Now in the car on the way home, the checklist exhausted, I’m at a complete loss for what else I should do. All the obvious police jobs done, the responsibility her father gave me – to take her home – almost done… Soothe her? Perhaps comfort her, that’s the sort of thing a boyfriend should do, right? Except I haven’t claimed that title yet. And everything is getting more complicated by the second.
I stop at a red light and allow myself to focus my attention on the girl sat next to me. She’s shivering slightly, as she looks out the window at the passing houses. After everything we’ve been through since we first met, I can’t get over how scared she was tonight.
It had been so completely, out of character. I’ve long since believed that she is the bravest woman I know and yet tonight that bravery was shattered. It’s not a judgement – my own bravery deserted me today too. I just need to know that she’s okay.
Her head begins to droop, and she falls asleep.
I wake her once the car is parked in the underground car park.
“Little Lioness,” I whisper, “time to go inside.”
She stirs but doesn’t wake. After several attempts I give up, exiting the car. I wander around to the passenger side and pull her from the car. I lift her into my arms, bridal style, and close the door with my foot. I balance her with one arm as I quickly lock the car.
Then I make my way over to the lift.
She mumbles something incoherent, causing me to look down at her face. Her eyes are open although drooping as if she’ll fall asleep again at any moment.
“Thank you,” she says. “You came for me.”
The words ring in my ear, reminding me of one of the first things she ever told me… I hope no one ever has to rescue me.
“I’ll always come for you,” I promise her.
“You shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because your life means more to me than that.” Her words melt my heart.
“Well then, you’ll understand when I say that you matter more to me than that too.” I move a hair out of her eye. “I’d risk everything to keep you safe.”
“You mustn’t.”
“I won’t argue about it with you, Kentley. It’s already decided. I’m your personal bodyguard. I’m not leaving your side until this guy is either locked up or dead… perhaps not even then.”
The look she gives me is pure exasperation.
“Why can’t you ever do as your told?”
“Damn it.” I chuckle. “I don’t know. It might have something to do with stupid bints with unrealistic expectations.”
“It’s not unrealistic.”
“It is. You know me well enough by now, surely to work out that I’m a misogynist who doesn’t think you can look after yourself.”
“I don’t believe that.”
I can’t not smile. We’ve come a long way from the day we first met.
The boys are on a mission this morning to cheer Kentley up. I’m grateful for the attempt but there’s no world in which it will work. She’s barely slept. She’s cranky and annoyed.
To make matters worse she received another note when we arrived first thing. We called CSI before opening it this time. It was another picture of the last victim.
She wasn’t as pretty as you.
“I think we should go to the pub tonight,” Alvin suggests.
The others quickly agree but Kentley isn’t really paying attention.
“If he’s still messing around with pictures of the last victim and stalking me that means he’s still not found a new one yet,” she’s muttering more to herself than anyone else, “but how long before he gets bored of tormenting me and strikes again?”
“Oh, Kentley, you up for the pub tonight?” Stone asks her, breaking through her haze of shock.
I shouldn’t have brought her in today but call me arrogant, there was no way I wasn’t taking the lead on this case and I wasn’t leaving her side.
She nods, giving her consent.
“I need to go out and about as much as possible. The more he sees me, perhaps the less likely it will be that he will go and kill another girl.”
I don’t like it. If I had my way, I’d take her home, lock us in and throw away the key.
The pub is busy as ever but unlike normal, it puts me on edge. I’m clutching her hand, unwilling to drop it. We go to the bar together, we sit side by side. My eyes are focused on the door, watching the people entering the pub, checking for anything suspicious.
The boys are working hard, trying to distract Kentley.
I’m barely listening to their conversation, but I hear it loud and clear when Milton asks, “so, are you two together?”
Kentley almost spits out her drink in surprise.
“Erm… we haven’t really talked about it,” she answers, trying to evade the question.
Doesn’t she realise we’ve been evading the question for over a month, ever since she was in the hospital? They’ve been patient. It’s probably time we actually answer them.
“We haven’t had much chance to discuss it with everything else…” I begin, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be.”
She smiles briefly. It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile in days and it makes everything that little bit better.
“So, you want to be together?” Lance presses.
“Yeah. I do.” Might as well put my cards on the table.
John laughs. “If you say it’s exclusive, it’s exclusive.”
Trust John to simplify everything.
“It’s exclusive,” I say with a sly grin at the little lioness next to me. She beams back.
“It’s exclusive,” she repeats my words back at me.
Chapter Twenty-Three – Georgia
Arriving home, I pull my scarf and coat off.
“God! It’s cold out there.”
Trent comes up behind me, rubbing his hands up and down my arms.
“Do you want a hot drink?”
I shake my head, I don’t want anything that isn’t in this small space around me. I lean back into him, resting my head on his chest. His hand goes to the buttons of my blouse. I don’t move. I just stand there, using him as a pillar, to prop myself up. His hands explore my skin as he exposes it, putting his hand inside my bra to cup and caress me there.
Dropping to his knees behind me, he helps me remove my shoes and socks. Shoes off, I turn around to face him; I need to see him.
He undoes the zip of my trousers, his eyes never leaving mine. He allows them to fall to the ground at my feet and stands up. As I step out of them, he takes my hand and he pulls me towards him.
There are words that I want to say but my mouth doesn’t open. We’re surrounded by silence, neither one of us willing to break it.
I reach up for the button of his shirt. I want him as naked as I am. As I remove his shirt, his left hand rests just below my ear, twirling my hair between his fingers. The look he’s giving me is both terrifying and heady. It’s different to anything I ever felt with Darren, stronger, more potent. The way he looks at me makes my body sing.
Pulling his now undone shirt out of his trousers, I make quick work of unbuckling his belt as he shrugs the shirt off his shoulders.
Once we’re both stood there in our underwear, it hits me that we’re currently stood half naked in the hallway.
It’s not a problem – or it wouldn’t be if it was summer and not the beginning of February. I automatically wrap a hand around myself and it’s not from shame. My skin is covered in Goosebumps and I’m shivering slightly. I’m convinced if I stand here much longer, my teeth will start chattering. I make a grab for his hand and make a run for my bedroom.
“I’m so cold,” I tell him as I lead him in.
Chuckling, he gives me a look that says I won’t be for long and then I’m in his arms as he kisses me softly, his hand wrapping around my hair as he pulls me towards the bed. He sits himself down, pulling me on top of him, my thighs either side of his. I feel h
im, hard and unyielding against the silk of my knickers.
He unhooks my bra, discarding it, as he drops his mouth to my breast, swirling his tongue around and around, teasing me.
“Yes,” I grit out. “Please…”
He smirks up at me, clearly a little pleased with himself.
While his mouth continues to explore my flesh, his hands make their way down to my knickers, stroking me through the wet silk. He pushes his hand beneath them and into my folds, massaging my clit before dipping two fingers inside me.
He lifts his head to kiss me once more, his taste overpowering my senses.
Removing his hand, “stand up,” his words come out harsh and breathy.
I get to my feet and stand in front of him. He lowers my knickers to the ground before pulling off his boxers. Grabbing me by the waist, he pulls me back down onto the bed, so that he’s kneeling between my legs.
“There are condoms in the draw,” I tell him. I go to sit up, but he pushes me back down.
“I’ll get it.”
He kisses me on the nose, as he leans over to my bed side table, opening the top draw and removing a condom. I can’t take my eyes off him as he rolls the condom down his length. He looks imposing like this; taut muscle and hard flesh as he kneels before me, preparing to enter me.
I’m impatient and whine as he slowly pushes into me. I push back, desperate to feel him in the deepest part of me. He falls forward, resting on his forearms as they lie on either side of my head.
His mouth meets mine as he begins to thrust in.
My hands dig into his back, gripping him tightly, seeking to be as close to him as possible. Heat rushes through me and beads of sweat line his forehead.
He drops his head to my neck, biting down on my collar bone, causing me to cry out.
“Walker,” I breathe out. “More. Please.”
He doesn’t let up or slow down. He keeps going, putting his strength to good use. We move in tandem, perfect harmony, as we come towards our climax.
The next morning my mood is dramatically better than the day before. We walk into the yard, hand in hand, ready to face whatever rubbish comes our way.
There are several wolf whistles as we enter the briefing room, but John quickly shushes them.
“We’ve had a twenty-four-year-old brunette reported missing,” he says to Trent.
His tone telling us both exactly what he thinks. This is the next victim, if we don’t save her first.
Trent drops my hand to accept the file that John is offering him. He takes a seat and begins shifting through it, as I read it over his shoulder. The urgency of the day before returns tenfold.
We can’t fail her.
I can’t fail her.
A sense of responsibility fills me as I look at her picture. She looks like my sister, only older. She’s smiling in the picture. Her smile haunts me. I read the information about her, familiarising myself with who she is. Her name is Sherry and she’s a musician.
The clock is against us. Most of the girls hadn’t been kept alive long. We have no way to know how long he’ll keep her alive. She could be dead already; the thought crosses my mind not just once but several times. Stone and Milton have been trying to trace the letters but haven’t been very successful. The others have been focused on trying to find men in the London area that match the physical description I gave them, while also matching the profile that the psychologists have worked on. It’s frustratingly slow.
Just as Trent is telling me that we should eat, I get a call from downstairs.
“There’s another note,” the PC from the front desk says down the line.
“I’ll be right there. Don’t touch it. Call CSI.” I hang up the phone and rush for the door, Trent on my tail.
Al from CSI opens the envelope. He’s wearing gloves and uses a small utensil to prevent damaging it. The picture inside is horrific. Sherry is bound to a blood-stained bed, bruises cover her exposed skin and her eyes almost beg me to rescue her. There in the corner is the handwriting that I’ve come to dread.
She’s alive but she hasn’t got long.
48 hours.
“She’s still alive. We can still save her,” I say, with bittersweet hope.
Trent nods his head.
“48 hours…” He takes a picture of the image. “Let’s go back upstairs. Kate,” he turns to the desk PC, “can you order us some pizzas?”
“Is there really time for that?” I chastise him.
“You need to eat.” With those words, he’s rushing up the stairs and back into the briefing room. “Everyone! Gather round.” He calls them together as he sends the image to the printer from his phone. He sticks the image to the board. “We’ve got forty-eight hours to save her life. How are we going to do it?”
Several hours later, the majority of the team have gone out. It’s just me, John and Walker here. I’m currently working through Sherry’s schedule from yesterday, in an attempt to work out when she was kidnapped. Trent is sat with John working through a pile of possible suspects – the pile is huge, and I can’t see them working that out any time soon.
My phone rings and I rush to answer it in case it’s one of the team with a new lead.
“Still haven’t worked out who I am?” His voice causes my hand to shake. My eyes dart up to look for Trent. His head is bent over his work. Shit.
“You can’t tell him,” he says.
His words cause me to look around, suddenly scared that he is here in the room.
“Nope. I’m not there. But I can see you.”
My eyes jump to the CCTV camera in the corner.
“Clever girl.” I can hear screams in the background. “I’d ask you to wave but it would give us away.”
I wait for him to continue.
“I don’t like him, you know.”
“Like him?”
“DCI Trent.” He’s angry, twisted with rage.
“Oh.” I need to catch their attention, without giving it away. I stand to my feet.
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere, just stretching my legs. Do you know how long I’ve been sat here?”
“Two hours and thirty-seven seconds.”
“I forgot,” I say, hitting my head lightly, “you’re watching.”
Trent looks up briefly, frowning at me. He opens his mouth, probably to tell me to get off the phone and get back to work when a look of pure thunder crosses his face. I shake my head, giggling lightly down the line. I need to give Trent a message but it can’t be obvious.
“How is she?” I ask because the screaming might have stopped momentarily but that doesn’t mean she’s not in pain.
“Okay, for now. In forty-four hours and twenty-six minutes I won’t be able to say that.”
“Are you going to tell me where you are?”
“What? So, you can tell your boyfriend?” He laughs darkly. “You know the one you’re staring at right now.”
Instinctively, I look away from Trent.
“You’re running out of time, you know.” he tells me. “I’ll give you a clue. Let’s think… I’m at the first place we met.”
“We’ve met?” I ask, suddenly flustered. “At the supermarket?”
“No love. Not the supermarket. Try again.”
I’m at a loss for ideas. We’ve actually met before all this, but I have no idea who he is.
“Should I tell you a story?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say, eager for any detail that might help me save Sherry.
“You wanted a little sister,” he says, “so you took mine.”
With those words he hangs up.
Chapter Twenty-Four – Walker
The shake of her head and the look in her eyes tell me not to speak, not to react, not to move at all. She increases the volume of her voice.
“How is she?”
John looks at me, I feel it more than see it as my eyes only see Kentley. I drop a hand to his shoulder, an order not to react.
He looks
back down at the papers in front of him, although his ears are still undoubtedly trained on her voice.
“Are you going to tell me where you are?” she asks.
She’s quiet, presumably he’s talking and then she looks away from me. I’m almost across the room in a second in response.
“We’ve met? At the supermarket?” I’m frozen still as I watch her listen to him. “Sure.”
Then she’s dropping the phone from her ear. She’s barking out orders at me.
“Call my dad. He needs to come here, now.”
Whatever he’s told her, it’s caught her out and broken her usually composed appearance.
Then she’s back on the phone.
“DAMN IT,” she says when whoever she’s calling doesn’t pick up.
I’m watching her from where I stand talking to her dad on the phone.
“I’ll be down in a second,” he tells me.
“She’s not answering the phone. John, we need to contact the police in Birmingham. I need PCs at my sister’s house.”
Her eyes are frantic as she turns back to her computer and starts searching for a children’s home that I’ve never heard of.
“What did he say?” I ask her.
“He said that I wanted a sister so I took his. I need to find my sister’s adoption records.”
I’m back on the phone as soon as she stops talking, calling the boys back. We’re minutes away from having a name.
An hour later, we don’t just have a name, we have a face, and an address in London. We’re in the car. The DCS is with us, sat in the passenger seat. He’s spoken to his wife and the PCs in Birmingham are escorting Rachael, Georgia’s adopted sister back to the family home in London. Apparently, she’s not overly happy about it because she’s barely been back in Birmingham for a day or two.
Georgia is in the back seat.
“He won’t be there,” she says.
I glance at her through the central mirror.
“You never know.”
“He’ll know this is our next move.”
She shakes her head irritably. She’s annoyed because her dad has insisted that she will stay in the car when we get there. She knows he’s just trying to protect her but that doesn’t change how she feels about it. In fairness, SCO19 – Specialist Firearms Command - will be the first to enter the building. Heck, if the look on DCS Kentley’s face is anything to go by he’s considered calling in the MOD.
Inescapable Fate: Hanleigh's London (The Fate Series Book 1) Page 12
