Dead and Gone

by Tina Glasneck

  Ellis wiped his eyes and turned in his seat to study the girl. She lay on her side in the foetal position at the bottom of the storage chest that formed the campervan’s bench seating. He’d removed the seat cushions so she’d have enough air for the journey from Birmingham. Didn’t want the little tart dying of suffocation before they reached journey’s end, now did they? That would not do. Not after the last time.

  “Should I check on her?”

  “Nah. Leave her for a while.” Jenkins leaned against the headrest and closed his eyes.

  Ellis wished he could be as confident as his mentor was, but nerves still attacked him. He stared in the mirror again.

  Hottie existed solely for pleasure while it lasted. A couple of days. A week? It didn’t matter. Plenty more bodies like her could be bought for shiny baubles and fancy meals.

  She twitched in her sleep and the covers slipped to expose a long smooth thigh and large round buttock. Pale white skin showed where her blouse pulled out from the waistband of the black skin-tight micro skirt. The tiny silver bar, with a ball at each end, pierced the girl’s belly button. The skin around the piercing showed red, not quite healed. She twitched again.

  “Poor cow’s having a nightmare,” he said.

  “She’d better get used to it.” Jenkins snorted and licked his lips. “Won’t be long now Ellis, ma boy. Take it easy. Have patience.”

  Ellis smirked. “She practically begged me to take her. Then changed her mind. Stupid bitch.”

  “She’ll be begging again later on.” Jenkins smiled the thin smile of his and the new green eyes seemed to glow in the dim light. Ellis trembled. Anticipation was almost as good at the act itself.

  This one, Hottie, was the youngest and prettiest yet. She would struggle, scream, and plead, but it wouldn’t do her any good. She’d go the way of all the others before her. Ellis felt no remorse; he’d rather dish out the punishment than be on the receiving end. His cock stiffened at the thought of the games to come. He smiled and Jenkins nodded, staring at Ellis’s crotch.

  “You like this one, don’t ye’. Turns you on.”

  “Not as much as you do, Arth—, er, Jenkins. You’ll always be the one for me.”

  “Ay, son. But patience. Won’t be long now.”

  One more step to freedom. The cottage beckoned. Hottie would entertain both of them, and the viewers, for a while. Then they’d move on to someone else found in a different place. Could life get any better?

  The car in front inched forward in the queue. Ellis slipped the campervan into first gear and closed the gap. Another five vehicles separated them from passport control. After that, they faced a forty-minute wait to board, an hour’s sail to Calais, and a nine-hour drive to the cottage. The drive would be a pig, but he could take it. Patience was a virtue after all, and the delay would heighten the anticipation.

  The delights of the cold, dark cellar and the bright, white place waited. Each room, fitted with anchoring points, chains, and leather straps, would fill with Hottie’s screams and her blood. Rooms of darkness and light, both equally nasty, and neither offering comfort.

  Ellis smiled, and his skin prickled with anticipation.

  The queue nudged along again and he maintained his place. The ticket kiosk grew larger in the windscreen. Guards would be able to see inside the campervan soon.

  Jenkins pointed to the back. “Better check her now. But be quick.”

  They had travelled this route with their special contraband before. Nobody ever stopped them on the outbound journey, only on their way back into the UK. There could always be a first time.

  Ellis yanked hard on the parking brake and it clicked on its ratchet. He sidestepped between the front seats to access the compact living compartment, and leaned in to open her eyelid—pupil wide, non-responsive. To make sure, and because he wanted to, Ellis smacked Hottie’s exposed arse-cheek, hard. The slap echoed in the confines of the van, but the girl didn’t move.

  A big red palm print formed on her pale buttock. Yep, still out. They’d given her enough anaesthetic.

  The orthopaedic neck brace he fitted to keep her airway open worked. Hottie still breathed.

  “She’s fine. Still dead to the world. Be out for a while yet, I reckon.”

  Ellis lowered the plywood panel hinged to the side of the box to hide the prize from prying eyes. He covered it with jeans, t-shirts, and a couple of jumpers, replaced the seat cushion, and patted it into place.

  Perfect.

  A concentrated search would find her, and he would not be able to relax until they were aboard the ferry, in safety, but that was part of the excitement, part of the rush.

  “This is where I get off. You gonna to be okay without me holding your hand?” Jenkins asked.

  Ellis smiled. “I’ll be fine. No need to worry about me … honest.”

  “But I always worry about you, angel. It’s what I live for.”

  Ellis beamed. He was loved, and that made everything better.

  Jenkins reached a hand to the footwell and grabbed the small overnight bag. He never went anywhere without the bloody thing. Ellis often wondered about its contents but never thought to ask. Jenkins winked goodbye, pushed open the passenger door, and eased himself to the ground, stifling a grunt. Leaning on his walking stick, he crabbed sideways between two lanes of queuing vehicles.

  Ellis never asked about the injury, and his lover never explained, but the limp had worsened since they met in 2002. He watched his teacher/lover shuffle forty metres along a walkway marked with crosshatched yellow paintwork, and push through a door showing a sign, ‘Foot Passengers Only’.

  “Catch you later,” Ellis mumbled and swallowed. Alone again, he was vulnerable. Scary-wired.

  The cars in front cleared and he rolled the camper to a stop alongside the passport control kiosk. A middle-aged sourpuss with glasses and a hairy mole on her chin took his papers. She compared the photo with his face. He gave her the benefit of his winning smile and she thawed as they always did. He effected the cows that way—the benefit of having a pretty-boy face. Mum told him he’d be a heart breaker one day. How right she was, but it wasn’t only hearts he broke.

  The fat woman craned her neck to stare at the back of the cabin. Ellis held his breath but kept the smile fixed in place until she returned the passport. He forced himself not to snatch it from her stubby little hand.

  “The wind’s getting up, sir. I hope the crossing isn’t too rough.”

  “Thank you,” he replied. “But I’m an excellent sailor. I’ll be fine. Have a good evening.”

  Courtesy paid dividends, Mum used to say—before Dad beat her to a pulp for the final time. But it was her fault. She shouldn’t have answered him back. Should have been more reverent.

  Ellis tried to picture his mother before the bad days, but all he saw were bruises and broken teeth. Dad did it to her and she deserved it. Mum should never have tried to run away. That’s why Dad resorted to the chains. Ellis hated the chains, and remembered how they chafed his wrists and ankles. They had a place in his world, the chains, but in a completely different way.

  He gunned the big diesel engine and inched towards the security gate, to the most dangerous part of the crossing. If they stopped him now or if Hottie revived and started kicking …

  Three cars in front passed without stopping. The more vehicles they allowed through unsearched, the lower his chances of earning a free pass.

  A security guard in a black uniform looked in his direction. Shit, no! pulled over the car in front—a big blue Volvo—and waved him through.

  Flynn nearly wet himself.

  “Jesus. Fucking close,” he muttered.

  He waved his thanks to the security man and slid the big camper around the Volvo. He couldn’t stop grinning as he followed the filter lanes to the back of the pre-boarding queue.

  Yes!

  Twenty minutes later, the freight trucks finished boarding and Ellis’ line cleared. He made the ferry’s parking deck without trouble
, engaged the hand brake, and barked out a low whoop of joy.

  The other passengers rushed to claim their prime seats, but Ellis didn’t need to hurry. There’d be at least thirty minutes before the remaining cars boarded and the crew secured the bulkhead doors. He had ample time to deliver another dose.

  Ellis stepped into the back and drew the privacy curtains. He closed his eyes and raised the seat cover, heart beating loud. Was she still alive? They’d lost one like this before when she suffocated on the way to the ferry. If it happened again, Jenkins would go ape-shit and they’d have to start all over again, but from a different location. Birmingham was closed to them now.

  He opened his eyes and relaxed when the rise and fall of the magnificent swollen tits told him all was well. The livid slap mark remained, complete with newly formed raised welts.

  “Evening my lovely.”

  Ellis pinched her bruised buttock. She stirred. Excellent, she’d see him prepare the medicine.

  He took a small black leather case, about the size of a mobile phone, from an overhead compartment.

  Hottie’s eyelids opened a slit and closed again. Ellis slapped her thigh, not quite as hard as before, he daren’t risk making too much noise. Hottie’s chin dipped as much as the neck-collar would allow. Her lids flickered and opened, eyes struggling to find focus before she turned her head and recognised his face. Her breathing behind the gag deepened and she tried to scream, but managed little more than a muffled squeak.

  “Shush. If you hadn’t changed your mind about our little trip, you could have ridden up front in the nice comfortable passenger seat with my friend and me. You only have yourself to blame, my precious little girl.”

  Ellis made his crazy Gollum voice. Hottie froze, eyes wide. A small blue vein on her temple bulged. Fresh urine mixed with the stale and the smell flooded the compartment, stinging the back of Flynn’s throat.

  “Oh dear,” he said in his normal voice. “You’ve wet yourself. You naughty little girl. That will earn a very special punishment when we get to our new home.”

  Ellis raised his hand slowly. Her eyes followed it all the way up, and all the way down as it landed hard, on top of the palm print. Tears flowed from behind lids squeezed tight.

  Hottie whimpered.

  “It’s lucky I lined the compartment with plastic so the piss won’t leak out and give me away. But it does mean you’ll have to lie in your own waste for the next twelve hours, unless I mop it up with this.”

  He lifted a kitchen roll to her eye-line.

  “Shall I do that for you? I’d hate you to develop a rash. That wouldn’t do. Not at all.”

  He slapped her again.

  “Open your eyes, little girl. I ain’t asking the same question twice.”

  Hottie’s eyes flickered open and her brows steepled in supplication. She looked from Ellis, to the paper roll and back again. She whimpered and his hard-on threatened to burst a seam on his jeans.

  He already started gaining control of the girl’s mind as well as her body. His excitement mounted.

  “Raise your hips.”

  Hottie’s eyelids squeezed shut and her pelvis tilted as much as the restraints would allow. As soon as the paper touched the crack between her buttocks, she dropped her hips back to the mattress and turned away.

  “Okay, if that’s the way you want to play it. Stay wet, I don’t care.”

  He leaned into the box, licked a salty tear from her cheek, and bit her earlobe.

  A high pitched, but quiet whimper erupted through her nostrils, forcing out a bubble of snot. Her hips rose again.

  “That’s better. Behave yourself and we’ll get along. You love my attention, don’t you? But you know what happens when you’re naughty, right?” He reached between her legs and pinched the inside of her thigh, two inches below the crotch. Tears flowed again. She screamed, shook her head, pushed her feet against the end panel, and tried to pull away from his pincer grip. Her head cracked against the inside of the box and bent back. Neither panel deflected as much as a millimetre. Hottie relaxed her knees and squeezed them together, and continued to squeal through the gag.

  “This box is strong so you aren’t going to break it. Relax.” He pinched again, harder this time. “Get it?” he snapped, and maintained the pressure.

  She moaned again and jerked her head in the nearest approximation of a nod possible while wearing the neck brace. He released his fingers.

  “Now we understand each other, turn on your back. Watch what I’m doing and be quiet.”

  She struggled to turn against the bonds. A button popped on the white cotton blouse and exposed more of the cleavage formed by the large breasts and a silken push-up bra. It was the cleavage and the size of her young tits that first drew Ellis’ attention when he drove past her school on the hunt.

  Well, if she showed them, she must want them noticed. Right? And if she wanted them noticed she’s fair game. Gagging for it. Ye smiled at the pun.

  A tiny freckle on her left tit showed above the line of the bra. He wanted to nibble it, but Arthur needed to see everything, to savour each humiliation. He wouldn’t touch the girl until the end. He enjoyed watching and directing the operations. Ellis loved doing the touching, and being told what to do. Theirs was a partnership made in heaven.

  Well, if not in heaven …

  Once on her back, Hottie’s eyes focused on the black case as he undid its zip. He removed the syringe, already full of a pale yellow liquid. Hottie’s eyes widened again. She shook her head violently, and struggled against the gaffer-tape bindings.

  Ellis fixed her with a dead stare. She quivered and stopped moving.

  “That’s better.” He tapped the syringe tube. “This is a mild sedative. Don’t worry. We’ve worked out the dosage. You ain’t in any danger.”

  Not yet.

  The girl raked her head from side to side. He smiled and licked his lips. A dribble of saliva dripped to mix with the sweat on her forehead. Jenkins wouldn’t want that, so Ellis cleaned it with a surgical wipe taken from the case.

  Hottie shivered as he uncapped the needle and flicked the tip. An air bubble dislodged from inside the glass tube and rose to the top. He squeezed the plunger a fraction and the bubble escaped through the needle.

  “This will keep you calm during the crossing.” He pressed the point into a raised vein in the crook of her elbow and pressed the plunger, slow and steady, as Jenkins had first shown him all those years ago.

  Hottie whimpered again. Her whole body trembled.

  “Stay still while I make you more comfortable.”

  He checked the time. Five minutes left. He needed something to tide him over for the journey. He took the tip of his right index finger and caressed Hottie’s cheek, lowered it to her chin, and moved it down to the swell of her breasts.

  Hottie shivered again and snivelled but her movements slowed. Not long now.

  Ellis hadn’t touched her before. They’d never been intimate. He was saving the moment until they reached the chamber. This far in their relationship, he’d been the perfect attentive gentleman, but that was going to change.

  He undid the remaining two buttons and parted the blouse. The white bra popped into view. He thought about removing it, but kept the reveal for later, for the comfort and privacy of their new home, and to allow Jenkins’ camera capture the action.

  Moving his hand lower, his fingers traced the gentle ripples of her abdomen, which trembled under his touch. She groaned again and stared, imploring as he reached the site of the piercing. The red swelling around the hole still looked raw.

  “Must have a word with Joe about sterilising his equipment better.”

  Hottie’s eyes closed

  6

  Friday morning - I love you, Uncle David

  Time since abduction: fourteen hours, thirty minutes

  Jones tried to do justice to Manda’s breakfast offering—bacon, poached eggs, black pudding, baked beans, grilled tomatoes, and two slices of toast and marmal
ade—but nervous tension played havoc with his stomach acid. He did little more than pick around the edges of the plate, although he did manage to sink two large cups of tea.

  “Thanks, love. Delicious.” He dabbed his lips with a napkin, folded it into a triangle, and placed it on the side-plate. He lined the hypotenuse with the table’s edge, centred the knife and fork on the breakfast plate, and pushed up from the chair.

  “David,” Manda chided, “you barely touched it.”

  “Sorry, but …” He patted his stomach and screwed up his face. “Sensitive, you know.”

  Manda nodded.

  “Now,” he said, “let’s see if Phil managed to book my flight.”

  “Why are you going alone? It’s dangerous.” Manda stared across the kitchen at him. Dark creases wrinkled her brow.

  Yeah. But it’s better than letting the trigger-happy CRS crash in like Hollywood action clowns.

  He thought about Hollie’s picture; the blue eyes, blonde hair, and then about the child asleep not four feet above his head. He found it more and more difficult to separate the two girls in his mind. Jamie looked like Hollie, and Hollie became Jamie. He’d never forgive himself if the gendarmes took over and Hollie caught a bullet in the crossfire. He couldn’t tell Manda about the girls’ physical similarities. Why burden her with that little nugget of pain?

  “I’m only going to take a look before contacting the locals. It’s safer that way. Believe me.”

  He gave her a peck on the cheek and headed towards Phil’s office.

  “David.” Manda caught his arm. She bit her lower lip and locked worried brown eyes on his. “Is Hollie, well … is she … still alive? She’s been missing so long.”

  Jones squeezed her hand. What could he say? The three of them often discussed cases around the dinner table. Manda made a great sounding board and knew the missing case statistics better than most civilians did.