“No, you can’t. I appreciate what you are doing for me.”
“You’d fucking better. Is Irina in?”
“She is serving drinks. You want to see her?”
“I want to do more than that to her.”
“I will fetch her and arrange a room for you.”
“Thanks love. Relax about the Laws, we’ll fucking do them. You kept your end of the bargain and I always keep mine.”
She gave him her sweetest, most grateful smile. “I know. I will find Irina for you.”
Katia felt a little better as she made her way upstairs. Jared was right. Ryan would escape and they would kill him instead. The sounds emanating from the rooms she passed were a balm to her, each sound was money, a lot of it. Her clients were once again the best, the rooms plush and classy. Not all the rooms were finished yet but once they were the money would be rolling in. Jared had done much for her and she was grateful he was willing to do this too.
She encountered Irina coming out of one of the rooms with an empty tray. “How is Veronika getting on with her client?” said Katia.
Veronika was a tall, striking Russian who, it turned out, was very skilled at delivering punishment to those who desired it. She enjoyed her work very much, which mainly involved beating up men. Her breasts were so small they were practically non-existent but her legs were incredible and her face so delicate it looked as though the features had been crafted from porcelain. She was proving to be very popular with her more discerning clients.
“Very good. She natural,” said Irina. She looked around and lowered her voice. “The MP she have with her enjoy dressing up as woman, calling himself Samantha and being spanked by her.”
“I am not surprised. His wife looks like a man so he’s probably used to thinking of himself as the woman.”
Irina smiled cruelly.
“Jared’s here. He wants some time with you.”
“I am ready for him.”
Katia didn’t like the eagerness in her voice. Irina was the closest thing she’d ever had to a female friend. Other women had always disliked her and she’d disliked them in return but she was very fond of Irina, she relied on her. If she fell in love with Jared she didn’t know what it would mean for them. Jared wouldn’t like that, he’d might insist on getting rid of her. That was the last thing Katia wanted but if it came to the crunch she would do it to remain in Jared’s good books.
Jules frowned at the sight of Mikey at her front door again, his presence was the last thing she needed.
“Pack a bag, we’re leaving,” he said brusquely.
“Excuse me?” frowned Jules. She’d taken Cassandra’s advice and let out her grief, crying solidly for two entire hours before falling into an exhausted sleep, which had been disturbed by Mikey, not endearing him to her any.
“Ryan’s gone missing.” He was heartened by the concern in her eyes.
“What happened?”
“No one knows. He just vanished. Rachel thinks he’s been kidnapped by a serial killer.”
“What?” she exclaimed, eyes glittering with surprise and excitement.
“Men have been going missing in Devon for the last seven years. Ryan fits the victim profile.”
“A serial killer?” she murmured, feeling the grief subside a little as an exciting new project took centre stage. Then doubt crept in. “Do they want me there after the last time I was in Devon?”
“Rachel asked for you.”
“She did?”
“You found Leighton and tracked down Katia when no one else could. She wants you tracking Ryan.”
Jules saw the perfect opportunity to really ingratiate herself into the family. “I’ll do it.”
“Good. Get packed.”
She nodded and disappeared into her bedroom. Mikey followed her, watching from the doorway as she threw things into an overnight bag.
“Are we okay?” he said.
Jules hesitated, dropped a bundle of clothes into the bag and sighed. “I’m still getting over what happened Mikey.”
“But…”
“Please let me finish,” she barked.
“Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands.
“I spoke to Cassandra. Don’t panic, I just told her that I’d found out he’d been attacked abroad and died. She gave me some good advice and you’re right, it is better for me that Leighton’s gone. It’s just going to take some time to get over.”
She was allowing him to see the vulnerable part of her and he was ashamed of himself when it excited him as much as her aggressive side did. She looked all soft and gentle and it made him want to pull her onto his lap. He was acutely aware of the large bed between them.
Realising she was still talking he forced himself to focus on her words.
“Every time I look at you Mikey I see you putting that pillow over his face and right now that’s all I associate with you.”
“I’m sorry for that, really sorry.”
She recognised how genuine he was being and nodded. “I know you only did what you thought was best, for me as well as yourself and you did. Just give me some space to get over it in my own time.”
“So we’re okay?”
“Not yet but one day we will be.”
“That’s the best I’m going to get?”
“You killed the little girl in me Mikey and I’m learning to cope without her.”
This woman absolutely fascinated him, there were so many facets and depths to her personality. He was witnessing the birth of a brand new one, one that would keep her more stable and grounded. He hoped.
“Then that’ll have to do, for now. Don’t take long,” he said, closing the bedroom door and retreating to the lounge. “Keep your distance Mikey,” he told himself.
Jez had serious doubts about taking Jules to Devon but if it was what Rachel wanted then there was little he could do about it. She did seem different now Leighton was gone, a little quieter, calmer, but he feared she was just lulling them into a false sense of security before she flipped out on them. He swore to himself that if she screwed up the search for Ryan or put finding him in any sort of danger he would bury her personally. But at the same time he was concerned, he felt sorry for her, not that he’d ever tell her that, she wouldn’t appreciate it. The abuse she’d endured had been horrific and he couldn’t even imagine what she was feeling now Leighton was dead.
They were at a private airstrip waiting for the plane that would take them to Exeter to be readied. Jez nodded at Mikey to give him some privacy with Jules. Understanding exactly what he wanted Mikey casually wandered off to chat to the pilot.
“How are you doing Jules?” said Jez quietly.
She shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
She studied him with her cool grey eyes. Jez thought it was just like looking into Ryan’s. “You know, don’t you?”
He nodded.
“Mikey and his big gob,” she sighed.
“We tell each other everything, it’s a rule we have. We don’t like secrets, they’re dangerous.”
“If you’re going to give me a lecture on how stupid I’ve been then you’re too late, Mikey got there first.”
“I’m not going to do that. You’re fully aware of what you’ve done. I only want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because you’re my big sister.”
“Only biologically,” she shrugged.
“True. We haven’t really made the effort to get to know each other yet. How about you come to my house for dinner one evening to meet your sister-in-law and niece and nephew?”
“I’m not really good at socialising and making small talk,” she said uncertainly.
“Then you need more practice. Dinner, my house, next week. I’ll let you know when and you will be there,” he said, playfully nudging her with his shoulder.
“Okay, if you insist.”
“I do.”
Brother and sister smiled at each other.
“Thanks Jez,” she said, feeling a little better. She’d lost the last person from her old family. It was time to build a new one.
He patted her on the shoulder. “You’re welcome big sis.”
Mikey returned. “Plane’s ready.”
They all walked out onto the concourse together, Jules smiling at her brother’s back.
It was Bruiser who opened the door, grim and glowering.
“Alright Bruiser, good to see you. I just wish it was under better circumstances,” said Mikey, holding out his hand.
Bruiser shook his hand and nodded. The three of them filed inside and dumped their bags in the hallway. Rachel appeared from the direction of the kitchen. “Mikey.”
She raced up to him and threw her arms around his neck, desperately seeking the comfort his presence always gave her but this time was different, she couldn’t feel it, her fear for Ryan drowning out any ounce of good feeling.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothed, stroking her back as she continued to cling onto him.
“Jez,” she said, turning from Mikey to him.
“Any idea where he is?” said Jez as he hugged her.
She shook her head. “No. The police aren’t much use. Finally they’ve realised there’s a serial killer on the loose but they’ve absolutely no idea who it is.” She looked hopefully to Jules and stepped forward to greet her. “Thanks for coming.”
“I’m happy to help. Actually I’m looking forward to it, taking on a real life serial killer.”
“Jules,” exclaimed Mikey.
She cringed when she saw Rachel’s outraged scowl. “Sorry, I have issues with social boundaries. I’m working on it though.”
“I don’t give a shit about your personal problems,” said Rachel. “Can you find my husband?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s all I care about.”
“I need an exact timetable of his last movements.”
“This way,” said Rachel.
They followed her into the kitchen where a base of operations had been set up, papers strewn everywhere.
“Give her whatever she needs,” Rachel told Battler.
He didn’t appear to be too enthusiastic about this order but did as she said and dumped a list in Jules’s hands. “There you go, names, times, dates. Everything.”
“And you’re sure he’s been taken by this serial killer?” she said as she studied the list.
“He fits the victim profile. Sorry Rach.”
“It’s okay. Do what you have to do to find him. Don’t mind my feelings,” she replied grimly.
“Similar age,” went on Battler, hating how his words were hurting Rachel. “All the other victims were good looking too, physically strong and able. This guy’s got standards.”
“Any other links between victims? Sports clubs, similar hobbies, that sort of thing?” said Jules.
“Nothing. A couple of the victims knew each other, they grew up in the same area, but Ryan didn’t know any of them,” replied Battler.
“Where was he taken from?”
“Ryan left the spa at three forty four pm to pick Leah up from school, but he never got there.”
“How long a drive is it from the spa to the school?”
“Ten minutes.”
“Did anyone actually see him leave?”
“The receptionists did and we’ve got him on CCTV going out the front door,” said Battler.
“But his car was still in the car park,” added Rachel, her voice and eyes hard in an attempt to keep in her emotion. “The cameras didn’t pick him up beyond the door. He didn’t get near his car.”
“I need to see the car park.”
“There’s nothing there, we’ve looked,” said Battler.
“I’m sure you have but I need to get under the kidnapper’s skin, I need to think like him and in order to do that I have to see the places he’s been.”
“Give her whatever she needs,” said Rachel. With that she turned her back on them all to face the window.
Battler and Bruiser took this as the dismissal it was and led Jules outside to their car.
“What can we do?” said Jez, practically hopping from one foot to the other with anxiety. “I need to be doing something.”
“You can take a look up at the Marsh‘s farm, they’re our nearest neighbours. Ryan had some suspicions about the man who owns it. Battler and Bruiser have checked the house and some of the outbuildings but there are a couple of places they’ve not had chance to check yet,” said Rachel, still facing the window. “They’ll be out all afternoon visiting relatives so you’ll be free and clear but make sure you’re gone by five, they’ll be back then.”
“Then we’ll get on it,” said Jez, already striding for the door.
“Do you want me to stay with you Rach?” said Mikey, coming up behind her and putting his arm around her shoulders.
“I’d rather you were doing something useful to find Ryan.” She looked up at him apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so short.”
“You don’t ever need to apologise to me Rach. We’ll get right on it, if it’ll help.”
“Thanks,” she said, her voice breaking.
He kissed her cheek and followed Jez outside.
When she heard the front door slam shut behind them Rachel allowed herself to descend into sobs.
CHAPTER 20
Beth stood eagerly in the arrivals lounge of Manchester Airport, butterflies in her stomach as she studied the face of every incomer. When a tall figure wearing army fatigues carrying a backpack emerged, her heart leapt.
“Riley,” she called, realising she sounded like a schoolgirl with a crush.
He broke into a grin and rushed to her. Dumping the backpack he pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her neck. She was crushed against him but she was delighted, it told her how much he’d missed her.
“It’s so good to see you again,” she said.
He pulled back slightly so he could look her in the face. Tenderly he brushed her hair back off her forehead. “Good to see you too. You look so beautiful.”
They looked at each other shyly, uncertain, before Riley made the decision for them both and kissed her. Not caring they were in an airport full of people she groaned into his mouth, lust overwhelming her. He was so hot.
She saw a group of teenage girls watching her jealously and was overcome with pride for her handsome soldier. Yes his job was so dangerous but it was one to be proud of, unlike Alex’s work.
“Riley, there’s something you need to know.”
His smile fell. “What?”
“It’s Ryan.”
Ryan’s head thumped with pain, a steady rhythm that made his stomach roll over. His back also throbbed, as though someone had had a go at it with an iron bar.
Acting on instinct he didn’t move or make any sign that he was awake. Instead he lay still, listening, attempting to acclimatise himself. Where was he? He wasn’t at home, that was for sure. The floor he was laid on was cold and composed of wood. Something heavy weighed down his wrists. Chains, he surmised. There was a slight throb in his left upper arm. He recalled the sharp pain, looking down to see the dart embedded there, pulling it out and slumping to the ground, a large figure looming over him…
Ryan stifled a shiver that, he was forced to admit, wasn’t entirely caused by the cold seeping into his bones. Who was responsible for this? The McVay’s? Katia? The Slatterys?
Someone was watching him, he could feel their eyes burning into him. Time to stop the charade and face this.
Ryan dragged himself up onto his knees, vision blurring as his head swam. His stomach heaved violently and he doubled over and retched, but nothing came up.
“It’s just the effects of the drug,” said a voice. “It’ll wear off soon.”
Ryan analysed the voice as he attempted to clear his vision. The accent wasn’t Scottish, Slovakian or Essex, so that ruled out the usual suspects. In fact it was pure Devonsh
ire. A local boy.
Ryan forced his head up, the large figure before him seeming to blur and split into two before it merged and became one again, the film lifting from his eyes. Finally he saw it was a heavy set man, overweight, thinning dark hair, small sunken eyes. He wore camouflage combat trousers, his pendulous belly protruding over the top, and a matching jacket, which hung open to reveal a dark green t-shirt beneath, the material stretched to its limit. For some reason he looked familiar but his brain refused to tell him why.
They were in some sort of wooden hut, it was dark and dank and stank of death, old death. It looked like it was used regularly. There was only one exit - a door to Ryan’s right at the far end of the room. There were no windows. Two camping lanterns cast the only light. The only other things in the small room were a couple of chairs, a portable television and a padlocked steel cabinet. Against one wall were an ancient electric cooker and a small fridge or freezer, he couldn’t tell which just by looking at it. Ryan reasoned there must be a generator somewhere powering everything. The wooden walls were covered in animals heads. On the far wall were mounted what appeared to be a pair of human hands, ten toes and a pair of ears. There were other gruesome trophies that Ryan didn’t care to examine too closely, but it was clear they’d been taken from human beings, not animals. Frankie McVay would have loved this place.
“Who are you?” murmured Ryan, tongue thick in his mouth. When he tried to run his hands down his face he found he could only lift them to chest level, hearing the clink of chains, feeling the weight of them. Looking down he saw the manacles around his wrists were tethered to thick loops that were bolted to the floor.
“You’ve been looking for me Ryan,” replied the fat man with an amused smile. “You’ve been hunting me when all the time I was stalking you, waiting to go in for the kill and you didn’t even know.”
Ryan recalled all the times he’d thought someone had been watching him and seen no one. How had he missed this fat bastard? His synapses started firing again, allowing him to make connections. “Kerrell.”
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