Three (Detective Alec Ramsay Series Book 7)

by Conrad Jones

  Again.

  The not knowing was excruciating. She was verging on becoming hysterical. Antonia Barrat was not a weak woman. Life had hardened her. In the workplace she was as sharp as a blade. Where some struggled under the pressure of deadlines, Toni flourished. Life’s trivial issues bounced off her as if she was titanium but beneath the bulletproof exterior was a frightened little girl. She couldn’t lose anyone else. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she could hardly suck any air into her lungs. Kayla was in mortal danger and there was nothing that she could do about it. Helplessness and hopelessness, her old companions returned.

  Again.

  Kayla could die. The detective had told her as much but he wouldn’t expand. How dare he decide that she couldn’t be made aware of the situation? How dare he? If there was a chance that she could lose her then she had every right to know. She couldn’t lose Kayla, not after everything that she had endured. Her heart had been broken so many times that she wouldn’t survive another loss. Not this time around and not Kayla. Surely the world couldn’t be that cruel; surely not.

  Her legs pumped furiously, driving her up the stairs. As she neared the top of the stairs, she heard a woman screaming, ‘No! No! No!’ over and over. The voice was muffled as if submerged under water but it was also strangely familiar. She felt a draft on her damp skin. A breeze that could only have come from outside but it didn’t register in her brain as unusual. Nor did she question its source. She kept running towards her bedroom desperately trying to force oxygen into her bloodstream. The woman’s screams were deafening and reaching a piercing level. The word ‘no’ had become a long and drawn out wail of pain and agony. She tripped over her own feet and fell heavily onto her front. She jarred her arms and cracked her chin against the floor, clacking her teeth together hard. The screaming stopped abruptly and she suddenly realised that it had been her own anguished cries that she had heard. She remained still and tried to get a grip on her emotions. That frightened girl was a woman now. She couldn’t allow her emotions to regress; she had to regain control of herself despite feeling that she might implode.

  Detective Maxwell followed Antonia up the stairs. Her reaction to hearing that her partner was in trouble was to be expected, if not a little dramatic. His job was to get her to Canning Place in one piece and he intended to do that. She had flown up the stairs like a banshee and he was a few steps behind her when she fell. She fell hard. The crack to her chin had thrown her head backwards painfully. She lay still for a few seconds. That worried Maxwell but at least she had stopped screaming. He knelt next to her and felt for the pulse in her neck. It was strong. She murmured and groaned and turned onto her back rubbing at her jaw with her hands.

  “Ow,” she moaned. Her eyes opened and cleared slowly. They were red and watery. “What did I do?”

  “You tripped.” Maxwell pulled her to her feet and let her steady herself. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so,” she said a little embarrassed.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “You need to get dressed and throw a few essentials into a bag, toothbrush, deodorant and a change of clothes will do for now. We can come back at a later date for you and pick up anything that you need.”

  “Kayla?” Antonia fought back a sob. “What has happened to her?”

  “The sergeant will let us know how she is as soon as he knows anything solid, okay?” Maxwell squeezed her elbow. “He didn’t tell you anything because he doesn’t want to speculate until he’s certain. You understand that?” Antonia nodded. “Get yourself packed and dressed and we’ll take you to wherever she is.”

  “Promise?”

  “Once we know for sure where she is, yes,” Maxwell nodded. He didn’t know why he had made that promise. Maybe he couldn’t stand to see a woman so upset. His wife always told him that he was too soft to be a detective. She said that one day he would listen to a criminal’s sob stories and let them go with just a telling off. She wasn’t far off the mark hence he was still a DC after five years. “Hurry up. We need to get a move on.” Antonia headed for her bedroom without a sound. She felt sickened inside. Her angst was gut wrenching. She was frightened and she could feel her stomach starting to cramp.

  Above their heads, in the loft, Letva listened to their exchange and cursed under his breath. They were taking her into protective custody. He lifted the hatch a fraction and peered through the gap. The black detective was wide at the shoulders and just as wide at the hip. He looked soft around the middle but he was young and he was heavy and he wouldn’t go down without a struggle. Letva didn’t know where his partner was but he knew that he would have one and that he wouldn’t be far away; two detectives inside and two uniformed officers outside. The odds were against him. He needed to talk to the Barrat woman, at length. He needed time alone with her to find out what they needed to know. His employer wanted everything done discreetly. Killing police officers would not go down well although hurting a few never caused a problem. He sighed and decided that trying to take her now would be foolish but he could send her the message. It would be a message that she wouldn’t forget. He reached for the rucksack and opened it. Emptying the contents, he proceeded with plan B.

  CHAPTER 19

  The safe door clicked open an inch. Stirling reached for it and gripped the edge with his fingertips. He pulled it wide open and looked inside with his breath stuck in his chest. The broken twisted body of Kayla Yates was indeed in the safe.

  “Paramedics!” Stirling bellowed. They were on standby in the shop area and were next to him in an instant. Kayla was crammed into the lower section of the safe. Her heels were beneath her buttocks, her feet splayed at an odd angle. A throaty gasp came from one of the paramedics. Stirling could not see her face. Her head had been forced between her knees and twisted away from them; her arms were behind her back, twisted and pointing in unnatural positions. She looked like a rag doll crammed into a toy box. The urge to drag her out was overwhelming but he knew that he could do more harm than good if he did. He had no idea if she was alive or not. His instinct told him that she was not. The cramped space, limited air and the obvious severe damage to her limbs indicated that she had suffered an agonisingly slow and painful death, finally suffocating.

  A paramedic tried to find a pulse but her body was at an awkward angle.

  “We need to slide her out and keep her in that position,” another paramedic said. “You take her head and her knees and I’ll take her feet and hips. Be careful with her neck.” His colleague looked pale but he agreed. They had both seen too many ruined bodies to be squeamish. “Sergeant, I need you to grab her belt and lift her when we’re ready.” Stirling nodded. They knelt and reached for Kayla, each grabbing their given part. Stirling gripped her leather belt and felt the warmth of her flesh beneath his knuckles. He was almost certain that he had felt her twitch. It could have been his imagination, maybe wishful thinking but he felt hope rushing through his veins. “On three, one, two, three!”

  They pulled and nothing happened. Kayla remained stuck for a second.

  “Again, harder this time. On three, one, two, three!”

  After another tug her body slid from the safe, limp and floppy at the joints. The paramedic felt for the pulse in her wrist. His face showed no reaction as he moved his fingers to her neck to try again. He nodded his head and gestured to the oxygen tank. “She’s alive.” He looked at Stirling. “Just. We need to get her in ASAP.” He turned to his colleagues. “Cut the zip ties from her wrists.” Stirling stood up and stepped back. The oxygen mask was put over her nose and mouth. Her eyes were swollen closed and a deep purple colour near the bridge of the nose. Her eyelids flickered and she sucked in a deep breath. It was the best thing that Stirling had heard all day. “Let’s get a line into her. I need fluids and a spinal board. We can’t lay her flat. It will cause her less pain if we move her as she is.” Her arms were twisted against the natural bend of the elbow, the joints dislocated and swollen. Stirling felt sic
k as he noticed the lumps at her shoulders which were also dislocated; the ball joints prised from their sockets. He couldn’t tell if they had broken her to put her into the safe or if it had been part of an interrogation. It didn’t matter for now. Tendons and ligaments would mend and bones could be set. The mental trauma may linger but her flesh would heal eventually. The surgeons could fix her; that was their job. His was to catch the bastards who had done this to her.

  CHAPTER 20

  Maxwell checked the spare bedrooms and the bathroom to make sure that they left the house secure. The windows were fitted with decent quality locks and she had a good alarm system. Once he had checked them, he was wandering from room to room passing the time until his charge was ready to leave. He looked at the roof of a large extension. One of the spare bedrooms gave him a good view of it. It was ideal for would-be burglars to use as access to the upper floor windows or to climb onto the roof. He glanced across the slates and noticed that skylights had been fitted to allow light into the attic. They were a weak point but the property had intruder alarm sensors fitted throughout the house. He made a mental note to ask Antonia if they were fitted in the loft too. If they weren’t, they needed to be. Max checked his watch. She was taking a long time in her bedroom and he was becoming irritated. They were protecting a vulnerable witness from what was potentially an international drug cartel. Organisations like that didn’t take any prisoners and he had nothing more lethal than a pen on his person. The longer they delayed, the more likely an incident would happen. He went to her bedroom and put his ear against the door.

  “Are you okay in there?”

  Silence.

  He knocked again, louder this time. “Antonia, are you okay?”

  Silence.

  “Antonia!”

  Silence. He twisted the handle but it was locked from the inside. Irritation was fast being replaced by fear. He was about to knock again when the door was snatched open.

  “I’m alright,” her voice made him jump. She looked nervous and poked her head around the door, hiding her body from view. He noticed that her lip was quivering. “Have you heard anything about Kayla yet?”

  “Not yet.” Max checked his mobile just in case; the screen was blank. He peered around the door. She was still dressed in her robe. “Are you planning on getting dressed any time soon because we really need to be going?”

  “I’m sorry,” she blushed. “My stomach. It always decides to play up when I become anxious.” She shrugged and tried a smile. “I will be downstairs as quick as I can. I promise. Waiting outside my bedroom is a little unnecessary and you’re making me more nervous if I’m honest, so please...” She gestured to the stairs with her head. “Wait down there.”

  Max frowned and shook his head. He looked at his wristwatch as if that would speed things up. “Leave the door unlocked,” he warned.

  “Oh really!” Toni sighed. She was more embarrassed than angered by the request. “Is that really necessary?”

  “If you pass out or have an accident, I need to get to you. I am here to protect you so please don’t make my job any more difficult than it already is.” He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows as if speaking to a naughty child. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and nodded. “Good. And be as fast as you can.” She nodded again and pushed the door too but not closed. “Once you’re packed, we need to go in a hurry,” he said to the door. He sighed and reluctantly turned towards the stairs. It wasn’t ideal but fear affected victims differently. If she was going to have a case of the squirts then he would rather it happened in her bathroom than on his backseat.

  Letva watched the black policeman amble down the stairs. He exchanged a few words with his partner in the hallway and then they stepped outside the front door. He had detected the scent of cigarettes earlier but it was not pervading from inside her house. It had been carried in by the detectives when the front door opened. The smell clung to their clothes and their skin. He could sense their concern. They were nervous and he could smell their fear. They were taking the opportunity to smoke while they waited for her to get dressed. He slid the hatch open and sat on the edge of the frame, dangling his legs over. Taking his weight with his hands, he lowered himself down silently. All the time he was ultra aware of the surroundings. Barrat had walked through her bedroom into her bathroom. He heard her footsteps and he heard the slight creaking sound as she sat on the toilet seat. He tiptoed to her door, pushed it open slightly and then moved to her bed where the thing that he was looking for had been left. Picking it up, he slipped back into the hallway as silent as a ghost. The second bedroom was to his left. He crept inside and placed it on the dressing table, leaving the message next to it. It took less than ten seconds. He moved back onto the landing. Pulling the door closed, he jumped for the hatch, grabbed the lip and pulled himself back into the attic in one fluid movement. He pushed the lid over the hatch but made sure that it was askew; not too obvious, just enough.

  Toni waited until the stomach cramps had eased. She was desperate to get to Kayla’s shop, desperate to see her, desperate to hear what had happened and desperate to hold her tightly in her arms. Nothing would stop her from getting to her, nothing except her nervous constitution. Times of severe stress led to her body emptying the contents of her intestinal tract in the space of minutes. The worst of it was gone. She opened the medicine cabinet and took two Imodium tablets. Needing to sit on the toilet every five minutes was the last thing that she could handle at the moment. She looked at her face in the mirror and decided to take another two just in case. Better to be safe than sorry.

  Once she knew that it was safe to move from the toilet, she padded into her bedroom, dropping the robe in a heap. She grabbed a pair of faded jeans from a drawer, stepped into her underwear and then slipped into the denim before pulling on a jumper. It took her seconds to tie up her hair into a ponytail and slip on a pair of black Uggs. She took a quick look in the mirror, horrified by the bags beneath her eyes, she dabbed some concealer beneath them and then grabbed for her handbag.

  It was gone. She frowned and swore beneath her breath. Had she left it in the bathroom? She jogged into the bathroom and checked. There was no sign of it. Had the detective taken it in a bid to hurry things up? If he had, she would bend his ear. That was for sure. It held her keys, her phone, her makeup and her purse. You do not interfere with such essential kit, policeman or not.

  “Detective,” Toni shouted. Her bedroom door was ajar. “Have you moved my handbag?”

  There was no reply. She walked briskly to the top of the stairs. The two detectives were stood outside just beyond the front door. She could see them from the knees down. “Detective Maxwell,” she called.

  “Yes,” he answered walking towards the house. He pushed the door as he stepped inside. “Are you ready yet?”

  “Have you moved my handbag?”

  “No,” Max said flatly. “Why would I move your bag?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Well someone has.” Toni put her hands on her hips. She was red with embarrassment and anger. All she wanted to do was go to Kayla. “They must have. It was on the bed.”

  “Is your mobile in the bag?” Maxwell frowned. He had his ‘I’m talking to a child’ face on again.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’ll ring it and we’ll see where your bag is,” he said patiently. He scrolled through his numbers until he found hers. He pressed dial and they listened. Her mobile began to ring. “It’s up there somewhere.”

  Toni could hear her ringtone but it was muffled. She frowned and listened intently. It sounded like it was coming from the spare bedroom. She couldn’t remember going in there never mind taking her bag. She sighed angrily and opened the door. Sure enough, there was her bag on the dressing table. It was odd. She hardly ever went in there. At first glance, the room was still and looked normal. Toni walked towards her bag and the ringing became louder. She was confused as to how it had come to be there and there was s
omething else out of place, something that didn’t belong there. Her brain didn’t register what it was because it was a random shape; random and yet somehow familiar. She squinted as she tried to make sense of what she was looking at.

  “Have you found it?”

  Toni heard him but she didn’t answer his question. She stopped in her tracks and stared at the dressing table. Her handbag had been placed in the middle; its reflection caught her eye in the wide mirror behind it. She couldn’t compute what was she was looking at. It was next to her bag but it didn’t belong there in her bedroom, in her house; in fact it didn’t belong anywhere this side of nightmares.

  “Antonia!” Max called. Curiosity filled his voice. “Have you found your bag?”

  She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. The object was roughly triangular but the edges were softer, sort of blurred. Focusing on it was difficult as it was transparent and so were the contents. She could see through it and see its reflection behind it and so it bamboozled her brain. Suddenly it began to make sense. It was a clear polythene bag filled with a clear liquid; maybe water. The bag was tied at the top making it narrower and giving it a triangular shape. It was vaguely familiar as it reminded her of fairgrounds when she was a child, where you could win a goldfish in a bag of water. She always felt sorry for the fish, confined to such a small space. This bag was similar except she couldn’t see a goldfish. Something was floating in the liquid; two orb shaped objects. Toni focused on the nearest. The back of the orb was ragged, pink tendrils floated behind it.

  “Antonia?” Max shouted louder, concern now in his tone. She could hear him on the stairs. As his concern grew, he reverted to a more formal address. “Will you answer me please, Miss Barrat!”

  As she watched transfixed, the orbs rotated slowly to reveal blue circles with black centres; an iris and a pupil on each. Toni realised that she was staring into the dead eyes of Mike James. Lots of people have blue eyes and yet she instinctively knew that they belonged to Mike. She put her hand to her mouth and stepped backwards away from the dressing table. There was an oblong piece of paper pinned to her handbag. The words on the note were scrawled in red lipstick; simple and direct but effective none the less.