Time to Play (North East Police)

by K. A. Richardson

  ‘You disgust me. If you’d had a bigger set of balls we’d all be OK. See you tomorrow, stud.’

  The slam of the door reverberated and Danny sagged in his chains.

  Jesus Christ, they’re sick. All of them. Why the fuck didn’t I walk away. We could have gone to Scotland, or Ireland. Anywhere that was far away from here. I don’t deserve this.

  But the niggling voice in his head disagreed. He could have gone to the police at any point along the way and reported what was happening. Gaz was right, he had no balls. Desolation and despair swamped him as he let the chains take his weight.

  I deserve to die. That girl doesn’t. Even if they give me the chance, I can’t tell them. They’ll find her and kill her. She’s a kid. Maybe if someone had helped me when I was her age, I wouldn’t be here, trussed up like the Christmas fucking turkey.

  Stars still swam around his vision, and he realised his jaw crunched when he moved causing yet another cascade of pain. This time, he didn’t try to fight though; he had nothing left to fight with. Closing his eyes, he sank into the welcomed darkness that beckoned him.

  6th November, 2115 hours - Dive Team HQ, South Shields

  Elvie slowly stood from her hiding place under the stairwell. She'd somehow managed to fall asleep and had slept for almost twenty hours, her body taking some much needed time to repair. But now it reminded her that she was hungry, thirsty and needed to find the toilets again. She had ventured out the night before but was terrified she would get caught so had urinated, had a drink from the bathroom sink then hidden again.

  She cocked her head to one side, straining to listen.

  The building remained silent.

  She cautiously made her way up the stairs and through the door at the top. It led straight into some kind of seating area. There were tables and chairs and a fridge hummed away to itself in the corner. The need to pee was stronger than the need to forage though, and she made her way round the room and through the door at the end.

  After finding the toilet, she made her way back to the room with the tables. It had smelt like stale food, remnants of last microwave meals and grease loitering in the air. She crept to the fridge and pulled the door. It squeaked as it opened and she froze, listening for anything that would indicate someone else was there to hear.

  But she heard nothing.

  Opening the fridge door further, the scent of deep fried chicken entered her nose, and her mouth instantly salivated. She didn't even care what it was, it smelled like heaven. Reaching her hand into the round red and white box, she pulled out a piece of chicken and sank her teeth into it with a groan. It was a little greasy, but it was good, and exactly what she needed. She took the box out of the fridge, along with a can of cola and a handful of items from the top shelf which housed all manner of chocolate bars, sweets and drinks cans, and she took her haul back down to her hidey hole at the bottom of the stairs.

  It was quite a large area, and held tarps, old dive tanks, and various other bits and bobs. It had hidden her well when she slept, and she felt safe there.

  Pulling a tarp round her shoulder to take the chill off, she sat and methodically ate her way through several pieces of chicken, only stopping when her stomach was so full that she felt sick. She popped open the can, and took a slurp, giggling slightly as she burped loudly.

  The tarp was her safety blanket. The spot under the stairs was warm and there was no one there who could hurt her. It wasn't long before she had dropped off again into a deep sleep.

  7th November, 0210 hours - Unit 12b, Sunderland Enterprise Park

  Danny suddenly jerked awake, completely unaware of his surroundings. Then the pain from his jaw filtered back into his mind, he felt the chains digging into his arms and fear coursed through him again as he remembered where he was.

  Fuck, I'm in the unit.

  His arms and legs felt numb, he had no idea what time it was but it was still dark outside, at least all he could see was black at the rear of the unit where the back door was ajar.

  His senses kicked into overdrive as he heard scurrying sounds around his feet, and he about wet himself as he realised they were rats. He hated rats. Always had. And now they were right around him.

  Grunting he kicked outwards, feeling his toe connect with a small body that let out a squeak. He shuddered so violently that the chains rattled loudly, breaking the silence in the room.

  He tried praying: Please God, let me live. I swear I'll be better, I'll get out of this business and focus on raising my daughter.

  But there was no great bolt of lightning freeing him from the restraints, no rumble of thunder as some magical being leapt down to earth to help him. There was nothing except the sound of tiny claws on a concrete floor as the rats came closer to him.

  Really he supposed he'd been lucky, he felt like he'd been there for days but the rats hadn't attacked him. Maybe they would just leave him alone. He felt a surge of adrenaline; no way would he just let it all happen. He jerked from side to side, trying to loosen the chains and get free, but they held fast. There was no way he was getting out of there without help.

  He felt his head drop to his chest in defeat, and realised that he was freezing cold. It had been a chilly November so far as it was: the temperature dipping below freezing point every night so far. And tonight was no different. It was already past the point where he would shiver. He knew if he could see his fingers they would be blue.

  Danny remembered reading somewhere that hypothermia was a good way to die. He recalled something about a person just falling asleep and not waking up. It sounded good to him. Better than being eaten alive by rats at any rate. He didn't know if it was true, but he knew he was tired of holding on and fighting.

  The last spurt of adrenaline died off, and all Danny wanted to do was close his eyes.

  So he did.

  His eyes closed, and he slowly drifted off.

  He didn't feel the rats congregate around his feet, he didn't feel their tiny sharp claws as they climbed up his trousers and jacket towards his face, and he didn't feel any pain as one dug its teeth into the soft flesh of his bottom lip.

  Where he was, nothing could hurt him.

  Chapter Twelve

  7th November, 0600 hours – Ryhope, Sunderland

  He unlocked the door to the room and entered. It wasn’t normal for him to visit at this time of day: he usually liked the quiet of the night to do his work. He would just check on her and initiate stage one of her learning process before leaving.

  It was even darker in the small room than it was outside. He snapped on the light.

  He watched as the girl uncurled herself in the cage, and looked up at him with big brown eyes. She looked like she had a cold; snot had dried around her nose and on her top lip. He could see her pupils were dilated and the vomit in the cage indicated she’d brought up the sandwiches he’d left for her. He felt momentary anger. What a waste. My mother would have tanned my hide if I’d eaten then been sick afterwards.

  But this girl wasn’t him. And he sure as hell wasn’t his mother.

  He turned on the video camera in the corner, double-checking the view hadn’t changed, then made his way to the cage.

  ‘Subject seven, day three. Subject is displaying symptoms consistent with a cold, but I believe this is due to withdrawal of the heroin that was in her system. I am unaware of how long she was at the address in Sunderland so don’t know when she had her last fix. Today, I will provide her with some bruising. I expect her to be resistant.’

  He unlocked the cage door and waited for Nita to clamber out. He knew she would think she had a chance of escape. They all did. He’d have to teach her escape wasn’t an option.

  Grabbing her arm as she exited the cage, he gripped hard and forced her into the chair, methodically securing her hands and feet. After the incident last time, he wouldn’t be so careless as to forget to do that.

  Knowing it would come without warning to the girl, he slapped her hard. The crack echoed round the roo
m, and she cried out, tears springing to her eyes as redness flooded her cheek. She started mumbling again in her native tongue.

  He changed tactic and gently ran his hand down the side of her cheek, placating her with his touch, or trying to anyway. She pulled her head away from him in fear, and he slapped her again. Before she could react to the pain, he punched her with an uppercut that sounded like it made her teeth rattle in her head, and followed it with another punch, this time to the girl’s stomach. Her breath left her body with a whoosh, and she made a sound similar to that of a donkey as she gasped for breath. Her eyes were bulging now, fear creating the instinctive response. Pulling back slightly, he boxed her ears, knowing that when he stopped they would ache and swell.

  Glancing at the clock, he registered the time. That was it for now, he had things to do and he couldn’t delay here. He unhooked the straps and pulled her roughly from the chair, frowning as he saw tears streak down her cheeks.

  ‘No. You must learn to cope with the pain. It’s the only way you can survive. I’m teaching you this so that you may live, little one. It’s the only way.’

  He punched her in the stomach, causing her to double over, and giving him the perfect angle from which to shove her inside the cage. The door to the cage slammed with a screech – metal on metal.

  And for the first time that morning he smiled.

  He had a good feeling about this one. She would learn, he was sure of it.

  Turning the camera off, he pushed his messy hair into a semblance of tidiness, and left.

  7th November, 1835 hours –Sunderland Police HQ

  Ali rubbed his hands over his eyes, and not for the first time that week, he wondered what the hell he was doing. In the last week, he’d had two bodies in the water. Something that in his whole career had probably only happened a handful of times. Which was good: the less the better as far as he was concerned.

  Every time he was near the water, he felt his gut tighten and the nausea appeared from nowhere. It had always been the same.

  Except it hasn’t. I used to love the water. I loved the feel of it on my skin, and the weight of the tank on my back. I loved the bobbing of the RIB as we went out over the Forth, and the good feeling from recovering something that only the dive team could do. I would still love it too. If it hadn’t happened –

  He pushed his chair back suddenly and stood. He wasn’t going down that route, not here and definitely not now. It was just the two deaths that were bringing his memories to the forefront, he knew that. He just had to keep fighting and leave them in the box where they were in his mind.

  Packed away in the recesses where the bad stuff was sent, never to see the light of day.

  Damn, I need a break. Why didn’t I just tell Alex ‘no’ when he asked me to cover his damn shift today?

  His mind wandered back to the recovery of the body two days before. Deena, one of the CSIs had arrived seconds after the RIB had been launched. They’d stood together and gasped as the hull of the RIB had made a beeline for Marlo’s head.

  He’d been ready to ditch his shoes and jump in, he knew he had. He’d been too busy to ponder on his almost-action until now, and he didn’t know why his subconscious chose this moment to pop the memory back in front of him.

  He could still swim – wasn’t afraid of pools – but he hadn’t been near a river since it had happened. It was so long ago but it was as fresh in his mind as if it had happened yesterday, even if he never opened the box to let it out. He knew if he did, he’d be able to smell the salty breeze from the water, his body would feel the gentle lull of the boat on the waves, he’d be able to smell the jasmine in her hair… Pulling himself from the edge of the steep cliff of remembrance was harder today than usual. Unresolved issues had a habit of coming back at inopportune times, and this was definitely one of those times.

  Suddenly realising he was standing beside his desk, in the middle of a crowded office, was enough to pull him back this time, back from the place he didn’t want to go. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and headed to the kitchen. Coffee, that’s what I need right now.

  ‘Liar!’ his mind taunted. ‘What you need is her not to be dead.’

  Guilt threatened to open the catch to the box, and he strode purposefully to the kitchen. Changing his mind last minute, he decided to work the rest of the shift on call from his flat. He had things to do, but there was nothing urgent and nothing had happened as yet. He could be at a scene in a flash, and at least at the flat he could use the running machine that his brother had left with him. Ali had inherited the flat from Alex when he moved in with his wife, Cass. Cass’s cottage was smaller, without the room for the makeshift gym Alex had used at home. So he’d left it in the flat and just came round when it suited, though that had been much less often since the baby had arrived.

  Picturing his niece in his mind, Ali realised it had been too long since he had visited the cottage. When they got back from seeing the family, he’d make more of an effort. His niece was coming up on a year old. He had to go round more often or he’d miss the important stuff.

  Filling his mind with thoughts of his niece helped his mind push the bad stuff back. He told Charlie he was going home for a bit, and she nodded at him in acknowledgement before turning back to her computer. He knew she’d call if anything major happened, as would the control room.

  8th November, 0540 hours, Dive Team HQ, South Shields

  Elvie stretched with a yawn. It was toasty under the tarp, but she’d been there for over two days now and had barely moved. After everyone had gone last night, she’d raided the fridge again, bringing some snacks down to her ‘den’. She’d even found a shower room and, once she’d figured out how to turn it on, had washed her hair and herself. Her dress was still smelly, though: she hadn’t managed to find any clothing to wear while she washed it.

  Pulling herself out from under the tarp, she shivered as a blast of cold air hit her. Peeking out through the window of the rear door, she saw the shimmer of frost on the windscreen of the vehicles in the back yard. It was icy cold: she wasn’t used to weather like this. If she was going to leave the confines of the building she’d been staying in, she would need warmer clothing.

  Frowning, she realised that a big part of her didn’t want to leave. She knew she should: the chance of getting caught if she stayed was high; she was in a police station, after all. But it felt safe. If she left she didn’t know where she would go, or if anyone would help her.

  Climbing up the stairs to the break room, she pulled some more chocolate bars from the fridge, folding the bottom of her dress up a little to hold them.

  She’d found the kettle and figured out how to turn it on to heat water, and had found the staff coffee and tea. She’d tried both, the coffee making her nose curl with its bitterness. But she liked the tea. Belatedly realising she had to put the chocolate bars down to make a hot drink, she dumped them unceremoniously on the table.

  No one was here, anyway.

  She hummed to herself as she made her drink, an old song Noni had sung to her when she was little. It was in her native tongue and it made her feel safe, ‘sleep now, youngest one, your mother is far away, and she can’t come for you.’

  Picking up the chocolate bars, she turned and made her way back to the stairs.

  Maybe I won’t leave. Maybe I’ll just stay here instead. I like it here.

  She pushed open the door at the top with her hip, then froze as she heard the bottom door open and footsteps start coming up.

  Oh my God. There’s someone coming!

  She felt her heart pounding in her chest as panic threatened to keep her frozen to the spot. If she stayed though, she knew she’d get caught. Turning quickly, she pushed open the door to the female toilets and entered. She went into a cubicle, silently put the chocolate bars and the hot cup down on the top of the loo, and sat on the seat.

  Terrified, she couldn’t stop shaking. If they find me they’ll send me back to that house, I can’t go back there.
They’ll kill me. Please don’t find me!

  She jumped as the top door of the stairs closed with a crash; it was spring loaded and if it wasn’t caught then it shut itself, loudly. She imagined she could hear footsteps outside in the corridor that led to the break room, and she would have sworn she heard them stop outside the toilets.

  Holding her breath, she waited for the bathroom door to open.

  But it didn’t.

  She heard another door open and close somewhere further past the rest room, and deciding that now was the time, she moved from her position. Gathering up her snacks and drink, she snuck out of the bathroom, tiptoed back to the stair door and opened it. She tried not to breathe in case someone was lying in wait for her, and cocked her head to one side, listening for any sound that the person was nearby.

  Only silence greeted her though, so she went through the door, using her hip to close it softly so that the only sound it made was a click. She wanted to run down the stairs, and hide under her tarp and never come back out. But she couldn’t. If she ran she’d spill her tea and someone would realise. So she silently went down the stairs, navigated around the piles of equipment and found the place she’d been calling home. Pulling the tarp over her head, she sat and finally exhaled.

  That was close. I need to be more careful. She wrapped her now cold hands around the warm mug of sweet tea and took a couple of sips.

  Noni had loved her tea, preferring it freshly brewed from a pot rather than the bagged form that was more popular. And because Noni had enjoyed it so much, Elvie had been brought up on it. It had been a tradition of sorts, Noni having a cup ready for Elvie before bedtime, and Elvie getting up and having a pot ready when her gran had got up in the morning.

  Thinking about her gran made her sad. It had been so hard. People telling her what to do and how to act during the funeral. Her great aunt had taken care of the arrangements, but they’d never been close. The only person that mattered to Noni was Elvie, and Noni’s sister had always been jealous of their close bond. The second the funeral was over, her aunt had left Elvie in the house on her own, saying she’d come and sort out Noni’s things in a couple of days. But she hadn’t come back.