Unspoken Truths

by Liz Mistry

  Compo too had risen to greet the man and was subjected to a bear hug that knocked his beanie hat right off his head, revealing flattened dark curls. ‘Hey, it’s the Compster,’ said Lewis, mock sparring with Compo, bouncing on his toes and ducking like a professional boxer. Well, the man did have the Mike Tyson build.

  ‘How you doing man?’

  Gus marvelled at the fact that Compo could so easily turn on a smile for Lewis, whilst simultaneously frowning at him. He really had to find the space to put things right with the lad, but right now wasn’t the time. Right now, he had to bring Gore up to speed. Before he had the chance to start, Gore turned to him, a grin lighting up his dark features, taking the sting out of his words, ‘So, you got it in the nuts last night and in the process probably let our killer go – nice one Gus. Glad you were more on the ball – if you’ll excuse the pun – with the Tattoo Killer last year.’ The big man’s chortle rumbled up from the soles of his feet and ricocheted round the room.

  Compo would normally have laughed and attempted one of his high fives or at the very least a finger click – but no. Instead, he harrumphed and turned back to his computer station, his shoulders hunched and tense. Wishing he could shake his nerdy officer, Gus instead shrugged and turned to get Lewis some coffee. ‘Ha bloody ha. Very funny. I’m still recovering from that. However, my enforced wait at Alice’s house paid some dividends.’ He explained to Lewis about the USB stick that Compo was in the process of trying to decode.

  Handing Lewis his coffee, Gus continued, ‘This damn weather has played havoc with the investigation though. No-one’s been out and about, so the house to house enquiries brought zilch. No sightings of Izzie being dumped, no sightings of her being snatched. The last sighting we have of her is at that train wreck in Rawsforth on Friday.’

  Lewis hefted his large frame on top of one of the desks and cradled his coffee cup as he studied the crime boards. ‘Daniel Farrier showed up yet?’

  ‘No not yet. Mickey brought you up to speed?’

  ‘Mostly. Give me a quick recap.’

  ‘CCTV at Bradford Interchange showed them boarding a train to Manchester Victoria. Body language looked relaxed and normal. They both alighted in Manchester and CCTV showed them parting company at the exit. She went towards the city and he went in the opposite direction. Chance CCTV at Costa’s along from Victoria caught him entering there, but no sign of him exiting. Officers on the ground said there was a back exit that leads to a small carpark where deliveries are made. Unfortunately, there is a distinct lack of CCTV there. We trawled the CCTV in the surrounding area hoping to pick him up on foot, but no such luck. Perhaps he got a lift from the back exit and unless we know the make of the vehicle that’s a dead end.’

  ‘So what are we thinking, Gus? Someone snatched Farrier?’

  Gus shrugged, ‘What I’ve not added to the wall is the fact that Daniel Farrier is MI6. That’s only being disseminated on a need to know basis.’

  ‘That adds a different slant to things. Are the spooks being arsey with you?’

  ‘That’s about right. They’ve taken the Farrier enquiry out of my hands but of course, that’s not gonna happen. Izzie’s murder and his disappearance are linked. We just need to work out why. Hopefully, Compo will find something on that USB that’ll clarify things.’ Gus looked at Compo and received only a ‘Humph’ for his trouble.

  34

  10:55 Saddleworth Moor

  Despite the blackness that encompassed him and the pounding that started somewhere at his temples – and travelled right across his skull to the throbbing bump at the back of his head – Jordan Beaumont couldn’t close his eyes. Every time he did so, images of his daughter came alive before him – tears streaming down her face, her breath catching in her throat, screaming as her mother was tortured with slow and extreme precision. She’d railed against the man who’d held her, forcing her to watch whilst their tormentor – soaking up her anguish, feeding off it, breathing it in – grinned and continued his work with enjoyment.

  Gulping and shivering, rivers of snot rolled down Missy’s face whilst the younger brother gazed into the distance as if zoning out the butchery that was unfolding before him. The giant Turk must have raided Jordan’s sex toys, the ones he kept hidden in his office. With glee, he turned his attention to Jordan. Stuffing a ball gag in his mouth and securing it with a silk tie, he yanked Jordan’s head backwards and using another silk scarf, he tied his hands together and attached them to his feet, effectively hog-tying him.

  Jordan attempted to hold eye contact with Missy. He had to keep her as still and quiet and compliant as he could. His only thought was for her to survive this nightmare. Willing her to look at him, not at what the monster had done to her mother, he made ineffectual noises behind his gag. There was no way out of this for him, he understood that. He’d seen the mania in the older brother’s eyes. How could he, ineffectual Jordan Beaumont, out-manoeuvre and control these animals? He wished his heart hadn’t been filled with greed. Wished he’d never thought he could make a quick buck. He wasn’t bothered about Marcia. He didn’t care about her. She was dispensable – she deserved this in a way, but Missy? No, they could do what they liked to Marcia as long as they left Missy alone, as long as they let her go. He’d give anything to ensure that she came out of this in one piece – damaged emotionally for sure – but hell, she could get over this.

  The giant had stripped down to the waist now. His torso and face splattered with Marcia’s blood. His sneer wide and feral. Jordan looked at her. She’d stopped moving. Maybe she was dead. Jordan saw a red drip fall from the index finger of her left hand. It twitched once as if to flick the blood away and it stopped. A gush of air escaped her mouth and her head lolled forward.

  Jordan’s heart pounded. What the hell would the monster do now that Marcia was unresponsive? He didn’t have long to wait for an answer. Turning to Jordan, the giant grinned. A Celtic warrior about to spare his foe? Jordan didn’t think so. His shoulders ached – maybe if one of them popped out of the socket he’d be able to do something. His hip joints raged against the pull of the restraint. Who was he kidding? He’d never be able to take on the brothers. Adrenalin had control of the older one and his brother was too cowed to make a stand against him. Tears seeped from Jordan’s eyes as he looked at his daughter. She looked so small and beautiful. Her long hair, sleep-tussled, fell around her shoulders. A few stray strands stuck to her face with snot. Rope wrapped around her chest, immobilising her, keeping her upright in the chair. Her nightie rode up her legs as she squirmed in the chair and Jordan strained against the ties as he saw the Turk unbuckle his belt.

  It was what followed that pierced Jordan’s eyes through the darkness. Those were the images that would be forever seared into his retinas – the ones that stopped him from closing his eyes.

  He was in the boot of some big vehicle and it was moving, he was shaking from the cold. They’d dumped him in the back, thumped the lid down and within moments had taken off. Initially, the ride had been smooth, or as smooth as could be expected in the current conditions. Now though, they were moving more slowly. The car had skidded on a number of occasions and he’d felt the ABS kick in. He sensed they’d driven off the beaten track, which wasn’t good for him. He had no way of knowing where his daughter and wife were. Had they slung them into the back seat in order to get rid of the evidence or had they been stupid enough to have left them back at home? Either way, nobody would be alerted ‘till later on today when their cleaner was due. That’s if she even made it through the snow.

  The ride was bumpier now. Where the hell had they taken him? He had no doubt this was his last journey and he had no idea what he could do about it. Any fight had left him back at his house. All he wanted now was to get it over with.

  The vehicle stopped and, judging from the movement of the chassis, the brothers descended into the snow. He braced himself, waiting for the boot to open but it remained closed. Straining his ears for any indication of what was going o
n outside, Jordan held his breath. Nothing. It was like being in a tomb – a freezing, soundproofed tomb. His feet and hands were so numb that he felt almost complete sensory deprivation. No sight, sound, feeling. The only sensation grounding him in reality was the smell of new leather and the visions that tormented him.

  He must have drifted off, for the next thing he was aware of was a blinding light in his eyes and hands grabbing him. For a second, he thought it was some other-worldly experience – God’s hands grabbing him. It came back to him in a second. The smell of blood, combined with fresh air and the guttural sneers of the Turks brought him right back to earth. He blinked against the light, trying to see through it, to what was beyond.

  He was out of the boot, rough hands under his armpits, hauling him along. He couldn’t feel his feet, was aware only of the dull sensation of them thudding along behind him as he was dragged. If he split in two right then, he doubted he would feel a thing. He must have been crying because the taste of salt and the pain in the cracks at either side of his mouth were welcome sensations to him.

  They stopped and with a final upward hoist, he was flying through the air, only to land on his front on something hard. Again, they yanked his arms. Excruciating pain surged through his hips and shoulders. Had they amputated his limbs? He yelled behind his gag, more pain as he was turned over onto his back. It was then that he realised they’d released his restraints. A glance to the side informed him his arms were still attached to his body, but lay uselessly at his side, pain surging through them as blood tried to reach his extremities. He couldn’t focus. He wanted to move, to rail, to scream, but he was as immobile as he’d been before they released him. The younger brother lowered the light and Jordan became aware that he was lying in some sort of trough looking up at the brothers. To either side, piles of snow lay haphazardly as if they’d just been thrown there. Two spades protruded from the pile nearest his captors. Jordan realised that his ‘trough’ was actually a man-made hole in the snow – an igloo in reverse. What was worse was the look on the monster’s face as he grabbed one of the shovels, scooped up spadesful of snow and began to shovel it over Jordan’s body.

  Jordan attempted to move, ignoring the agonising pain that scorched his limbs as he tried to gain enough power to pull himself up from his tomb. Snow, hard and cold splatted on his face and Jordan could see that the monster had joined his brother – two sinister gravediggers happy in their work. As the snow layered up, weighing down, first his arms and then his legs, warmth suffused his groin area as urine soaked his pyjama bottoms. Almost immediately it turned cold and claggy as the snow fell around his head. Spluttering he tried to spit it out as it covered his mouth, his head shook from side to side as he tried to clear the ice from his nostrils and all the while the brothers laughed at his antics, slowly shovelling more and more snow until his head was trapped, leaden and still as the last shovelfuls forced his eyes closed. Slowly pinioned under the snow, his body was pushed deeper and deeper into his snowy grave. The last image burned into his vision was the terrorised and uncomprehending look on his broken daughter’s face and how gradually the light in her eyes faded and eventually died. It would haunt him throughout eternity.

  35

  13:30 The Fort

  As soon as he saw Nancy’s face, Gus jumped to his feet and strode across the office to meet her. ‘What is it? Is it my mum? Dad?’

  At his words, Compo’s head jerked up and he too made his way towards Nancy, a half-eaten Mars Bar in his hand.

  Nancy, ashen faced, placed her hand on Gus’ arm and shook her head. ‘Not your mum or your dad. It’s Alice.’

  Gus’ heart skipped a beat. Alice? Even after everything he’d recently found out, the thought of something happening to her still had the power to make his legs shake – and judging by Nancy’s expression something bad had happened. From the corner of his eye he saw Compo halt, eyes huge, flicking between Gus and Nancy.

  Gus swallowed, ‘Go on. Tell us.’

  Nancy moved past him and pulled out a seat from the table and lowered herself into it, her palms pressed onto the table, bracing herself as she lowered her frame onto the chair like someone twenty years older than she was.

  ‘She’s been raped.’

  The word ‘raped’ hung in the air – alien and toxic.

  ‘Raped?’ Compo said the word as if he’d never heard it before.

  In that moment, that single word had succeeded in sweeping away all of Gus’ anger and disappointment and frustration with Alice. Everything she’d been through over the past months hit Gus like machine-gun fire, one at a time – each making their mark, each piercing the wall he’d erected around his heart. Flashes of her grinning, laughing, teasing rolled through his mind. This was Alice – his Alice, and no matter what she’d done, surely she didn’t deserve this. ‘How? Who?’

  Nancy passed a hand over her face, ‘Fucking prison guard.’

  Shocked by Nancy’s profanity, Gus exhaled. ‘In the hospital?’

  Nancy nodded, seemingly the ability to speak too difficult as she struggled with the news. Gus dragged his hands through his dreads and began to stride to and fro across the room, his breath coming in short pants. What the fuck was going on? How many more wardens, guards or officers were going to abuse their power before it was too many? Memories of Knowles having a heart attack on the floor outside this very office flashed before him. Bastard had avoided being punished for abusing his power. He’d died quick and easy before leaving his wife and family as well as Bradford police to face the consequences of his treachery. Sean Kennedy was another one. Gus had no doubt that even if Alice had set him up, Gus was sure Kennedy was no angel. He’d read the various reports, studied his record, gone over his arrests and – reading between the lines – Kennedy was bent. Even more bent than Alice?

  He pulled his arm back and pummelled his fist into the plasterboard wall near the door. From the dent, plasterboard fell in little clouds of dust, but Gus wasn’t finished. Not by a long chalk. He drew his hand back, uncaring of the blood smears across his knuckles and was about to drive it into the wall again when he was grabbed from behind. Strong arms circled his chest, pulling him back – Lewis Gore. Gus struggled for a few moments and relaxed his body, allowing Gore to bear his weight for a few moments longer. Brushing Gore’s arms away, he took a deep breath and was just about to ask Nancy for more details when Compo – face flushed, fists clenched by his side, chin thrust out – spoke in a low voice. ‘This is down to you, Gus.’ Compo faced Nancy, ‘… And you.’ He turned and kicked the nearest desk leg. ‘Fucking let her down when she needed you the most. You make me sick, the pair of you.’ He spun on his heel and strode over to Gus, getting right in his face. ‘She always had your back. Even when you were being a twat. Oh yeah, we all bent over backwards for you, didn’t we? Took care of you.’

  His voice had escalated as he spoke, drops of saliva splattered on Gus’ face but Gus, mesmerised, just stared at Compo. Nancy made to intervene, but Gus shook his head and she backed off. Gore looked from Compo, to Gus to Nancy and back again. He stood on the balls of his feet, bouncing slightly as if ready to swerve towards any of the three of them should he deem it necessary.

  ‘We all ignored your moods and your temper and your fucking downright fucking bastarding shittiness. But you? What do you do? The minute there’s a bit of trouble you roll over and leave Alice to get on with it on her own.’

  Breathing heavily, Compo took a step back and lifted his fists up, turning his hands this way and that, as if amazed that they were clenched before unclenching them. His shoulders slumped, head tucked down, he continued in a whisper. ‘This is Alice. Alice!’ he shook his head, ‘We know her for fucking fuck’s sake. We know her. She’s not done owt wrong and now this has happened.’ He looked up, his eyes flashing. ‘You’ve let her down…’ his voice hitched ‘We’ve all let her down – every fucking one of us. She’s worth ten of all of us and we’ve left her on her own to be violated and abused. Hope you’re proud of
yourself Gus. Hope you’re fucking proud.’ And he turned back to his computers, rammed his headphones on and pointedly turned his chair away from them.

  Nancy sighed and closed her eyes. Gore patted Gus on the shoulder and went back to the desk he’d taken over. Gus stood there, hands loose at his sides, head full of conflicting thoughts. Reeling from the news of yet more trauma for Alice, compounded by Compo’s uncharacteristic response, a sudden heaviness settled in Gus’ limbs. He’d completely underestimated how badly Alice’s absence had affected Compo. Not only that, Compo’s words had hit his jugular. It hadn’t taken much for him to assume the worst regarding Alice. He’d been quick to accept that his Alice – his sister Alice – was worse than Knowles and Kennedy put together. How the hell had that happened?

  A month ago, he’d been convinced of her innocence, now a few weeks later he’d been easily convinced of her guilt. He hadn’t stood in her corner, fighting tenaciously for her till every shred of proof was either dispelled or proven. Alice, small though she may be, had never ever wavered in her support of him and his family; not when he killed Greg, not when Gabriella left him for Katie, not when he withdrew into himself, not when he was too selfish, too wrapped up in his own guilt to visit her when she was near death, and not when he went off grid to protect his mum. Now he’d let her down, not once, but twice. What sort of friend was he? What sort of boss? Every word Compo had uttered was true. He looked at Nancy and her slow nod and slight smile told him that she understood.