The walk from her apartment to 12 Lovett Street was surprisingly enjoyable. Despite the knot of anticipation in her stomach, and perhaps because of the adrenalin coursing through her veins, her perceptions seemed heightened; the snow was thick, mostly untrodden, and reflected the moon’s light, full and low, it was a bright silver orb giving enough light to make her journey across the town easy. The air was crisp, the night sky clear, and a billion stars shone in bright clusters against a midnight-blue sky. Without manmade light to obscure it, the sky was stunning and, if the loss of electricity didn’t mean serious hardship for the town, then she would quite happily keep it switched off.
It took an hour of walking through nearly a foot of virgin snow before she reached the unlit main road. About half a mile away was the entrance to Lovett street with its twin banks of terraced housing. A lone dogwalker tracked through the snow on the other side of the street, making no effort at greeting. Vicky continued her journey, thinking through the layout of the house in relation to the street, neighbouring houses, gardens, passageways, and the narrow lane behind. Number twelve was a third of the way down Lovett Street, its frontage faced by another row of terraced housing. A passageway ran between number twelve and number fourteen which would give her access to the back of the house. She could either approach from the rear, taking the narrow path at the back of the garden and climb over the wall, or approach from the front. Taking the front would mean a greater chance of being seen, so although most of the houses were dark, she decided on taking the side road and approaching 12 Lovett from the rear.
At the back of the house, she became uncertain of which broken fence was that of number twelve. In one of the backyards a dog began to bark, alerted by her presence. She abandoned the idea of entering the property via the back garden and made her way to the front. At number twelve light shone behind badly drawn living room curtains. With a quick glance at the houses across the street, she stepped through the open gate and crouched beneath the large bay window. Snow crunched underfoot as she squatted, every noise amplified in the quiet. In the distance a dog barked. The dog at the back of the terrace responded with its own bark. Vicky rose from her squat to peer between the curtains and smiled. Inside, an upturned torch sat on a coffee table. It cast a bright circle of light on the ceiling. Much of the room was in shadow, but at the edges of light she could see two forms, both wrapped in sleeping bags, laying on the large corner sofa that filled much of the space. One she recognised as the redhead from the mall, the other was a much younger girl and had to be the woman’s sister, Jemima. Gotcha!
Vicky scanned the room, peering into the dark. As far as she could ascertain, there was no one else in the room. With the front door locked, she made her way down the dark passageway between numbers twelve and fourteen before climbing over the garden wall and landing with a soft thud on the other side. Snow undulated over the yard, covering earlier footprints, and what looked like snow angels.
She made her way to the back door, checked that Anna was still alone with her sister then tried the door. To her surprise, the handle levered down with ease and opened into the kitchen. The taint of bleach and mildew was unmistakable, and it felt colder in the room than it had outside. A door to her right would take her to the dining-cum-living room where the girls were asleep on the sofa. She closed the back door with care.
Stale air, with the unmistakable odour of weed and cigarettes along with underlying tones of greasy, takeaway pizza, greeted her as she stepped into the living room. Tracking snow across the stained carpet, she made her way to the large L-shaped sofa. Torchlight illuminated the space. Oblivious to her presence, the younger girl slept with fingers clutching the top of the sleeping bag. In the corner, unseen in the shadows, a bulky figure slumped in a chair. Vicky froze, watching the figure intently. It appeared to be an overweight man or woman, the light wasn’t good enough to tell but, from the rhythmic movement of its chest and occasional snort, it was asleep. Satisfied he, or she, was unaware of her presence, Vicky turned her attention to the older girl.
Social Services named her as Anna May Crofton. She was eighteen years old. Their mother had recently died of ovarian cancer, and she had disappeared with her sister on the day that Social Services had come to collect the young girl and place her in foster care. Having met their case worker, Angel Mallard, Vicky could understand the young woman’s fear. Add to that the terrible stories of sexual abuse of children in care homes by gangs of paedophiles that had scandalised the country in recent years, and Vicky sympathised with the girls. She studied Anna’s face. Contusions were apparent on her forehead, one eye was bruised and swollen, but they were consistent with the injuries Vicky had noticed at the mall before the bombs had detonated which meant they weren’t the result of her current situation. The creak of someone moving in a bed upstairs spurred Vicky on. She tapped Anna’s hand.
“Anna,” she whispered, with one eye on the lumpy form in the corner, and instantly placing a finger against her lips as Anna woke. “Please, don’t make a noise. I’m not here to harm you.” Startled eyes stared back wild with confusion, but Anna remained mute and still. Vicky continued. “Anna, I’m PC Vicky Al Farad. I’m here to help you.” The girl nodded. “I’m sorry that I scared you at the mall, but you must understand that the people you are with are very dangerous.”
Anna’s eyes widened a little more, then she glanced at her sister. “What do you mean, ‘dangerous’?” she whispered
“They traffic drugs. They’re part of a county lines operation.” Anna seemed to understand so Vicky continued. “They use people like you and your sister to sell drugs on the streets. Sometimes - and this is why it is so important that you come with me now - the girls, even young girls, are prostituted.” Anna sat up, fully alert now. “Anna, this particular gang have recently moved into human trafficking.”
“Oh my God!”
Vicky gestured for Anna to lower her voice. “Wake Jemima. I want you both to come with me.”
“And go where?”
“Back to my house. You’ll be safe there.”
“And then you’ll hand us in to Social Services!”
“No ... well ...”
“You will!”
“Shh! Anna, please keep your voice down.”
“My sister can’t go into care. I don’t care what you say, it’s not safe for her.”
“And this is?” Vicky gestured to the room. “This gang sell girls like your sister ... and you! They sell them to the highest bidder. Have you any idea what happens to those girls?”
“No! Yes!” She rose from the sofa. The sleeping bag pooled at her feet.
“Then come with me.”
“We’ll leave here, but we’re not coming with you.”
“You’ll be safe. I promise. Maybe there’s an alternative? I have connections, I know lots of people who could help you both.” Vicky scrabbled for ideas; she had to get the girls out of this house. “Maybe we could arrange for you to be Jemima’s guardian? You could get a job, a house-” Vicky’s words came to an abrupt halt as the front door opened. Heavy grunts were followed by the front door slamming shut.
“They’re back! Hide!”
Vicky scanned the room, heart pumping. There was nowhere to hide. The living room was filled by the L-shaped sofa, a small table holding the television sat in the corner, the fattish figure filled the chair in the other corner. In the dining room area was a table and chairs and that was it! The door from the hallway opened, and male voices grew loud. Vicky sprinted across the room to stand in the shadow beside the chimney breast, holding herself still, breath caught in her throat, as Callum ‘Frostie’ Frost, Gregor Zekovic, and the smaller, wiry man with dark hair, as yet unnamed, walked noisily into the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Anna quickly averted her eyes from the space beside the chimney breast to face Gregor, Callum, and Jake. Their presence filled the room. Already pale, Gregor’s face had lost all colour, and Callum helped him to the sofa. As he was enable
d to sit, the policewoman slipped into the kitchen. The men made no sign they were aware of her presence.
“What happened?”
“We were attacked,” Callum explained.
“In a supermarket.” Gregor took over the story. “The doors were open, so we went inside to find something for my girls to eat. I went deep inside to the chiller for the milk and cereal Jem requested for her breakfast. Looter jumped me and stabbed me in shoulder”
“Oh my God!”
“It’s my fault he’s hurt?” Jem cried.
“No, of course not!”
“What can I do to help?” Anna asked, all thoughts of the policewoman gone.
The next minutes were spent setting up the camping stove the men had brought back as Gregor supervised. Callum placed it on the coffee table at Gregor’s instruction and it began to warm the room whilst water boiled in a tin kettle. Ten minutes later, Callum handed painkillers to Gregor as Anna stirred coffee into three mugs and instant hot chocolate into another for Jem. Gregor patted the sofa, encouraging Jem to sit beside him, and reassured her the injuries weren’t her fault. As they sipped coffee, Anna recounted the events of the evening, mentioning Toadie’s refusal to let them out of the door. Fat and snoring, deep in a drug-aided sleep, Toadie was oblivious to them all.
“I wanted to go home,” Jem added. “He wouldn’t let us leave.”
Gregor smiled. “He is only doing as I ask. It is too dangerous for you out there.”
“It’s like we’re prisoners,” Anna ventured, remembering Vicky’s words and watching Gregor’s reaction.
“No, not prisoners, but Toadie did the right thing.”
“You can’t stop us leaving!”
“No, of course not, you are free to leave whenever you want. You came here with Callum. I asked you to stay from respect.”
“Respect?”
“Yes, you helped my friend when he was in need. Now you are in need, so I help you.”
“Sure, but-”
“Is dangerous outside, Anna. If men attack a big man like me, what will they do to nice little girl like Jem, or sexy lady like yourself.”
Heat prickled Anna’s cheeks at Gregor’s words. Jem laughed out loud. “Anna’s not sexy!”
“Stop it, Jem!”
“Sexy Anna!”
Anna’s cheeks burned as Gregor caught her eyes, holding them for several uncomfortable seconds. “Yes, Anna Crofton, you are a sexy lady. In my country, when the war came, the sexy ladies were the ones who needed protection most.”
Anna’s mouth dried and the embarrassed smile she had failed to keep from her face slipped. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that bad things happened to them ... bad things I cannot talk about in front of your sister.”
“Oh.”
“Bad things?” Jem asked.
“You understand?”
“Yes,” Anna replied ignoring Jem.
“So, you stay here tonight. And tomorrow night also. Yes?”
“Yes. Okay. I guess it’s for the best.”
“Good. I have new sleeping bags for you.” He gestured to the large rucksacks stacked against the wall. “Callum will get them. And I have cereals and milk for breakfast.”
“You got them even though you were attacked?” Jem asked in awe.
“Of course. The man who attacked me is no longer problem, and I have to look after my girls.” Gregor’s smile broadened, and despite the strange horror of the day, Anna relaxed, took a sleeping bag from Callum and placed it as an extra layer over Jem.
With Gregor and Callum gone, the gas stove turned off, and Toadie forced awake and bundled upstairs, Anna fell into a fitful, unsettling sleep, until she became aware of Jem sitting up. Used to her sister’s habit of talking in her sleep, she mumbled for her to lay back down. Ignoring her, Jem stood, walked to the window, peered outside, then screamed.
“Jem!” Anna hissed, startled and now fully awake. “Be quiet!” she whispered. “You’ll wake everyone up.” Jem had a habit of getting up in the night and wandering around the house. Despite its regular occurrence Anna still found it a little creepy to watch her sister move about unseeing, but with her eyes wide open. Generally, their mother would guide Jem back to bed, but since her illness then death, the chore had fallen to Anna. She rose, placing a hand on Jem’s shoulder to guide her back to the sofa. “Come on, Jem, back to sleep.”
“I’m not sleepwalking, Anna! There was a woman outside. She was dressed all in black and staring in at the window.”
Anna realised immediately that she was talking about the policewoman. “You’re just dreaming, Jem.”
“I wasn’t’! I wasn’t! It was Angel Mallard!” Jem’s voice rose to a peak. “She’s come to get me. She’s come to take me away.”
“No, Jem,” Anna said, realising her sister was on the verge of hysteria. “It was a lady called Vicky. She’s a policewoman, and she’s come to rescue us.”
“Rescue us? I’m not going anywhere.”
“But Jem-”
“No! She’ll take me away from you. She’ll put me into a home.”
“No, she said-”
“Gregor!” Jem shouted, turning from Anna. “Gregor! Help!”
“No, Jem! No. Be quiet. Please!”
Jem sprinted from the room, her heavy steps thudding upstairs.
Only minutes later, as Anna searched for Vicky through the window, Gregor and Callum appeared. Neither had made a noise coming down the stairs and, despite his injury, Gregor held a long wooden baseball bat.
“She was out the front, Gregor,” Jem said as she followed them into the room. “You won’t let her take me, will you!”
“No,” Gregor replied. “Now sit down, little chickie, I will get rid of her. You have nothing to be afraid of.” Gregor moved to the front window, peering into the street. In silence, he walked to the back window. “Hah!” he whispered. “There she is.” Instructing Callum to head her off from the back of the house, he stepped through to the kitchen and outside into the yard. In the next second a woman yelped. Anna pulled back the curtains to see Gregor raise the bat above the prone figure of the policewoman. She scrabbled against the snow, trying to pull herself away from the towering and muscular figure. The tip of the bat was on track to slam into the woman’s head. Anna rapped on the window. Gregor turned, distracted by the noise.
Vicky scrambled to her feet, running to the end of the house, bowling past Callum. Her pounding footsteps echoed through the passageway then became soft thuds as she ran to the front of the house. Gregor disappeared after her, and Anna followed the drama by running to the front window. Further along the road, Vicky ran with a limp and disappeared into the night as Gregor watched from the front gate.
“Is she gone?” Jem asked as soon as he stepped back into the living room. Barefoot and shirtless, he held the bat in one hand, moonlight casting cold light across his injured and scarred torso. Jem launched herself across the room, circling his waist with her arms.
“Ouff!” he said, obviously in pain.
“Jem!”
“Leave her,” Gregor commanded. “She is afraid.” He gestured for Callum to take the bat. “Now, Anna,” He said with a stern voice. “You tell me exactly why this woman come here for you and Jem.”
“She’s from Social Services,” Jem answered. “They want to put me into care,”
“Care? You mean home for orphans?”
“Uhuh.” Jem clung a little tighter to Gregor’s waist.
“No. This woman was not from the Social Services. This woman was from Police.” He gave Anna a hard stare. “Now you must tell me why she is here, Anna.”
“I recognised her from the mall. She is a copper,” Callum confirmed.
Gregor’s jaw clenched as he listened to Anna’s explanation. She left nothing out of her story since the death of her mother, and how, in the past days, their life had spiralled from grief to despair and then horror. “She was watching me at the ATM when Callum offered to help.”
“Suki?”
“It’s the first name that came into my head.”
“Is dog’s name. My brother has dog called Suki.”
“Sorry, but it was all I could think of.”
“And then the bombs went off,” Anna continued, ignoring Jem’s laugh. “And now we’re here.”
“And she knew your true name?”
Anna nodded. “But Callum saved me, he told her my name was Suki and that she’d got the wrong woman,” she repeated.
“I don’t believe it.”
“What?” Anna said in confusion; she had told nothing but the truth. “It’s exactly what happened.”
“Yes, I am sure it is but this woman ... She was not looking for you ...” His voice trailed away, and he stared beyond her then said, “We leave. This house is not safe for us.”
“Can we come?” Jem asked.
“Yes, Jem. You can come.”
“But where are we going to go?”
“You do not worry. I have house. Nice house,” Gregor said with confidence. Then with a snarling tone, he added, “No one will hurt Gregor’s girls.”
‘They’re bad men, Anna. You and your sister aren’t safe.’ Vicky’s words of warning repeated in Anna’s mind as Gregor laid out his plan for the morning. The description of a human-trafficking, drug-pushing monster who would use and abuse them both, just didn’t match the caring tower of strength that stood before her with its reassuring arm around Jem’s shoulder.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Gregor Zekovic’s boot had caught the back of Vicky’s head and pain throbbed throughout her skull. Grazed as her face had been forced to slide against the snow, biting cold stung at her cheek, and the pain in her back where he had kicked her with massive force came from deep within her core.
Dark Winter Series (Book 1): Dark Winter Page 13