“When?”, she asked the doctor as he checked the chart at the bottom of the bed, before shining a small torch into unresponsive eyes.
“Nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” he said, clicking his pen before writing some final notes.
After he left, Yvonne took Michelle’s hand for one last time.
“I’ll find him,” she said softly. “He will pay. I promise.”
86
She took a deep breath, smoothed her suit. Her rap on the door sounded confident. The rap of her heart didn’t.
“Come in.”
Was that an irate come in, or an impatient come in? It hadn’t sounded like either. She smoothed her suit again and opened the door.
“Ah, Yvonne. The very person.”
Hadn’t she just been summoned?
“Please sit down.”
He was being reasonable. She was uncomfortable with reasonable.
“Yvonne, I hear that you discovered the father of Emma Shilton’s baby. Well done.”
Definitely not comfortable now.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Good piece of detective work.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Just a couple of small problems.”
Here we go.
“Exhumation cost thousands of pounds.”
“Yes, sir, I know.”
“Exhumation was distressing for relatives.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Father arrested.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Father no longer a suspect.”
“No, sir.”
“Father of baby not relevant to murder case.”
Deep breath and hold.
“What the bloody hell is going on?”
That was more like it.
“Sir, I’m sorry.”
“Well that makes it alright then.”
“Sir, this murder is linked to the recent murders. We know that from the tow rope.”
“I know, you told me that before.”
“It’s also highlighted some interesting new facts which may eventually shed light on this whole thing.”
She was winging it now, desperation setting in.
“What facts?”
“There were bones missing from the foetus.”
“Bones missing from the foetus.” Peterson rolled his eyes and stared at her for several seconds. “Yvonne, when was the last time you had a holiday?”
Oh bugger. “Easter,sir.”
“Easter, right. About time you had another one don’t you think?”
“Well I…”
“Yvonne, you’re one of my best and brightest detectives - hard working and thorough. I admire you. I really do, but you’re losing your way with this one. I think a break will help you get things in perspective.”
It wasn’t what she wanted to hear.
“Mike can take over for you, while you’re away.”
“But, sir I…”
“It’s not up for negotiation.”
Yvonne left Peterson’s office dejected. She didn’t want a break and she knew they were getting closer to finding the killer. It wasn’t much but they were definitely closer. The last thing she wanted was to hand the reins to someone else, no matter how brief the duration.
Tasha found her staring out of the office window, a paper cup of tepid coffee in her hands, gazing at the lights of the passing traffic without really seeing them. She watched her for a moment taking in the fixed stare and the way the light cast deep shadows on the side of her face and in the hollow at the base of neck.
Yvonne was oblivious to her presence, as she watched the new shift shoving their bags and helmets into the cars and vans parked outside. The outgoing shift piled into the station, carrying equipment and bags of chips, or else already unclipping the used batteries of the backs of their radios.
“There was a scuffle in town.” Tasha said in a light tone, unsure if she should intrude on the moment.
“Oh?”
“Couple of officers injured.”
“Badly?”
“No, just bruises… could’ve been worse.”
A panda was driven sharply into the yard. The officers climbed out and pulled out a hulk in handcuffs. He was coughing and spluttering, his face wet. They left the car with the boot up and the doors open.
“They had to use CS then…”
“Yes. Are you Okay, Yvonne?”
“I’m fine.” Finally the DI moved away from the window and turned to face Tasha, noting the concern on her face.
“Tasha, I’m going to take a couple of weeks off.”
“What, now?”
“Peterson thinks it’s for the best.”
“But…”
“It’s Okay, I’m not going anywhere. Just taking a rest at home.” A part of her thought Peterson was right. She had been letting this case get to her. Allowing it to drive her a little crazy.
“Yes, I guess it’ll do you good.” Tasha was surprised at how disappointed she'd felt, when she had thought the DI might be going away, and how relieved she felt now that the DI would still be around.
“Who’s looking after the case?” She asked lightly.
“Mike.”
“Right.”
“Will you keep me abreast of what’s happening?”
“Sure. I’ll fill you in every evening.” Tasha said and then couldn’t resist a smile at her own unintentional innuendo.
Yvonne rolled her eyes and smiled in spite of herself. “What are you like?”
87
When Emma came to, it took her several minutes to fully grasp where she was and what was happening to her. Her throat was still painful, from when he had virtually choked the life from her. She'd been sure she was going to die, Waking up was therefore both surprising and confusing.
She was naked and tied with thick rope to the legs of a large table. She lay prone, bound at her wrists and ankles. She could not look immediately above her as several powerful study lamps were aimed down at her face and body. At least, she thought, she felt warm now – maybe even hot – as the heat from the bulbs rained down on her.
She could hear him but could not see him, being able to see only herself, the table and the lights. All else in the room appeared a thick black. She didn't know where she was.
She heard him approach, his heels clicking a confident rap on the floor. He loomed in from the shadows, a dark smile curling his lips. He ran his hand once more around her tummy, his thumb brushing the top of her pubic hair. It made her spasm involuntarily.
“Boy or a girl, I wonder?” He asked, his voice thick and deep.
A strangled sob escaped her lips as her chest heaved up and down with fear and the effort she was now expending trying to break free from the rope. She could feel the sweat on the small of her back.
“Why are you doing this?” She managed to say.
“Do you know anything about anatomy, Emma?”
She was confused. “No, what do you mean?”
He slammed a large tome down on the table between her legs.
“Neither do I. We’ll learn together shall we?”
“Please…” She pleaded, not knowing what his exact intention was, but fearing that he was going to penetrate her with something.
It was then that she saw the knife, as it flashed out from behind him. Its blade glinted menacingly in the harsh glare of the lights. Her body shivered uncontrollably.
He walked around the table to her head and mopped her brow gently with his hand. Then he ran the knife down the end of her nose, over her cheeks and along her neck but made no attempt at this stage to cut her. The table was shaking with her efforts to break free.
“Lie still,” he commanded. “Slaves do what their masters tell them to and you will be no exception.”
“I’m not your slave,” she managed through clenched teeth. “What is wrong? What’s happened to you?”
He ran the blade on down between her breasts and over her stomach.
“Oh God no
…” she uttered, as she panicked that he was about to penetrate her with the blade. But he didn’t. He lifted the knife away from her.
“Boy or a girl?” he asked again.
“I don’t know.”
“I want you to take a guess.”
“Why?” she asked, “how would I know until it’s born?”
“Exactly,” the words dripped with menace, “guess we’re just going to have to find out.”
She screamed now, a desperate animal sound which even she hadn't thought herself capable of. His hand covered her mouth and nose until she stopped to gasp for breath. As the blade stung its way into the flesh of her stomach, and to his bitter disappointment, she passed into blissful unconsciousness.
Yvonne cursed, and not for the first time that evening. She threw down the mouse and pushed her chair back from the PC. The jolt dislodged some coke from her can on the desk, and it sat hissing in a pool around the base. Tabitha watched it, rapt.
“Sugar!” The DI ran a hand through her tangled hair and passed through the lounge to the dining room’s double doors and out into the cold night, just to cool off. Her neighbour was out placing the rubbish bags into a wheelie bin, taking the lid off the paper recycle bin ready for the morning’s collection.
“It’s perky tonight,” he called to her, as she looked up to contemplate the stars.
“Yes Geoff it is. Soon be Christmas…”
“Oh don’t,” he chuckled. “I might as well drill a hole in my wallet now.”
Yvonne laughed as she plunged her hands deep into her jeans pockets. Geoff and his wife had four children, all girls, under the age of twelve and he just wasn't able to say no to them.
“Geoff, have you tried logging onto the internet tonight?”
“No, why?”
“Oh, I just can’t log on. It keeps saying the line is busy.”
“Probably all those early Xmas shoppers.”
“Yeah, I suspect you’re right. Never mind I’ll try again later.”
A shooting star made its fleeting journey through the belt of Orion. In Roman times this might be considered a portent she mused and considered a moment over whether they would have thought it a good or a bad omen. She shrugged her shoulders and headed back inside , acquiring a dishcloth en-route to mop up the coke.
With a heartfelt sigh squeezing the air from her lungs, she sat back down to repeat the mechanics of opening explorer and entering the password for the phone line connection.
“Should have gone broadband when you had the chance.”
Yvonne half jumped, half swung round in her seat.
“Tasha,” she said, hand to chest. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I followed you in.” Tasha grinned. “You left the door open. Tut tut. What if I'd been a burglar or a murderer?” She drew her finger across her throat.
“Oh stop it. You’re just a big kid.” Yvonne turned back to her computer, adding: “and you’re always making me jump.”
“Am I indeed?” Tasha said slowly, raising a provocative eyebrow, hands on her hips.
“You know what I mean.”
Yvonne was busy tapping the keys, “Yes, I’m in. Finally…” She slapped the desk in triumph.
“Yvonne, you’re supposed to be on leave.”
“I know, but what would you do in my shoes?”
“Sit back and take a well-deserved rest? Brian’s heading a team carrying out ops on as many internet cafes as they can. They’re having to rotate though because there are just too many to stake out properly.”
“I don’t really hold out much hope for that approach. How will they know if he’s online? And how on earth did they get Peterson to agree those sorts of resources?”
“They’ve got IT monitoring the chatrooms and they’ve got a sleeper in there.”
“A sleeper?”
“Yeah. Apparently they just sit in the room and watch the conversation.”
“He’ll smell a rat…”
“Lady Firebird is telling everyone in the room that the sleeper is a second personality of hers which she has opened to guard against the room closing.”
“Well, I guess it’s worth a try.”
Tasha peered over the DI’s shoulder at the monitor as she clicked through the initial screens to access the chatroom.
“Tasha, do IT know my chat name?”
“No, I don’t think so. I didn’t tell them.”
“Good. Don’t”
Lady Firebird: Welcome dahlia it is good to see you
dahlia: and You Mistress Firebird
Master SlaveStalker: delighted to see you dahlia
dahlia: and you Master <
They proceeded to discuss the day’s goings on in their imaginary ‘City’, and dahlia was greeted by half a dozen others in the room. The DI was watching for the sleeper, terrified that he or she would give the game away. She soon worked out that the sleeper was a ‘Mistress Siren’ who was permanently on a coffee break according to her symbol.
The Master began to whisper to her. This both excited and terrified the DI, because it was the route to the man she believed to be the Shotover Sadist. It could also be the route to losing him again if she made the slightest slip.
Master SlaveStalker: dahlia you are greatly pleasing to me tonight but your visits have been infrequent of late
dahlia: this one must apologise Master as this one finds it hard to gain access to the family computer.
Master SlaveStalker: Perhaps one day soon you might come and meet me in person. What do you think of that sweet slave?
dahlia: this one feels humbled that you should ask her Master.
Master SlaveStalker: I love that in you sweet dahlia ahh subservience so becomes you.
Yvonne had been keeping an eye on the main screen and suddenly Lady Firebird disappeared. One of the other chatters in the room remarked that this had happened earlier and that she had probably been booted due to her PC crashing. As the DI had feared, someone else was also quick off the mark in pointing out that Mistress Siren was still there.
“Blast,” Yvonne said out loud.
“What is it?” Tasha asked. She had been struggling to keep up with what was happening on the screen.
dahlia: Master…
dahlia: Master?
Master Slave Stalker has left the conversation.
“No!”
“What?”
“He’s gone. I think he got the willies over the sleeper.”
“That won’t be enough time for the obs team.”
“Or for me. He was about to set up a meet.”
“I hope you know what you are doing, Yvonne.”
“I do. Trust me.”
Tasha withdrew from her standing position just behind the DI. Being this close to her was making the psychologist decidedly edgy. “Care for a drink?” she asked, more nonchalantly than she felt.
“I wouldn’t mind a brandy if you’re offering.”
Tasha walked to the drinks cabinet and took out two glasses.
“So what happened at the office, today?” Yvonne asked, aware that something was not quite right with Tasha but not recognising that she might be at the root of it.
“Mike and Brian were asking my thoughts about the Sadist’s letters.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That, if he’s holding another girl, then he plans to keep her alive, at least for the time being.”
“I hope you’re right, Tasha, but what makes you say that?”
“He’s drafted a makeshift contract. Even if that was only for our benefit, it wouldn’t make sense unless he wanted to use her against us - to taunt us.”
“Is there any information yet about her? Has she been identified?”
“No. Not yet. Yvonne you’ve only been on leave a couple of days. They’re still following up missing person reports. I’ll let you know as soon as I know anything more. Here.” Tasha held out the glass, which Yvonne gratefully accepted. �
��We have an unfinished conversation.” Tasha knelt down next to the hearth and began rolling up newspaper and placing it in the grate of the large, stone fireplace. The DI had long since forgotten about the fire. It had spat its last flames hours ago and the room had cooled several degrees.
“Look Tasha, I told you I’m straight.”
“No.” Tasha’s tone was sharp. Too sharp. “I didn’t mean that…” she added in a softer voice, “there are things troubling you – more than just this case. I want to share them, if you’ll let me.” She placed several logs from the iron scuttle onto the paper and two small fire-lighters, which she lit with a match.
Within ten minutes the fire had taken, the orange flames beginning to warm the room nicely.
“I can’t.” The DI looked away towards the window.
”Please try.”
“I was married.”
“Go on…”
“His name was David. David Giles. We met when we were both studying Zoology together at Canterbury. We married in the spring following our graduation.”
“What happened?”
“We honeymooned in Paris. Dined on fresh lobster on the Mont Martre. Had our portraits painted by street artists for one hundred Francs apiece.”
“You know what I mean. What happened? You’re no longer together. The panic attacks.”
“Do you want me to tell this story?”
“Sorry…”
“He was a pilot. Light aircraft, gliders, that sort of thing. He was a real charmer. Handsome and wild. I could never be angry with him for long. That sounds like a cliché doesn’t it? But there was always excitement around him. I can honestly say that I never knew what was going to happen next. And that’s just it, he could make things happen. If a venture was risky and there was only a slim chance it would work out, I always had every faith when David was in charge. I knew it would be okay.”
“That’s quite a talent.” In spite of herself, Tasha felt envy towards this man that she'd never even met. Envy and a grudging admiration.
“Yes I know. I was crazy about him. I looked up to him. How many people can we honestly say that about? That we respect absolutely and trust implicitly.” Yvonne slowly rose to her feet. “Come on, I want to show you something.”
DI Giles BoxSet Page 17
