by G H Mockford
‘I’ll die first.’ Georgia spat. She tried to look him in the eye, or at least where she hoped his eyes were, but she was forced to look away with the intensity of the light.
‘That’s happened before,’ he said, glancing over at the fireplace. ‘Do I need to give you a plastic plate?’
Georgia struggled against him and then relaxed, thinking better of her actions. If she lost the use of her plate, she would have no way of helping Felicity dig her way through the mortar. She felt his weight lift from her chest and he stood upright.
‘I must do the rounds. I’ll be back later. Please eat all the food I give you, when I give it to you. Oh, and please remain alive. It would be a shame to lose one as plucky and beautiful as you.’
The light turned away and illuminated the chair. He crossed over to it and bent down to pick up the broken pieces of china. He went through the door and locked it behind him.
Georgia slumped in the bath and allowed her breathing to return to normal. Her heart slowed down. Over time, her eyes grew accustomed to the dark once again.
Removing herself from the bath, Georgia set out across the room, her outstretched arms searching for the armchair. Once she found it, she located the shard of plate and went to work on the fireplace. She wasn’t going to let him win.
She would show him.
She would defy him.
Georgia wasn’t sure how long she’d been working when she heard a soft tap, tap, tap.
‘Good evening, Georgia.’ It was Felicity.
‘Oh, thank God. I thought he was going to rape me, Georgia said. Never again, she thought.
Some parts of that terrible night were a bit of a blur now, but she would always remember the man was sweaty. The glow stick that had hung from his neck and dangled in her face suggested he’d been out clubbing. His lager drenched breath rolled over her face with each desperate and aggressive move of his body. He’d called her a bitch, the venom and bitterness clear and threatening in his voice.
Georgia had wanted to scream, but her frantic heart filled her throat, stifling the sound before it even began. It wasn’t until she felt his slick, fumbling fingers clawing at the button of her jeans that it occurred to her to fight back. The fear she felt had been crippling, so all-consuming.
All that filled her mind was that she was sixteen and she was going to have her innocence forcibly ripped away from her. Gone were the dreams of love, romance, of waiting for that special one with whom she would decide to share herself with.
Georgia reached out for something, anything nearby that she could use as a weapon. Her hand slapped down on the empty tarmac, again and again, but there wasn’t anthing. She wanted to search for something but was too afraid to take her eyes off the face of her attacker. His eyes were grey and cold.
Georgia felt the button he was struggling with pop open and she knew with all certainty that if she didn’t fight now, it would be too late. Her legs started kicking though she didn’t remember even thinking about the action. To her horror, her resistance only made it easier for her attacker, and he slid neatly between her legs.
Like a blessing, she felt his weight lift from her chest, but then she realized that it was only so he could get both hands on the waistband of her jeans.
Now the scream decided to come out.
Over the terrified sounds, which felt like they were coming from someone else, she heard a loud crack, or perhaps a dull thunk, Georgia wasn’t quite sure now, and the man collapsed on top of her.
Edward stood above her, a broken skateboard in both hands like a golf club at the end of the follow through of a long, powerful swing. The old man threw the improvised weapon to one side, reached down, grasped the man’s sweat-drenched shirt and pulled him off her.
Georgia stared up at her rescuer and ignored his outstretched hand.
‘Are you all right, love?’
His voice was kind and gentle. His smile genuine. It went all the way up to his wrinkled eyes.
Georgia reached out for his hand and felt his firm, strong grip as he pulled her to her feet.
‘Are you all right?’ he repeated.
Georgia didn’t answer. Instead, she threw her arms around him and held on as if she would fall if she relaxed her grip for an instant. Then she buried her face in his stained camouflage jacket and repeatedly muttered her thanks.
The tears were unexpected when they came, and after the third hacking sob she felt the slow, tentative pats of his huge hands on her back.
That had been just a few nights before she’d ended up here. She should have gone home there and then, but she didn’t – couldn’t.
Back in the here and now, Georgia suddenly became aware that Felicity was talking to her.
‘If we get this slab out, we might be able to fit through, and then we can help each other,’ Felicity said. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.’
Georgia didn’t find the words as comforting as she might.
Thirty-Eight
MONDAY 8:30 A.M.
Stephen was ready to leave the house, but instead of walking out the door, he sat on the communal sofa with his phone in his hand.
Call Chambers, or carry on investigating on his own?
Edward had said Georgia ran off. Assuming she’d run towards the car park, was that where the vehicle had been waiting? The car had left – even if it were connected – before Stephen was attacked. Did that mean there was more than one person involved? Or was it completely unrelated? Edward had used the word Argies, which would imply there was more than one. But he could also assume it was all be part of his PTSD. So, had there been more than one person? It made sense. Two? More? And why had one stayed behind? Had Stephen interrupted something? The answers might lie somewhere in everything he knew if he unpicked it.
Assuming that what Edward said wasn’t insane rantings, Stephen figured it happened like this. The attackers arrived. Perhaps they set on Georgia, Edward and the undercover cop, Grigg, straight away. Perhaps Grigg had identified himself in the hope of arresting them, or more likely frightening them off. If he blew his cover there must have been a lot of stake. Did they have weapons? Was it to protect an innocent, like Georgia?
Stephen shook his head. Any answers he created for his questions just raised new ones. He should focus on what he knew for now.
Grigg had told Georgia to run. She did. Then the undercover cop was murdered. Had one of the murderers then gone after Georgia while the other attacked Edward? Once the old soldier was down, perhaps the pair bundled Georgia into the back of the car. Then the car left while the other attacker cleaned up.
That added up. It fitted nicely.
Stephen reprimanded himself. The coldness with which he’d analyzed the situation surprised him.
Had the man Stephen fought hid Griggs’s body and then hid himself because he arrived? But once Stephen saw Edward’s body, the attacker would have no choice but to deal with Stephen too. But he’d managed to see the man in the mask off. Their plan had already gone horribly wrong, perhaps the attacker thought it was best to cut his losses and run.
Stephen had come up with a plausible explanation, but did it help him? Should he try and speak to Edward again? Who knew what information lay hidden away in that man’s addled brain.
Stephen took out his phone. It was ten o’clock. He had plenty of time to get over to the QMC. He could see his mother again as he was over that way.
He felt better now he had a plan, but he also had to go down to the arches and check out his theory.
Then he would call the police.
Thirty-Nine
‘Detective Sergeant Rees.’
Stephen was surprised to hear the rumbling Welsh tones on the end of the phone. As soon as he’d finished checking out his theory, he stood under the arch and called Chambers. ‘Sorry, I thought I’d phoned DC Chambers’ desk.’
‘You have. It’s my desk too, and DC Stokes, but he’s on annual leave. Can I help you?’
‘It’s Stephen Bridges. We
spoke the other day.’
‘At the arches. Yes. I remember. How can I help you?’
‘I think I’ve remembered something that might be significant.’ Stephen thought he heard a hmm down the receiver, so he started to explain. ‘It’s just that ni–’
‘Hold on,’ Rees interrupted. ‘DC Chambers has just walked in.’
Stephen heard muffled voices as if Rees was covering up the mouthpiece.
‘Hello,’ came the female detective’s voice. Softer than usual, Stephen thought.
‘I’ve thought of somethi–’
‘I know,’ she interjected. ‘Sergeant Rees just informed me.’
Stephen’s shoulders drooped. It wasn’t what she said, but how she said it. He must have imagined the earlier warmth in her voice. It was all Cliff’s fault. He should never have put ideas into his mind. ‘I saw a car the other night.’
‘That’s not unusual, Mr Bridges.’
‘It is at that time of night, even on a busy bridge like Manor Bay.’
‘Okay. Tell me what make was it, what colour, that sort of thing, and we’ll look into it.’
‘I don’t know.’ Stephen thought he heard a sigh down the phone.
‘Why do you think it’s suspicious, Mr Bridges?’
‘It had no lights on.’
‘Kids, gangs, they do that sort of thing all the time. Hell, I’ve driven out of a petrol station without turning mine back on.’
‘That’s what I thought at first,’ Stephen admitted, ‘which I guess is why it slipped my mind. But the driver turned them back one once it was past me.’
‘There’s some CCTV footage. We’re looking through it now. If we should find anything, what direction was it headed in?’
‘It was coming towards me, so into Manor Park.’
‘I think it’s best that you come in and speak to Detective Inspector Hamilton and me. When are you free?’
‘I could come now.’
‘Good, come to Central Police Station. I’ll meet you in reception.’ She hung up before he could say another word.
Stephen stood and stared at his phone. Confused by the woman’s behavior, he pocketed the phone.
Stephen walked out from under the arch and looked across at the office building. There were numerous cameras on it. Surely, kidnappers wouldn’t be stupid enough to park around there, especially as they had been getting away with it for some time.
Unless they had grown complacent.
Or something had gone wrong and they were not following the plan.
Stephen looked out across the river, collected his bike and rode out of the carpark. He was just about to pull out onto the road and head back to Manor Park when something on the other side of the road caught his attention.
Stephen crossed over and walked towards the post he’d seen coming out of the tangled mess of the unmaintained hedge on the other side.
His suspicion was correct. The post should have had a sign on it identifying a footpath. A walkway cut through the vegetation down to the river bank. It was a good one hundred metre walk, and judging by the overhanging brambles and nettles, it wasn’t used much. Stephen wasn’t surprised he didn’t know of its existence. It wasn’t exactly welcoming, and cutting through the car park was much easier, and safer, even if you did have to squeeze through the hedge at the bottom.
Stephen looked up. A camera covered the bridge. It looked across into Manor Park like it was keeping an eye on the poor. Ensuring the riff-raff didn’t make it into Lady Bay.
If the kidnappers had parked their car under the camera, they could have gone down the wild footpath and not be seen. There were double yellow lines as the road turned onto the bridge, but here on the straight away from the bend it was clear of parking restrictions so any passing patrol car would have paid any parked vehicle no mind.
Stephen had assumed the outcropping of rock that Edward had mentioned was the bridge arch. Perhaps it was, but the one on this side of the road. What if Georgia had tried to hide in all the undergrowth, but wasn’t fast enough, or was still spotted?
The theory made Stephen smile for a moment – then he felt guilty. What would his mother say about pride? Stephen mounted his bike and headed over the bridge and into the city. He’d an appointment at Central Police Station.
Forty
Stephen chained his bike to a rack in Trinity Square and made his way through the crowds of shoppers and people looking for something to eat in the various chain restaurants and made his way to Central Police Station.
After a short wait in a queue, Stephen informed the receptionist he was there to see DC Chambers. He sat on a chair and waited.
What were the odds of losing two daughters? And the same way? And at the same age? Had his father been the cause? Fraser Bridges could be hard at times, and unbending, but had he done something else to the girls? Had he touched them? Stephen shook his head. It didn’t bear thinking about. His father had seemed genuinely upset. Stephen found it hard – no, impossible – to believe that he was a child molester.
A door opened to Stephen’s right. DC Chambers stood there. Her smile made his dark thoughts disappear. ‘Mr Bridges, if you’d follow me.’
Stephen got up and went through the door she was holding open for him. ‘You can call me Stephen, you know.’
‘I know. It’s this way.’ Chambers stepped past him and took a long and complicated route down corridors and up lifts. ‘We’ve got a room. DI Hamilton will be interviewing you.’
‘You’ll be there too, right?’
Chambers nodded. ‘As I explained, I’m just liaising now. Try not to worry. You’re just helping us with our enquiries.’
‘Because of–’
‘Yes,’ Chambers said before Stephen could finish his sentence. She was clearly upset by Grigg’s death. Was he just a colleague, or something more? Stephen silently chastised himself. It was a selfish thought.
They stopped outside a green doored room and Chambers said, ‘If you’ll wait in here. I’ll be back in a moment.’
Stephen entered and sat at the table in the middle of the room. A digital recorder sat at the end nearest the wall. A camera was high up in the corner of the ceiling. Stephen drummed his fingers on the table as the cold reality of the room struck him.
The door opened and a man in a blue suit, slightly unruly dark hair and a goatee came in, followed by Chambers. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Hamilton,’ he said, holding out his hand. Stephen shook it. In the other was a manila folder. He placed it on the table and the pair of detectives sat down. Hamilton reached across the table and switched on the recorder.
‘This is an informal interview. DI Hamilton and DC Chambers present with Mr Stephen Bridges. The time is twelve twenty-four P.M.’ Hamilton stopped to take a breath and then launched straight in. ‘Thank you for helping with our enquiries.’
‘You’re welcome. I just want to help.’
‘I’m sure you do, Mr Bridges. You do understand that this is a murder enquiry now?’
‘Of course. But you’re looking for Georgia too, right?’
‘Of course. I have people talking to Mr Atkins as we speak.’ There was something about the man’s tone that Stephen didn’t like. Hamilton continued. ‘What’s your connection to all this? Why are you so interested?’
Stephen wanted to shake his head in frustration. Instead, he settled for saying, ‘I’ve explained all this to DS Rees and DC Chambers.’
‘I’m aware of that, Mr Bridges. As the Senior Investigating Officer, I’ve been filled in on everything. However, I want to hear it from you.’
Stephen went over everything from the attack to Edward’s delusional explanation. He missed out his connection to Georgia. ‘I figure there’s at least two of them. There has to be. Even a complete nutter with a whole arsenal of martial arts skills couldn’t take out two people, kidnap a girl and then attack me.’
‘That’s an interesting theory, Mr Bridges, but I suggest you keep it to yourself. We’re the detectives, right?’
Stephen nodded and didn’t voice his thoughts.
‘Now I want to assure you that we’re doing everything we can to find the girl. We’re working closely with shelters, churches and other charities. They’ll let us know if they find her.’
‘And if they don’t? Didn’t you say people were being kidnapped? Isn’t it likely she’s one of those people?’
‘Then we’ll take appropriate steps. Now, DC Chambers says you have something to say about CCTV.’
‘Did you find anything?’ Stephen asked, turning his attention to Chambers.
‘We’ve looked at the footage. We have several clear views of Mr Atkins at the food van.’ Chambers slid a photograph across the table. ‘And yourself.’
Stephen pulled another picture closer. Something else, or rather someone else had drawn his attention. He put his finger on it and said, ‘That’s Georgia, there. So she was there.’
‘Yes, we know that,’ Hamilton said.
‘You didn’t mention her, that’s all,’ Stephen said, silently questioning how seriously they were taking her disappearance and probable kidnapping.
‘In this one,’ Chambers placed another photo on the table, ‘you can see Grigg. We followed him on the tape. He came out from behind the office block.’
‘I saw him,’ Stephen said. It was the man who had looked out from around the building as he rode away.
‘Apart from a few skaters, what appears to be a drug exchange and a family of foxes, nothing else went through that car park,’ Hamilton added.
‘They’re called boarders. They don’t like being called skaters. Makes them sound like Torvil and Dean.’ Stephen smiled at Hamilton’s put out expression and then carried on. ‘I’ve been to the scene. There’s an overgrown path on the other side of the road. I’ve checked and I’m fairly certain there are no cameras covering it, just the bridge. They could have parked on the street and used that route. There would be no record of their activities if they did that.’
