Time to Play (North East Police) (12 page)

The screams in her head started like a whisper, gaining more momentum as she tried to push them back. They got louder and louder, and she put her fists to her head. 'No. Please go away. It wasn't my fault, I didn't know.'

But her mind didn't listen. The silent noise echoed round the vehicle until she thought the only way for her to stop it was to remember.

I can't – I don't want to. It wasn't my fault.

But deep inside she believed it was. That deep dark secret that no one knew, not even her best friend, was what kept her awake at night and caused her mind to scream at her. She tried not to let it, and mostly she succeeded, but when she was stressed or had time to spend with herself, it always came back. Reminding her what an awful person she was, pushing her to do everything in her power to atone for her sins every day of her life, and screaming to remind her that she wasn't done.

She was on the verge of tears, when Sharpie suddenly opened the car door.

'You OK, kiddo? You look upset?'

'Am OK, sorry. Was just thinking about Mac.'

'He's fine, hon. Pop up and see for yourself this afternoon. Feeling sorry for himself but otherwise he's OK. The doc said he was lucky he got to the hospital when he did. He's been banned from drinking alcohol again at least for the foreseeable future until they've done whatever tests they need to do so he's grumpy, but otherwise the same old Mac. Doc chose lunch, I'm afraid. KFC buckets. Guess his hangover’s kicked in. You ready to eat?'

Marlo nodded, and jumped out of the car locking it behind her. She ignored the shaking in her hands as she swiped her ID card over the reader and pulled open the door, motioning for Sharpie to go ahead of her. It was a slow-close security door, the type that closed on a spring then clicked as it locked.

They were half way up the stairs within seconds, neither noticing the lack of click to their rear. Nor did they notice the young girl creep through behind them, and huddle in the gap under the stairs.

5
^th
November, 1610 hours - Ryhope, Sunderland

Nita was struggling. She felt like she was in an emotional roller coaster. One minute she felt like giggling furiously, and the next she felt so low she could die. The sandwiches had both been eaten, though she still had some water left. Her body felt like it was on fire, she was sweating profusely. Her shakes had abated but now she was aching so much her bones felt like they would crack under the pressure.

She couldn't stop the tears from arriving.

Please God, just kill me. I can't bear this pain. I can't do this, please just let me die. Why me? What did I do that was so horrible? I swear I'll never do it again, but please, please help me.

No one replied to Nita, though. No one came in the door to the little room. No one heard her sob as agonising spasms ripped through her.

The worst thing was she didn't even understand why it was happening. She hadn't understood what had happened since she'd been taken in from the market place and put on the godforsaken container.

Momentarily, she wondered what had happened to Elvie. The kid had been nice to her; she'd made sure Nita had water and food when no one else had cared, the other women all too caught up in their own misery and fear to even contemplate helping each other.

Nita hoped Elvie had escaped from wherever they had taken her.

An image appeared in her mind, Elvie leaning over her as she slept, rubbing her face and telling her that everything was going to be OK.

But it wasn't real.

The only thing that was real was the small cage she was in, the agonising cramps she felt, and the fear of what was yet to come. Curling into a tight ball, she hugged her knees to her chest and wept. Great hacking sobs that shook her to her very soul.

How am I going to get out of this?

5
^th
November, 1925 hours – Desperado’s Mexican restaurant, Sunderland

Connor sat at the corner table, his hand curled around the bottle of beer he'd been nursing for an hour now. He'd barely taken a sip.

He'd originally arranged to meet Ellie there for a meal. It would have been their third date, but his heart wasn't in it. He'd rang her and cancelled the minute he got off work, and in a spurt of spontaneity, he'd decided to go on his own. He wasn't in the mood for company.

Not tonight.

It had started when he had headed to his parent’s house after work. His mum had been in her seat as usual, her face pinched as though concentrating on something really hard. She hadn't even acknowledged him when he'd sat down to speak with her, and after a few minutes, he'd wandered into the kitchen. His Uncle Fred had been sat talking to his dad, their heads huddled together as though discussing the world’s greatest secrets.

When he'd entered, his dad had left the room to see his mother, and then it had started.

'So, lad, any interesting raids scheduled at work? Anything I need to know about?'

'Dunno, Fred, I work for the dive team, don't see much of the regular cops.'

Connor had watched as Fred's eyes narrowed and his mouth had grown hard.

'I take care of this family, Connor. I don't need to remind you how much it costs putting sweet Marie through her degree. When you count in the tuition fees, the cost of living and buying all those books. Did you know I bought her the latest mac book pro a couple of weeks back? Poor bairn was struggling along on a crappy old laptop that was having some speed issues.'

Connor had felt his temper start to simmer. That ‘crappy old laptop’ Fred had mentioned was only eighteen months old. Connor should know: he'd paid for it. And it hadn't been the cheapest of the cheap either. Marie had been grateful, knew he'd paid for it even though his dad had said it was from all of them. But he didn't know anyone who would turn down a mac book.

He sighed into his beer, recalling the rest of the conversation.

'Dunno how you can keep working for the shit-arse place you work anyway to be honest. Bloody pigs are as dirty as they come. You'd be better off coming and working for me. I could use a good lad like you. But I know you wouldn't do it. Your heads stuck so far up in the clouds.' Then he'd leaned in, become threatening. 'People who fly so high have to watch the sun doesn't burn their feathers. I'd hate to see all this come crashing down around you, lad. Just think how awful it would be for Marie to have to leave uni if I couldn't pay her way, or for your dad and your mum to end up on the streets so close to their retirement. This mortgage is like a noose at times. Sometimes I wonder if I can afford to keep it up. Information helps of course. The last thing I need is the cops treading their big size nines all over my crops, if you get my meaning.'

And Connor had sat there, just taking it. Like he always did. Within seconds he'd been spilling his guts about a raid to a cannabis farm he'd heard about on the rumour mill. A big one by all accounts. As always he didn't say when it was happening, or at what address, but he gave his uncle the area of the raid and that was enough.

Until next time anyway.

His uncle had been becoming more persistent, asking for information more frequently, keen to use the information to improve his reputation.

When it was found out, Connor would be well and truly screwed over. And it would be found out. This sort of thing had a habit of coming out at inopportune times. There was no getting away from the fact that he was leaking information that made him a dirty cop. You could dress it up anyway you wanted, but it still amounted to the same thing. He'd end up getting kicked out of the force, his name in disgrace. And that was the best case scenario. At worst it would mean criminal charges.

Connor sighed again. He had no idea what to do.

Glancing up as a shadow appeared at his table, he realised Marlo was standing in front of him. 'Hey. What're you doing here?' he asked.

'Ordering Mexican food. You gunna nurse that beer all night or come and sit with us?'

'Actually, I've already eaten,' he lied, guilt nibbling at him even as he said the words. 'I was just gunna finish this then head off home. My girlfriend got called back to work. She was on call,' he embellished, feeling the need to explain.

'OK, no problems, just thought I'd ask. See you tomorrow.' Marlo turned and made her way back to her friend who was waiting at one of the window tables.

Wish I could tell her. Maybe she could help.

But he knew he wouldn't tell her. Instead, he left some money on the table to cover the drink, and left.

Chapter Eleven

6
^th
November, 1450 hours – Unit 12b, Sunderland Enterprise Park

Danny knew he was in trouble. No one got taken to the business unit unless it was bad. The search for the girl hadn’t even finished when he’d been shoved into the back of a white van and whisked away. It was like they knew he had helped her escape. So far he’d pleaded and begged his innocence, but he knew they didn’t believe him. They thought he’d slept with her, after all.

And that’s your own doing. Why couldn’t I be more like Gaz and just crack on with the job at hand? Why did I feel like I had to help her?

Berating himself didn’t help though. It hadn’t stopped him being tied to a concrete post last night, and it hadn’t stopped them leaving him there all day today. Chains bound his hands and wrapped around his chest, and he had a rag in his mouth that pulled so tight across his cheeks that the top of his face actually felt numb. He’d wet himself at some point during the night, unable to hold it in any more, and the initial relief of the release now churned in his stomach as the smell of the stale urine crept into his nose to taunt him.

Why the fuck did I help her? I should just tell them she’s in the car and be done with it. She won’t have moved: she was too scared. It’ll be a miracle if they haven’t found her already.

Suddenly the unit door opened, and Rocko stepped inside with Gaz. Both of them looked serious, their faces drawn in determination.
Oh God. They haven’t found her. They’re gunna kill me. Fuck. I don’t do pain. Please, just release this gag and I’ll talk I swear. Please don’t hurt me.

He tried to speak through the gag, tell them that he would help them find her if she wasn’t in the car, but it came out as a muffled, strangled grunt.

He saw Gaz shake his head, look at him with evident disdain. Pleading, he shook his head and grunted again.

I’ll tell you, I swear to God I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Please, just let me take this rag out of my mouth and I promise you’ll know as much as I do.

Rocko advanced first, a knuckle duster glinting in the dull light of the unit. It had been a talking point a couple of years before when he’d leased the unit for a pittance. A serial killer had been loose in Sunderland and had used the unit to kill someone, which had decreased the rental as no one wanted it. It had been empty for ages before Rocko had happened on it. Danny still remembered the grin on the man’s face as he’d told them of the new business place.

Usually it was used for conducting meetings, the kind that needed to be conducted away from prying eyes. But it easily doubled for the dirty jobs too.

Danny winced as the knuckle duster glanced the side of his jaw, his whole face erupting into stabbing pain that travelled around his head to the back of his neck. Trying desperately to make them understand, he shook his head.

Jesus Christ, please listen to me. I’ll tell you. Fuck, this hurts.

The second blow was harder, the third even harder still. Danny no longer knew where his jaw began and ended as his face just felt like an explosion of pain. The taste of metal hit his mouth and he felt blood start to trickle to the back of his throat from a tooth that had dislodged.

Please God, no. This hurts so fucking bad, I can’t do this.

Searing pain suddenly spread across one side of his ribs, rapidly followed by pain on the other side, as Rocko hit him as if he was a punch bag, one blow following the next rapidly. Danny couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t even inhale before the next punch hit and he saw stars as he struggled to draw in oxygen.

You fucking fuckers, stop! Please stop. You bastarding fucking twats. I said I’ll tell you where she is.

The blows stopped, and Danny gasped in a breath. His lungs felt like they’d shrunk to the size of a child’s. Pain pulsed around his body and it was impossible to know where it began and ended. His head dropped forward.
I can’t take much more of this.

Gaz stepped forward now, and when Danny saw the knife in his hand he started screaming, struggling against the chains. But Gaz didn’t use it. Instead he placed it along the side of Danny’s neck, and leaned in to his ear.

‘You know what’s worse than the pain you must be feeling? The thought of the rats that are going to come and feast on your flesh. They love the taste of blood, can smell it from miles away. The back door is ajar, and they’ll come as soon as it gets dark. Sniffing you out, scrabbling in the dark. You won’t even see them until they’re right upon you. We’ll be back tomorrow; maybe you’ll be dead, maybe you won’t. Either way it’ll teach you. You shouldn’t have slept with the little bitch. She was reserved, now she’s gone and the money Rocko would have got has to come from somewhere. Don’t expect to be paid for the last month’s work.’

Twisting the knife sharply, he cut the side of Danny’s neck, not deep but enough to make blood drip down towards his chest. He repeated the motion on his arms and legs, before smiling at Danny.

‘You disgust me. If you’d had a bigger set of balls we’d all be OK. See you tomorrow, stud.’

The slam of the door reverberated and Danny sagged in his chains.