Mortal Crimes 1

by Various Authors

  SOLE INTENTION:

  INTENTION SERIES BOOK #1

  M. A. COMLEY

  Copyright © 2013 M. A. Comley

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author.

  PROLOGUE

  Sweat poured from her brow. Her clothes clung to her as she ran for her life through the ink-black forest. She’d already bumped into several tree trunks while looking over her shoulder for him.

  Why me? Why is he so desperate to kill me?

  She tripped over a half-hidden log and landed in a pile of autumn leaves, but she was up running again within a few seconds. Her life depended on it.

  Stop thinking and just run!

  She could hear him tracking her—the sound of crunching undergrowth getting ever nearer. She had no place to hide. Is that why he brought me here? Of course. The question was: would she ever leave this place alive?

  Another stray branch slashed her cheek, distracting her. As she tumbled over a large fallen tree trunk, her heart almost shuddered to a stop. She tried to get up and continue running but winced as a sharp pain shot up her leg. She looked down at her ankle. It hung at an odd angle. “Fuck! Damn and fuck.”

  The noise of leaves rustling behind her made her turn her head sharply. She didn’t see the flat head of the shovel until it was inches from her face.

  “Run from me would you, bitch?”

  Stars danced through her terrified brain. She tumbled back into the damp undergrowth, but her attacker quickly yanked her upright again and slammed her back against a wide tree. Everything was a daze, except the way he was glaring at her. She felt the rope slither around her torso, then groaned when it tightened, pushing the air out of her burning lungs. “Please don’t hurt me,” she whispered, fear tearing at her vocal chords.

  “You shouldn’t have run. Now I have no choice.”

  “Yes, you do. Everyone has choices.” She tried to reason her way to survival. Right then she would have done just about anything to save her life. “Please, I have money, savings in the bank. Take it. Have it all… but please don’t hurt me.” Saltiness from her tears slipped into the corner of her mouth.

  “I don’t want your money. I wanted you.”

  “Then have me. We’ll go away together. You scared me. That’s why I ran. Please, give me another chance. I won’t mess up again. I swear.” Her words forced confusion to travel across his face.

  Is he debating setting me free? “We’ll be good together, once I get to know you properly. It takes me a little while to get used to people. Please give me that chance.”

  The confusion gave way to anger. His eyes creased up until they formed tiny slits in his tanned face, and his lip curled with intent. “If I set you free now, you’ll only run to the police and give me away.”

  “I won’t. I promise. Give me a chance. Give us a chance,” she implored, desperation lacing her words.

  “You had your chance. Nobody makes a fool out of me. Many women have tried before, seen me as some kind of joke, to their cost. I thought you were different, but when it comes down to it, you’re all the same. Full of your own self-importance. Preening yourself to attract us men. Then, when you’ve snared us, you cast us away like a used tampon.”

  She had never thought of herself in that way and really wanted to challenge him. However, she was conscious that would only make matters worse. She turned her head to the side and mumbled an apology.

  His hand shot out and clasped her throat. “What did you say?”

  He had cut off her airway, so she couldn’t speak even if she wanted to. She could feel the air disappearing and felt lightheaded as his grip tightened. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her family’s faces filled her oxygen-starved mind. Bye, Mum, Dad, and Cheryl. I’ll never be able to share good news with you all again. Please don’t grieve much for me. Go on with your lives. Never let the bitterness of what he’s about to do to me destroy your lives like he’s destroying mine. I love you all… until the end.

  He let go of her throat, and she gulped air as if it were an endangered commodity.

  He held her hand in his, touched it affectionately to his cheek, then looked her in the eye as he crushed her fingers between his. She’d never felt so much pain in her life, and she screamed until her voice dried up.

  “Scream all you want, bitch. No one will hear your desperate cries out here.”

  She sobbed and whispered through dry lips, “Get it over with. Kill me.”

  “Oh, I will. Not yet, I intend to make you suffer first. This is just the beginning of what I have in store for you, bitch.”

  He stood up and towered over her. Her gaze remained focused on the tree stump opposite. She could make out, formed in its bark, her mother’s beautiful smiling face, giving her the courage to be brave. When she looked around, she realised that he’d vanished, leaving her alone and vulnerable to the four-legged creatures of the forest. The sobs came and increased in tempo as she came to the conclusion that even though he hadn’t killed her, it wouldn’t be long before she died a horrible death out there. Alone.

  Lost deep in thought, she neglected to hear his return. She jumped when he taunted her with his vile words.

  “Say your prayers, bitch.” Something glinted in his hand, and her eyes opened wide before the object sank deep into her flesh. “Your life is about to end.”

  She tried to scream, but her voice box proved to be raw and uncooperative. The third time he struck her, she drifted into a welcome unconsciousness. The blackness surrounding her quickly gave way to the brightest light she’d ever witnessed. She moved towards it and breathed a sigh of relief. I’ve arrived… He can no longer hurt me.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Crap! Never again.”

  Ellen Brazil eased her way out of the double bed she had found herself in and glanced down at the stranger she’d obviously spent the night with. Her head felt as though it belonged to someone else. Why had she gone to that damn party? Why had she touched that bowl of punch? Ellen had neither the stomach nor the head to be a heavy drinker. She’d once been tipsy after a schooner of sherry at her aunt’s wedding, during her teens. She glanced at the mirror in the bedroom. Her pale, messy reflection stared back at her, instantly reminding her why she usually left the dreaded drink alone.

  She gingerly stooped down to gather her clothes, then went in search of the bathroom. After throwing cold water over her mascara-stained face, she dressed and tiptoed along the hallway in search of the front door. She had no idea where she was going and somehow ended up back in the bedroom. She eyed the stranger with curiosity for a second or two, wondering if they had done the deed the previous evening. He was lying face down, and from what she could tell, he had a fit body, one that most women would be happy waking up next to in the morning. Unexpectedly, one of his eyes opened.

  “Morning.” He sat up and stretched, showing off his waxed chest and pronounced ribs and giving her a glimpse that he was naked beneath the quilt.

  “Er… morning. Sorry, didn’t… mean to wake you,” she stuttered, gazing into his chestnut eyes.

  He patted the bed beside him. “Join me for an encore.”

  Crap! So I did do the dirty with him.

  Her cheeks flared, and she shook her head. “Sorry. Which way do I go to get out of here?” She glanced down at her watch and twisted her mouth. “I’m running late for work.”

  He winked at her. “Of course you are. I’ll tell you the way if you promise to give me your number. Last night was fun. I’d like to repeat it someday.”

  Crap and double crap! She opened her handbag and pulled out a business card. Not the way a normal person ended a date, she knew, but it would have to suffice for now. All she wanted to do was get out of there, sharpish.

  He took the card from her grasp and read it with interest. “Missing Persons Hotline. Intriguing. When can I see you again?”

  “I really have to fly. I have an important meeting wi
th a client at nine. Ring me in a few days, and we’ll arrange something, okay?”

  She wasn’t prepared for what he did next, and her mouth flew open. He leapt out of bed, naked, and pulled on a towelling robe that was hooked over the open wardrobe door. He turned to look at her and teased, “I’ve never had that kind of reaction from a girl before.”

  She clamped her mouth shut. “I’m sorry. I really need to go.”

  “This way.” He led her out into the hallway and towards the front door. He held it open and leaned forward, expecting a kiss.

  She pecked him on the cheek and rushed out onto a concrete landing.

  She looked back, and he was laughing. “Are you sure you’ll be all right getting home? I could drive you.”

  “No thanks. I’ll get a taxi.” She rushed down the graffiti-strewn stairwell and out into the estate car park. She wouldn’t usually have been seen dead in an estate so rundown. Shit! How the hell did that happen? Despite the pain in her head, she jogged to the nearest corner, in search of a passing taxi. Almost five minutes passed before she reached a main road, where she managed to locate one. She gave the driver the address to her office unit and sat back. Ellen found herself trying to remember what had happened the previous evening, but she still came up blank. The cab pulled up outside the small unit. She paid the driver and dug into her bag for the keys to the office. She opened the door and closed it behind her.

  “Wow! Look what the cat dragged in. ‘Dragged in’ being the operative word.”

  “Shut up! Don’t even ask. I’m going to grab a shower and get changed. Be a love and make me a coffee, will you?” Ellen asked her amused partner, Brian. She swept between their two desks and out into the small bathroom at the rear.

  Around five minutes later, after braving an extremely tepid shower, she emerged and dried her long red hair with the dryer.

  Brian was sitting at his desk, with his arms folded, waiting for her to fill him in.

  How can I do that when I don’t have a clue what went on last night? “Don’t ask,” she repeated.

  His laughter filled the tiny office and reverberated around her aching head. She opened her desk drawer and pulled out a packet of pain-relief tablets. Knocking two back with her lukewarm coffee, she made a face as the tablets stuck in her throat. She really wasn’t one for popping pills willy-nilly.

  “What’s on the agenda for today then, Brian?”

  “I thought I might tweak the website. It doesn’t seem to be getting that much traffic.”

  “Good idea. I’ll finish updating the paperwork on the recently completed cases.”

  Brian was a computer wizard who handled the administrative side of the business, while Ellen handled the enquiries and investigative side of things. They made a good team. They had met while on the Midlands police force. Both of them had quickly become disillusioned in their roles, frustrated by the direction the force was heading. So they decided to put their heads together and come up with a business that they thought would be in great demand because so many people went missing nowadays, for one reason or another. Ellen wanted to help reunite people with their loved ones or, in some cases, offer closure so that suffering families could get on with their own lives. Hence, the Worcester Missing Persons Hotline was formed.

  The national bureau’s website consisted of thousands of images of individuals, young and old, who were listed as missing. But the National Missing Persons Bureau was usually inundated with cases, which meant it was limited in what it could do. There was the matter of funding, too. Brian and Ellen’s missing persons hotline firm differed in that people were prepared to pay for their professional service. Ellen and Brian occasionally hooked up with members of the national team and shared information. In the two years since WMPH had formed, they had built up an excellent reputation.

  Thankfully, Ellen’s headache wore off halfway through the morning, which was a good job because Brian started cheering that he’d had a eureka moment around about the same time.

  “I’ve cracked it,” he said, spinning round and round in his chair.

  “Stop that. You’re making me bloody dizzy. What have you cracked?”

  Ellen left her desk and walked two steps to stand beside his. He pointed at the computer screen. She wasn’t that interested in computers and had no idea how they translated data. He started bombarding her with details of codes he had entered and lost her as soon as he began. She raised a hand to stop him. “Forget all that crap. Just tell me the end product.”

  “You’re such a dinosaur when it comes down to it, aren’t you?”

  She shrugged and gave him an embarrassed smile. “What can I say? You’ve got your interests, and I’ve got mine.”

  “Yeah, by the looks of things, yours is partying till all hours and coming to work hungover.”

  She clipped him on the head. “Enough Ellen bashing. What have you done? In basic English, if you would?”

  “All right. I’ve tweaked the website, made it more user-friendly and accessible to the general public.”

  “Is that it?” she said disappointedly. “All that excitement for that?”

  The phone on her desk started ringing. Ellen answered it and tried not to smirk at her partner as his jaw dropped open.

  “Worcester Missing Persons Hotline. How can I help?”

  “Er… I need help.”

  “That’s what we’re here for, sir, to help. Can I have your name?”

  “Sorry. It’s Will… William Endersbe.”

  “Okay, Will. How can we help you today?”

  The man breathed in heavily and then let it out before he answered. “My wife’s gone missing.”

  “Ah, I see. Any possible reason why?”

  “Not that I know of, no. I went away for a week, and when I came back, she’d gone.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Did she pack her suitcases and leave?” Ellen heard the phone clatter on the table, then silence. She remained on the line, thinking that the man must have gone to his wife’s wardrobe to check. In her experience, not everyone thought of doing that right away.

  A few minutes later, out of breath, the man lifted the phone again. “No. All her clothes and the suitcase, the spare one, because I had the large one with me on my trip, are still there. Please help me.”

  “We will, sir. Would it be better if we spoke in person? You could come to the office, or I could come out to see you, perhaps?”

  “Would you? I’m afraid to leave the phone in case she calls.”

  “I can understand that. Whereabouts are you?”

  “Out in St. Johns. Do you know it at all?”

  “Yep, I have family over there. It’ll take me twenty minutes or so to get there.”

  “Number five Woolnough Road. That’s brilliant, I’ll see you then.”

  As Ellen hung up, Brian asked, “What’s your gut instinct on this one?”

  She thought over his question for a second or two before rising to her feet. “I’m not sure. He seems genuine enough. I’ll give you a better answer once I’ve met him in person. Hold the fort.”

  “Don’t I always? Have you got some form of self-defence tucked away in your handbag? You know I don’t like you meeting punters in their own home.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a trick or two tucked away. If I was that unsettled about him, I wouldn’t have suggested going over there. You worry too much.”

  “It’s my job to worry about you,” he retorted, turning down the edges of his mouth and giving her his puppy-dog eyes.

  “No, it’s your job to get that website up and running more efficiently before I start cracking the whip.” She picked up her handbag and jacket off the back of her chair and then headed for the door.

  He snorted and muttered, “Wishful thinking!” He blushed when she turned back and blew him a kiss.

  “See you later. If I’m not back in an hour, you know what to do.”

  “Will do. Stay safe.”

  They had created a code of practice that if she went
out on a visit and didn’t contact base within an hour, Brian would alert the police. Theirs was a relatively risky business, after all, and the likelihood of creeps getting in touch with them was pretty high. That was the kind of world they were living in.

  ________

  Ellen pulled her MR5 sports car into the drive of the prospective client’s house—a modest semi-attached on a small estate. She walked past the evergreen box hedging and knocked on the glass front door.

  A man in his mid-twenties, with muscles the size of cannonballs, smiled and motioned for her to step inside without the need for introductions.

  Walking into the lounge, Ellen was stunned by the number of trophies on display in a glass cabinet in an alcove next to the chimney.

  Matter-of-factly, the man explained, “I’m a bodybuilder. I’ve just come back from a competition in the States. I got third place, but it means nothing when I can’t share my success with Donna.”

  Ellen pointed at the sofa. “May I?”

  “Sorry. Sure.”

  He sat in the oversized armchair opposite her. Well, to anyone else, it would have been oversized, but once he was sitting in it, the chair looked as though it would be more at home in a doll’s house.

  Ellen took out a spiral-bound notepad and a pen. She flipped open the pad and started asking questions, gentle ones at first, to help put her client at ease. “How long has it been since you last saw your wife?”

  “Ten days ago. Like I told you on the phone, I just got back from America.”

  “When did you last speak to her, over the phone, I mean?”

  “Before I left for the airport on Friday. She was getting ready to go out with her sister.”

  “I see. I’ll need her sister’s name and address.”

  He rose and crossed the room, then returned with a small address book. Flicking through the pages, he located the address he was looking for and then handed her the open book.

  Ellen jotted down the name, address, and phone number. “Maybe I can call in and see Cheryl on my way back to the office?”