The Dark Star - Aftermath Pt. 04

Chapter One; Moving On

Detective Inspector Rose Callaghan stood up from behind her desk. Scraping her light brown hair up behind the back of her head as she tied the elastic hair band tightly through her hair. Rolling her neck, she felt the tension of the day through her shoulders and ache down her spine.

She was tired she hadn't eaten all day and had undertaken an eight-mile run at half six this morning. Turning the back of her wrist to face her she sighed noting that the time was already a little after ten past nine. Outside her office every desk in the larger open plan office for her team sat empty, screens powered down. Lack of commitment she pondered or an example of common sense.

Her meeting from earlier in the day with Bernadette Wise was still troubling her though; the conviction in that woman's voice, the tears in her eyes as she'd recounted, no doubt for the thousandth time how her daughter following a night out had simply vanished, seemingly into thin air. Both Uniform Officers and Detectives at the time had carried out thorough if cursory routine enquiries. Her mobile had last been triangulated to a property on the far side of town. A property well known to uniform that belonged to a Mr. Gurpreet Patel, an Indian Landlord who had no knowledge and no idea that the property he was letting out through a local agency was regularly being used to host large gatherings, come parties every Friday and Saturday night. Patel has been long ruled out of the investigation, an innocent victim himself not least given he'd been living in Delhi for the last nine months. Callaghan had seen the photos, his house had been trashed, ransacked, as if a swarm of locusts had torn through and stripped the residence. More to the point no one individual was seemingly connected to the lease of 57 Immingham Rise so that a leaseholder could be questioned let alone held culpable of who or what was connected to the property. This oversight thanks to a seeming lack of a process at Graves and Freeman, the letting agency, where there had been shockingly insufficient background checks and no reliable records to capture exactly who the property had been let to for the sum of twelve hundred and fifty pounds a month back in August of last year. Documentation had all been signed in the name of a Mr. James Wolf, who's list of references not surprising held no credence, Wolf's no doubt fake signature being the only one on the paperwork, despite the tenancy agreed for six rooms in what was supposed to be the shared residence property.

The regular complaints of noise and anti-social behaviour from the neighbours hadn't been enough to warrant anything beyond acceptance of being a regular nuisance call out to her colleagues in Uniform. Occasionally a squad car was sent to attend the property in cursory response to the neighbours' complaints; this despite the frequency of received complaints and the recognised growing reputation around the address. Bottom line was Uniform Police were massively understaffed, noisy private parties didn't warrant their attention. Students just doing what Students did, being noisy, getting out their minds and having no consideration for anyone else. Best to let them get on with it was undoubtedly the stance taken. Only now did the matters not seem trivial, only now when noise and drug complaints paled into insignificance when the property related to a Missing Persons Investigation.

Similar to any check on the background of the tenants at the property the profile of the Tinder date Mica Wise had been on shed no light. Three images against a name of Alex Russell. A name that yielded no results when it had been cross referenced against the photos and their database. The photos must have been accurate for Mica Wise to have met, on at least three known occasions, with the man she believed to be Alex Russell. The salubrious nature of online dating Callaghan thought to herself. The platforms mixed the desperation of singletons to the hope of genuine relationships but matching them more often than not for quick hook ups, one-night stands and the opportunity of infidelity. To this day Callaghan could not understand how anyone could put any faith or trust in essentially a mobile app that could be signed up to in a matter of minutes without any formal identity check or verification.

The file on her desk detailed every message sent between Mica and Alex Russell through the App. He'd been the first to make contact with her. His messages a blend of charm and humour that had led to a rendezvous at a presumed to be safe public location, given the unofficial etiquette of such meets arranged online, the local Nando's was in Callaghan's opinion hardly a romantic first date location. Following a string of initial messages all communication seemed to have switched infuriatingly to WhatsApp messages. Infuriating because despite the ongoing investigation into Mica's disappearance the company, a subsidiary of Facebook, refused to assist any Police Investigation by sharing the content of secure messages. In the absence of a mobile phone to physically unlock to access such messages it was in Callaghan's opinion tantamount to negligence on behalf of such a huge organisation that they could knowingly withhold details that could prove to be vital information.

Tinder and more importantly Alex Russell, whatever his true identity, did though provide a known link to the second file on her desk. Callaghan picked up a black and white photo of local schoolteacher, Leah Davis. Leah had been reported missing by her best friend Leon Mackenzie five days after a Tinder date with an Alex Russell. Five days, some friend. CCTV of the night in question from both the 'Lune Bleue' restaurant and her apartment block showed the couple engaged in a seemingly relaxed convivial atmosphere. A little after ten thirty they'd caught a taxi which had dropped Leah Davis home. Again, CCTV clearly showed this to be the case. ANPR cameras had tracked the Taxi to a block of flats in the Docks where the Taxi Driver confirmed he'd dropped the man alleging to be Alex Russell a little before eleven o'clock. The Driver when interviewed, some eight weeks later, hadn't recalled the fare let alone anything remarkable as the witness statement recorded. Needless to say, there was no record of an Alex Russell at the address he'd been dropped at and the concierge team at the exclusive address had no knowledge of a visitor or resident matching Russell's description. Shadows had been chased from day one of the disappearance of Leah Davis.

At some point between ten thirty on that Saturday evening and the following Thursday the 23rd of November Leah Davis had simply, inexplicably disappeared. The last known sighting matching the last known triangulation of her mobile phone, the time stamp a matter of minutes apart. Two to be precise. Her mobile had been found in a lift at her own apartment block, featuring in a 'Lost' notice pinned to the residents notice board in the foyer where she lived. A neighbour had kept the phone safe until Uniform had applied a little common sense.

Who was Alex Russell was Callaghan's big question? He being the one man who linked these two seemingly unconnected young women. Despite numerous appeals and floating his photo via local and national channels no information had been forthcoming. The man was an enigma to them, a ghost himself with the ability to disappear.

The final file on Callaghan's desk was for that of Alison Hughes, an engaged Sales consultant from the Cosmetics and Perfume department of Graysons the City Centre department store. Alison had gone missing on the way home from work on the evening prior to Mica Wise's reported disappearance. Alison Hughes fiancé had reported her missing within hours of her not returning home. His alibi was watertight, despite the inevitable cross-reference that had been undertaken. Callaghan had watched the video of his interviews, not a single doubt in her mind that he was innocent as he sobbed into his hands throughout.

The date and the relative location in the same City that Alison Hughes was headed were the only tentative connection to either Mica Wise or Leah Davis disappearance. And it was tentative at best. Callaghan should know better than to rely on hunches, which never rang true. Her career to date rather than her training led her to know better, despite every base instinct, something and she had no idea what seemed to link Alison Hughes to her investigation. If only for the fact that like Leah and Mica she was an incredibly attractive young woman. Brown hair, brown eyes, on a rudimentary level was that Alex Russel's thing, his preference?

There was no need for Alison Hughes an otherwise happy, content, engaged to be married woman to just inexplicably vanish. It could be no coincidence that she disappeared at the same time as two other women from the same City.

Detective Inspector Rose Callaghan knew the truth about these girls was out there. She feared, as was rumoured, the potential of a serial killer but in the lack of clear verifiable evidence she knew to avoid such scaremongering and speculation. Equally there had been no subsequently reported disappearances, not locally at least, for six whole months.

Callaghan sat back down at her desk. The photos of the three girls stared up at her, haunting her but equally perversely taunting her. She rubbed her fingers over her temples.

She should go home. She could go home but she wouldn't rest, she wouldn't switch off. Not properly. Not until she knew the truth.

**********

Things were going great.

Sat there on the sofa I watch the television as Sarah lays across my chest. The familiar pose for not just a Friday evening but near enough every evening of the week.

Sat between us and the TV on the coffee table teasing me is a slightly ajar Pizza box which I know contains a half-eaten chicken, bacon, sweet corn BBQ base thin crust Pizza. I near salivate but I don't move as I don't want to disturb Sarah. I'm content enough I figure, a fourth slice, despite the hunger pangs could be considered unhealthy. Although the Carbs might be a worthy investment. I need every bit of energy for the whirlwind who's sound asleep in the single bed upstairs. Young Grace.

Bernadette had dropped her off just after I'd gotten home from work. Another week of selling online advertising in a stuffy little call centre. It paid well though and somehow, with no prior experience I was excelling. Doubling my weekly wage with commission payments. I'd only been there three months but already promotion was being discussed. Jack Hughes, Desk Based Regional Sales Manager; the job title sounded a little ugly, but the associated pay rise sounded very attractive.

I genuinely looked forward to my time with Grace though, she'd been so excited going to bed earlier on the promise of a trip to the Zoo tomorrow. The hour before bed spent conscientiously scribbling pictures of all the animals she wanted to see; I'd had to break it very gently to her though that they had no Unicorns at this particular Zoo.

With the turmoil in her little life, I'd embraced the opportunity to spend every other weekend with her. Sarah had also been great, understanding the situation and not questioning the disruption that could have been caused. I'd told her everything from the outset. Although the truth of Grace's parentage I still kept a mystery, a mystery that could so easily be solved but would cause deeper divides than anyone could possibly imagine. Divides that were not needed at the moment. Either as my little half-sister or as my daughter, she still called me Daddy and I had committed to being there for her. Not least since Mica had disappeared.

Mica's disappearance had broadsided me as much as anyone else. I'd had no idea that Mica was involved with or knew Spider. Or vice-versa, in fact I still struggled to believe that Spider would keep such a fact a secret from me. He's cunty personality would surely have rammed the fact down my throat at every opportunity at the time. He couldn't have sat on such an opportunity to gloat. Seeing his picture as a person of interest had filled me with dread the minute, I'd seen it in a newspaper article regarding Mica's disappearance. I'd lied to Bernadette when she asked me if I knew who he was. "He's out there somewhere" she said "Someone will spot him someone will find him" she confidently predicted.

I know different. Knowing full well what fate had befallen Spider. I knew they might recognise him, but I knew they'd never likely find him. In killing Spider had I unwittingly destroyed any chance of discovering Mica's own fate, it troubled me that with his demise, the truth of what had happened to Mica had been lost. I felt sick if I stopped to think of it; I could only pray she hadn't met the same, or worse fate than had befallen Lyndsay and Sarah before her at his hand. I was only fooling myself. Lying to myself just as ultimately, I was lying to myself and Sarah about another ugly truth.

I didn't know enough about the evil of those little blue pills that had floated around during a time which I'd now turned my back on and taken conscious steps to move on from. I knew that for most the effects of taking the pills were enhanced physical sensation, but the cost was depleted memory or complete memory loss, while for others the elation was felt alongside of crystal-clear memory of events that transpired while under the influence. Lyndsay and Sarah must've have been at polar opposites of that spectrum.

It felt immoral knowing what I knew about that night and Sarah, who'd been brought to the House Party by Spiders friend Chris. So much of my life from back then felt immoral. So much was immoral. I could move on, but I could never move away. Just as I knew I could never discuss the matter with Sarah.

In truth it wasn't beyond comprehension that I could at least attempt to find out what had happened with Spider, or if anyone knew about his involvement with Mica within a matter of phone calls. The reason I didn't, the reason I couldn't was that doing so would drag me straight back in to that world. I couldn't risk that, and the implications associated to it. I'd moved on from that life, stepped consciously away. I'd buried that past and given what I'd done there was no way I'd be drawn back in. My past haunted me.

I couldn't bring myself to think of what I'd truly done.

Not for the first time so much had changed, my life hitting the reset button when I met Sarah, on that same dark night. I'd not seen Tubs, Harry and the boys in ages. I'd heard through his Social Media, the source of all gossips these days, that Tubs and Lyndsay had split. I didn't know the full story and felt bad that her and I had literally dropped off a cliff; apparently, she hadn't come back to Uni after Christmas though and she had ditched Tubs via a text message. And they say guys are shits.

Bizarrely I still received payments to my bank account following every Phoenix event. Substantial payments which I kept hidden away. From the one event I'd been involved with I had seen nearly three thousand pounds drop into my account. In the intervening six months, there had been two more events since that had deposited a combined thirteen thousand and two hundred pounds. Someone had messed up and I wasn't willing to let them know. Tainted money was still money and if someone hadn't thought to take my name off the payroll who was I to complain.

Sarah stirs sitting up from my chest with a stretch.

"I'm so tired I might head up" I watch her get up off the sofa as I lean forward and slip the slice of the Pizza, I've been denying myself from the box.

"No worries" I reply taking a bite of the cold dry slice.

Her blonde hair frames her face as she leans forward and kisses my forehead. My hand runs up the back of her toned right thigh, clad in a pair of Lycra leggings, as she does so.

"I've been meaning to say..." she offers with a grin "Did you know there's a Phoenix Party next Friday?"

My blood freezes and I find myself instantly lying "No I didn't".

"I just thought..." the smirk becoming a cheeky grin now across Sarah's face "... a proper Friday night doesn't harm once in a while does it?"

If she knew the truth she wouldn't ask. It's not her fault.

"I doubt we'd get tickets this late," I offer with a certain sincerity.

"We could try?" She persists "We don't want all work and no play making Jack a dull boy, do we?"

"Let's see" I concede a little feeling a pang of paranoia at her last remark.

"What's a Phoenix Party?"

Sophie, Sarah's younger sister contributes from the seat in which she's curled up in over on the far side of the room. Despite being just turned eighteen years old she's a miniature version of Sarah I often think. The family trait for long blonde hair certainly contributes to that illusion. Although at times she shows signs of lacking a little maturity and level of wisdom as Sarah.

"A Phoenix event is not something you need to be concerned about ...stay away" Sarah points a finger towards her sister with a smile. "You staying the night Soph?"

"If you don't mind" Sophie answers.

"Fine by me but we're up and out early with Grace" Sarah says from the doorway of the lounge.

"And you're not having any more of my Pizza" I smirk at Sophie as I take another bite of the slice in my hand.

**********

Song Akiyama cried out in unbelievable pain.

Tears ran down her cheeks as she lay there mortified, scared to move against the brutal pain that coursed through her upper body.

Song felt him between her legs, mentally she'd shut down, as she'd had so many times in the past. Too many times to recall.

She looked up past that all too familiar black mask daubed with a menacing white skull. An image which haunted her every waking moment and flooded her broken sleep with nightmares.

She felt his climax, felt his release deep in her unprotected body. She near welcomed the sensation. Her torment would soon be over.

Raising her head up from the thick wooden beam he'd restrained her on Song winced with the constant excruciating pain.

"Let me go..." she quietly begged, "...Please Wolf let me go."

Fresh tears ran down her cheeks. As she looked across the barbed wire that he'd wrapped around the beam and around her stomach, chest and upper arms, the ivory-coloured satin slip she'd been dressed in was torn and stained scarlet from the cuts and puncture wounds which covered her body. She stared down across her broken body as he let go of the backs of her thighs. Song refused to believe what she saw was real; despite the excruciating pain even her exhausted heavy breathing brought to her frail body.

"You've never embraced your circumstance, have you?" the vile being they all knew as The Wolf spoke with cold callous words as she lay there. "Not like the others."

He pulled a T-Shirt over his upper body as he hitched his jeans back up onto his waist.

"That's why your time here is coming to an end... no point keeping girls here who don't want to be here."

Songs mind flooded with a thousand questions.

"What ... what you ... what you mean?"

He raised a finger to his own lips,

"Better that I show you Song."

As he pulled on heavy gloves Song watched him approach her clutching a pair of wire cutters. Tensing feeling the bite of the sharp wire that held her Song grimaced and whimpered with each clinical cut of the wire which held her to the wooden beam. The pain as he took his time to cut and peel away the wire embedded into her skin threatened to overwhelm her. Song steeled herself digging deep into mental reserves and refused to show him any significant weakness.

Mercifully free from the wire which lay now cut and strewn around the floor of the dark damp room in which she found herself he released the restraints that held her wrists to the beam at her side and that held tightly strapped over her slender waist and neck.