Snatched From Home: What Would You Do To Save Your Children? (DI Harry Evans Book 1) (12 page)

Elsewhere in the station, Campbell was sitting at a desk going through the lists of suppliers for each of the burglarised premises. As he always did, he arranged the information in front of him into a timeline and tried to find a pattern between events.

Lauren was busy on the phone, double checking with the various license holders about the service providers who were on the lists of premises other than theirs. It was a menial task, but important, in case someone had missed a supplier off their list when questioned. Her flirtatious tone told him she was speaking to a man.

Chisholm was tapping away at his keyboard. The printer beside him spitting occasional documents out with a clattering whirr.

‘I’ve spoken to them all, sir. Apart from the guy at Jumpers. He’s gone on holiday for a fortnight.’

‘Holiday? After the place he runs has just been turned over. Did you get the details of where he’s going?’

‘Of course I did.’ Lauren bristled at Campbell’s unspoken accusation. ‘He’s gone to Tenerife for a fortnight. Apparently he booked the time off months ago. It was a relief manager I spoke to. He wasn’t happy about having to pick up the reins after the place had been robbed. “Pissed off” would be the words I’d use to describe him.’

‘Are there any other members of staff worth speaking to?’

‘They are all temporary staff. Mostly Eastern Europeans from what I could gather.’

‘What about the parent company then? Someone there will know which suppliers they have.’

‘I’ve got an email address for their accounts department. I’m gonna send a request off for a full list of suppliers before I go.’

‘Go?’ A look at his watch made Campbell realise he’d lost track of time as he’d read and reread the lists on his desk.

‘Yes, I’ve got a date tonight.’

‘OK then. Do that and get yourself away.’

Campbell wanted to get back to his wife, but the urge to beat Evans to the solution, thus proving his ability to manage this oddball group, made him stay at his desk.

When Lauren got up to leave, Chisholm grunted a goodbye without bothering to take his eyes off the screen in front of him. That, coupled with the fact Bhaki had not returned from his visits yet, told him that the team were dedicated to their jobs and weren’t the clock-watchers he was used to. Something told him that he would make allowances for Lauren and that nobody would complain. She’d been wearing a mini-dress that had given him flashes of stocking tops whenever she crossed or uncrossed her legs, actions she did on a regular basis.

A text message came in from Sarah asking what time he’d be home. Checking his watch, he tapped out a reply telling her he’d be home by seven. He knew she wouldn’t be happy, but he’d explained the importance of him to make a good impression on both his team and his new superiors.

Returning his attention to the papers on his desk, he tried to clear his mind of the details already ingrained in the hope of gaining a fresh perspective.

The new tactic was starting to frustrate him when his mobile shrilled. Sarah’s name and a picture of her bump decorated the screen.

As soon as he thumbed the phone, he started to speak, intending to head her complaints off before they reached the pass. ‘Hi, I’ll be home by seven. I promise.’

‘John. The baby’s coming—’

‘I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ Campbell was halfway across the office before she finished the sentence.

Running through the station, he made it outside in record time. Fumbling keys from his pocket, he pressed the blipper to unlock the doors of his Mondeo before he even reached it.

As he twisted the keys in the ignition, the enormity of the situation hit him a devastating broadside. He was going to be a father. His son would soon be born. No longer would he and Sarah be a couple. Instead they would be parents. Tutors in life. Guardians of morality and well being.

Holding his breath deep, he exhaled to calm himself. His hands shook as he released the handbrake and engaged first gear.

Throwing herself forward, Samantha ran towards the open window intent on diving through it. Towards the police car which had driven into the farmyard. Towards rescue. Towards freedom. A scream burst from her mouth as she tried to attract the attention of the car’s passengers.

She was six feet from the when she felt a muscled arm coil around her body, slowing her momentum. A second arm joined the first as Blair tackled her to the ground. Her face colliding with a pair of boots left beside the couch.

His weight pinned her down, a hand clamped itself over her mouth. His stinking fingers polluted her nose as she tried to wriggle free. Trapped by his fat body, face down on the disgusting carpet, she struggled to get enough air into her lungs as his fingers half blocked her nostrils.

‘Stay quiet, you little bitch.’ His free hand found a pressure point on her upper arm, causing a wave of agony to shoot through her whole left side.

Samantha thrashed about beneath him until she realised the futility of her action. He was too strong for her. With him lying on top of her, there was no way she could get enough purchase to attack him or let out another scream.

As she lay squashed beneath his body, her defeat became obvious to him and he started to gloat.

‘Thought you was gonna escape, did you? Thought you was gonna leave without giving me my goodbye fuck, did you?’

Urghh, God. No.

Hearing his foul intentions renewed Samantha’s determination to escape his grasp, yet try as she might she couldn’t break his grip. Her exposed skin rubbed against the carpet, raising angry red burns as she fought her captor.

‘Don’t you like the idea of fucking me? ’Cause I love the idea of fucking you.’

Samantha did her best to ignore Blair’s perverted words, to close her mind to the whispering in her ear about how he planned to take her any and every way he desired. Reacting to his fantasies would drive him on and her crazy. As time dragged on, his words became ever-more depraved until his lips spewed nothing but filth. Samantha knew it was only a matter of time before he realised the police weren’t going to rescue her.

When that penny dropped into the cesspool of his mind, she expected his hands to start wandering to the more intimate areas of her body.

A door bumped shut and Elvis’s boots appeared in her eyeline. ‘You can let her up now. Plod’s away.’

Feeling Blair lift his weight of her back, Samantha grabbed for the hem of her dress. Pulling it down as far as she could, she climbed to her feet trying to preserve as much dignity as possible. Her arms became shields against Blair’s leering gaze.

Looking to Elvis she awaited his instruction.

‘Back upstairs, you. And don’t even think about doing that again. Right?’

Samantha nodded to satisfy him although the gesture was a lie. Given half a chance to escape or instigate a rescue she’d always try to get away.

She trooped up the stairs, fighting the multitude of emotions coursing through her body. She had been so close to escaping only for it to be snatched away. Yet Elvis hadn’t carried through on his earlier threats about trying to escape.

Does that mean they’re bluffing?

Then she remembered the video. The threats were no bluff. These men would take that torch to her.

A hard push from Elvis propelled her into the bedroom.

Kyle watched as she picked herself up, concern written all over his face. ‘Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine. I just tripped and fell. Nothing to worry about.’

‘What happened, Sam?’

‘I told you. I fell over. That’s all.’ She put a tone of annoyance into her reply as she needed him to stop asking the same question.

‘I don’t believe you.’

Samantha wasn’t surprised he wasn’t accepting her lie. She’d walked out of the room in one piece and had returned with torn clothing and a gash on her forehead that covered one side of her face with blood.

How could she tell him the truth? He wouldn’t understand why the men had made her dance. If she tried to explain it to him, she’d be faced with having to explain about sex, territory he wasn’t ready to explore.

Could she tell him about a police car coming into the yard? Could she really tell him how close they had been to being rescued? What would that do to his young mind? Wasn’t their imprisonment bad enough as it was without telling him how close they had come to being free?

*    *    *

Turning her back on Kyle, Samantha rubbed at her hair with the damp towel. Once again she’d had numerous showers. Only this time she was trying to wash the stench and the touch of the loathsome Blair from her body, rather than cleansing herself of his gaze.

When she turned round Kyle was sitting on the mattress watching her, the video game forgotten. The lacy dress held tight between his slender fingers.

‘I could see your boobies through this. Why did you wear it for the nasty men?’

‘Because they made me. They made a video which they’re gonna send to Mum and Dad.’

‘Why?’

‘So that they’ll get the money quicker.’

Samantha explained the basics of kidnapping to Kyle without telling him anything about the threats, or what would happen if their parents didn’t raise the ransom.

Those details she kept to herself along with the fear Blair had instilled when he was whispering his perversions into her ear. Now more than ever, she was convinced he intended to rape her before they were either released or mutilated.

His foot stamped down. ‘I want to go home. I want Mum and Dad to give the bad men their money so we can go home.’

‘Me too.’ Samantha pulled him close, so he couldn’t see the tears filling her eyes.

The door opened as soon as he pulled into the drive. Sarah waddled out carrying her hospital bag. She threw a smile his way as she turned to lock the house up.

Calmness overtook him when he saw her. Now that he was with her, he felt he had a measure of control over matters, even though he was wise enough to know it was an illusion.

‘It’s OK, honey.’ He held the passenger door open for her and took her bag. ‘Let’s get you into the car and you can tell me all about it on the way to the hospital.’

He reversed the car out of the drive and drove carefully out of Gretna and joined the A75 heading west towards Dumfries and the Cresswell maternity wing of Dumfries and Galloway Royal Infirmary.

Once he was onto the A75, he increased speed until Sarah told him to slow down. ‘I’d rather give birth in the car than not reach the hospital.’

He eased back on the throttle a little, but the road was quiet and he made good time along the dark road.

Campbell gabbled away to his wife. The imminent birth of their son filled them with a sense of elation and excitement.

‘What’s that noise?’ Her voice sharp, laced with worry.

‘Shush a second and let me hear.’ Campbell could feel the steering pulling to the left. A puncture. After a few seconds he announced this to Sarah who took the news with a stoicism he wished he could share.

‘Should I call an ambulance?’

‘No don’t bother, there’s a side road up here, pull in and change the wheel there.’

‘OK, but are you sure you’ll be all right?’

‘I’ll be fine. The contractions are still quite far apart.’

Campbell pulled the car off the A75 into a single-track road, leading to a farm. Leaping out of the car he opened the boot. Sarah’s bag was pushed forward onto the back seat as he prayed the spare was inflated.

It was. Grabbing the jack and wheel-brace, he wheeled the spare to the side of the car and dropped to his hands and knees. Working by touch alone, he managed to change the wheel in a few short minutes. Throwing the flat tyre into the boot along with the jack, he made a mental note to buy a head torch to join them. There was no way he ever wanted to change a wheel in darkness again.

‘I’m going to let the car down again now.’

Sarah sat in the car throughout the wheel change, despite being tilted over when the jack raised the car.

Climbing back into the car, he rubbed his dirty hands on his shirt, turned the car around in a gateway and rejoined the artery connecting Gretna with Stranraer.

‘Let’s go meet Junior.’

Reaching the hospital, Campbell dropped his wife at the door and raced off to find a parking space.

He caught up with Sarah as a kindly nurse was escorting her to an examination room. After about five minutes a midwife came and joined them. She asked Sarah when her waters broke, what contractions she had felt, their timing and other such questions.

The midwife rose from her chair, asking them to follow her to one of the birthing suites.

‘Is everything in order?’ Sarah was the one who voiced their concerns.

‘I think so, but I want a doctor to listen to the baby’s heartbeat… it’s just routine.’

The way the midwife had tagged those last three words onto the sentence informed Campbell it was far from routine. Hiding his fears behind what he hoped was an impassive face, he assisted his wife through the door of the birthing suite.

Sarah had barely settled on the bed when a doctor walked in without knocking, introducing himself as Dr Prior.

He wasted no time feeling Sarah’s distended stomach, using a foetal Doppler to enable him to listen to Junior’s heartbeat. He listened for less than a minute, and then sat down on the examination stool at the foot of the bed.

‘What is it, doctor?’ Campbell squeezed his wife’s hand as he asked the question.

‘The baby’s heartbeat keeps slowing down and then returning to normal. It sounds to me as though the umbilical cord may be around baby’s neck.’

‘Oh my God.’ Sarah was fighting back tears, in the hope that by keeping her emotions together she could somehow help her unborn child.

‘What can you do, doctor?’ Campbell’s face was grave as the nightmare enveloped him.

‘We can either perform an emergency caesarean section or induce labour. If we induce labour, then we’ll monitor baby’s heartbeat; if there’s any complications, you may have to have an emergency section anyway.’

‘When would the section take place?’

‘In the next twenty minutes. There is no time to waste. I’ll give you a quick minute to decide and then we’ll have to start treatment.’

When he left the room, Campbell and Sarah sat together, holding hands as they contemplated their options.

Campbell hoped Sarah would choose the caesarean section, as he did not want any risk to his unborn child or his wife, yet instinct told him it was her choice and he was ready to support her, whichever path she chose. He looked up from the floor, which had become the focus of his unseeing gaze, and held her eye. He knew without speaking which course of treatment she wanted to take.

‘Caesarean?’

She nodded. He kissed her hand as he rose to go and look for the doctor. Before he could exit the room, the door was opened by Dr Prior trailed by a couple of midwives and a third person dressed in scrubs.

‘I want to have a caesarean.’ Sarah answered the question before it was asked.

Dr Prior took their decision in his stride. ‘A wise choice.’ Pointing at the man in scrubs, he made an introduction. ‘This is Dr Wilson, our anaesthesiologist. He will give you an epidural which will numb you from the chest down.’

‘If you’d like to come with me, Dad.’ A midwife laid a gentle hand on Campbell’s arm. ‘We’ll get you a set of scrubs and you can meet up with your wife in the operating theatre before we start the section.’

Campbell kissed Sarah’s sweat-coated forehead. ‘I’ll be there, baby, I promise.’

‘You always said you’d take me to the theatre.’

Relief coursed through Campbell’s body. She was now in the doctor’s hands. The way the nurses and midwife moved around her with practiced movements and a calm manner was subduing his fears, although nothing except Junior’s first cry would lay them to rest.