The Torment of Others

by Val McDermid

Paula had no idea how long she had been lying in the stark, oppressive room with its bare bulb making everything brutally vivid. At first, all she’d felt was overwhelming relief and gratitude that she was still alive. She had no idea why that should be; she knew his previous victims must have been attacked almost as soon as he’d snatched them from the street. And when he had produced that vile, horrifying implement, she’d been sure she was going the same way. But no. He’d simply exposed her genitals to the camera, brandished the lethal dildo in front of her and giggled. Then he’d checked her bindings and stepped back, fingering his cock through the faded denim of his baggy trousers. She’d thought then he was going to rape her, but that fear wasn’t realized either. He’d gazed hungrily at her for a few minutes, stroking his erection as if it were a pet rat. Then he’d checked the video camera and the webcam and left. Since then, she’d been alone. She’d struggled to free herself, but soon gave up, understanding that the only thing she was achieving was the fruitless expenditure of energy she might need later. She’d tried shouting for help, but the gag pressing against her mouth was far too effective to allow anything other than a moan to escape. There was nothing to do but lie there, shivering with cold and fear. The puddle of piss beneath her had soaked into the thin mattress and spread out, making her even colder.

  Paula tried to convince herself they’d be coming to get her soon. Carol Jordan would never abandon her. That he’d left her alive made her think he believed they were close on his heels. He’d gone because he didn’t expect to have the time to sit and watch her die once he’d cut her. But as the time trickled by, she began to lose faith. At one point she’d thought she heard faint footfalls and muffled conversation. But even as she strained to hear, the sounds faded and she was left wondering if it had all been her imagination.

  This was all her own fault. How could she have missed him cutting the wire? If she’d been paying attention to her mission instead of freaking out because he’d pinched her nipple so painfully, she’d have known she was on her own. Then, as soon as they reached the room and she’d seen confirmation in the tools of his trade arranged on the table, she could have taken him by surprise and nailed him. But she’d dropped the ball. She’d focused on her reactions rather than on the job and now she was paying the price.

  But she was still alive. As long as she was still alive, she could believe in rescue. Carol Jordan would break down every door in Temple Fields if she had to. She knew what it was like to be hung out to dry by her bosses, and there was no way she would allow that to happen to Paula. Whatever it took, Carol would find her.

  The minutes ground by inexorably. Exhausted, Paula was drifting in and out of an altered state that bordered sleep but never quite crossed over. When the door opened, she couldn’t be sure initially whether she was dreaming it. Her heart leapt in her chest. They’d found her!

  Hope perished in seconds when the cruelly familiar shape of her kidnapper came into view. He’d swapped the parka for a hooded top, presumably to avoid being recognized. But she knew who he was only too well. ‘Only me,’ he said. ‘Come to change the tape. The webcam’s not very good, that’s why we need the video too. So we can enjoy watching you suffer.’

  If she strained her neck, she could see him move behind the video camera and remove the tape. He put it in his pocket, then leaned over and did something to the webcam. He leered at her. ‘I’m not supposed to touch you. The Voice says I’ve to wait till the time is right. But the Voice doesn’t see everything.’

  He came towards her, one hand rubbing himself. He climbed awkwardly on to the bed. Paula smelled stale cannabis smoke and the acid tang of half-digested beer as he moved on top of her. He was heavy and clumsy, the zip on his jacket scratching the soft skin of her belly. Suddenly, she felt the smoothness of latex between her labia, fumbling towards her vagina. She tensed herself against him and he grunted. ‘Don’t make it harder on yourself, you silly cunt,’ he growled in her ear. She tried to twist away, but her bonds were too tight and he was too heavy.

  Then he was inside her, fingers pounding and thrusting while he rode her thigh. She could feel his cock rigid through his clothes. Paula bit down on the gag, fighting tears. She didn’t want him to see how much he’d got to her. She tried to dissociate herself from what was happening to her body, but it didn’t work.

  Mercifully, it was over quickly. He hammered his hand into her, his hips forcing her thigh deep into the mattress as he speeded up. His head arched back and he yelped like a kicked puppy. Then he collapsed on top of her, his fingers slithering out of her bruised vagina. He rolled over and grinned. ‘Tight bitch. I like that. It’ll be more fun when I do you.’

  He clambered off the bed, adjusting his jacket to cover the damp patch on his trousers. He slotted a new tape into the video camera, set the webcam running again and headed for the door. ‘See you later, alligator,’ he said, waving as he went.

  The door slammed shut. Only then did Paula begin to weep.

  Carol was in her office making notes for the briefing when Kevin and Sam arrived. ‘Guv, can we have a word?’ Kevin asked.

  She waved them to take a seat with a resigned nod. She’d been half-expecting this. Just another messy conversation that would end up making her feel about as much use as a blind man in an archery contest. ‘Let me guess. You want to help find Paula?’

  ‘She’s one of us, guv. You said at the start we had to be a team. It doesn’t feel right that you’ve pulled me and DC Evans off on something else when one of the team is on the line,’ Kevin said.

  ‘I do understand how you feel,’ Carol said. ‘But I need to know I have the best possible officers running the Golding and Lefevre inquiry. You must have seen the papers this morning–they know two bodies have been found. They’re speculating. The anti-paedophile hysterics are building up a head of steam, and we’re directly in their paths. We have to be seen to be devoting our resources to finding their killer.’

  ‘But they’re dead, and Paula might still be alive,’ Evans protested.

  ‘They may be dead, but they’re still important. And whoever killed them is still out there, possibly planning his next crime.’

  ‘We’re not saying they’re not important, guv,’ Kevin argued. ‘What Sam means is that there’s less urgency.’

  ‘Yeah, it wouldn’t hurt if we put it on hold for a day or two, just while the hunt for Paula’s going on,’ Evans interjected.

  ‘We can’t put it on hold, however much you might like to.’ Carol tapped her finger on a file on her desk. ‘Two positive IDs: Tim Golding and Guy Lefevre. Cause of death in both cases is most probably manual strangulation. We can’t keep that from the press. You’ve already started stirring the pot with the park service and with other groups who may have visited Swindale. Unless our man is deaf and blind, he’s going to know we’re looking for him. I don’t want to give him space to wriggle out from under. We need to keep up the pressure. I’m sorry, guys. You stay with Tim and Guy.’

  Both men still looked mutinous. ‘But, guv…’ Kevin began.

  ‘Kevin, the best thing you can do for Paula is to get an early result on this case. You know that’ll boost morale, help everyone believe we can bring Paula home safe and catch whoever has taken her. There’s no great skill in knocking on doors and chasing up official records, which is more or less all we have to go at this morning. Please, use your talents to give us something positive.’ Carol felt faintly surprised at herself. It was the kind of persuasion she would have used without a thought in previous times. That it came so easily to her now restored some of the confidence she’d lost overnight.

  Kevin at least fell for the bait. He visibly puffed up, basking in the glow of Carol’s flattery. ‘We’ll do our best,’ he said, getting to his feet.

  Evans looked at him, then back at Carol. He shook his head in disbelief then followed Kevin out of the door. As they went, she heard him say, ‘I can’t believe you fell for that bollocks…’

  Carol was on her feet and at the d
oor. ‘Evans,’ she shouted. ‘Back here. Now.’ Startled, he turned back. ‘Kevin, I’m taking Evans off you. Don’t let me down.’ She glared at Evans. ‘My office. Now.’

  Carol shut the door behind them. ‘We’re all under strain here, but that’s no excuse for insubordination. I do not want my officers working with anything less than a whole heart, and it’s clear to me that you are not prepared to give a hundred per cent to easing the pain of two sets of parents whose sons have been murdered.’

  ‘That’s not fair.’ Evans’ expression was mutinous.

  ‘Don’t talk back to me, Constable,’ Carol said, each word enunciated with chill clarity. ‘If you want to stay on this squad, you had better understand that I do not care about your personal preferences when it comes to assignments. I thought I’d already made that clear to you? I choose people for particular tasks because I think they are fitted to them. You’re a talented detective, Evans, but that doesn’t mean you have the right to question my decisions, especially not in my hearing. I’m reassigning you to the Temple Fields inquiry. But don’t think you’ve won. As of now, you are number one on my shit list and it’s going to take something very special indeed to get you out of that slot.’

  A flicker of arrogance crossed Evans’ face. ‘You won’t be waiting long,’ he said. ‘Ma’am.’

  Carol shook her head in exasperation. ‘It’s time to grow up, Evans. Now get out of my sight before I have you reassigned to Traffic’ She watched him leave and sighed. One step forward and two steps back. Time to change the dance, she thought bitterly. Time to pick up momentum and crack the case.

  On the giant TV screen, Paula once more stood on a misty street corner. The man in the parka approached and touched her arm. The dialogue boomed out, still crackly but more clear than it had been in Carol’s earpiece the night before. Paula and the man rounded the corner and the screen faded to static. The soundtrack continued to the point where it ended as abruptly as a slap to the face. There was absolute silence in the room as the lights went back on. Most of the team looked about as shit as Carol felt. Showtime, she thought, squaring her shoulders and stretching her fingers like a pianist. ‘OK,’ she said. That’s the last we saw of Paula. She is still missing. Our job is to find her. Dr Hill believes the chances are good that Paula is alive. This killer wants his victims found while they’re fresh. The fact that we haven’t found Paula suggests she’s not a victim yet. So let’s get to her before that changes. Does anyone recognize that voice? Does that man look familiar? These are the questions we need to be asking.

  ‘We have photographs of Paula at the back of the room. There are also stills from the video available to you. And we’ve got a limited number of microcassette recorders with tapes of the man’s voice that you can play to people in Temple Fields, see if we can get an ID that way. There should be more tape machines available later in the day.

  ‘I’m splitting you into three teams. DI Merrick will remain here, collating information as it comes in via statement readers and HOLMES operators. Sergeant MacLeod from uniform will be in charge of the team extracting details from the council tax registers of every property in Temple Fields. DS Shields will be in charge of the team who will interview every tenant and resident in the area, assisted by information from Sergeant MacLeod’s team. No stone unturned, people. We’ve got an officer out there depending on us. And we’re not going to let her down.’ Carol’s voice rang out with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. But it was her job to make them feel gung-ho, and she was determined to succeed. As they filed out, she called, ‘DI Merrick, DS Shields and DC Chen, a word, please.’

  The remnants of her squad gathered around her. ‘You’ve all worked closely with Paula. Is there anyone we should inform about what’s happened? Parents? Partner?’

  ‘Her mum and dad live in Manchester,’ Merrick volunteered. ‘I can get an address. Do you want me to go and talk to them?’

  ‘No, it’s fine, Don. Get me the address and I’ll deal with it myself.’ If anyone’s going to get a kicking, it should be me. ‘So, that’s it? Parents, no partner?’

  ‘She hasn’t got a girlfriend at the moment,’ Jan said absently.

  Merrick rounded on her angrily. ‘What do you mean, a girlfriend?’

  Jan gave Merrick a pitying look. ‘A lover, a significant other, whatever. Who happens to be female, in Paula’s case.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ Merrick exploded. ‘Paula’s not a dyke.’

  Jan snorted with laughter. ‘You’re living under her roof and you hadn’t noticed she’s gay? Call yourself a detective?’

  Carol did a double-take. Her DI was living with one of her DCs? Who happened to be gay? And she’d known nothing of it? There was something seriously amiss with the bush telegraph on this squad, which she’d have to rectify once they had recovered Paula and things had returned to something approaching normal. It wasn’t that Carol wanted prurient gossip; simply that, if the squad was to work properly, she had to understand the personal dynamics.

  ‘In your dreams, Shields. You’re talking shite,’ Merrick said contemptuously.

  Jan shook her head, her cherub’s face registering amusement. ‘If you say so, Inspector.’ Merrick glared at her, frustrated.

  Stacey, who had been watching the exchange like a Wimbledon spectator, suddenly spoke up. ‘What does it matter who she likes to sleep with? She’s not been abducted because she’s gay or straight, she’s been abducted because she’s a cop and we put her out there to do our dirty work. And I’m going back to my computer to do what I can to put things right. Ma’am?’ She looked to Carol.

  ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself, Stacey. For Christ’s sake, you two, get with the programme. We’ve got a job to do. Shall we get on with it?’

  Tony stared at the man curled up on the bed with his back to the room. Again, Tyler had refused to come either to Tony’s office or to an interview room. But this time, Tony was not to be denied. He was going to prise something from the man. If Paula McIntyre didn’t come out of this alive, he knew Carol would never work as a police officer again, and much as he found that idea personally attractive, he knew he couldn’t sit idly by while she lost the one thing that had shaped her sense of herself as an adult.

  He pulled up a chair close to the bed and leaned forward, elbows on knees. He gathered his thoughts, focused his energies and spoke conversationally. ‘It’s not nice, is it? Knowing you’ve been dumped in favour of somebody else?’ Tyler didn’t move a muscle.

  ‘I mean, when you hear voices, the least you expect is that they’ll be faithful to you. Not abandon you like a pair of worn-out shoes just because you can’t deliver the goods any more.’ Tyler’s leg twitched.

  ‘I can see that’s a notion that upsets you. And no wonder. I’d be upset in your shoes. You’ve been cast adrift, Derek. I bet you thought your voice was going to get you out of here, didn’t you? I bet that’s why you played the “mad not bad” game, because the voice told you to keep your mouth shut. So one day you could start talking again and we’d think you were cured.’ A definite movement, Tony thought. The shoulders tightened, the legs drew further up.

  ‘It’s a funny thing, but I’ve noticed over the years that with most people who hear voices, at some level they’re using the voice as their excuse. Now me, if I thought the Virgin Mary was telling me to kill prostitutes, I wouldn’t do it, because I’ve got no deep-seated desire to kill prostitutes. But a man who secretly believed prostitutes were evil would use the voice as an excuse to do what he thought was the right thing. Like Peter Sutcliffe claimed when he was trying to play the “mad not bad” game.’

  Tony deepened his voice, aiming for warmth and sympathy. ‘But I don’t think that’s how it was with you, Derek. I don’t think you used the voice. I think the voice used you. And now it’s using somebody else. Face it, Derek, you’re not as special as you thought you were.’

  Suddenly Tyler uncoiled and rolled over. He jerked into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, his fac
e inches from Tony. Tony maintained his expression of compassion and concern. Time to play his ace. ‘You’ve been loyal to the voice, but it’s let you down. It’s left you here to rot. It’s found somebody else to do its bidding. It’s betrayed you, Derek. So you might as well return the favour.’

  The silence dragged out between them for a long minute. Then Tyler leaned even closer. Tony could feel the heat of the other man’s breath against his skin. I’ve been waiting for you,’ he croaked.

  Tony nodded gently. ‘I know, Derek.’

  His eyes opened so wide Tony could see the iris as a perfect circle against the white. I’m supposed to be slow. All these doctors, they’re supposed to be clever. But they never got it.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘They all thought it was the voice of God or something. But I’m not daft, you know. I might be slow, but I’m not daft.’

  ‘I know that too. So whose voice was it?’

  Tyler’s lips curled back in a triumphant sneer. The Creeper.’

  ‘The Creeper?’ Tony tried not to show disappointment. ‘Who’s the Creeper?’

  Tyler withdrew a few inches and tapped the side of his nose. ‘You’re so bloody smart, you figure it out.’ Then, in one single fluid movement, he rolled back into his foetal crouch, facing the wall.

  If they’d only sussed it out soon enough, it could have been a field day for Bradfield’s opportunist criminals. Every available officer was out on the streets in a kaleidoscope of encounters.

  On a corner near the sex shop, putting potential customers off, PC Danny Wells: ‘Have you seen this woman in the past twenty-four hours?’ The photograph of Paula, grinning at the camera on a girls’ night out with her colleagues. ‘Do you recognize this man?’ The video still. It could be anybody, really, Danny thought. ‘Listen to this voice. Do you recognize it?’ Play, stop, rewind.

  In the newsagent’s down the street from Paula’s pitch, DS Jan Shields. The Asian behind the counter had the air of a man puffed up with righteous indignation. ‘Have you seen this woman?’ Paula’s photo placed on a pile of morning papers. A shake of the head. ‘Do you know this man?’ The video still placed next to Paula. A shrug.