by S P Dawes
“Well, as my client has said, she doesn’t know, so we should move on.”
Martin didn’t like solicitors at the best of times, but a young stuck-up woman, hellbent on building brick walls, was grating on his nerves. They had no time to pussyfoot around.
“Miss Carter, do you have any reason to blatantly lie to me?” Asked Martin.
“Detective…” started the solicitor.
Martin stood up and leant across the desk to Caitlyn. “I just want to let you know that when we find out how you’re involved, we will do everything in our power to send you down for the longest amount of time possible. So, you best pray that Hayley Timpson’s body doesn’t turn up, and that when she is discovered, she is alive and well.”
“Detective, are you threatening my client?”
“With the law, yes, yes, I am.” Martin looked at Caitlyn squarely in the face and saw a flicker of something. Was she finally feeling the heavy burden of her lies?
“I had to do it,” Caitlyn blurted out just as Martin had told the tape machine, they were suspending the interview.
“Had to do what?” Martin removed his hand from above the recorder slowly so as not to alarm her, but allow her time to open up while the tape kept playing.
“Miss Timpson, I would advise against…” started her solicitor.
Martin shot her a look and turned back to Caitlyn.
“What did you have to do Caitlyn?”
She had her head down, thinking, probably cursing herself for the outburst, but Martin needed her to carry on. He gently lowered himself back on his chair. “Caitlyn, if they made you to do something, that’s different,” he said calmly. “Has someone threatened you?”
Caitlyn looked up, something flickering on her face. The determination replaced with disappointment and regret. “Jesse made me not tell Rob about the bruises I saw on her, but I should have done, then none of this would have happened.”
Martin slammed his hands on the table and walked out after turning the tape off.
“Tough interview?” Asked DCI Walker, looking up the corridor towards Martin, who was pacing outside the interview room, holding his head, trying not to explode.
Martin just shook his head. He wasn’t sure he could keep his temper enough to respond, so the DCI beckoned him into an empty room, Martin joined him closing the door behind him.
“What’s going on?”
“Caitlyn Carter, sticking to her story that Jesse’s a wife beater.” DCI Walker sat on the table behind him, looking around the room as if gathering inspiration. Martin stood with his head back as far as it would go, staring at the ceiling.
“Are you too close to this to stay objective?” Asked DCI Walker calmly.
Martin met his gaze. “Sir, it’s bollocks!”
“Watch your tone, DS Wells.”
Martin shifted on his feet and stood staring out of the window behind DCI Walker. “I believe Caitlyn Carter is working for Demy Richards, and that part of that job is to set Jesse up for the fall, sir.” He tried to keep his voice level, but the irritation remained.
“I didn’t ask you what you believe, I asked if you could remain objective, impartial. It may be entirely plausible that we have to look into DI Hallam’s life more than you would be comfortable with.”
“If that’s something we have to do, then I’d feel better heading the team that cleared him,”
“What if it was the team that helped convict him?”
Martin looked at DCI Walker and realised he was actually taking the rumours seriously. He wanted to lose it, shout and scream that there was no way Jesse was on the wrong side of the tracks. But that would only show his superior he was right to question his involvement and thus remove him. He’d promised Jesse to take the case and lead it if he could, he would not let him down.
“I can remain impartial enough to do my job, sir, so that justice prevails.” DCI Walker nodded and Martin took his leave.
Chapter 23
Hayley heard the door open as she was looking under the bed in the master bedroom. She was attempting to find any hidden weapons, but she had found nothing. Which should have pleased her, but it also meant she couldn’t get hold of anything to defend herself, either. Standing up, she walked to the doorway, peeking her head around the wall until she could spy the door, but no one was near it. Deciding to go downstairs anyway, she tiptoed until his figure came into view.
“Where have you been?” Asked Demy, having seen her out the corner of his eye as he opened the cutlery draw.
“I was upstairs,” answered Hayley.
“Doing what?”
“I was just making the beds,” she lied; she had done that hours before. Feeling light-headed, she cursed herself for getting up too quick. Suddenly feeling heat rush to her head, she felt as though she was being swallowed up. Her hearing became dense, like drowning in a pool, then the floor came up to greet her.
When she awoke, he had laid her out on the settee, with her feet hanging off the sofa, and her head on a pillow. Attempting to sit up, a heavy arm came across her chest to stop her. Lying back down, she tried focusing on the figure, realising it was Demy’s father, she stiffening under his watchful gaze. He smiled. Demy might scare her, but his father terrified her.
“How you feeling?” He asked, wiping roaming hairs from her face.
Her facial muscles wouldn’t work, so she gave up trying. Handing her a glass of water, she tried to sip it without spilling.
“You took quite a fall.”
She looked around. Where was he?
“Your husband’s worried about you, so he sent for me, I’ve told him to go for a walk,” he answered her as if reading her mind. “I hope we will not be having any more silliness?”
Hayley observed him. She didn’t want a conversation that could get her into trouble.
“I think you’ll be all right, you fainted, have you been eating?”
Hayley shook her head.
“Right, well, there you are then. I’ll make sure he feeds you regularly. An unhealthy mummy makes an unhealthy baby, and we can’t be having that.” He stood up and walked over to the door. “I’ll let him know he can come back in.”
Hayley swung her legs round and sat up on the sofa. Her head still felt like it was full of water, but at least she wasn’t in a heap on the floor anymore. Two minutes after Frank had strolled out, Demy walked in. Oddly, she felt some relief.
“Dad said you’ve not been looking after yourself,” said Demy, walking towards her.
“I didn’t think. I’ve been busy,” she answered. Hayley knew better than to blame him, even though it was entirely his fault. Touching her head, it still felt groggy.
“Yeah, I noticed you’d changed it.” He reported, taking a seat next to her.
“That was what you wanted, wasn’t it?” She asked timidly as he scanned her new hair.
“Yes, just makes you look funny, different, and cheap.”
Hayley thought how offended she’d be if she cared what he thought about her.
“Not sure I like blond.”
Watching Demy walk in the kitchen, she stood observing him cutting a sandwich into triangles. Handing her the plate, she picked one up and bit into it.
“When you’ve eaten that, we can get started.”
Hayley looked up at him in horror, start what?
“Well, the baby won’t create itself,” he declared smiling.
Dread enveloped Hayley, as she attempted to make the sandwich last as long as she could. Aware the result would be the same, knowing she was only preventing the inevitable, but she had no choice about anything else, so he could wait.
Thinking back, she remembered times from before. How much pain he would make her endure just for his own sick pleasure. When she finally placed the last bit of sandwich in her mouth, Demy knelt down. Pulling her legs apart, he fit his wide body within them, staring at Hayley. She struggled to chew the last piece, through the anxiety of what was to come.
Raising his h
ands up her skirt, enjoying every slight movement her body made because of him. “Say it, baby,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck, licking her.
Hayley remained frozen as her stomach rolled.
“Say it!” He urged. She could feel him pushing his weight down on her, pressing her down on the sofa. “Say it!” He growled.
She wanted to cry, but she’d not give him the satisfaction, so she ground her teeth down.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she replied timidly. Fear shone through her voice, and she hated how it betrayed her.
“That you want me.” Demy said with fire in his eyes. “That you’ve had your fun and now you’re back to be my wife,” he declared with menace and self-assurance. “Say that you want me.”
This time he lifted her skirt, so he could see everything, pulling her blouse apart, a few of the buttons flew off and hit the hard wooden floor. Hayley could no longer hold the tears, cascading down her face. She wanted to fight, scream, anything but give in to him, but the fear of what that behaviour would cause was enough to still her hands and clamp her mouth shut. Feeling him pawing her caused her to wretch, so she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to take her mind elsewhere. Trying to maintain her breathing and stop from trembling. Her memory took her to Jesse, which only made her cry more. She had never missed someone as much as she missed him. Fake or not, she’d take what he offered; she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to endure this. He’d broken through her walls and left her softer, she needed to build them back up before she really got hurt.
Demy stood up, zipping his jeans before fastening his belt. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special. Maybe next time you can save the tears,” he added sarcastically.
Hayley opened her eyes and let her bottom lip go from her teeth.
“Kind of ruins the mood,” he informed her smearing blood on her lip. “Go get washed up.”
Hayley watched him walk into the kitchen then shuffled along the sofa to stand up; sore and wobbly, she slowly made her way to the stairs.
Martin stood at the door waiting as Rihanna walked towards the station.
“Blimey Martin, this must be important?” She hinted at the welcoming committee.
“You want to grab a coffee?” He inquired, dismissing her assumption. “Might even throw in a muffin.”
“Thought this was business, not pleasure?” She inquired cautiously, standing in front of him with her briefcase by her side.
“It’s a pleasure to see you,” he said kissing her cheek, “but I’m not positive I want this on record.”
Rihanna looked at him, trying to work out what angle he was going for.
“I’m sure you don’t either,” he added catching Rihanna off guard. Looking a little nervous, she turned and they made their way to a small local coffee shop in town.
Martin brought her latte over to the table she was occupying and sat down in the leather tub chair across from her. The seat was so low he thought he might need a crane to lift him out.
“So, what’s this about?” Asked Rihanna, taking a sip of coffee watching Martin reach into his inside pocket. Pulling a photograph out, he laid it in front of her.
Rihanna looked at it, but she still didn’t understand. “Am I supposed to know one of them?”
Martin pointed to the two figures in the background, so she lifted the photo up and narrowed her eyes to pick out the figures. “So, they have caught me in a shot. What about it?”
Martin regarded her, tapping her high gloss fingernails on the side of the glass, as she placed the photograph back on the table. “Who are you with?” Asked Martin, holding the cup up to his lips. He watched Rihanna shrug. She was no longer looking at him, but concentrating on the figures.
“It’s important, Rihanna, who is she?”
Rihanna leant back in the chair, gazing out of the window. “Why?”
Martin was growing impatient. He could tell she was circling him, trying to figure out what she would get herself into. Martin sighed; he would have to be straight with her if she was going to give him everything. “Someone’s kidnapped her, and this picture has come to light,” said Martin. “I think someone is trying to set Jesse up, so if you know anything?”
“It’s clearly not intended to show me,” she answered, pointing to the photograph.
“But you’re there with her,” he answered steadily.
“And you’re asking me this in a coffee shop, knowing everything I say will be inadmissible in a court of law?” She asked with one eyebrow raised. She crossed her legs, looking more relaxed now.
“Rihanna, I don’t give a shit at the minute about the court of law. I need to understand what’s going on, and if you ever felt anything for Jesse, you’d help me. Support him before it’s taken out of my hands.”
“It’s that bad?” Asked Rihanna, seeing the anguish in Martin’s face.
“Would I be doing this if I wasn’t desperate?” Martin watched Rihanna think it over and then she uncrossed her legs and knelt towards him.
“Darren Baxter asked me to speak with her. He stated his sister needed help and so begged me to talk to her, to be honest I’m still not sure what I did, but he’s a nice kid, so I met with her,” answered Rihanna.
“What did he want you to talk to her about?” Asked Martin calmly.
“He said she was struggling with her husband and wanted advice regarding how to escape him.”
“You’re a barrister, why would he think you could help? No offence.”
“None taken. I didn’t truly understand either, but I met with her, told her where she should look for guidance. How to stay under the radar as best she could. To be honest, she seemed as bemused as me. But Darren said he couldn’t see her, something to do with family issues, I didn’t pry,” she said sitting back again.
“Did she say anything to you?”
“Not really, nothing I remember. She claimed she had done most of what I’d said anyway, changed her name and all that.”
“Did you tell Darren that?”
“Yes,” answered Rihanna.
“Did she ever tell you anything about her husband?” Asked Martin, trying to piece it together.
“No. She didn’t open up much about it. Like I mentioned, it was a fairly short meeting. What’s this got to do with Jesse?”
Martin sighed and ran his hand through his hair, contemplating what to divulge. “Jesse’s been seeing her.”
Rihanna couldn’t hide the shock from her face.
“Only it seems she’s been mixed up with someone who’s dangerous, and they have taken her. Jesse’s beside himself, but now I think there’s more to it. I think Jesse was the intended target, someone’s trying to set him up.”
Chapter 24
The next day Hayley woke to an excruciating headache. Hitting her the moment her eyes opened. Lifting her hand up to her temple, she could feel something tacky there. Attempting to sit up shot sharp pains through her body. Wanting to cry but knowing better than to give in to that, she pulled the sheet away. Only then, she took in the full extent of what she’d gone through the evening before. Her bruised, naked body reminded her of the messy paintings her sister used to make with her chubby hands.
Rolling off the bed, she cried out in pain. Her side felt as though he had stabbed her. Tears threatened to fall without warning. Looking back at the covers, she saw the dried blood patches. Gently trying to ease herself up, she realised how sore she was.
Letting another tear escape, Hayley hobbled to the bathroom, placing the plug in while grasping her painful stomach. Once it had a couple of inches covering the base, she climbed in. Laying down, allowing the tub to fill up surrounding her. Her body shook uncontrollably as tears streamed down her face, struggling to stifle the noise she couldn’t help making. She closed her hands over her mouth and nose.
Hayley had dreamed about Jesse last night. It wasn’t something she’d prepared for. It had been a memory, a gem that she could hold on to, but whilst in sleep it had been co
mforting. Now she was awake in was just another instrument of torture. Hayley missed him so much; she needed him. She just wanted to wrap her arms around him and not let go. Watching the water near full capacity, she contemplated forcing herself under.
Getting out of the tub was slow and arduous. Her body shivered from how cold she’d let the water become. Wrapping a towel round herself, she walked gingerly to her bedroom, remembering a lock she’d seen on the attic door, when she’d been inspecting the house. She looked up, still unable to fathom why he’d lock an attic door. It wasn’t as if she could escape through it; it was a detached house.
The surrounding property was silent as she stood staring up, her head thumping. She needed something to take the edge off. Her right eye socket felt like razor blades were being twisted within it. Quickly, she got dressed then held her hand up to her face to help stop the pain whilst she made her way downstairs. On scouring the house yesterday, Hayley had located paracetamol and ibuprofen in one cupboard. Reaching for it she took out the ibuprofen tablets, filling a glass, she swallowed two tablets washing them down with tap water.
Hayley knew she had to eat. Her body was weak and she could feel it tearing itself apart to gain much needed nourishment. She would have to chance it, eat and hope he wouldn’t notice anything missing. Opening the bread packet, she’d seen yesterday, she took out two pieces. Opening the fridge, she sliced a thin strip of cheese, hiding it between the slices. She bit into it. Her jaw was still tender, and she soon struggled with the amount of food in her mouth. The next bite was smaller, gently sighing through each mouthful as though it was the most delicious chocolate cake she’d ever eaten. Hayley couldn’t remember ever being this hungry. Cleaning up the little mess she had made, she retired upstairs.
On the landing, she looked up at the lock hanging from the attic door, wondering once again what was worth a lock? Suddenly the door below vibrated with a loud bang. Spinning round to see what was going on, noticing through the glass someone was at the door. Hayley panicked, not knowing whether she should open it. So, she crouched down and waited for the person to move on.