Time to Play (North East Police)

by K. A. Richardson

  One eye opened a slit; at least she thought it did. The room was still dark, and for a moment she panicked, thinking that he had hurt her so badly that she’d gone blind. Slowly though, she saw the soft glow of the heater tucked into the corner by the door.

  Gingerly, she manoeuvred herself around and cautiously pulled herself into a sitting position. Her stomach felt swollen and sore, and hot pain rippled through it with the movement, causing her to gasp. She fought the dizziness that threatened her consciousness, and gently touched her face.

  Her left eye was swollen shut, and she felt dried blood all over her nose and cheeks. Her whole body felt like a mass of agony, so much so that she couldn't distinguish which part felt worse.

  Her tongue felt dry and cracked, and she felt around for a bottle of water.

  As her fingers closed around it, she realised there wasn't a lot left, but it would quench her thirst. Taking a sip, she winced as sharp needles of pain roared through her lips.

  As she replaced the lid on the water, her head spun. She felt like she was on a merry-go-round in the dark, and the bottle slipped from her grasp as her head lolled to her chest once more, the pain easing into nothingness as she passed out.

  13th November, 1410 hours - off the coast of Seaham, County Durham

  'OK guys, pack it up for now. We'll break for half an hour or so, warm up and what not. Start her up, Mac,' said Sharpie. He ran his hand through his hair and looked weary. 'When we come back out me and Marlo will dive.'

  They pulled the RIB up on the shore, and Mac caught the 4x4 keys as Sharpie threw them over.

  'Chips and coffee, please, mate,' he said with a grin.

  Mac took the rest of the orders, and knowing Marlo would come with him, headed for the car.

  'Not chips then,' he said to her as he turned the key.

  'God no, you know I can't bear those greasy horrible potato sticks from the sea front.' Marlo grimaced at the thought. She knew the others thought it odd, but she couldn't abide chip shop chips. 'I'd kill for a cuppa and a pee, though. You going to the chippie near the amusements? There's a cafe round the corner: I'll pop and get something from there.'

  When they got back to the shore, Connor, Doc and Sharpie clambered in the back, unwrapped their chips and dived in.

  Marlo breathed in deeply, for all she hated the taste, the smell of chip shop chips couldn't be beaten. Unwrapping her ham salad sandwich, she waited for the ribbing to start. Never one to miss a trick, Sharpie chimed in, 'Rabbit food? Thought your suit looked a little snug on the hips. Put on a few pounds have you?'

  'Cheeky git,' said Marlo, knowing he was joking. She was one of the lucky ones, her body weight rarely altered from the lean, physically fit shape she'd had for years. She knew other women hated her for it; it wasn't even like she tried to keep it steady. She loved her wine, ate takeout a couple of nights a week and if she wanted chocolate she had it. She acknowledged it was probably why she seemed to get on better with blokes: there was less competition and more comfort. Granted they ribbed her about being afraid of blood, but that was par for the course. Hell, she could fart in front of these guys if the need took her and it would just be accepted as matter of course. Not that she did that. She smiled to herself, that sort of stuff was best kept for when she was diving.

  Taking a sip of the coffee she nearly gagged. 'Blurgh, trailer coffee. Still, it's hot and wet.'

  'Chips… good ...' mumbled Doc with his mouthful.

  'Take it easy, you don't want to cramp up.'

  'Aye OK, Mum,' he replied. Knowing she was right though, he ate a few more then wrapped the rest back up.

  'Couple of minutes wander about and we'll get back to it,' said Sharpie, pushing open the rear door.

  14th November, 0910 hours - Dive Team HQ, South Shields

  Elvie paused at the base of the stairs, listening intently. She'd heard the team leave a few minutes ago, not the team with the girl on – she wasn't sure where they were – but the team of all men had left in a mass of raucous laughter, one of them obviously sharing something funny. There didn't seem to be anyone upstairs and the whole building had fallen silent. She couldn't wait any longer though, she was desperate for the toilet.

  She padded up the stairs to the bathroom at the top and dipped inside swiftly. She'd gotten into the routine of knowing when the teams were on duty, and she tried to time venturing from her hiding place around the hours they weren't there.

  Yesterday she'd even wedged open the door to the rear yard, and had found a heavy coat that almost drowned her slight form. Venturing outside, she'd been surprised at how cold it had been. Did it get even colder in this country? She didn't know, but either way it had been nice getting outside and breathing in the fresh sea air. The village she came from was near the coast, a good bus-ride from the main city of Manila. She missed the smell of the ocean, and the people. She'd never felt as lonely as she did in this country. Her grandmother sprung into her mind as she washed her face. She'd have moved heaven and earth to get Elvie back. She'd have died stopping those men from taking her. For the first time since her Noni had died, Elvie was glad she wasn't alive to witness where she was now, was glad she hadn't had to put up with the pain of losing her. She was surprised to find that the easy tears that had sprung to her eyes every time she thought of her grandmother, this time stayed at bay.

  She jumped in the shower, rinsing herself down and dressing in some of the clothes she'd found the night before. The combat trousers hung off her, but she tied some string around the waist as a kind of make-shift belt, and they stayed resting on her hips. The t-shirt she donned had the old dive team logo on, not that she would know that. The insignia had changed a few years ago when the three forces had amalgamated. The old, out-of-date stock was left lying around because no-one had quite got around to returning it to stores for destruction. The whole building was very untidy, with bits of kit and equipment lying in the rooms that were not used on a regular basis. The building had originally held some admin staff, as well as three dive teams and had facilitated training courses for a lot of the police divers from around the country. The job cuts in the force had left the whole building being used by the two dive teams alone.

  Finishing in the bathroom, she peeked into the canteen area to ensure no-one was there, and entered, making a beeline for the fridge.

  One shelf was full of food, boxes containing sandwiches, yogurt, and other goodies, and one box that held something that looked like roast chicken with all the traditional English trimmings. Making her choice of chicken, she grabbed a couple of chocolate bars and some pop and headed back to the make-shift den under the stairs.

  The guilt she'd initially felt at stealing had abated; at the end of the day she had to eat and had no other means than those at her disposal to do so. One day she'd find a way to replace all she'd taken, but for now she'd eat whatever was left.

  As she finished the cold chicken and vegetables, she realised she felt restless. She didn't want to go to sleep, or sit here thinking all day. It felt like forever since she'd spoken to another person. The last person had been Danny. She wondered again what had happened to him, why he hadn't come to get her like he'd said he would. And Nita, what had happened to her? Nothing good, Elvie knew, not judging from how out of it she'd been in that horrid building on Wear Street. But was she even still alive?

  Leaving the empty plastic tub that had held the dinner on the ground near the pile of coats and tarps she slept under, she grabbed the jacket and threw it over her shoulders, wedged the door open and went outside.

  The people who worked there had taken one of the larger rubber-bottomed boats. She knew they had two more under the shelter in the yard. Wandering to the edge at the back, she looked out onto the sea. It was dark and menacing, nothing like the sea near her home. Thick black clouds raced over her head, and she shivered, pulling the edges of the coat tighter to her middle. The yard was only open at the side that backed onto the sea. Large pointy fencing surrounded the other sides and t
he only access to the yard was either through the building or through a mechanical gate that didn't open unless something went over the sensor embedded into the concrete. Even if she decided to leave by it, she knew she'd never get back in.

  Burning off some of her energy, she raced from one end of the yard to the other. It felt good to exert herself, she could feel her heart start to pound and her breath turned shallow and fast. Finally spent, she made her way back inside.

  14th November, 1620 hours - Sunderland Police HQ

  '... anything else to add?' asked Ali, glancing around the table at his team. Seeing the repeated head shaking, he nodded and closed his folder and stood, effectively dismissing them. Mumbled speech ensued as they left the room.

  He hated these meetings. A known paedophile had been released from prison and had been seen near one of the local schools. The meeting had held police, social services and the man's probation officer. 'Dirty Darren' was well known around the nick, and the neighbourhood. Ali had thought the last offence would have kept him locked up for much longer than the twelve months he'd served. Not long enough by any means: rehabilitation wasn't an option for Darren, either. He got off on looking at images of young boys, and there was no way twelve months behind bars would change that. But until they had something definitive to get him on, they'd just have to watch and wait.

  Leaving the room, he almost collided with the superintendent.

  'Sorry, ma’am, I wasn't watching where I was going.'

  'My office, McKay,' replied his boss, motioning with her hand for Ali to pass.

  Bloody great, here we go. He couldn't help but think about the last meeting where he'd been told there might not be enough funds to keep paying him.

  'I've had a look at the financial situation. At the moment it looks like we are OK to keep you on as a secondment – at least that's how it looks at present. You're a good cop, McKay, and I think the force benefits from you being here so I’d rather not send you back up to Scotland. You hadn't put plans in place to head back up, I trust?'

  Ali felt lighter than a feather at that point, and shook his head. 'No, ma’am. I'm happy to stay here as long as you need me.'

  'Good to know. This may be a little pre-emptive, but why don't you fill in your transfer papers. Cooper and Mathers are taking their thirties this year. It'd be helpful not to have to advertise externally. It's no guarantee of acceptance of course, but I'd be happy to endorse your transfer and give you some coaching on the application if you need it.'

  Ali sat back in his seat, shocked. Less than a fortnight ago he'd been told they mightn't be able to pay him and now they were telling him to transfer in on a permanent basis. He wondered if there was a hidden agenda he was unaware of, but nodded at the woman sat in front of him.

  'That would be great, ma’am, thank you.' He left the super's office, and smiled to himself. Whatever the hidden agenda was, he didn't care.

  Even before the secondment had come up, he hadn't been happy. Everything in Edinburgh reminded him of Tina. He couldn't even walk down Princes Street without something slapping him in the face, forcing him to remember what he'd lost. He felt the ache in his chest, but today it seemed a little less severe. He let himself remember her wavy hair and sparkling hazel eyes, and the wide smile she'd given whenever she'd been with him. They'd been so happy. It wasn't fair. Even now he'd have given everything to have gone instead of her.

  Panic threatened to rise from his belly as he remembered the large expanse of dark water, and he found it difficult to push the memories back. He knew he'd have to face them one day, be able to think about what happened without running away. But he couldn’t imagine how he'd ever be ready to do it.

  Spending the night with Marlo though, had left him... What? Hopeful maybe? At peace? He didn't think it was the latter, not yet. But he felt kind of like there was now a potential for it, where before remembering had always swamped him. He'd never been able to picture himself being able to move on.

  Now though, he just didn't know.

  It felt good though, to allow the grief close to the surface without thinking it would consume him. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

  He sat at his desk and pulled the top file from the pile to his right.

  He'd find Marlo later; maybe try and talk through some of the awkwardness from the day before.

  14th November, 1810 hours - Ryhope, Sunderland

  He unlocked the door and entered the room, apprehensive as to what he'd find. He felt bad for beating the girl so severely. He barely remembered anything except blind rage. Part of him expected to find her dead. It had scared him, if he was honest. He'd never in his life lost control so horrifically.

  He flicked the light switch, illuminating the room in bright, artificial light.

  As he saw the girl, he gasped loudly.

  Cuts and bruises covered her face and arms. He could only imagine what the rest of her looked like. She was slumped against the side of the cage, her head lolling onto her chest.

  What have I done? The poor girl. She didn't deserve this. I didn't mean for it to happen, not this way.

  He opened the cage door and pulled her out as gently as he could.

  I should take her to hospital, I could tell them I found her like this. But he shook his head, they'd get an interpreter and she would tell them the truth about the monster who had kept her in a cage and beaten her.

  Stepping back, he knew what he had to do. He'd done it before.

  It was different this time though: normally he didn't care. If they died during his teachings then they weren't strong enough to cope with pain. It was never about him killing them. They had to learn to cope and if they didn’t, then they died. But he was connected to this one somehow, it made him sad to think he would have to end it.

  Out of habit, he turned the video camera on and started speaking: 'Subject seven, day ten. I lost my temper with the girl yesterday, beat her too much. It wasn't her fault. I lost control. She gave me her name, Nita. She's hurt badly, barely even stirred as I took her from the cage. I couldn't stop.' His voice broke on the words, and tears filled his eyes. 'I need to make sure she doesn't tell anyone. This is the last time. I'm not taking any more girls. I can't do this again.'

  He took a breath and stared at her, knowing he would never forget her face, and always remember how hard she fought to live. It was definitely time to stop, he was tired, so exhausted with his whole life that it felt like it physically hurt him.

  Sighing, he clamped his hands around her throat and squeezed hard, ignoring the feeling of desolation that flooded through him.

  He heard her try and catch her breath, felt her feeble struggle beneath his hands.

  She was too spent, though, to struggle hard, and he felt the moment she gave up fighting. But still he held on tight, sad tears trickling down his face and onto her cheek.

  What's happened to me? When did I get to the point that I could kill without mercy, just to protect myself.

  He only stopped squeezing when he could no longer feel the flutter of her heart against his fingers. And he wiped his hands across his face, clearing the tears.

  He had no right to cry. This girl had needed teaching, but he'd moved from that and made it personal. That was his fault.

  Leaving her in the chair, he left the room and locked up.

  The red light on the video camera blinked, still recording.

  Chapter Twenty

  14th November, 1940 hours - Dive Team HQ, South Shields

  Marlo was exhausted, the kind of tired so deep her bones ached. She'd spent three hours in the water, alternating times with Sharpie, but despite several blips showing on the sonar, they were no closer to finding the old man who'd gone under.

  Mitchell, the DI handling the investigation, had stood them down when they returned to station. It wasn't viable to conduct further dives. The likely scenario was that he had gotten into difficulty and drowned. His body would probably wash up somewhere along the coast thanks to the tidal movement.
<
br />   It felt bad, not finding the body. Marlo knew the family wouldn't get any closure until he was found.

  Not every case got to her, in fact most didn't. She had become good at compartmentalising, the same as anyone who saw and dealt with what she did on a daily basis. But this one had. She hadn’t wanted to negotiate the drive home while full of emotion. She made an excuse about having paperwork to do and stayed behind after everyone left, reassuring Sharpie that she was fine so he would go too. Then she’d had taken a long shower and cried. Deep, wracking sobs for the old man she couldn’t find.

  She could imagine how he'd felt, taking the same swimming route he took three times a week only to be caught out by a rip tide. She could feel him struggle against the pull, using his strength trying to get out but only ending up further in. And she could imagine the very second when he gave up, the second he became too tired to fight any more. She wondered whether he'd whispered goodbye to his family as Davy Jones pulled him deeper into the locker.

  Feeling tear prick at her eyes again, she realised she was more tired than she'd initially thought. It wasn't often she got emotional like this. It was time to go home.

  By the time she came out of the bathroom, she'd calmed down.

  So when she came face to face with a young girl in an extinct piece of uniform, she'd frozen in shock.

  The girl looked to be about sixteen years old; slender framed with dark hair surrounding her petite face. She looked terrified.

  'Easy, love,' said Marlo softly, holding her hands out in front of her, trying to make herself as non-threatening as she could.

  It didn't work though; the girl spun on her heels and practically flew down the stairs.

  Marlo followed, and heard the door at the bottom slam into the external wall to the building seconds later.