Captive

by Jay Nadal

  Being an Asian officer, he had attracted more than his fair share of racially abusive comments when arresting suspects. It was something that came with the territory, and something that he had got used to. But it was never always the case. As a young PC, he had been spat at, assaulted and had racial taunts thrown at him most Friday and Saturday nights.

  To begin with, he had found them both hurtful and demoralising. As time went by, and with the support of his fellow officers, he had learnt to accept the abuse. If he was to do the job he loved and had always dreamt of doing, then not letting it interfere with his judgement, would be something he’d have to get used to.

  It was something he’d always had to put up with. As far as he could remember, from the age of eleven at secondary school, he was one of only five Asian pupils in the whole of his academic year. Racial taunts and physical abuse were an unfortunate accepted norm of school life. He had spent many a night wishing that he had been born white like his fellow school friends so that he could blend into his environment, and feel normal.

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  Raj jolted and looked up from his newspaper to see DCI Berry standing there with two cups of tea. “I hope you like tea?”

  Raj shifted uncomfortably, having been caught off guard by Berry. “Yes…erm, yes, Ma’am,” Raj stuttered.

  DCI Berry pulled the chair opposite Raj, the metal legs screeching across the floor. “I hope you don’t mind me joining you?”

  Raj straightened up and checked to make sure that his tie and top button were done up. Berry looked just as immaculate after a full shift as she had this morning. Her hair was immaculate and shiny. Her suit looked as if it had just been ironed, and her white blouse still appeared to be crease-free. She had the poise and elegance of a corporate professional, and the attractiveness of a confident woman.

  He cleared his throat before saying, “No, not at all, Ma’am. I was just reading through the paper, but nothing of interest. I thought I’d just take a quick break.”

  Berry nodded. “I try and avoid the papers myself. I think we deal with enough shit without being reminded of it.”

  “You’re not wrong there, Ma’am.”

  “Are you enjoying the job?”

  Berry’s question took Raj by surprise. Her tone hinted of subterfuge. Or perhaps that was just him being super cautious because of her seniority.

  “Yes, Ma’am. I love the job. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to be. Even more so because I’m Asian.”

  Berry raised a questioning eyebrow.

  Raj continued, needing to explain himself. “Whilst growing up, there was always an air of suspicion around the police, especially in the minority communities. I had loads of friends who didn’t like the police. You know the usual stuff, the continuous stop and search, the them versus us mentality and of course…the institutionalised racism.” Raj pronounced the last few words slowly and carefully as he levelled his gaze at Berry, not knowing how she would take it.

  Berry just nodded, her face giving nothing away as to whether she agreed or disagreed with Raj’s comments. “Well, we’re glad that you’ve chosen this career, and hopefully you set a great example to many in your community.”

  Raj nodded his approval and accepted that as a genuine comment.

  Berry stirred her tea. “And how do you find working for DI Baker?” she asked, the casualness of the question drifting across the openness of the table, as her eyes remained firmly fixed on her tea.

  Raj pondered her question for a few moments. “He’s the best guv I’ve worked for. He listens to all of us. He’s down-to-earth, and he’s always got our back.”

  Berry gave an approving nod. “That’s good to know. I always knew he would do well. It’s good to know that he’s got your back. How did you all cope with Sian’s death, then?”

  Raj was shocked by the directness of Berry’s question. Sian’s death was still raw in the minds of the team and the whole station. The life and energy in the station hadn’t returned since.

  “We all took it hard. Sian was a great officer and a good friend,” Raj replied, as he sniffed and cleared his throat. “Her loss shook us all. One minute she was here, and the next…” Raj’s voice trailed off as he stared down.

  “And how did DI Baker take it?”

  Raj locked his gaze on Berry’s eyes. Her face was expressionless, but her eyes searched and probed.

  “As I said, we all took it really hard, including the Guv. I think he felt personally responsible.”

  “And was he…?”

  Raj’s eyes narrowed at the accusation, the muscles in his jaws flexed as he clenched his teeth and shook his head.

  “No, Ma’am, he wasn’t…It could have happened to any officer anywhere in the country. It’s a risk we all accept when we clock on every day.”

  “And is that how every officer in the station sees it?”

  “You’d have to ask them, Ma’am. I’m just expressing my point of view, and I think I speak on behalf of the team as well. But I think you’d need to ask the rest yourself.”

  DCI Berry pushed her chair back and paused for a moment as she reflected on Raj’s comment.

  “It’s been good talking to you, Raj. I like getting to know the officers that I’m working with. It helps to build that level of trust and working partnership that we need to do our jobs properly, and get the results we’re looking for. I’m going to head off now, but if there’s anything you want to talk about, then my door is always open,” she offered.

  Raj nodded silently and watched Berry as she strode purposefully out of the canteen. He felt an unease ripple through him.

  28

  Scott drained the last remnants of his cold coffee. He’d been meaning to top it up with a fresh refill ages ago, but time had just flown by as he stared at his computer screen. With a grimace, he tongued the bitterness coating the inside of his mouth. He pushed his cup to one side and cursed as to why he had decided to finish it off.

  He drew his hands across his face and stared up at the ceiling. The team had long gone home except for Raj, who had the late shift. Scott felt tired, and his body ached. He needed his bed, but the case played on his mind.

  Sometimes a case flowed smoothly, with an assortment of witnesses, forensic evidence left behind at the scene or CCTV footage. Gathering all the information helped to either confirm the timeline of events leading up to a crime, or at least give them active lines of enquiry that would help them to identify a suspect. But this case appeared more complicated. Motives regarding the abduction and murder of Hailey Bratton were thin on the ground, but with the second abduction, a possible motive was being mooted around. There were also very few sightings of both Hailey and Rebecca prior to their disappearances. Hailey’s boyfriend still had a large question mark hanging over his head. The fact that he had disappeared, only confirmed him as a potential suspect.

  Scott relied on his trusted notepad rather than the incident board, as he sketched out his thoughts. On one side of the paper he’d written Hailey Bratton, and on the other side, he had written Rebecca Thorne. As far as he could see, they had nothing in common other than the colour of their hair and attending the same university. Rebecca was in a different class to Hailey, and it appeared that they didn’t share the same tastes in music, either. Scott had also noted that their circle of friends didn’t overlap in any way.

  He drew a series of spiralling circles around Rebecca’s name and decided that her background needed further investigation.

  Scott’s mind drifted back to DCI Berry’s unexpected presence in Meadows’s office. He gritted his teeth as he reflected on how his past had a knack of fucking up his happiness. No matter what he did, events from the past seemed to not only haunt him but pop up when he least expected it.

  The press appeal that Scott had organised ahead of Meadows’s formal press conference had yielded lots of calls, and for that he was grateful. Now the laborious task began of sifting through every call and ranking them in level of import
ance between low, medium and high. The calls that were ranked as high or medium would be investigated and followed up first, as their time was limited, and so were their resources.

  One call had been of particular interest to the team. It had related to a possible unlicensed taxi touting for trade. That in itself wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in and around town. The public was always warned about getting into an unlicensed taxi, but it was the fact that several calls came from female members of the public who had all reported the same thing. They all described the driver as appearing creepy, in his mid-forties, dressed smartly in a suit, which in itself appeared to be strange.

  He jolted in his chair as his thoughts were disturbed by DCI Berry’s presence in his doorway.

  “Sorry, Ma’am, I didn’t realise you were there.”

  DCI Berry leant against the frame of the door, with her arms crossed. Scott couldn’t help but notice how her tight white blouse strained at the buttons. Small gaps of flesh poked out between each buttonhole.

  “I didn’t want to disturb you. I know what you’re like when you’re deep in thought. You number crunch, go through a thousand different hypotheses in your mind, and generally switch off from the world around you.”

  Berry’s assessment of him was pretty much spot on. It would take a herd of buffalo to distract him when he was knee-deep in a tough case.

  “I’m just going through the cases and trying to find a link between Hailey and Rebecca, if indeed one exists. I know it’s early days, but we really haven’t got much to go on at the moment. I’ve instructed the control room to liaise with the CCTV team in town and see if we can find this unlicensed cab on any of the footage.”

  Berry nodded in agreement. “Stating the obvious, but I think being a redhead has something to do with it. When I dealt with the Essex job, we identified eleven cases in which women with red hair had either gone missing or had been murdered in the past seven years. We ran dozens of checks on their backgrounds to try to find the commonality, some type of link, but we drew a blank,” she said rolling her eyes in frustration.

  “And did you arrive at the conclusion that all eleven cases were connected?”

  “Some were, in terms of they were students and had red hair. Several of the cases appeared far more random. But in our opinion they were all linked because of the way in which they were finally murdered,” she said. Berry drew her finger across her navel, to indicate the manner in which they were cut.

  Scott flipped open a brown folder on his desk and thumbed through the pieces of paper. He pulled out one particular sheet and waved it in the air for Berry to retrieve.

  “Matt from forensics came back on the oil traces that were found on the heels of victim one. It has a unique composition. It’s used in marine engineering. I think he referred to it as break-in oil. It’s not used now, but has a high concentration of metallic debris.” Scott continued to elaborate when Berry looked blankly at him. “Don’t ask me when, but ages ago before the advent of new marine technology, engines were factory-filled with a special oil. This oil contained an extra dose of detergent and other additives that helped new engine parts, especially bearings and piston rings, wear in together. The metallic debris from this ‘break in’ would be carried away by the break-in oil and flushed from the engine on that first oil change.”

  “And they don’t do that any more?”

  “Not as far as I know. Things have moved on since then. But the point is, Hailey Bratton had been somewhere where there was evidence of this marine oil. Now bearing in mind it’s not used any more, it would suggest that she was somewhere where it had been used.”

  “So places where the engines were made?”

  “Or…where they were repaired,” Scott said pointing the tip of his pen in her direction.

  Berry rocked on her tired and aching feet. Part of her wanted to kick off her heels, and just flop in the spare chair in Scott’s office. She looked in Scott’s direction and was just about to open her mouth when Scott interrupted.

  “And just before you say, Matt has identified nineteen locations along the south coast which were industries or trades associated with marine engineering. That’s going to be our next line of investigation first thing tomorrow morning.”

  Berry raised her brow before saying, “I’m impressed, Scott. Not just a pretty face.”

  Scott offered a weak smile. If someone else had said that to him, he would have laughed at the joke. For Berry to say it, she was teasing him, which riled him once again.

  Berry made her excuses and told Scott she was heading off home after a long day.

  Silence enveloped Scott once again. Other than the sound of his own breath, a distinctive stillness hung in the air. Berry had always been an elusive character, and that made Scott wary. Whether she was checking up on him, or wishing to discuss the cases in more detail, he remained cautious.

  He’d promised Cara that he would come over for dinner this evening. As the hours had passed, and being knee-deep in paperwork, he had reluctantly sent Cara a text telling her he wouldn’t be coming this evening.

  He got up and looked out of his window into the blackness of the night. Most of the town might be asleep, but his mind wouldn’t switch off. The cogs processed the many emotions that swirled within him. A mixture of anger, frustration and confusion made him weary and tired, but restless and agitated all at the same time. He felt guilty for letting Cara down, and he could sense the disappointment in her voice when she had phoned shortly after receiving his text message.

  Once again, he had missed out on the opportunity to be in her arms. He couldn’t think of a safer place to be. Her warm skin pressed against his, their arms entwined like lovers always do, sharing the same space, the same air and the same moment.

  29

  He rang once on the doorbell and waited patiently as he glanced up and down this quiet suburban street. For company this evening he had the nightly predators – owls, foxes and rats that scurried from garden to garden searching for morsels of food and tiny insects.

  The key turned in the door before it opened, revealing a darkened hallway. The only illumination came from a small table lamp that emitted a red glow that barely made things any clearer.

  A tall, attractive, blonde, slim and busty woman stood in the dark silhouette of the doorway. Her black full-length PVC catsuit squeaked as she moved.

  Words lay unspoken between them. They knew the drill. She led him by the hand down the hallway and into the basement.

  The leather cut into his wrists as he lay spreadeagled and naked on the table. A broad, evil smile spread across his face in anticipation of what was to come.

  Each whip of the leather paddle on his erect penis sent shivers of ecstatic pain through his body. He clenched his fists and curled his toes as he fought to protect his body from the repeated strikes. His eyes rolled up into the roof of his sockets as his mind escaped to the darkest of places.

  “I’ve been a bad boy, mistress.”

  “How bad?”

  “Real bad, I’ve been greedy…” He didn’t manage to finish the sentence as electricity coursed through his skin via the electrodes attached to his nipples. With each click of the dial, the mistress exacted the pain he truly deserved.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Yesss,” he groaned through gritted teeth.

  She firmly gripped the shaft of his penis and slid the cold metal pin through the tip and down into his urethra. He squirmed and thrashed as a burning bolt of pain erupted in his groin. His eyes widened in a mixture of terror and hedonism.

  His constant thrashing needed to be tempered. Several hard slaps across his cheeks left a red tinge of burning pain on his face.

  “Silence!” she screamed. “I’m in charge here. You will scream when I tell you to scream. You will move when I tell you to move, understood?” she demanded, pushing the steel rod in further.

  “Yes, mistress,” he replied, nodding as his eyes stretched wide open.

  The mistress took her time pu
nishing him. He had paid for an hour, and she wanted to make sure he got what he’d asked for. What he needed. She was the consummate professional, well experienced in her trade. She judged the quality of her work by the level of pain and discomfort she meted out to her customers.

  “Hurt me. Mark me,” he whispered.

  The mistress took one of the many candles that flickered around the room and held it above his chest. The bright flickering flame reflected in his widened eyeballs. His mouth gasped ready to receive the next round of punishment. His back arched as the first drops of molten candle wax fell on his chest. No sooner had they dried, then new drops fell along the length of his chest and abdomen. Waxy, white trails hardened and pulled his skin tight.

  He groaned as his body loosened. Every muscle had been rigid in anticipation.

  Now he was spent.

  “I should have brought Hailey here to you. You could have done a better job than me.”

  “You’re more than welcome to bring the next one to me,” the mistress replied, as she untied his bindings and flipped him over onto his front.

  He gripped the handrails on either side of the table in anticipation. He knew what came next. He wasn’t sure if he noticed the crack of the whip first or the searing heat of the laceration on his back. He arched his back as repeated strokes bore down on him like a storm of hailstones. She showed him no leniency or compassion.

  Each strike cut deeper and deeper into his skin. His teeth were now firmly locked tight, as his body fought hard to numb the pain. He needed this. He had done bad things and needed the punishment. He needed to experience the pain that he had inflicted on so many others, only then could they be seen as equals.

  A deep, guttural scream remained trapped in his throat. What felt like a series of acupuncture needles traced a line across his back. Each tiny hole made by the spiked wheel drew a red globule of blood that formed the dotted trail. Every part of him wanted to cry out, but he knew the risks of doing so.