by Jay Nadal
“Like what?”
“Girls … women … slags … whores … they want it,” he said with a sickening smile, that exposed his yellow-stained teeth.
“What do they want Robert?” Scott asked.
“They want sex … they want to be fucked ... they want me to abuse them,” he replied closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. The words alone were stimulating his mind and his senses.
Scott flicked on his phone and opened the video that he’d taken of the video clips on Shaw’s phone, he turned the screen and pressed play. He had Shaw’s attention now. The silence in the room cut short with the piercing cries and screams of a girl, please stop … please … What followed were further guttural screams as the video played out the systematic torture of Libby Stephens.
Abby closed her eyes for a few moments. She tried desperately to shield out the images that she’d seen earlier in Shaw’s house. The video of Libby Stephens spread-eagled, naked, face down over a beer keg. Her wrists secured with chains attached to the wall, Gashi forcibly inserting the chair leg in between her legs. The sight of blood trailing down the insides of her legs sent a cold shiver once again through Abby’s body as she tightly gripped her thighs under the table.
Scott desperately wanted to switch off the phone; he had no particular inclination to put himself through this again. Even though bile hit the back of his throat once again, he needed to stay steadfast; he needed to break this man for Libby’s sake as much as his own,
As the video continued, laughter rang out from those present in the cellar that taunted her and egged on Gashi to inflict more pain on the defenceless girl as her screams mixed with bouts of painful crying. The extra encouragement fuelled Gashi’s rage, as he viciously pulled out Libby’s fingernails one by one to a background of a chilling screams that turned Scott’s stomach. She was fourteen, just fourteen for fuck sake.
Her constant pleas fell on deaf ears, I promise I won’t say anything was all she could muster, before she slipped into unconsciousness. The chair leg crashed down on her skull, a dull crack, the final act that silenced her, ending her misery … ending her life.
“How did you come to have that chair leg in your possession?” Scott said, his voice controlled but tinged with anger.
Whilst the video had been playing, Shaw’s eyes were firmly closed. A slight smile on his face suggested he’d no doubt been playing back the whole scene in his mind, a scene that was clearly enjoyable in Shaw’s twisted mind.
“Gashi asked me to get rid of the evidence. I took her to the marina and slung her over the wall.”
“If he asked you to get rid of the evidence, why did you still you have in your possession the chair leg and her tongue, I assume it’s her tongue?”
Shaw nodded, “I kept them as souvenirs, presents for me, something that reminds me of a very enjoyable experience.” He paused from moment, pulling on some more memories, “She had a lovely soft skin, small firm tits, they were lovely to touch.” Shaw was breathing hard; his eyes closed once again as he licked his lips, fantasies taking him into a different world that stirred his perverse senses.
Scott had come across many people whilst doing the job, but this vile predator ranked amongst the worst. He was getting off recalling the memories.
“Who else was present?”
Shaw pauses for a moment, resting his chin on his hand, “Me, the landlord, Gashi, and two other blokes I didn’t know, they were associates of Gashi.”
“And Christine Newland? How did her blood end up on the chair leg?” Scott asked.
Shaw shook his head slowly and smiled. “She was a very silly woman. She came to warn me off.”
His statement piqued Scott’s curiosity, “To warn you off?”
Shaw laughed, the smell of the stale breath racing across a table and assaulting Scott’s nostrils. “I was supposed to be meeting her girl Lucy. Then she turned up, telling me to stay away from her daughter, and that she would report me to the police. She called me a filthy pervert … she couldn’t get away with saying that could she? That’s not a nice thing to say when I was going to show Lucy a good time.”
“So you’re Johnny?”
“Yeah, it was easy to hide behind Johnny. I knew if anyone found out about the conversation, they would think it’s Johnny Wright. I would get away with it,” he proudly said.
“So what happened next?”
“She tried to punch me, she was swearing, telling me to stay away, so I hit … I hit her fucking hard and she went down. I went back to the van, got my Stanley knife and the chair leg. I hit her over the head … hard ... then kept hitting her. Boy her head was smashed in big time. She stopped breathing. But she looked fine, just like her daughter, a real good looker. Proper MILF. She turned me on, gave me a right hard on as I touched her. Her hair smelt fresh, her perfume … hhmm. She had big breasts, big nipples … So I took them.”
Chapter 23
It had been a late night by the time Scott crawled in. He’d stayed late at his desk. With the door closed, the sanctuary of his office gave him the space to process what he’d heard in the proceeding hour. His mind was spinning after the Shaw interview. He was wired, angry and frustrated. He sat there gazing hypnotically at one spot on the wall, his fists clenched, and his lips nothing but a thin line, firmly shut. Scott couldn’t recall the last time an interviewee had got to him so much. The man was pure evil.
He’d given Cara a miss, cancelling her at the last minute. Tired and hungry, he’d managed a few slices of toast spread with copious amounts of marmalade before sleep took hold of him.
Light was streaming in around the edges of the curtains in the lounge as Scott slowly stirred. An uncomfortable night on the sofa with a sore neck was a price he paid for not making it to his bed.
Tiredness faded, as he soaked in the shower. The water washed away the sleep and grime. The house seemed quiet in Cara’s absence. Scott had been looking forward to seeing her, he enjoyed her company, she brought a smile to his face. Cara was affecting him more than he realised. Her laughter filled the air. There was something else about her personality that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he loved it anyway. She was vibrant, infectious and fun. That was it. She was fun to be around, and in the short space of time that he’d got to know her, it felt right.
***
Scott pulled into Freshfield Way and parked up behind Sian’s blue Astra. Raj had taken the first watch yesterday, with Sian doing the graveyard shift with Mike. Neither got out of their cars, for fear of being seen. Scott chose instead to talk to them over the police radio.
“Anything to report, guys?”
Sian replied in a groggy, tired voice, “Nope, not a sausage, until about an hour ago when a white van drove up and down the road three times. It hasn’t come back.”
“Okay, I’ll take over. Abby will be here in a few minutes with some coffees. You and Mike clock off.”
“Think Mike’s already beaten you to it, he’s practically asleep. The lazy git.”
This part of the job was something that Scott rarely enjoyed. The waiting. The not knowing. TV programmes and films had glamorised stakeouts with shootouts, fights, and high-speed car chases that left a trail of destruction across a city, but they were anything but. It usually meant hours of waiting around, often with nothing to show for it, unless it was an intelligence-led operation. That wasn’t always the case. They’d had more than their fair share of mind-numbing hours waiting around in cars in the middle of winter, hands and feet chilled to the bone.
The coffees were a welcome distraction, whilst various goods vehicles trundled in or out of the industrial estate.
Over the course of the next hour, they sat in silence, just watching, playing the occasional round of I Spy. Abby invariably won due to picking the most abstract objects like hubcap, yellow parking sign, and a MacDonald’s food wrapper that whipped around the floor caught in the back draft of passing vehicles. Scott couldn’t help but notice that Abby was furiously tapping away on h
er phone keypad for a few seconds before looking up and staring off into the distance. It was a pattern she kept repeating for the few minutes he was watching.
“What on earth are you doing?” he asked.
She laughed. “It’s a crossword app, can’t think of anything better to do, so I might as well do this.”
Scott raised a brow, “Small things please small minds.”
“Stop talking about yourself like that, besides you couldn’t do this even if you tried!”
“Try me,” he challenged.
“Okay clever clogs, here’s a couple I’m stuck on. Twenty one across, six letters, bungle, starting with F and the fourth letter is L.”
Scott though for a moment, tapping the steering wheel with his finger. “Foul-up.”
Abby growled to herself, “Fluke.” Determined to catch him out, “Nine down, eight letters, reason for sneezing. Third letter is Y, last letter is R.”
A few seconds later “Hayfever," he offered.
Abby sighed loudly, “I hate you!” Resolute on finding one he couldn’t figure out, she rapidly scanned her unanswered questions once again. “One across, user’s treatment, five letters, ending with B.”
“Rehab,” he fired back.
Abby threw the phone onto the dashboard in defeat, “Do you know, you’re far too clever for your own good!”
Scott had a smug grin on his face, cementing the victory by licking the tip of his finger and chalking it in the air. “Some have it, some don’t.” He replied brushing each shoulder with the fingers of opposing hand in victory.
Abby sulked, her arms crossed in defiance. “So how’s it going with scalpel woman … I mean Cara?”
“It’s going good. Thanks for the lack genuine interest. We seem to get on really well.”
“Going good … Or going really good?” Abby teased given Scott a wink.
“Yeah. wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Yes I would, as I’m not getting any at the moment.”
“Listen, the sooner you get yourself a man, the quicker you’ll stop asking me questions about my love life. So flipping well get out there and find someone.”
“You make it sound as if I can just click my fingers, and the man of my dreams will suddenly appear in a puff of smoke in front of me.”
Scott knew that Abby would much rather make a joke of a situation than admit how she really felt. “Come on; tell the Love Doctor what’s holding you back.”
That in itself provoked a smile and chuckle from Abby. “Love Doctor … hhmm, not sure about that.”
“I’m waiting.”
“I guess I’m scared. Meeting someone would mean so much of my life would change. I’ve spent the last couple years on my own and got used to it. I have no one else to worry about except me and the kids. And let’s be honest, how many people outside of the job really understand the nature of our job? I’m a copper, we are the job. We’d be passing ships in the night. The early shifts, the late shifts, the countless hours we stay long after our shifts have finished. Then you go home and you still have work stuff going on inside your head. In the little spare time I do have, I’ve got the chores, the kids, and I’ve got to get to the gym. I’d be a bloody nightmare to live with. And I’m not sure if I want all the aggro again.”
“Well a quote that I once had in a Chinese fortune cookie said ‘If you don’t try you’ll never know,’ which makes sense to me."
“Chinese fortune cookie, my ass.”
“Listen I’m not giving you a hard time, and I know I’m your boss, but I’m talking to you as a friend. Take some action, get your profile up on Match.com and see what happens. Stop making bloody excuses.”
“Yes, you can just imagine the weirdos on there when they find out I’m a copper. ‘You going to wear your uniform for me, luv?’ ‘You can cuff me to the bed any time,’ ‘You show me your truncheon and I’ll show you mine,’ and that’s just for starters,” she replied, doing her best impersonation of a deep male voice.
The conversation stalled to an uneasy and awkward silence as Abby turned to look out of the window in deep thought. She knew Scott was talking sense. It was her own demons and that niggling voice in her head that were causing her to procrastinate and put her love life on hold.
The silence was broken when Scott nudged Abby in the ribs. “Looks like we got company,” he indicated nodding forward.
About 200 yards further down the street, two transit vans had come to a stop. They had parked tail to tail but with enough space for their rear doors to open. Both occupants got out greeting each other with a handshake before looking around nervously, casting the occasional glance at the occupants of any cars or vehicles that passed them.
They both began to open their rear cargo doors. Scott thought they had created convenient corridor between the two vans to allow them to exchange their merchandise away from prying eyes.
Scott and Abby were now sitting bolt upright with Scott switching on his engine. The waiting paid off. “You ready?”
A nod from Abby the only confirmation he needed.
Scott put the car in gear and accelerated quickly towards the vans stopping nose to nose with one of the vans ensuring it couldn’t move. Abby was already out the door and running, with Scott a few paces behind.
“Police! Stay where you are!” Abby shouted as she came round one side of the vans, with Scott taking the other side. He thought they’d try to run, or put up a fight, but they didn’t. It was too easy. Something wasn’t right.
The two drivers froze with each raising their arms up in surrender a little too comfortably. Scott grabbed one man whilst Abby grabbed the other, forcibly giving each man a swift kick behind the knees causing them both to collapse to the ground. It gave the officers a small advantage, given them adequate time to cuff the suspects.
It was only when Abby and Scott glanced in each van that the simplicity of the arrest dawned on them. The vans were empty.
They’d been stitched up.
Chapter 24
Scott stormed into his office throwing his police radio on the desk and thumping the top of his chair. “They had us. They knew we were onto them. They set the whole thing up and made us look like a right set of muppets!”
Abby was leaning in his doorway her arms folded. “It happens Guv, it’s not the first time we’ve had the run-around. If you think about it, we have most of the key players in this trafficking and prostitution ring, so is not surprising they knew we were on their trail.”
Scott knew that Abby was making perfect sense, but it didn’t stop him feeling a degree of frustration at the wasted man-hours over the last twenty-four hours. This wasn’t the only case that his team had to deal with, but he’d prioritised his resources based on the likelihood of a successful outcome. He would now have to go and justify this to DCI Harvey. Something he wasn’t looking forward to.
***
The DCI had just come out of a meeting with the superintendent when she saw Scott hovering by her door. She walked passed him and with a nod, invited him in.
“So what went wrong?” She said leaning back in her chair resting her arms on the armrests. She was staring at Scott, the only hint to her annoyance, her furrowed brows.
“We got stitched up. Plain and simple. Gashi knows we’re on to him and this was him sticking two fingers up at us. We’re playing a wild goose chase, Ma’am,” Scott sighed. He was still standing in the DCI’s office, which made him feel even more uncomfortable. On most occasions she would offer him a seat. But he was always left standing when she was angry.
The DCI pause for a moment, pursing her lips as she weighed up their options. “Listen Scott, yes I agree it was a waste of time. However, I get the impression that Gashi is a very shrewd operator. Have you considered the fact that this morning was a deliberate diversion?”
“Diversion?”
The DCI nodded. “Yes, a diversion to take our resources away from what he was really doing. If he was desperate enough to put on a diversion this mor
ning, it means he’s running scared and knows we’re on his tail and closing in. From what I can gather, the Manchester contact has just gone to ground. We have no intelligence to suggest he’s here in Brighton or making his way to Brighton … Agreed?” She said holding her hands in front of her whilst her elbows rested on the armrests.
Scott had to agree with her hypotheses. “So it’s plausible to think that Gashi still has Jenna Wade and Rishi Mehta in his possession.”
“Exactly. They’re his prized assets at the moment. They could also be his bargaining tool … his get out of jail card, so to speak, if he gets hemmed into a corner. We need to find him, and you know exactly where you can get the information from,” she said raising a brow.
***
Scott briefly popped back to his desk to gather his case files ahead of another interview with Robert Shaw. Whilst he’d been in with the DCI, several emails had arrived in his inbox. The first was from Tim Coburn, the forensic computer examiner. He was informing Scott that useful information had been recovered from all the laptops, including the most recent one from Robert Shaw. Scott decided that he would take a detour and stop by his desk on the way down to the interview suite.
The other email that piqued his interest was from the forensic unit. They had rushed through analysis on the evidence from Robert Shaw’s property. As Scott scrolled further down the email the evidence clearly highlighted the depravity of the man.
The first bit of analysis confirmed that following DNA swabs taken from Robert Shaw, DNA profiling confirmed a match between Shaw’s DNA and the semen traces found in the crunched up knickers. Scott shrugged at this news and guessed that would have been the case anyway.
The rest of the email was far more pertinent to his investigation. DNA profiling had confirmed that the tongue found in the coffee jar belonged to Libby Stevens. Forensics also confirmed that the other human body parts found in the coffee jar were indeed nipples. DNA profiling confirmed a match with Christine Newland.
