The Keeper (6 page)

‘But when you hear something, like a car coming or going, you do,’ Sean suggested.

Levy grew more flustered. ‘Sometimes … maybe … I don’t know, not really.’

‘But you heard us arrive earlier and you watched us through the window. So you like to keep an eye on the comings and goings of the street, yes?’

‘What’s the point of all of this?’ Levy snapped. ‘I know nothing about the woman across the street’s disappearance. I didn’t hear anything and I didn’t see anything.’

Sean studied him in silence for as long as he felt Levy could stand. ‘OK,’ he said finally. ‘Just one more thing. Did anyone ever arrive at the Russells’ house after Mr Russell had left for work but before Mrs Russell set off?’

‘Not that I noticed.’ Levy answered with his eyes closed as if he could somehow block Sean out of his consciousness.

‘Did they ever argue or fight that you know of?’ Sean continued.

‘No,’ Levy insisted. ‘They’re a decent, quiet couple who keep themselves to themselves. Now please, I’m very busy and I think I’ve helped you as much as I can so—’

‘Of course,’ Sean agreed. Levy opened the door a little too quickly and moved aside, waiting for them to leave. ‘Thanks for your time.’

They walked past him and into the growing darkness. The street was quiet with the onset of night and their words would travel too far if they spoke outside, so they waited until they were back in the car. Sally spoke first.

‘Do you mind telling me what that was all about?’ she asked. ‘Given that I doubt even you are seriously considering Levy as a suspect.’

‘Why not? Lives alone, bored out of his skull, nothing to do, nothing to look forward to. The devil finds work for idle hands. He watches her, fantasizes about her until finally he can’t resist it any more so he waits for the husband to go to work and decides to pay Mrs Russell a little visit. But he goes too far and before he knows it he’s a killer. It’s nothing we haven’t seen.’

‘Christ!’ Sally exclaimed. ‘Even if he did fantasize about her – which I doubt – he would never have the balls to try and do something about it. If there’s one thing that terrifies the likes of Levy it’s change. He would never risk upsetting his pointless life.’

Sean could see that Sally had had enough. ‘Fair point. I guess I just didn’t like him. I guess I just don’t like any of them.’

‘Any of who?’ Sally asked.

‘The stuffed shirt Neighbourhood Watch brigade. We might as well get rid of the lot of them for all the good they do. Stickers in windows and monthly meetings, for fuck’s sake – who are they kidding? Some madman came to this street and killed or kidnapped a woman right under their pious noses and nobody saw a damn thing. Neighbourhood Watch? Bunch of sanctimonious wankers.’ Tiredness suddenly swept over him, reminding him to check his watch. It was gone eight. By the time they got back to Peckham and tidied up the first day of inquiries and prepared for the next it would be close to eleven. He had a chance of making it home before midnight.

‘So you’re sure then?’ Sally asked. ‘She’s either already dead or someone’s taken her and she probably soon will be.’

‘I’m not sure of anything,’ Sean lied. ‘Let’s head back to the office. It’s getting late, there’s nothing else we can do tonight. In the morning you go see her parents and I’ll have a word with her workmates, just in case we’re missing something.’

‘Fine,’ was all Sally replied.

Sean forced himself to ask her the obvious question, fearful she might answer truthfully, making him listen to her fears and pain, but Sally wasn’t about to share herself with anyone yet. ‘Sore and tired,’ she told him. ‘I need tramadol and sleep.’

‘Sort out forensics for the house and check her car details have been circulated and then get yourself home,’ he instructed her. ‘Don’t stick around for anything else.’ He watched as Sally again subconsciously rubbed her chest where the knife had entered. He could imagine the scars beneath her jacket and blouse, still red, raised and ugly; one above her right breast and one below. It would be years before they faded, but they would always be clearly visible.

‘I will,’ Sally promised. ‘And thanks.’

‘Don’t thank me,’ Sean insisted. ‘Just look after yourself.’

Louise Russell sat in the gloom of her cage, knees pulled up to her chin, arms wrapped around her lower legs, hugging the thin duvet close and rocking subconsciously as she tried to judge the time. She guessed it must be the early hours of the morning, whereas in fact it was earlier, not quite ten at night. She’d tried to get her fellow captive to talk, but Karen Green just lay motionless on the floor of her wire prison. Louise already suspected that if either of them were ever to see the sun again they would have to work together. Somehow she needed to break through to Karen and persuade her to talk.

The sudden noise of metal striking metal fired her alert, her eyes open impossibly wide, like a frightened deer, her heart beating like a cornered rat’s. She heard Karen shuffling around in her cage, scratching at the floor looking for somewhere she would never find to hide. The noise and movement fleetingly reminded Louise of the pet mouse she was allowed to keep as a child, always searching in vain for a way to escape its wire world.

Gripped by fear, Louise waited for more sounds. She heard the heavy metal door swinging open and waited for the flood of light to sting her eyes, but it never came and she remembered it was night. A thin beam threw a circle of light on to the floor at the bottom of the staircase. As the soft footsteps made their way down towards them the ray of light bounced around. He stepped into the room and swung the torch slowly and deliberately from one side to the other, ensuring everything was as it should be, exactly as he’d left it. Temporarily blinded, Louise could no longer see his silhouette, only the harsh glare of the torchlight touching her skin, making her shudder as surely as the touch of his hands. She couldn’t see his face, but she was sure he was smiling.

A minute or two later the light behind the screen clicked on, the string cord swinging after he released it. Louise squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds while she prayed this was all a nightmare, an unusually long and realistic nightmare, but one that must end soon. If she could only chase the sleep away and wake herself then this would be over. It would leave her shaken for the rest of the morning, but by lunchtime it would have faded like a watercolour left in the rain. But when she dared open her eyes again he was standing there, peering into her very being, a torch in one hand and a tray in the other with a happy smile on his face.

He carefully placed the things he was carrying on what she assumed was some kind of table behind the screen and began to nervously approach her, one or two small steps at a time, his right hand outstretched in front of him palm up, as if he was approaching a stranger’s dog. ‘It’s OK, Sam,’ he tried to reassure her. ‘It’s me. I didn’t wake you, did I? I didn’t mean to disturb you. I only wanted to make sure you were all right.’ He fell silent as if expecting her to answer. She didn’t. ‘You should be feeling a lot better by now, the effects of the chloroform should pretty much have gone.’ Still she didn’t answer him, but she watched him, watched his every tiny move. He gestured to the tray hidden behind the screen. ‘I’ve brought you more food and something to drink, a Diet Coke – I remembered it’s your favourite.’

Some deep survival instinct told her she had to answer him or soon she would become to him what Karen Green already was. Had that been Karen’s failure, her damnation, that she hadn’t been able to answer him? ‘Thank you.’ She forced the words out, her voice sounding weak and broken.

A wide, relieved smile spread across his face. With his new-found confidence he moved too quickly towards her cage, startling her. He froze for a second, aware his impatience had frightened her.

‘Don’t be afraid, Sam,’ he almost begged her. ‘I would never hurt you, you know that. That’s why I brought you here, so I could look after you, protect you from all those liars, all those liars who told you all those things about me to keep you away from me. I always knew you didn’t believe them, Sam. And now they can’t hurt us any more. We can be together now.’ More silence as he waited for her to answer.

‘I need the toilet,’ she told him, the thought and words coming from nowhere.

He stared at her for a while, his mouth still holding a thin smile, but his eyes darted around in confusion and fear. ‘Of course,’ he eventually answered. ‘I thought you probably would.’ It wasn’t how she’d expected him to answer. ‘I’ll have to let you out,’ he continued. ‘Where you won’t be as safe from them, Sam. They’re still in your mind, you see. All the things they did to you, they’re still in your mind. They might try and trick you, get you to do something you don’t want to do. They might try and make you hurt me.’

‘I won’t,’ she forced herself to say. ‘I promise.’

He pushed his hand into his loose tracksuit bottoms and fished around awkwardly for something, before finally tugging the black box free and showing it to her. She recognized it immediately, the stun-gun he’d used to take her. The thing he’d used to defile Karen Green. ‘Don’t worry,’ he assured her. ‘If they try and make you do something you shouldn’t, I’ll use this.’ He looked puzzled by her expression of fear. ‘It won’t hurt you,’ he promised. ‘It’ll just stop them making you do things. It keeps them away.’

‘I need to clean up, that’s all,’ she told him.

He considered her for a long time before speaking. ‘OK,’ he said, and moved towards her cage slowly and carefully, his eyes never leaving hers. Within a few short steps he was at her cage, almost as close to her as he’d been when he took her, his pallid skin and stained crooked teeth clearly visible, his arms thin, but sinewy and strong, the arteries and veins blue and swollen. He took a key carefully from his other tracksuit pocket and tentatively held it close to the lock. He considered her again, then gave a broad smile, pushed the key into the lock and turned it. A slight moment of hesitation and then he swung the door open, the hinges squealing and the wire of the cage reverberating. He stepped back, the stun-gun in his hand at his side. ‘Please,’ he said, ‘this way,’ and pointed towards the old hospital screen.

Louise walked in a hunched, squatted gait towards the opening, the pain of her muscles cramping matched only by the fear that made her heart send shock waves through her chest. She paused for a moment at the entrance and waited for him to take a few more steps back, at last pushing herself through into the room, stretching her sore, stiff body, straightening for the first time in a day and a half, but all the time careful not to let the duvet slip from her shoulders and show him her nakedness. ‘Behind the screen,’ he instructed her. ‘You can get cleaned up there and there’s a toilet you can use. It’s only a chemical one, but it works well enough.’

‘Thank you,’ she forced herself to tell him, when all she really wanted to do was spit in his face. As she rounded the screen she saw her facilities – an old, stained sink barely attached to the cellar wall; rusty, limescale-crusted metal taps and a new-looking chemical toilet set low on the floor. She guessed he had recently installed the toilet, but clearly he had been planning for this for some time. Her eyes searched around for anything she could fashion into a weapon. There was nothing. She swallowed her disappointment and her rising tears.

She could feel him on the other side of the screen, watching her through the thin fabric, waiting for her to drop the duvet, his imagination removing the barrier, his eyes flicking across her skin. ‘Are you all right in there?’ he asked, as if she was in a separate room.

‘Yes,’ she stuttered in reply. ‘Just getting things ready.’

‘The hot water tap’s the one on the left,’ he warned her.

She let the water run hot before putting the chained plug in the sink and allowing it to fill, looking over her shoulder at his silhouette behind her, allowing the duvet to slip to the floor, leaving her standing naked and vulnerable in a way she’d never felt until now. Quickly she began to wash, using the sliver of soap he’d left on the sink to try and cleanse her skin of as much of him as she could. All the time she knew he was watching her, watching her hands moving over her own damp, shiny body. She rinsed herself clean of the soap and looked around for a towel, a sense of panic rising as she realized there wasn’t one next to the sink, the panic easing when she saw it on the table by the tray of food he’d brought. Hurriedly she patted herself dry, the stale smell of the scratchy towel making her want to retch. She could hear him, breathing heavily as he watched her. Pulling the duvet over herself, she stepped out from behind the screen.

‘Take the tray,’ he said. ‘It’s all for you.’

She studied the tray and the items on it suspiciously. A white-bread sandwich, some crisps emptied into a plastic bowl, a few biscuits and a can of Coke. The emptiness in her stomach and the rasping dryness of her throat told her to take it. ‘You’ll have to eat it in your room,’ he instructed, his eyes pointing to her cage. ‘I’ll get the tray later.’

She did as he wanted and walked as quickly as she could back to her prison, almost relieved to be behind the wire again, a barrier between her and him, even if she knew it was a barrier he controlled. ‘I’ll bring you clean clothes in the morning,’ he said as he closed her cage door and replaced the lock. ‘You need to get some sleep, Sam. We have so many plans to make. I have to go now.’

He was moving towards the light cord when a weak voice stopped him.

Karen’s head raised slightly from the floor. ‘Please,’ she asked desperately. ‘I need a drink and I’m very hungry. Can I have something, please? I promise I’ll be good.’ The room waited silently for a reaction, Louise looking from Karen to him and back, praying he wouldn’t hurt her cellmate, praying she wouldn’t have to watch again.

‘What?’ he demanded, the friendliness in his voice replaced with a quiet menace. ‘You want what, whore?’

‘Please,’ Karen pleaded, her voice trembling, her throat almost shut with dryness and terror. ‘I’m so thirsty. I don’t feel very well. I need some food. Please. Anything.’

‘Lying whores get nothing!’ he shouted.