Captive

by Jay Nadal

  And yet Simon had his arm around her, cupping her breast, he was curled into her back, their knees tucked into one another. Her back tickled from his hairy chest as the warmth from his breath rushed past her ear. His erect penis nestled against her arse cheeks, gently pushing rhythmically against her. Her eyes closed for a brief sensual moment as she welcomed Simon’s closeness.

  Chest! Hairy chest!

  Her eyes sprung open, wide with terror and confusion.

  Simon doesn’t have a hairy chest!

  Her body froze. Perhaps this was a dreadful, freaky dream. Her eyes tried hard to adjust to the darkened room; they darted left to right, desperate to focus on something familiar.

  She flinched as the voice behind her groaned. Alexis tried to move her arms but something stopped her. Her palms were pressed firmly together, her wrists burnt the harder she tried to move them.

  A deep laugh rocked her ears. “Hello there, beautiful,” came the voice from behind her.

  With every ounce of energy she could draw upon, she thrashed out and tried to scream, but her lips wouldn’t move. Something pressed on them.

  Everything spun into a dark blur as she was flipped onto her back, as a heavy pressure bore down on her throat.

  The man laughed as he straddled her. Her legs flailed behind him in a fruitless attempt to free herself, but his hand pressed harder. Her eyes bulged as her pulse throbbed in her temples. White spots started to cloud her vision. She had little fight in her as he tried to enter her. He used his knees to force her thighs apart.

  A sharp pain tore through her lips as the tape was ripped away taking shreds of skin with it. She inhaled lungfuls of air as she fought to stay conscious, but time was fast running out for her as she frantically thrashed her head from side to side.

  His tongue searched the inside of her mouth, the acrid smell of his breath made her heave. She needed to escape. She needed help now. From somewhere inside a piercing shrill erupted, followed by another which was swiftly extinguished as he slapped her with a backhand.

  This wasn’t working out the way he’d hoped. The lube sat untouched by the side. He hadn’t had the time to film anything. He’d screwed up by taking the tape off her mouth. Now others were banging on the door, a mixture of curiosity and concern from voices on the other side.

  He needed her now. She wasn’t going to ruin it for him, and neither were the do-gooders in the corridor. His mind raced with a heady concoction of fear, excitement and possessiveness. The more he attempted to push into her, the more desperate he became.

  “Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he yelled as he slapped her once again.

  By now the commotion in the corridor had reached fever pitch. Gentle shoves against the door were replaced with more forceful attempts as the door rocked in its frame and threatened to fall in at any moment.

  He leant in and bit her hard on the shoulder. Red globules of blood erupted to the surface that only served to excite him further. Alexis screamed as a sharp pain raced through her body.

  The door gave way as two men shoulder-charged it one final time. It thundered to the floor, throwing up a cloud of dust.

  A wave of people flooded in. Some pulled the man off and pinned him to the floor, and others tended to Alexis, her eyes fixed wide open in abject fear. They ushered her away wrapped in a duvet as they tried to calm her hysterical screams.

  Anger flooded through his body as he lay face down, a knee in his back firmly pinned him to the spot.

  He hated failure.

  44

  Scott’s life had taken many wrong turns from the path he’d chosen. Tragedy, sadness, frustration and anger were all assessments that he could use to describe how he had felt at various points in recent years. He was a proud and strong person, with a methodical work ethic and strong principles about the desire to treat people with compassion and fairness.

  The events of recent weeks had pushed his resolve, character and mental strength to the breaking point. On occasion, he’d reflected that the highs and lows he felt were a consequence of not dealing with things the way he should have. As a result, they had finally erupted to the surface and affected his ability to think clearly and make rational decisions. Am I thinking clearly? Am I losing my grip? They were questions that he asked himself daily. What worried him more, was the risk of Meadows referring him for a psychological assessment and counselling. Such a course of action would leave a stain on his record and no doubt affect his chances of promotion.

  Scott sat parked across the street. The darkness of the night reflected his mood. Things weren’t working out the way he’d planned. The cases bothered him. The search for the marine engineering businesses had come up empty. With no evidence, no suspects and no clues other than the victims were being targeted because they were redheads, the cases were spinning on the spot.

  He glanced down as he repeatedly wrapped and unwrapped a scrap of paper around his finger. It had the address of Langfords Hotel in Hove written on it, the place he found himself outside now.

  Nerves prickled his skin. He struggled to regulate his breathing as pressure bore down on his chest like a pneumatic drill. His mind fought to latch onto any thought of value. He was angry, angry with himself for getting into this mess again. Why? Why? Why? He questioned.

  Thirty minutes had passed and yet he was firmly paralysed to the spot. Who would believe me? Who would believe me after everything that’s happened? They’d say I was ill, suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, or it was unresolved grief that clouded my judgement and led to irrational thoughts and behaviours. He’d seen it on many occasions, officers drummed out of the force because of stress, or PTSD. Rather than support them, it was far more cost-effective to wash their hands of them.

  Berry was in there now waiting for him. Abby’s description of a black widow was apt if nothing else. She was waiting for her prey. If he went in there, he may as well erase the past few years.

  He battled with his conscience. His career meant the world to him, giving into Berry’s demands would save his career, but it would come at a hefty price, his soul and his morals. Will giving into Berry’s demands open a door that I will never be able to close? Will it mean that she has something on me that she could call in at some point in the future? The questions raced through his mind.

  His relationship with Cara was new and exciting. It was the first time in several years that he’d felt whole again. She had breathed new energy into his life. She had been there to listen, to understand, to support and lift him in his darkest hours. What will stop Berry from telling Cara one day and twisting the truth?

  As if Cara had some form of telepathic link with him, his phone beeped as the screen illuminated the darkness of his car. There was no message, just a simple heart emoji.

  Scott could feel the emotion threatening to overwhelm him. His eyes misted as he fought to make sense of the impossible situation that he found himself in. He stared off into the distance, numb and tired. Whichever decision he took, he ran the risk of changing his life once again.

  Time seemed to stand still as a cold shiver raced through his body.

  Scott pulled out his car keys.

  45

  Silence surrounded him. He was lost in his own thoughts as he struggled to clear his mind. Tiredness robbed him of all energy this morning. Only a few hours’ sleep last night, and the second cup of strong coffee had done little to jolt him back into some form of normality. He gazed into the blackness at the bottom of his cup, his mind shredded, the knot in the pit of his stomach growing as the minutes ticked on.

  “Morning!” A bright and cheerful voice came out of nowhere.

  Scott could barely look up and muster a smile, as he saw Abby bounce into his office, with a spring in a step.

  “You’re far too bright and cheerful at this time of the morning. That can only mean one thing,” he groaned. “You slept out again last night?”

  Abby tapped the side of her nose. “That would be for me to know, and for you to fin
d out detective.”

  Scott would normally have a rebuke already lined up, but all he could offer was a friendly, “Huh.”

  Abby dropped her head to one side. “You okay? You don’t seem yourself. Don’t tell me, last night was the first night you and Cara didn’t have sex. And now you’re worried that it’s all downhill from now on,” Abby said, continuing to tease as she moved her hand in a horizontal direction to insinuate a slide.

  “No, I’m fine, just very tired. It was just one of those nights when I couldn’t sleep.”

  Abby wasn’t convinced by Scott’s explanation but decided against probing further for the time being. “Well, it’s good news about Freddie Coltrane being in the cells. It looks like he was caught in the act last night. It will be interesting to see how he talks his way out of this one.”

  Scott nodded in agreement. At this precise moment he just wanted to be left alone. He needed to find some strength to carry on as normal. Abby had suggested that she treat him to breakfast, which he kindly declined, suggesting a rain check. That in itself alarmed Abby. She had never known Scott to turn down an opportunity for breakfast, especially when she offered to pay. He’d often remarked that she had a combination lock on her purse because she rarely seemed to open it or offer to pay.

  She left him in peace as she breezed out in the same enthusiastic manner that she had entered.

  Scott tipped his head back, and stared at the blank ceiling for what seemed like hours but in reality was no more than a few minutes. His eyes felt heavy enough to allow him to drift off to sleep. He said on a groan, “Jesus fucking Christ, so help me, God.”

  “You need more than God to help you out,” Berry announced as she walked in and closed the door.

  An uneasy silence chilled the room. The tension and charge in the air made it hard to breathe. Scott momentarily glanced in her direction before he leant forward and returned his gaze to the bottom of his coffee cup. He could sense her eyes just boring into the top of his head. She was known for having a cold, calculating stare which unnerved many who interacted with her.

  Berry walked around to his side of the desk and ran her fingers lightly across the breadth of his shoulders. His body stiffened to her touch. Berry leant over and came close to his right ear. “I’m disappointed in you, Scott. I thought you had so much more sense. All it’s going to take is one word from me and you’re out of here. Let’s face it, Scott. You’re becoming too hot to handle, a liability, and you’re not doing the force’s reputation much good.”

  Her voice was soft, her breath warm, as she spoke with a chilling, determined softness. “Imagine…how Meadows would react if he found out that you came on to me. And you tried to assault me when I pushed you off. They’re going to think that you’ve lost the plot. Between you and me, I don’t think they’ll give you time to clear your desk and say goodbye to your wonderful team. Incidentally, I think I’d quite enjoy having a team like that under my command.”

  Scott’s breathing was hard and laboured as he fought to stay calm. His eyelids twitched as his hands curled into fists. Scott’s whole life flashed through his mind. The people who meant so much to him; Tina, Becky, Cara and his team. Scott pushed his chair back abruptly and stood up, catching Berry off guard. They stood nose to nose, their eyes locked in their own battle of wills.

  “Do your worst DCI Berry, I’ve got a killer to catch. I’m not scared of you now. If you’re going to take me down, then you’re coming with me. And that’s a promise.”

  Berry hadn’t expected that response as Scott called her bluff. She was just about to respond when the door flew open.

  Abby raced in without looking and momentarily paused mid-step unsure about what she had just stumbled upon. The close proximity of Scott and Berry, the faces just a few inches apart, confused her. To many, it could have been two passionate lovers who were about to sneak a cheeky kiss. Abby wasn’t sure whether to retrace her steps and escape the embarrassing silence that hung in the room, or question what was going on as neither Scott nor Berry averted their gazes from one another.

  She decided to go with her third option, the original reason for entering the room in such a hurry. “Um, sorry to barge in. We’ve just had a report of a third student being abducted.”

  46

  Abby quickly made her way to the incident board to find Helen putting up the details of the latest missing person. Scott followed a few paces behind. DCI Berry followed at the rear, her arms crossed, her walk slow and measured.

  Helen turned and began to relay the details that had been passed through to her from the control room. “Sam Tearl didn’t show up for a pre-planned meeting with a friend on campus yesterday. They had agreed to meet late afternoon, between 4 p.m. and 5 p.m. By 5.30 p.m. he had sent several text messages and tried her number. She didn’t reply to either. She’s twenty years old, and as you can see from her picture,” Helen said, tapping the new image an incident board with her pen, “another redhead. The combination of the fact that she is a student from the university, and she’s a redhead, was the reason that uniform contacted us.”

  Scott studied the pictures of all three women and bit his bottom lip as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “And what was she studying?”

  “She was coming to the end of her second year in business and finance.”

  “So she wouldn’t have been in any of the other classes with Hailey or Rebecca. How did she normally get to campus?”

  Helen checked her notes. “She usually travels by bicycle. She shares a student house with several others in town. Her friend Ketan Amin became increasingly worried. When he hadn’t heard from her by 6 p.m., he decided to retrace the path she normally took just in case something had happened to her.”

  “And that’s when he called it in?” Abby asked.

  “Yes, Skip, shortly after that. They share quite a lot of mutual friends, so he called them just in case she had forgotten or had lost her phone. When no one had heard from her, he became increasingly worried. Of course, because she’s a redhead, he panicked. The poor lad is beside himself according to uniformed colleagues.”

  “Okay, team, do the usual. Build up a timeline of her movements in the hours leading up to 4 p.m. Speak to her friends, look at social media accounts, visit her digs. Look for any clues which might explain her disappearance. However, we can assume that she’s potentially fallen victim to our man. Have a look to see if any of her personal possessions are still lying around. And whilst you’re there, grab a recent picture of her and some hair fibres.” He was hoping on this occasion that they wouldn’t have to do any DNA analysis. “Okay, you crack on with it. Abby and I are going down to interview Freddie Coltrane.”

  Freddie Coltrane looked dishevelled and agitated as he sat in interview room one. As expected, Wainwright his family solicitor was present. He too looked just as uncomfortable as his client. Abby did the introductions for the tape recorder, and once again cautioned Freddie as well as confirmed the presence of Wainwright the family solicitor.

  Scott studied Freddie’s face. A combination of a lack of sleep, and what appeared to be evidence of a scuffle left him looking decidedly battered and bruised. His clothes had been removed for forensic analysis and replaced by a white paper suit which he complained was uncomfortable.

  “Freddie, it looks like things haven’t gone your way this time? Can you tell us what happened last night?”

  Freddie glanced at Wainwright, who gave him one shake of his head. “No comment,” he said in a croaky voice.

  “Did you go out with the intention to find a female that you could take back to your place and engage in sexual activity with?”

  “No comment.”

  “When you were arrested, they noticed that your pupils were dilated, and there were traces of a white substance on your table. They believed that you were in possession of a controlled substance specifically, a class A controlled drug, possibly cocaine. It is for that reason that you were required to give a sample which you consented to. They
took a saliva swab from you on the spot. The DrugWipe tested positive for cocaine. Did you give Alexis Deacon cocaine with the sole intention of leaving her incapacitated?”

  Freddie sniggered and slouched back in his chair. “No comment.”

  Scott crossed his arms and glanced at Abby for a brief moment. “Here’s my thoughts, Freddie. I think you’ve gone too far this time. Your solicitor, your parents, the vice-chancellor, in fact, no one can help you on this occasion. Alexis has pressed charges against you. She’s made an allegation that you tried to rape her. The police doctor has confirmed evidence of bruising commonly found in cases of sexual assault. She also felt very unwell and drowsy when she woke. She believes that something was put in her drink. Can you confirm this?”

  “No comment.”

  Scott leant over the table and splayed his hands out in front of him. “Freddie, you’re a sick, twisted individual, who gets his kicks from targeting women and carrying out violent sexual acts on them. What does it do for you? Does it make you feel special? Important? Or does it inflate that ego of yours even more?”

  Freddie raised his eyes to meet Scott’s. Scott had clearly touched a raw nerve as the younger man’s chest heaved.

  “I put it to you that you went out with the sole intention of targeting a lone female. You plied her with drugs so that you could take her back to your bedroom, with the intention of having non-consensual sex. Does it make you feel like a man? Because from where I’m sitting, you’re just a boy.”

  Freddie sprung to his feet as his chair flew back several feet. Taken by surprise, Wainwright practically choked on his own breath. Scott and Abby remained unfazed, fully expecting this response from Scott’s goading. “I’m…not…a…boy,” he snarled, spittle flying in all directions across the table. “She fucking deserved it. They all fucking deserved it. I just love sex. I like a certain flavour of sex.”