The Lost Girl (Brennan and Esposito)

by Tania Carver

  ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘He… nothing. He said nothing. Wouldn’t… talk to me.’

  The figure didn’t reply.

  She could still hear the ragged breathing in her ear, smell some kind of aftershave on the scarf he was wearing. But no more words. Tentatively, she tried to speak.

  ‘Look, just… just let me go. Now. I’ll not… not report this, not say anything to anyone about this. I swear. Just, just… please let me go…’

  ‘Shut up, bitch.’

  Tighter again.

  Marina made another attempt to reason. Perhaps her last one, for all she knew. ‘Michael Prosser told me nothing. Now please, let me go…’

  She didn’t know what the reply would be. Because at that moment another figure appeared at the end of the alleyway, blocking out the light, cutting off Marina’s view of the relative safety of her car.

  She opened her mouth, attempting to scream to this newcomer, taking her chance, but she had no time. Because the figure, small, compact and all in black, began to move along the alley at speed, building up momentum as it reached Marina and her attacker.

  The figure shouted four words. ‘Close your eyes, Marina…’

  Too scared, confused and numb to think actively and coherently, she mutely obeyed. She heard a sound, then a scream. And felt air flood her lungs once more.

  She fell to the ground, opening her eyes as she did so.

  This new figure had pepper sprayed her attacker in the eyes. She had then followed this up by taking out an extendable nightstick and bringing it down hard on the attacker’s wrists and arms. As Marina watched, the attacker turned and, blinded and injured, ran as fast as he could.

  Instead of giving chase, as Marina had expected the newcomer to do, she found herself being helped up from the ground.

  ‘You OK?’

  ‘Yeah, I think so. Thanks, I…’

  Something about that voice made Marina turn. Took in this new person for the first time. All dressed in black Lycra and running shoes like a cat burglar or an athlete. With a black wool beanie cap pulled down low. The figure pulled it off revealing spiked peroxide hair, illuminated against black skin. The figure smiled.

  ‘Can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I?’ said Anni Hepburn.

  Fiona

  It was the eyes that got her first. Big, sad. Not that that was unusual in itself; lots of the kids here had big sad eyes. Most of them tried to hide the fact. Put angry screens in front of them. Or funny. Or brave. The ones who didn’t became the stragglers of the pack and got the sadness bullied and beaten out of them. But this one was different. Something about that sadness in those eyes that connected. In a big, big way. In a way that no one had ever connected with her before.

  Yes. She could remember what she was doing the first time she saw Fiona. Nothing. Waiting. It was all she ever seemed to do there. Michael ushered the girl into the common room.

  This is Fiona, he said. Look after her, treat her well. She’s coming to join us. Live here. She’s one of us now.

  And off he went, back to avoiding whatever it was he was supposed to be doing.

  Kids gathered round her. Hoping to project whatever they wanted of themselves onto the new arrival. Those wanting friends hoped they saw a friend. Those wanting a victim hoped they saw that. But what did she want when she looked at Fiona? She didn’t know.

  She saw a girl, a little underweight, her hair cut in an unfashionable style. Wearing clothes that were old but that she could sense she still had pride in. That must make her feel good to wear them. But it was what she saw in her next that broke her heart.

  Damage, vulnerability. But deep, intrinsic to her. Not the kind she could exploit, make worse. The kind that made her want to protect this new girl. Nurture her. This was a new sensation and she didn’t know how to cope with it.

  She went up to the girl. You’re Fiona, she said.

  Fiona nodded.

  She gave Fiona her name.

  Fiona nodded again. But this time reached out. To do what? Shake hands? Touch her? She didn’t know. But she was glad Fiona did. Because as soon as Fiona’s fingers touched her, it felt like an electric charge had been put through her body. She looked at Fiona. Right into her eyes. And knew that Fiona felt it too.

  Responding, she placed her arm round Fiona’s shoulder. Looked round the room. The rest of the children knew what that meant. Fiona wasn’t to be touched, harmed. Fiona was protected.

  And she felt so good about it.

  Weeks passed. They became inseparable. Fiona enjoyed school and work too. They shared the same interests in music, TV shows. The fact that it was different to everyone else’s just bound the two more tightly together. They even started to dress alike. She shared her money from pimping out the other girls with Fiona. It was one of the first things she had told Fiona she was doing.

  They’re weak, she said. They need someone to take care of them.

  Is that taking care of them? Letting men do… She couldn’t say the word… what they do to them?

  It’s either them or us, Fiona, she said, stroking the other girl’s hand. If I wasn’t doing that to them, one of them would be doing it to me. To us. D’you want that to happen?

  Fiona thought. Shook her head. No.

  No. Exactly. This way I make sure it doesn’t happen. I keep you safe. And I get money to buy you things. She smiled when she said the last bit.

  Why? asked Fiona. Why d’you want to buy me things?

  Why? Because… She knew the answer, the words, but she didn’t want to say them. Or rather couldn’t bring herself to say them. Even with Fiona. Because everything that had happened before meeting her was still part of her. That castle was still inside her. The walls thick and strong. But she had to say something – or do something – to show Fiona how she felt, what she meant to her. So instead of words she grabbed Fiona by the back of the neck, moved her head towards her own, and pushed her lips on to hers.

  The kiss was returned.

  The kiss was beautiful.

  And just the start. After that there was no stopping them. The other kids knew what was happening. It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened in the home but it was the most intense. And Michael knew too. But he didn’t dare interfere or stop it or even, as he had done on other occasions, threatened to inform on the kids unless they allowed him to watch. So they were left alone. In their own world. Population: two.

  She had never been so happy. Fiona’s body, like her mind – her soul – was a beautiful, wonderful thing to explore. And Fiona felt the same in response. She could tell.

  Fiona began to blossom then. There was still that damage, that pain inside her. But it started to fade as her happiness grew. She began to look beautiful. Smile. Have confidence in herself. And that just made her love Fiona even more.

  But some of the other children began to notice the new, confident, even beautiful, girl. One of the boys in particular. Jack was an arrogant boy. Or at least full of bravado, bluff and boasting. She hadn’t let him near her, but he had fucked (nearly) all the other girls in the home. And a few outside. He was dealing drugs. He was going to nightclubs and working for local gangsters. He was all of that. And he was keen on Fiona.

  At first she found it quite amusing how Jack would flirt with Fiona. How Fiona would have nothing to do with him. Belittle him and make him look stupid in front of the rest of the kids. But he kept at her. And gradually, Fiona began to respond. In her own small way. Flirting back with him, teasing him instead of traducing him. And she didn’t like that. Didn’t like that at all.

  So she seethed, hated. She had never felt like this. It was the flipside of what she had felt like with Fiona at first. That gnashing and gnawing inside no longer pleasurable, just hateful. She didn’t want to feel like this any more. So she confronted Fiona.

  What are you doing with him? Why are you talking to him like that?

  Fiona looked confused, then smiled. Oh, Jack. It’s just fun. T
hat’s all. Nothing serious.

  Well, I don’t like it. I don’t like you talking to him like that. He’ll get the wrong idea.

  What would the wrong idea be?

  He wants to fuck you. And you’ll let him.

  Fiona smiled again. So what? It might be fun. I might enjoy it.

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Not from her Fiona. I don’t care, she said. You’re not doing it.

  Why not?

  Right up close to her. Breath to breath. Because you’re mine, Fiona. Mine.

  And again, a smile. More crooked this time. I’m not yours. Really. What we’ve got together is great. But it’s not everything. If Jack wants to fuck me, I might let him. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.

  She stared at Fiona. At that still smiling face. And she realised something. She had misjudged the girl. Badly. The damage she had seen within her, that she had recognised, went even deeper than she had thought. There was something in her that was unreachable. That was wrong. Even more wrong than the damage inside herself.

  She stepped back. Knew she had no control over Fiona any more. That she never really had. All the time she had been fucking Fiona, Fiona had been fucking with her.

  It felt like her whole world was ending.

  Fiona fucked Jack. She said she enjoyed it. But Jack didn’t. Whatever she did to him scared the boy. Seriously scared him. So much so that he wasn’t as loud-mouthed after that. But Fiona was happy. Happier than she had been since she arrived at the home.

  And she desperately hoped that Fiona would come back to her now. That everything would be as it was before. She would forgive her – of course she would. If Fiona would just come back.

  And she did. Kind of.

  She got into bed with her that night. Looked at her.

  What you do with the girls, she said. How you pimp them out to men.

  She waited.

  I think I’ll join you. I think I’ll help you.

  She was so desperate to keep her she said yes.

  And then lay awake all night.

  PART FOUR

  SEASON OF THE WITCH

  25

  ‘Morning, lover.’

  Phil slowly opened his eyes, didn’t know where he was. Or why he hurt so much. Focused. Saw a pair of huge eyes, made-up, a face smiling at him. His first response was to return the smile. Then he slowly, and with a shuddering lurch inside him, remembered where he was. And who was smiling at him.

  ‘Pleased to see me, handsome? Course you are.’

  Phil’s headache immediately started again. He felt tired, aching. Like he hadn’t slept. Or if he had, hadn’t rested. Then his memory slotted in more pieces. The dining room, the wheelchair. The escape attempt. The pain. Then… nothing.

  Here.

  ‘How did I…’

  ‘I put you to bed, silly. Had to take you to the toilet first.’ She giggled. ‘That was interesting.’ She was wearing something else of Marina’s. A black silk dressing gown. It was clear from the way her body moved, although Phil tried hard to avert his eyes, that she was naked beneath it.

  ‘All that nonsense last night…’ She got on the bed alongside him, then reached over to the bedside table, picked up a mug. It looked like one of Phil’s own mugs from home. Part of a range Marina had bought. The detail unnerved him. He tried to rationalise it away, think that anyone could get mugs from Designers at Debenhams if they knew the ones they were looking for. But he failed. That detail had unnerved him. More than he wanted to admit to himself.

  ‘Drink this,’ she said, putting it to his lips.

  He looked quickly to the bedside table. The two capsules were still there. She caught his gaze. Smiled once more.

  ‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘You’re not ready for that yet.’

  He tried to speak, argue, but she didn’t give him the chance. The drink was pushed to his mouth, the mug upended. Tea, he managed to taste between forced gulps. Warm.

  She replaced the mug on the bedside table once he had drained it. She looked at him again. Smiled. Her mood playful, coquettish.

  ‘What am I going to do with you, eh?’

  Phil tried a shrug, a weak smile. ‘Let me go?’

  A flash of anger appeared behind her eyes. This time she controlled it, rode it out. Smiled once more.

  ‘Go where, darling? There’s nowhere for you to go to. You’re home. Here. Now. With me.’

  She stood up, locking her eyes on to his the whole time. Placed one knee on the bed. Began to slowly undo the belt of the silk dressing gown. Her tongue appeared at the corner of her mouth. A wicked grin appeared around it. Her lips bright red, an open, fresh wound.

  Phil felt his heart racing. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be.

  ‘I’ve forgiven you. For last night. Because…’ An exaggerated shrug. ‘That’s what married couples do, isn’t it? That’s what being married is all about. Compromise. I mean, if I got upset at the tiniest little things that you said, where would we be?’

  She waited as if expecting an answer. Phil wasn’t even listening to her words. His mind had slipped a gear. Even after everything he had been through since he had arrived at this place with her, all the torment both mental and physical, he still couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Not here, not now. Not to him. Definitely not to him…

  ‘But seriously. Don’t do it again. I might not be so forgiving next time.’

  She pulled the belt apart, and with it the dressing gown. She slowly, and what she presumed was seductively, pulled the belt from the gown, let it drop at the side of the bed.

  ‘I could have used that to tie you up with,’ she said, giggling. ‘If you weren’t already restrained, that is.’

  Phil tried to pull against his bindings. He was tied firm, the leather thick, unyielding.

  ‘Please. Don’t do this. Please…’

  She leaned over, placed a finger delicately on his lips. ‘Shhh.’ A whisper. ‘Don’t talk. Don’t say a word.’

  She slipped the gown from her shoulders. Let it drop where it fell. Knelt on the bed beside Phil, legs apart. Proudly displaying her body. Eyes still locked with his, smiling all the time.

  Phil’s heart was hammering. He didn’t know what to do. What he could do.

  And then he felt something. His body began to betray him.

  He was getting an erection.

  She noticed, laughed.

  ‘That was quick. Mind you, I put enough of those little blue pills in your tea so I’m not surprised. But just in case…’

  She reached over him to the bedside table once more. He closed his eyes as she did so. Kept them closed as he felt her hands on him. Then felt a tightness round his genitals.

  ‘There, that should keep you nice and big. You won’t be going anywhere in a hurry now.’

  He looked down. She had placed a small elastic band round the base of his cock. He lay back. Unable to comprehend what was happening, nearly unable to cope.

  ‘Please…’ His voice so weak he didn’t even know whether he had actually spoken the words aloud.

  She ran her hands down her naked body, lifted her breasts towards him as if for inspection. He turned his head away.

  ‘Playing hard to get? Got a headache?’ She giggled. ‘That’s supposed to be my prerogative.’

  She pulled back the duvet, slid into bed beside him. Pushed her body up against his.

  ‘There,’ she said. ‘Isn’t this cosy? Just a normal husband and wife having a lie-in. No kids, Josephina’s with her grandmother, no work because it’s a Saturday, so all we have to do is have a lazy time together.’ Her hand moved along his body. ‘A long, lazy time…’

  He felt like he was about to have a heart attack. Everything was totally beyond his control. He had never felt more completely helpless in his life.

  She stopped stroking, stared right into his eyes once more. ‘It’s all about that darkness, Phil. The darkness inside you. You see, I have to show you who you are. Who you really
are. Only then can you understand who I am. Really, really understand. And when you do, you’ll love me. Love me like you’ve never loved anyone in your life before. And then we can be together forever. But first you have to open up. Explore it. Welcome it. I’m here for you. Here to explore it with you. Show you your real self. So don’t be afraid…’

  He screamed, thrashed, pulled against the restraints, tried to avoid her caresses, her body’s closeness. But nothing he did had any effect.

  Slowly she swung one leg over him, straddled him. Looking down she smiled once more.

  ‘I love you, Phil. So, so much.’

  And lowered herself down on to him.

  26

  The morning briefing was, thought Imani, the same the country over. The surroundings might be different, the faces too, but the types were similar, even if there were fewer of them than she was used to on a major investigation. But the goals, the ultimate outcome, she expected, would be exactly the same.

  Result. Resolution. The bad guys punished.

  She perched herself on the front of Matthews’ desk, making sure he had space to see round her. She felt she had succeeded in fitting in with the team. Or at least by not standing out. That was something. Even if, she thought, they weren’t used to seeing too many black faces on this side of the country. At least not on this side of the thin blue line.

  She had booked into a B and B just off Maldon Road the night before, preferring that to an anonymous budget hotel like she would normally have had to endure. She had had a good night’s sleep, being so tired that she had just about collapsed on hitting the bed. Waking up had been different though; a sudden, startled awakening when the alarm sounded, a panicked glance round unfamiliar surroundings, heart palpitating, stomach lurching. For a few seconds she had thought she was back in that apartment at the mercy of the madman who had tried to murder her. A few deep breaths, a few minutes to reorientate and she was all right. Or as all right as she could be. She doubted she would ever be truly all right from it again. She never voiced those fears aloud, not even to the counsellor whose sessions she had been obliged to attend. But she felt the trauma was still inside her, still waiting for a moment to manifest itself. She just hoped that when it came, as it inevitably would, it wouldn’t be too bad. That was all.