocked face. “And furthermore, he has connections to human trafficking.”

  The room had fallen silent; he released his vice like grip and turned to his Mum staring on worried about what would happen next. Letting go, he stepped back. Grabbing the door handle, Rob shifted his weight, placing his foot behind it, so Jesse couldn’t leave. Jesse looked up to yell at him.

  “How do you know?” Asked Rob, remorsefully.

  “Get out my way,” answered Jesse, yanking the door open as Rob stepped away.

  When he reached the ramshackle house, he parked a little beyond, so as not to look too obvious just in case detectives were about to turn up. He’d have more than a wrist slap if they found him there.

  Knocking on the door, scanning the street as he waited, he could see kids milling around on their way to school. Turning back to the sound of the latch opening, he noted the familiar-looking man stood in front of him, still in the same old clothes.

  He pushed his way in. “Mr Baxter, I need to speak with you.”

  Jesse watched him scan the street before closing the door. When he did, he offered Jesse a seat. Sitting down on the old beat-up armchair, Derek took the sofa. The air was musty, and the curtains were drawn. It was clear he’d been living on his own for a while, empty cigarette packets and beer cans scattered the floor.

  “I told you all I knew yesterday,” he explained before Jesse could open his mouth.

  “I’m not here as a copper,” Jesse replied, looking at him, as though he was trying to read the other man’s thoughts.

  “You’re her fella?” He announced as if it had just dawned on him, then watched the man sigh and lean back in the chair like he had given up all hope.

  “How did you know Demy was after her?” Jesse asked, watching her dad smirk before answering, gazing at the table in front of him.

  “Because he’s obsessed with her, he always was.”

  “Why?” This time her dad looked at him and raised his eyebrow.

  “She’s beautiful. He had his eyes on her the minute we arrived, and she was the only thing keeping us here.” Hayley had described trying to get away, that her father was the one who refused to leave.

  “What do you mean, keeping you here?” Asked Jesse.

  “He wanted her, always had, and because of the financial trouble I was in, I needed the cash.” Jesse frowned. Had he heard him correctly?

  “Are you saying he paid you for her?”

  Mr Baxter looked away, ashamed. “I know how it sounds. But she liked him too. I thought he was what she needed.”

  Jesse felt his fists shake, not realising he’d even clenched them.

  “She was going to keep house. I thought one day I’d have grandkids,” he smiled at the thought, but the expression on Jesse’s face made him stop.

  “You sold her?” Jesse asked, the disbelief and disgust clear in his voice.

  “No. They paid me to keep myself out of trouble; I had a drink problem back in the day. They helped clean me up.”

  Jesse
couldn’t be sure they had helped; he could still smell the lingering stench of alcohol mixed with body odour.

  “He took Hayley, kept her safe, so she could get on with her life. I’m no good for her.” At least they could agree on something.

  “Did Hayley agree to that?” asked Jesse, knowing full well she hadn’t.

  “She was immature, she didn’t know what was best for her. Young girls never do,” he offered, talking as though they should be friends.

  “She was fourteen!” Jesse could not stop the rise in his voice.

  “She was ripe,” Mr Baxter replied, as if that answered everything.

  Jesse felt the rage build up in his stomach at the knowledge he thought no more of Hayley than a piece of fruit. Trying to unclench his hands, he took a deep breath. He couldn’t beat this man to a pulp if he wanted to stay out of prison long enough to help Hayley, but he was finding it damn hard not to allow his fists to wreck damage on the parasite in front of him. Jesse shook his head in a quandary. “She was ready to have children, her body said so.”

  “You mean you’d been waiting for her to menstruate?” asked Jesse, perplexed, feeling sick.

  “It’s God’s way of showing us she’s ready. I don’t need some out-of-date law telling me when my daughter’s able to conceive.” Jesse could barely get his head around a father treating his daughter as though she was only cattle fodder.

  “But she didn’t,” said Jesse. Wondering if that’s what had made her a disappointment to him?

  “She did.”

  Jesse looked at him, surprised. She’d not told him she had a kid and if she had, where was it?

  “Seems there were complications,” he added.

  “What complications?” asked Jesse, wondering where this story was going. What else had they done to her? Mr Baxter leant forward, resting his arms on his knees, hands clasped together as though he was teaching a lesson.

  “She lost it. She was young, lacked the ability to protect it. Like I said, she needed guidance.”

  “What do you mean?” Jesse asked, suddenly feel a shock of ice shiver down his spine.

  “She betrayed her husband.”

  Jesse thought about getting out. The police were probably on their way, and he couldn’t sit in the same room with this guy for much longer without wrapping his hands around his throat.

  “She threw herself down the stairs.”

  Jesse could hardly blame her; he just wasn’t sure whose death she’d attempted to cause.

  “She was young, she struggled with the entire marriage thing, didn’t have her mum to look up to. So, she didn’t understand what they expected of her. We all thought she was heading for some kind of episode.”

  “We?” Asked Jesse.

  “The church,” he answered.

  “Then what happened?” Jesse wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know the answer, especially when murderous thoughts were presenting themselves in his head.

  “Her husband was protective, said he’d heal her, get her back on the righteous path.”

  Jesse’s stomach churned remembering her husband’s handy work.

  “He knew what was best for her. I’ve known the family for years, they’re good God-fearing people, and they’ve given her every opportunity to do the right thing.”

  “How did she get away?” Asked Jesse. He couldn’t listen to anymore rubbish about women’s places. Maybe if he found out how she had escaped last time, he’d feel more optimistic about her survival this time round.

  “There was a fight. She hit him, knocked him unconscious, I believe.”

  Jesse’s heart would have bled if he gave a toss; it was only unfortunate it hadn’t left lasting damage.

  “She went wild, ran, she tried to drag her sister along but Lynnie’s a good girl, she knew which side her bread was buttered on.” He smiled with pride at the thought of his other daughter. It only made Jesse hate him more.

  “Where’s Lynnie?” Jesse would need to speak to her. She might know more about what was going on. Maybe Hayley had confided in her.

  “With her husband.”

  “Yeah, where?” Jesse was growing impatient, feeling as though he was being led up the garden path. He wanted answers.

  “Russia.”

  Jesse held his head in his hands despondently.

  “Don’t suppose you have a number?” He watched her father shake his head, trying to restrain himself from lunging at him.

  Walking over to the door, he reached it before spinning round to Mr Baxter’s words.

  “She needs someone who can put her in line, she’s a wild horse, that one. No good to no man if you ask me, far too much spirit.”

  Jesse grabbed on to the handle as hard as he could and swung it open, facing Martin and DC Fraser. Martin saw him and sighed heavily, shock and then disappointed written on his face. The detective’s looked at one another and then back to Jesse, who stepped out pushing past them, marching to his car.

  Martin ran after him, catching up with him whilst D.C Fraser waited at the opening. “Jesse, you can’t do this.”

  Jesse pressed the button on his key and the lights flashed.

  “Jesse!”

  Pulling his car door open, he got in.

  Martin grabbed the front passenger door. “Jesse, you’ll do more damage than good.” Martin watched him place the key in the ignition before asking, “did he say anything?”

  Jesse glanced at his friend this time; Martin detected the anger in his eyes and intense pain, stabbing an icy spear through his own heart. “The fucker sold her!”

  Martin looked away as he heard his friend’s voice catch on the words.

  “She was pregnant but tried to get rid, only for her family to hand her back to the man that…” Jesse hung his head trying to centre himself. “He’s a cold-hearted bastard!”

  “Did he give you anything on her whereabouts?”

  Jesse shook his head, whilst tightening his jaw, attempting to hold back tears.

  “There’s a sister called Lynnie, apparently she’s in Russia,” offered Jesse. “No contact details.”

  “OK, we’ll have a go. Go home!” Martin slammed the door and watched his friend drive away.

  Jesse arrived at the convenience store he’d seen Demy come out of. Walking in, the bell above announced his arrival. A man in his sixties appeared from behind the counter. Jesse pretended to look around. Seeing no CCTV, only a mirror in the back corner that faced the counter, and well-stacked shelves, he grabbed himself a ham sandwich from the chill cabinet. Plonking it down on the top, he placed a five-pound note next to it. The cashier ran the amount through the till and opened the drawer.

  “I’m looking for a man, wondered if you could help?”

  The shopkeeper raised his eyebrow, listening as he sorted his change. “Wrong type of establishment,” he quipped.

  “His name’s Dmitri Richards,” the man froze for a second and then carried on counting Jesse’s change out. “Do you know him?”

  “Why would I?” Asked the man.

  “I saw him come in here yesterday,” answered Jesse

  “Lots of people come in,” the man shrugged.

  “He’s about yay high,” he replied, placing his hand level just above his own head, “Olive skinned, dark hair…”

  “Like I said, a lot of people come in here.”

  “He left with a suitcase though,” Jesse continued, undeterred by his unhelpful manner.

  “Are you the police?” Asked the man, clearly irritated.

  Jesse didn’t answer. Thinking about the best way to handle it; the last thing he needed was for his supervisor to hear he’d been sniffing around a case he was no longer part of.

  “Right, well then, if you don’t mind,” he said pointing to the door.

  Jesse almost reached for his warrant card and then thought better of it, turning round and walking out.

  Back in the incident room another call had come in. A young woman’s body had just turned up. Martin and Fraser
took it, and met with Tom Fallon, the pathologist at the scene, exchanging pleasantries as they glanced at the sheet-covered remains.

  “Shit!” said Martin after raising the cover from her head. Dropping it, he stood up. He hadn’t been expecting that, and his stomach rolled. Fraser looked at him, but he just shook his head whilst trying to fight the nausea washing over him. The Pathologist moved his mask off his mouth.

  “Sorry about that, I should have warned you this one’s different.”

  “Are there any ties to the others?” Asked Martin, wondering why someone had even requested him, especially as urgently as they had. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have enough on his plate. Although DI Tinker was now in charge of the case. He had more of a prior involvement and as such was due to report back his findings to the DI on his return, he was leading it in all but name.

  Tom nodded. “Afraid so, that brand I was told to keep an eye out for, it’s reappeared again, but this time it’s fresh.”

  Martin screwed his face up, he didn’t understand, why would a killer change his M.O. Fraser lifted the sheet to see what the fuss was about. Someone had mutilated her. Left barely recognisable, someone had slit her mouth on either side, reminding him of the joker character from D.C comics. Also, they had removed her eyes. He pulled the sheet higher to see that she was also naked, with a visible slit across her stomach, just like all the others.

  “Sexual assault?” Asked Fraser, replacing the sheet.

  “I’d have to check back at the lab to be certain, but I’d say so. This is a lot more savage than the others, and then you’ve got that brand on her back. Mind boggles, but I guess that parts up to you guys.”

  Martin regained his breakfast from heading out his mouth and lifted the sheet as he knelt down, so he could have a proper look at what they had. She was around twenty, brunette, white, no tattoos or distinguishing features, apart from those inflicted. “Looks like he lost it with this one, but why?”