by David Menon
‘So it’s right that the adoption didn’t go through official channels?’
Jennifer looked momentarily at Emily before answering. She wasn’t used to seeing Asian women in authority. The people around her in Lytham all looked like her. She hadn’t even seen any police officers or fire fighters or doctors with Asian looks. She didn’t think it mattered though. Some of those she’d lived alongside in the sheltered housing were of the opinion that the country was letting in too many of what they called the wrong sort, which was basically anybody who wasn’t from the UK or Ireland. Jennifer didn’t think that though. She’d make friends with anybody from anywhere. Besides, how could she possibly judge anybody else when she came from the kind of family she did?
‘Yes, it was a private deal’ said Jennifer. ‘My baby was taken away from me and then traded like some sort of commodity. You see, they think that because they hid me away I somehow wouldn’t read anything or work anything out for myself. Well I read all the papers, including the local ones. I know about stocks and shares that are used to keep all the little people as little as they can whilst the big people get richer. That’s what I was. I was made to be a little person by the big people who had all the control over me. And my baby was used, as I say, as a commodity’.
‘What did they do to you, Jennifer?’ asked Ben. ‘And more importantly, why?’ He watched as the expression on Jennifer’s face changed. Something changed in her eyes too. It was like she was going back to a place where all her demons were screaming at her with a relentless rage. But she’d prepared herself. She’d always known that in this modern world of social media and 24hour news it wouldn’t all remain a secret forever. It would have to come out eventually. And it looked like that was now.
‘They made me up and everything. I looked just like my friend at school who did child modelling. Except I wasn’t modelling. My friend lives in Milan now and is married to an Italian photographer. They’ve got three most beautiful boys. They send me cards and pictures every Christmas. I have no idea what that kind of life might feel like’.
‘What kind of life, Jennifer?’
‘Well the kind where you meet a man in the normal course of life and get married and have children’ she answered. ‘I was destined not to experience that from the very start and I was damaged goods even before I was in my teens. And I had a difficult birth with Nick. I was only thirteen. But it meant that I’d never be able to have any more children. Not that any man would ever have come anywhere near me after what had happened to me’.
‘Jennifer, why did Nick move you from Lytham to his place in Manchester?’
‘Well he wanted me to tell him everything’.
‘About what?’
‘About all of those who were responsible for making me the way I am’ said Jennifer. ‘He wanted me to give him the names of all the men who raped me and if they had any daughters’.
‘Why only daughters?’
‘Because he wanted them to pay for what had been done to me’.
‘Who? The fathers or the daughters?’
‘The daughters because it would also make them understand just how dastardly their fathers had been which would in turn cause pain to their father’ Jennifer explained. ‘Nick had it all worked out and he said I’d be more comfortable in the city with him’.
‘Jennifer, just what was Nick planning to do to make these daughters pay?’
‘Well I don’t know. He just said he wanted them all to pay for what they’d done to me. You see, they stitched it all up between them. When I started to fight back against being raped and threatened to tell anybody who would listen about what had been happening, that’s when Dr. Franklin certified me and had me put in the sanatorium’.
‘Jennifer, was Ronald Hermitage one of the men who raped you?’
‘Yes, he was’ Jennifer replied. ‘My father and his associates were all much higher up the social ladder than Ronald who they used to use to do their dirty work for them. They all thought I didn’t have eyes and ears but I did. Even after endless periods of those electric shocks I could still see what was going on even though I’ll always believe that it was the shocks that turned my head into jelly’.
Doors of thoughts were opening up inside Barton’s head. Discounting Karina Kowalewski the pattern was emerging of Nick Eades taking his ultimate revenge out on the daughters of those who’d so badly damaged the mother he’d been denied knowing for so many years and he wondered if something else happened in his childhood to make him react with such violence? The trigger for murdering women in such a brutal way couldn’t have just been about revenge for his mother? He could’ve gone to court for that. There must’ve been something else that made him want to strike back with such viciousness.
‘Jennifer, you may not want to answer this but I‘m sure you’ll understand why I have to ask it’ Ben began as delicately as he could. ‘Do you know who Nick’s father is?’
Before Jennifer had the chance to answer, DCI Wright knocked on the door and asked to speak to Barton who went outside into the corridor where Wright informed him that there’d been an incident outside the flat of Rosie Franklin.
‘What kind of incident?’ Barton asked with a sense of dread rising inside him.
‘Sir, constable Theresa Muldoon had just arrived at the flat ahead of our protection squad when she saw Rosie Franklin being driven off in a car by Nick Eades’.
‘Well did Muldoon say what kind of state Rosie Franklin was in?’
‘She said the car was moving too fast and she didn’t realise until it was too late. And there’s something else, sir’.
‘Go on?’
‘Vanessa Hermitage’s boyfriend Lance Parkin died in hospital ten minutes ago’.
SEVENTEEN
Callum had been trying to sleep but he had no idea whether it was day or night. He’d almost forgotten just how long he’d been down there but it felt like an eternity. He was hungry. He was bloody thirsty. He was blindfolded. He was gagged. He was naked. His feet were tied together and a second piece of rope wrapped round them which secured his tied feet to each back leg of a table. He was bent over at the edge of the table and his arms spread-eagled with more rope attaching his wrists to each of the other two legs at the other end of the table. He wanted to cry. He wanted his Angus. He was consumed with the horror that he may not see him again. He feared for his life. He feared that his life would end in this hell hole at the hands of a mad man. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. His life had hit onto a very positive polarity since he’d met Angus and now he’d gone and potentially blown it all by agreeing to do some pretty underhanded business with someone who turned out to be a maniac. It couldn’t end like this. It just couldn’t. What would this do to his Mum and Dad? What would it do to his beloved Angus? The way he’d been restrained with his arse exposed gave Callum a pretty good idea of what was going to be played out here.
And just the thought of being raped terrified him.
Callum lifted his head at the sound of someone coming into the cellar where he presumed he was being kept. He recognised Nick’s smell but there was another smell now, a smell that was partly sweaty like his own or Nick’s, but it also had a lighter more fragrant tone to it. He recognised it somehow but couldn’t figure out why. It was a feminine smell, a perfume infused feminine smell.
Then a sense of terror and bewilderment ran through him as he recalled where he knew that smell from.
It was from the perfume that his mate Rosie Franklin used.
Royston Eades sat at his kitchen table with his head lowered and his hands folded in front of him. The woman of a similar age sitting next to him was introduced to DS Ben Masters and Detective Constable Emily Ng as Royston’s sister Briony Wilson who was on a visit from her home in Spain. Ben decided it would probably be better to interview the two of them separately and he asked the two uniformed officers who’d come into the house with them to take Royston to another room and wait for them. Briony Wilson looked immediately more relaxed once h
er brother had left.
‘We have been kind of expecting you, Detectives’ said Briony.
‘Why was that, Mrs. Wilson?’
‘Because I believe my nephew Nick is the one you’re looking for in connection with the murders of those young women’.
‘What makes you so certain of that, Mrs. Watts?’ asked Ben.
‘Because he virtually told us so when he came over for dinner the other night’ Briony explained. ‘We got into a huge family argument. Nick said he wouldn’t have done the things he’d done if his father hadn’t done what he’d done to him and that it was all his fault’.
‘I need you to explain further, Mrs. Wilson’ said Ben. ‘I also need you to tell me if you know of anywhere Nick might’ve taken the young women after he’d abducted them’.
‘I begged him to let me and my late husband adopt him’ said Briony in a voice that came from pain that was decades old. Her eyes were staring into the middle distance. ‘Or at least let us take care of him for a while. This was after his mother died. Royston lost his dear wife Alice when Nick was only seven years old and they were close, Alice and Nick. Very close. Nick didn’t know what to do with himself after his Mummy died. And Royston didn’t have the patience. He’s the old- fashioned sort who doesn’t do feelings. He thinks that should be left to the women of the world. Don’t get me wrong, I love my brother but he’s always been a hard man to know and when he was dealing with his grief over Alice he was even worse. I know he was hitting Nick. I know he was taking his anger and frustration over losing Alice out on him. But neither my husband nor I knew the extent to which he was abusing Nick. It wasn’t just physical. It was … it was sexual. And that’s a hard thing to talk about when it’s your own brother but Nick was adamant that it was true. My late husband and I were one of those couples who could never have children. Back then we just had to accept it. It’s not like now when people see having children as a right and demand that the authorities somehow make them pregnant. Back in my day we just accepted it that some people could and some people couldn’t and it was just down to nature. But we were there for Royston. We helped him take care of Nick after Alice died but he wouldn’t let us take him permanently. I know why now’.
‘Briony, we need to know where Nick could’ve taken those women. There may be another one in danger as we speak’.
Briony looked up to the heavens and bit her lip. Her tears were starting to roll down her cheeks.
‘Like I said, I have no children of my own to leave anything to’ she explained tearfully. ‘So I decided to sign over our property to him’.
Ben was now getting just a little impatient. ‘Briony, where is this property you’ve signed over to your nephew?’
‘It’s near Carnforth just south of the Lake district’.
Callum sensed him coming near and he flinched. What was he going to do it to him? Was he really going to rape him now? And the smell of that perfume was really hitting him hard. He knew it was the one Rosie wears. But she couldn’t be involved in all this.
Could she?
‘How are you doing, Callum, my boy?’ asked Nick as he began to caress Mark’s arse with his hand. ‘Beautiful arse, mate. Just like a peach. Although I’m sure you’ve been told that before’.
Callum struggled against his restraints. Then Nick ripped the gag and blindfold from him. It really stung his skin for a moment but then he could talk.
‘Get your hands off me you filthy bastard!’
That provoked a sharp slap across Callum’s backside from Nick. ‘Don’t disrespect me, gay boy. Don’t do it because it would be a rather big mistake. And anyway, I bet you used to like it when your Dad slapped you when you were a naughty boy? I’ll bet you did. I’ll bet you couldn’t wait for him to get the belt out when you were a bit older. You were probably disappointed when he didn’t. I know how you gay boys like a bit of corporal’.
Callum was smarting from the velocity of Nick’s slap but he couldn’t help answering him back. ‘When are you going to grow up and understand that gay does not mean pervert’.
‘Careful what you say, gay boy. I can slap you a lot harder than before’.
‘What are you doing with Rosie?’ he demanded. Because of the way he was restrained he couldn’t look very far ahead or of him and had little situational awareness of what was around him. Why hadn’t he heard anything from Rosie? He hadn’t heard her in any kind of struggle. The sick bastard must’ve drugged her.
‘Rosie? Yes, I hear you’re friends’.
‘Look, what do you want to gain from this? What have me or Rosie ever done to offend you to the extent that we’re here now?’
‘Oh it’s not what you’ve done, gay boy’.
‘Then what the fuck?’
‘Are you afraid?’
‘Yes. I’m afraid’.
‘Are you terrified?’
‘Yes, I’m terrified, I’m bloody terrified. Isn’t that what you want?’
‘Oh don’t get so upset, gay boy’ said Nick. ‘After all, you got yourself into this mess by being so fucking nosey. If you hadn’t gone sticking your bloody beak round my property then none of this would be happening. You’d be safely back in your lover’s arms by now. But instead you’re here with me and it’s a result of your actions, Callum my little gay boy, not mine’.
Each word that Nick uttered was like a sharp blade piercing Callum’s skin. ‘I want you to tell me what you’re going to do with Rosie. She’s a victim. She doesn’t deserve to go through this, Nick. Please, let her go. Keep me where I am but let her go’.
‘Oh you really are gallant for a snivelling little fag, aren’t you Callum?’ said Nick who then started to massage Callum’s back. ‘Do you like that, gay boy? Do you like the big hand of a straight man going over you?’
‘No!’ Callum insisted.
‘Oh come on, gay boy’ said Nick who carried on massaging Callum’s back. ‘I’ll bet this is making you hard?’
‘No it isn’t’
‘Oh I’m sure it is’ said Nick who then reached between Callum’s legs. ‘And I can feel that I’m right. Well do you know what it felt like for me, gay boy? My father used to come into my room every night and rape me. That’s right. He raped me repeatedly over the years after my mother’s death and until I could finally stand up to him physically. But do you know what the thing is? My father raped me because he was a twisted, perverted soul who’d never had the guts to be openly gay. That’s right. He’d never had the guts to go out and find himself a lover like all you modern boys do. He was from the country. It wasn’t the done thing for a man to have a boyfriend. But because of little fags like you parading themselves about it reminded him of what he couldn’t bring himself to have and for that he took it out on me’.
‘Whatever you plan to do, Nick, please don’t do it. Please don’t do it!’
Nick stuck his finger viscously up Callum’s backside. Callum flinched and yelled out as Nick poked around fast and knowing that it would be hurting his victim.
‘Don’t you play these kind of games with your boyfriend, gay boy?’
‘No we fucking don’t’.
‘Doesn’t he fuck you? I imagine you’d play the girl role so he must be on top?’
‘That’s none of your fucking business’.
Nick shoved his finger harder up Callum’s backside. Callum gasped.
‘I told you not to be cheeky, gay boy’ said Nick who then leaned down and spoke into Callum’s ear. ‘But I’m not going to fuck you like your big, butch boyfriend. He placed the tape back across Callum’s mouth. Callum heard Nick shuffling about behind him and began to feel even more terrified than before. What was the sick bastard doing?
‘This will be almost what it felt like when I was six years old and I was raped by a grown man, my father. Get ready for the fuck of your pink little life, gay boy’.
Nick shoved the cold metal cattle prod right up Callum’s arse as far as it would go. He could see from the contortions on Callum’s face that it
must be hurting like fucking hell. ‘Don’t worry, it is attached. When the time comes it may not provide an instant death but the period before your heart does stop beating will be pretty excruciating. It’ll probably feel like the whole of your insides are literally burning. But it’s only what you deserve, gay boy. If it wasn’t for you spreading your perverted filth around the place like it’s fucking normal to be a bloody little queer than my father may not have had his problems that he took out on me. Get it?’
Barton assigned DS Adrian Bradshaw and DC Emily Ng to interview Nathan McIver.
‘You really do need to start talking, Nathan’ said Bradshaw. ‘We’re getting nowhere here’.
‘I told you’ said Nathan who had his right arm folded across his chest and gripping his left arm which was hanging straight down. It was a position he’d always gone into whenever he was nervous about something, ever since he was a little boy. Despite the consequences for himself he couldn’t drop Ken in it, even though he knew that Ken knew that, which was why he wanted Nathan to take the wrap. ‘I hired him, we had sex in my apartment and then he got greedy asking for twice the agreed fee. We started arguing, it got heated and that’s when I pushed him and he fell, hitting his head against the corner of the drawer unit. He must’ve died instantly’.
‘Except that your DNA is nowhere on his body except where his pulse is in his neck’ Bradshaw countered. He knew damn well Nathan was lying. He was covering for somebody but who and why? ‘It’s as if you were checking for somebody else that he was dead’.
‘Why would I do that?’
‘To protect someone. It seems obvious to me. Does it seem obvious to you, DC Ng?’
‘Sure does, sir’ said Ng. ‘But it must be someone very special if Mr. McIver here is prepared to go to prison for them for the next twenty years. I mean, talk about throwing away the best years of your life’.
‘Who is it, Nathan?’ Bradshaw persisted. ‘Who are you prepared to throw away the best years of your life for?’
