The Taken

by Casey Kelleher

  But she needed proof. Solid evidence. She needed to find the packets of tablets.

  Grabbing the bin she yanked it across the floor; spilling the contents out onto the lino as she scoured through the slimy remnants of the last few days’ dinners: scraps of leftover food congealed on discarded microwavable plastic cartons.

  Still she found nothing.

  His room?

  Storming out to the hallway she reached Colin’s bedroom door. It was locked.

  Bolted with a padlock as it had been for some years. The dumb bastard had taken to locking himself away. It was ironic really: the fact that, in order to stop his mother from locking him inside ‘the hole’ he’d taken to locking himself away in his room.

  That was how thick he was. The boy was a fool, so stupid that he didn’t even realise that by locking his mother out he was still locking himself in. He’d become his own prisoner. But the triumph was still hers.

  She was older now, frailer, and Colin had grown so big, so tall.

  She hadn’t used ‘the hole’ as a punishment since he was a boy; instead she’d found new ways of punishing her son.

  Purposely fucking with his head; the same way that just him existing fucked with hers.

  Him locking himself away in his room meant that the fear was still there. She still had him.

  She needed to get into his room, to find the tablets, to show that bastard that she was onto him. That she wouldn’t be outsmarted. All she needed was the evidence, then she’d ram it down his throat and have great pleasure in doing so.

  Determined now, Mary went to the cupboard under the stairs. Flicking the switch on she rummaged around in the boxes that were stacked at the back. Old tools that had been discarded, never used. A rusty screwdriver, a pair of pliers.

  Bingo! A hammer tucked away inside a box. It hadn’t seen the light of day for years.

  Back outside Colin’s door now she lifted the hammer high above her head and hit the lock with all of her strength. Fuelled with anger and determination, it only took three attempts. The bolt buckled, then the lock snapped off, falling to the floor.

  She was in. Opening the door the rancid stench of rot and decay hit her with full force. Reminding her of rotten cabbage, the blocked drains seemed even stronger in here, which was strange as they were at the back of the kitchen. She’d have to send him outside later. Get him to sort them out once and for all.

  They were a health hazard – but then again, so was Colin’s bedroom.

  Her eyes quickly scanned the heaps of clothing left piled up around the room before settling on the desk in front of the window. She spotted the tablets straight away, packets and bottles piled high; the bin full of the empties.

  She’d been right all along. That fucking bastard had been drugging her. She was going to punish him for this.

  She looked over towards ‘the hole’. Colin had dragged a shelf in front of it, trying to disguise it, to pretend that it wasn’t there.

  Then she was back to looking at the clothes, the mess, the clutter.

  Noticing the strange objects that lined the outskirts of the room, Mary recoiled in horror. Her eyes must be playing tricks on her; perhaps the drugs still inside her system were making her delirious.

  She started to gag now, uncontrollably. Her already fragile stomach fought the urge to expel its contents.

  For the first time in nearly forty years Mary Jeffries was rendered stone cold sober.

  Unable to stop herself she threw up, emptying her stomach all over the floor until she felt hollow, empty. She was shaking, mumbling loudly, frantically, until her words escaped from her mouth in nothing more than a strangled scream.

  Then she heard it.

  The small noise behind her.

  Turning, she saw Colin standing in the doorway.

  He’d been watching her. His eyes expressionless, fixated on his mother as he drank in her reaction. Relishing her horror.

  ‘What have you done?’ Her voice was barely a whisper now. ‘What the hell have you done?’

  Colin laughed; the sound contemptuous.

  For the first time in his life he was mocking her, enjoying her terror.

  ‘You’re not right, Colin. You’re sick in the head! You’re a monster, a freak!’

  Colin just shook his head with certainty. He’d suffered a lifetime of abuse in this woman’s hands. The damage inside him was inconceivable, irreversible.

  She was right. He was a freak. A weirdo.

  He was everything that she had made him.

  Moving towards her, his eyes devoid of emotion, he was going to make sure that his mother would never tell a single living soul.

  31

  ‘All I’m saying is that this is none of our business. We should just keep our noses out of it, Saskia. We don’t know anything for sure. I don’t mean to sound like a bitch but Lena could be lying to us? Who knows what her motives are? Let’s just wait for Vincent to get here, yeah?’

  Gathering up the breakfast things, Misty busied herself putting the dirty crockery in the dishwasher, her back to Saskia. She was growing tired of the conversation.

  Saskia was getting ahead of herself now. Worried about Lena, she was talking about confronting Vincent when he got here. She was utterly naïve. Saskia didn’t have a clue what she was getting involved with. Vincent Harper’s business was exactly that, his business, and he wouldn’t appreciate Saskia trying to involve herself in it.

  He would be here any minute, and Misty was desperate to try and talk Saskia down before that happened. She could really do without any more drama today.

  Lena wasn’t their problem.

  ‘So you’re saying that you don’t believe her? You think she’s lying to us?’ Saskia shook her head, disbelieving. Still sitting at the table, Saskia was stewing over Misty’s sudden change of attitude since Lena had left the room. ‘After everything you just heard? Vincent is trafficking people, Misty. You just heard it for yourself.’

  ‘What I just heard was the story of a very scared, desperate girl. A girl with a small baby who has been drugged that’s just admitted she is here in England illegally. I’m just saying that we don’t know all the facts.’

  ‘So, you think she’s spinning us some kind of story?’

  ‘I don’t know, Saskia, but like I keep saying it isn’t any of our business. We shouldn’t be getting involved. We’ve done our bit… ’

  ‘Done our bit?’ Saskia was incredulous now. ‘What’s that then? Just hand her back over to Vincent? You heard what she said about that boat. If what she is telling us is true, then Vincent is responsible for all those people that died. Joshua Harper too.’

  ‘Enough!’ Misty turned and faced Saskia, her tone deadly serious. ‘Throwing around accusations like that could land you in a whole heap of trouble. I know that you’re just trying to help the girl, Saskia, believe me, I really do, but you really don’t know what you’re getting yourself involved with. So just let Vincent come and do his thing and don’t get involved. Okay?’

  Saskia was silenced then.

  Misty’s tone was sharp, her voice fuelled with anger but there was something there in her eyes too. Guilt.

  ‘You already knew didn’t you?’ Saskia was staring at Misty now, intently. ‘When Lena told us about the boat, about all of those people being trafficked, you didn’t react. No look of shock, disgust, nothing. You already knew!’

  Leaning against the worktop, Misty let out a sigh.

  ‘Look, whatever goes on at Harper’s Palace is none of our concern. We work there, that’s it. Ignorance in this world is bliss, Saskia, trust me. If they even think that you know about their private business, you’ll be putting yourself at risk too. So please, for your own good keep your opinions and, more importantly your assumptions, to yourself.’

  ‘Who are you people?’ Saskia felt sick. Misty had known about this all along. None of this was a shock to her.

  ‘That’s who all those men were, the night of the private party. They were his
workers, his traffickers? I danced for them, Jesus Christ!’ Closing her eyes she realised – she was part of it.

  She’d danced for them, entertained them. Criminals. Villains. Crooks.

  ‘Oh come on, Saskia, who did you think they were? DJs? Waiters? Joshua has a lot of other business ventures. Not just the club.’

  ‘Business ventures?’ Saskia raised her voice, stunned at the coolness of Misty’s tone. ‘A hundred people were on board that boat, Misty; a hundred people are dead now. There’s probably even more than that, others that we don’t even know about. Joshua and Vincent have blood on their hands. That’s not a business venture, that’s murder!’

  Saskia couldn’t believe how gullible she had been. Dancing in the club, thinking that the worst things around her were pervy men and a few lines of cocaine. This was worse than she could have ever imagined. How could Misty just act like everything was normal?

  ‘Oh my God, that’s why Vincent brought her back here isn’t it? He doesn’t give a shit about helping her; he’s just clearing up his mess. Make sure that nothing comes back onto him and Joshua. Lena’s in danger isn’t she?’

  ‘You’re just second-guessing.’ Misty walked over to the table and sat down opposite her friend. ‘Seriously, Saskia, I know that you are angry right now, but please, trust me, you mustn’t get involved in this.’

  Saskia couldn’t believe what she was hearing – how selfish Misty suddenly sounded.

  They’d both seen how genuinely scared Lena was. Of Vincent, of Ramiz.

  ‘It took a lot of courage for Lena to confide in us. We promised her that we would help her… ’

  ‘And we have. You were great with Roza last night. We gave her somewhere to rest, some food. Shit, I’ve even let the girl raid my wardrobe, Sass.’ Misty offered a small smile then, adding sadly, ‘we can’t do any more than we’ve done already… We can’t get involved in this. I won’t get involved in this.’ Placing her head in her hands Misty looked defeated. The conversation was over.

  Misty wasn’t prepared to help Lena. She was just going to hand her back over to Vincent. Ignorance is bliss.

  ‘Okay,’ Saskia said sadly. Deflated, she felt like she’d had the air punched out of her. ‘Well, I’m going to go and see if Lena needs any help with Roza while she’s getting ready.’

  ‘Seriously, Saskia, I know it sounds harsh, but there is nothing we can say or do. This is Vincent’s business not ours. We’ve done as much as we can for Lena.’

  Saskia didn’t bother to reply.

  Getting up, she made her way to the bedroom to check on the girl and the baby.

  Misty was wrong. They hadn’t helped Lena at all.

  They were no better than Vincent and Joshua.

  In fact, if anything they were even worse.

  They’d made Lena a handful of empty promises and now they were going to throw her to the wolves.

  They had betrayed her.

  32

  Opening her front door, Misty barely got a chance to step aside before Vincent charged his way in, rudely barging past her. He looked like shit. Like he hadn’t slept. He was still wearing the same clothes he’d had on the previous night, his eyes bloodshot, his face unshaved.

  ‘Rough night? You should try looking after a baby… ’ Misty mumbled sarcastically under her breath as she followed him through to the kitchen.

  Vincent ignored her. He wasn’t in the mood for Misty and her smart mouth this morning. He needed to speak with this girl. Find out if Korab and this Ramiz cunt had survived. Then he needed to get this mess cleaned up once and for all.

  ‘Where’s sleeping beauty then?’

  Noting the three mugs of tea on the kitchen table, but no sign of the girl, Vincent glared at Saskia. Another one with an attitude problem.

  ‘She’s in the bedroom, changing Roza’s nappy. She’ll be out in a second.’

  ‘Do you want a cup?’ Misty asked begrudgingly, wondering if maybe Vincent just needed a dose of caffeine in the morning to stop him from being such an obnoxious bastard.

  ‘This ain’t a social call. I’ve got things to do. Lena!’ Vincent shouted now, dismissing Misty’s offer. ‘What is she, fucking deaf? Get her out here.’

  ‘Well, she’s not going to come out here if you speak to her like that!’ Saskia said tartly, getting up and making her way over towards the bedroom door. ‘The poor girl’s a nervous wreck.’

  Misty shot Saskia a warning look. She knew Vincent better than Saskia did, and she knew he would tear Saskia apart for talking to him like that.

  Heeding the warning, Saskia tapped her knuckles lightly against the wood.

  ‘Lena? Are you done? Your tea’s going cold out here… ’

  No answer.

  ‘Lena?’

  Trying the handle then; the door wouldn’t budge. Turning to Vincent, Saskia shrugged, unsure of what to do. ‘She’s locked it?’

  ‘Lena!’ Something was off. Vincent sensed it immediately. ‘Get out of the bloody way.’

  Losing his patience, Vincent shoved Saskia out of the way and grabbed at the handle, jiggling it hard. He lost his rag then; slamming the weight of his body into the wooden panel several times before he managed to force the door open, whacking it loudly against the bedroom wall.

  The loud bang echoed around the room.

  It was empty.

  ‘Where the fuck is she then?’

  Staring past the mess – the unmade bed, the piles of clothes strewn in a heap on the floor – Vincent’s eyes rested on the open window. The large pane had been hoisted open, and the floor-length curtains billowed wildly in the breeze as rain pelting into the room formed a small puddle on the floor.

  The girl had fucking gone!

  ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

  Storming over to the window, Vincent looked down past the metal stairwell that ran down the outside wall, his eyes scanning past the fire escape and along the alleyway that ran the length of the flats.

  There was no one about. She’d fucking legged it. The girl had done a runner.

  ‘For fuck’s sake!’ Banging his fist on the window frame, Vincent was beyond fuming. This was all he fucking needed. Joshua was going to have a fucking field day with this one. ‘I asked you two dozy tarts to do one thing. One fucking thing, and you couldn’t even do that right!’

  Nervous now, knowing how volatile Vincent’s temper could be, Misty was trying her hardest to defuse the situation.

  ‘She couldn’t have got far. She was only here just a few minutes ago,’ Misty began. ‘Honestly Vincent, she said she was just going to change Roza; she was only in here a few minutes. I made her a cup of tea… ’ Misty was panicking now, as she could see the look on Vincent’s face.

  ‘Bullshit.’ Pointing at the pool of water on the carpet underneath the window from the rain that was pouring in, Vincent didn’t believe her. ‘She’s been gone more than a few minutes. What were you two fucking doing? Drinking tea and having a fucking mother’s meeting while the girl fucking took her chance and legged it?’

  Vincent glared before he stormed back into the kitchen, not in the mood to wait for the girls’ pathetic excuses.

  ‘How hard is it to look after a fucking kid and a baby? Even a pair of slags like you can do that, surely?’ Vincent sneered, looking at the girls as if they were nothing more than dirt on his shoe.

  He was incensed. Fuming. If he’d known how incapable this pair of bimbos were, he would have stayed here the night himself and kept an eye on the girl. He was angry with himself now. That’s what he should have done. Then they wouldn’t even be having this fucking conversation right now.

  ‘We did what you asked us to do. How were we supposed to know that the girl was going to do a runner?’ Saskia was getting annoyed now. How dare Vincent talk to her and Misty like this?

  Vincent strode across the room then, stopping just inches away from Saskia. Looming over her, Vincent was purposely trying to intimidate her, and it was working.

  Saskia felt
wary.

  He leant down towards her and, to her surprise, he laughed. He found the gall of the girl in front of him nothing but amusing. Saskia clearly had no clue of the trouble she had fucking well caused.

  ‘You must be fucking deluded, love. If you did what I asked you to do, then that fucking bird would still be here, wouldn’t she.’ Vincent rubbed his head. ‘You must have said something to her? Scared her off?’

  ‘Us?’ Saskia raised her voice.

  Misty could see that Saskia was close to losing her temper and doing something that she’d regret; she wanted to head her off before that happened. ‘We didn’t really speak to the girl,’ she quickly interrupted. Remembering what Saskia had told her about how they had found her last night, the state she had been in, she decided to play it to her advantage. ‘She wasn’t making any sense, mumbling stuff in her own language. She was a bleeding nut job.’

  Misty could see the doubt in Vincent’s face now. She was convincing him.

  ‘Look, we made her a cup of tea. It’s still hot. She can’t have gone that long. She probably legged it just as you arrived. We had no idea.’

  Misty held Vincent’s stare. She could feel his eyes were boring into hers; staring right through her as he tried to suss out if she was lying to him.

  ‘You two had better not be fucking spinning me a line, ’cos if I find out you had anything to do with her legging it there’ll be fucking trouble, do you hear me?’

  He could smell bullshit from a mile off. He didn’t believe the girls – not for a second. Still, standing here arguing about it would only get him nowhere fast. The fact remained, the girl had done a runner. This was a fucking mess. The last thing he needed was some neurotic fucking illegal immigrant running about and causing shit for him, especially with the mood Joshua was in.

  ‘Fuck’s sake!’ Furious now, he slammed his fist into one of the kitchen cupboards, shattering the wooden door to pieces, making the girls jump with fright. ‘Right. You two, get your fucking coats on, you’re going to come and help me look for her. She ain’t going to get very far with no money and a sprog in tow, so hurry up and move your arses.’