Syn (The Merseyside Crime Series Book 2) Read online

  Skeeter yawned. ‘Standard risk in my opinion and not really our bag if I were to be honest, ma’am, but you’re the boss. You know she’s probably away having it away!’ She fluttered her eyes innocently.

  ‘But if she’s not. Let’s not wing this one. I have a feeling.’

  ‘Carla, in a moment I want you to stand and I want you to remove your clothes apart from your underwear. You’ll remove your upper garments first whilst you remain on the chair. I can assure you that I will turn my back. I am not a sexual predator. I give you my word, so in that sense, you’re safe. When that’s done I will untape your legs. Then I must trust you.’ He paused and stared at her. ‘However, if you try to remove the gag I will …’ He paused again before moving closer to her face than he had done throughout the kidnap. ‘… hurt you.’

  His face remained expressionless. She felt the warmth of his breath. It was strangely comforting yet at the same time unnerving, making him appear human and real. She watched as he bent and slit the tape holding her arms, noticing the balding ring on the crown of his head.

  ‘You may begin to undress when your circulation returns. I’m sorry for any discomfort.’

  Carla hurriedly removed her upper garments and tossed them on the floor next to the chair. He could hear her laboured breathing as only her nostrils could take in the air. The knotted cloth was held tightly in her mouth. It had not moved. She listened when she had done as requested and waited anxiously. She could hear the occasional vehicle some distance away but nothing else.

  ‘Are we done?’ Not waiting for an acknowledgement, he turned. ‘Good. Now listen to me again. It’s critical that you understand and follow my instructions. When you’ve removed your jeans, you need to put on these clothes and remain standing. Do not move away from the chair.’

  Turning, he went to the far side of the room where the diffused light barely filtered before returning with some clothing still in its wrappers. He placed the items before her. ‘I want you to put these on. I know they’ll be on the large side but that’s why we have tape.’ He turned away again.

  Within minutes she was dressed. ‘Don’t forget to remain standing.’ Turning he looked at Carla. The fluorescent jacket, the peaked baseball cap, the blue trousers and the work gloves were on the large size. He moved forward and lifted the jacket before wrapping tape around her waistband, securing the trousers as tightly as possible. He did the same to her thighs just above her knees as he adjusted the length of the trouser legs. The jacket cuffs he allowed to fall over her hands. The final act was to tighten the cap.

  ‘See, that’s better. We still have bits to add but we’ll do that later. You look the part I have to admit, Carla.’

  Slipping the surgical glove below his wrist, he checked his watch. ‘We have time and I think you need a drink. And we need to do something else. We need to ensure that at least one of your friends comes to find you. We have to record a message or two.’ He retrieved her phone. ‘And to do that, Carla, you must ask some of them to rescue you by recording messages here. Can I trust you just to speak and not shout? We’ll soon see.’

  He immediately noticed her relax as she sat in the chair before moving her hands hidden within the sleeves of the jacket to her eyes.

  ‘Let’s remove that gag for a minute or two and then we can get on.’

  Chapter 4

  Lucy and Fred had managed to contact three of the friends by phone and arranged a time to call. It was important that they meet face to face. It was, as Lucy knew only too well, their responses and facial expressions or the photographs on mobile phones that could hold vital clues, help differentiate between truth and lies. These nuances could easily be missed during a phone interview. Meeting face to face was heavy on resources but invaluable.

  Their first meeting with Cameron Jennings went as planned. The reports confirmed what they already knew about Carla. Lucy jotted down as part of his statement something that seemed a little bizarre. It was one of Carla’s favourite sayings, ‘Life is for living – just live it!’ It seemed to be an irony. According to Cameron, it was written on one of the walls of her flat, and she wondered why he had drawn her attention to that. He also informed them that she had gone missing once before – two days in the Lake District. It was to help her overcome an upset. What that upset was he was unsure.

  Tony entered Nic’s Nails and Beauty first and the woman behind the work station peered at them over her glasses, the white protective face mask covering her mouth and nose. She called out for assistance. A man in his early twenties came out from behind a beaded curtain. He walked, toes in, taking small but precise steps.

  ‘How may we assist?’ His lilting voice was mellow and gentle and seemed to match the pinks and yellow mix of his shirt.

  Tony held out his ID. ‘That’s me, and this is DS Warlock. We’d like to speak with the boss.’ Tony’s voice seemed to have dropped an octave as if in contrast to that of the assistant. Skeeter chuckled internally understanding his psychology.

  ‘Please,’ Skeeter added and then smiled.

  ‘I’ll be at least fifteen minutes,’ the person working on the nails called. ‘If you’re happy to wait. This is my last client today. Carlos, offer our guests a drink.’

  Both refused. As Carlos left, Tony turned to Skeeter, pulled a face and mouthed ‘Carlos?’

  It was twenty-five minutes before Nicola slipped the mask from her face and dropped it in the bin. Skeeter watched her stretch and then rub the small of her back before moving across to the waiting area.

  ‘Sorry, took longer than I thought. How can we help? Any news of her? It’s not like her this is it Carlos?’

  A distant voice called back like an answering echo. ‘Not at all. Regular as the Atkinson Gallery clock is our Carla.’

  ‘May I have your full names, please?’ Skeeter asked whilst opening her notepad.

  There was a pause as if she was not expecting the question. ‘Yes, sorry. I’m Nicola Turner and that’s Brian Briggs. We call him Carlos as he always copied the way Carla worked when he first started with us.’

  Carlos popped his face through the beads. He blushed.

  ‘Can you tell us how Carla was on the day she worked late, the day before she went missing, a Wednesday? Her physical and mental state? That was the last time you saw her, yes?’

  ‘Yes. It was a normal day, busy, but then midweek we can be. She chatted about meeting Debbie. We know Debs don’t we, Carlos? She seemed her usual carefree self.’

  Carlos parted the beads again. ‘Lovely lady is Debs. Great fun, as is our Carla.’

  ‘So, the last time you saw her was when she stepped out of that door to go home?’ Tony asked whilst pointing.

  Carlos slipped back behind the screen as if he did not want to answer.

  ‘Yes. Thursday’s always her off day. If we’re busy she’ll usually help out and work. She’s been with me for a few years now. Reliable, professional and you could say, a friend.’

  ‘We know about a failed long-term relationship. Did that cause any issues as far as work was concerned? We know she moved house too. Did she need time off?’

  ‘He was a bit of a dick to be honest. Treated her like a rubbing rag. Handsome bugger though. He was playing away a lot, his clients she told us. I knew it to be a fact. One was another of my friends. Carla had given him a number of chances. He’d send flowers when he was guilty and she’d soon turn and run back to him.’

  ‘Do you know if there was any violence?’

  ‘No, she’d have said. She was more likely to give him a thick ear …’ She stopped as she glanced at Skeeter’s cauliflower ear. ‘Carla could give as good as she got especially when she’d had a few gins.’

  ‘Life is for living – just live it!’ The raised voice from the back called swiftly followed by Carlos’s face. ‘Her motto, her mantra for a happy life.’

  ‘Neither of you have heard from her nor seen her since the evening she left here?’

  Skeeter repeated Tony’s question but th
is time concentrated on Carlos’s expression.

  He shook his head.

  Nicola immediately chipped in. ‘As I said to you earlier. No.’

  The interview was quickly wound up and Tony requested Carla’s client list for the last twelve months to be mailed through to the station. He handed her a card containing his contact details.

  ‘I’d like to photograph your appointment diary for this month so we can start to check against your CCTV.’ He removed a memory stick and placed it on the table between them. ‘I need you to copy all recordings made the week prior to Carla’s last day and disappearance. We need you to keep anything else you have until notified. Is that clearly understood?’

  Nicola was taken aback but agreed. She went to the desk returning with the diary. Tony started to photograph the pages whilst Nicola took the memory stick. On receipt of everything, they left.

  The day was clearly retreating as streaks of orange and yellow blazed the sky. The west coast offered many fiery sunsets at this time of year and tonight’s was going to be special.

  ‘Shepherd’s delight, Tony. Beautiful colours. Turner would be enthralled.’

  Carlos slipped passed them and smiled. ‘Hope you find her soon.’

  Tony nodded and watched as he turned out of sight before returning his gaze to the sky.

  ‘Right! Shepherds, yes, if you say so. To me it’s more like his shirt. That or Hell’s mouth! I need a pint.’

  ‘You always do and besides, that was more pink than red. Did you see Carlos’s expression when I asked about the last time they’d seen Carla?’

  Tony looked at his partner and shook his head, chewing at his thumbnail before spitting the removed section onto the pavement. ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, he never actually answered it. He shook his head did our Brian, but he also looked at his boss for guidance.’

  ‘And the point is?’

  ‘A copper’s nag, Tony. But what would you know about that? You only care about snagged bloody nails. Filthy ones at that. Don’t forget briefing at eight. You can drive me back to the station. I need home, shower and relaxation.’

  ‘I need to give these to Michael. He’ll have them processed for the briefing.’ Tony held up his phone and the memory stick.

  Skeeter smiled inwardly. He might be uncouth but he was very efficient.

  Chapter 5

  He gently removed the drinking straw from the side of Carla’s lips. ‘It’s time, Carla. Did you enjoy the drink?’

  Carla nodded. The light entering the room had slowly diminished rendering the far corners dark and invisible. The only bright spot in the room came from an angled torch standing on end some distance in front of the chair. With it came the silhouette and shadows. By her feet was a pair of wellington boots.

  ‘I want you to put these on. They will fit. I’ll help if you need me to.’ Once on, he taped her arms to the chair again. ‘I’ll only be a moment.’ His words were soft and encouraging. Maybe all this was about to stop. The idea brought a slight flush of excitement to her stomach.

  Carla watched as he raised the garage door, the electric motor offering a slight whir. The growing entry allowed the last rays of the day’s warm coloured light to slowly creep along the concrete floor into the space. They were welcome. Her captor moved outside ducking below the rising door. It was then that she focused on the car as it reversed into the garage. The smell from the exhaust filled her nostrils. The brightness of the reversing light hurt her eyes as she waited for the brake lights to appear. Only one red light winked on momentarily. Within those few seconds the idea flashed into her mind that this all might be a silly hoax. Were friends playing a joke on her? Would someone suddenly jump out holding a camera and call ‘Surprise!’? The thought arrived and disappeared as swiftly as the flash of red light. She watched the driver return. Although she had no idea who this man was, he had, in a strange way, always been considerate and kind. If this was someone’s idea of a bloody joke then they’re in for a right bollocking, she muttered to herself.

  The torch light flashed on the blade. Carla watched as it quickly sliced through the tape and she was escorted to the rear passenger seat. He pulled the seat belt over her shoulder before slipping an electrician’s tie round her wrist and then through the passenger restraining handle just above the door.

  ‘Comfy? We’re going for a ride and then, if you do as you’re told I’m going to leave you. Someone will find you because I’ll send your friends the message you recorded from your phone. I wonder who’ll be the first to come to your rescue? You’ve been a good girl, Carla. I hope they all come at once.’ He smiled and patted her knee again with his gloved hand. ‘Retribution you understand. You know the word?’

  Carla shook her head.

  ‘I thought not. I know it can seem wrong to seek retribution after the event. I’m sure you’re aware that time can heal and it often does, after all, they say it’s the universal healer. I’m not so sure. I’ve thought long and hard about all of this. I want you to know that. Both have a purpose – retribution and time – both can heal, Carla, but one, I feel, will always leave a scar. Healing and being healed is how we survive as human beings … it’s how we move on. You have to destroy to create. You know that saying? Anyway, let’s not worry about the rights and wrongs. We’ve come this far; we should see it through.’

  The drive took twenty minutes. The roads grew narrow and twisting and Carla felt the car slow as it pulled to the side of the road and onto a rough track. Beads of sweat had formed beneath the rim of the cap as nausea crept into her stomach owing to the car’s motion.

  ‘Do you see him yet, your twin?’ The interior was dark but she could sense his excitement.

  She watched as his arm pointed to the right side of the car. There appeared to be nothing visible. Allowing her eyes to focus and acclimatise to the dark conditions she could slowly make out a figure towards the centre of the small field. She prayed it would be the person with the camera.

  ‘Do you see him?’ He turned and looked at her, an eagerness in his question that was almost childlike. ‘No? This will help you. Look now!’

  Lifting the small but high-powered torch he shone it through the glass. The focused beam illuminated the object, the figure. At first Carla thought it was a real person, maybe a friend but her optimism soon waned as she realised it was a scarecrow. It was not like you imagine a typical scarecrow to look; as if crucified, arms out, no feet, old clothes blowing in what breeze there was. This was far more sophisticated. It was probably a shop mannequin. The arms were positioned to look as though they were holding a shotgun across the front of their body. The clothes were vivid and bright. Goggles covered the eyes and a scarf the mouth. The red baseball cap finished the makeover and gave it a human appearance. What really caught her eye was the slowly rotating CDs dangling from the sleeves and waist. The reflective surfaces caught the flashlight beam returning the light as they spun in the breeze.

  ‘This farmer has always fascinated me. He makes and hides the most magnificent scarecrows. Yes, I know you’re dressed in exactly the same clothes … as I said, you’re twins. Now, Carla, I’m going to ask you to be good just one final time.’

  April Decent had walked Tico, her blue brindle greyhound, along Ainsdale beach. It was a rescue dog, proving to be gentle, loyal and good natured. Initially, he was always on the lead as he was constantly alert. If he saw something in the distance he would be gone. She had been warned that the breed can see things humans cannot and would chase anything moving; even a plastic bag caught by the wind would be fair game. Coming from racing, this new world was very different and he needed time to become accustomed to new experiences and a new way of life. In that respect, he was a bit like her.

  Looking at him now, they had both succeeded. Even Sky, the neighbour’s Border Collie, had started to accept him. Tico, now curled in front of the wood-burning stove, was the picture of gentleness and peace. His right paw occasionally twitched as if linked to part of his dream. Maybe he w
as racing again. Who would ever know? April sipped red wine and listened to music. It was a sad song about broken boats by folk duo, The Huers. Their music had been recommended to her. She found it hard to concentrate on it now, and even though the song was beautiful her mind was elsewhere. In all her police career, women going missing without trace always brought to her a strange anxiety. How could someone, unless by their own volition, simply disappear without anyone seeing? In reality it happened frequently, and on many occasions, those missing are never found. They become vapour, ghosts but were more likely modern-day slaves.

  She flicked through the notes she had brought home of the missing people logged on the Merseyside website. Age did not seem to play a part, but sex did as there appeared to be more long-term missing females than males. Carla was not the first and neither would she be the last, but she was the first on April’s watch. That upset her and made her more determined to find her. Why had this case focused her mind when the assessments had it logged as standard risk? Even Skeeter thought her foolish. She reflected on the word ‘standard’. It was a clever way of saying ‘low’, translated as ‘bugger off and stop wasting valuable police time’. Sipping more wine, an advert for condoms came to mind where clever psychology had been utilised within the wording: ‘large, medium and trim’. Trim? Nobody would admit to small. She chuckled to herself.