BABY SNATCHERS (A Detective India Kane & AJ Colt Crime Thriller)

by Bo Brennan

  India chuckled as he sat down beside her and handed her a glass of wine. “I'm truly touched that you've just divulged your most cringe-worthy moment to me.”

  He raised a brow. “I have others.”

  India pursed her lips. “Keep them to yourself, big man,” she said patting his thigh as the groans on the screen turned to toe curling orgasmic screams.

  “Jesus,” Colt said jerking his head. “What the fuck is he doing to her?”

  “She's faking,” India said glancing at him sideways. “Make sure you tell him that when you finally charge his skinny arse.”

  “Whose skinny arse?”

  “Dwight Sanders,” she said pointing at the screen. “I'm researching your man.”

  Colt baulked, sending a mouthful of wine across her lounge and dribbling down his chin. India shook her head and thumped him between the shoulder blades as he doubled up coughing and choking. He swivelled in his seat and stared at her with wide streaming eyes. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he spluttered, “That's Sanders?”

  India nodded. “He's not very good in bed,” she said dully.

  “Give it here,” he said reaching for the laptop. “I need to see if his dick bends to the left.”

  “It doesn't,” she said positioning the computer in his lap and replaying the video. “It's far too small for that.”

  India mopped up the mess he'd made and refilled her glass while he studied the sex tape intently. “How the hell did you find this?” he murmured staring at the screen.

  India shrugged. “Googled Dwight Sanders Sex. Found it buried under all the news reports about his arrest. That's him fucking a fan he pulled from the crowd at a movie premiere three years ago.”

  “Shit,” Colt spat shoving the laptop towards her. “How do you stop it? Make it stop.”

  “Easy tiger,” India said glaring at him. “It's not hard. All you gotta do is press pause. It's not going to self-destruct after you've watched it.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “Can you show me a clear frame of his arse, please? I need to get a really good look at his cheeks.”

  India hung her head and stifled a laugh as her fingers worked the keys. He was so tense she doubted he'd appreciate his lurid request being the source of her amusement. It took her seconds to find the ultimate butt shot. She framed it on the screen and rested the computer in his lap.

  Colt shuddered out a ragged laugh. “I fucking lov....” He stopped and bit his lip. Placed the laptop on the coffee table with a grin as wide as the M25, and gripped her face with both hands. “You are fucking amazing,” he said planting a smacker on her lips.

  Chapter 57

  Saturday 30th July

  New Scotland Yard, London.

  Colt sat at the interview room table facing Declan Maloney. He’d removed his tie, jacket, and cufflinks, turning back his shirt sleeves, before Declan had arrived. Maggie and Bob, both wearing jeans and t-shirts, had looked on in amusement as he flustered about trying to appear less authoritarian.

  He couldn’t lose his waistcoat, as they'd both suggested. The heavy thread of a Saville Row shirt wasn’t enough to fully conceal the dark inked tattoos covering his torso.

  Apart from his body art being private, experience had proven you could never tell what might trigger a victim of abuse - a smell, a word, a body movement, an image - so he always erred on the side of caution.

  “How were things left yesterday with the Cordwells?” Colt asked.

  Declan grimaced and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Elizabeth’s a lovely lady, Peter’s coming round. Thanks for putting a good word in for me,” he said pensively. “They’ve invited me and Niamh to the funeral.”

  Colt gave a solemn smile. The road ahead for this oddly extended family would be fraught with tensions, but he hoped they’d remain in touch. Penny, or Mairead, had died to bring them together. It would be a tragedy if they allowed these same people to rip their lives apart once more. He cleared his throat. “As I told you yesterday, Declan, I think you can help us find out what really happened to your sister.”

  Declan nodded and drew a deep breath. “I’ll do whatever it takes. What do you need from me?”

  Colt rested a hand on top of the file next to him. “In here, I have some intimate photographs of male genitalia,” he said. “I’d like you to take a look and see if you recognise any of them.”

  Declan pursed his lips and crossed his arms. He was here under duress. The possibility that the death of his long lost little sister could be somehow connected to his past, was the only reason he was here at all. “It’s not exactly the line-up I had in mind,” he said.

  “I know it’s a big ask,” Colt said. “But I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't think it was relevant to our investigation.”

  Declan gritted his teeth and gave a tight nod as he extended his hand. Colt had two unknown persons still remaining unidentified from the Sanders ring. The first picture he passed across the table they'd tagged 'AB4, NKI.' Abuser 4, no known identifiers.

  Declan took his time studying the picture before shaking his head and handing it back. “No. I'm sorry.”

  Colt felt a twinge of disappointment as he returned it to the file and removed the second photograph, tagged 'AB2, CBL.' Abuser 2, circumcised bent left. Rueing his decision to crop the cufflinks from the photograph, he passed it to Declan. His reaction was instant. He dropped it to the table like it had burnt his fingers, and turned his face away.

  “You remember him?” Colt said picking up the picture and holding it up to face him.

  “I'll never fecking forget!” Declan snatched the photograph from him and slammed it image side down on the table. “The first time I couldn't sit down for a fortnight and was shitting blood for a week!”

  Colt waited him out. Let his anger and shock subside. Wanted him to go at his own pace and speak freely.

  “We all dreaded him,” he eventually murmured. “He was the worst. Got off on the screams.”

  Colt swallowed hard as Declan gazed off into the distance. It was a haunted look he'd seen many times before, a victim glimpsing the past.

  “Not all of them were rough. Barrington was gentle. He liked to cuddle afterwards. Dwight was his favourite - pretty boy, blonde hair, blue eyes, smaller than the rest of us. He got showered with gifts, while I got that evil bastard.”

  “What's his name?” Colt probed gently tapping the overturned photo.

  “There's no point,” Declan said. “You wouldn't believe me anyway.”

  “Try me,” Colt said. “Not much surprises me these days.”

  Declan shook his head and wrung his hands together.

  “If you're so sure I won't believe you, you've got nothing to lose,” Colt said.

  Declan shrugged, looked him square in the eye, and said, “Gideon Flackerly.”

  Colt wanted to jump up and run around the room doing a silly dance, imagined Maggie and Bob doing just that in the viewing room. He clenched his abdominals, working hard to keep his facial expression neutral. “As in Right Honourable Judge Gideon Flackerly?” he said evenly.

  “Yep,” Declan said. “I can't imagine ye racing to make that arrest anytime soon.”

  Colt took a deep breath through his nose, and asked, “Did this abuse take place at the New Lives Foundation children’s home?”

  Declan hung his head and chewed at his thumb nail. “We thought we were so lucky the first time.” He shook his head in disbelief and huffed a mirthless chuckle. “All dressed up in our best clothes and lined up against the dining room wall, eagerly hoping to get picked to go to the party. Didn't know we were the fecking canapés then.”

  “Where did the party take place?” Colt asked.

  Declan shrugged. “Some big house in the country. Don't know where. Don't know whose. A chauffeur picked us up in a Rolls Royce. We were so excited. All had our best gear on, the stuff reserved for special occasions like church, or when prospective parents came to take their pick. They'd dress us up and line us up
for that too.” He wrung his hands together and pushed the down-turned picture further away from him. “There were five of us the first time. Only four came back.”

  “What happened to the fifth one?”

  Declan picked at the skin around his thumb. “Eric. His name was Eric. He'd only been at the home for a week. Never even had the chance to get picked by a parent when he got picked for the party. There were rumours among the boys, but we never really knew for sure.”

  “Tell me about the rumours.”

  He tugged at a piece of skin at the side of his nail and his thumb began to bleed. It didn't deter him. He continued picking as he spoke. “I don't know if they were true, but they were enough to stop us talking. Keep us terrified and compliant. Make us feel like the lucky ones because we came back.”

  “What were the rumours, Declan?” Colt pressed gently.

  He brushed a tear from his cheek and lifted his eyes. “They said the ones who didn't come back were buried in the house and grounds.”

  Chapter 58

  New Scotland Yard, London.

  “I couldn't find anything on a missing boy called Eric, Boss,” Maggie said. “But both Barrington and Flackerly had Rollers in the nineties. Barrington's still got one today.”

  “This ring's been operating for years,” Bob said. “If they were openly using NLF boys for paedophile parties, more people must be involved. These bastards are connected right to the top of the establishment.”

  “That’s why Declan Maloney clammed up,” Colt said. “He doesn’t even trust us to bring the two in he's named.”

  “I can understand why,” Maggie murmured. “Judge Flackerly is at his hunting lodge in Scotland this weekend. I can’t see the Commander agreeing to his arrest.”

  Colt smiled. “That’s exactly why we’re not going to tell him. Besides, he’s busy prancing around at Chequers this week. When is Flackerly due back?”

  “He's booked on a flight into Heathrow Monday afternoon,” Maggie said.

  Colt stared at his picture and cracked his knuckles. “Okay. That's where we'll arrest him. We'll meet his flight at Heathrow.”

  “Guv, are you sure that's wise? You haven't even told the Commander about Barrington and tomorrow’s op yet. He'll go off his nut.”

  Colt pointed at the pictures covering the wall. “They're mates, Mags. Commander Hussein is probably hanging out with some of these people right now. He'll find out about it when everybody else does.”

  Maggie squirmed. “Arresting a Family Division judge in the middle of the UK's biggest airport will not go unnoticed.”

  “Good, that's the plan. It'll show Declan Maloney that he can trust us.”

  Bob nodded approvingly. “A nice high profile public arrest will empower other NLF victims to come forward. We'll get more names and information when they do.”

  “Michael Moore won't like it,” Maggie sighed. “Sanders’ defence team will use it to make him look like a victim.”

  “What went on at the NLF children's homes is a whole different case. Right now, Dwight Sanders is an abuser alongside Flackerly and Barrington in this investigation.” Colt drummed his fingers on the table. “Sanders’ housekeepers might even come out of the woodwork if they see the Judge isn't untouchable.” He checked his watch. They had an hour before their conference call. “India's been to Barrington's house a couple of times,” he said. “I want to know what other properties this lot own before we speak to Winchester.”

  Hampshire CID, Winchester.

  India was sitting comfortably in Firman's office, delighting in Sangrin's glare. The fact that she was included in the case conference call on merit - and him by default - had well and truly sunk in.

  “We haven't been able to locate Marky Markham yet, but we've got eyes on his flat,” Firman said. “We have no idea if, or when, the nasty bastard might turn up. I understand India emailed you the headshot from the car he was driving at the time of Lisa Lewis's death.”

  “She did,” Colt said. “We've got his mug shot too. He didn't attack Ryan Reynolds. His assailant concealed his face, but he didn't wear gloves. His hands were white.”

  “Our witness put a second male in the car park at the time of Lisa Lewis's death,” Sangrin said. “White, six feet by six feet. It could be him.”

  “Nah, it doesn’t fit,” Colt said. “Ryan’s attacker was tall but built like a string of spaghetti. Couldn’t swing a bat too well either.”

  India sighed. Aside from the fact Marky Markham was as black as coal; he was proficient in swinging a bat. He'd swung one her way a few times when she'd last lifted him for breaching the restraining order on his ex. “Sounds like an amateur,” she said. “Maybe it was a straight forward mugging after all.”

  “Maybe. We're confident he saw his attacker's face, so hopefully when he comes round he'll be able to give us a description. We'll deal with that as it comes,” Colt said. “When you bring Johnson in, treat him as a sex offender. I want him stripped, photographed, and subjected to a rape kit before his brief arrives. We've still got one outstanding member of our paedophile ring.”

  “Who's the third?” Sangrin asked.

  “Need to know basis,” Colt said. “We're working on bringing him in.”

  Sangrin narrowed his eyes at India. She tilted her head and spread her hands - content to let him think she knew who it was, when really; she didn't have a bloody clue either.

  “India,” Maggie's voice came over the line, “Colt tells us you've been to Barrington's estate a couple of times. What can you tell us about it?”

  “Apart from the fact it's posh and been in the family for generations, not a lot. What do you want to know?”

  “Location, size, everything you know.”

  “It's a massive country estate on the outskirts of Winchester.” India puffed out a breath and raised her brows trying to glean the relevant points from her various lines of enquiry. “There's a main mansion house where the family live, but at least one other dwelling within the estate confines. Johnson, and his wife and son, also live on site. There's staff, I have no idea how many, but it covers fourteen hundred acres so there must be a few. If you expect that place to be covered as well tomorrow, you’d better call the army in.”

  “All we expect you to do is deal with Johnson,” Maggie Moo said curtly. “Can you handle that or not?”

  India jerked her head and went to respond, but Firman raised his hand and glared at her. “She can handle it,” he said tugging at his beard. “We're all set for tomorrow. India and Lee will be on Johnson at the Royal South Hants from midday. Shout as soon as you want him lifted. I'll have the medic ready and waiting. Is there anything else?”

  “Sasha Grant,” India said. “When is she coming home?”

  “Sasha and Melissa want to stay together,” Colt said. “We're still searching for the right placement for them.”

  “Terri's perfect,” India said. “She'll do it.”

  “Is that the teacher?” Maggie asked.

  India wet her lips. She hadn’t even discussed this with Terri, but was keen to draw a line. She knew she'd be up for it. “Yeah. She'll take them both if it means getting Sasha back home for good.”

  “Doesn’t matter how willing she is,” Maggie said. “She can’t. She's not a registered foster carer.”

  India frowned. “Then get her registered.”

  Maggie let out an exasperated sigh. “You can't become a foster carer overnight. There's a rigorous registration and selection process.”

  “Get your head out of your arse,” India snapped. “Your rigorous fucking process handed those girls over to paedophiles.”

  There was some furious background mumbling before Colt was back on the line. “We'll discuss Sasha and Melissa tonight, India. If there's nothing else regarding tomorrow's operation, we'll speak again in the morning.”

  “There's nothing else,” Firman said giving India the death stare. “We're done here.”

  The sound of chairs scraping against the floor,
and a cacophony of excited chatter followed, before the line went dead.

  “Anything else, Guv?” India said standing up and rolling her shoulders.

  “I want Johnson brought in with the least amount of fuss possible,” Firman said jabbing a finger her way. “Don't fuck it up.”

  Sangrin reached out to grab her arm as she turned to leave. One look had him changing his mind and stepping directly into her path instead. “When were you last at Barrington's estate?” he demanded.

  India stared at him. “Bacon butty with extras day, Sarge.”

  Sangrin's eye twitched. “That was after I explicitly told you to stay away from them.”

  “Yes, I believe it was.” India nudged past him on the way to her desk.

  Firman's office door slammed shut behind her. She didn’t need to hear their conversation to know her name would feature prominently.

  New Scotland Yard, London.

  “Fourteen hundred acres.” Bob whistled and scrubbed a hand over his head. “That's a lot of land to dig for bodies.”

  Maggie sighed and turned her laptop to face them. “According to English Heritage its grade one listed as well,” she said. “Even if Declan could confirm it was Barrington's estate where the parties took place, we'd never get a warrant to rip it apart.”

  Colt cracked his knuckles. “You're sure Flackerly's only got a London town house and a hunting lodge in Scotland?”

  Maggie nodded. “I've done property searches on every one of them,” she said gesturing to the suspect wall. “The only one with a big house in the country is Barrington. If there are bodies anywhere, they're there.”

  Colt sat back in his chair and stared at the image wall. They finally had Dwight Sanders - courtesy of his hairy arse mole appearing in an online sex tape - and a direct witness, who'd named both masonic ring wearing Lord Professor Barrington, and brutal Judge Flackerly with his left bending dick. But they still had an unknown quantity with no distinguishing marks whatsoever. “Without knowing who that fucker is, there's still the possibility of another location,” he said.