by Diane Saxon
If he didn’t come back soon, she was going to die from dehydration. She could only assume he’d gone to work. The rapid flutter of her heart slowed down for a moment while she concentrated on her breathing, then raced off again as soon as her attention strayed.
The pain in her face almost distracted her attention from her swollen, dry tongue. As she glanced down, she became aware of the sight of her own cheekbone in her eyeline, distended and blue. She couldn’t remember each knock she’d suffered, but the one on her cheek throbbed like hell.
She raised her right hand only to have it jerk to a standstill as the handcuffs gave a metallic rattle to remind her she was trapped.
With detached observation, Fliss studied them, wriggled her hand, only to regret it as the weight of them gave a sharp bang against her wrist bone in a cruel reminder she was his prisoner.
She rolled forward to stare at the handcuffs again, felt the swell of dizziness push her further over, but clenched her jaw and leaned down anyway. She could hardly hurt herself more than she already had, but she needed a closer look at the cuffs. Her sister had exactly the same pair from when she’d first joined the force. They were never used any more because they had been replaced by plastic ties.
She wriggled the fingers on her good hand, compared them to the dirtier pink stubs she could see poking out of her cast, her mind a constant marshmallow sludge as she trailed her gaze over her legs once more. No wonder she was unable to hold on to a single strand of thought. Except for the dull ache which filled the empty cavity of her chest. Beyond the sickness came a sharp shaft of pain to drag a wild sob from the depths of her soul.
‘Domino.’
She dragged in a hiccupping gasp, the burn in her chest sending it tighter while she struggled to blow out again without a keening cry emerging from her lips. He couldn’t hear her; she didn’t want to risk the man hearing her. He’d know then how terrified she was. He’d know he’d hurt her. She couldn’t bear the thought of him gaining sadistic pleasure from her pain. And he would, she’d watched it in the dark swirl of his gaze.
‘Domino.’ Her voice a dry croak, she was careful to lie herself back down on the metal cot, wriggling her legs to coax the thin blanket back over herself while tears slid down her temples and she hiccupped in small sobs. ‘Domino.’
He’d saved her life, saved her sanity from one man who believed he should control her body and soul, just to sacrifice himself to a man who now had total control of her.
She gave a dry swallow. Except he didn’t. Just as Ed had controlled her body, and for a time her thoughts, her soul had still been free and, with Domino’s help, she’d set the rest of herself free too.
But Domino was no longer there. The man had killed him. She forced herself to remember, delved into her own dark memories. The loud crack as the man hit her Dalmatian, the wild thrashing through the undergrowth as Domino had flipped over and over into the darkness where she could no longer see him. He’d not made a sound. Not even a quiet whimper. There’d been no further movement, only from the man.
She slammed her eyes closed, she didn’t want to remember. The tears dried and still her muscles refused to relax until her mind acknowledged what it needed her to remember. The body. She’d been unable to see it in the dark, but she’d held the hand, slipped the ring off the shrunken finger into the palm of her own hand and held on.
‘Stupid bitch,’ he’d grizzled as he’d taken the final step down before bright lights filled her vision, and then nothing. Nothing until she’d woken a prisoner in a cell.
19
Sunday 28 October, 08:00 hrs
‘Juliette Alpha 76, this is Control.’
Jenna snapped up the radio and depressed the speak button. ‘Juliette Alpha 76 receiving.’
‘We’ve had a report of a disturbance on Benthall Edge, are you available?’ The operator’s monotone voice dragged across the Airwaves.
Jenna bumped the heel of her hand against her forehead. ‘Jesus, don’t they know I’m not available for enquiries like this? What are they thinking of? Benthall Edge.’ It could be information about her sister, or her sister’s abductor. It could be her sister, for crying out loud. And she wasn’t allowed to go. Although the temptation to simply snatch up the job almost got the better of her. She slanted a look at Adrian. She swore he could read her thoughts. She gave a heavy sigh before she depressed the talk button. ‘Negative Control, try Juliette Alpha 24.’
The sharp trill of the telephone almost had her leaping out of her black leather boots.
She grabbed the receiver, held it to her ear, her voice sharper than she intended. ‘Sergeant Morgan speaking.’
‘Sergeant Morgan. I have a woman at the front counter who’d like to speak with someone.’
‘Is no one else available, Len?’ Irritation laced her voice as she ground her teeth at the interruption. She hadn’t even been to the incident room yet. She had no update on her sister since she’d left the previous evening and lack of sleep made her snappy.
‘Quite honestly, Sarg, no. Everyone else is tied up on… other cases.’ Her sister’s.
‘What about uniform?’
‘I think she’d rather see a female, plain clothes.’ His voice dropped. ‘She’s here to report a rape.’
‘Her rape?’
‘Yes, Sarg.’
Jenna closed her eyes and pressed her hands over her eyes. What the hell was going on? Why did everyone suddenly want her to deal with stuff? She could have sworn they had a conspiracy to keep her distracted.
She drew in a calming breath; grateful Len couldn’t see her.
‘See her into interview room one, I’ll be there in just a minute.’ She surged to her feet, slamming down the telephone as she charged to the office door, the idea of a self-indulgent cry no longer an option.
Aware of her shadow beside her, she marched along the corridor, listened to the slap of her boots as she raced down the stairs, almost grateful for the diversion. There was nothing productive she could do for her sister right now, so she might as well try and make someone else’s world a little better.
She nodded at Len on her dash through, but his nasal voice halted her mid-stride. ‘Interview one is occupied, I put her in three.’
‘Thanks, Len.’ He knew she never liked two, she found it too small, too claustrophobic.
‘Sarg?’
She stopped again, turned to face him. For some reason, Len always had the ability to irritate her. His slow, insistent perfectionism did it. It wasn’t his fault, in fact it made him a genius at his job on the front counter. Precision was exactly what they needed, but so many times, speed would have been a little more important. She raised her eyebrows as she waited, impatient for him to speak.
His cool gaze swirled with sympathy as he peered at her over the top of his glasses. ‘I’m sorry to hear about your sister. I hope they find her alive.’
Slam.
Just like that, her mind flew, and her heart thundered. Alive. She’d never allowed herself to believe Fliss could possibly be dead. Never. She wasn’t dead. Jenna would find her.
Light-headed, she forced her frozen lips to move. ‘Thank you.’
She knew it had been nothing but concern that made Len say that, but pain sliced her heart. She swivelled on her heel and let herself into interview room three, leaving Adrian to decide whatever the hell he wanted to do, but he wasn’t coming in with her. This was her scene. It had nothing to do with her sister and he wasn’t welcome inside.
She closed the door and leaned against it.
Dark, haunted eyes greeted her, and she wondered what the young girl saw as she stared back at her. Not too dissimilar a look, if the pain Jenna felt in her heart was reflected in her expression.
She shoved aside her own emotions and straightened her shoulders.
‘Hello. I’m Detective Sergeant Jenna Morgan.’
She reached out her hand, enclosed the young woman’s icy one in hers. It wasn’t always the right thing to do, to touch
someone, but Jenna sensed this girl needed the human contact.
She dug deep to find the compassion in her soul to deal with another’s pain when hers was so wracking. She consulted her notes. ‘Estelle, would you like to tell me what happened?’
Sunday 28 October 13:15 hrs
Adrian had gone. She couldn’t expect him to hang around while she interviewed her rape victim and arranged for a sexual offences liaison officer to take over from her, but she was unprepared for the rush of disappointment when she realised he wasn’t there. Already his quiet, supportive presence had made itself felt.
He’d been outside the interview room when she stopped for a comfort break the first time and dogged her footsteps down the hallway while Donna had sat with Estelle. By the third break, he’d removed himself to the comfort of her office, where he’d raised his head to acknowledge her as she drew open her desk drawer and grabbed a small bar of chocolate.
She checked the obvious places, but with no further time to spare, she dragged her phone from her pocket and stared at the time. If she wanted to be in on the arrest, she needed to get a move on. And she did want to be in on the arrest. It meant locating the frustrating Chief Prosecutor while everyone else rallied. She’d given them thirty minutes to get everything they needed, but she needed something else. Something more. She needed to know whether there’d been any progress with her sister’s case. The new case she’d caught had been a welcome distraction, but several hours had passed since she last checked in on the incident room. She slipped into the almost empty room.
‘Hey Frank, how’s it going?’
Not much taller than her, Frank’s wide, bony shoulders rounded in a slight hunch and his waistline had thickened, expanding each year she’d known him. She touched the sleeve of his woollen jacket. His slicked-back hair had thinned recently, giving his broad forehead a wider appearance.
He rubbed his hands together, gaze firmly fixed on the incident board. ‘Nothing. There’s nothing going on. Nobody saw anything, no evidence, no leads.’
She stepped closer, narrowing her gaze to see what he could. Efficient at his job, she knew there wouldn’t be a piece of evidence out of place, but there had to be something, a hint, a lead. ‘How can we have nothing? Surely…’
His sigh was heartfelt. ‘Essentially, we’ve got nothing to go on. It’s a perfect dead-end.’ The hint of admiration in his voice drew her attention. ‘Sorry, Sarg, I know it’s your sister, but this man is clever. He’s covered his tracks and when he hasn’t, he’s had them covered for him. A mixture of great planning and a good dollop of luck.’
She gazed up at the board again. ‘Do you believe he’s the murderer and the kidnapper?’
With a sharp nod, he met her gaze. ‘Inevitably, he has to be.’
She stared at the information in front of her. There was nothing new. No more evidence. ‘Any updates on the door-to-door?’
‘Nothing fresh. No reports of a disturbance apart from a couple of people who heard the initial scream, but never thought to call it in. They’re feeling guilty now, though.’
She nodded as she flicked through the file to see if anything new leapt out at her. ‘CCTV?’
‘Nothing beyond the initial sightings. No CCTV beyond the Bridge.’
Disappointment scratched at her conviction that Fliss was still alive.
‘Has the victim been identified yet?’
‘No.’
‘What about the press release?’
Frank slipped a page in front of her and she skimmed through it.
BODY FOUND IN WOODLAND AT IRONBRIDGE,
POLICE SEEKING WITNESSES
At 16:35 on Friday 26 October, police received a call from a member of the public reporting they could hear screams from what appeared to be a female in the wooded area on the Broseley side of the Ironbridge.
Police attended and, following a short search of the area, located a body partially covered in the undergrowth just a short distance from the riverbank between the Ironbridge and the cooling towers at Ironbridge power station.
A police spokesperson said,
“At this time, details are still limited. We know the deceased to be female, but we do not know the timescales in which the body may have been there. A post-mortem will be carried out in due course.
The scene has been cordoned off and detailed searches will be undertaken until we are satisfied that all evidence from the scene has been recovered. We would request that the public and media refrain from visiting the area.
We are seeking any witnesses who may have been in the area between the hours of 15:00 and 17:00 and heard any screaming or other event which may lead us to identify the person and or trace other witnesses.
Current investigations show that a woman in her twenties has been reported missing from the same area and although we are not currently connecting the incidents at this time, we would request the public remain vigilant. The description we have for the missing woman is 5’11’, slim build, long blonde hair. No distinguishing features. Last seen wearing a red jacket and jeans walking a large Dalmatian.
In addition, we will be checking for any outstanding missing person reports and request that if anyone has not heard from a relative or friend and is concerned for their welfare but has not reported them as missing they should get in touch with us.
The investigation is being led by DI Taylor.”
Standard. Impersonal. Clinical. Professional.
Jenna nodded. ‘Thanks, Frank.’
Frank turned away from the board and stepped into her space, dark eyes filled with torturous pain, mouth turned down at the edges in agonising sympathy. ‘Len told me you caught a rape case. How did it go?’
She hadn’t time for his over-sympathetic pity especially when she suspected it was more to do with her sister than the rape victim. It was hard, when she knew he cared so much, but sometimes for the sake of self-preservation, you had to turn off certain feelings.
She took a moment before she replied. ‘As well as can be expected.’
‘Was she telling the truth?’
Jenna blinked at Frank, taken by surprise by his line of questioning. ‘Yeah, yeah, definitely. I’ve raised a warrant for the suspect’s arrest. We’ll get it sorted.’
‘Was it someone she knew?’
‘Yeah. It normally is. He was her boyfriend.’ Jenna raised a hand, flicked her hair back and made for the door to the stairs. She needed to get on with her work, not spend time looking over an incident desk she wasn’t even allowed to be involved in. She should never have come in, she had enough to concentrate on without taking time out every five minutes to check on progress on her sister’s case. She swung open the door.
‘Oh, Sergeant Morgan.’
She paused, repressed the desire to huff at him. ‘Yes, Frank?’
White light poured down from the harsh ceiling lights, casting his face into shadow, so his eyes were obscured from her view. ‘I’m sure they’ll find Felicity soon.’
Her throat tightened. ‘Fliss. We call her Fliss.’
She let the door whisper shut behind her, aware, as she took the stairs up two at a time, of Frank’s observation through the interior windows which displayed the staircase all the way to her office.
It wasn’t Frank’s fault. Everyone knew Fliss was missing. There was no getting away from it, but Jenna’s hands were tied, there was nothing she could do until they questioned Ed, the little shit. They probably already had. She just had to bide her time until they saw fit to let her know what progress had been made. She’d chase them down later after she made her own arrest.
In her office, she lowered herself into her chair. She’d left the door wide open as it normally was, not to show she was coping, but so she’d see the moment Mason and Ryan came back from observations. She could hardly leap on Salter and Wainwright, but she’d tweak young Ryan’s ear to get him into her office and Mason would saunter in, all relaxed and casual despite the worry in the depths of his perceptive dark blue eyes.
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She raised the paperwork for the arrest of Stuart Roddick, made the calls she needed to make. Kept notes on the system, more than normal as she knew with the distractions, she’d possibly miss a step, forget something in the process.
Her sister was her sister. But Fliss was someone else’s victim. Professionally, nothing to do with Jenna. Jenna needed to put her faith in Salter and Wainwright that they would do their duty on Fliss’s behalf. DI Taylor called the shots. She was theirs now and Jenna had to have faith they’d do their best for her. Jenna may badger them, poke at them, pester them, but she had her own victims to stand for and the young woman she’d left in the care of SOLO was now on her way to hospital to undergo tests. The boyfriend would be arrested shortly and brought in for questioning and the one thing she had to do for the sake of the victim she stood for was remain alert and engaged.
She swiped her fingers through her hair, she needed…
Adrian walked through the open doorway, a takeout cup from her favourite coffee spot clutched in each hand. He raised one, a dark eyebrow flicked up.
She wiggled her fingers. ‘Gimme.’
His mouth twitched into a smile as he handed one cup over. She lifted the lid and inhaled. The rich aroma of real, strong, dark coffee hit her senses and shed the blanket of tiredness which had threatened.
‘Yes, you’re a lifesaver.’
He plonked himself into the seat opposite and peeled the lid off his own coffee.
‘What have you got?’ She stretched her neck to get a closer look and he tilted the oversized cup towards her.
‘Full fat gingerbread latte.’
‘You’re kidding me? You go for that crap?’
‘Sure, but I didn’t think you would. You strike me as a straight up, bring it on, full-strength, black, unsweetened kind of girl.’