Abandoned (2 page)

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the young girl in the forest that was on his mind this morning. For some reason all he could think about is Mr Beattie, the farmer whose cow he patched up not too long ago. Mr James Beattie, to give him his full title — Jim to his friends. Charles decided in that moment that he would pay him a visit today on the premise that he just wants to see how the animal is recovering. In reality, he was intrigued to know how somebody who committed such terrible acts towards children could so easily forget the face of a child who had trusted him and his wife to take them in as their own during their time as foster carers.

However, his thoughts quickly turned back to the girl. He tuned into the news channel on TV and was met by the image of her on the screen. The headline read,
‘fears grow for missing schoolgirl’
. He turned up the volume to hear the reporter’s words.

‘I am standing here in the small town of Gretna, just on the Scottish border, where a community is in shock, praying for any news and the safe return of missing fifteen-year-old schoolgirl Lucy Mitchell after she disappeared late yesterday afternoon. She has not been seen or heard from since 5pm yesterday. Her parents and family are worried and are pleading for her to make contact and let them know she is safe.’

Then followed an emotional plea from her parents,
Susan and Thomas Mitchell. The father spoke, as the mother seemed too distraught.

‘Please, Lucy, if you are watching this and you are safe, please come home or let us know. We are not mad at you, we just want you home and to know you are ok.’

The camera was now back on the reporter.

‘It is not yet known whether Lucy has run away from home, either with a boyfriend or someone she knows, and it is far too early to speculate if the situation is something more macabre, but the community is out in full force searching the area for any sign of her, or clues to her whereabouts. If anyone has any information regarding Lucy, could you please contact the police and let them know. This is Jennifer Metcalfe, reporting live from Gretna.’

Charles’ thoughts now turned to sheer panic. What if somebody had seen him? What if he got caught? How would he explain this to his family? More importantly, what could he do about the girl? Then, as quickly as he had panicked, he remembered what he had learned in the army about staying calm under pressure, and carrying on under difficult conditions. He forced himself to relax and started to think other thoughts — darker, sinister thoughts. Fuck that little slag, she got what she deserved, the filthy little whore. Nobody is really going to grieve for that horrible little bitch, I’m doing the world a favour by taking sluts like that off the street!

He casually finished his coffee and proceeded to take his morning shower before getting dressed and preparing his daughters’ breakfast. Rebecca came into the kitchen ten minutes later and was met by the aroma of porridge cooking on the hob and the smell of bread being toasted.

‘Cup of tea, darling?’ he asked her.

‘I would love one, please. Why didn’t you wake me?’

Charles shrugged. ‘You just looked so peaceful sleeping, so I thought I would let you have a little longer this morning and prepare the girls’ breakfast myself.’

‘Ah, thank you very much, I feel much better for it, I
must’ve needed it after last night’s shenanigans, you big, hunky stud!’

She gave him a sly wink and a kiss on his cheek. This didn’t go unnoticed by the girls, who were now sat at the breakfast table.

‘Eurgh, gross!’ Molly exclaimed. ‘Get a room! I don’t want to think of my parents being lovey-dovey, it’s disgusting!’

Fiona, on the other hand, didn’t really understand what was going on. This didn’t stop her from jumping on the bandwagon anyway, trying to win respect from her older sister by copying her.

‘Yeah, get a room you two!’

Charles just gave Molly a stern glance and left the room to go get his coat and shoes. Saying goodbye, he then headed towards the door to leave.

‘Erm, aren’t you forgetting something, mister?’ Rebecca said huffily.

‘Oh! Sorry, love.’

Charles returned to give his wife a kiss goodbye and inform her he will be running late tonight, as he had important business to sort out at the practice. With that, he got into his Volvo SUV and proceeded to head off up their long driveway and out onto the main road.

***

The narrow roads were quiet at this time in the morning, except for the occasional logging wagon moving back and forward from nearby Kielder forest. As he drove through the remote villages and countryside, he couldn’t escape the image of the missing schoolgirl. A billboard outside a local shop clearly displayed the picture he had not long since seen on the news. This happened again as he passed through more villages. This was all a little bit too close to home for his liking — maybe he should have chosen his victim a little further afield. Ah well, it was a mistake he promised himself he wouldn’t make again anytime soon.

Charles arrived at the practice and was met by Linda, his receptionist, who handed him a pile of envelopes before quickly running through the day’s schedule. She needn’t have bothered; his mind was not on his workload — he had his own agenda. He asked Linda to transfer his schedule over to one of his colleagues, stating that he has too many follow-up jobs to attend to. All lies of course, but that’s the beauty of being the boss. Linda just agreed, and Charles retreated to his office.

The first thing he did was turn on the radio and tune into the local station CFM, desperate for more news on the girl — Lucy Mitchell. He hadn’t particularly wanted to know her name, as it made her more human. The girl was just a dirty little slut, worthless and expendable. Lucy Mitchell has a family, friends — she was their darling loved one. This made him think of Fiona and, to some extent, Molly, but he tried not to let the thought of that happening to them and how he would feel enter his mind. He had a plan, he just needed to put it into action.

After an hour or so of reviewing client files, he takes out of the medical storage unit some bandages, syringes and bottles of sedatives and anaesthetic. Placing them in his bag, he left his office and the practice, telling Linda he had to go out and probably won’t be back for the rest of the day. She thought this a little odd, but chose not to question him as he didn’t seem himself today. He got back into his car and decided to take a drive back out to Wigton to see Mr Beattie at Haywood farm.

***

Upon arrival at the farm, he was a little taken aback as Mr Beattie rushed over to greet him.

‘Hello, Mr Lee, what a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the honour of your visit?’

‘Er, it’s just a courtesy call, Mr Beattie, to see how the old girl is holding up since I was last here. I just thought I would call in as I was in the area and passing by.’

‘Well I’m so glad you did, come take a look at her
— she’s recovered remarkably well thanks to you, sir,’ the farmer said eagerly. ‘Less of the “Mr Beattie” please, would you? Friends call me Jim,’ he added.

Charles was still taken aback by Jim’s charm offensive. ‘Ok, Jim,’ he said weakly.

‘Can I get you a drink, Mr — er sorry, I didn’t catch your first name — Charles, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, it’s Charles, Jim. And a coffee would be great, thank you. Strong with sugar and milk please,’

‘No problem, Charles, follow me, old boy.’

With that, they headed into the farmhouse. Glancing around the old fashioned kitchen/dining room, Charles caught a glimpse of an old photo of Jim standing next to who Charles knew to be Mrs Edna Beattie, a woman he harboured mixed feelings for. He loved her because she’d been kind to him and had showed him affection; she would often patch him back up after heavy beatings and drunken gang rapes from Jim and his pals. However, he also hated her for the fact that she’d allowed this to happen to him and covered up for Jim when Charles, who was then named Jonathon, tried reporting him to his Social worker. They would both brush it off as though it was Jonathon who was the liar, because he didn’t want to adhere to their strict Christian beliefs and hardworking ethics. The truth was, even though she knew what was going on, she was just as afraid of her husband as Jonathon was but, unbeknown to Jonathon, his Social worker was a member of the same Masonic lodge as Mr Beattie, and would never knowingly betray the trust of one of his brothers, so the abuse was allowed to continue for a number of years.

‘So, do you live here alone then, Jim?’ Charles asked, trying to keep his feelings in check.

‘I’m afraid I do now, old chap,’ Jim responded. ‘Ever since the wife died from cancer a few years back, it’s just me and the cows now.’

‘I’m so sorry to hear that, Jim,’ Charles responded. ‘I’m sure she was a fine woman?’

‘The best.’

The two of them sat and drank their coffee, exchanging conversation in a warm, pleasant manner, but all the while Charles remembered just how good Jim was at this game, leading you into a false sense of security with his apparent friendly nature, all the while hiding a dark, sinister, vicious side. A side that Charles had seen far too often growing up. Upon finishing his drink, Charles politely thanked Jim for his hospitality, said goodbye, opened the back door and walked back to his car, managing to maintain and control both his hatred towards the man and the overwhelming urge to kill him in his own home. Charles knew this wasn’t the best situation, and would bide his time until the right moment presented itself. With that, he started his engine and drove out of the farm.

***

Charles could feel his heart racing as he drove back to Carlisle. With adrenaline surging through his body, his senses heightened and with revenge firmly set in his mind, he decided to bypass Carlisle and the practice altogether. Instead, he headed straight on and over the border as though he was heading home, although home couldn’t be further from his mind at this moment in time. He passed back through Newcastleton, again seeing the young brunette’s face all over the billboards. He continued on over the humpback bridge and, instead of turning left as he usually would, he went right up the quiet country road that led to Kielder water and forest park.

He parked his Volvo in a small, quiet layby, hidden away from the busy car parks used by visitors and locals alike, then reached over and grabbed the bag he’d prepared earlier. He then leant over to the glove compartment and removed his black leather driving gloves before exiting the vehicle, looking around nervously to ensure nobody was watching. With that, he jumped over a small broken-down fence and made his way into the thick, dense forestry that surrounded Northern Europe’s largest manmade lake. He knew the
forest well, due to him taking Tess, the family’s Border collie, on many a long walk through it. He’d specifically chosen this particular spot as no paths or mountain bike trails ran through it; this outer circle was home to nothing but wildlife for miles around.

He proceeded to trudge through four miles of dirt, moss and branches, becoming more and more excited as he did so. He noticed the November sky darkening and glanced at his watch: 4.28pm. A smug grin curled across his face; he knew there was no rush to get home after forewarning Rebecca he would be late that evening. He took his phone out of his pocket and switched it off, not wanting any distractions. He would savour every moment of what was to come.

An eerie silence fell upon Charles as he approached the site of the makeshift dungeon.

Charles loved the secluded environment — here, he was in his element; he was far more comfortable and at one with nature than he ever was with other people. As he got nearer, he could hear a faint whimpering coming from under all the debris and earth that was camouflaging the padlocked chains over the thick, heavy wooden roof he had carefully and painstakingly locked into place to ensure there would be no chance of escape. He removed the branches and leaves scattered over the entrance.

‘WHO’S THERE? PLEASE HELP ME, I’M TRAPPED DOWN HERE, SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!’

Ignoring the girl’s cries, Charles removed his keys from his pocket and unlocked the thick iron padlock, all the while scanning the area to be certain nobody else is around. He needn’t have worried, as darkness was now cloaking his actions and nobody in their right mind would want to be out here now and risk becoming lost in this thick terrain. He slowly raised the wooden cove. As the last rays of daylight fall down into the small, dark chamber, he could barely make out the shadowy silhouette sat cowering in the corner, knees locked tight into her chest. She seemed to be shaking and shivering — both due to the cold temperatures her barely clothed body had been
exposed to and due to sheer fear that had consumed her every thought for the past twenty-four hours. Her hands and feet were still bound with cable ties, while her fingers and hands were black from trying to tunnel her way out of the cold, hard winter earth, to no avail.

As he lifted the cover further, he noticed the pungent stench of ammonia filling his nostrils. Instead of having any sympathy for the young girl before him, another wry smile came upon his face at the thought of her having to sit in her own urine, and the degradation she’d been subjected to. This didn’t repulse him; instead it excited him. He felt a stirring in his loins as he contemplated the power and control he held over his vulnerable young victim. Again, he felt adrenaline race through his body — his palms sweaty, his senses intensified. With a steely determination fixed firmly in his mind, he climbed down into the pit, advancing towards the petrified figure before him.

The girl backed quickly away from him, pressing herself into the side of the dungeon. ‘WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? LEAVE ME ALONE! WHO ARE YOU?’

Charles remained silent.

Reaching out, he grabbed her by her tatty hair and lifted her to her feet. Suddenly and swiftly, he delivered a single left hook that connected with her right cheek. Stunned and trying to regain her senses, the girl struggled to get to her feet in a last-ditch attempt to attempt an escape. Her efforts were futile as he struck another blow to her face, then proceeded to kick her to the ribs as she lay in the dank, dark dirt. Blow upon blow came down upon her body as she curled into the foetal position, whimpering, desperate to remain conscious. She begged for him to stop, but again he continued, engulfed in a rage-driven frenzy, and beat her to a blood-soaked pulp. She finally passed out in a heap, a million miles away from anything she had ever known, with no support from family or friends, totally alone and vulnerable to this monster of a man — completely at his mercy.