by M A Comley
Vile bloody creature. I hope your wife gives you hell when you get home. If I was married to you… yeah, the likelihood of that would be zilch, I would have throttled you years ago.
Her eyes were drawn back to the main entrance of the pub, her mind now rid of the interruption, her focus one hundred percent returned to the job in hand.
Her pulse raced. She hated hanging around for people, even if they were only a few minutes late. The door opened, and a man shouted farewell to Amanda Smith. The brunette left the pub and walked in her direction, or should that be tottered in her higher-than-average heels?
Jesus, they must be at least five inches. Has she worked all night in those? Or changed into them before she left the pub? Does it frigging matter?
She set the questions aside in her mind and waited until the woman was close enough to attack. Libby’s hand was poised on the door handle, and she was ready to burst out of hiding at a moment’s notice. Another few feet and she’d walk into the trap Libby had set for her. Amanda came to a stop at the boot of her car, her eye drawn to something lying by the passenger door. She peered over her shoulder to check no one was around before she made her move.
Amanda dashed the final couple of steps and bent to pick up the ten-pound note from the ground. Libby had stuck it down with Blu-Tack to prevent the wind from whisking it away. Libby held her nerve and then struck. Bam! She opened her car door—it connected with force, with Amanda’s head. Libby slipped out of the car, dressed all in black for what she had in mind. The woman was slumped on the ground. Libby raced to the boot, opened it and returned to Amanda. It took all her strength to lift the woman, who was a good twenty pounds heavier than Jennifer to shift. She made a mental note to add more weights to her bar when she worked out later.
Libby threw Amanda in the boot, a small groan escaping the woman’s mouth as she dropped the lid. Then Libby ran around the car, jumped in the driver’s seat and drove out of the car park before anyone else left the pub. She’d been staking out the place for a few weeks, noting Amanda’s routine and what happened after she finished work. Libby was aware no one left the pub after the barmaid, at least they hadn’t in all the time she’d been on patrol.
She drove back to the lockup sporting a huge grin, pleased with her successful mission to capture yet another one. Two down, only three more to grab, and then the fun can begin. Maybe I’ll up my workload and snatch two of them tomorrow. I’ll check my notes when I get home later and see if it’s feasible. It would definitely make my life easier if I could collect them quicker. She mulled the idea over in her mind until she reached the location. Concentrate on the task in hand. I need to keep my wits about me in case one of them tries anything stupid.
She opened the boot and stared at the woman curled up in a ball. Cautiously, she prodded her in the back to see if there was any reaction. There was none. She remained vigilant and hoisted the woman’s body out of the car. Libby inspected Amanda’s face thoroughly, searching for any sign of consciousness. When she found none, she slammed down the door and made her way to the front of the building. Key in hand, she pushed the squeaking door open and kicked it shut behind her once she’d carried Amanda over the threshold.
Libby felt the woman stir in her arms. She upped her pace. Arriving at the entrance to the cells, she opened the door, keeping one eye ahead of her and the other on the stirring woman. A few more steps and… Suddenly Amanda lashed out. Libby was unprepared; she dropped the woman. Amanda landed on her feet but staggered, still dazed from the bang she’d received to her head. Her hand touched her temple in confusion.
“What the hell? Who are you? What are you doing to me?”
Libby pounced on Amanda and punched her in the face, hard enough to knock her out again. Her energy sapped, she dragged Amanda to the cell next door to Jennifer’s and threw her on the thin mattress. She’d already put a bottle of water in the cell, ready for when she woke. Apart from the buckets, one for washing, the other for peeing in, the cell would be empty.
Amanda stirred once more. “Where…? What…? Who are you? No, you can’t do this to me. I won’t let you.” Amanda tried to get to her feet, but her attempt faltered at the first base, and she slumped back, groaning and holding her hands on either side of her head.
“Succumb to it, Amanda. All will be revealed soon enough, then the games will begin.” Libby laughed and left the cell. She closed the door and peered through the peephole to observe her new acquisition. Amanda’s movements were juddery at best. Her limbs flaying as she tried to grab hold of something that would help her to sit upright. There was nothing available, Libby wasn’t that foolish. She’d thought long and hard about the needs of the women and also what not to put in the cells, mainly anything which could be used as a weapon against her, if the women tried to strike out.
Amanda’s frustration showed through her tears. She sobbed and curled into the foetal position on her makeshift bed. Libby laughed and moved to the next cell. She peered in to see Jennifer staring at her from her bed.
“You have a cellmate now. So there’s no need for you to feel so lonely.” She laughed again and then left the lockup. Libby drove back to her three-bedroom semi. As soon as she arrived, she completed an hour’s session in her well-designed gym on the ground floor. By the end of her workout, she was sweating like the proverbial pig and smelt like one, too. She jumped in the shower and made herself a quick cheese and pickle sandwich and then hopped into bed. Instead of falling asleep right away, she contemplated her next move. Switching the light back on, she dug under her pillow for her notebook and flicked through to find the relevant page. The next two victims’ names were prominently written at the top of the page. She refreshed her memory with their individual schedules, and a plan soon formulated in her tired mind. A plan that in the end, kept her awake until the early hours. After that, she fell asleep only to wake at four, soaked in sweat due to the nightmare she’d had. The same nightmare she’d suffered for the past eighteen to twenty years; it was hard to pinpoint exactly when they had started. Although she knew the circumstances all too well. She sighed heavily and swiped the stray tears away, annoyed by their existence. In her opinion, tears were a sign of weakness, and she was anything but weak these days. Once upon a time, she had been perceived as weak to some… But no one could label her as such now.
She had a strength she’d worked exceptionally hard to develop. Adapting her life to work out, to gain the strength and power to obtain a clear goal in her life. She was almost there now. Another few days, and all the pieces of the puzzle would be in place. All her ducks in a row and the five women who had ruined her life for years, all sitting behind bars wondering what the fuck was about to happen to them. Then, and only then, would she feel a sense of achievement. And then, the games could begin…
3
Sara drove into work with an ominous feeling gnawing at her insides. She hated it when that happened, there was no rhyme or reason for it, not yet, not this early into an investigation. She tried hard to shrug the sensation off during her journey but failed.
Jeff greeted her with a weary smile as she entered the station. “Morning, DI Ramsey, how are you today?”
“I’m okay, Jeff. What’s with the long face and the dimmed smile? Something up?”
“You’ll see for yourself very soon.”
“That’s a bit vague, even for you. Come on, let’s hear it.”
He shook his head. “Nope, I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”
“Hmm… now you’ve got me worried. Is it to do with the case we’re working at present?”
“Nope. Guess again, although saying that, I wouldn’t mind having a word in your shell-like about something that is bugging me.”
“Okay, first things first. What surprise is awaiting me upstairs?”
“If I told you that, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”
Sara was getting the impression the surprise awaiting her wasn’t going to be a welcome one. Setting that aside for the time
being, she asked, “What about the case? What’s bugging you about it?”
“Well, as you know, I always check through the overnight reports first thing in the morning.”
“I do. You’re amazing, not everyone thinks to do that. Has something occurred that I should know about?”
“Possibly. I’ve made a note to run it past you. Let me fish out the report.”
Sara tapped her foot while he went off to find the paperwork. He returned a few seconds later and read from the sheet of paper.
“This came in around one this morning from a Roderick Adams. He was reporting his fiancée, Amanda Smith, as a missing person. Beside himself, he is, apparently.”
“Hmm… and you think there could be a link to our investigation? Missing people are frequently reported, Jeff, I don’t have to remind you about that, do I?”
“No, ma’am. But this feels different. Maybe it’s me talking out of my large backside, but you know nine times out of ten this job is about gut reaction.”
“I do. All right, if it will make you feel better, we’ll look into it.”
“I know you have to officially wait twenty-four hours, but I also know when something doesn’t feel right.”
“I’m on it. Now, going back to this surprise you mentioned.”
He shook his head. “Maybe surprise is the wrong word. My lips are sealed. You’ll see soon.”
“It’s sounding more and more unpromising by the second, Jeff. Go on, give me a hint.”
The phone rang on his desk. He glanced at it and then back at Sara. “Saved by the bell.”
She snatched up the report and punched her number into the security keypad which opened up to the inner sanctum. She suddenly feared what awaited her as her legs reluctantly carried her upstairs. All became clear the instant she pushed open the door to the incident room. The team all had their heads down, working. No one bothered to glance up and say good morning; that in itself was rare and put her on the back foot immediately. She walked a few steps and stopped at Carla’s desk. Her partner buried her head deeper into the paperwork she was holding. Sara hooked a finger under Carla’s chin, forcing her to look up at her.
Sara gasped, her legs turning into a wobbling mess beneath her at the sight of her partner’s colourful face. Black and blue around both eyes, and her nose was split at the top. “Jesus, fucking… right, in my office, lady. Now.”
Sara swallowed down the bile burning her throat. What the fuck am I going to say to her? If I speak out about Gary she’s only going to tell me I’m biased towards him. But what the bloody hell… he had no right mistreating her this way. What a fucking animal he is!
Sara flung open the door to her office. It hit the wall behind and rebounded, catching her on the arm. “Shit!” She glanced behind her to ensure Carla was following. She was. Sara paced the area beside her desk until her partner entered the room. “Sit down.”
“Don’t start, Sara, or should I call you boss when you’re about to give me a bollocking?”
“Fuck off, Carla. This is between you and me. Nothing official, not yet.”
Carla threw herself into the chair. Her hands covered her face, and her shoulders jigged up and down as the sobs broke free.
Sara wrenched the door open and shouted, “Christine, two coffees, if you will. I’ll reimburse you later.”
“Coming right up, boss.”
She slammed the door shut again. “Don’t say a word until I get some caffeine down me. Scratch that. Answer me this, are you okay? Apart from the bloody obvious.”
Carla inhaled a shuddering breath. “I think so. Be gentle with me. I couldn’t stand it if you wiped the floor with me.”
“I won’t, I promise. Oh God, I fear I’m about to break my promise to you. I can’t sit back and ignore this, love.”
The door opened, and Christine entered the room. She placed the cups on the table and squeezed Carla’s shoulder on the way out. Once the door was shut behind her, Sara sat in her chair and stared at her partner across the mound of brown envelopes screeching out for her attention.
“Go easy on me, Sara. I don’t want to fall out with you over this.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You’re not telling me you’re going to forgive him, again?”
Carla’s chin hit her chest, and her hands dropped into her lap. “He’s ill.”
“Jesus! No way, Carla, don’t let him get away with it, not again. If he truly loved you, he’d worship the ground you walked on, not try to beat you to a pulp. Surely you don’t need me to tell you that, love. Come on, think about this rationally.”
“I am. This is my fault. I provoked him.”
“Bollocks. Don’t you dare sit there and tell me that. Even if you did, he should have enough willpower in him to not lash out with his fists. Shitting hell, have you seen the state of your face?”
“No. I refused to look at my reflection. Maybe I should have rung in sick today.”
“What? And spend the day at home with that lunatic? No, you’re better off with us here. Jesus, you need to see a doctor. I’m going to arrange for the duty doc to come and see you.”
Carla reached out a hand to try to prevent her making the call, but she winced at the movement. Sara leapt out of her chair and ran around the desk. Before Carla had a chance to realise what was going on, Sara untucked Carla’s blouse swiftly and lifted it. There, the bruises matched the ones on Carla’s face. “Fucking hell. Look at you! I can’t, no, I won’t ignore this, Carla, and neither should you.”
“It’s so hard. You don’t understand.”
“I understand Gary is nothing but a flagrant bully. An abusive man who needs to be pulled over the coals, sweetheart. Please, don’t stick up for him. This has nothing to do with him being ill. Shame on him for blaming his foul mood on his accident and the damage it left him to deal with day in, day out. Jesus, if you let him get away with this… well, it’s going to say more about you than him. Do you seriously want people to think of you as being a weak female? Women have been fighting decades for equality in this life, and you’re sitting there telling me that you’re prepared to take the punishment he persists inflicting on you without objection. If you do that, you’re seriously going to go down in my estimation, love.”
“If you’ll let me get a word in…”
Sara stepped back, perched on the edge of her desk and crossed her arms. “I’m all ears. Make it good, Carla.”
Her partner remained silent for a while, her head still in the same defeated position which Sara was thankful for; that way she wouldn’t need to hold back the vomit if she was forced to see the damage to Carla’s beautiful face.
“Carla? Speak to me,” she prompted softly.
“I can’t find the words I want to express. I feel numb right now. Numb and, I don’t know how else to describe what I’m going through. I’m aware how weak you think I am. I can’t prevent you thinking that of me. All I can do is give you my perspective of life living with someone who used to be a hundred percent fit and now is slightly incapacitated.”
Sara lifted a hand to prevent her from saying anything else. “Let me point out a word you just used before you continue.”
Carla raised her head and tilted it, looking confused. “What’s that?”
“Slightly incapacitated, not fully, only slightly. From what you’ve told me in the last few months, he’s virtually back to full fitness, so please, please don’t insult my intelligence by making excuses for this vile abuser.”
Carla’s eyes closed, and she shook her head. “Don’t call him one of those.”
“Why not? If you had bothered to look at your reflection this morning, you would have seen for yourself what a bloody mess your face is in.”
“But he loves me.”
Sara tipped her head back and growled. “He loves to beat you. Why can’t you see that for yourself?”
Silence.
“Carla, talk to me.”
“I can’t because we view things differently. I love hi
m, I can see the good side in him that others fail to see.”
Sara covered her eyes with one hand, then let it slip down her face until it was resting on her chin. “I don’t know what to say to make you see sense.”
“Don’t try.”
“I should send you home but I’m afraid to. Afraid to put you back there in the firing line. Tell me this, has he shown any form of remorse?”
“No,” she replied without hesitation.
Sara flung an arm in the air, got to her feet and marched around her desk. “Bloody hell. I don’t know what more I can say to you. Apart from this: if ever a man laid his fist on me, he wouldn’t be frigging alive to brag about his triumphs, he’d be rotting in an unmarked grave, probably buried at sea, where the fish could feed off his miserable body.”
“That’s where we differ, obviously. I see his lashing out as a cry for help.”
Sara groaned. “Seriously? And when we’ve dealt with women who have been knocked around by their fellas, are you telling me you’ve always felt sorry for the abuser?”
“No. That’s different. They’re strangers. Everyone’s relationship is different. Mine happens to be complex.”
“Complex? Jesus, in that case, the sooner you get professional help for your wayward thoughts the better.”
“That’s a bit harsh, even for you, Sara.”
“In my opinion, it’s the truth. No matter what I say, you’re still going to stick up for him. I’m wasting my breath, I can tell I am. I’ve never said this to anyone before, Carla, but, my girl, you need to wake up. Look ahead, see where this could end up. I fear for you. You need to put your foot down now and end this abuse before…”
“Go on, don’t stop there.”
“Before you either end up in hospital or worse still, in a bloody mortuary. Because believe me, one day he’ll attack you and not know when to stop.”
“He won’t. I won’t let it go that far.”
Sara stared at her partner and shook her head. “You really believe you’ll be able to prevent him going all the way, don’t you?”
