by Lee Weeks
‘Emily Styles’ parents say she had a phobia about needles – can’t see her “popping”,’ said Carter.
‘There’s no heroin in her system.’
‘Well, if it’s not contaminated heroin what is it?’ asked Carter.
‘Could be many types of bacteria,’ Harding answered. ‘I told you it takes time for the lab to get results.’
‘If he was looking after her, holding her, then he was also nursing her.’ Ebony was looking at Harding’s hanging woman diagram. ‘He seems to want to preserve her face so that he can mock her with the make-up, whilst destroying her body.’
‘Yes, she would have been a walking gangrenous site,’ said Harding.
Ebony began drawing a make-up mask onto Harding’s hanging woman. ‘That’s what he likes.’
Chapter 11
It was Monday morning and Tracy was anxious for Steve to leave for work but he didn’t seem to want to go. She looked at the clock. He should have left ten minutes earlier. She didn’t understand what was keeping him.
‘You’ll be late for work, love.’ She stated the obvious. He didn’t answer. He was making heavy weather of the last few things he always did: check his briefcase, check he had his phone, check for any specks on his shoulders and give his shoes a little polish with the cloth that Tracy kept just by them for that very purpose. Tracy believed in taking pride in your appearance and always making sure you looked immaculate for work. She had tried to instil the routine into him, to make his life easier.
‘Will you miss your train?’
‘There’ll be another one,’ he growled.
She watched him from the corner of her eye; he looked like he was itching to get something off his chest. But Tracy knew when he was spoiling for a fight and right now she didn’t need it. Tracy wasn’t prepared for an argument about Danielle and Jackson again. She said nothing and waited patiently.
‘What are you going to do today? It’s your day off, isn’t it?’ he mumbled.
‘I’ve got plenty to do; don’t worry about me,’ she replied in short sharp fashion.
He responded with an irritable snatch-up of his briefcase and grunted a goodbye as he left.
Tracy breathed a sigh of relief as she watched from the lounge window and saw him walk away down the street; he was walking on the road as the pavement was icy. She thought how sad he looked – something about his demeanour had changed recently, his shoulders had dropped, eyes on the ground. If he didn’t get a move on he’d miss another train, thought Tracy.
Alone at last, she spent the day tidying and sorting out old photos. She couldn’t help but spend some time looking online for Christmas presents for Jackson. She also rang a few gyms in the area to see how much it would cost her to join after Christmas. They would all have offers on in the New Year. New Year, New You, they promised her. She liked the sound of that. At six in the evening Tracy got ready to go to Danielle’s. She left a meal for Steve in the fridge and an apology for not being there. She drove to Danielle’s estate and parked her immaculate old yellow Fiat as far away as she could get from the abandoned-looking car that seemed to have a party going on in it. The entrance was off a side street and the five tower blocks were laid out around a courtyard. It was already pitch dark outside but the landings were lit by security lights all night.
‘Thanks for coming, Tracy. I’ll just be gone for a few hours,’ Danielle greeted her as she opened door.
‘That’s no problem,’ Tracy said as she stepped inside the flat. ‘Are you going anywhere nice?’ She took her coat off.
‘Just meeting a friend for a few drinks, that’s all. I’ll be back by eleven.’
‘You enjoy yourself. I’ll be okay. I’ve got my car outside so I can get home, and the roads are gritted from door to door so don’t you worry.’
Tracy went into the lounge to sit with Jackson whilst Danielle got ready to go out. Tracy resisted the temptation to ask to help with her daughter’s makeup. She was still smarting from the last time she’d offered. Jackson was excited to see her and got all of his toys out to show her. She sat on the floor and helped him build a pretend beauty salon with his Duplo.
Danielle came into the lounge whilst the news was on. Reporters stood next to the Regent’s Canal; behind them the crime scene tent had gone but the canal boats were still stuck in the frozen water. The area was still taped off.
Danielle turned the television off.
‘I’m almost ready to go now. Will you be all right to give him a bath and put him to bed? I don’t like him watching too much television before he goes to bed. He likes you to read to him. He’ll choose a book.’
Tracy jumped up and followed Danielle out into the hall. ‘Can you just run through exactly what he has and when? And where everything is? I want to get it right.’
Danielle laughed. ‘You can’t get it wrong. There is no wrong way. Ask Jackson and he’ll tell you where things are.’
‘But he must have routines, things he always likes doing a certain way.’
Danielle smiled. ‘You can make it up as you go along, Tracy, honestly. Jackson is usually in bed by seven-thirty but just do your best.’ Tracy nodded. ‘Don’t look so worried – honestly, he’s an easy kid.’ Danielle went in to kiss Jackson and give him a hug before coming back to Tracy. ‘Double-lock the door and put the chain across when I’ve gone,’ she said and then she raced out of the door.
‘Mummy?’ Jackson looked ready to cry. His eyes were on Tracy as she came back into the lounge. Tracy smiled and tried to look confident.
‘Mummy will be back in a little while, Jackson. She’s gone out to see some friends; that’s nice, isn’t it? We are going to have such fun, aren’t we?’ He nodded but his eyes were wide and full of fast-forming tears. ‘Come and show Nanny what else you can make with your Duplo.’ Once she felt he’d settled she left him and went into the bathroom and began running a bath. She was running it through in her head: anything she’d ever heard about small children and bath and bedtime routines. She finished running the bath and was on her way in to get Jackson when a banging on the door stopped her in her tracks.
Someone’s flat hand began thumping hard against the front door.
‘Hello?’ Tracy called out. There was a glance between Tracy and Jackson. He watched her from his seat on the lounge floor. She stood, frozen in the hallway. Her heart was racing.
‘Danielle? Open the door!’ someone shouted.
‘What do you want? Danielle’s not here.’
Tracy edged forward towards the door to double-lock it. She’d been so keen to distract Jackson when Danielle had first left that she’d not done it. She didn’t want to panic. She didn’t want to scare Jackson.
‘Tell Manson to get out here.’
‘I don’t know who you’re talking about.’
‘We only want to talk to Manson. Open the door.’
‘Go away; there’s no one here by that name.’ Tracy watched as Jackson put down his Duplo and crept towards her. She held up her hand to make him stay where he was. ‘I’ll call the police if you don’t go.’
Tracy screamed as the door flew open and crashed against the hallway wall and she was pushed backwards. Three men burst through. She rushed to pick up Jackson.
‘Get out! Who do you think you are? Get out now . . .!’
One of them came to stand in front of her as she held tightly onto Jackson.
‘Where is he?’
Tracy tried to stay back from him but he was in her face and shouting. She was trying to stay calm as Jackson began crying and clinging to her so tightly that his fingers were like needles in her arms. Tracy shook her head.
‘Who? Who is it you want?’
‘Manson? Where is he?’
‘I don’t know who you’re talking about. I don’t know anybody called Manson.’
‘Where’s Danielle?’
‘She’s out. I told you.’
Tracy shrieked as she was pushed into the lounge and then she and Jackson were forced
backwards onto the sofa where they were ordered to stay. Tracy pulled Jackson onto her lap and they sat and listened to the flat being ransacked.
I can’t sit here and do nothing . . . thought Tracy. Her bag was the other side of the sofa where she’d put it when she was going to bath Jackson. Tracy kept one eye on the door to the lounge as she edged closer to it, still managing to hold on tightly to Jackson. She slid her hand over the side of the sofa and reached inside the bag for her phone. In one movement one of the men leapt into the lounge and snatched it out of her hands and threw it to the floor. She heard it crack as it landed on the wood veneer. He kicked it across the room and it slid beneath the television stand. She tried to shrink back into the sofa as he pushed Jackson to one side and pulled her up by the arm and shouted in her face.
‘Tell Manson he has two days. We hear nothing? We’re coming back. You listening?’ He breathed an inch away from Tracy’s face. ‘You tell the police? Then . . . we’re coming for you and him.’ He pointed to Jackson then jabbed Tracy’s chest hard to make sure she understood. After that the men left as dramatically as they had arrived.
Tracy rushed to the door to lock it with the remaining locks and she slipped the safety chain across and came back to Jackson, who was looking just about ready to start howling. Tracy couldn’t stop herself shaking.
‘Okay. Okay.’ She repeated the word to reassure herself and see how it sounded. She tried it on Jackson. ‘It’s okay, Jackson. We’re not hurt, are we? It could have been a lot worse, couldn’t it? We’re okay now. She sat beside him on the sofa and hugged him to her while at the same time looking at the mess and wondering if it had all really happened. Should she ring the police now? She kept thinking about what the man had threatened. Would he come for her and Jackson? He didn’t look like he’d think twice about slitting their throats. No – she wouldn’t be calling anyone, not just yet. They were gone, a few things broken in the flat probably – but she and Jackson were okay. She needed to ask Danielle first before doing anything. What did she know about this world? What did she know about any of it? All she knew was that Jackson was a little boy who was very scared right now and he depended on her as the adult to look after him. She would stay calm and talk to Danielle when she got back. Yes, she told herself, that was what she’d do – tidy up and wait for Danielle to come home and then tell her what had happened and let her deal with it.
‘Nanny needs you to be a good boy now while I tidy up a little bit.’ She found Jackson something to watch on the television and a plate of snacks he wasn’t really supposed to have. She put the furniture back where they’d pulled it out and tipped it over. She retrieved her phone from where it had ended up under the telly – the screen was cracked but it still worked. Tracy was momentarily sad. She wouldn’t be able to get a new phone for months; she’d have to make do with it, put some tape over it.
After an hour of doing her best to restore order in the flat she gave Jackson his bath and read him a bedtime story and tucked him up with his Peppa Pig toy. She sat on his bed and listened to his breathing grow deep and when she was sure he was asleep she came back into the lounge and turned the telly off. She sat in silence and listened to the echoes of footsteps outside in the hallway and felt her heart race every time it seemed like someone was stopping at the door. When she finally heard a light knock at the door she jumped and almost scalded herself with her hot cup of tea.
She crept into the hallway and stood at the other side of the locked door.
‘Who is it?’
‘Me.’
Tracy unlocked the chain and Danielle looked at the broken lock on the door. As the realization that there’d been trouble crossed her face she rushed past Tracy towards Jackson’s room.
‘He’s fine. He’s fast asleep.’
Danielle stopped and rested against the wall.
‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know. Three men burst in here and turned the place upside down looking for someone called Manson or something and then they threatened us.’
‘Did you call the police?’
Tracy shook her head. ‘They said they’d hurt Jackson if I did. I wanted to wait and ask you. I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry if I didn’t do the right thing.’
‘Bastards.’ Danielle went into the kitchen and put the kettle on.
Tracy followed her into the kitchen. ‘Who were they?’ Danielle opened a cupboard and got a mug and took tea from a container. She was taking her time answering. Tracy stood in the doorway waiting. ‘Do you know them? Do you know who they were talking about, this person called Manson?’
Danielle nodded, turned back and made herself some tea. When she was done she turned to face Tracy: ‘That’s Jackson’s dad, Niall. My ex. Can we go and sit in the lounge; I’ve had a few drinks. I’m not used to it any more. I feel a bit pissed.’
‘What did they want? What do you think they were looking for?’
‘He must have been dealing. He must have given this address.’
‘Dealing? As in drugs? From here? With Jackson here?’
‘I told you – that’s why I left him.’
‘I didn’t know whether to phone the police or not but they said they’d come back for me and Jackson if I did.’ Tracy’s voice was getting shriller. Danielle slumped in the sofa. She reached inside her bag and took out tobacco and began rolling a cigarette. Tracy looked at her as if she were about to shoot heroin into her arm.
‘What’s that?’
‘Tobacco,’ she snapped. ‘What do you think it is?’
Tracy stared, wide-eyed, as Danielle rolled and lit the cigarette and then sat back on the sofa and smoked it as she stared straight ahead; they sat in silence.
‘What are you going to do?’ Tracy waved the smoke away from her face.
‘Nothing. They found nothing. They can see he’s not living here. They’ll know he lied. They’ll leave us alone now.’
‘How do you know it won’t happen again?’
‘I’ll get hold of him and make sure he doesn’t use this address again. I’m not going to make any trouble for myself.’
‘Will you let him see Jackson?’
‘I told you. I don’t. He doesn’t see him anyway. I wouldn’t allow him and he’s not interested.’
Tracy stood and picked up her bag.
‘I can’t put up with things like this happening. I mean – I’ve never seen anything like that. No one’s ever been so aggressive towards me – and to threaten Jackson. What kind of people do you know, Danielle?’
‘They are people I used to know. Not any more. Now it’s just me and Jackson and I hoped it would be you but if it’s all too much for you then you better go. Because, you know what? I won’t take any fucking criticism from you, Tracy. You’ve no right. You’re either on our side or you’re out for good. We don’t need it.’
‘I didn’t say that. It’s just . . .’ Tracy shook her head. ‘You seem to think it’s nothing, but it terrified me.’
Danielle switched the telly on as she kicked off her shoes and sat back in the sofa.
‘You’d better go.’
Chapter 12
Pam was just leaving. She’d already stayed beyond ten and Robbo thanked her. Pam and Robbo had worked together for many years in his former life as a detective and although both had long marriages at home, Pam was Robbo’s ‘work wife’. They had worked together in the Major Incident Room, manning the telephones, and feeding all incoming information into HOLMES.
Robbo was agoraphobic. He had battled against it all his adult life. Sometimes he had to face his demons like in the court room. Then he’d learnt the technique of finding security within a comfort zone he concocted for himself. When Robbo retrained and moved to a new office he’d had to spend time adjusting. Moving the desks around and reshuffling the cabinets to make it seem familiar, he had finally settled on an arrangement where he was slightly backed into the corner of the room, with white boards behind him. From there he could see the corridor and he fe
lt cocooned and not trapped. He didn’t like germs. He liked things to be in order and precise. He liked to see the same people every day but only ever liked a few people in the office at one time. The door to his office was always open and he knew where the exits were in case of panic attacks.
Many times he thought the daily struggle was too hard but he also knew that he loved his job and would battle against anything to do it well. He also knew that if he didn’t fight it he would lose the battle.
‘Night, Pam. See you tomorrow.’
‘Are you going to get some sleep?’ she asked. He nodded vigorously. She gave Carter a look that said ‘That’s what he always says’.
Carter winked at her. ‘We’ll take care of him. See you tomorrow.’
‘Night, Pam,’ Ebony called out as she was coming down the corridor to Robbo’s office.
‘Doctor Harding’s sent over some results on the flaps of skin taken from Emily Styles’ back.’ She read out the results to Robbo and Carter. ‘They contained splinters of wood – it’s a soft wood, possibly pine.’ Robbo rocked in his chair as he listened. ‘Doctor Harding says that the skin had closed over the splinters – that would indicate she was lying on something wooden, rubbing against its surface.’ Ebony finished reading and looked at Carter. ‘A pine box – like a coffin.’
‘Not like a coffin,’ corrected Carter. ‘It was one.’
‘And she was there for some time – must have been to allow the skin to grow over,’ said Robbo.
‘Three months would do it.’ Carter pulled his chair closer to the desk and typed a search onto the PC.
‘Jesus, you can’t keep someone in a box for three months,’ said Robbo.
‘Gets her out to abuse her. Puts her back in,’ said Carter as he typed on the keyboard and scrolled down to read the information on the screen.
‘Just adding this to what we know about Hawk,’ he said. ‘All the men on file for false imprisonment in a box of some kind are serving life several times over. All of them killed. Two out of the three demanded ransoms. One of the victims got away when she fooled her captor into thinking she was emotionally involved with him. He thought it was the start of a beautiful relationship and let her go. Most of the time the victim was threatened with death if she tried to leave the box, thought it was wired to explode if she moved, that kind of thing. The men who kept their victims like this were undoubtedly some of our worst, most sadistic killers.’
