by Lee Cockburn
“I’ll call an ambulance for you Serg,” the young constable said in a soft and calming manner.
“No thank you. I won’t need one. There are far more worthy candidates for their services than me, but thanks for your concern anyway.”
“Come and sit in the car then and get your breath back. You’ve had a pretty scary situation to deal with back there,” the young cop said politely as he led her to his car and opened the front passenger door to let her in. She took a seat, taking a long deep breath as she finally allowed herself to take in what had just happened to her and how much worse it could have been had the backup been another minute later.
Police vans arrived and an ambulance too, for the male with the broken wrist and all of the other young males were rounded up and caught and arrested, although one had to be taken to the hospital first of course. The arrest was possible due to an old lady who had witnessed the whole incident from her flat across the road, which corroborated Taylor’s version of events, but unfortunately the lady didn’t have a phone or she would have called the minute it had started. This was lucky, because in Scots law, there had to be two forms of evidence to secure a conviction or to prevent others from falsifying evidence and creating their own version of events, preventing innocent people who were the victims of crime from getting into trouble for others’ wrongdoing and suffering twice at the hands of their abusers.
Marcus pulled up behind the vehicle that Taylor was sitting in and came running towards her, his face contorted with the worry of someone who truly cared as he approached. He opened the door, knelt down and took Taylor’s hands. “Are you alright, what the fuck happened here? That’s it, I don’t care how bold you think you are, from now on we’re doing things together, especially coming to places like this!”
Taylor scowled at him with a petulant expression on her face, a mixture of you’re not telling me what I can and can’t do and you’re exactly right, I’m a fool for going it alone to get things dealt with quicker.
She stepped out of the car as another officer approached her, the team Sergeant Anderson, who stated in an apologetic manner, “You will be required to give a statement.” He hesitated and then said, “Under caution though - the guy whose wrist you broke is making a counter allegation against you.”
“Fine! Twisted little prick, but I expected that. He brought everything that happened there on himself. I warned him and the rest of them, but he started on me and they just started to pile in. What else was I supposed to do? Release him and make it even more easy for them to attack me? No fucking way.”
An hour later, after giving her statement, Marcus started to head towards his car and was expecting Taylor to follow, but she muttered, “Aahhemm, mister! Where do you think you’re going? I still need to speak to Nicky. I’m not coming back here tomorrow. No way.”
“What! You need to be going home, put your feet up and take the rest of the day off. You’re entitled to it you know.”
“I don’t want time off. I want to do what I came here to do. I’m not letting those little pricks scare me off. Come on!”
They entered the lift, a small enclosed metal box, names burnt onto the ceiling with lighters and the stench of stale urine overpowering. Dried saliva on half of the buttons and a used condom in the corner to join them as the metal doors shuddered closed. Clanking noises sounded all the way up, until the lift groaned as it stopped abruptly at the 17th floor. The doors opened and the floor was split into two sections, one at either side of the corridor with external security doors leading to each set of three dwellings: a futile attempt to stop house break-ins and intimidation.
At the security door Taylor stopped and paused for a minute, almost as if to gather herself back together again. Marcus dared to put his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to offer her some moral support as he had never seen her shaken like this before. She straightened up and looked at him. Her eyes softened and she said, “Thank you, I’m okay you know. I’m just thinking of how bad that could have turned out for me.”
Marcus replied, “It didn’t, though, and you’re a very lucky lady.”
Taylor reached for the buzzer and pressed flat number one for a prolonged period, allowing the person inside to wake up or sort themselves out, before coming to the door. Three more tries and the door was finally opened. Before them was a six foot four man, of muscular build with a shaved head and a large diamond earring in his left ear. He was wearing a tight black t-shirt, loose designer jeans and brown Timberland boots with the laces undone. A tattoo of an eye on his neck, just visible from beneath his top completed the look. He had dark brown pupils with an unwelcome gaze which was fixed on Taylor’s breasts. He hadn’t even acknowledged that Marcus was there, his attention was only for the striking woman that stood before him.
“Have you come to earn a little cash? I’m needing another star for the show,” Nicky was careful not to implicate himself with what he said.
Taylor stated in a clear and firm voice, “Detective Sergeant Nicks and DC Black. We’ve come to ask you a few more questions about the disappearance of Layla Petrovsky.”
“What! You’ve asked me shit loads of questions about that useless bitch already.”
“Sir, do you mind if we come in and speak to you somewhere a little more private, please?” Taylor nodded her head, gesturing to be allowed into his flat.
Eventually, he moved to the side and let the two detectives into his place, watching Taylor’s every move, leering at her backside as she strode past him.
“Wow! I would like to have a sweet piece of that ass,” Nicky muttered.
“I’d watch what you’re saying, I’ve had a really shitty day, and that’s enough to get you lifted for a sexual breach, big fella,” Taylor said with an edge to her tone, leaving Nicky in no doubt she meant it, and he didn’t want any unnecessary attention.
“Was that a little lesson from your man on how to behave when out?” Nicky chuckled pointing to her bruised face, changing his approach to just being rude.
Taylor replied with a vicious stare, threatening him with her eyes not to go down that route.
Nicky sat down on his giant arm chair, covered with a large faux fur. He looked at the detectives and told them to take a seat, nodding his head towards the corner suite, large, black and leather, with reclining seats and numerous pillows, a 50 inch wide screen television on the wall and various other tasteless trinkets dotted around the living room.
“Look, I’ve told you everything I know, lady. She’s gone and she owes me a lot of cash, the little whore,” Nicky growled, obviously still pissed off at Layla’s premature departure. Taylor took into account that he actually seemed genuine. His anger at Layla for leaving without a word really seemed to grate on him, and it didn’t appear to Taylor that he had anything to do with her disappearance.
“Look, I know she was out on Halloween night, and one of the girls saw her at the end of the night and she said to her she was gonna turn a few more tricks cause the punters were out in force and paying good money that night. She saw her turn down towards the links, and she didn’t see her come back again after that.”
“What’s the girl’s name that saw her?” asked Marcus.
“Crystal. That’s what she’s known as. I don’t know much about her. I think she’s from the west coast,” Nicky replied.
“Layla hadn’t said anything to anyone that she was planning to leave, which suggests she may not have wanted to go. Everyone tells someone their plans.”
“She’s not taken any of her stuff, nothing. No make-up, underwear, cash - absolutely nowt!”
Taylor asked, “What about her passport? There’s dubiety as to whether you have it or she does, and that really tells a story of its own.”
Nicky’s expression changed, and it was noted by both of the detectives. They had an eye for deceit; body language was an invaluable tool in gleaning evidence from people, as was knowing when to push things that little bit further. Taylor decided to lead with how the issue would
be dealt with. “If you have the passport, that means that there is most definitely something more sinister to investigate here, and we were hoping she had just gone back to Poland. But if you have it, you better start telling the truth. We still have a missing girl on our hands and you would be our prime suspect if she doesn’t turn up! Help us out here Nicky. Don’t start obstructing us now or we will come down on you with everything we have, starting with a full forensic search of your flat and your detention for further questioning for as many hours as we can request. You’ll not be able to operate any longer. You won’t even be able to take a fucking piss without us knowing about it.”
“Okay, okay, I held her passport from her as security to get my share of her cash for protection and I still have it. I keep it at my mum’s house and it’s still there. I checked when she went missing but I’ll give it to you.”
Taylor looked at him, disgust in her face as he had just admitted preventing the girl leaving the country and forcing her to turn tricks for him to give him money. Taylor informed him that he would be getting charged for his admissions but confirmed that it was better than being in the frame for murder.
“Where does Crystal live?”
“She stays in the Magdalane area. I don’t know the address, I think it’s on the Drive. Just ask around, someone will know her. She’s on the junk and she’ll be out to get it on a regular basis.”
“Thanks for your help”, said Marcus. “Why didn’t you just say this in the bloody first place?”
“You’re under arrest,” chipped in Taylor. “You are not obliged to say anything in answer to your arrest, but anything you do say will be noted and may be used as evidence. Do you understand the caution?”
“Come on lady, is there any need?”
“Is that your reply to your arrest?” Taylor asked Nicky.
“Whatever!” he said in a defeated tone.
Taylor explained that they needed to take him to the station to take prints and DNA; lost opportunities for taking samples led to guilty people getting away with crimes on a regular basis. Who could tell what people had done in their past. There were stores and stores of evidence just waiting to find the right match as the future opened up all sorts of scientific opportunities for solving old cases.
“Let’s go! We’ll get the passport on the way to bottom out that line of enquiry.”
“I’m starving!” Marcus exclaimed.
“No wonder. You’ve had a long day, but this’ll take over an hour and then we’ll sort something out,” Taylor said with apologetic eyes.
Two hours later, Marcus and Taylor walked out of St Leonard’s police station, the main custody suite for prisoners arrested in the city. Fettes Headquarters did not have a cells complex. All the procedures had been completed and Nicky was let out and on his way to appear at court at a later date.
“Chinese, do you fancy some?”
“Yep, why not?” Taylor agreed; healthy food just didn’t cut it after a day like today.
Chapter 11: Recovering
Susan opened her eyes very slowly. There were three other beds in the brightly lit small ward and only one of them was occupied. An elderly woman lay motionless with many wires and tubes coming out of her. Susan thought to herself, poor soul, not even considering how badly injured she was herself. She attempted to sit up but her ribs crunched as she did so, the feeling of crepitus was agony as her bones grated against one another. She made a low whimpering sound as the pain was so intense and to make a louder one would have caused her even more pain. She looked down at her legs. They were bandaged and there was a cast on her left lower leg where her ankle had been broken and her ligaments twisted out of shape. Her knee was also in a brace as her knee ligaments, the cruciate and left medial, had both been torn as she twisted and struggled to get away from her attacker. She blinked again and realised that one of her eyes felt numb and she couldn’t see out of it. She cried out loudly, this time not in pain, but in fear of what he had done to her.
A nurse came rushing in and quickly embraced and comforted her by holding her gently and telling her that she was not alone and that she would be alright. She told Susan that she was a very brave woman and that she was in safe hands now and they wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Susan experienced a flash back to the attack and her body started shaking uncontrollably. Tears flooded from her eyes. “Why me, why me?” she sobbed, “I’ve never done anything to anyone, never hurt a soul. Why did he do this to me, why! Ouch, my chest feels like there has been a herd of elephants on it.”
“They had to open you up Susan. He sliced through the wall of your heart muscle, punctured your lung. How you survived is a miracle, but you’re okay now. CPR for 30 minutes will have also caused some bruising, my love. It will all heal in time and you will be strong again. You’ll have to stay with us for a while though, until you get your strength back.”
“What about my cat, Baxter! I have to get back for him. God, did they find him? Do you know if he’s okay? God, what if that man got hold of him. He’d have killed him.”
Wendy, the nurse, told her, “I believe the police found a cat in your house. Could that have been Baxter, unless you have other regular feline residents who utilise your facilities.”
“Where is he?”
“I think they put him in the cat and dog home for temporary accommodation.”
“Thank god, at least he’s safe. Imagine if that beast had got hold of him. When can I get to see my cat. I want to see him, I need to hold something.”
The doctor was doing her rounds and spoke confidently to Susan. “I’m so glad you’re on the mend, Susan. A couple of weeks and we’ll get a physiotherapist assigned to you to get that leg back into shape. It would have been sooner had we not had to take care of your chest first. We can’t have that put under any more unnecessary strain. We have a fine young chap lined up to take good care of you. His name is Andy Milne. He’s very good at what he does. You’ll be in safe hands with him. Oh, and he’s very patient, and handsome.” Dr Macgregor gave Susan a wee smile, her eyes filled with warmth and respect for her patient; she was well aware how hard the team had worked to save her, and just how strong her will to live must be. They exchanged a friendly smile and the doctor left the room.
Chapter 12: No Mistakes
A wintery night in February, John put several implements into his black rucksack to carry out his evening’s pleasures before leaving his house. He had carefully planned his route to the Dean area of Edinburgh, another affluent district, where only the wealthy and students in multi occupancy flats could afford to live. Anna Watt’s house was a three storey town house, probably worth £1.5 million, with ivy climbing up the outer walls. The rear garden was a haven for privacy, foliage and fencing preventing neighbours interrupting anyone wishing to commit a crime unnoticed. The time was 11.35pm and the house was now in complete darkness. He had been a standing in the rear garden for over two hours watching Anna go about her daily business. He located the phone wire and cut it, having made sure that Anna hadn’t been alerted that there may be a problem if she made a last minute call before bed. Eventually the lights had gone out about 11pm, and he gave her enough time to slip into a deep sleep, hoping to avoid being heard as he broke in at the rear kitchen window as quietly and efficiently as he could.
Unfortunately, Anna was not asleep; she was lying in her bed reading with a small bedside lamp on. Her bedroom was to the rear. Thick winter curtains draped the windows preventing the light escaping outwards into the garden. John’s footsteps were light on the ornate tiled floor, his shoes rubber soled to prevent any unnecessary noise. The kitchen was large and modern with an Aga stove and central breakfast bar, which he almost walked right into. The room was dark and he daren’t use a torch in case he disturbed his quarry, which he thought lay asleep unaware of his presence beneath her. He carried on making his way through the luxurious house to the front, where he assumed the stairs would be. The floors were polished and immaculate, which caused his shoe to g
ive a light squeak as he turned to grip the solid oak banister as he took his first step up the stairs.
The hair on the back of Anna’s neck rose up like flowers in the morning sun. However, this was no pleasant moment. She listened hard, straining to hear the noise again. Her heart hammered in her chest and a trickle of sweat appeared on her temple as she rose from her bed almost levitating, all of her senses screaming out danger.
He stood absolutely still at the bottom of the stairs, also listening, wondering if he had woken her. Anna was upstairs and he downstairs, both of them trying not to breathe, straining to catch the other moving. Anna tried to convince herself that she had just heard the house creaking as it cooled, with the warmth subsiding, but her true animal instinct told her to be frightened, and only a fool ignores nature’s tools of fight or flight. Now convinced there was someone in her house, her mind flashed to her phone, holy shit, I left it in the hallway. “FUCK!” she whispered to herself.
His head tilted to the side as he heard movement up above him and he knew that one twist of fate had given his prey the upper hand. He moved up the stairs quickly, three at a time, quiet but now not worried about making a noise. He knew she knew he was there and now he had to minimise the damage caused by his clumsy movement. He pondered for a moment. Should he leave now and cut his losses just in case she’d got word out? He could always choose another fair lady. No, no way, she’s mine! No other rich bitch will make me look a fool again.
Anna gripped herself round her waist as she tucked herself into the middle walk-in cupboard behind her collection of coats and suits. In her hand, she clasped a small baton that she kept beneath the bed. Her hand was shaking as she could hear whatever was in her house making its way towards her like a wild beast closing in on its quarry. She held her breath as the footsteps slowly approached, tears in her eyes, her mind full of thoughts of what had happened to the poor woman who was attacked in her own home last month. God no, please no. Don’t let it be him. John entered the room and turned on the light; he knew she knew he was there, and that he was going to kill her; he knew she would see his face and he would make sure she would not live to tell anyone about it. With the lights on he would find her more quickly and that would unnerve her and frighten her that little bit more. She won’t want to see my face. She might think I’ll let her live if she has nothing to tell, silly girl. A grin appeared on his face, cruel and unfeeling. He was enjoying the thought of her fear.
