Luke Delaney - The Keeper

Karen tried to speak but could only mumble, the alfentanil numbing her mind and tongue. The adrenalin of anger breathed some new strength into him as he crouched next to her and draped her arm around his shoulders, lifting her weight with his burning legs, the veins in his neck swelling blue under the strain. Once he began to walk he found she could take most of her own weight as she moved one leg in front of the other, heading in whatever direction he led her, struggling to recall where she was and why she was there.

‘Am I going home now?’ she managed to whisper, her eyes trying to focus on the stranger who was going to take her from this place.

‘Yes,’ he lied, ‘just keep walking. I’m going to take you home now.’

Louise had opened her eyes to the unfolding scene and her ears to his lies. ‘Leave her alone,’ she begged. ‘Please don’t hurt her. She won’t be able to tell the police anything. She doesn’t even know where we are.’

‘No,’ he shouted back. ‘I can’t do that. She’s too dangerous. She could ruin everything for us. I can’t let that happen.’

He headed for the stairs, Karen obediently holding on to him. It took him several minutes to reach the top, the task of removing a drugged woman from the cellar far more difficult than he’d thought it would be. Once outside, he propped her against the wall while he slammed the heavy door shut and clasped the lock back into place, Louise’s screams from below virtually inaudible now.

‘Where are you taking me?’ Karen asked, slurring the words.

‘I told you,’ he replied in a mock-friendly voice, ‘I’m taking you home.’

Gripping her around the bicep, he marched her across the yard, stopping several times as she fell, tripping on the clutter she couldn’t see in the dark or through the clouds of the anaesthetic. After the short, perilous journey they reached his Ford. He popped open the boot and sat her on the edge, gently pushing her chest so she fell back, lifting her legs and folding them neatly into the tight space. The fingers of her right hand curled around the rim of the boot as she sensed danger.

‘What’s happening?’ she asked, confused, desperately trying to make sense of her situation.

‘Shut up and be quiet,’ he hissed, lifting his foot and stamping down on her fingers, slamming the boot the second she recoiled in pain.

His heart was pumping so fast as he jumped into the driver’s seat he feared he wouldn’t be able to keep control long enough to do what he knew he must do. He paused for a moment, breathing deeply and slowly, calming his mind and body, thinking about the task ahead, the route he would take to the place he’d already chosen — the way he’d take her from the car, the way he’d walk her into the woods and finally, the way he’d rid himself of his mistake.

John Russell sat alone in the kitchen of what he and Louise had dreamed would one day be their family home. He sipped his whisky and water, feeling ever more guilty as he remembered the relief when the police had told him they were sure Louise hadn’t simply run off with another man.

Detective Constable Fiona Cahill entered the room, disturbing his solitude and grief. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked gently.

Russell looked up from his drink at the tall, handsome woman in her mid-thirties standing in his kitchen, her short hazel hair cut for style and function, her intelligent green eyes examining him. ‘Why are you here?’ he answered her question with one of his own.

‘I’m the Family Liaison Officer, remember. That kind of makes me your minder until everything gets sorted out.’ He didn’t respond. ‘I’m here to help you with anything you need, to answer any questions you may have about what we’re doing and what we intend to do. This can all be a bit confusing if you’re not used to it — scary even.’ She noticed a slight contraction of his pupils that betrayed his fears. ‘It’s my job to try and make it that much more bearable — as far as I can, anyway.’

‘Why do I need a Family Liaison Officer?’ he asked without feeling. ‘Aren’t they usually assigned to the families of murder victims?’

DC Cahill managed not to look away. ‘Not always,’ she reassured him, ‘there’s no fixed rule, really. We often assign Family Liaison Officers in kidnaps, vulnerable people, that sort of thing.’

‘But you’re not expecting a ransom demand, are you?’ he asked, his eyes growing ever more dull and lifeless, reminding her of a stabbing victim she’d held until he was dead, back in her days as a rookie in uniform. She shook the memory away.

‘No,’ she answered truthfully. ‘We’re not expecting a ransom demand. If it was going to happen, it would have by now.’

‘What then?’ Russell snapped at her. ‘None of this makes sense. Who would take her? Why would anyone do that?’

‘I’m afraid a lot of the people we deal with make no sense, but you mustn’t give up hope.’ DC Cahill struggled to find words of encouragement. ‘If anyone can find her, it’s DI Corrigan. Trust me, this case couldn’t be in better hands. We all just need to stay positive.’

‘But that won’t make any difference, will it? It doesn’t matter whether I stay positive or whether I think the worst. It won’t make any difference. It’s like having cancer: some people swear they’re going to beat it and then six months later they’re dead, while others almost give in to the disease as soon as they’re diagnosed, but live until they’re ninety. It doesn’t matter what we think — it’s already been decided.’

DC Cahill knew he spoke the truth, but her training and experience wouldn’t let her agree with him. ‘You probably need to eat something,’ she said.

‘No thanks, I’m not hungry.’ DC Cahill saw the tears welling in his eyes, eventually growing too heavy and running down his cheeks like tiny spring streams. ‘I just want her back, you know. That’s all I want. I just want her back. I don’t care what’s happened to her, I don’t even care what happens to the bastard that took her — I just want her back.’

Thomas Keller drove along the single-track road that led to Three Halfpenny Wood, in Spring Park, Addington, a few miles south of London. He drove with the lights off, searching for the spot he’d found several weeks previously, but it had been daytime then and now in the dark and rain, with no street-lighting, it was proving more difficult than he’d expected to find it again. He slowed to a crawl, trying to locate the giant oak tree that marked the place where he would stop. Then he saw it, black branches moving in the wind, making the cold air around it sing. Relief washed over him as he put the car into neutral and let it coast to a stop without touching his brakes. He turned the engine off and stepped into the freezing drizzle that blew into his face making him feel even more alive and awake.

Keller stood by the side of his car, as alert as the nocturnal creatures that hid in the wood watching him, every sense burning with concentration as he listened and watched for movement, tasting the air for the presence of others. Only after several minutes, once he was totally sure he was alone, did he move to the back of the car, filling his lungs with the night air and tugging the hood of his tracksuit top over his head to protect him from the rain before opening the boot and staring down on the terrified woman curled into a tight ball inside.

He reached in and gripped her wrist, pulling her hard, trying to drag her from the boot, but he wasn’t strong enough to lift the dead weight she had become. ‘Get out,’ he ordered her in a loud, flat voice. ‘It’s time for you to go.’

‘No,’ Karen pleaded. ‘I don’t want to.’

‘I’m letting you go,’ he lied, ‘but you need to get out of the car.’