Never Forgotten

by G H Mockford

  Chambers took out a third photo from the folder. It was a shot looking down the bridge, probably from the camera Stephen had just mentioned. He peered at the image. He could see himself on his bike. A car was on the other side of the road.

  ‘That’s the car?’ Stephen asked.

  Chambers smiled and nodded. ‘When you watch the tape you clearly see it drive up to you. It was all over the place. Then it turned on its lights.’

  ‘Just like I said.’

  ‘Just like you said,’ Chambers agreed. ‘Its position in the road would tie in with what you’ve just suggested.’

  ‘Can you get the number plate?’ Stephen asked.

  ‘Unfortunately not. It’s obscured. But we know the make and model. It’s a start.’

  ‘Can you use other footage to track where it went next?’

  ‘Thank you, DC Chambers. Mr Bridges.’ DI Hamilton butted in before Chambers could give an answer – if she had one. ‘DC Chambers will show you out. Do us a favour, Mr Bridges. Keep away from this. We’ve already lost one officer. We don’t want to lose anyone else.’

  Before Stephen had the chance to say anything else, Hamilton got up and left the room.

  Forty-One

  Stephen was an expert at feeling guilt, but if Hamilton were trying to make him feel responsible for Grigg’s death, he wouldn’t succeed. It wasn’t anything to do with him.

  Was it?

  The Manor was dead when Stephen arrived for work, and it remained that way all night.

  Cliff had carried out further improvements while Stephen had been away. TVs were now positioned throughout the lounge.

  ‘Don’t worry, they’re not for football,’ Cliff said the moment he saw Stephen. ‘There’s a stadium or two just over the river if people want to pay good money to watch idiots run around after a ball. No,’ Cliff continued explaining, ‘these are all part of my entertainment plan.’

  ‘Go on,’ Stephen said, encouraging the publican. Not that he needed any.

  ‘The way the bar’s positioned, not everyone can see the live entertainment.’ Cliff pointed at the recently installed stage. ‘By using this camera,’ Cliff indicated the camera above the bar that in turn pointed at the newly installed stage, ‘we can also show it on the screens.’

  ‘Like a concert or a festival,’ Stephen nodded, his face showing he was impressed with his old friend’s plan. Or at least not wanting to rain on his parade.

  ‘I’ve a set-up for karaoke coming later in the week.’ Cliff ignored Stephen’s pained expression. ‘We’ll do the same with that. We can also use it to show pop videos, advertise upcoming events and new beers. Anything. And that’s just the beginning.’

  ‘And the brewery’s paid for all this?’

  ‘No,’ Cliff trailed off.

  ‘So who has?’

  ‘O.J. needs service,’ Cliff said and turned away.

  Confused by Cliff’s obvious distraction tactic, Stephen pushed the landlord’s odd behavior to one side and smiled at O.J. It was good to see the old boy back in his home away from home. His face looked considerably better than it had three days ago.

  ‘Oh for Christ’s sake.’

  Stephen was ducking behind the bar when he heard O.J.’s response to Cliff’s great plan.

  The night didn’t get any busier, so Cliff began to cash up early. Stephen cleaned the coffee machine and hoped that no one would order a last minute drink. It was unlikely considering it was the hard drinkers who were in tonight.

  O.J. was the last to leave and Stephen offered to walk him home. The old man was a little worse for wear and the last thing he needed was to trip and fall on his face. O.J. refused.

  Stephen ushered the old man outside, checked he crossed the road safely and then slid the bolts home, sealing the pub up for the night. He turned to Cliff. ‘Can we talk?’

  ‘Always,’ Cliff said, leaving Stephen unsure quite what he meant. ‘Lemonade?’

  Stephen nodded a reply, and went and sat in their usual booth.

  Cliff came back, placed the pint glass of lemonade on the table and sat down, his usual pint of Castle Rock in his hand. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I can’t shake the feeling that it’s all a bit of a coincidence.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Dad losing two teenage daughters.’

  Cliff nodded and looked down at the table. ‘I was wondering how long it would take you to think of that.’

  ‘I think I did, years ago, when Felicity went missing, but I chose to ignore it, and the implications.’

  ‘And what are they?’

  ‘That my father’s a sick man.’

  Cliff let out a deep breath. ‘I’m glad you said it and not me.’

  ‘So you’ve had the same idea?’

  The publican nodded. ‘It’s an obvious conclusion. Let’s hope not too obvious. Have the police spoken to him?’

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t ask.’

  ‘Perhaps you should.’

  ‘Great. I can see how well that’ll go down. ‘Dad, are you a police suspect?’ ‘Yes son, all these years I’ve been sexually abusing the girls in my care.’’

  ‘I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,’ Cliff said. ‘He would’ve been caught. Someone would’ve said something.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Stephen answered as he thought about the celebrities, politicians and religious figures who had been in the news over the last few years.

  ‘I won’t lie to you, Stephen. It’s a possibility. Something made those girls run away.’

  ‘I need to see him. He won’t be able to lie to me. I hope.’

  ‘It’s too late to ring now. Send him a text. He’ll get it in the morning.’

  Stephen took out his phone and retyped his message five times before settling on the first version he came up with.

  Forty-Two

  The door to Georgia’s room opened and the light strapped to his head clicked on a few seconds later. The beam cut through the darkness and illuminated her captor’s path. He placed the plate he was carrying on the floor beside her.

  It was fruit today. Or rather, tonight. ‘Something different for a change,’ Georgia said. There was no answer. ‘Good. I was getting sick of sandwiches. I’m sure all the white bread and lack of exercise is making me put on weight.’

  The light stepped back through the door and the sound of the key in the lock was as loud as a gunshot in the darkness.

  Georgia exhaled in relief. That was it. He was gone for the night. As far as she could tell.

  The one good thing about being captive in a house where there wasn’t anything to do was that it gave you plenty of time to think. And Georgia had been doing exactly that. Whoever her captor was, Georgia had decided, he must have a normal job and a normal life somewhere. Sometimes he was here in the morning. Sometimes not. It was as if he was dropping in on her, Felicity, and the other ‘guests’ before he went to work.

  To while away the hours, Georgia had tried to imagine a life for him. At first, it struck her as an odd thing to do, but it made him more normal. More human. Or perhaps it made him more inhuman. By day a seemingly average man who went about everyday life and routines. At night a twisted individual who captured and tortured women. At least he’d not physically hurt her yet. If you didn’t count the groping of course and the kidnapping, which she still couldn’t recollect. Had the drugs somehow affected her memory?

  In the life she’d imagined for him, he worked in an office. He was someone quite powerful, but not respected or given what he felt were his dues. His nighttime activities were his way of fulfilling his needs. He could get the power he needed, and fear was almost the same as respect.

  He was a sad and lonely man. He was forty and still a virgin. He had to be or he wouldn’t be free to come here every evening if he had a wife and family. Besides, how could you hide your twisted little ways from someone who knew you so intimately?

  The most curious thing was the food he gave her, and the food he often smelled of. It was a
lmost like he was a child. Then there was the Miss Matey.

  The sound of Felicity scraping away at the fireplace drew Georgia away from her thoughts. She would join her fellow captive in a moment. While she was pleased with the human contact, Georgia was beginning to find Felicity a little unsettling. It was as if she’d been here so long she accepted her situation and was even willing to make sacrifices to improve it.

  Georgia would never do that, even if it meant having a proper bed to sleep in. No, like the conversation she’d had with him about the fruit, she would never be broken, and she would let him know it.

  As if to prove it to herself, Georgia got out of the chair and walked to the window and opened the shutters. The rusted hinges made less noise this time. By standing on her tiptoes, she could see through a crack in the boards. All was dark outside. The cloud cover outside must be thick. Georgia stood at the window, imagining it was glass and that she could see a beautiful garden.

  The scraping grew louder in the background and Georgia’s calves started to ache from the prolonged, unnatural standing position. She went back to the chair and felt down the back of the cushion for the broken piece of plate.

  ‘Georgia? Georgia?’ came an excited whisper from the fireplace.

  The chain rattled across the floor as she got down on her hands and knees and crawled towards the sound of Felicity’s voice. Georgia rarely put her arm out to search ahead anymore. She’d counted the steps and memorized the room, practicing during the lighter day times when she should have been asleep. It was another way she was defying him, even if he didn’t know it.

  ‘Georgia? I’ve broken through! I can get my fingers through the gap.’

  Georgia smiled and felt an aching in her chest. Could it be true? She sat on the cold hearth and with a trembling hand, reached into the firebox.

  There she was. A warmth. A human finger with a ragged nail.

  ‘Oh my god. It’s you. It’s really you,’ Felicity said. Her finger disappeared back through the small opening that hours of hard work had made. ‘It should be easier to wear it away now. Keep going.’

  Georgia didn’t say a word. She took her homemade tool and got to work.

  They both worked in silence, except for the odd word of encouragement or to stop when either heard strange or unexpected sounds. The old house seemed to come alive at night.

  Georgia didn’t know how long they had been working, but her fingertips were numb and her hip had gone to sleep where she’d been lying on it. The shard of plate was so worn down it was next to useless. She threw it to one side. When she went to get up, Georgia was stiffer than she realized and had to use the mantelpiece to help herself get to her feet.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Felicity said, her voice breathy and urgent.

  ‘My tool’s had it. And so have I.’

  ‘Don’t stop now. I think if we kick at the slab it’ll come free.’

  ‘My leg’s dead,’ Georgia snapped back as she hobbled back to her chair and fell into it. She was tired too. Her resolve had been ground down just like the mortar.

  There was a sudden thud, followed by a gritty, grinding sound. ‘Georgia? I’ve almost done it?’

  From her chair, Georgia turned and looked through the darkness. The sound of three more blows filled the room. There came a tortured grinding, followed by the surprisingly quiet impact of the stone toppling onto the hearth.

  Georgia leapt out of her chair. The dead leg protested, but she forced herself to the fireplace, her teeth gritted through the pain. Crouching down, she reached into the darkness. The fumbling around seemed to go on forever, and although she was searching for it, Georgia couldn’t believe she was actually touching Felicity when they found each other.

  The pair laughed. The relief and the sense of almost freedom overwhelmed Georgia and a tear slipped from her eye.

  ‘I’ve waited so long for this,’ Felicity said. ‘Thank you. Thank you. I hardly dared dream it was possible.’

  ‘It was your idea.’

  ‘No,’ Felicity said, ‘it was Dumas’. I just hope I don’t have to die for you to escape.

  ‘Oh shut u – ‘

  Georgia froze.

  There was creak outside the door.

  He was here.

  Forty-Three

  ‘Get back,’ Georgia whispered, resisting the urge to shout in her panic. ‘He’s heading to your room.’

  Through the darkness, Georgia could hear Felicity shuffling back. How she wished she could see. Movements and vague shapes were sometimes visible, but nothing with any useful clarity.

  Georgia was about to retreat to her chair when through the fireplace a beam of light cut across Felicity’s room. Georgia froze unsure what to do. Would he see or hear her if she moved? Her heart rate rose so rapidly she thought it would leap out of her throat.

  The light from the head torch moved and lit up the bed that Felicity had told her about. Georgia’s mouth fell open.

  It was a hospital bed.

  The light fell on Felicity’s legs as she scrambled up onto the grimy bed sheets. Georgia wasn’t sure if she imagined it but the hairs on Felicity’s unshaven legs seemed to be standing on end.

  He stood there for a moment.

  Nobody said anything.

  Then he turned and locked the door, leaving the key in the lock.

  Georgia felt tiny bubbles of hope rise within her. This was an opportunity. If she could get through the fireplace, the pair of them could easily overcome him. Praying she was no longer so afraid she couldn’t move, Georgia reached forward with her left hand. She gripped the edges of the opening.

  ‘Right, you bastard,’ Georgia muttered under her breath and reached out with her right hand.

  It came to an abrupt halt.

  She’d forgotten about the chain.

  Georgia held the frustrated curse inside and froze.

  He spoke for the first time, his voice dry and husky. ‘Felicity? You know why I’m here.’

  The light moved up her body and lingered on her chest. Felicity was dressed in rags. Like the bedsheets, the once white clothes were now a dull grey, punctuated with various stains, most of which Georgia didn’t want to think about.

  ‘I won’t do it this time,’ Felicity said with the voice of a frightened child.

  ‘What am I?’ he said as he began to circle the bed.

  Georgia’s eyes widened as she remained trapped by her own body, forced to look through the fireplace. She could see leather straps hanging from the sides of the bed like it belonged to a mental ward.

  ‘I said, “What am I?”’

  ‘You are my master,’ Felicity answered from the darkness.

  ‘Then you will do as I command.’

  ‘I…’

  ‘You know it’s the right thing to do,’ he said. The light flicked to one of the straps. He took it into his hand, and the light moved to Felicity’s wrist. ‘Do I have to use this? It’s been such a long time. It’ll be such a shame after all the progress we’ve made.’

  There was silence for a while and then Felicity said, ‘You’ll have to.’

  ‘Disappointing. Believe it or not, I prefer it when you give yourself to me.’

  ‘Have this instead.’

  Felicity leapt off the bed. She became nothing but a blur as her dirty clothes caught the torchlight.

  Georgia watched in stunned silence as Felicity collided with their captor. All was chaos as Georgia watched fleeting, flickering images as the pair struggled in the darkness, lit up only by the occasional flash from his head torch. Felicity’s blonde hair lit up for a moment and then the light swept up the wall and onto the ceiling.

  The pair crashed onto the floor right in front of Georgia. A loud crack filled the air as the back of his head came into contact with the marble hearth in Felicity’s room.

  Georgia shot back in fear and immediately felt like a coward. She could have reached through and grabbed him, held him down while Felicity attacked him.

  But it was alread
y too late.

  Georgia began to move forward, when there came the sound of a crippling blow followed by a scream from Felicity.

  ‘How dare you,’ he roared, his voice rough and hollow as it passed through the fireplace. Georgia watched as he got off the hearth and stalked Felicity into the middle of the room. He struck out at her. Felicity fell against the bed and crumpled to the floor.

  Georgia moved back into her room, away from the erratic flashes of light and the terrible screams. There’s nothing I can do, Georgia told herself, but the truth was, nothing she could say would take away her shame.

  The struggle continued for a few moments longer, and then after a terrible scream from Felicity, it went quiet in the room next door.

  Georgia sat, shivering in the darkness and listened to the nothingness that came through the tunnel they had created. Had he killed her? Would he come for her next?

  Then the silence was shattered by a quiet, pained voice. ‘You broke my l…leg.’

  There came the sounds of movement and then a grunt. Was he picking her up? Was he taking pity on her and lifting her onto the bed?

  ‘You need to settle down,’ he said, his voice much calmer now. Between the echoes of sobbing, Georgia could easily hear the sounds of Velcro being undone. ‘You’ll feel safer now. These will help you regain control.’

  Georgia’s breath came quick and shallow. Her heart felt like it wanted to escape her chest the way she wanted to escape the room. As much as she tried not to, Georgia could see him in her mind’s eye tying Felicity to the bed with the leather straps.

  The light coming from the fireplace went out and Georgia put her hands over her ears. Now she couldn’t see or hear, and in a strange way it was comforting. It made her feel safe.

  Georgia made her way back to the chair and sat down in its comfy confines. She left her hands over her ears for as long as she could, but soon the cold got to her muscles, and she couldn’t keep them there any longer. Once again, Georgia could hear Felicity gently sobbing, the sound quiet and defeated. But that wasn’t all she could hear.

  He was grunting.