The Rock: A DCI Ryan Mystery (The DCI Ryan Mysteries Book 18)

by LJ Ross

  “Thanks, Mr Donnelly. I will.”

  Mick turned, and exchanged a long look with Gaz, who was forced to look away.

  “You ever read that one, Gaz?”

  His friend raised a hand to cover his mouth, unable to speak.

  “I think you’d enjoy it,” Mick said, before turning to leave.

  Outside, he turned to look back at the house and saw Gaz watching him from the window. He raised a cheerful hand in salute, then stepped behind the wheel of his Range Rover, where Noddy was waiting for him in the passenger seat.

  Nothing was said until the car had moved off.

  “What should I do, boss?” Noddy asked, once they were clear of the house.

  “Blessed is the one whom God reproves…” Mick said. “Do you know the best way to prove your loyalty? By sacrificing something—the most important thing in the world to you.”

  Noddy frowned.

  “D’you want me to give you my X-Box, Mick?”

  Donnelly swore, and then let out a long laugh.

  “You’ve never read a bloody book in your life, have you son?”

  When the boy only looked blank, he decided to put it in words he could understand.

  “Make an example of him,” he said, all laughter gone. “Get it done tonight, after the Dragon’s been round.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Achara looked at the flimsy scraps of cheap lace she’d been told to wear, and then at the well-used lipsticks and eyeshadows Caloom had dumped on the end of her bed.

  “Put it on,” he’d told her, pointing at the make-up, then at her face.

  She hadn’t, and she knew there’d be a punishment for that.

  The other women had been too frightened not to do as they were told and, as she looked around the room, she saw an assortment of exhausted, incoherent women dressed in lace and polyester, their faces made up like porcelain dolls.

  “Right then, ladies!”

  Nodi was back, and she pushed herself flat against the wall so he wouldn’t notice her.

  “Very nice,” he said, as he strolled between the beds, tugging and prodding as he went. “What’s this, sweetheart? Doesn’t it fit?”

  He stopped beside one of the women who had struggled into an outfit at least two sizes too small, and was now seated on her bed, her head hanging in defeat.

  “Looks better that way, love, trust me,” he said, with a laugh.

  “He’ll be here any minute now,” Callum warned. “We better start gettin’ them lined up.”

  “All in good time, Cal,” Noddy said, full of confidence ahead of his task later that evening.

  The more he thought about it, the more excited he felt.

  Just in time to see his favourite girl…

  “This one isn’t dressed,” he said, petulantly. He’d been looking forward to seeing that one in black lace.

  Achara kept her head bent, long hair hiding her face.

  “I left the stuff out for her,” Callum said. “Maybe she doesn’t understand.”

  Noddy watched her, then sank onto his haunches so they were eye to eye.

  “It isn’t that, is it, love? You just don’t want to, do you?”

  She shivered as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Maybe she’s shy,” he said, and his voice shook with repressed need. “Why don’t we give her a helping hand, eh?”

  Without further ado, he grabbed her up, and tugged off her sweater with one rough motion.

  She cried out, trying to cover herself, trying to run, but he pushed her back and reached for the lace bra he’d liked the look of, so much.

  “Wear it,” he said, and held it out to her.

  Achara wanted to take the material and wrap it around his throat, but she knew there was no chance, and her strength was low.

  She took the bra in her limp fingers, shifted away from his prying eyes, and put it on.

  “Now the rest,” Noddy said, in a low voice.

  She shook her head, and he reached for the matching knickers.

  “Are you going to put these on, or do I need to help you?”

  She needed no translation, and snatched them from his hand, crying softly as she was forced to undress.

  Noddy enjoyed the show, and then sat on the edge of the bed beside her, so he could whisper in her ear.

  “One day, you know what I’m gonna do?” he said.

  She gave an involuntary shudder.

  “I’m gonna be even bigger than Mick,” he said. “This is just small fry, in comparison with how big I’m gonna be. I’m gonna be a name in this town…maybe even the world.”

  She tucked her legs up, in a defensive gesture.

  “You could be the one who helps to train the girls,” he said, in the manner of one who’d just extended a cushy job offer. “You wouldn’t have to do more than one trick a night, and that’d just be me.”

  She didn’t understand the words, but they made her skin crawl.

  “What d’you think, baby, hmm?”

  But, before he could say more, the outer door opened and The Dragon stepped into the room, causing Noddy to spring off the bed as though he’d been burned.

  That action alone was enough to warn her that this new man, whoever he was, was more dangerous than any of the others, and she was afraid.

  She watched his eyes scan the room, pausing to scrutinize each face until they came to rest on her.

  “That one,” he said, simply. “The one in black lace.”

  Her bowels wanted to empty as he began walking towards her, his eyes never leaving her face, and she looked around for a weapon.

  But, there was none.

  He came to stand beside the bed, and looked down at her.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, in fluent Thai.

  She shook her head, and he asked again.

  “Achara,” she whispered.

  “No,” he said. “Your new name is Orchid. Say your new name.”

  “Orchid,” she repeated, like an automaton.

  “Good girl,” he said, and reached for her hand. “You’re coming with me.”

  * * *

  Lawana wondered why God had condemned her to a life of darkness.

  Why did he not let her die?

  Her body was all used up and broken; her legs no longer worked as they should, and she was numb to the rest, having grown accustomed to the pain that seemed never to end.

  She thought of the man, and of what a fool she’d been.

  Rescuer, she thought, with a harsh sob.

  She remembered the time when she’d thought Pos’man and his gang were the worst she could have imagined; that surviving the sea and a landslide were all that one person could stand.

  How wrong she had been.

  This man was different. He moved and spoke quietly, but his eyes…

  His eyes were black, and spoke of terrible horror to come.

  She looked around the cellar, which was windowless and built solidly of red bricks, accessible only by a single door, which remained locked and bolted from the outside. It had been fully decorated as a bedroom, with a large bed in the middle, covered in a flowery bedspread. In the corner of the room was a plain white toilet and sink, but no mirror. To cover the brickwork, he’d pasted a thousand cuttings on the wall, all of beautiful women, many of whom were naked or semi-nude and cut carefully from the pages of newspapers and magazines. Others were photographs, and she knew the images of those women were real, because she recognised the flowery bedspread upon which they lay. Their eyes were filled with fear and, in some cases, their eyes were no longer open.

  She wanted to think they were merely sleeping, but she knew the truth, in her heart.

  Those women were dead, just as she would be.

  This was his special place, she realised. The place he came to kill, and enjoy the process at his leisure. If he’d wanted to murder her quickly, he could have taken his pleasure in the cave and left her there to rot. Instead, he went to such trouble to remove her, and st
eal her away for himself, undoubtedly at some great risk to himself.

  This was beyond her comprehension.

  Gaz, Nodi and the others, she could understand. They were driven by base motivations of sex and money, and power, too. They thrived on it, and enjoyed the acquisition of it, at the expense of women like herself. She’d seen that, in one form or another, since her childhood and, whilst she could never forgive, it was something she understood.

  This man…

  He was another kind of beast. One that savoured his kills, and guarded them jealously for himself.

  Her eyes strayed again to the pictures on the wall, memorising the faces of all the women and girls, wondering if any of them had survived, wondering if their families knew what had happened to them.

  But, no. There was no way they could know, for he was still moving freely amongst them, like a tiger amongst a herd of gazelles.

  As her eyes focused in the dim light of a single battery-powered light hanging from the ceiling, she saw other details she’d missed before.

  Blood.

  Some of the pictures were stained with blood.

  The scream welled up inside her and broke forth, the long, keening sound of an animal in torment.

  But there was nobody to hear.

  Minutes and hours ticked by, and Lawana dragged herself from the bed, searching every corner, tugging at the door, crying out for help until her voice broke.

  Later, when the world slept, one man crept from his bed and made his way to his special place with a spring in his step and a bulging rucksack slung over his shoulder, full of his favourite toys.

  Work hard, play hard.

  He’d been careful for a very long time, more than two years, but he was starting to feel the strain, and couldn’t wait any longer. He’d begun to look for the next, but then he’d heard about the woman found on the beach.

  Death had always held a fascination for him, ever since he’d seen his grandmother lying in her open casket, when he was seven years old. He’d touched her cold, waxy skin with nimble fingers and felt no fear. He was drawn to it, excited by it, and relied on it to help him to remain sane in his ‘ordinary’ life. Without the fix, every so often, he knew the cracks between his two worlds would begin to show.

  And so, he’d made his way to the beach, standing amongst a crowd of others, listening to their inane chatter about how sad it was, and what a tragic loss.

  He’d watched them combing the beach, looking for others, and he’d wondered…

  And he’d looked, too. Searched, idly at first, without any purpose or hope, until he’d seen her lying there, unconscious, like an offering.

  He wished he could have taken her then, but that would have been foolish, and premature. He needed to plan, and to execute that plan with precision.

  And so, he’d waited, patiently, as he always did.

  He was a very patient man.

  CHAPTER 27

  Monday, 15th February

  Storm Wayne hit the North East coastline just after seven in the morning, sweeping through the cities and villages with merciless fury, whipping the sand from the shore and shaking the very foundations of Northumbria Police Headquarters, whose feeble construction had been designed without reference to its proximity to the sea, or much else, for that matter.

  Ryan and MacKenzie made a valiant effort to ignore the rain and wind battering against the windows of the Chief Constable’s office, and accepted the cups of coffee she offered them from her own personal machine.

  “Times like this, I start wondering whether I should take early retirement and move to Spain,” Morrison said.

  “You’d miss us, too much,” Ryan quipped.

  Morrison eyed him over the rim of her mug, and snorted.

  “Like a hole in the head,” he thought he heard her say.

  Then, she set her cup down and folded her hands on top of her desk, and came to the matter at hand.

  “Thank you both for finding the time for this meeting,” she said. “I know you’ve got a busy caseload, at the moment.”

  “Nothing we can’t handle,” MacKenzie said, automatically.

  Morrison smiled.

  “And it’s precisely that kind of ‘can do’, capable attitude that’s prompted this meeting,” she said. “As you know, we’ve been searching for a new Detective Chief Superintendent to lead the Criminal Investigation Department for quite some time.”

  They nodded.

  “After Gregson and Lucas, you might be forgiven for thinking it’s a poisoned chalice,” Morrison said, because it needed to be said aloud. “But I’m of the opinion that two rotten apples shouldn’t spoil the whole basket. We had a run of bad luck, but that shouldn’t tarnish the good reputation of this constabulary.”

  She paused, and reached inside her desk drawer for a slim folder containing a written proposal, and pushed it across her desk towards Denise.

  MacKenzie looked at her, then at Ryan.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s a formal offer,” Morrison said. “After much internal discussion, we feel the right person to take up the role of DCS has been sitting under our very noses, for quite some time. We don’t have to look any further than you, Denise, if we want somebody with the poise, professionalism and life experience to do the job, and do it well.”

  MacKenzie was at a loss for words.

  “But—surely, Ryan would be better placed?”

  Morrison only smiled.

  “Who do you think recommended you for this position?”

  MacKenzie turned to face her friend, who was already smiling.

  “I’d be no good as a DCS,” Ryan said, honestly. “Whereas, you have more patience in your little finger than I have in my entire body. You’ve got the empathy and the backbone to do this, if you want to, Mac. You deserve this opportunity, because you’ve earned it.”

  Even hearing the words, she didn’t believe it.

  “I’m only an inspector,” she protested. “I’m not a DCI…I’d be skipping a rung on the ladder.”

  “You’ve performed as Acting DCI on several occasions now, and every time in an exemplary manner,” Morrison reminded her. “You’ve put in your time, Denise. There isn’t anybody in the department who’d think otherwise.”

  “I—I don’t know what to say. I need to think about it.”

  “Of course you do,” Morrison said. “I don’t want to rush you, but I’ll need an answer by the end of the week, one way or the other.”

  “I’ll give you my answer by Friday,” MacKenzie promised.

  * * *

  When they stepped back out into the corridor, MacKenzie laid a hand on Ryan’s arm, when he would have moved off.

  “Wait a minute,” she said.

  He turned to give her his full attention. “Is everything all right? I thought you’d be pleased by the offer, but did I misjudge things?”

  She smiled, and shook her head.

  “I’m overwhelmed by this,” she said. “I would never have dreamed of this kind of promotion, at least not for a few more years. When I think of a natural leader, I think of you.”

  “Which is funny, because I think of you,” he said, and made her smile again.

  “I’m not trying to do myself down,” she said. “I know that I could do the job, if I set my mind to it.”

  “You could,” he agreed. “So, what’s stopping you?”

  She blew out a long breath. “Probably all the same things that stopped you,” she said. “I’m happy with our team, as it is. I’d miss being out there, in the thick of an investigation, being on the front lines. I can’t stand politicians, or career police, who have delusions of grandeur, and I don’t know that I’d want to spend more of my time having to pander to them.”

  “Perhaps you’d shake them up a bit,” he said, and could imagine it, very clearly.

  “Then, there’s the extra hours,” she said, thinking of time away from Samantha and Frank. “I need to think about whether I want this enough to let i
t take me away from home.”

  Ryan nodded, understanding that particular dilemma only too well.

  “On the other hand, it’d be easier on my bad leg,” she said, thinking of the long-term nerve damage inflicted by The Hacker. “It’s better than it was, and I have regular physiotherapy, but it’ll never be the same again. If I’ve walked too far, or driven for too long, I feel it for days afterwards. Taking up a desk job would certainly alleviate a lot of that.”

  She paused, and looked off into the distance.

  “I can sense a ‘but’ coming on.”

  “But I need to think about what I really love best about this job, and ask myself if I’d still be satisfied if I take up the post.”

  Ryan put a reassuring hand on her arm.

  “In some ways, whether or not you decide to take this job is immaterial,” he said. “The most important thing is for you to always know that I, and your colleagues, believe you to be more than capable of it, and the decision was yours for the taking. You’re a bloody good inspector, Denise, and you’d be a bloody good DCS, too.”

  “Thanks, Ryan,” she said, and gave him a quick, hard hug, uncaring of who should see. “You’re a good friend.”

  “I’m glad to be your friend, but this offer is based entirely on the strength of your work record and personal qualities,” he said, because it was important to make the distinction. “I wouldn’t have recommended you, if I didn’t think you were an outstanding candidate.”

  She felt a lump rise to her throat.

  “After what happened—the injury, I mean,” she said, preferring not to reference Keir Edwards by name. “I lost a lot of confidence. I couldn’t do the same things I’d always done…or, at least, not with the same degree of competency.”

  She thought of how she’d loved kickboxing, and realised it had been months since the last time she’d sparred.

  “It wasn’t noticeable,” he said. “You’re a fighter.”

  “I wanted to prove to myself that I could carry on as normal, as if he hadn’t torn my life apart, as well as my leg,” she said. “Now, I realise that was just burying my feelings. These days, I think of it as a bad episode in my life that would have knocked anybody for six. I’m like you in that respect—I don’t like showing any weakness.”