The Dark Star - Aftermath Pt. 08

Chapter One; In Deep

Jackie Grayson paced the claustrophobic waiting room that she had been ushered into a little over an hour ago.

She pulled her long dark grey cardigan around her body. She was inappropriately dressed to be out in public, under any other circumstances. A mismatched white vest with green flowers printed on paired with purple tartan pyjama bottoms while on her feet she wore light blue Nike running shoes. She had dressed in a hurry.

The confusion of her mind as she replayed the frantic phone call received a little after two thirty, the call that had woke her from a foggy sleep that had been induced by the bottle of red wine she'd consumed with her microwave lasagne earlier on the quite Friday evening.

Considering that she sat in the bowels of City Central Police HQ she wasn't even sure she had even been legal to drive given the quantity of alcohol she had consumed, she hadn't questioned that matter though as she'd jumped into her SUV and driven at speed through suburbs into the City which was all but deserted by the time she'd arrived. She had driven at speed haunted by Daisy's tears and hectic, petrified unfinished sentences that had scared her, and that still scared her as she heard them over and over in her mind. Jackie's hands shook with a silent rage. What had she been doing there alone? She'd been supposed to have been staying at her friend Jennifer's. She trusted her, just as she had done in the past. She had not seen her since breakfast time the previous morning, perhaps there was a change of plans that explained everything.

Jackie had so many questions for Daisy none of which she'd been able to ask the emotionally, distressed teen when she'd found her huddled in the doorway of a convenience store at three in the morning. She drove her daughter straight here to Police HQ a building she knew well in a professional capacity, she had been emotional herself as she drove piecing together the nightmare scenario that her daughter had lived through, pieces of an ugly horrible scenario becoming clearer the more Daisy spoke on quick half sentences.

She didn't believe she had any idea of the full details, but she knew, the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach underlying her anxiety. Whatever the truth actually was Jackie knew it was bad.

Her attention snaps to the only door into or out of the room, as it slowly opened. A female police officer opened the door wide with a solemn expression etched across her face.

Daisy steps through the doorway, dressed in an ill-fitting light grey sweatshirt and matching bottoms. Her eyes red and heavy, fresh tears streaked her pale skin as her bottom lip quivers.

Jackie rushes to her, flings her arms around her daughter. Locking her into an embrace as they both break down consumed by their emotions.

"What have they done to you my baby .... what have they done?"

**********

Callaghan stood at the breakfast bar of the 'Manoir Spa Hotel' lost for choice in the plethora of food laid out across counter.

She was ravenous, she'd barely slept such had been the passion and the intensity of the hours that followed his late arrival to the suite. They had certainly made up for lost time she grinned to herself on a recollection of her moment of release, one of her moments of release.

She loaded up the large round plate she clutched with continental meats and cheeses, pausing to set down her plate and pour a long, tall glass of Cranberry juice. Her head pounding from the Champagne that had been repeatedly ordered on room service, until a little after 4am, the Champagne and the Cocaine that Andrew Baxter had cut on the bedside table between sessions of slow tenderness and furious intensity.

Crossing the restaurant in her figure-hugging tight denim jeans with a white bra under a white sheer blouse she watched him pouring a large mug of steaming coffee at their window seat. Dressed in dark denims and a fitted black polo shirt that complimented his physique.

The smile wiped from her face a little as she felt her phone beginning to vibrate in her rear pocket.

Callaghan set down her juice and plate of food on the table and fished the phone out. The number of her investigation unit scrolled across the screen.

"I'm sorry I've gotta..."

She hadn't finished her sentence by time she'd slid the screen open on the call. Andrew's subtle hand gesture indicating he wasn't offended by the intrusion.

"Callaghan" she answered brusquely.

"Ma'am it's Hook" she recognised the female officer's northern accent simply on the word Ma'am. "I appreciate you're on this weekend course and I wouldn't interrupt if it wasn't important but...."

"No no it's fine," Callaghan reassured "I'm only just grabbing breakfast... it's all fairly relaxed here."

"I think you'll want to come in Ma'am..." silently Callaghan cursed to herself at those words "...I'm just going through last night's activity logs.... there's a report of a sexual assault at a Club in Town."

"Go on," Callaghan pressed, her brow furrowing a little at the interruption but immediately concerned with the seriousness of the report.

"Ma'am the victim has ...in her statement she's mentioned a mask... a mask with a skull on it."

Callaghan barely had time to apologise to Andrew, as confused as his expression had been as she beat a hasty retreat from the breakfast room trying to sign language whilst taking in the scant details that Hook provided her.

She was packed up in no time, cramming clothing and lingerie into the black sports hold-all that served as her overnight bag. They were due to spend the day and the night, but somethings were far more important, far more critical. As sorry as she felt for the victim this could be the evidence the spark that reignited her flailing investigation. The consequence of the horrors of Stirchley Grange Mills moving into the City didn't bear thinking about. Tying her hair back into a ponytail she was at the door by the time he arrived back from his own abruptly finished breakfast.

"Everything alright?" he said as she squeezed past him.

Callaghan knew she shouldn't feel so elated not at some poor girl's expense.

"Yes... yes... "she hurriedly states accepting the croissant stuffed with cheese and ham that he'd prepared for her, the simple gesture making her pause "... I'm so sorry Andrew I'm so sorry."

He didn't cast her any look that said he didn't understand.

"A breakthrough..." she uttered "...finally a potential breakthrough in my case."

"Go" he smirked "Go serve and protect."

"You watch too many trash American Cop dramas," she teased him with a weak smile on opening the door.

"Tonight?" He offered trying to salvage something from the weekend he'd, they'd, been looking forward to.

"Yes... yes... I'll be in touch" but she knew full well she couldn't fully commit.

She felt terrible backing out the door hurriedly, taking the stairs rather than waiting for the lift, such was her haste. Hurrying across the main drive and car park, sand coloured gravel crunching under the heel of her tan boots, Callaghan answered her phone again while scrambling into the Car.

"Ma'am it's Hook again."

"I'm on my way... about half an hour out" Callaghan stated slipping the key into the ignition.

"Ok I've got more details. A DNA swab sample has been taken... with it being the weekend, they're not expecting results until early next week."

"I'll see what strings I can pull," Callaghan stated in immediate response without paying consideration to who could push such a process for her. She turned the key in the ignition.

"Even more alarming though Ma'am the victim was... "

As the car started the Bluetooth built into the dashboards entertainment system automatically took control of the phone temporarily cutting the call silent.

"Say again I lost you" Callaghan stated unravelling the paper napkin from around the croissant squashed in the grip of her left hand and laying it on the passenger's seat of the car.

Callaghan's hands rung tightly around her steering wheel as Hook repeated in full her previously interrupted statement.

**********

I stroll through the hotel reception casually taking in all around me.

"Afternoon Mister Macready," I hear as she passes me. I don't know how I've failed to spot her as I turn and meet the eye and beaming smile of Cheryl Williams, the charming and rather energetic receptionist of 'The Manoir'. "I didn't know you were staying with us this weekend."

I have to stop using so many pseudonyms at the same location is the first thought through my mind. "Impromptu... "I offer, "...very impromptu... I'm actually staying here on a friend's business account... Room 126."

"Well, you know it's always good to see you," she smirks, to anyone around us the conversation would seem innocent enough. No one else around us knows how less than innocent Cheryl Williams can easily be coerced to being once behind a closed door.

"As with you Cheryl," and my minds eyes imagines what I know she looks like out of that crisp over ironed uniform, "When does your shift finish?"

"Only just started I'm on until 10 tonight I'm afraid," she offers as she slips a very discreet wink at me knowing full well what's being implied.

"Unfortunately, l've prearranged plans for tonight" I state, "Ships in the night."

She doesn't linger but a sad little frown passes her lips as her attention is almost immediately sought by two elderly ladies, I catch her eye once again as she wanders away listening to their concerns.

A half an hour later I'm sat in the bar flicking through Hetti's private Instagram photos on my phone with a grin when I sense someone approach. I look up.

"Mister Macready" Cheryl Williams states efficiently "I'm very sorry to disturb you but you mentioned a problem with your room earlier ....do you think you could take me and show me?"

"I think that would be a very good idea."

I watch her ass and the back of her legs in opaque denier tights as she leads me through the main reception.

"I hope this isn't an inconvenience for you?" she states on a smile from ruby red lips as we enter the lift already occupied by two middle aged gents in Golf attire.

"Not at all." Already my mind on how I want those ruby red lips around my dick.

**********

Callaghan took a deep breath, looking up at her own reflection in the mirror.

To her left guilty looking over their shoulders two blonde girls hurriedly cut lines of cocaine on the screen of an iPhone while a third rolls a twenty note

All of them blissfully unaware of the Detective Inspector literally inches to their right.

Callaghan reapplies her own heavy lipstick before straightening her fringe, as best she can in the mirror. The wig she wears itching her scalp as it had been doing since she'd put it on.

'What the fuck are you doing Rose?' the unspoken thought passing through her mind as she once again meets her own reflection from behind heavily made-up eyes. She was out of her depth in the surroundings, she wasn't here in an official capacity, she had no rights and were she discovered to be conducting such clandestine observations it would be frowned upon by many of her colleagues, hence the need for the hastily cobbled together wig and makeup disguise. As she looked at her reflection the thought running through her mind was how foolish it was to be here at any time but 24 hours after an attack on a victim with strong undertones that could connect to her Stirchley Grange investigation had, maybe foolishly inspired her to find out first-hand what she could about the venue that nobody in City Central had seemingly had a good word to say about. Everyone had a dark opinion and yet not one crime report, serious or otherwise appeared to have ever been logged in connection to the venue. Her initial thoughts being that despite its notoriety and the opinion of everyone she'd spoken to it was not too dissimilar to any other night club in the City, not that she had visited many, but for that matter it wasn't that dissimilar to any night club that she'd been too in her past. The location was busy, a little too busy but personally she couldn't see the attraction or the reason for that.

The Dark Star, known as Servitu when she'd moved to the area, from the outside equally looked like any other Club in any other City. Inside it didn't appear too dissimilar aesthetically from anywhere else; there was a vibe though a carefree relaxed almost bohemian atmosphere, bohemian wasn't the right word that didn't capture the dark almost foreboding edge to the atmosphere. Security was very heavy she noted. Yet despite such a presence she couldn't dial down her always alert nature, her inner Copper, that under the noses of the Security team narcotic activity seemed to permeate the very fabric of the establishment. Daisy Grayson from the initial reports she'd read had, awaiting full blood test results, had unknowingly consumed drugs. The parallels in the report she'd read compared to Sophie McAllister's eerily similar, even if the locations were markedly different. She'd been at this Club to meet a friend, Jack Hughes. Hughes as Callaghan has subsequently discovered had recently become part owner of the Venue. Daisy recalls leaving Hughes, without providing detail of what they'd met to discuss, or engage in. What business the nightclub owner would have with the young girl wasn't that big a mystery, the obvious connotations sprung to mind, Daisy Grayson was after all an incredibly attractive girl. Having left Hughes, Daisy Grayson had little to no memories other than horrific snap shots of the remainder of her night. Such memory loss didn't ring true with the comparisons to Sophie McAllister; who'd remembered vividly the harrowing events that had transpired. Callaghan knew she shouldn't draw conclusions on such little evidence, but the memory loss triggered parallels with Mica Wise. The abuse locked within medieval restraint rung true for both girls, and the evidence they had collated from the basement rooms of the Mills.

Jack Hughes name was therefore at the top of her list of persons of interest. No police record, no known details on any systems. Seemingly a law-abiding citizen. There were plenty of those though, every criminal started with a clean slate and there were more than enough who through careful manipulation and planning could avoid the attention of the Law, for considerable periods of time, but never indefinitely. They always slipped up eventually.

Leaving the ladies toilets pushing through the queue that snaked through two internal doorways she stepped back into the noise and heat of the Club they had arrived at a little under an hour ago. Callaghan couldn't help wondering where Jack Hughes was this evening.

Andrew hadn't minded her suggestion of attending. Even seemingly he'd heard of the place and he didn't even live locally. It would be a different experience if nothing else he'd offered waiting in the short queue that had already formed at the door on their arrival, a little after Nine pm. Callaghan stepped forward heading to the bar where she'd left him. It had been so busy she didn't expect him to have made much headway. Surprised then to see him stood before her clutching a brandy for himself and her vodka lime and soda.

"You didn't waste your time" Callaghan stated over loud dance music that was certainly not to her taste.

"Pardon..." he offers looking at her confused "...Do I know you?"

"Funny," she fakes a sneer as he looks her up and down. The outfit the best she could find from a hurried Primark shopping trip 15 minutes before closing time. Other than her heels and her own leather jacket there was nothing she'd consider wearing again from the trashy ensemble.

"I like the black hair," he smirked.

"Claire's Accessories finest," Callaghan smiled and took a sip of the drink from her glass as she turned her head to the left to look out across the dance floor. The dance floor that seemed to offer barely an inch to move in. Fortunately, she wasn't one for such past times.

The wig had been her idea. She regretted it, not least for how physically uncomfortable it felt but she didn't want to be spotted, didn't want to run the risk of being recognised by anyone. She couldn't aspire to this being undercover. She held no jurisdiction if she wanted to. But she'd fulfilled her intrigue on the venue if nothing else.

He stepped up behind her wrapping his arms around her waist. "You don't look like you.... is it wrong to say I feel like I'm cheating on you with you?"

He wouldn't have seen but Callaghan grimaced at the mention of infidelity. Andrew Baxter was her dark secret, the reason she spent yet another night away from the company of her fiancé. She took a long swig of the drink before closing her eyes and literally swallowing her emotion. Turning in his grip to face him "And what makes you think you stand a chance with me?"

"A certain sense of confidence" he stated with a devilish grin "Which reminds me...."

"What?" Callaghan said suspicious of the grin now the glint of trouble in his eye.

"I did a little research on this place ...while I was left all on my own today."

"And?" Callaghan narrowed her eyes.

"And I booked us a private room."

"Why do we need a private room?" she exclaimed feeling a little off guard.

"Why do you think?" He states his hands slipping from her waist firmly over her ass.

"Oh, you're that confident, are you?"

He didn't need to answer his grin said it all.

**********

I watch as I wrap the final leather restraint around her fishnet clad ankle. I can feel the tension, the reticence in her body. Threading the buckle of the ankle restraints I slip the pin through the eyehole and fully restrain her slender body.

She'd fallen silent not long after I secured her left wrist. Watching me intently as I'd threaded an identical leather restraint over her right wrist.

Standing I step back and admire Rose Callaghan strapped face first against the St Andrews cross. The cheap looking short black skirt and sheer black mesh top along with her leather jacket lay on the dark carpet of private room number 3 of the Dark Star. Her head hangs low her body supported by the thick leather restraints that hold both wrists, her waist, thighs, and ankles strapped to the thick black wooden cross that's angled at a degree that holds her a little forward.

I take a deep breath, the silence in the room increases the intensity. The invading sound of the club beyond the floor to ceiling window provides a dull monotonous constant beat that soundproof insulation of all the rooms fails to truly drown out.

I walk around in front of her, she raises her head and looks at me from under the black straight fringe of the wig she wears.

"How do you feel?" I state softly.

"Trapped..." her immediate honest response, "...Exposed."

"Do you trust me?" I ask noting her previous responses.

She takes a deep breath as she looks into my eyes. Slowly she nods.

"Do you trust me?" I ask softly once again.

"I... I trust you," she states barely louder than a whisper after another considerable pause.

"I'll be gentle ...you're in control."

"It doesn't feel like it" she answers.

"What's your safe word?"

"Indigo."

"Indigo..." I reiterate, "...You only have to mutter that word on the faintest of whispers and you have my word I promise."

Once again, she coyly nods, her nervousness enthuses me, I feel my dick straining behind the fly of my jeans. Raising her head in my hand I lean forward and kiss her lips passionately, a kiss that for the briefest of moments is unreturned before I feel her tongue press against mine.

Breaking the kiss, I step back and walk around behind the cross, she breathes heavily her hands fidget, toying with the short chains bolted to the wooden frame that hold the cuffs.