Captive

by Jay Nadal

  Oh, how he enjoyed his visits here. They pandered to his deepest desires. Desires that he kept locked safely in his mind, only exploited when he found a suitable woman to help him release them. He’d tried exploring his darkest fantasies with Hailey, but she had been too prudish for him. She had told him on many occasions that she would do absolutely anything for him because she loved him so much, but she never did. She never lived up to her side of the bargain. She had been all talk and no action.

  A momentary lapse in the onslaught gave him a few precious moments to recover. His racing heart pounded against his ribs, whilst she helped herself up upon the table to stand astride of him.

  The final act of humiliation was the one he liked best and often asked her to keep until the end.

  A warm liquid trickled across his back and stung the redness, the welts and cuts. Her golden shower made his visit complete.

  30

  A gleeful smile of self-satisfaction spread across his face as he leant back in his chair. He was in complete control. He had kept Rebecca teetering on the edge. Just as all hope seemed to fade in her eyes, he came to her rescue, a knight in shining armour. He delighted when her eyes shone with gratitude for him. The way in which she looked at him with her soulful eyes made him feel special. When those around her were letting her down, he was there to support her, to be there in her hour of need. She hadn’t said it in those words, but he could tell by her expression, that she loved him.

  He scanned various photographs on his laptop. He had created a new folder, with new images. If there was one thing he liked about his job, it was the freedom to explore the length and breadth of the town in search of beautiful women. Of course, they never saw him, because he had perfected the art of concealment and blending in with his surroundings. He never wore anything garish, anything loud or bright that would attract notice. He stuck to neutral colours like black or white T-shirts, dark jeans or trousers and dark hoodies. Darker clothes proved particularly helpful at night when he could move in the shadows.

  “I agree, Sally,” he said with a nod of his head. “We would like Rebecca to stay with us as long as possible, and the thought of her being alone doesn’t sit comfortably with me. Your suggestion of finding her a friend is a perfect idea. A playmate, and there’s nothing better than the union of two female forms locked in passion and entwined in excitement.”

  The prospect of two, young vibrant women excited him. His heart began to pound, threatening to burst from his chest as the hairs on the back of his neck bristled. His groin ached from deep within. His mind raced ahead, as various visions cascaded over each other, each new one more exciting than the last.

  “You know me too well, Sally. I know, I know, you don’t need to keep reminding me about how I get carried away. What can I say? I’m getting greedy.”

  He rubbed his hands in excitement and puckered his lips like an exuberant child, as he pulled his chair closer to his desk and leant over his laptop. He had captured so much content, he barely knew where to start. He was always like this when he was about to start a new endeavour. Each project was the identification, surveillance and capture of each new female. Each female was chosen based on a certain set of criteria. They had to have a certain colour of hair. They had to wear tight jeans, enjoy wearing high heels, look after their bodies and, finally, they needed to really fancy him.

  The several women that he had had relationships with in the past had initially spurned his attention. They fought hard to resist his charm to the point where they had tried to throw him off the scent by calling him a weirdo, pervert and sick bastard. But in his eyes, they were just playing hard to get. It was all part of the chase. He knew as long as he pursued them long enough, they would eventually fall for his charms, and fall into his arms with only a little bit of assistance on his part.

  He fired up the browser on his laptop and opened up Facebook and Instagram. He punched away furiously on the keyboard, and within a few clicks he found what he was looking for, his next project.

  She was a corker in his eyes. Hailey had been good, with her tall slender body, almond-shaped eyes, voluptuous lips and sultry looks. She had been an amazing find. But Rebecca outshone her. She knew the real meaning of pouting and attracting his attention. Her large breasts, hourglass figure and seductiveness had charmed him like no other ever had. That’s why he hoped that Sally would let him keep her for a bit longer than they anticipated.

  His new project grabbed his attention for many reasons. As he glanced through her profile pictures on Facebook, she was certainly plainer than Hailey and Rebecca. He loved her name as much as he loved the thought of ruining her for any other man. She still dressed in the same provocative way, the tight jeans, the heeled boots and the tight tops, but there was something else about her that he found attractive. The nature of her character appealed to him as he played the secret video footage he’d captured of her in Western Road.

  He had stood behind her whilst she queued in several shops in town. It was her soft, kind demeanour that attracted him. She was delicate, almost to the point where if you shouted boo, she would jump out of her skin. The opportunity to explore that rawness about her beauty proved too tempting an offer to let slip by.

  On their many occasions together, Sally had told him that he needed to look beyond the exterior beauty of a person. She had stressed that his obsession with women was neither healthy nor attractive. He had vehemently argued his defence, stating that he never intended to hurt anyone, but found that he couldn’t help himself sometimes.

  He knew there was a part of him that he couldn’t control. A part that got him into trouble on more than one occasion. As far back as he could remember, he had always had an infatuation with the female form.

  He recalled creeping into school at the end of the day when no one was around and rifling through the desks of the girls in his class. He used to pleasure himself as he sniffed their PE knickers. He would watch from a discreet distance, as the girls from his year took part in netball practice at lunchtimes. Their tight white PE tops would stretch over their budding breasts.

  He gritted his teeth hard as he recalled how some of the more popular, and tarty girls dated older guys with cars. The same jealousy he experienced back then still raced through his body now as he thought about those times. He was too shy to ask anyone out. After all, he was just a nobody. Taunted for years by female classmates who gave him the nickname Pervy B after he was caught looking through the windows of the girl’s changing rooms.

  They never understood him. They never understood that he loved them; he admired them and lusted over them.

  He had enjoyed pinning Diane to the tree after school and forcing his hand inside her knickers. She had been walking home through the park and hadn’t noticed him creeping up on her. He didn’t know what all the fuss was about when he had been expelled from school. After all, she screamed in enjoyment and held on tight to his hand around her neck. She had loved it as much as he had, otherwise she wouldn’t have been so vocal, he reasoned.

  He knew even at that age that there were two halves to him.

  The part that loved Diane, Hailey, Rebecca and all the other girls and women he had discovered as projects, was the part that now controlled him.

  He unfolded the cotton bundle on his desk to reveal the cold, bright, shiny steel of the blade. The next project beckoned him as he switched off the light and headed off into the darkness of night.

  31

  Scott had been in long before the rest of the team had arrived. He’d spent the first hour of his shift briefing local officers. They were tasked with conducting a search of the nineteen locations identified with marine engineering. He had set a radius of ten miles from Brighton which meant that officers had to scour a large area. The search would extend as far as Newhaven in the east, and to Worthing in the west. With the many little entry points and marinas along the coast, they would have their work cut out for them.

  Their main task was to narrow down the potential locatio
ns and report back to Scott who could then decide whether the shortlist required further investigation.

  By mid-morning with the search well underway, nine of the nineteen locations had been ruled out as legitimate businesses.

  Matt’s email regarding the marine oil had given Scott and the team some hope and direction. It had also given Meadows something significant to talk about in the official press conference.

  Much to Meadows’s disapproval, Scott had informed his superior about the decision to pull Helen off campus. It had led to a heated exchange in Meadows’s office. With Freddie Coltrane’s disappearance, Scott had argued about the waste of valuable police resources if they continued to leave Helen on campus. He argued that there was a strong enough security presence on campus to inform them should Freddie reappear.

  Meadows agreed with Scott’s reasoning, which took Scott by surprise. His boss nevertheless, continued to argue that it would be against the express wishes of the vice-chancellor and the ACC and CC. Scott reiterated that he would take personal responsibility for the decision to bring Helen back into the team.

  Seeing DCI Berry head off in the direction of the press conference accompanied by Meadows filled him with a mixture of remorse and anger. His exclusion sat uncomfortably with him.

  With one eye on his phone waiting for further updates from the local units, and the other eye firmly fixed on the TV screen in CID, Scott joined the team gathered around the TV.

  It was a welcomed relief to see Helen stride back through the doors of the station.

  “Good to have you back, Swift,” Mike announced as she walked into the CID floor. There was very little time to welcome her back as Abby beckoned them all to be quiet with a loud “Sssh.”

  Scott watched intently as the camera zoomed in on Meadows and DCI Berry sitting behind a desk draped in blue cloth. They both typically represented the professional, corporate image that Sussex Police liked to portray. They were both immaculately turned out. Meadows, in a dark grey suit, crisp white shirt and red tie, was matched by DCI Berry who wore a dark grey two-piece skirt suit, white blouse, offset with a silver chain around her neck. Her dark brown hair shimmered under the lights that were trained on the desk.

  A sea of cameras and reporters were trained on the two officers as they went through their formal introductions and the reasons for the press conference.

  Meadows introduced DCI Berry as “An experienced senior officer drafted in specifically for this case due to her ability that was proving to be a valuable addition to the team.”

  The team gave a collective gasp but didn’t look in Scott’s direction when Meadows had gone on to say that the ongoing investigation had proved a challenge for the team.

  Scott kept his anger firmly bottled up, as many of the team shook their heads in disbelief.

  Meadows and Berry alternated as they released information to the press about the current cases and the unsolved cases in Essex. Meadows went on to say how he appealed to members of the public to contact them if there was anything about these cases that they recognised. He also put out an extra request for any members of the public who were in the area at the time of the abductions.

  Pictures were shown of all the victims and the locations in which they were found, in the hope that it would jog some memories.

  Meadows opened the floor to questions and was bombarded by reporters in every direction. Mike tugged on Scott’s sleeve and gave him a subtle nod to take a few steps back. The others continued to listen to the questions that were being thrown at both officers. Questions about links in forensics, why Essex Police were unable to identify any suspects? Why the unusual step of drafting in an Essex Police officer to oversee a Sussex case?

  The questions faded into the distance as Scott listened to what Mike had to say.

  “Guv, listen, between you and me, DCI Berry was asking me a lot of questions about you.”

  Scott quickly turned his head to look in Mike’s direction, a look of concern creased the lines on his forehead.

  “Like what?” Scott asked quickly, his concern overshadowed the events being played out on TV.

  “Just loads of fishing questions, Guv. Like how the team coped with Sian’s death, whether it could have been preventable, what we think of you as a governor.” Mike fell silent as he raised his eyebrows to suggest that he didn’t like her tone of questioning.

  “I’m sure there’s nothing in it, Mike,” Scott said, as he did his best to appear unfazed. In reality, his mind whirred around her ulterior motives.

  “I didn’t say much, Guv. I just said and that with all due respect if she had questions about you, then she should ask you directly. I just made my excuses and said I needed to go for a piss,” Mike shrugged. “Then she went and hit on Raj.”

  Scott took a deep breath before he slowly exhaled in the hope that it would relax and calm his rising frustration.

  “Thank you for telling me, Mike. I appreciate it.”

  Mike moved in a few inches closer to Scott’s shoulder.

  “Off the record, Guv, and between you and me, it feels like you’re been fucked over. But I want you to know I’ve got your back, Guv.”

  32

  Meadows and Berry had earlier returned from the press conference pleased with how it had gone. They had fielded a steady stream of questions from the gathered press corps, who had rapidly consumed details of the case as they were released during the conference. The reporters from The Argus and BBC Sussex had been the most vocal with their questions. They had pushed Berry to confirm whether the female residents were safe to walk the streets at night.

  Berry had gone to great lengths to confirm that the police were using all available resources to ensure the safety of the local female population. It wasn’t an answer she was comfortable saying, but it had been the one that had been given to her as a suitable response by the Sussex Police press officer.

  A flurry of flashlights and rapid clicks of laptop keyboards heightened the excitement in the room as the press conference concluded. Everyone was keen to write, edit and upload their piece ahead of the pack.

  It hadn’t taken long for the press conference to have its desired effect. There had been a steady stream of phone calls to Scott’s team. Whenever there was a press conference, there would be a mixture of relevant and irrelevant calls. As with any missing person enquiry, there were several calls from worried family members who had lost loved ones without a trace over the past months and years. Each call would need to be logged and evaluated. Many would lead the team up a blind alley.

  Due to the nature of the cases involved, there were a higher than average number of calls from female members of the public, concerned about their own safety and welfare. Scott’s team devoted a considerable amount of time to reassure them and give them advice on personal protection and safety.

  The nature of several calls appeared promising. Two female members of the public had called to say that in recent weeks, they had been approached by what appeared to be an unlicensed minicab. Neither of the women had accepted the offer of a lift, but both had given very similar descriptions of the driver. He was a male, approximately aged thirty to forty years old, with small menacing eyes, a thin beard and flat cap driving a blue Ford.

  Scott paced around the desk as he digested the descriptions. They certainly didn’t seem to match the description of Freddie Coltrane. If anything, the descriptions seemed to suggest a disguise of some sorts. He had lost count of the number of times suspects had used a disguise to hide their real identity.

  Nevertheless, this new information was added to the incident board, and local uniformed officers would be sent to take more detailed statements. If there was one certainty, every phone call needed to be evaluated for its importance. It would be nothing short of a catastrophic disaster if they overlooked a call, only to find that they could have nailed a killer sooner.

  The online portals for the local and national press organisations had been swift to broadcast as they put it, ‘FRENZIED ATTA
CKS ON LONE FEMALES BY SICK SERIAL KILLER.’ The article hadn’t gone down well with Scott or the press team. He knew from experience, that the press had a way of twisting information to attract their readership.

  First thing that morning, Scott had instructed SCAS to look into the links between the Essex and Sussex cases. SCAS was part of the National Crime Agency that dealt with organised and serious crime. The Serious Crime Analysis Section investigated cases such as the potential emergence of serial killers and serial rapists at the earliest stage of their offending.

  They held a national database of serious sexual offences committed in the UK and would help Scott and team to identify other similar cases across the UK.

  SCAS moved quickly and had already identified potential similarities with other cases over the past ten years that had been collated on ViCLAS, their Violent Crime Linkage Analysis System.

  The printer rumbled into life, a warm heat emanated from the sides as the cooling fans kicked in. Scott had waited close by after SCAS had called him to confirm that they were sending over their latest report.

  Why is it that when I want something urgently from the printer, it seems to sense my urgency and deliberately slows down each sheet of paper as it comes through the feed? Scott pondered. “Come on, come on,” he mumbled.

  He thumbed through the warm sheets of paper and quickly scanned the main point. Once there was a suitable pause in the phone calls, Scott rallied the team together.

  “Okay, team. SCAS has come through with some critical pieces of information. So far, they’ve identified three women in recent years who have been murdered in exactly the same way, and a fourth potential victim. The first victim was a lone twenty-five-year-old female in Colchester. The second victim was a single mum of one, who was killed in Harlow. Finally, they also identified the case of a twenty-year-old female student in Paisley in Scotland who was stabbed, raped and then killed in exactly the same way.”