by Wes Markin
Susie thought of Mrs Stradling at school, and those long-winded conversations about life, and its meaning that took them to the lofty heights of four, or even five in the evening. Mrs Straddling had experienced a lot of loss in her life, which included her husband, and she had a cool motto: In this world, you must be ready for anything.
So Susie, why weren’t you ready for that bastard in the carpark at the Cloisters?
Three years of Tae-Kwon-Do at an early age should have seen her right. She could have struck his shins, knees or even his bollocks, but she’d failed. The thought of his strong arms looped around her from behind made her tremble. She flinched at the sound of her smartphone hitting the floor - God, how she wished she had that now. Her mouth ran dry over the thought of that rag clamped over her mouth that sent the lights out.
If she hadn’t been a claustrophobic person before, she certainly was now. She was in a plastic coffin about half-a-metre high and a metre wide. She kicked out at the lid again. It barely moved. Was the box handmade? How long had he planned to contain her like this? There were three locks along the side that kept the lid down. They were buried deep into the plastic, but she kept kicking and straining against it nonetheless. What other option did she have? And if, by some miracle, it came loose, then what?
She didn’t know where she was, what time it was or who she was with.
Planning, reasoning, thinking … it was all completely pointless when you have no knowledge of context.
Who are you? Susie Long thought again.
Who? Who? Who?
Are you the man my dad hurt?
Are you Christian Severance?
The thudding sound woke Christian Severance. He sat up and listened. It was most certainly Susie kicking the lid of her plastic coffin.
Despite having pushed aside the sheets during another stifling night, Severance’s t-shirt was damp. The heatwave was really starting to tighten its grip on Salisbury. He peeled it off and cast it aside.
The kicking continued.
He took a deep breath. The pounding was incessant, but it was a detached house, so he wasn’t too concerned about anyone overhearing. He fought the irritation, and let his mind wander back to the events of yesterday.
Detective Constable Ryan Simmonds.
His death had been a side-effect of the displacement. Not unfortunate, because it did not detract from the success of the displacement, but it had been unforeseen. It shouldn’t affect how the plan unravelled. Dead or alive, an assault like that on an officer would have brought significant heat regardless.
David Sturridge. In custody. But, again, this was how Severance had planned it. Sturridge would carefully drip feed them the information, at just the right tempo, so the rest of the plan could take effect. The police would be focused on him while displacement continued.
Susie Long was unrelenting. He didn’t fear her escape. She could not break free. Yet the sound, and its repetition, was really starting to annoy him. He returned to his train of thoughts.
Marcus Long.
Severance still did not know if this displacement had been successful. Had he done what he’d been asked to do in his letter? This information was unlikely to find its way into the news in a great hurry. He would have to wait on this one; he had a friend within the prison community who would be informing him by phone later. If Marcus had responded to the threat, and displacement had been successful, he would no longer need his insurance policy. Susie. He’d be rid of that incessant kicking.
He swung his feet out of the bed and thought of yesterday’s late night with the Conduit. The meditation and visualisations had been particularly gratifying. He had relived the moment when he had cried, uncontrollably, on the other side of that table in front of Ryan Simmonds as he’d explained his fear that Marcus Long was seeking retribution. He had begged Simmonds for support.
‘He’s watching me. Every time I leave the house. Everywhere I go – he’s watching.’
‘Have you actually seen him?’
‘I know, he’s there. I can sense him. He can’t have me and he can’t accept it. I don’t think he will ever go away. Please help me.’
‘Of course. Of course, we will.’
But that had been a lie, hadn’t it, Simmonds? Where was the help? Days had turned to weeks, and weeks to months, and still no help. Yes, Simmonds, you helped after he’d blown a hole in my face, and I could no longer talk. But wasn’t that a case of too little too late?
Accepting these moments of trauma, of intense pain, while meditating and visualising, offered small bursts of relief, and he’d slept well.
The kicking below continued. It was unbearable. He rose to his feet.
Yes, he needed her alive, for now. At least until the phone call confirmed that displacement onto Long had been successful. However, he could certainly do something this second about that kicking, something that would ensure she would stop.
And never do it again.
8
Operation Autumn and Operation Coldtown were linked. Firmly. Eyebrows were raised, and chatter within the heavy investigation team was at record levels. Gone was the broken and eerie shakiness of yesterday. A strong sense of purpose had come with the recent revelations, and solidity was rightfully returning to a crew who had a long history of success behind them.
Jeremy Dawson, the HOLMES database operator, was no longer running solo. His female counterpart, who had been assigned Operation Autumn, was busy tapping away beside him, making those links between the cases which could prove invaluable in the journey ahead.
Yorke stood in front of them as the SIO of this new umbrella operation. Flanked on one side by Gardner, originally SIO of Operation Autumn; and, on the other by Topham, originally SIO of Operation Coldtown.
There was a sudden moment of silence when Jake walked in.
‘Nice trim, sir,’ one of the officers said.
Jake blushed, and there was laughter among the officers. Yorke appreciated the moment. Banter helped build comradery.
Yorke began by talking the twenty-plus team through everything. It was necessary because every officer would be hazy on the details of one of the two operations. He did his best to create a timeline and was happy to see many of his officers scribbling down notes.
He began with the abduction of Susie Long from outside of The Cloisters. He ran through the particulars: the CCTV footage which showed the abduction; the dropped mobile phone; the interviews with the boyfriend and the family; and the supposed estrangement from Marcus Long, her imprisoned father. He allowed Gardner to interject frequently with details regarding this investigation and, on several occasions, Jake filled in some gaps. Most notably that Susie and her father had actually been in correspondence.
Then, Yorke took them through the events surrounding the murder of Simmonds again. The room was more upbeat than yesterday because Sturridge had been charged with the murder, so Yorke went through the facts concisely and formally without euphemisms.
At this point, Yorke noticed Parkinson fidgeting in his chair. Yorke hoped that he wasn’t about to experience a repeat of last night when Parkinson had continually voiced his frustration.
‘We know that Ryan conducted an interview with Christian Severance.’ He’d already decided to refer to Simmonds by his first name, because many of the occupants of the room had been so close to him. ‘Severance and Marcus Long bumped into each other in a supermarket almost fifteen years after the original crime. It is likely that Long rediscovered his feelings for Severance at this point and began to follow him. Severance made a report to Ryan regarding these concerns. A report which was never followed up on. Please consult HOLMES to read the report following the briefing.’
Just like last night, Parkinson’s hand was waving in the air.
‘DC Parkinson?’ Yorke said.
‘I’ve read it, but there was no evidence to show that Long was actually pursuing Severance.’
‘That is the case,’ Yorke said, wanting to add: but wouldn’t it have b
een prudent for Simmonds to at least question Long? However, he didn’t add this, because the team were raw, and he didn’t want to give Parkinson fuel to initiate a campaign of bitterness against him.
‘Is it fair to blame Ryan for not acting on a gut-feeling?’ Parkinson said.
‘No one is blaming Ryan,’ Topham said. ‘Apart from Severance, that is.’
‘Yes,’ Yorke said, ‘this seems to be the case. Severance was badly damaged by the subsequent run-in with Long. He was shot in the face and lost his tongue. So, it can be no coincidence that Ryan had his tongue cut out. We can only assume that Severance thinks that Ryan could have stopped it getting out of hand and so is partly responsible.’
‘Why didn’t Severance attack Ryan himself then?’ Parkinson said.
‘I’ll get to that in a moment. As many of you are aware now, Ryan’s killer, David Sturridge, also has a history that doesn’t make for pleasant reading.’
Yorke went through the details of their investigation last night: the visit to the squat; the prostitution; and the brutal rape of Sturridge by Alex Drake. He also added that Alex was missing but did not elaborate on this for the time being.
‘Last night, myself and DI Topham spoke to Sturridge. He communicates with cards because he has no tongue either.’
Until this point, many of the team had been unaware of this. A nervous chatter spread throughout the group.
‘Did Severance cut his tongue out?’ Willows asked.
‘We don’t know,’ Yorke said. ‘But he did offer some suggestions as to why this may all be happening. Sturridge has clearly emerged from an unhappy background which includes homelessness and male prostitution. In the interviews, he has referred to his loneliness and desire for vengeance.’
Yorke pointed at a picture on the whiteboard. ‘Alex Drake, pimp, drug-dealer, and rapist of David Sturridge. He’s also been missing for over a week. Sturridge has told us that he is dead.’
Another hand shot up. ‘Did Sturridge kill Alex Drake?’
‘He claims not. And he will not implicate Christian Severance. But I suspect Severance is the killer.’
Parkinson said, ‘This isn’t a Hitchcock movie! Seen Strangers on a Train? Two people swapping murders, so they don’t get caught? Come on!’
Yorke took a sharp breath through his nose, and slowly exhaled through his mouth. The man was dicing with disciplinary action. He was being antagonistic in situations which required teamwork.
He filed the thought for post-investigation.
‘Sturridge claimed to have shared his suffering with others, and healed,’ Yorke said, recalling the details of the interview. ‘There’s something bigger at work here than just two people covering their tracks. Which, incidentally, they have not tried particularly hard to do. No, there’s a much bigger picture here, especially when you consider the fact that the story to date, doesn’t end there. Last night, Marcus Long was rushed to the hospital after biting his own tongue off.’ There was more nervous chatter from his audience, but Yorke wasn’t going to allow them breathing time. ‘He received a letter from Christian Severance. The letter, now in our possession, will be discussed in more detail by DS Pettman, but it demanded that Long bite off his own tongue at eleven o’clock last night or his daughter would be murdered.’
Now, he allowed breathing time. Parkinson was mumbling something, but Yorke couldn’t make out the words. Sheepishly, he kept looking up, which made Yorke wonder if he’d finally realised he was marking his own card for a disciplinary.
‘I’ve read the letter,’ Jake said, ‘and again, it can be found on HOLMES. His letter is calm and thoughtful. There doesn’t appear to be any bitterness or resentment. In the opening, he describes his understanding of Marcus Long’s pain.’ Jake looked down at his notes. ‘I’m reading from the letter directly here: I appreciate the love you felt for me. I was a young boy, and I know that plagued you with guilt. I know that your own domestic situation drove you to behave in unthinkable ways. I know all of this now. I know all of this because I have healed.’
Yorke said, ‘Healed. It is the same expression that Sturridge used.’
‘I’ve accepted what I have become,’ Jake continued. ‘Accepted and shared. The letter continues like this for some time before he outlines his demands. Bite off your tongue or Susie will have to die. He was also told to completely destroy the tongue so he couldn’t have it reattached.’
‘A demand he complied with when he flushed his tongue down the toilet,’ Yorke said. ‘He is recovering in hospital now and has been interviewed, briefly, by DS Pettman. I know I am pointing out the obvious here, but the priority of the case at this point is to recover Susie Long if he does not honour his end of the bargain to release her.’
‘Not likely,’ someone muttered.
‘But our concerns stretch much further,’ Yorke said. ‘Who else does Severance have earmarked for revenge? He seems to have gone to a lot of trouble over Ryan and Long, so if anyone else is in his crosshairs, they could be living on borrowed time. This morning, while we were organising assignments, I prepared a list of those involved with Severance during those years of abuse, leading up to the attempted murder. If we can somehow anticipate where he may strike next, we could pre-empt more tragedy, find him, and recover Susie.’
He handed a wad of paper to Jake. ‘Could you hand these out, please? These are the notes I made.’
Christian Severance always stopped to look in the mirror when he was in the cellar. If ever there was a need for motivation, he could find it in his mangled reflection.
Behind him, Susie Long was kicking and shouting. ‘LET ME OUT! PLEASE! I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU ARE DOING THIS!’
She was strong. He’d sprayed the gas into the opening on her plastic container minutes ago and the adrenaline was keeping her going. He wondered if she would need another dose of it? That would be remarkable.
He closed his eyes and stroked his face, imagining for a moment the fingers of one of his previous lovers caressing him. He longed for touch. The Conduit helped him find it in their meditations, but sometimes he wished the Conduit himself would just touch him.
The kicking and shouting stopped, and Severance opened his eyes.
He stepped over the rusted bikes and worked his way to the back of the cellar where the body was wrapped in plastic. He’d moved it out of Susie’s line of sight to avoid her waking up and screaming in terror during the night.
After unwrapping the body, Severance slid it free from the plastic, leaving a trail of blood on the floor. He stared down at the victim he’d held captive in the house for over a week.
His trousers were around his ankles and his genitals were missing.
Yorke thought of Harry Butler and looked at his watch. The meeting was at 1:00 p.m. and it had only just turned 10:00 a.m. He figured he would be looking at his watch a lot today in the build up to that meeting. He’d tried already to call him six times, failing each time.
I’ve found him. Harry had hung that titbit out, initiated a frenzied state in Yorke, and then had switched his bloody phone off.
Well, Yorke thought, if you want a face-to-face that bad, fine, but don’t expect pleasantries.
Everyone in the incident room looked up at Yorke eagerly, wanting him to continue the tale of Christian Severance and the events that had led up to his disappearance into silence.
He began with a potted history of his childhood. Nothing too significant there. Excellent academic record, close family relationships, everything going well until … the grooming and the sexual abuse. The first person on Yorke’s list of Severance’s potential targets was Amanda Werrell, current principal of a secondary school near Old Sarum. She was the vice-principal during Severance’s years in attendance and was investigated during the incident.
‘There’s a file, I want you all to look at after briefing,’ Yorke said. ‘Several members of staff reported that they’d approached Werrell with reports regarding inappropriate behaviour from Marcus Long. Not just toward
s Severance, but towards other teenage boys too. She was accused of not following up on these reports but was eventually cleared of any wrongdoing.’
‘What kind of inappropriate behaviour?’ An officer asked.
‘Long periods of time talking alone with the children after school, lending them books and DVDs, connecting with them on social media. Stuff that could either be innocuous, or the backbone of grooming. The two members of staff were adamant that they’d made these reports to her. She was adamant that they hadn’t. The trial didn’t last long. Their words against hers.’
‘Innocent or not,’ Topham said, ‘this could put her on Severance’s radar.’
Yorke said, ‘Which is why myself and DI Gardner will be going to speak to her first thing today. I’ve also assigned DC Willows to speak to the two teachers who made the accusations against Werrell – neither are in the teaching profession anymore, but both are working in Salisbury.’
Willows nodded and made notes.
Yorke then talked them through the next stage of Severance’s life. The investigation, the trial, the jail sentence of four years for Marcus Long.
After Long’s imprisonment, Severance’s life followed a productive path. He worked towards a PHD in researching snake anti-venom for third-world countries, funded by the Bill Gates’ foundation.
‘By all reports, he was an excellent public speaker who travelled all over the world to deliver hope. He drummed up significant funding, and at one point became the ‘face’ of research for these disadvantaged countries. All was going well until Marcus Long came back into his life.’ Yorke paused for a mouthful of water. ‘Things get hazy after the attack. Following Long’s imprisonment, Severance moved off the map somewhat. He spent a long-time claiming disability, and a long time under the care of the NHS for psychological, as well as physical, damage. He was living with his mother – who has been spoken to at length during the Operation Autumn investigations, but there’ll be no harm in paying her another visit. Then, about a year ago, he disappeared.’
