The Dark Star - Aftermath Pt. 09

Rose Callaghan was a murderer now. The circumstances had altered dramatically for her, she was no longer implicated if her relationship to me became known, by her own hand, literally by her own hand Rose Callaghan had thrown herself deep into the quagmire. I could never have foreseen such circumstances.

As I strode through the abandoned Warehouse I consider again how if I doubted that the grip I held over Rose Callaghan, having revealed my true identity to her I was now convinced I held the ambitious but naive young Detective in the palm of my hand. Her ambition, herself importance, her naivety had been her undoing. She was now an accomplice to my plan; things had worked out perfectly.

Entering the dilapidated kitchen area at the rear of the building I disturb 2 rats who scurry into hidden crevices at the back of kitchen cupboards to the side of a fridge held closed with a padlock on a hinge.

My focus is not on the vermin but on the chest, freezer tucked up against the corner of the room, also held padlocked. From my keys I take a small brass key and slip it into the thick padlock. It's a little stiff as I turn the key in the lock. Removing the padlock, I raise the lid of the freezer. Looking into her open lifeless haunting blue eyes. I grimace. A thin layer of frosty ice covers her body wrapped in clear plastic.

"Morning Chloe... I need your help... one last time."

**********

Rose Callaghan rubbed her hands over the rope burns that scarred her slender wrists.

Watching him as he pulls back the sleeve of the boiler suit, he sports over his clothes and looks to his watch, it was fast approaching half past three she could tell from the dashboard clock and it would be growing dark soon. Snowflakes swept through the air settling on the windscreen.

"You understand?" he stated calmly.

She nodded as she looked over at him from her leather seat on the driver's side of the Mercedes. The car she'd only picked up yesterday, the car held that irreplaceable new car smell to it.

Ringing her leather clad gloves hands over the steering wheel tightly. Processing every detail of the plan he'd detailed to her, she keeps nodding.

"Tell me then," he states.

"I give you time to get far enough away...twenty minutes ... I make the call."

She shivered as she detailed her ultimate betrayal to everything she represented.

"I concentrate on him I don't give any more details over the phone."

"Good," he nodded.

"And when they get here?"

"I tell them... I tell them how when I arrived here, I couldn't find Parsons... I couldn't find Parsons, but I could find his car." Callaghan envisaged the scenario in her mind. "When I couldn't find him, I started looking around... I didn't see her she approached me from behind... ok lay briefly saw her face and that's the last I can remember."

"The last you can remember until?"

"I came to hung up by the wrists... cold and aching."

"Details... good," He smiled as he spoke.

"I managed to get my hands free I got out and that's when I found Steve," she shivered and her voice broke on the image ingrained in her mind of Steve Parsons falling backwards clutching his stomach, sliding down the wall of that container, the horror and pain in his eyes.

"She ...she came in...I ... I chased her I didn't think I just took off after her ... she must've panicked I don't know why."

"I'm believing you," Logan Hughes said as he looked her up and down.

"I don't know why but she headed up the stairs to the side of the containers at the side of the Warehouse...I followed her... I caught up with her and we struggled..."

"And then she fell," he completed her sentence for her.

"Who is she?" Callaghan had to ask.

"You need to dig out a file a cold case... the file on the murder of Logan Hughes."

Callaghan couldn't help but shake her head, how involved was he in all of this. Despite every assurance he'd made her, how much did he control everything around him just as he'd controlled the situation since he'd answered the frantic call, she'd made him several hours earlier. It didn't matter. Ultimately it didn't matter how involved he was as she was stood alongside him now in more ways than one.

"Who is she?" Callaghan found herself raising her voice.

"Chloe Macready," he softly stated while opening the passenger door and stepping out of the car. He paused to look back in her. "Stick to the story."

His callous assured nature reassured her it should have filled her with dread, with fear. Whoever he was he was assisting her, aiding her, ensuring she got away with murder.

"The knife..." she panicked "Where's the knife?"

"In the pocket of the overalls she wears... that knife links Her and Him to every murder in your investigation from Logan Hughes to Steven Parsons."

The use of Parsons name stirred her emotions. She knew instantly the 'Him' he referred to was Jack Hughes, the enormity of everything that she was embroiled in now swamped her fragile mind once again. She had to be strong she had to be resolute her tangled involvement now far far deeper than she could comprehend. She would be implicated, she would be investigated, she would face charges, face trial and face jail. She hated herself for what she was about to do, she knew it was the only course of action available to her.

He closed the passenger door on her, and she watched as he made his way across the open space between her car and his van. Heavy snow was really starting to fall now.

Callaghan looked to clock on the dashboard.

15:43; Minute one of twenty as she sat there trying not to think about what she'd done.

Trying not to think about what she was about to do.

Thinking of nothing else

**********

Pietro Arshsvin sat in the security office of the entrance to the North Channel Docks; he was cold. Cold and bored. Outside in the darkness snow fell heavily. There was nothing much to occupy his mind despite this being the most eventful day he'd known in this dead end of a job.

On the far side of the Docks the red and blue lights of emergency vehicles strobed. The whole area a hive of frantic activity in the aftermath of what had occurred around an hour ago. Outside the main gates two Police Officers sat preventing unauthorised entry or exit. He'd counted twelve police vehicles and three ambulances through the barriers that he'd left raised for them. They'd kept him away, turned him away when he'd approached the taped off area an hour or so earlier. Imploring this was nothing he could assist with. The first instance of note in two months of working here and even in a security capacity he could be of no assistance; such was the insignificance of his role.

Fuck it was cold. He was used to the cold weather having endured winters in the Ukraine before he moved here. In the Ukraine though they dealt with cold weather with more than a faulty electric heater which stunk of burnt dust.

His first instinct as the Police Squad Car pulled up was relief. Someone to break up the monotony. Something of interest, and perhaps he could finally be of assistance, have worth.

"PC Lee Baines," the officer introduced himself "I just have a few questions about your security cameras."

"This have something to do with Detective who was here this morning?" Pietro enquired.

"I can't comment," was the only response he received.

The Police Officer asked his questions regarding the security cameras and storage of data. This he could help with but knew full well his employer's cameras only gave limited coverage. The Officer seemed unperturbed thanking him for his assistance as he sat himself down at the main console that sat before the bank of screens that captured grainy images and recognised number plates of all the vehicles that came and went from the Docks.

"I was just going to make a Tea you want one?"

"I'd kill for one" Baines stated "...it's fucking freezing out there... and in here."

"I tell my boss ...he not interested" Pietro responded, "Says I should keep active to keep warm."

"I'm going to need to take the hard drive out" was Baines's response to his complaint, it was obvious he didn't care about his problems either.

"Whatever... whatever... you have permission yes?" Pietro Arshsavin said looking up from two stained mugs into which he flung two tea bags.

"Yes..." Baines replied "...Yes I've permission."

*********

I sit in the booth of a quiet little bar contemplating everything I've done.

Everything that's occurred and everything that now needs to occur.

Mentally assured that despite the panic of the situation Id become immersed in on the back of the frantic phone call I'd received while appreciating my second coffee of the morning, despite that panic I was convinced every angle had been meticulously covered off by my swift actions.

Chloe's body concerned me, in the freezing temperatures I had no fucking idea how long it would take for her body to have reached the same ambient temperature, the effect that the bitter winters day would have on the process, I wasn't sure if it aided or assisted me. I take a swig of my Brandy thinking of the perversely dark scenario of her body lay out across the floor of the kitchen area, oven door wide open with the oven on full power, two pathetic fan heaters positioned either side of her body. My mind darkly taking me to a desperate need to defrost a Christmas Day Turkey. Defrosting her frozen blood in a microwave, defrosting it to pour across the concrete beneath where I'd eventually laid her, I shake my head, defrosting blood in a microwave had certainly been a first. The temperature was dropping outside now but was dropping nowhere near to the minus ten that had preserved Chloe's body for the last six months. I could only hope the two temperatures would meet somewhere in the middle.

The scene I'd created looked natural enough, fitting the scenario I'd contrived for Rose Callaghan. Dragging Chloe now, perhaps rightly so given her vicious murderous streak, into focus. Chloe's fingerprints were already on the hilt of the knife, it would only have been a matter of time, having surrendered the knife to Callaghan before Chloe had been implicated. The knife that Chloe had used on so many others, the knife that in turn Callaghan had almost inexplicably used on her colleague.

Throwing Chloe into the melting pot was also another means of ensuring Callaghan or more than likely her team now tighten their grip around Jack and finally bring damning charges against him, I had little doubt he'd be free of custody now.

Defrosting blondes' sociopaths aside, and alongside of having arranged for PC Lee Baines to collect and destroy the facilities managements CCTV and ANPR records so much of the success of the hastily formulated plan was now dependent on the composure and stability of Detective Inspector Rose Callaghan. Her self-preservation being her greatest motivator. Her ability to lie and convincingly deceive all those around her was now crucial. I trusted her, she was more than capable and highly motivated. I could never have foreseen such circumstance, but the situation only added further strings to the puppet I'd been playing since the first moment I'd met her.

I was confident the place was physically clean enough, I'd kept my movements limited and essential, going so far as to trash the kitchen and leave remnants of stale months old food all over in order to let the rats cause their own havoc and contamination. The Docks having been barely used in months, I'd pretty much avoided them since Chloe's passing, not through any guilt in so much as in the interim they had served very little purpose, I was sure that there was very little else of overly incriminating, fresh evidence that would be damning to myself. The Docks had been left behind as my plans played out The Dark Star had become centre of the legal and illegal operations that now funded my increasingly healthy and once again growing bank account. My retirement fund.

Too quickly though had I been sucked back into the trappings and the lifestyle I'd promised myself I would avoid. And far too quickly I was making mistakes being careless. Taking far too many risks. Even being here in this bar out in public ran the risk of someone, anyone recognising me. The thrill and the euphoria of being able to slip back even into the shadows of society had captivated me. I couldn't afford to be this stupid I couldn't afford to take these risks. It was time, sooner than I'd planned but it was time to move on time to turn my back on everything, this time fully in control and completely on my terms.

As I sip once again from the Brandy my eye is instantly caught by the attractive dark-haired women who steps in from the bleak winter's night. Flakes of snow cling to her jacket as she lets down an umbrella. She waves with a smile and for the very briefest of moments I nearly wave back but I know I don't recognise her and then a male with his back to me in the opposing booth stands as she walks towards him. They exchange continental style kisses as she slips her coat off of her shoulders to reveal a tight black satin blouse and black pencil skirt that sits just above her knee. "Jackie, how are you?"

I recognise his voice; I then recognise his frame even from behind. The comb over grey hair. How long has he been sat there while I've been sat here? Dr. Stephen Myler the Psychiatrist I'd once visited, if only a handful of occasions. Even as I'm sat there, I'm trying desperately to recall the name of his delightful little receptionist whose company I'd had the pleasure of on several occasions. They both sit at the low backed booth and I can't help but keep my gaze from her as she straightens her appearance a little and takes the glass of red wine sat waiting for her on the table. You've done well for yourself there Myler I consider. Definitely punching above your weight.

I can't hear every word they say. I don't sit there and eavesdrop but catch her saying "...As well as can be expected...she's gone to stay with her Dad for a few days at the moment."

"You know that we've a fully stocked bar with any drink you want, don't you?" Jamie stated slipping into the booth on the opposite side of the table from me, I'd been distracted and not seen her approach, further evidence of my sloppiness.

"I do" I look up at her, hair wet and slightly dishevelled, her leather jacket dotted with melted snowflakes. She hadn't been as prepared as the dark-haired woman sat with Myler.

"Had a good day?" Jamie cheerfully enquires.

"You wouldn't believe the half of it if I told you" I answer honestly.

"So why here?" Jamie enquires slipping out of her jacket to reveal a tight white capped sleeve T-shirt before I can answer her, she's switched the subject "Fuck this weather makes you long for somewhere like Australia."

"I can think of more exotic locations where nothing tries to eat you," I smirk at her.

"There's more to Oz than dangerous animals," she takes my bait playfully.

"Fuck me Jamie even them cute little Koala fuckers are riddled with Chlamydia."

"I didn't know you'd been... and I know you'd fuck anything... but c'mon Logan a Koala?" She takes the piss and I let her.

Attentively a bar maid steps to the table and places a cold glass of Sauvignon Blanc before her and a generous Brandy before me from a tray.

"So, how are the two of you?" She states with a pleasant smile.

"As ever I'm ...well I'm me" I answer with a wink.

"Em... Emily?" I look over at Jamie who's looked up and recognised the former Dark Star employee. "Oh my god, how are you?"

"I'm good thanks Jamie ... it's been a while."

"Few years..." Jamie says before repeating "... a few years."

"And I knew you'd be doing alright... like a cat always landing on its feet," she smirks an innocent little smirk that says more than words. I simply nod.

Emily makes her apologies silently looking over to a fairly busy bar before heading away.

"I ...I thought" Jamie utters shocked while following Emily with her eyes before turning back to me.

"Let's just say finding her kept me positively active after everything went wrong."

"Why did you never say anything?" Jamie enquires.

I simply shake my head and hunch my shoulders.

"You continually surprise me Logan Hughes... you're not the monster some might think you are."

"Possibly not ... but it just demonstrates that my past is everywhere, and my present will be catching up with me soon...so, that's why I'm leaving."

As we sit there and I outline to Jamie my thought process and plans, her expression isn't one of judgement or surprise but it's pensive none the less. She hears me out, she listens with more sincerity and understanding than the psychologist behind her would probably have done. She knows I could handle criticism, would pay any advice she were to offer the attention it would deserve. Jamie knows me, there are very few secrets between me and her, she's a trusted confident, a good friend, and an occasional very naughty little fuck. Her hands reach across the table to mine.

"You have to do what's best for you" she says squeezing my hands in hers before finishing her wine. I spot that she looks discreetly to her watch.

"We should get going... I've got a club to run."

"If you'll forgive me, I might stay for one more... you gotta get used to flying solo," I grin.

"Stay away from the barmaid then" she states fixing me belatedly with her own grin.

"She's safe" I state in all sincerity as Jamie walks away heading for the main doors.

Looking up I meet the gaze of the black-haired woman who Stephen Myler has briefly left alone, a quick glance over and I spot him dithering at the bar.

I catch her eye again and grin.

She flashes me back a smile.

**********

Her back arched as he claimed her, she pants and groans her arms outstretched against the headboard of the bed as she pushes her body down onto his

Knelt between her spread legs he takes her naked body; his hands grip her hips as he fucks her hard fast and deep. And assured dominance he'd displayed thorough. Her neck cranes back on a silent gasp of pleasure that passes her lips.

His hips rock back and forth, and she feels her body tense herself around him as she feels the orgasm rip through her body.

As she clenches and wraps her legs tightly around his waist, she feels the simple act goad him, he's held off, waited for her satisfaction, gains her my climax and after the long-drawn-out fuck that's alternated in intensity, she feels him cum as she's stretched out beneath him. She trembles in his grip as she feels him ejaculate.

Jackie Grayson dropped her head down onto the pillow sweat coating her body, she's physically exhausted. She lowers her raised hips to the bed beneath her as she feels him still deep inside her. His hands clench around her wrists, her arms held now extended above her as she is held in the playful grip. The playful to match the far more physical grip he'd held while he'd masterfully, dominantly fucked her.

The second fuck of the night, the first time from behind had almost been befitting of her submission to the handsome stranger. Now as she recovered from the second fuck she looked up into his dark brooding mysterious eyes. Trying not to wonder what story's they could tell, trying not to psychoanalyse him.

She'd only been meeting her old colleague, Stephen Myler, for a couple of social drinks.

A couple of social drinks that had been a couple more in his company once Myler had finally left.

This wasn't her this wasn't her normal style, the drink had aided but she'd known what she was doing, she wanted the attention, she craved something of the normality of the situation.

He let go of her arms and she stretched herself out while feeling him slip from her aching body, the dull satisfying ache causing her to near purr from his attention.