Trespass (P.I. Johnson Carmichael Series - Book 2) (2 page)

‘What bloody time do you call this?’ said a voice, the sudden noise catching Beth off guard.

‘Cynthia, I’m so sorry,’ she replied with a grimace.

‘The office must have relaxed its uniform requirements somewhat,’ Cynthia stated eyeing Beth’s limited attire. Beth’s eyes followed Cynthia’s and she silently cursed as she realised that she had forgotten to change her clothes on the eventful journey home. She tried to think of an excuse, but her imagination let her down.

‘I’m sorry, Cynthia,’ she said, scrunching her face, ‘I should have said something earlier; I didn’t go to work tonight as it was my best friend’s birthday, and…’

‘And girls will be girls,’ Cynthia finished for her, the initial expression of concern softening to her usual warm smile. ‘It’s okay,’ Cynthia continued, moving closer and placing an arm around her shoulders, ‘I remember what it was like to be young. Just don’t go making a habit of it.’

‘I won’t,’ she promised, gratefully. ‘How was Lauren tonight?’

‘As good as gold, as she always is. She went down just before eight and I haven’t heard a peep out of her since.’

Cynthia lifted her coat from a peg near the door and slipped it over her shoulders.

‘What’s it like out? I presume it’s not too cold, judging by what you’re wearing?’

Beth wasn’t even sure she could recall what the climate had been like.

‘Is everything alright?’ Cynthia asked, sensing the younger woman’s confusion.

‘Yeah…I guess,’ she offered.

‘You seem distracted, Beth. I told you not to worry. All I’d ask is, next time just tell me you are going out for some fun. I think it’s a good thing actually. A young girl like you shouldn’t be at home alone every night; you should be fighting off admiring suitors with a stick.’

Beth blushed.

‘I tell you what,’ Cynthia continued, ‘I’ll pop round for a cup of tea tomorrow and let’s see if we can come up with a plan to improve your love-life. What do you say?’

The idea of discussing her intimate desires with her fifty year-old neighbour sounded horrible, but she nodded politely.

‘Go careful, won’t you?’ she said, as Cynthia opened the front door into the hallway. ‘There are some strange people out there.’

‘Heavens, Beth!’ Cynthia replied. ‘I only live two doors away. I’m pretty sure I can make it home in one piece. You kids really do have overactive imaginations!’

With that, the door was closed and Beth was left alone in her hallway. She remained in the same place for a moment, to gather her thoughts and to push the memory of her earlier paranoia to the back of her mind, before moving towards the living room and through to the bedroom she shared with Lauren. She carefully opened the door a crack and peaked in. Lauren was lying in the middle of the double bed, her head resting in the small gap between the two pillows. She stood watching her in a daydream for several minutes before a yawn brought her back.

What needs to be done?

It was practically Saturday morning and her mother was due to come round to watch Lauren while she covered a six hour shift at the local newsagent’s. The lounge looked a state, with several of Lauren’s toys scattered across the floor. Cynthia always seemed reluctant to tidy up after she had been playing with Lauren but Beth knew that she had no place to criticise, given that Cynthia’s visits were voluntary. She started to collect up the toys and place them in the green plastic box in the corner of the room where all the toys lived. Her neck was aching and she felt exhausted but she knew her mother would be round before nine o’clock and there just wouldn’t be the time to tidy up first thing. Beth’s shift at the shop was going to start at ten as Mr Rajdhani was taking his wife out for the day. He would open the shop at six and prepare the papers, and Beth would relieve him before he returned at four to close up and count the takings.

As she brushed past the small coffee table next to the sofa, the envelope fell to the floor; memory of its contents thumped back to the front of her mind.

The letter had come the afternoon before, in the day’s second delivery. The handwriting had looked vaguely familiar and she had opened it eagerly. Her intrigue had been short-lived, however, when she discovered who had sent it.

Dorky Watkins. Or Darren, as he had signed it.

She had no idea how he had found her address, as it wasn’t listed in the telephone directory. He wanted to meet, so the letter said; he had a new vocation now and had decided it was time for him to take responsibility for his past mistakes.
That’s big of him
, she had thought. He ended the letter asking for her to telephone him to arrange to meet up. His return address confirmed that he no longer lived with his parents and that he was now living across the city in the Shirley area.

Why now?

Lauren was four years-old, it had been five years since that fateful night. What had changed to make him suddenly want to get acquainted with his offspring, having previously denied her existence?

She had read the letter several times since and each time, it sent a chill down her spine. She had even had a dream where they had married and moved in together. In the dream, her life flew by and she was suddenly forty years-old, living in a dingy flat, applying lotion to his acne.

She shuddered as she picked up the fallen envelope and placed it back on the table. She hadn’t phoned him yet and wasn’t even certain if she would. What future could he
really
offer Lauren and her? Whilst life for them wasn’t ideal at the moment, they were surviving: with the support of friends and family, she was making adequate money from her two jobs and hadn’t missed the rent on the flat in the last three months. Little Lauren wanted for nothing, was fed regularly and made good use of donated clothing.

Receiving the letter wasn’t a total surprise to Beth. She had thought she had seen him near the newsagent’s recently. Southampton wasn’t a particularly large city and it was easy to bump into old friends and former acquaintances. She hadn’t thought he had seen her as he had been looking away when she had noticed him, but thinking about it now, maybe he had. Maybe he had followed her back one afternoon and had found her address that way. It would be so typical of him, if he had. He had given her the creeps for a long time and she still didn’t know what had possessed her to sleep with him that night.

Beth surveyed the room and was satisfied that it was in a reasonable state. No doubt, her mother would comment that it could be cleaner, but then she always liked to have something to moan about. She stifled a yawn and started to remove her clothes and placed them in a neat pile on the arm of the sofa. She decided she would put them away in the morning, as fumbling about in the dark bedroom would probably disturb Lauren.

She opened the door as quietly as she could, located her nightie on the floor by the bed, and slipped it over her head and shoulders. Lauren’s face was still resting between the pillows so Beth squeezed in beside her. She kissed Lauren on the cheek and whispered that she loved her: her nightly ritual. Then turning back, she slipped her legs under the thick duvet and placed her head on the pillow. In the darkness she couldn’t make out the time on her small wrist watch but guessed it must have been about half past twelve.

‘Mummy?’ said a sleepy-sounding whisper.

Beth turned towards her daughter and whispered, ‘I’m here, my angel.’

It was all the encouragement Lauren needed and she rolled over and put an arm across her mother’s chest in a loving hug. Beth loved moments like this, when her daughter would show her love subconsciously. She moved her own arms and wrapped them tightly around the child.

‘I love you, Lauren,’ she whispered.

‘Love you, mummy.’

Beth adjusted her right arm slightly, allowing Lauren to roll into the nook of her arm pit, her head lying gently on Beth’s ribcage. The warmth of her daughter cradled so close was all the comfort Beth needed.

‘It won’t always be like this, I promise,’ she gently whispered. ‘One day, I’ll find enough money so that we can do all the things you deserve to do: we’ll get a bigger house, with a large garden for you to run around in and we’ll go on an aeroplane to go on holiday too. It will be so good for you, Lauren. Mummy will make things better. You’ll see.’

She pecked her daughter’s cheek once more and then pressed her cheek into the top of Lauren’s head.

‘I’ll find the money,’ she vowed through another yawn, although she wasn’t sure if it was aimed at Lauren or herself.

She was soon asleep.

Beth’s head rolled from side to side. In her sleepy state, she was running away from a dark creature, but he was gaining on her. She knew he wanted to hurt her, but she couldn’t let him get her: she had to protect Lauren.
No
, she silently screamed,
I won’t let you hurt her
. As she ran blindly in the dark, she suddenly lost her footing and then she was falling, through the dark, warm air. Faster and faster she fell. Her handbag slipped from her shoulder and the contents spilled out, landing on the hard surface below, each item thudding as it made contact. There must have been a lot of items in her handbag as the thudding continued, growing louder the closer she came to the ground.

Her body was just about to collide, when her eyes shot open and she jolted awake as she realised she was in bed: it had just been a bad dream.

She felt clammy and pushed the warm duvet back from her sweaty body. She was just considering what might have caused the strange images when she remembered why she had been running from the monster:
Lauren
.

Beth turned to where her daughter had been lying and was relieved to find her fast asleep, pushed up against the wall at the far side of the bed.

At least my nightmare didn’t wake her
, Beth thought.

A loud banging emanated from out in the hallway somewhere:
What’s that noise?

Beth climbed out of bed and opened the bedroom door, shuffling into the living room. The banging grew louder still. It sounded like somebody banging on her front door. She looked around, trying to see what time it was, but the room was too dark to see the clock that hung on the wall. It wasn’t morning yet, so it couldn’t be her mother causing the noise, so who was it? She found the light switch and twisted it on. The bright light was more than her weary eyes could take, so she dimmed it back down until she could only just make out the shapes of her furniture.

The banging was very loud by the time she made it to the hallway.

‘Okay, okay,’ she said in a raised voice. ‘I’m coming.’

The banging stopped, to suggest her voice had been heard. She fastened the safety chain on the front door and peered through the small peep hole in the door. The corridor beyond was brightly lit, as it always was, but there didn’t appear to be anyone outside.

Odd
, she thought.

The banging had definitely sounded like it was against the front door, and yet the outer hallway was empty. She began to wonder whether she had imagined it, or whether she was, in fact, still asleep. She peered through the peep hole again but the corridor remained empty.

Could it have been an animal of some sort,
she wondered.

Perhaps two neighbourhood cats had somehow got into the property and had been fighting outside the door, and the sound of Beth’s voice had startled them into scampering away.

She decided to open the door and to check that the remains of an injured cat hadn’t been left on the door mat. Checking that the security chain was still in place, she carefully opened the door.

She didn’t see the dark figure crouched down on the mat until it was too late.

He rose into view as the door started to creak open and by the time she realised anyone was there, a gloved hand had pushed through the gap in the door and a vice-like grip had extended around her exposed throat. The intruder’s free arm then connected with the main bulk of the door as he shoulder-barged it open, the security chain shredding wood as it was ripped from the door frame.

It happened in slow motion for Beth. The shock of the dark figure, causing the breath to catch in her throat, followed by the sudden force of leather-clad fingers squeezing hard around her neck, forcing her back as the door swung open. The man looked like something from a
Milk Tray
advert: dressed head to toe in black. She could easily have accepted it was
that
man, if it wasn’t for the bulging and manic eyes poking through two slits in the dark woollen balaclava that covered his face.

He maintained his grip on Beth’s throat as he gently pushed her backwards into the hallway, with little resistance. He pushed the door closed behind him. The security chain hung limply from the frame. The eyes returned to look at her and a gloved finger rose to the intruder’s lips as he indicated for her to remain quiet.

Beth had both of her more dainty hands on the one around her neck and she desperately tried to claw at the ever-tightening grip. It felt like he was trying to squeeze every ounce of air from her tiny body. She wanted to ask what he wanted, why he had chosen her, but she couldn’t utter the words. He started to raise his arm and she could feel the heels of her feet starting to rise: he was so strong.

She could smell stale tobacco, cheap cologne and whisky on his breath. She tried mouthing the words
stop
and
please
but he didn’t seem to care. Red and black spots started to float around in her vision like menacing bubbles.

Is this death
, she wondered.

Perhaps sensing her impending demise, the intruder released his grip and her body sank to the floor. She began inhaling as deeply as her lungs would allow and the dryness of her throat caused her to cough sharply. She was on all fours sucking the air back into her body and she started to tilt her head up to look at the man in black but as she looked up his black leather boot connected with her cheek, sending her sprawling. Her head rebounded off the wall and she crumpled onto her side. His boot kicked out again, at first striking her chest, then her bottom, then her legs, then back to her side. She instinctively rolled her body into a foetal-like ball to try and limit her exposed body parts, but he continued to kick out at her.

And then, just as soon as he had started, he stopped.

She remained as still as she could. Her whole body ached and it was impossible to tell which part hurt most or whether there was anywhere that didn’t hurt.

What does he want
?

She continued to keep her head buried close to her chest, desperate not to look at him again, out of fear that he might start his attack once more. The man’s legs moved away and towards the living room.

Oh God, Lauren
.

Beth rolled onto her back and, in spite of the discomfort; she attempted to stand, falling twice as she did. Her movement worked: it caught his attention. He returned to where she was crouching and spat, ‘Is there anyone else here?’

Beth’s mind searched for the best response: should she reveal Lauren’s whereabouts or not? If she did, would he leave quietly or would he then hurt Lauren as well?

‘I’m alone,’ she confirmed breathlessly.

‘No husband?’

‘No.’

‘No boyfriend?’

She knew he was close to her as that acrid breath had returned.

‘No.’

‘You better not be lying to me, bitch!’ he grimaced.

‘I’m alone,’ she said again, trying to sound more assertive.

‘Good.’

He started to move towards the living room again.

‘What do you want?’ she asked meekly.

He ignored the question and continued to walk.

‘Look,’ she tried to reason, finally standing, ‘I don’t have much; I’m pretty poor. Take what you want, just please don’t hit me again.’

He paused for a moment, before heading back in her direction. She prepared herself for a punch or a kick, but instead, he wrapped an arm around her neck and dragged her with him as he headed back towards the living room. She could feel his bicep under her chin: this was not a man she would be able to fight off.

He threw her to the floor as they entered the dimly lit room. He kicked her once more, in the chest. She let out an anguished cry, trying not to disturb Lauren in the room next door.

‘I’m in charge,’ he stated. ‘Do you understand? You will do what I want, or…well let’s just say, you won’t like me when I’m angry.’

‘Please, just take what you want. I won’t stop you.’

He reached out and grabbed her hair, lifting her to her feet. Beth’s hands tried to fight at his gloved hand again, but his grip was too strong. He pulled her close to his face and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek.

‘I won’t tell you again, bitch. I will
do
whatever I want;
take
whatever I desire.
I’m
in control here,
not
you, so shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you permanently.’

He released her hair, and once more she fell to the floor. She watched in silence as he moved across to a book case and looked at her photo frames. His fingers brushed against the frames, causing them to fall to the floor, smashing as they made contact.

‘Your daughter,’ he said, ‘where is she?’

Beth thought quickly, ‘She’s at my mum’s house. She stays there on Fridays because I have to work.’

The man’s eyes watched her for a moment, as if he was trying to decide if she was lying. She stared straight back at him. He continued to look through the contents of the book case and he pulled out a couple of the
Mills & Boone
books, discarding them on the floor with disdain. He surveyed the rest of the room, and deciding that there really wasn’t anything of particular value, he crouched down next to her once more.

‘Where do you keep your jewellery then?’

‘I don’t have any,’ she quickly replied.

He swung out a fist and connected with her jaw.

‘Don’t lie to me, bitch!’ he spat. ‘Pretty girl like you is bound to have jewellery.’

Beth’s eyes inadvertently darted to the bedroom door and she cursed herself the second it happened. He had spotted the glance as well and moved in that direction. She knew he would see Lauren the second he opened the door and she knew she had to stop him. She quickly clambered to her feet and charged towards the door, throwing her arms and legs out to barricade it.

‘Please,’ she said, ‘let me get it for you. It’s hidden under the bed and I don’t want you to trash the room trying to find it. Please? Let me get it for you.’

The man’s eyes narrowed through the balaclava, and then he grabbed her arms and flung her to the floor. Her head caught the edge of the coffee table as she went down. On her hands and knees, she felt him draw up behind her and she yelped as he grabbed at her hair and pulled her up. Then suddenly she felt something cold pushed against her throat. The object pushed harder and she felt a sharp pain as it broke the skin slightly.

‘What did I tell you?’ he whispered into her ear, before his tongue flicked out and caressed the lobe. She shuddered at the act.

The man removed the object from her neck and held it up in front of her eyes. The light overhead glistened off the four inch metallic blade.

‘Who’s in charge?’ he sneered.

‘You,’ she gulped.

‘Good,’ he added before releasing his grip and allowing her to flop back onto her palms. She put a hand up to her throat and saw a red smear on her fingers.

He’s going to kill me
.

The sound of a metal belt buckle being unfastened focused her mind. She turned and saw him watching her while he removed the black leather belt. It uncoiled through the loops of his trousers like a snake through grass. He gripped the belt in both hands and snapped it tight. The crack made her shiver.

‘You’ve been a bad girl,’ he sneered. ‘Someone needs to teach you how to behave properly.’

Her mind was flooded with thoughts about how he was going to
teach
her. In the struggle her nightie had torn and she felt so vulnerable watching him, waiting for what was to come. He cracked the belt once more and then, allowing it to slip from his left hand, he raised it over his head and whipped it down onto her exposed buttock. It cracked once more as it made contact and sent a searing, hot pain through her body. Before she had time to react he had brought the belt back down again, and again, and again. She could feel her flesh tearing each time the makeshift whip made contact with her body.

The man dropped the belt when he noticed that she was crying and no longer reacting to the thrashing.

‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ he offered quietly. ‘You gave me no choice.’

She didn’t react, uncertain whether her talking would lead to further punishment.

‘I’m sorry I made you cry,’ said the man. ‘Here,’ he added thrusting out a hand to help her up. She flinched away from the hand, expecting it to strike her. The man withdrew his hand and sat down on the sofa. He remained silent for a good minute while she whimpered near his feet.

‘Get up,’ he demanded eventually.

Beth wasn’t sure she could. The hot pain in her bottom was starting to subside but was being replaced by an equally sore ache. Although she was still on all fours, her arms were shaking as the adrenaline started to dissipate. She pushed back onto her feet and tentatively stood. The man watched her until she was fully upright and then he moved across and wiped the tears from one of her eyes with a gloved finger.