Andrew nodded. “But he’ll be back on the street in twenty-four hours.”
Dalton took over for her partner. “I’m afraid that’s the system. The burden of proof is on the victim, not the offender. You’ll need evidence and things will have to go through the courts. We’ll try and get a restraining order in place by the time we release him.”
Andrew flopped back in his chair. All the times he had dismissed conservative claims that there was too little justice in the British prosecution system and it turns out they were right. There was no justice. Andrew’s family were being terrorised and the system would barely lift a finger to protect them. Instead, it was more interested in protecting Frankie’s rights to due process. Andrew didn’t blame the two police officers in his living room. They’d let down their impersonal barriers since the last time they’d visited and seemed genuinely sympathetic to his situation. They wanted to help, Andrew believed, and were probably just as frustrated by their lack of power as he himself was.
“Look,” said Andrew. “What the hell should I do?”
“Do you have anyone you can stay with?” Dalton asked.
Andrew shrugged. “I suppose Pen’s parents could have us for a while, but how does that help us in the long run?”
“It will just be until we press charges and bring Frankie in front of a judge.”
“But you don’t think I have a case, though. Not enough evidence.”
PC Dalton bit at her lower lip before sighing. “You’re right, we don’t. All you have is threats. It’s not enough. We’ll work on getting a restraining order but I’m not sure much else will stick.”
Andrew shook his head. “So, what then?”
The two officers thought for a moment. Eventually it was Dalton who spoke. “Look,” she said. “I’ll make a phone call to the Super and see what we can do. I would strongly suggest leaving in the morning and going somewhere else for a while. In the meantime we’ll get this piece of scum off the streets and make it clear to him that we’re watching his every move.”
“And will you be?” asked Andrew.
Dalton shrugged. “I’ll request a plain-clothes to be stationed in the area. Hopefully if we supervise Frankie’s movements long enough, we’ll catch him doing something illegal.”
Andrew felt himself relax, tension flooding out of his bones in great heaps. Someone being nearby watching over his family was exactly what he wanted – all that he needed to feel safe again. If the little punk tried anything else there would be a witness – a police witness.
“Thank you,” said Andrew, standing up and offering out his hand. “That’s what I wanted to hear. I just want to know someone is looking out for my family.”
The police officers stood up and Dalton shook his hand. “Don’t get too excited just yet. I’ll fight a good case for you, but it’s not my decision at the end of the day.”
Andrew nodded. “Okay, but you’ll let me know?”
“Of course, but you should stay somewhere else in the meantime, until we figure things out. Even if we do get a man put on Frankie, it will still take a couple of days.”
“Well, you have my thanks just for doing anything at all. I was beginning to think that I’d never get help.”
Wardsley seemed a little irritated by his comment – his inference that the police were not doing their jobs – but Andrew felt it was fair. He gave Andrew a half-smile. “We do our best, Mr Goodman. We can only do as the law allows. We’ll let ourselves out.”
Andrew nodded and stood aside. He was too relieved to feel guilty for offending the officer. In his opinion it wasn’t asking too much for a little help from the police – but again he reminded himself that it was likely not their fault. They were just trying to do a hard job with one arm tied behind their backs the whole time. Andrew reconsidered his actions and leaned out into the corridor to apologise to the officers, but they had already started down the front path.
Oh well. I’ll say something next time.
Andrew turned back into the living room and found Pen and Bex standing there, smiling at him. Obviously they’d been eavesdropping from the kitchen.
Pen put her arms around him and squeezed tight. “That’s a relief, don’t you think?”
Andrew hugged her right back and kissed the top of her forehead. She stunk of cleaning chemicals. “Yeah, maybe we can go back to normal again now. I’ll call work and get a few days off. They won’t like it but tough titties. We’ll go stay with your parents till the end of next week. Then we’ll come home and play things by ear.”
“A whole week with Nan and Granddad,” said Bex, pulling a face. “Seriously?”
Andrew frowned at her and stuck out his tongue playfully. “You’ll live. They don’t see enough of you, anyway. We can sit around in our PJs all day watching horror movies if you want.”
“You don’t like horror movies. They scare you.”
Andrew nodded. “After this week, I think real life is scarier. Stephen Koontz doesn’t bother me anymore.”
Bex rolled her eyes at him.
“No one is lazing around in their PJs,” said Pen. “I don’t want my parents thinking we’re a bunch of slobs. We can go on some daytrips. Leicester zoo is a nice afternoon out. They have a silverback gorilla there now and a new visitor’s centre.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Andrew. “Guess we should go pack.”
Pen laughed and walked toward the kitchen. “At least let me go call them first. They might not even agree to have us.”
“Here’s hoping,” said Bex.
Andrew slapped his daughter on the bum. “You’re not too old to put over my knee, young lady.”
Bex held up her hands in two fists. “You don’t got what it takes to beat me, old man. You’s nothing but a lousy bum.”
Andrew grinned. “You reckon?”
Bex bopped him on the arm with a right jab.
“We’ll see how tough you are.” Andrew lunged for his daughter, making her shriek and run upstairs in a fit of giggles. A minute later her dreadful pop music came on the stereo and thudded through the living room ceiling.
Looks like things are back to normal already.
The relief was still washing over Andrew. There were no guarantees that his encounters with Frankie were well and truly over, but at least now there would be consequences if he were to try anything else, and at the very least, for the next week-and-a-half, Andrew’s family would be away from the worry. Hopefully Andrew’s bosses would understand. The project he was working on could wait a little while longer.
Best I call them now and get it out the way.
Andrew headed for the kitchen where the phone was, but Pen intercepted him on the way and put her hand up to stop him. “I’m just going to call the firm,” he told her, wondering why she had blocked his path.
“The phone isn’t working.”
“Really? Let me take a look.”
The two of them went into the kitchen and Andrew headed over to the fridge. On the wall beside it was the cordless phone sitting in its cradle. Andrew plucked the handset free and held it to his ear.
Nothing.
There was no dial tone at all. Andrew keyed in some buttons to see if they made any noise on the line. They didn’t.
Andrew placed the handset back down and tried to figure it out. First he checked that the phone line was connected into the cradle. It was. Next he decided to check that the phone line was connected at the wall output. He followed the cream-coloured wire downwards towards the floor and then began tracing it along the skirting board. The wire disappeared behind the fridge, but Andrew knew it came out the other side. It was on that other side of the fridge that he discovered the reason why the phone was no longer working.
He knelt down to look closer. “The line’s been cut.”
Pen stared at him blankly. “What? How?”
Andrew stared at the frayed wire and could think of only one reason. “We need to get out of here. I think Frankie is in the house.”
“Look at the wire, Pen. It didn’t cut itself!”
Pen went white, a ghostly pallor consuming her usually-flushed features. “Your mobile,” she urged. “Call the officers. They only just left.”
Andrew nodded and rushed back into the living room. He’d left his mobile phone on the coffee table when the officers had been questioning him. But now, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, Andrew saw that it was gone. In fact the entire coffee table was now upended, placed upside down on the ruined carpet.
What the hell?
Pen came up behind Andrew, a little too close, and made him flinch. He turned to her and put his hands on each one of her shoulders. “You, me, and Rebecca are getting in the car, right now.”
Pen nodded and followed him without argument as he rushed across the living room. He entered the hallway and turned towards the stairs. “Rebecca,” he shouted. “Get down here now.”
Andrew waited for a reply, but there was none. His daughter’s music continued to blare. Panic blasted through his veins as he considered the reasons why.
A knock at the door.
Andrew looked at his wife. She looked back at him like a rabbit staring into the headlights of a speeding truck. “It could be the police,” she said. “They only just left.”
Andrew considered the possibility and decided it was viable.
Another knock at the door.
Andrew looked back up the stairs. “Bex, are you okay up there?”
Still no answer.
Andrew made a decision. He entered the porch and opened the front door.
But there were no police officers standing there.
Two black youths stood in front of Andrew, identical in appearance. The twins from Frankie’s gang, he realised quickly. A voice came from behind Andrew and he spun around. Frankie stood at the top of the stairs. He was holding Bex around the throat from behind. She was shaking and sobbing.
Frankie scowled down the stairs at Andrew. “Call the cops on me? Big mistake.”
Frankie pushed Bex forward. Her bare feet found nothing but air and she fell, hitting the steps and tumbling awkwardly to the bottom. Andrew wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard something snap. The sound made his stomach lurch.
Before Andrew had the chance to react, something hard struck the back of his head.
The world went dark.
Chapter Eleven
Davie followed Dom and Jordan into Andrew’s house, Michelle trailing behind them. Frankie was already inside, standing over the unconscious bodies of both Andrew and his daughter. The older woman was screaming out hysterically for help.
“Sort that bitch out, will ya?”
Davie realised that Frankie was talking to him, but found himself unable to do anything other than stand there with his jaw agape. He didn’t understand what was happening.
Frankie pushed Davie and snapped him out of it. “Sort the bitch out now, before she brings attention to us.”
“W-what you want me to do?”
“What you think I want you to do, you mug? Take her into the living room and shut her goddamn mouth.”
Davie nodded and took the woman away, holding her gently by the arm. She didn’t struggle, but neither did she cease her screaming. They entered the living room and Davie eased the woman onto the couch. Then he sat down beside her.
“You’ve got to be quiet,” he said, in what he hoped was a soothing voice. “Frankie will kick off if you don’t shut up.”
The woman carried on shouting out for help, but slowly her words were becoming a continuous, garbled slur. Gradually the volume of her voice lowered. Davie patted her on the back. “That’s it. Just try to calm down. Would you like a cup of tea?”
Frankie entered the room. “You kidding me? Why don’t you bake her a friggin’ cake as well?”
“I’m just trying to calm her down. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Just keep an eye on her.”
Davie nodded and remained beside the woman. Frankie moved behind an armchair in the room and shoved it forward along the carpet. Then he drew the curtains and turned down the lights with the dimmer switch.
“There,” said Frankie. “The mood is set. Bring ‘em in, lads.”
Dom and Jordan entered the room, dragging Andrew and Bex along the floor like dead bodies. Andrew had woken slightly since Dom had struck him in the back of the head, but was still pretty much out of it, eyes swirling around in his sockets unable to focus.
“Get him in this armchair,” said Frankie. “Come on, come on!”
Dom and Jordan hoisted Andrew up onto the armchair and propped up his head which kept sagging against his chest.
“Where’s the tape?” asked Frankie. His twitch was acting up and his voice quivered as his lip trembled.
Dom and Jordan both shrugged in unison, making the fact that they were twins seem like a weird double-act. “Think Shell has it,” said Jordan.
Frankie cursed beneath his breath. Then he shouted out. “Michelle, get your skinny ass in here.”
It was a couple of minutes before she appeared, but, when she did, Davie saw that she had the thick roll of silver duct tape that his brother wanted.
Frankie snatched it from her. “What the hell were you doing?”
Michelle shrugged her bony shoulders. “Just having a look around. There’s some nice shit in the girl’s room. Look!” She held up her right hand, which now sported a shiny gem on the ring finger. “Bet it belonged to her Nan or something. Sad bitch keeps a diary too; had a quick read and it was hilarious. Says she’s still afraid of the dark. Her taste in music sucked, though. I had to turn that shit off.”
“Very nice,” said Frankie in a way that made it clear that he couldn’t care less. He turned to Andrew and pointed. “Dom, get this loser strapped up. I want him to be nice and comfortable when we get the party started. He’ll have the best seat in the house.”
Davie sat silently on the sofa, wondering what his brother meant. Whatever he could think of would likely not be as bad as whatever Frankie was actually planning. In a competition for sickest imagination, Davie’s big brother would win every time.
Dom finished taping up Andrew just as he started to stir from unconsciousness. A thin stream of drool fell from his mouth and pooled on the tape securing his midsection to the chair.
“Wakey wakey, rise and shine,” said Frankie. “I was wondering if Dom had ended you with the smack he gave you. Glad he didn’t, though, as this will be a whole lot more fun with you alive.”
Andrew managed to lift his head and look Frankie in the eyes. “W-what…are you going to do?”
Frankie leant forward so that his eye-line matched Andrew’s. “Tell the truth I haven’t decided yet. Don’t you worry, though. It’s going to be a good crack.”
Andrew’s wife whimpered and Davie patted her on the back again to quiet her down. Fortunately it worked and Frankie didn’t notice.
Andrew spoke again, seeming to regain more of his senses. “Why are you doing this to us, you…you monster?”
“Not us,” said Frankie. “I’m doing this to you. Your bitches are just unfortunate victims; unfortunate to be involved with you. Collateral damage, is that what they say?”
“So why…are you doing this to…me?”
Frankie shrugged. “Just bad luck for you, I guess.”
Andrew shook his head and another sliver of drool escaped his mouth. “There must be a reason.”
Frankie swung his arm and struck Andrew in his ribs. His wife cried out, while he cried inwards, sucking in a breath and finding himself unable to let it out again. Frankie grabbed a bunch of his hair and lifted his head to face him. “Maybe I just don‘t like your face.”
“Leave him alone,” Andrew’s wife screamed before Davie had chance to stop her.
Frankie turned to her. “Or else what, bitch?”
“You’re nothing but a pathetic bully.”
Frankie looked
around the room at everyone and laughed hysterically. “Check this one out. Ten seconds ago she was being a good little girl. Now she’s grown a big fat set of hairy balls. You want to take me on, sweetheart?”
“Just be quiet,” Davie whispered in her ear. Thankfully she took his advice and said no more to antagonise his brother.
“That’s it,” said Frankie. “Listen to my baby brother. He’ll keep you safe.”
Michelle sidled up to Frankie and draped herself against him. Davie could tell that she’d snorted a line of coke recently. Her eyes were bloodshot, wide as dinner plates, while her lips puckered as though she had a mouth full of ash. “What’s the plan then, honey?” she slurred. “We going to party or what?”
Frankie kissed her hard on the mouth and then pushed her away. “Yeah, baby. It’s going to get real, but we have all night, so just settle in and get some gear on the go.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” said Dom, hopping up and down. Jordan was in agreement and slapped his twin on the back and let out an animalistic whoop!
“Before we do that, though,” said Frankie. “Let’s get the ladies sorted out. Last thing we need is them getting away.” He turned to Davie. “Get the old bird taped up, little bro.”
Davie stared at his brother to make sure he was serious. “She won’t do anything, Frankie. I’ll watch her.”
Frankie grabbed the tape off Dom and threw it at Davie. “I’m getting real sick of your arguing, man. Just do what I’m telling you and tape the old bag up.”
Davie stared at his brother a while longer, but realised he was pushing Frankie’s patience. He turned away and pulled off a strip of tape. “I’m sorry,” he told the woman and began taping her up. She didn’t resist, but the whole time he wrapped the tape around her wrists she had a look of utter hatred on her face. It made Davie feel wretched inside. He hated what he was doing to her.
As soon as he was done, Davie stood up and moved over to his brother who was peeking out of a gap in the curtains.
“What you want, little bro?” Frankie said as Davie approached him.
“How you know it was me?”
ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror Page 9