Luke Delaney - The Keeper

Once her uniform was fully unfastened he had to twist and bend her elbows in order to free her arms from the ungiving material, until finally she lay on the filthy mattress naked but for her white bra and black knickers. His eyes gorged themselves on her beauty, the translucent skin pulled tight over the frame of her broad but feminine shoulders, as smooth as marble around her throat and neck, the rhythmic throbbing of her jugular’s pulse hypnotizing. He watched helplessly as his hands reached out towards her, powerless to stop them as they fell around her throat, his fingers lying softly against her skin, so softly he could feel the steady beat of the valve in her blood vessel pumping the oxygen-hungry blood back towards her heart and lungs. He smiled joyfully as he spoke to himself. ‘Yes. Yes, you’re the one. I was right about you.’

His hands slipped under her back, searching for her bra’s fastening, his fingers suddenly more assured and nimble as he undid the clip with little difficulty, easing the straps from her shoulders, his heart pounding as he so slowly eased the bra from breasts that moved only slightly when freed, her nipples becoming slightly erect as the cool air rushed over them. His mouth fell open at the sight of her, his tongue moving in circles around his lips, painting them with his saliva. He let the bra fall from his hands, directing his eyes further down her body, his tongue moving in ever-quickening circles as his hands once more reached out towards her spellbinding skin. Readjusting his body position so he was level with her knees, his face pointing towards hers, he hooked his fingers under the sides of her knickers and slowly rolled them from her hips, her pubic hair straightening, then curling again as it sprang free from the laced material, watched by his widening eyes. She moaned a little as he pulled them from her groin, making him pause, concerned she might be waking prematurely from the chloroform, but she settled quickly enough. He decided it must have been a moan of pleasure, that she was dreaming about him touching her there like he knew she wanted him to.

‘Not yet,’ he told her. ‘It’s not time yet. We have other things to do first.’

He continued slowly rolling the black panties from her body until they slipped from the ends of her toes.

Cowering in the other cage, Louise Russell watched his every move, waves of nausea washing over her each time he reached out to touch the other woman. She remembered how she had woken naked in the cage, opening her eyes to the sight of Karen Green. Now you know , Karen had told her. Now you know what’s going to happen to you. Unless she could do something to stop him, Louise knew the fate he had in store for her. Somehow she would have to persuade this other woman to help her. Only if they acted together would they stand any chance of surviving.

Keller was still transfixed by Deborah Thomson. As he stared at her nakedness, her cut and bloodied feet seemed the only imperfection. He knew he should fold the duvet over her and leave, but he couldn’t, not yet. His hands fell gently on her ankles and began to slide along her slim, smooth legs, his thumbs exploring her pubic hair and the cleft of her vagina before moving on to her soft belly and brushing over her ribs, coming to rest on her breasts, the pain of ecstasy suddenly too much for him to bear. He released the button of his trousers and undid the zip, thrusting his hand inside his underpants and gripping his fully erect penis. Moaning obscenely, he jerked his hand feverishly, and within seconds warm, sticky fluid was pumping into his hand and trousers, the relief of orgasm almost as sweet as the relief that he’d been too close to climax to have tried to enter her, his dark side threatening to spoil everything. He wiped his hand clean on the inside of his trousers and sheepishly gathered her clothes, carefully folding the duvet over her and leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead.

He crawled from her cage and stood fastening his trousers before securing the door. As he walked from the cellar he pulled the light cord, plunging the room into darkness, not once looking in Louise Russell’s direction. Closing the metal door behind him, he walked to an old oil drum and threw Deborah Thomson’s clothes inside. Then he lifted a can of petrol he kept next to the drum, unscrewed the lid and poured in more than was necessary, pulling a box of matches from his shirt pocket and lighting three bunched together. Taking a step back, he tossed the matches into the drum and watched as the orange flames leapt high before settling into the confines of the drum where her clothes shrivelled and charred.

‘You don’t need these any more,’ he whispered. ‘They can’t make you pretend any more. You’re home now, Sam. You’re home.’

When Sean arrived back at the office it was approaching six thirty p.m., but the place was busier than usual for a Friday evening. Clearly a fair number of his team were still hoping to salvage some kind of a weekend, even if in their hearts they knew any real chance of spending time with friends or family had long since gone and they’d end up settling for a couple of hours in the local pub before beating their weary way home. He caught Donnelly’s eye as he passed his desk. ‘Guv’nor,’ Donnelly acknowledged him.

‘Looking forward to another relaxing weekend at home with the wife and kids?’ Sean asked ironically.

Donnelly shrugged and gave a low laugh. ‘At home with the wife and kids? I’d rather be here telling people what to do than be there being told what to do.’

Sean raised his eyebrows and kept walking until Sally stepped in front of him.

‘There’s someone in your office to see you,’ she said quietly. ‘Featherstone dropped her off a couple of hours ago.’

Sean looked towards his own office and saw the back of a woman’s head. She was sitting in one of the chairs he kept for his frequent visitors.

‘Who is she?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Sally. ‘I haven’t spoken to her.’

‘Does anyone know who she is?’

Sally shrugged and walked away, leaving Sean to look around the office accusingly at the faces turning from him and forming secretive huddles. Whoever she was, he sensed she was bad news. He strode towards his office, entering with far more of a performance than usual, throwing his raincoat across his desk and emptying his heavy pockets on to it, waiting for the woman to make the first move. Carefully placing the case report she’d been reading on the floor next to her chair, she got to her feet, hand outstretched.

‘Anna Ravenni-Ceron. Detective Inspector Sean Corrigan, I presume.’ He accepted her hand, holding it softly for a second before releasing it, studying her brown eyes, which were magnified by the small, heavy-framed designer glasses she wore. Her dark skin betrayed her Mediterranean origins as surely as her name, as did her almost black hair, which he suspected was long and curly, although she’d done her best to hide the fact by pinning it in a bundle on top of her head, leaving her fine-boned face clear. She wore a fitted blue cotton blouse, unbuttoned just enough to reveal her modest cleavage, and a slim-fitting grey knee-length skirt that showed her pleasantly wide hips as they tapered into a small waist. Temporarily disarmed by her attractiveness, he sat on the edge of his desk.

‘If you’re looking for DI Corrigan, then yes, you’ve found him. Please, have a seat.’ He watched her smoothing her skirt out as she sat back down. ‘So what can I do for you, Miss … sorry, I-’

‘Anna Ravenni-Ceron and it’s Mrs, but please, just call me Anna.’

‘OK, Anna, what can I do for you?’

‘It was my understanding that you would be expecting me. Superintendent Featherstone assured me he’d informed you that I would be assisting with the investigation.’ Recognizing the blank expression on Sean’s face, she added, ‘I’m the criminal psychiatrist who’s been assigned to help profile the man who kidnapped Louise Russell. I gather there’s reason to believe he’s also responsible for the murder of another woman.’