Devil's Demise (6 page)

His eyes were dead of all emotion as he grabbed her foot and dragged her through the woods, her body light and fragile; but he did not care as her skin was once again torn by the trees he passed. He stopped at the car and pondered on what to do with the body.
Should I just bury her here?
Then he remembered she had a small bag with her. He leant into the car and checked it, and as he suspected there was a phone inside. “Fuck,” he exclaimed out
loud, a traceable source, a beacon to where they were and what they’d just been up to. “Damn you, fucking bitch.”

He dismantled the phone, and placed it back in her bag. He drove several more miles back to a bridge that he had seen as he drove there earlier. Below the bridge there was a fast flowing river, deep and dangerous. He wiped the phone as best as he could and threw all of the pieces he had dismantled into the river. He then carried on miles further up the road and stopped at the edge of another copse of trees. He gathered up Layla’s limp and bleeding body and her things and started to walk, his torch giving the only light. Once he was a fair distance from his car he dug a shallow grave using a small folding spade that he carried in case his car got stuck in the snow. Perfect for what he was about to do: get rid of tonight’s conquest.
Nobody comes here, the animals will have her devoured before she is found
, he hoped.
Who cares anyway? They can’t trace me, dumb fucks
. He thought of the police trying to trace him, when he was right there under their noses.

Present day. “Marcus honey, come back to bed. You’re never at home these days!” Maria called from the bedroom. Little David was safely tucked up at his Grandmother’s house, leaving the chance for a little peace and privacy. Marcus stepped out of the shower, torn between what he should be doing and what he wanted to do. He dried himself and wondered what Taylor would say if he was late.
Hmmm!
She would ask why, then smile and completely understand as she had numerous pre convictions for similar reasons, her lateness also due to untamed intimate pleasures.

Marcus entered the bedroom to see his wife lying partially covered by the silk sheets, a tasteful but seductive set of
underwear
revealing enough to arouse any man. Marcus smiled at her, his heart pounding with desire as he gazed down at her with his mind no longer in the grip of indecision; he moved towards her, his arousal very obvious to see. Maria reached up to him gripping his hair and pulling him onto her, Marcus kissed her with full and focused passion, an intimacy between them that had kept their relationship on fire for many years. He moved to pleasure her in an unselfish way, but Maria just whispered in his ear and gripped his head. “Just fuck me Marcus, I want you inside
me now, I want you, I want you.” She kissed him feverishly and he pulled her panties to the side and smoothly and powerfully entered her, her moan making his face flush and his stomach twist with the pleasure he was feeling; his penis went deep into her, his mouth devouring hers, his rhythmic thrusts making her head roll backwards, her hips lifting up to let him grip her pert bottom, allowing his pelvis to rub her over and over, her orgasm overwhelming, her breathing quivering as he continued to enter her. He wanted more. She wanted more.

Marcus turned her on her side and re-entered her from behind, his hands caressing her silky swollen pleasure from the front, his kisses powerful and demanding, Maria turned her head round to allow their mouths to meet, Marcus finally giving in to his physical need and letting go, his hands and thrusts continuing until Maria tensed her body, trapping him in the grip of her orgasm; he took hold of her, kisses still manic and desperate although not with the animal desire previously felt. Maria freed herself from him and turned to face him, her face and neck flushed with the pleasure of their intimate hot sex. She held his face and kissed him, her tongue savouring his kiss, his meeting hers and the tenderness overwhelming.

“I love you, Marcus Black.”

“I love you too, Mrs Black.”

“You do realise that I’m going to be really, really late, young lady and I won’t know what to say.”

Maria smiled at him and whispered to him, “You’re not going anywhere.”

She pushed him over onto his back and used her mouth to arouse him again. She straddled him and demanded more, her body taking him into her, his hands slipping over and over her silky mound, again and again she came hard, her body tensed and needy; Marcus looked at her in disbelief, not unpleasant disbelief as she eventually sighed and slumped against him.

“I’ve really missed you.”

Marcus held her tight and said, “Not half,” and laughed with her, their bodies joined together in their twisted sheets, bodies glistening with beads of sweat and faces flushed with the glow of pent up desire and exhaustion.

After another shower Marcus finally left the house and headed to work. He rang his boss. She answered, “Yes, DS Nicks.”

Marcus fibbed as he said, “I’m sorry I’m late, I was caught up.”

“In the sheets,” Taylor cut in. “It’s about time you lived a normal life like me, flying by the seat of your pants and telling lies about being stuck in traffic, cause that’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it?”

Marcus remained silent with a big warm smile spreading over his face; he couldn’t have wished for a better boss, and hot too.

Taylor informed him, “I’m up at the enquiry office looking into the outstanding missing people files. You could meet me there. That will stop Findlay getting in about your mince. See you soon, you naughty boy.”

The enquiry office was a specialist department in the police that dealt with missing people and all of the sudden deaths in the city. There were 10 dedicated officers who catered to the next of kin; when a death occurred, they produced in-depth death reports for the procurator fiscal. They also collated and recorded all information about every missing person in the city area and any enquiry made relating to each case documented. They created invaluable databases which officers could refer to and utilize, whenever the need arose.

Taylor looked up from her computer with a great big smile directed at a rather flustered DC Black.

“Glad you could come in, better late than never though, eh!”

Marcus apologised genuinely and pulled up a seat beside Taylor. She was looking as polished as ever, her tight fitting suit and long spiralling hair covering her shoulders, her scent intoxicating - any man’s dream, if you didn’t mind never reaching your goal.

“How long have you been at it?” Marcus, realising what he had just said, was leaving himself wide open for Taylor’s reply, which followed quickly.

“No, how long have you been at it more like?” Her laughter escaped and she patted him on the shoulders, as if to say
that’s my boy
.

“Let’s get down to business. We are looking for women, I’m not sure that the accused will have a certain age group, as we only have one victim.”

“That we know about!” added Marcus.

“Although I do think it will only be women, the man at the house was not planned, he just got in the way, poor old soul.”

“How many do we have?”

“What, in Edinburgh or Scotland? Who knows how far he’s travelled to indulge in his sick fantasies,” Taylor replied with a tone of disgust, as her mind returned to Susan and the way he had sadistically left her.

“I think we have about six or seven that have potential, having looked through the files. There are two in Edinburgh, three in Glasgow and one in the Borders that I think we should look at first.”

Marcus pointed to the picture of one of the outstanding missing women, a young Polish prostitute; her name was Layla Petrovsky and she had been missing since Halloween a year ago.

“How do we even know if she’s still in this country? She might have made her money and gone back to where she came from - maybe just had enough and left, who knows?”

“Well, we’ll just have to work our way through all of them systematically and see if anything has been missed or if there is a lead we can still follow. A lot of enquiry has obviously been done and nothing has come to light so far that has made them suspicious enough to turn them into murder enquiries, not yet anyway.”

Marcus began his enquiry into Mary Dawkins, a 29 year old music teacher from Edinburgh, who had not been seen since December the year previously, and Taylor took the other Edinburgh case, the prostitute Layla Petrovsky missing since November the same year; neither of them looked overly suspicious, just people who had their own reasons for not wanting to be found, or on the other hand, other people who didn’t want them to be found, but it was a start.

On Layla’s report it had been her pimp Nicky who had reported her missing, not because he cared, but because he was losing a lot of money. Layla was a pretty slim thing with great earning potential as Nicky had beaten her regularly to do everything that the punters wanted: anal, kinky, bondage, sadomasochism, the works, because that brought in more hard cash for him and a lot of pain and degradation for her, but he didn’t care about that.

Marcus and Taylor went their separate ways. Marcus headed to the west side of Edinburgh to look into Miss Dawkins missing from the Cramond area, a very affluent area of the city with large houses and expensive cars, two golf courses and a beautiful
river walk on the resident’s doorsteps. The Almond cascaded for miles, all the way down to the waterfront marina where enthusiastic yachtsmen moored their treasured boats. An area where there wasn’t a lot of crime, unless people took the time to travel to commit it. Marcus stopped outside the home of Miss Dawkins and walked confidently up the driveway. Just as he was about to knock on the door, it was pulled open by a young man in his late 20s with skinny features, sloping shoulders, messy hair, big eyebrows and a weak jaw. Marcus introduced himself and asked if he could come in and ask some questions.

DS Nicks arrived on the east side of Edinburgh at the high flats near to the docks, the exact opposite of the area where Marcus was making his enquiry. She got out of her car and immediately spotted a group of teenagers loitering at the entrance to the tower block that she wanted to enter. The flats were twinned, two pillars looming in the night and each had 20 floors. They both had bold yellow and blue paint work on their exterior walls, with brightly lit red beacons at the top as they were on the flight path to Edinburgh airport. The lower floors were decorated with obscene pictures of genitalia and swear words from the local budding artists and poets, filling in their time before they had the opportunity to rob someone or cause an unsuspecting passer-by a heap of misery, just so they could have a laugh and boast to their mates about their exploits, or get hold of someone else’s hard earned cash.

She strode boldly towards the entrance, not showing any fear or intimidation to the group that stood there menacingly, knowing these people fed on any little sign of weakness.

As she walked towards the door, the loudest bold boy wolf whistled at her and leered at his mates saying, “I’d like to get myself a piece of that. He grabbed his crotch, thrusting it towards her.

She ignored him until she reached the door, underestimating them a little, thinking that they didn’t have it in them. She was about to pull it open, when a foot appeared and stopped the door from opening. Taylor turned round quickly to end up face to face with the loud cocky male, her pulse was now racing as she was well aware of what could happen. She pondered for a moment whether to reveal she was a cop or not, as sometimes this could provoke the situation even more. Taylor stared right into the male’s eyes, which were equally locked on hers. He was slightly
taken aback at her confidence and lack of apparent fear. There were five other teenagers in the group; the main instigator was the same height as she was. He had a strong wiry build, short fair hair, stubble on his chin and was dressed in dark sports clothing, although there was no chance of him playing sport. It was almost like a uniform for the kids on the street, unidentifiable with similar brands of clothing to limit the likelihood of being identified for the crimes they had committed or were about to commit. Taylor took a bold step towards the lad and fronted up to him, his five mates astonished at her bravery, with not a word to say. Taylor politely said to him, “What the fuck do you want? Get your foot out my way or I’ll twist your fucking bollocks off!”

He spluttered a bit, not sure what to do. Most people didn’t react in this way; she was dominating his space and making him look like a tit in front of his mates.

His decision was made and he put his hand up to her face to try and shut her up, shoving her backwards, using her face to push and show her who she was messing with. Without flinching Taylor grabbed his fingers and twisted them right round, his wrist and arm following, and before he knew it he was on his knees begging her to release the goose neck grip she had on him. She told his mates if they came any closer she would snap his wrist and she meant it wholeheartedly.

At that unfortunate moment her personal radio went off; it was the control room requesting a welfare check on her, the timing was that shit it put her welfare at even more risk. Taylor couldn’t respond as she would not let the teenager go and his mates were still there loitering in a menacing way. The message on the radio was repeated, again with no response, and this made the youths uneasy.

All personal radios had GPS tracking and Taylor’s exact location would be shown on the main computer. Units were now being immediately dispatched without any radio confirmation, a fallback which was necessary for situations like this.

The boy, who was now on the ground, yelled out at his mates to get the bitch and kicked Taylor hard in the shin. She reacted with a brutal twist of her hand and an unearthly snap was heard simultaneously to the slapping sound against her jaw. One of the males standing watching had finally grown a set of balls and punched the slim, defenceless and outnumbered lady in the face
whilst slurring, “Pig bitch,” as he did so. The guy on the ground was still rolling about in agony as his wrist was clearly broken as promised, but the others now closed in on her, stepping forward in turns to slap and kick her. Taylor punched one of them square in the jaw and grabbed another by his unkempt hair and twisted her hand quickly and powerfully, as the other two continued their attack on her. Taylor was starting to wonder if her bravery had been a mistake and thought she might not come out of this too well.

At last, after what seemed like an age, but had only been minutes, two cop cars screeched to a stop pulling up beside them, mounting the pavement as they did so, and four officers leapt out with their batons drawn. Two of the teenagers scampered away, but were hotly pursued by two cops. The other two stayed put, one because he was too fat to have a chance to get away and the other still had his hair trapped tightly in Taylor’s grasp, the whining hero lay on the floor with a broken wrist, screaming that he was going to sue her. Taylor just looked down at him and said, “Self defence, you prick! You reap what you sow you arrogant little twat!”

Taylor was clearly shaken up. Another cop car arrived after the confirmation that there were numerous assailants involved. This was relayed to the control room by the cops first on the scene when they arrived and saw what was actually happening. They quickly took Taylor aside, noting that she had a burst lip, facial bruising and swelling and an obviously bruised jaw.

“I’ll call an ambulance for you Serg,” the young constable said in a soft and calming manner.