Snatched From Home: What Would You Do To Save Your Children? (DI Harry Evans Book 1) (13 page)

Victoria’s mobile beeped once. The clear, insistent sound told her she had a text. Snatching up the mobile, she tapped the screen until the message was displayed.

Her heart fell as she read it. Just like the first one from the kidnappers, it told her to visit watchmykids.com for an update. Running through to the kitchen, she grabbed her laptop from its case and began the task of plugging it in and booting it up.

Conflicted between dread and a natural desire to see if her children were OK, she prayed to a god she’d never believed in. Bile threatened to erupt from her throat, but she swallowed it back down. The taste in her mouth would have repulsed her in less trying circumstances; now she used it to focus her mind on what she was about to see.

Victoria told herself that there was little need to worry too much. The deadline was still three days away. Despite this knowledge, she knew that what she was about to see would not give her any pleasure, other than potentially seeing her children were unhurt.

She had tormented and reassured herself at least five times a day by watching the first video of her children. While they looked fit and healthy, watching Samantha parade around in the sexy costume sickened her every time she watched it.

As the laptop prepared itself for use she yelled to Nicholas to come and join her. Bringing up the home page she went straight to the site using a shortcut she had saved to her desktop.

This time when she got to the site there was a different video link, clicking on it she could Samantha was standing in front of a wall wearing a red dress. The video had been shot from a distance and she couldn’t make out many details.

Thank God. She’s got a dress on. They haven’t made her strip
.

As she peered at the screen trying to see if her daughter was injured in any way, music sounded out and Samantha started to dance. It was the most half-hearted, lacklustre dance she’d ever seen her daughter do.

The focus of the video was adjusted, until it was zoomed in on Samantha’s face. Victoria examined her daughter’s face looking for any sign of mistreatment. Finding none she sank back in her chair, exhaling the breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

With an inexorable slowness the camera panned down until Samantha’s breasts filled the screen. Her nipples visible through the thin material of the dress.

Unable to watch any more, Nicholas turned his eyes away, but Victoria grabbed his head and pointed his face back at the screen.

‘I can’t watch this, Victoria. It’s not right. No father should ever watch his daughter in a video like that.’

‘It’s your fault she’s in that bloody video. Not watching it isn’t an option for you.’

Victoria’s eyes never left the screen as she spat the words at her husband.

The music changed and Samantha began a new dance routine as the camera kept creeping down her body.

With her eyes locked onto Samantha’s lace-clad body, Victoria searched for any sign of a pair of knickers. It was bad enough that Samantha’s breasts were exposed through the sheer material without her groin being displayed in the same way.

Thicker lace came into view causing Samantha’s skin to be less defined. Blurrier. Still the camera descended, the hem of the dress coming into view. Halting, the camera went out of focus for a second. When it adjusted itself, Victoria could see tufts of hair through the thin material.

Lingering on the scene for an age the cameraman zoomed out just enough to show Samantha’s body from the knees up.

Looking on aghast, Victoria and Nicholas could see Samantha’s dress climbing her legs as she danced. Each bounce of her breasts tugged the thin fabric ever higher. Soon the hem would no longer cover Samantha’s most intimate areas.

‘They’re sick. How can they do that? Why are they degrading her like that?’

‘Don’t be such a dickhead. They are doing that to give us extra incentive to get the money. To keep us off-balance and compliant to their demands.’

Victoria was still admonishing her husband when the video stopped with a suddenness that surprised them both. A still of Kyle sitting cross-legged, a games controller in his hands, lasted a few seconds before fading out.

A jolting memory caused Victoria to leap from her seat. Her footsteps thudded up stairs as she charged toward the master bedroom, propelled by a sense of dread.

Entering her bedroom, she fell to her knees and grabbed the rough wooden handles which adorned her naughty-knicker drawer, then pulled the drawer right out from its socket. Lifting it above the bed, she turned it upside down, emptying the contents onto the crisp, white duvet.

Tossing the empty drawer aside, she grabbed at anything red she saw.

A bra was discarded first, two pairs of knickers followed. A flimsy red basque was grabbed in hope, before it joined the other rejected items.

Dispersing the pile across the full expanse of the bed, she looked in vain for the lacy red dress she’d worn for Nicholas.

She went down on her knees snaking her arm into the gaping maw left by the missing drawer. Groping around she felt carpet and then her fingers touched lace. Pulling her hand out, she identified the lace as a pair of briefs.

Trying again, she found nothing more than balls of lint and a biro that had rolled underneath the chest of drawers.

Everything she feared regarding the red dress Samantha had worn was true. It was hers. She’d bought it last year as a birthday treat for Nicholas. The man whose reckless actions had precipitated the whole sequence of events, transforming their respectable middle-class lives into a waking nightmare.

Revulsion at the kidnapper’s twisted imagination, spurred Victoria towards the bathroom where she vomited until nothing else would come out.

A thought pierced her brain and heart like a dagger. Hollering downstairs, she demanded Nicholas come up to join her.

‘What’s up?’ Concern at the way she had summoned him showed on his ashen face.

‘We need to go through these.’

‘Just bung them back in the drawer. We have more important things to do.’

Victoria had to fight back another bout of nausea before she could speak again.

‘You don’t understand. That dress Samantha was wearing. It’s the one I wore for your birthday.’

‘Shit. I thought it looked familiar.’

Victoria shook her head, trying to clear it before explaining, ‘My dress is missing. The dress Samantha’s wearing in the video is identical to the one I wore for you.’

Waving away his protestations that she must be mistaken, Victoria began sorting her lingerie into matching sets.

‘We’ve got to check all of this and work out if anything else is missing.’ As she spoke Victoria was trying to recall if she owned any underwear that was more revealing than the missing dress. Every outfit she remembered morphed into the red lacy number she’d seen her daughter wearing.

She needed Nicholas’s help to recall the details. He’d always liked her in sexy underwear and since the early days of the Internet he’d even bought her some bits and pieces. Unlike a lot of other men buying their wives underwear, he’d shown good taste and had purchased quality garments that made her feel sexy rather than slutty. It was she who’d bought the sluttier items.

Nicholas started to help. Together they paired bras and knickers, laying the various chemises and babydolls out flat so they were easier to identify.

Set by set, they ticked each item off their mental lists, sometimes questioning each other about the occasion something was worn.

Victoria made neat rows for birthdays, wedding anniversaries and other occasions. One gap glared at them. Nicholas’s last birthday.

When Victoria was sure that she could recall nothing more, she set about questioning Nicholas, probing him for details about other outfits he’d liked to see her wearing, in case they missed a set that the kidnappers had stolen. Any he could remember were ones she was positive she’d thrown out.

Dumping the outfits back into the drawer, she grabbed the pairs of stockings and started tossing them into the drawer when her fingers noticed something amiss. The familiar waxen feel of her fishnets was absent. Victoria thought hard and a memory of putting them back into the drawer after she’d last worn them surfaced, but a frantic search through the pile did not uncover them. They were gone.

They’ve taken them too. Oh my poor girl, what will they make you do next?

Evans needed food but he didn’t know what he wanted to eat. Bored with takeaways he fancied something more nutritious than chips, pizza or Chinese food. A curry was an option, but he’d eaten two vindaloos and a phaal in the last week.

Instead he decided to try the Mexican restaurant on the Crescent. He’d always wanted to dine there, but Janet had preferred to eat at Italian restaurants or find a country pub with low beams and a traditional menu.

Evans followed the waiter who seated him at a small table in a back corner of the restaurant. He didn’t care about being given the worst table in the room. As a single diner he knew he couldn’t expect anything better and the seat allowed him to watch the whole room.

As the waiter had deposited a beer on the table and taken away his order, he’d noticed three familiar faces walk through the door.

The woman in the velour tracksuit was the first to spot him but as she strode forward, her brothers’ faces darkened with barely supressed anger when they recognised him.

Standing up, he greeted Maureen Leighton and exchanged scowls with Tony and Dennis.

‘You here on your own, Harry?’ Maureen’s accent was pure Carlisle. ‘Because if you are, I’d like you to join us.’

‘I’m not eating with him.’

‘Suit yourself.’ Maureen turned to her other brother. ‘What about you, Dennis?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t give a fuck who’s at the table so long as I get something to eat soon.

‘It’s all right, Maureen. I’m just in for a quick bite and then I’m heading home.’

‘Nonsense. I won’t have a man in your position eating alone. Besides, I need to talk to you.’

Evans stood up with reluctance. While he was glad of the opportunity to talk to Maureen, a detective inspector shouldn’t be seen dining with the people behind organised crime. On the other hand, he was curious to know why Maureen wanted to talk to him.

Evans was ushered by a nervous-looking waiter to a large round table, where he made sure he sat next to Maureen but opposite Tony. He could handle any confrontation the man threw at him, but he’d prefer to have a calm discussion than a shouting match.

‘It’s the trial next week, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah.’ Evans hoped this wasn’t what Maureen wanted to discuss. The trial of Derek Yates wasn’t something he was looking forward to although it was dominating most of his thoughts. Maureen’s lined face held a sympathy Evans found disconcerting. ‘I hope you get the right result. The bastard deserves to go down for a long time for what he did.’

‘Thanks.’ Evans decided to change the subject to a safer ground where he could be more assured of his footing. ‘There’s a lot of stuff coming to my attention these days. I do hope you’re not involved in any of it.’

If the Leightons weren’t behind the crimes, there was a good chance they’d know who was. Failing that, they’d be determined to discover who was operating in their territory. While the crimes weren’t in their usual sphere, there was no telling what they were involved in.

‘You mean the robberies and those garages getting ripped off?’ Maureen’s eyes narrowed as she watched his face.

‘Just the robberies. I know who’s behind the garages.’

‘That’s nothing to do with anyone we know. Who’s at it with the garages?’

Evans smiled. ‘I see no need for you to know that name. I’ll deal with them.’ He took a slug of his beer and eyed her. ‘Would you tell me if the boot was on the other foot?’

‘Of course I would. You know I always do my very best to help the police with their enquires.’ Maureen’s reply drew a smirk from Tony.

‘Touché.’

When their meals arrived, Evans was amused to see Tony had also ordered fajitas. As he pulled out his bottle of Tabasco sauce he saw Tony’s watchful glare and decided to have some fun. ‘I like to add a little kick to my meals. Do you want some?’

‘Too right. Gies it here.’

Evans passed the bottle across once he’d added a liberal amount to his meal. Tony’s eyes were full of challenge as he splashed Tabasco sauce all over his plate. The table was silent as they ate their meals. Evans could see Tony was struggling with the heat. His hand would reach towards his beer only to recoil as he realised taking a drink would be seen as a sign of weakness. Evans had no such fears and kept sipping at his beer between mouthfuls, so his mouth was treated to a cool–hot cycle which retained the fire in every bite.

When the meal was finished, he stood up and dropped enough money on the table to cover his share. Before leaving he couldn’t resist firing a parting shot at Tony, ‘A wee word of advice, Tony. You may want to put the toilet roll in the fridge ready for the morning.’

He left with a Maureen’s chuckles in his ears and a picture of Tony’s stricken face imprinted into his mind.