Wanting (20 page)

“Concentrate!” Langham said, looking over his shoulder.

“I have been!” Oliver closed his eyes, shutting out the sound of Langham pacing the room. “Simon? Are you here? Can you help me to find you?”

No answer.

The image of a body, chained to another form of pole, filled his mind. He got an impression of stairs and immediately darted to the end of the aisle, calling out to Langham, “Quickly! Over here!” He followed his senses, rushing to the rear of the warehouse where a set of metal stairs rose to a veranda that appeared to have no use whatsoever. Had it been used as a lookout at some point, the owner keeping tabs on customers during busier times? He took the steps two at a time, his boots clanking on them, then stood on the veranda, staring out over the warehouse.

Langham joined him.

“There’s nothing but room tops and aisles,” Oliver said, seeing what looked like a load of giant boxes.

“What?” Langham frowned. “Of course there isn’t. What did you expect? Simon to be sprawled out on top of one of these?”

Oliver stared down at the officers still checking the rooms. They reminded him of ants, busy, intent on their mission, probably secretly hoping they were the ones to find Simon, yet at the same time hoping they weren’t.

“Where the fuck are you, Simon?” Oliver said quietly.

“Behind you.”

Oliver swivelled, seeing a row of windows. “I don’t see you.”

“That’s because you’re in the wrong place.”

“What? You said the orange warehouse!” His words echoed.

Langham rolled his eyes and shook his head, muttering something about useless information and a waste of police time, not to mention disturbing his sleep. Oliver let the testiness slide.

“Yes, I was there, but I’m not there now
.”

“I can bloody see that! Where are you?”

“Foxes? Think about it…”

“Fuck,” Oliver whispered. “He’s out the back.”

“The back?” Langham leaned towards one of the windows in the row and looked out into the darkness.

“Shit, I think I see him,” Oliver said.

“Where?” Langham asked, squinting.

“Not out there, it’s too dark. I see him in my head. They chained him to a tree.”

* * * *

One Week Later

“I still can’t get over finding Simon like that,” Oliver said, sliding Langham a sub sandwich across the detective’s desk.

“Like what? Is it because you’re used to seeing the corpses fresh?” Langham pulled the clear wrap off his sub and took a healthy bite. Mayo sat in one corner of his mouth, but he licked it away.

“Yeah, there is that, but I meant him having no cock.” Oliver winced at the memory.

Langham swallowed, pointing at his food as if to say the conversation wasn’t ideal at the moment. “Uh, yeah, that was rather nasty.”

“Still,” Oliver said, opening his own sub, “at least it was ripped off after death, eh?”

“Bloody awful,” Langham said.

“Bloody foxes.”

“Indeed.”

They ate for a minute or so in silence, the visuals in Oliver’s head making his food taste sour. He pushed the images aside and thought about what they had to do next. Langham still had the final bits of paperwork on Simon to file then they could go home. Oliver had only dropped by on his day off to bring Langham a late lunch. If he hadn’t, the man wouldn’t have bothered eating.

“Excuse me? Can I trouble you for a second…”

“Oh, hell…” Oliver raised his hand so Langham didn’t speak. “Yes, love, carry on.” He waited for the female to speak again, wondering what the bloody hell was about to come their way.

“It’s just that I’m in this flat and I can’t get out.”

“Um… Are you alive?”

“I have no idea. I just know I’m in this flat, and every time I think I’m dead, like now, I wake up again.”

“Where is this flat?”

“See, that’s the thing. Again, I have no idea…”

Oliver looked at Langham and smiled apologetically.

“Fuck it,” Langham said. “You put me off my bloody lunch talking about men’s cocks being torn off anyway. What’s next? Lay it on me.”

Sarah Masters is a multi-published author in three pen names writing several genres. She lives with her husband, children, and three cats in an English village. She writes full time and is also a cover artist and blog designer. In another life she was an editor. Her other pen names are Natalie Dae and Charley Oweson.

Sarah is busy co-authoring with Jaime Samms. They have several books in mind so will be writing for a couple of years to come! She also needs to finish her M/M novel, the tale she’s dubbed The Book That Doesn’t Want To End. She’s at the last chapter but is afraid to open it in case that last chapter isn’t really the last chapter…