Scrolling back, he first read the file on Laura. Karen Redbridge’s details were now there, too, even though she hadn’t been abducted. Then he came to the last known abductee prior to Laura. One detail here caught his attention. The girl, Samantha Penny, was taken like the others, her parents and a sister murdered. The significant difference was that one further sister survived because she was staying with a friend the night it happened. Frank pondered this for a while, then spun around on the chair.
‘The Penny family,’ he called out. ‘April this year. From Peterborough. Either of you know whether the surviving sister, Tania, has been spoken to?’
‘Ask the database,’ Nicky said. ‘Field number seventeen lists the people questioned by either the SOCOs or investigating officers.’
Minutes later, Frank had the list on screen. Tania Penny’s name was there. He sat back and thought about it for a while. In her own way, Tania Penny was a survivor just like Karen Redbridge. Maybe it didn’t matter that she hadn’t been in the house at the time. Maybe she had seen some stranger or something odd prior to the murder and abduction that she hadn’t recognized as significant.
By the side of her name, in closed brackets, was a file number. The file would contain her statement. Frank exited the database and called up the word-processing software. He requested Tania’s file. Even as his fingers tapped out the codes, he reflected that the silicon chip had some advantages after all. How long would it have taken to establish and retrieve this information by hand?
He read the girl’s statement three times. She was eighteen, working in public relations for the local branch of a major insurance company. Her statement was concise and literate. She was obviously bright. Is she also observant? Frank wondered. He flipped open his notebook and jotted down the contact telephone number and address. At that moment, he didn’t know where it would lead – if anywhere. But he was starting to feel a familiar stirring in his gut that could not be ignored. He was about to discuss this aspect of the investigation with Warren and Nicky when the telephone on his desk rang and his heart almost stopped beating.
26
That’s it, Laura. Play with the things we left for you. You can enjoy your stay now. You didn’t want to before, but I can understand that. Could you smell me on them? Could you smell them? The other girls. I bet you could. I’ll just bet you could smell us all.
So, you kept away from the paper and books and games, did you? Afraid, perhaps? Revolted … definitely. But now you’re bored, aren’t you? You’re a bright young thing and you need something to occupy your mind. So, play with the nice games, read the books, draw and colour; anything but step inside the doll’s house again.
Oh, yes, I saw you in there. I was watching all the time, just waiting for you to disobey me. They all did eventually, so you’re not alone. You can’t see the cameras, Laura, but they can see you. They see everything. So much more than you ever will. And when I’m not able to watch you, I record every moment so I won’t miss a single heartbeat.
I am such a tease, aren’t I? Did I have you worried when I spoke about the doll’s house? You left the light on … such a giveaway. I had no need to look inside, but I thought it would be fun to have you fear me just a little more.
You’re the best yet, Laura. Far and away the best. Your light shines so brightly, like a star, or even a sun. I could not have ignored its call. You were destined to be mine, we were destined to be together, and still you have no idea what an honour that is.
How calm you are. How serene and dignified. You haven’t snivelled, you haven’t screamed, you haven’t cried out or tried to fight. The others were not as clever as you, Laura. Because you know, don’t you? You worked it out right away. You know that pleasing me, pleasing us, means you will live longer.
Longer. But not forever.
But then none of us lives forever, Laura. Hasn’t anyone ever taught you that time is an abstract concept? It defies all logic, flies in the face of reason. Time wears you down if you allow it to. You deserve better than that.
Your face was a picture when you saw my other guests. I tried hard to preserve them, but I am an amateur. An improving one, though. Perhaps you will be my first success.
You did well with the milk, too. I know it was tough when I forced you to drink that mug of spoilt milk. But finally, you kept it all down. It took a while, a little patience on my behalf, and enormous strength of character on yours. But in the end, we got there. I was proud of you. I loved you for it.
And I so love to watch you sleep. Admittedly, you haven’t slept for long periods of time, but you are even more beautiful wrapped in the loving arms of Morpheus. Your eyelids jerk as if alive, attuned to the mysteries of your dreams.
Am I a part of them? I do hope so.
You are perfect for what we have in mind. We both want to use you – your body – in so many different ways. And we intend to. But if we had you now you would not do as we ask, and once again the object of your presence here will be defeated.
You believe that while you do everything we ask, the very worst nightmares your imagination is capable of conjuring will not come true. You are wrong, of course. Soon one of us, perhaps even both of us, will tire of what your life means to us, and we will move you on towards your destiny. There will be no hiding place for you then. And you will remain with us for all time, never wanting, never needing.
Ah. Yes, I have just remembered. You were sneaky, weren’t you? So very sneaky. I thought I had killed both your parents, I even told you as much. But you neglected to inform me that the man I killed was not your father. Just a man who fucked your mother. Tut-tut, Laura. You will pay for that audacity. But that will come later, of course.
The media coverage focused on your father’s time as a policeman. A very good policeman, by all accounts. I saw his photograph. I spoke to him as well, and we have developed something of a rapport. The media have swamped the public with photographs. You resembled your mother more, my dear. But there is something about Daddy. Something behind his eyes. I would like to know your father better, Laura. I would like to know him very much.
I wonder how he feels having spoken to me. Can you imagine his pain, Laura? Can you imagine its colour? So bright, so dazzling, so intense. The pain of a thousand cuts would pale into insignificance by comparison. I can cause him to die a hundred deaths, with mere words as my only weapons. Now that is power.
I must admit that I had never considered this avenue before. There may be enormous pleasure to be gained here. How amusing. Perhaps he will be useful to me in more ways than I can comprehend right now.
Ooh, such a big yawn. You have no idea what time of day it is, do you? Nor even how long you have already been here. Shuttered windows. Lights on all the time. It’s not easy to sleep with the lights on, is it, my dear? But believe me, it’s preferable to the dark. The dark is a hiding place for things we don’t want to think of or even imagine.
Go on. Lay your head down. Rest. Sleep. I have things to do now. Places to go. People to see. Someone to speak to. Busy, busy, bee. Busy, busy me.
Do you have a message for your father, Laura? Would you like me to tell him that you love him? Or shall I just tell him that you’re going to die and there’s nothing he or anyone else can do to prevent it? Shall I tell him that I will kill you slowly? After I have made a woman of you, of course. And shall I let him know how much pain you will endure before I give you over to your maker? If he loves you, little one, he will crumble to pieces and I will wipe my hands of him.
I love you, too, dear Laura. In my own fashion. I can be good and kind, but I know I can also be cruel. I don’t mean to be. It’s just … It’s just the way things are. The way things have to be.
Goodbye for now, Laura.
My new love.
She waited for him in their room, wearing a flimsy nightgown and nothing else. Her untethered breasts were small, but firm, standing proud against the sheer material. Lank and dirty hair curled around her neck like the tails of a vermin b
rood. She slouched in a narrow armchair, one leg hooked over a threadbare arm, exposing herself to him. She smiled as he entered the room.
‘How is our little beauty today?’ she asked.
‘As well as can be expected.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You weren’t thinking of … visiting her, were you?’
She stretched languidly, the smile still in place. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because I don’t think it would be a good idea. Not yet. I know you want her. So do I. And I want you to have her. But not until she’s of no use to us. Then … well, then her body is yours, my dear.’
Disappointed, the woman got to her feet and prepared to get ready. As her nightdress fell to the floor, the man felt something powerful flow through him. A surge of raw energy. She turned to him, her naked body teasing. ‘We still have each other,’ she said.
He adjusted his trousers. ‘Later. I have things to do. Business to take care of.’
She blew him a kiss, while the other hand stroked herself. ‘I’ll be waiting. All wet and warm for you.’
‘I need you to shave me.’
‘I’ll do that as well.’
He laughed, kissed her fully on the mouth, pressed his groin against hers, then broke away. Her eyes were bright, pupils enlarged.
‘I love you,’ he said. And then he was gone.
He had chosen each location long ago, realising that sooner or later he would have to dispose of the bodies. The first, Jeanette Morris, had been a real whiner. Cry, cry, cry. That’s all she would do. She hadn’t been much use to him, other than being his first attempt at playing God. As expected, she hadn’t turned out that well. Still. He had time. And practice makes perfect, so they say. His first victim, his first failure. He was improving all the time, however, but there were others who needed to be discarded. He was happy to do them one by one. No rush. They weren’t going anywhere. And neither was he.
He recalled that first time very well. The body was sheathed in plastic, which in turn was wrapped in a heavy cotton dust sheet. He pulled it from the van, heaved it onto his shoulder and headed toward the site he had chosen. Using one hand to keep the body balanced, his other gripped a hand-made wooden toolbox. He managed both easily.
Once in position he unrolled the body and laid it out on the solid floor. Then he took a number of items from the tool box and spread them around the small figure. The last item he withdrew was a portable CD player.
Before death was merciful, he had subjected this child to a number of tortuous ordeals, recording the entire proceedings. Now he snapped the CD player on and it began to play the first track. He whistled as he went back to work on her. The screams and pitiful moans of pain and misery emerging from the device drowned out the sound, but it didn’t matter in the least. He never had been able to carry a tune.
27
Inside the annexe, all three men started when the telephone rang. Across the other side of the unit, the PCs turned to face them, and the room fell into complete silence. It was the same phone line that their quarry had used before, its distinctive tone sounding like a death knell. Frank walked slowly back to the desk, sat down, drew a deep breath and picked up the receiver.
‘Is that you by any chance, Special Detective Rogers?’ he heard. His eyes moved across to the two detectives. He gave a nod and flicked a switch that would start the recorder and put the conversation through the speakers.
‘Yes, it’s me, Oscar.’
‘Ah … you remembered. How kind. Congratulations, by the way. Officially on the team now. I heard about it this morning. You’ve become something of a celebrity, even though you continue to ignore the media’s questions. Good for you, Frank. We all deserve our fifteen minutes of fame.’
‘Is my daughter still alive, Oscar?’
‘What do you think, special detective? I mean, using all your powers of detective reasoning, what do you really think?’
‘I’m asking you to tell me.’ He glanced across at Nicky, who nodded grimly. His heart screamed out, imploring him not to go ahead with what he was about to do. But his head told him he must. For his own peace of mind. ‘And if you tell me she is, then I want some proof.’
‘My dear Frank, do you really think you are in any position to dictate terms?’
‘You seem to have a need to talk to me, Oscar. If my daughter is dead, then I have no need or desire to talk to you. Prove to me that she is alive and well, and we’ll talk all you like.’
‘And what if I kill her now as punishment for your impudence?’ The voice hardened just a little.
Frank closed his eyes. His heart rose to impede his breathing, hammering like a woodpecker at a branch. ‘Then don’t bother calling again,’ he said with as much force as he could muster.
‘I might not care, Frank. Perhaps you’ve misjudged the situation, or have been badly advised. If I react in a negative way, you will have killed her, Special Detective Rogers. You will have killed your own daughter. Yet … does not each man kill the thing he loves?’
‘No. You will have killed her, not me nor anyone else. Just you. Now either do as I say or this conversation is over.’
After a brief pause, the voice came back slightly lower in tone. ‘I can’t do that at the moment. Laura is not with me. However, perhaps we can strike a deal. The next time I call, I will provide you with the proof you want. Give me a question for her, something only she will have the answer to.’
‘Okay. Give me some time to think.’ He cupped the mouthpiece, his relief obvious in the huge sigh he let go.
‘Well done,’ Nicky said. ‘It’s what you needed.’
Frank nodded. A question. Could he phrase it in such a way that Laura might be able to give him a clue as to her whereabouts? He couldn’t think. His thoughts were lost in darkness. Nothing would come to him. Pain tightened a narrow band across his eyes. He had to use this opportunity. It was all they had. He took his hand away and said, ‘All right, Oscar. Ask Laura to tell me where her favourite place is.’
‘That’s it?’
‘It’ll be enough.’
‘Very well. I’ll ask. Now do we talk?’
‘You’ve offered no proof … but, I suppose I can trust you this once.’
‘Oh, that is so kind of you. So now tell me, how does it feel to be a special detective?’
‘It’s fine by me. Whatever it takes.’
‘Good. Better than collecting debts, I suspect. Perhaps I’ve done you a favour, bringing you back to something so obviously dear to your heart. And how did you like my little gift?’
‘Gift?’ Frank frowned now, shrugging at Capel and Nicky who sat enthralled. Inside the unit, the atmosphere crackled with tension as several other officers wandered in and immediately became absorbed by the conversation.
‘Yes. Little Jeanette. I had thought of wrapping her in pink ribbon for you, but I dismissed the notion as too much of a grand gesture. Ultimately, I think the decor said it all. Hadn’t you worked it out that she was my gift to you?’
‘I failed to see her that way. What you left behind was no gift, believe me. Why did you do it, Oscar?’
The words almost caught in Frank’s throat. The image of the child’s poor body rose up before him, strong and stark. ‘Why did you torture her like that? And why deprive her of any dignity in death by using the tools on her after she was cold? What purpose could that have possibly served?’
A low, throaty chuckle echoed down the line. ‘Creative of me, wasn’t it? One has to have some amusement, Frank.’
‘But she was already dead.’
‘Ah … something was dead in each of us, Special Detective Rogers. And what was dead was hope.’
‘You’re talking in riddles again, Oscar. Don’t you want to explain? Don’t you want to remind me of what a genius you are?’
‘I made a mistake, all right!’ His voice rose considerably this time. ‘She angered me. She annoyed the shit out of me and she wasn’t right. Now forget her. Let’s move on. Don’t you want to know whether I have a
nother gift for you?’
Frank caught his breath. Fear lodged in his throat once more. Was this the animal’s final twist in this bizarre game? He hadn’t yet offered proof that Laura was alive. Was he now going to offer irrefutable evidence of her death?
‘Yes,’ he whispered finally.
‘Of course you do. And this time I’ll even save you some bother, make life a little easier for you. My gift for you this time is Geraldine McGiven.’
Frank heard Nicky mutter: ‘The second abductee.’
‘I suppose she’s already dead.’
‘That’s for me to know, and you to find out.’
‘You wouldn’t be giving her to me if she were alive.’ Frank ran the list through his mind of what they thought they knew about this beast. He recalled the religion angle. Pro or anti? ‘Oscar,’ he said quietly. ‘Don’t you know it’s a sin to do what you’re doing to these people?’
‘A sin? A sin, Frank? There is no sin, except stupidity.’
‘And you’re not stupid, are you, Oscar?’ You’re not religious, either. Anti, then. Which probably means your parents were devout followers of some religion or religious group.
‘No, I’m not. I’m glad you understand that, at least. Now, why don’t you stop trying to enter my mind, Special Detective Rogers? The passages and corridors are much too dark for you there. It’s time we spoke about Geraldine. Time may be running out for her.’
Degrees of Darkness Page 15