♦♦♦
We arrived at the Delia Miring Center. The grounds were pleasantly serene. Two wrought iron gates, covered with a metal mesh, and painted smokey blue, led us into the hospital ground. There was a narrow pathway with a hedgerow to the right side, edged with a flower border and filled with ornamental grasses and agapanthus. To the left, tall shrubs and a maple tree behind them. Ahead a wooden pergola, covered with clematis and through it, the main entrance to the building.
The reception area was far from having a homely feeling. A large pillar acting as a water feature had been constructed to the right of the room. The bottom was surrounded with a wooden feature, filled with dark gray pebbles catching the water as it flowed down. There was a seating area over by the back wall, just basic metal framed chairs with a yellow and gray stripped pattern. The walls had been painted in soft lemon on the upper half and biscuit on the lower portion. It was a basic layout with a sanitary image.
“Hello, can I be of assistance to you, ladies?” a Japanese woman asked as she emerged from behind a partitioning wall.
“Agent Bleu and agent Swanson,” I flashed my ID in her face, she smiled.
“I am Eimi. And would you be here for our special case, the girl who was found?” she asked.
“Yes. Can you take us straight to her please?” Emily pressed her.
She led us through the center and almost immediately, she felt the need to give us background information on the premises as if we were on a tour for potential business.
“We have 54 beds and semi private rooms with a bath. The center offers therapeutic recreation and conditioning. We offer patients and their families, mental health services in order to give the patient better care,” she continued to inform us.
We walked through to the back of the center. A long corridor, basic in appearance, with beige walls, beige floor tiles and cheap imitation paintings hanging in between each doorway. This place would send me crazy if I had to work here, let alone reside in it.
“So here we are. Dr. Reeves is with her now, so I will just go in and ask her if she is allowed any visitors,” she said. She knocked on the door lightly and stepped inside the room.
We waited for half a minute before she came back to us and invited us inside.
“Dr. Reeves, agent Bleu, and agent Swanson,” I informed her. “We’re investigating the girl who’s now under you care.”
“Oh you mean, Iris.”
“We’ve named her that ourselves. Apart from it now being spring, it’s also a mythical legend, the Greek goddess of the rainbow and messenger of the gods,” Eimi proclaimed.
“Thank you, Eimi, you can leave us now,” Dr. Reeves told her.
The room was simple. A bed with plain white sheets and a pale blue throw folded at the foot of it. The curtains, cream damask, the walls, biscuit. It was clinical and served its purpose.
A young woman sat silently in a wooden chair with her back to us. She was staring out of the window. Her bare feet were tucked up on to the seat and her arms hugging her legs. Her hair had been shaved off revealing a recent cigarette burn on the back of her neck.
“As you can see, we had to shave her hair off. It was in such a dire condition, that it was a simpler solution to remove it. And yes, she has cigarette burns all over her body. She hasn’t spoken a word since she came here and so far she has shown little to no response when we’ve spoken to her. She has remained silent and unemotional,” Dr. Reeves stated.
“Yes we’ve read through her case file,” I answered her. “Do you mind if I try to talk to her?”
“Not at all, but I’m sure that she won’t respond.” The Dr. stood to the side of the room, remaining in the background to observe any activity.
I casually walked over to the window, keeping my back to her, I looked out to a view of green grass with daffodils surrounding its border and a white stone wall covered with creeping ivy. There wasn’t much else to look at apart from the light blue sky filled with wispy white clouds and two song sparrows perched in the maple tree.
I chose to ignore her for a while, I knew that she had been bombarded with strange people shoving their faces close up to hers and asking her questions, questions that were impossible for her to answer. I stared out of the window for a while longer, watching the song birds flit from branch to branch. Emily waited by the door and the Dr just waited for me to begin my enquiry.
I turned around slowly, taking my first look at her face. She looked detached from her surroundings. Her bony structure dominated her appearance, giving the illusion that she may break in half with the slightest touch. Even though she wasn’t looking up at me, I could tell that her eyes were green and her lashes long.
She wasn’t ready to talk. Whatever distraught memories she held inside her mind, might have been so traumatic that she may never speak again.
Deciding that we weren’t going to get anywhere with her today, I chose to leave questioning her for another day. Moving away from the window gradually, I began to walk past the victim. As I came close to her side she suddenly grabbed at my hand and held it tightly. It took me by surprise and I was unsure why she had chosen to reach out to me, but it felt almost as if she trusted me. I gently rubbed my thumb over the back of her hand and she reacted by squeezing mine tighter. Her position remained unchanged and she carried staring at the same space that her eyes had been focused on the entire time that we were there.
I knelt down beside her and whispered into her ear. “I will do my best to save you from this hell that you are going through. If you can understand what I am saying, you’ll know that we share similarities.”
The reason for me joining the agency had been a decision I made years ago due to unimaginable circumstances. My childhood had not been that of a happy one. My uncle had taken it upon himself to, ‘show me how grownups act,’ as he put it. It went on for three years before he finally left me alone. The only reason he did that was because his job relocated him, leaving me to deal with my own demons. But it wasn’t long before I told my mother what he’d been up to behind her back, offering to babysit me whilst she was at work. She felt helpless and sickened and blamed herself every day for his sick acts until the day she died. I had made a promise to her on her death bed that I would find a way to protect other children and young women from the hands of brutal monsters.
Iris turned her head to face me, acknowledging my words. Her eyes lifted and stared into mine. A tear began to form in her left eye and she then pulled my hand to her mouth and kissed it gently. She then moved it to the neckline of her t-shirt and dragged the material down a few inches, revealing more scars on her body. She had been burned by cigarette butts over her chest area and a two inch scar just above her right breast looked as though it had been there for quite some time. Her records had also mentioned that her body was covered in insect bites, evidence that she had been outdoors for quite a period of time, but those marks were no longer visible.
A whimper left her mouth, it sounded almost like a petrified puppy.
“I wish you could tell me,” I whispered.
“You are the first person that she has acknowledged since she’s been here,” Dr. Reeves commented. She went to step towards us, but I quickly dismissed her. This girl was putting her trust in me and I had to respect that.
I stared deeper into her eyes. The sadness within them held the secret key to her life story. The corner of her mouth curled upwards, creating a slight smile and maybe even a little hope that she might say something, but then she dropped my hand and turned her head away to face the window once again.
Although she was now in the hands of a safe haven she was also still reliving the hellish nightmare that she had been dealt. I wanted to make that nightmare go away.
Our visit was done. Standing over her, I placed my hand on her shoulder, just for a second.
“We’re done here,” Emily told the doctor.
We were escorted out into the hallway and Dr. Reeves told me that maybe if I came back in the near f
uture for another visit, it could be possible that Iris might be more than willing to open up to me.
The connection I’d felt with her was real. I had experienced her emotions, her pain and her trauma. Even though she had chosen not to converse, I’d heard everything that I needed to.
“Where to next?” Emily asked me as she opened the passenger side door to my car.
“Church Street. We need to examine the property,” I replied, eager to get over to the house.
Chapter Four
It was now midday. The hot sun didn’t disappoint with its soaring temperature, and the streets offered very little in the way of shade. Thank god for air conditioning and bottled water.
The roads were filled with the usual shit drivers, everyone thinking that they have the unwritten right of way or that the driver ahead of them was a useless piece of crap and should never have been given a license. Never was there a day when helicopters didn’t scour the streets from above, searching for the latest car thief or house burglar, who in their own stupid minds, thought that they could outrun this piece of machinery. It was a daily occurrence that the public were becoming conditioned to.
“Look at this asshole who’s just about to pass us,” I said to Emily, watching a black Ford Thunderbird drive so close to my trunk, that I couldn’t even see his headlights anymore. He pulled out into the next lane and sped past us.
“I wonder how long it’ll take before he becomes a statistic,” Emily said, flipping him the bird as he drove off.
♦♦♦
We pulled into the driveway of the house in Church Street and as soon as we got out of the car, a man approached us from behind. He was the neighbor who had discovered Iris. Rodney Brown.
“Hey, you! You can’t go in there,” he shouted at us.
“And who’s telling us that we can’t?” I asked him firmly. He was a small fat bellied man wearing a mustard yellow button up shirt, a pair of khaki shorts and brown leather open toe sandals. His hair, what little there was of it, gave his age away. He had dyed it black but the gray roots were showing through, so in my opinion, it made him to be around his early 70’s.
“Rodney Brown, that’s who, and who might you be?” he asked.
We showed him our badges. He took two steps back, realizing that he was the one who was overstepping the boundaries.
“So you’re the neighbor who called it in.” Emily said to him.
“Yes. I heard what I thought was a coyote howling. It went on for hours and to be honest it was becoming a bit of a nuisance, so I went down to the end of my property, I have a small pistol, so I took that with me just in case. I was horrified when I saw the girl tied up with rope just like a feral dog. I shouted out to her but she didn’t answer, she just kept howling. I had my phone on me so I called 911 immediately. Is she alright?” he asked.
“Did you know that Iris was here, living on this property, before you found her outside?” I asked him.
“No. I never saw her before that day. I had no idea that James had anyone living in the house.”
“So do you know James Speight well? I asked him.
“Well enough to know that he kept himself to himself. He never had any visitors of any kind and he hardly ever went anywhere after Kathleen, that’s his mother, passed away, not even to work. He used to be a freelance photographer. But if ever I went away on vacation, he would always keep watch over my house. He offered to do that, I never asked him to.”
“Do you know where he is now?” I asked.
“No, he’s not been around here for weeks. The last time that I saw him, he was…oh my god. He must have been going to see to the girl. I saw him headed off down to the shed. I never thought anything of it at the time.”
“You weren’t to know,” Emily remarked sympathetically.
We advised him to go back inside his house and told him that we would call on him if we needed any further assistance.
We walked around the outside of the house. It had two levels, painted white, and three garages. One of the outer walls was in dire need of repair, damp had set in and a green mildew was growing half way up it. The driveway had many cracks and areas of tree roots lifting the tarmac. The yard area was surrounded by thick bushes, trees and a 6ft high brick wall that blocked the neighbor’s visibility.
The shed that Iris had been found in, had been erected at the end of the grounds. It was a basic shed, 8ft by 6ft in size. Surrounded by fruit trees and the roof covered in the same green mildew, the space itself was practically empty of any contents. There was an old red rug on the floor, a blanket in a crumpled heap in the corner and the rope was still attached to the side of the structure. There was a strong smell of urine and feces around the vicinity of the door and two empty dog dishes that had been turned over in the dirt, probably by the wildlife.
“He kept her prisoner here. God only knows how long that she’d been at his mercy,” Emily said.
“Either she’s been here a very long time or he’s had others and god only knows what’s happened to them.” The evidence was overwhelming by the state of the place.
We moved inside the house. It was huge. There were four fireplaces, a living room, a family room, a grand entrance hallway featuring a large staircase that led up to five bedrooms and four bathrooms. The kitchen was enormous, with an island sink unit and patio doors looking out directly at the fruit trees and shed. He was able to watch her from almost every room in the house.
A framed photograph of James Speight hung above the fireplace in the living room. I threw it down on the floor and trampled on it, crushing the glass. I picked up the picture from the mess, being careful not cut my fingers on the glass splinters. James Speight was a man easily recognizable. His graying hair was cut neat and tidy, rimless glasses covered his light blue eyes and brown eyebrows. A half smile with two smile lines to the left side of his mouth. He wore a pale blue button up shirt and held an appearance of normality. It was a look that I’d seen many times before, a look of evil behind an innocent portrayal.
We went down into the basement. It smelt damp and cold air breezed through the dark rooms. Small windows just above the ground level hardly allowed any light to filtrate the space. There was a door at the end of the room. I opened it, to find an area that sickened me. This is where he had kept her and tortured her for his own sick pleasure. There was no window, just a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The walls were painted black and on the far wall of the 100sqft space, a shrine of photographs had been placed in an orderly fashion. He had placed them as though each one represented her growing up through his own sick mind thoughts. Some were of her sitting with her legs crossed and the palms of her hands flat out on the floor in front of her. She was hardly wearing anything in any of the pictures, a bikini top and a pair of panties seemed to dominate his choice. I looked at them closely. Marks on her body showed that he’d been beating her throughout the years of her captivity.
“This bastard is going to pay for what he did to Iris,” I said to Emily, gritting my teeth.
“Shit first day back for you, isn’t it,” she replied.
Chapter Five
I drove into my cul-de-sac and then turned into my driveway. Today had been stressful and depressing. Iris was on my mind constantly. I felt sick in the pit of my stomach, the thought of that poor girl treated no better than a rabid animal, and for how long? It was hard to keep myself from crying.
I remembered that there was a packet of cigarettes still in the glove box. They’d been in there since the shooting. Grabbing the pack, I tapped on the bottom of it until one finally slipped out. It had been months since I had smoked one of these cancer sticks but today just gave me every reason to start up again. I placed the white paper stick between my lips. It took me two seconds to realize that I had no lighter. Just what the fuck was I thinking? I crumpled it up in the palm of my hand and then with the rest of the pack, I threw into the garbage bin by the back gate.
Walking around to the front door I suddenly heard a s
cream coming from inside the house. Unsure why this had happened, I drew my gun from my holster and held it out in front of me in my right hand whilst trying to unlock the door with my left hand. I opened it quietly. A second scream sounded, confirming that Kate was in distress. I kept my back to the wall and gradually moved into the living room. There were no signs of a break in. I moved in further, making my way toward the kitchen, keeping my gun firmly in front of me. The kitchen doorway was in my sight but I still couldn’t see any signs of a struggle, or Kate.
“Leave me alone, you fucking monster,” Kate shouted out.
I stepped over to the door and waited. I could see a shadow on the wall ahead of me. There was only one person as far as I could tell.
“Arrh, why did you have to come here?” she cried out.
“Kate, are you alright?” I called out as I swung around into the kitchen.
“No. No I’m not. Just take a look at what came in here and trapped me in my own bloody house,” she yelled. She pointed down toward the bottom of the cupboard where she was standing.
“Are you fucking serious? A lizard, you were screaming at a lizard, making me think that there was an intruder in our house.”
I picked it up by its tail and opened the back door. As I put it down on the grass, Kate shouted from behind me to make sure that I took it far away from the house. I ignored her request. The lizard was fine where it was.
I went back inside the house. Kate had cooked a concoction of chicken and red wine and placed it in the oven to warm up.
“So how was your first day back?” she asked.
I stood for a moment as every little detail filtered through my brain. Iris, the hospital, the house, and the shed, everything that I had felt today had been based around emotional turmoil.
Case 321 Page 2
