Locked Away (DI Sara Ramsey Book 13)

by M A Comley

  “No. I’ll do what you want. Please, please, don’t hurt me.”

  “We’ll see. Be good and I won’t hurt you. If, however, you go against your word, well, there’s no telling where it will lead. Get to your feet and come with me.”

  Brittany did as she was told. Libby pushed the woman ahead of her, retaining a grip on her right arm.

  “Sit down.”

  Brittany fell into the seat, struck dumb by the sight of Jennifer tied to the chair and all the silver instruments lying on the floor between the two chairs. Libby worked quickly to secure Brittany in the same way she had Jennifer. The two women stared at each other, fear and trepidation in equal measures etched into their expressions.

  “Okay. Now I have your full attention, ladies, let me tell you what is about to happen. Over the next few days, you guys—are you listening, Amanda and Ashleigh? All of you are going to entertain me. How? I hear you ask. By torturing each other.”

  Jennifer gasped and shook her head. “No, I refuse to do it.”

  Brittany’s gaze switched from Jennifer to Libby. Her eyes widened, and her head slowly twisted from side to side. “I agree, this is barbaric. I won’t have any part in this. You can’t force us to do it.”

  Libby withdrew a ten-inch butcher’s knife from a sheath in the back of her jeans. “Oh, but I can, and I will, if I have to. You don’t want to know what the consequences are. Even the smallest things in this life have consequences. Do you remember, back in the day, how you used to treat me, ladies?”

  Her head swivelled between Jennifer and Brittany.

  Jennifer whispered, “I’m… we’re sorry. We shouldn’t have treated you the way we did. We were young and didn’t realise what we were doing back then.”

  “Old enough to know better, I’d say, and still, it didn’t prevent you from getting your kicks out of bullying me. Me, a quiet, unassuming little girl, who kept her nose clean at school and her head down in the classroom because she wanted to gain the qualifications needed to improve her life. Let’s face it, I didn’t have much of one, you know, being a full-time carer for my disabled mother from the age of eight, after my father walked out on us. But did you care?” Her eyes narrowed, and she ran her finger down the cold edge of the steel. “No, you couldn’t have given a shit about what I was going through. The suffering I had to endure. The fact I fell asleep during my meals most nights, exhausted after being at school all day, nipping home at lunchtime to feed and change my mother if she’d had an accident and soiled her knickers, then returning to school for more lessons. Bolting home at the end of the day to tend to my mother’s needs again and to prepare the evening meal before bathing her and putting her to bed, all that before I had to do my homework.”

  “I didn’t know any of this at the time,” Jennifer murmured inadequately.

  “And why is that? I’ll answer for you, because it was all about you back in the day. You didn’t care what was going on in anyone else’s life. Selfish brats, the lot of you. Cruel, evil, selfish bitches.”

  Brittany’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

  “Lost for words, that’s unlike you, Brittany. In those days, you and Jennifer were the ones ordering the other girls what to do to me, or has that part slipped your mind? Your appalling behaviour destroyed my life.” She began walking in a circle around them. “The only thing that prevented me from taking my own life was the fact that my beloved, disabled mother needed me. However, going to school every day, suffering the indignation of being bullied, ridiculing me in front of all the other kids, had a demoralising effect on my existence. You didn’t care, as long as you lot came out on top, right? Did either of you stop to consider the devastation you were causing to my life?”

  Both women shook their heads. A tear dripped onto Brittany’s cheek. Libby leaned in close and removed it with the blade. “Are those tears for me and what you put me through? Or are they for the position you find yourself in today? No, don’t bother, I think I can guess it’s the latter. Shame on you. However, I’m far from surprised. Selfish to the core, that’s what you are now and what you all were during our schooldays.”

  “I’m not being selfish. I’m genuinely upset by what you’ve shared with us. None of us knew the extent of your hardship. We presumed you were from a lower-class family, that’s why we teased you.”

  “Teased? Pushing my head into a muddy puddle for thirty seconds at a time, you call that teasing me? It was outright bullying. You got away with it because of who your parents were, and the fact that yes, you were a different class to me. I’ll tell you this, though, it didn’t make you better than me.”

  “We regret our actions. It was a grave mistake at the time, but we can’t be held responsible for what we did twenty years ago,” Brittany said, finally finding her voice.

  “Why not? After all, I’m still living with the consequences, up here.” Libby prodded her forehead. “You didn’t know it at the time, but your actions messed with my head. Your humiliation crippled me emotionally for years.”

  “How many more times do we have to say it?” Jennifer asked. “We’re sorry.”

  Libby folded one arm over the other and tapped the point of the blade against her cheek. “Here’s where the problem lies: how do I know you’re sorry? You don’t look sorry. You seem scared and in fear for your own lives, but I’m not seeing any proof of remorse.”

  “You’re wrong. We’re both remorseful, have been for years in my case,” Brittany was quick to add.

  “And yet you never got in touch with me to offer any form of apology over the years. Hard to figure out that one, Brittany, if you don’t mind me saying. Anyway, let’s move on and get the games underway.”

  “You’re sick, you can’t do this,” Jennifer shouted, her fighting spirit emerging.

  “Shut up! Don’t say that. Why don’t you keep your mouth shut for once in your life, Jen? You can see she means it.”

  Jennifer glared at Brittany after her outburst as if detesting her for challenging her leadership, at least that’s how Libby read the situation.

  “Come now, ladies, let’s not fall out with each other, not yet. Right, Brittany, you’re up first, no arguments, I have decided on your fate for you. Pick an instrument?”

  Brittany’s gaze drifted down to the tools ominously lying on the floor beside her. She shuddered and let out a staggered breath. “I can’t, please don’t force me to do this.”

  Libby shrugged and slashed at Brittany’s cheek with the blade, catching them both off guard. “That’s your choice. I’ll just stand here making crisscross patterns with my knife until you reconsider.”

  Brittany sobbed. “You can’t make us do this. It’s barbaric and disgusting.”

  “No more barbaric than bullying a thirteen-year-old for the rest of her schooldays, just for fun, was it?”

  “No. We were wrong. Please, that’s all in the past now. You have to forgive us and move on, for all our sakes.”

  The blade took on a life of its own and slashed Brittany’s other cheek, only lightly, but the warning signs were there for both women to realise that Libby’s patience had run out. Brittany sobbed until snot ran from her nose and over her lips.

  “Let’s try this one more time. Choose an implement, Brittany.”

  Brittany shook her head and closed her eyes. Tears seeped through her lashes and dripped onto her lap. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I haven’t got it in me to be wicked.”

  Libby roared at the barefaced hypocrisy. “Okay, you’ve had your chance. You’re right, I can’t force you, not really. But you’ll change your mind come the end.” She turned to face Jennifer and held the bloody blade up in the air. “This is down to you now. Choose a weapon, and don’t give me any bullshit. In case either of you haven’t noticed, my patience is wearing very thin now. Something you should be aware of.”

  “I’ll take the scissors,” Jennifer replied promptly.

  Libby reached down to retrieve the scissors and placed them in Jennifer’s hand
. “I’ve still got ‘Billy the Blade’ to hand, so no funny business.”

  “I won’t. What do you want me to do now?” Jennifer’s voice trembled.

  “I don’t care, as long as you hurt Brittany in some way.” Libby grinned.

  Jennifer mouthed an apology to Brittany and reached out to grab a clump of her hair. She sliced through it with the scissors and threw the offcut on the floor.

  “You bitch. You were always envious of my hair, weren’t you?” Brittany shouted through gritted teeth.

  “Not any more.” Jennifer laughed.

  “Okay, now we’re getting into the spirit of things, ladies. Brittany, are you still going to refuse?”

  “No way. Give me the ones two from the end on the right.”

  Libby nodded and picked up the long tweezers, wondering what Brittany was about to do with them.

  “Can you move my chair closer and hold her right hand still for me?”

  Libby did as she was requested. Shifted Brittany’s chair a few inches and then seized Jennifer’s right hand.

  “No, please, don’t let her do this to me,” Jennifer cried out, horrified.

  “You didn’t hesitate when it was your turn,” Brittany sneered. “Stop whining.”

  Libby held tight as the tweezers got closer to Jennifer’s hand. “No, don’t. Agh…” Jennifer screamed.

  Brittany appeared dazed by what she’d done. She stared at the fingernail stuck to the tweezers for a few seconds and then threw them on the floor. “Oh God. Tell me I didn’t do that. I’m so sorry.”

  “You fucking whore. You always were a bloody sadist. Right, that’s it. You’ve asked for this.”

  Libby held the laughter in. Her plan had worked. She would stand back and let the women do what came naturally to them, tear each other to shreds. She’d let them have their fun for the next few hours and then place them back in their cells and bring the other two out, force them into battle.

  Revenge, a perfect blend of pleasure and gratification.

  Jennifer and Brittany looked a bloody mess, literally, within an hour.

  “Have you had enough now?” Libby asked.

  The women glared at each other.

  “Have you?” Jennifer demanded.

  “Yep, you?” Brittany smirked.

  “Okay. That was fun. I’ll return you to your cells.”

  “Aren’t you going to let us go now?” Jennifer asked.

  “Oh no. Not yet. Come on, you’re first.” Libby loosened the rope and pushed Jennifer into her cell. The woman staggered a little on her way to her bed. Libby suspected her legs had been weakened because of the blood she’d lost.

  “How long do you intend to keep us here?”

  “As long as it takes for you to realise what you did was wrong. I don’t think it’s sunk in, not yet.”

  “It has. You’re making a grave mistake. You won’t be able to get away with this.”

  Libby laughed and leaned in close. “Won’t I?” She left the room and locked the door. Then, once she’d untied the woman, she saw a tearful but furious Brittany back to her cell. “Go on, admit it, you enjoyed that as much as I did.”

  “Hardly,” she mumbled, flinging herself on top of her bed. “Why are you doing this? We’ve apologised over and over, but you’re not taking any notice of us.”

  “I am. It’s just not yet enough to make up for what you put me through all those years ago. You need to be taught a lesson.”

  Not wanting to hear the woman whining any longer, she left the cell. After tidying up the tools, she laid them out again and then fetched the other women, one at a time, from their cells. Amanda and Ashleigh tried to put up a fight, especially Ashleigh as Libby secured them to the chairs.

  “Sit still, you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

  Both women adhered to her warning, their gazes drawn to the blood surrounding them and the implements of torture lying beside them.

  Ashleigh shook her head. “I can’t do this, Amanda. Can you?”

  Tears cascaded down Amanda’s hot cheeks. “No, I can’t… I’m pregnant!”

  Libby almost dropped the knife she was holding. “You’re what?”

  “I’m pregnant. Around eight weeks. Please, I can’t do this, not with my baby to consider.”

  Libby sighed. “Nice try, bitch.” She slashed Amanda around the face with the knife. “Don’t try and fool me.”

  Amanda recoiled into her chair and screamed. “I’m not lying. Look in my bag, I have a scan booked next month. Please, you have to believe me. Do you really want an unborn baby’s life on your conscience?”

  Libby took stock of what had taken place so far. The boundaries she had pushed, by forcing the other two women to torture each other in a game of ‘survival of the fittest’. Huge doubts and the ramifications of her actions bombarded her mind. She paced the floor, sorting through the list of uncertainties and then decided to put the women back in their cells until she’d properly thought about the options open to all of them.

  She left the lockup and drove home, more and more perplexed by the situation that had arisen in the past few minutes. She hadn’t even considered that one of the women might be pregnant. So much for my extensive research into their backgrounds et cetera. How the fuck did I screw that one up? All right, so one mishap doesn’t necessarily mean this all has to come to a grinding halt. I still have an extra card up my sleeve: Nicole Davis.

  9

  Sara was relieved when the phones began to ring. The whole team were at it, talking with potential witnesses. She circulated the room, receiving either a thumbs-up or a depressed shake of the head from her colleagues. She did her best to keep their spirits up by supplying them with copious amounts of coffee throughout the morning and into the early afternoon. Sara even popped out on a sandwich run around one-thirty.

  By the time three o’clock arrived, after Sara had sifted through the information gathered, she came to the discouraging conclusion that very little had been obtained. The only redeeming fact was that someone had picked up a possible car leaving the crime scene at the back of Ashleigh Calder’s boutique on their dashcam. The man, Greg Marsden, was in the process of downloading the footage for them.

  Sara went back to her office, drained from living on her nerves for the majority of the day. Carla joined her with a cup of coffee for both of them.

  “How are you holding up?” Sara asked.

  “I’m fine. You look as if you’re thinking about jacking it all in.”

  “Really? Maybe the thought had fleetingly crossed my mind, but you know me, I’m not one to give up. Are you really fine? I’ve been watching you out there, so don’t try and pull the wool over my eyes.”

  “Ha, I wouldn’t dream of it. Majority of the time I’m just dandy, and then certain things seem to catch me out and make me take stock. I suppose I’ve had a few of those today.”

  “We all get them. It’s how we deal with them that can complicate things.”

  “I know. I’m trying my best to stay on course and not to get sidetracked.”

  “I have to say, you’re doing a fabulous job.”

  “Thanks. Umm… not sure if I should tell you this or not.” Carla’s gaze drifted over to the window.

  “Sounds worrying, go on.” She sensed Carla was going to say something about Des Williams. Sara tried to contain herself. Not let on how pleased she would be to see them pair up.

  Carla kept looking out of the window and said, “He rang me.”

  “Excuse me. Who rang you? No! Not Gary?”

  Carla gulped and turned her attention to Sara. “Yes, about ten minutes ago.”

  “What? The man is a bloody nightmare. What did he say?”

  “He was full of regrets.”

  “Don’t tell me you listened to his pitiful apology?” Sara’s gaze narrowed, trying to see beneath Carla’s unreadable exterior.

  “No. Of course not. We’re through, over with, and I told him as much.”

  “Phew, thank goodness fo
r that. Dare I ask what his reaction was?”

  “At first he was angry. I almost put the phone down on him.”

  You should have. I’m sensing the bastard is going to worm his way back into your life, unless someone better comes along, like Des! Behave, woman!

  “But you didn’t. May I ask why?”

  “I needed to hear him squirm, to say the words he’s never said before, that he regrets lashing out.”

  “And did he?” Sara picked up her cup and took a sip of her hot coffee.

  “No, not in the slightest. I saw through his call. It’s taken me a long time to realise I don’t need to deal with anyone else’s angst and anxieties. I’m my own person, I have a right to live a happy life, like you.”

  Sara smiled. “I am happy, although saying that, I doubt if I would be this happy if Mark wasn’t around. Hang in there. You never know, a prince charming might be around the corner, waiting to swoop.”

  “You’re so full of shit at times.”

  “I know, but it makes you smile. I miss your smile. You’re such a beautiful woman, Carla—when your face hasn’t been used as a punchbag, that is. No one has to put up with their fella laying a hand on them in that way. You have nothing to feel guilty about with regard to his accident. That’s his lookout, not yours. You should be able to live life without fearing if someone will take offence to what you say or even how you look at them. You hear me?”

  “Yes, I received the message loud and clear earlier.” She sighed, and her gaze dropped. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

  “There is? What’s that?” Sara had a notion what her partner was going to say next.

  “I… well, how do I say this?”

  “You let the words form in that intelligent brain of yours and it then transfers the message to your lips and the words tumble out. Give it a try, hon.”

  Carla laughed and shook her head. “You really do talk a lot of crap sometimes.”

  “I’ll claim that, it balances things out, because you know full well, I also talk a lot of sense at times, too.”

  “I’ll give you that. As I was saying before you interrupted me with your nonsense…” Carla paused and ran a finger around the top of her cup. “I won’t be home for dinner tonight.”