by J Paton
Again, it was a struggle to keep the curse inside. I placed my drink down on the wooden coffee table and gave my full attention to the man sat on the other sofa. “You know, don’t you?”
I could almost believe that the yellow eyes that reminded me of a tigers were those of a predator when it watched its prey. Mr. Bridges didn’t pretend not to understand, nodding instead. “I have an eidetic memory.”
“Just my fucking luck,” I answered.
He chuckled, but it held no mirth. “It’s my curse—”
He was cut short by a phone ringing on the counter behind him, Mr. Bridges getting up to answer it. Hoping it would ease my dry mouth and fluttering stomach, I picked up the glass and drank deeply.
Only half-listening to the conversation going on behind me, I gazed around the room. It was bright and cheerful, the view in front of me giving the place a quiet calmness that belied the busy city outside the window.
“Sorry about that. I’ve asked Sam to send Isaac up.” Mr. Bridges returned to the seat he’d vacated. “I’ve also asked him to call Phil Knight and see if he’s free to come here, or whether he can call us.”
I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or relieved that we hadn’t returned to the topic of conversation we’d been having before being interrupted, but I was too intrigued by the mention of a name that for some reason resonated with me. “Phil Knight?”
“He’s the one who reviewed our security and installed the new cameras after Devon turned up in the club the first time.”
“What? Sorry you’ve lost me, Mr. Bridges, the first time?” The fizzy liquid swished around my stomach. What the fuck was going on here? I’d read the files—all of them. There’d been no mention of another incident, I was sure of it.
“For fuck’s sake, call me Nathan. And yes, the first time.” He licked his lips, something passing across his face, but it was gone before I could work out what it had been. “After having surgery, Lenny was being difficult and pushing at me. So, to show him who was in charge and how much I took his health seriously, I…”
As Nathan explained what had happened, I nodded in agreement. I totally got Nathan’s point of view about his partner needing to understand how a Dom felt towards their sub’s safety. It was vital in any kind of power exchange relationship.
“Anyway, about five minutes from the end of his punishment, he became distressed and used his safe word. It turned out that Devon had been watching the scene from the back of the room, and Lenny didn’t like the way the guy was staring at him. Devon had stolen a work top, so we’d initially thought he was an employee at the club. It was only once Lenny had described the dude to us that Ferron told us who it was. It transpired that Devon and his business partner had been hired to install our security system.” He all but spat the words out, as if they left a bad taste in his mouth. “Devon had no problem disabling the security cameras using the codes they had on file. This all happened the day before the kidnapping.”
“Was this information shared with any of the officers?” At the nod that came from Nathan, a curl of dread weaved its way through my body and held me by the throat.
Had it been in the report? Had I missed it? I didn’t think so, but I could have skim read it.
Maybe.
“It was. Not by me, but by Isaac, I’m sure,” Nathan explained with a frown marring his brow.
Almost as if the man had heard his name, the door opened, Mr. Corrigan standing on the threshold with Mr. Robertson at his side.
“Isaac, thanks for coming up.” Nathan’s gaze landed on the man at Isaac’s side and he sighed. “I told Sam you needed to come up alone.”
The fear etched into Mr. Robertson’s face left me trying to ease it. “It’s fine, Mr. Robertson. I just wanted a few words with your partner.”
“Then it’s not fine, is it?” he said, calling me out.
I conceded the point, tilting my head in acknowledgement. “You’re right. But this is more about…” I trailed off not sure how to explain my need to know what other information these men had.
“You want to know what I showed the Detective Inspector, don’t you?”
There was no point in denying it. “Yes. Yes, I do.
Phil
The phone on my desk rang. I saved what I’d been working on before reaching for it. “Hello, Security Specialist Advisors, Phil Knight speaking, how can I help?”
“This is Detective Chief Inspector McHart. I’m currently involved in an investigation and I’ve been given your contact details, along with information that you supplied to a Mr. Corrigan. I need to meet to discuss this further. We can do it down at police headquarters.”
The arrogant tone and implication I should jump to whatever demands DCI McHart made, pissed me off instantly. Given that I’d learnt all sorts of techniques to reduce my reaction to situations and people, this was no mean feat. Was the case getting to me?
It had been a few days since Isaac had shared the information with the police. Why had it taken this dude all that time to contact me? “No, I’m sorry that won’t work for me. I’ve got a lot going on work-wise. If you want to discuss the information I supplied, then I’ll need you to come to my office.” I was polite but firm. If he wanted to talk to me, then it would be on my terms, not his.
There was silence, which I didn’t bother to fill. In my experience, the police used silence to cause uncertainty and anxiety. I was past playing those sorts of games.
“I’ll come at three pm. And your address is?” He was pissing me about. I was sure that he must have checked me and my firm out, and already knew the address. I didn’t quibble though, giving it to him and ending the call a minute later.
As I put the phone down, my mind raced with what I was going to need to have ready before McHart arrived with his questions. After not receiving a call in the first couple of days, I’d set aside what I’d collated, too busy with other work.
I got up and went over to the wall of cabinets I used to store files. I usually printed them off to share with clients and, even though the officer wasn’t my client, I’d still give him the same courtesy. Back in my seat, I tapped the file while I questioned once more why it had taken him so long to reach out to me. Was it because this was a security business? Possibly. But what Ferron had shared, would surely warrant a quicker pace than that of a snail?
Gabriel’s intro to the cellar or “hellhole” as he’d named it had added a new urgency due to what he’d discovered down there. I’d been disappointed that he hadn’t been able to say whether Immanuel was one of the men chained to the walls. I rubbed at my temples, unable to rid myself of the vivid description Gabriel had supplied. One visit, and Gabriel had been honest about the way it ate at him to have to leave those men there.
We’d argued about how Riley might have some sort of backstory that showed those men had consented. Dom’s Haven was a slick operation with numerous levels of protection to it. I’d go as far as to say it went beyond the four years of information I’d obtained. These men were old hands, and were likely to have a plausible story for what went on down there. The research I’d done on BDSM lifestyles showed that a subculture existed, one that many would think was extreme when it came to what was considered acceptable. It had turned my stomach, but I’d used it to hammer home why Gabriel needed more evidence than simply a gut feeling.
Given Gabriel’s interpretation of the terror those men were experiencing, it was doubtful that they’d speak out. No, we needed to identify Immanuel. We knew that no one had accessed his home, or his bank account, and from what his parents had said about him, he wasn’t someone who would willingly give up the finer things in life. His parents had also spoken about his strength of character, and I hoped they were right, because if he’d been in that cellar all the time he’d been missing then he’d need every bit of it.
My heart rattled unpleasantly against my ribs as I did a recap on what to share with the police without getting myself into hot water, to distract myself.
A couple of hours late
r, the phone interrupted me again and I reached for it. “Phil Knight,” I answered distractedly as I stared at the file I’d been reading.
“Phil, it’s Sam. I work for Nathan and he’s asked me to call and see if it’s possible for you to come to the warehouse. There’s someone here that wants to talk to you about what you shared with Isaac.”
That got my attention. “Who is it?”
“The head officer involved at New Year. Parks, I believe his name is.”
I frowned and checked the time. “I’m sorry, I’ve got another meeting scheduled that I can’t break. Let him know I can meet him tomorrow.”
There was some discussion in the background, but it was too quiet for me to hear. A few seconds later and he was back on the line. “I’ve got him on another phone and he says that won’t work.”
“Shit, next week is already jammed full. Tell Nathan to give him my number. I can do next Thursday afternoon if that works… tell Parks to text me his address and I’ll come to him.”
There was more muffled discussion before Sam confirmed he’d do that. When the call ended, I stared at the phone. Was it a coincidence that another copper wanted to talk to me?
I ran a hand through my hair when I didn’t come up with an answer. Checking the time, I sighed and focused back on what I’d been reading.
It was the sound of the buzzer on my front door that pulled me from my work, work that often got in the way of everything. It was the reason I was single. I rubbed at my bleary eyes and realised I’d forgotten to put on my glasses, which explained why my eyes were aching as I glanced at the security feed from my front door and tried to focus. The face of a man who looked like he’d swallowed a lemon filled the screen for a second before he stepped back.
“Oh joy,” I muttered under my breath.
There was another man with him, his expression giving nothing away. I pressed the intercom. “Hello, how can I help you?” I asked.
I watched the man’s lip curl as he confirmed my suspicion. “It’s Detective Chief Inspector McHart and Detective Inspector Thompson to see Mr. Phil Knight.”
I pressed the button to release the lock. “Come in. Go straight to the lift. You need level three to get to my office.”
They stepped inside and I waited for the door to close behind them before I turned off the camera. I wasn’t concerned about them snooping, the lift currently programmed to only come to the floor my office was on. I went over to the small alcove where I kept my coffee machine and set it to make a fresh pot. By the time I’d done that there was a knock at my office door.
“Come in,” I called out, adding extra mugs to the tray along with cream and sugar. I glanced back, keeping my expression blank at the expression on both men’s faces. Gabriel had once said my office resembled the Starship Enterprise, what with all the gadgets, monitors and computers in the room. The air conditioning was on all year round to keep the heat down. The whole room was geared to my love of all things gadget-related, and my computers could do all manner of things the police would definitely have an issue with if they ever found out.
“Take a seat.” I nodded to the two in front of my desk, the hissing sound from the coffee maker indicating it was ready.
By the time I’d turned back with the tray, the men had sat, both looking around with a lot of interest. “Coffee? It’s a fresh pot.”
“Please,” DI Thompson said.
Sourpuss pursed his lips for a second before finally nodding.
Once I’d ascertained how they took it and had given them their drinks, I picked up the file from the corner of my desk and went over to the photocopier. Returning to the desk, I handed a copy to each detective and then sat.
I directed my attention to McHart. “In those files you’ll find collaborating evidence to go with the email I sent to Isaac.” At McHart’s raised brow, I added, “Mr. Corrigan.” I sat back. “I’ll let you have a read first, then you can ask any questions you might have.”
Sourpuss’s lips pursed again as he opened the file and started to read. The other detective took several sips of his coffee, making an appreciative sound before he opened his file. Familiar with the data, I sipped my coffee paying attention to McHart’s reactions. The man did not have a good poker face.
Several minutes passed before McHart glanced up. I gave him a smile. “Questions?”
“I’ve got lots of questions, Mr. Knight.”
“Oh, please call me Phil.”
He inclined his head. “Phil, can we start with why you have an interest in Dom’s Haven?”
That was easy to answer. “I don’t, per se. What I do have is an interest in finding a missing person. A family reported their son missing at the end of September 2019 to the police. After saying that there’d been a disagreement, they were largely ignored.”
“There are thousands of people reported missing every year. Most cases are a result of some sort of fight, and the person turns up at some point, many police hours having been wasted in the meantime,” DCI McHart blustered, his face turning a deep shade of red.
I held up my hand in a placatory move. “I know. You asked me a question and I’m trying to answer it.” I tilted my head to one side and waited.
“Continue,” he spat out through gritted teeth.
“Thank you. Where was I? Oh yes. After they were turned away, they came to me to see if my firm could help.” I inclined my head towards the file. “In there, are all the steps I’ve taken, and how my search led me to Dom’s Haven. It was the last place Immanuel was seen heading to after leaving his apartment. Since then, he’s not accessed his bank account or returned home. His belongings remain in his home, and nothing has been removed as far as the family can tell.” I sat forward, pinning McHart with a hard stare. “Would you say that warrants a missing person file, or a follow-up at the very least?”
His eyes narrowed. “There is no record that the family went back with any more information.”
Had he checked before he came to see me? “No, you’re right, they didn’t. But then why would they after they’ve already been told they’re wasting police time?”
A high colour remained in McHart’s cheeks, his eyes glittering with temper. “There is no mention in here that you’ve been successful in finding this missing boy, Immanuel? It’s been what nearly eight months? That seems like an awfully long time without a result. Are you still billing the family?”
The snide insult didn’t get a rise out of me. I’d had insults thrown at me before, from police officers who thought the services I offered were bogus. They couldn’t be more wrong. “My arrangement with the family has nothing to do with you, or why you’re here today. Can we get back to the questions which pertain to your investigation?” I smiled pleasantly, holding his gaze over the rim of my mug as I sipped my coffee.
“Why are you convinced that Dom’s Haven has something to do with this boy’s disappearance?”
“It’s all in the file. I’ve pieced together the last known whereabouts of Immanuel in the three days before he went missing. The application form for Dom’s Haven was saved on his computer.” I gestured towards the file they each held. “It’s in there.”
I took another sip of my coffee as I marshalled my thoughts. “The application form wasn’t something I was familiar with, so I researched other clubs and the forms they use for membership. I also checked out the forms Dom’s Haven use for men who claim to be Dom’s. That form has several glaring differences to the one for subs and I’ve highlighted them in yellow. I’ve printed off the other club’s forms to demonstrate the differences. The other clubs have only one membership form for all applicants.”
“What’s the issue here? Dom’s Haven has two forms. So what?” McHart asked impatiently, his fingers tapping the open file.
“Firstly, when I contacted the other clubs to ask about membership forms, none of them saw a need for two separate forms. Secondly, they don’t insist on personal information about next of kin. The Dom’s Haven application form will not le
t you move on unless that part has been completed. Thirdly, a Dom’s application has no such requirement. And lastly, Dom’s Haven don’t ask about experience or preferences for subs, like they do for Dom’s. The sub application form is a filter to weed out vulnerable men.”
McHart’s jaw clenched. “You can’t confirm that. That’s total speculation.”
“Speculation? No, I don’t believe it is, but I won’t argue. In regards to confirming what I’ve willingly shared with you, that’s your job, isn’t it? Isn’t that why you’re here today, to gather the information and see if it warrants further investigation?” Even though my stomach was churning, I remained lounging in my chair. There was something about the detective, besides him being a pompous arse, that was starting to set my nerves alight.
“Are you telling me how to do my job?”
Detective Inspector Thompson fidgeted in his seat, his gaze remaining on the file in his lap.
“No, I’m merely pointing out the information I found and I’m sharing it with you freely, so it can be looked into further. I’ve also supplied the names and contact numbers of those people I’ve spoken with. They are more than willing to confirm what’s in the file.” I kept any mention of Gabriel quiet for now, not ready to share the fact that I had a man working undercover in the club yet. The police could get Gabriel to work as a police source, and that was the last thing either of us wanted.
McHart’s sneer was back. “What’s your involvement with Mr. Corrigan and Mr. Robertson?”
My eyes narrowed at the unexpected change of topic. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at?”
He shifted forward, the paper on his lap rustling while DI Thompson remained silent. “What relationship do you have with both men?”
Did he think I was sexually involved with one of them? His tone implied something other than a business relationship. “How is this pertinent to your investigation? I’m an acquaintance of Mr. Corrigan.”
“Have you spent time with Mr. Corrigan at The Playroom?”
“Again… how or why is this pertinent?” My lack of answer had McHart grinding his teeth.
