From the Dark Page 11

  Sighing, she got to her feet and grabbed the coffee cups off everyone’s desks. There was only four people who worked from the office – two were on the museum floor and the other had popped to the photocopying room – but Toni knew if she needed coffee then they all probably did.

  The kettle turned on with a satisfying click and she busied herself putting coffee and tea bags in the respective cups.

  A sudden shiver went down her spine – cold seeped into her bones and suddenly, the dread made sense. She could see a darkened room. The walls seemed far away but grimy and black with mould and dirt. She could taste the metallic tang of blood in the air. Gasping she saw a young man hanging on what looked to be a meat hook, swinging slowly as though there was a breeze in the room where he was. Blood dripped steadily onto the ground below. There was a presence in the room, dark and creepy. Toni’s hands flung to her face, stifling the scream she knew was mounting.

  The kettle boiled, a loud click interrupting what she could see, and just like that the vision faded.

  Toni’s breath whooshed out loudly and she realised she’d been holding her breath. Shaking, she sat down on one of the chairs near the table where the staff ate their lunch.

  It could be anywhere. It might not even be Edinburgh. Do I report it?

  She knew she’d be ridiculed if she reported it. She didn’t have enough information to pass on. The young man’s face was etched in her brain – she didn’t think she’d ever forget the look of utter helplessness and despair.

  Maybe he’s been reported missing. If you did a sketch maybe the police could trace him from that?

  That wouldn’t work either – she didn’t know where the lad was – he could be anywhere. It looked like the only thing she could do was keep an eye on social media and the news to see if anything popped up.

  She wasn’t happy with her limited options. Whoever that young man was, he needed help. Toni was quite possibly the only person who knew about him being hung by a hook wherever he was. Another shudder passed down her spine – she could only imagine how much agony a hook in the back would cause. Then there was the blood – he’d clearly been tortured, his face a mass of bruising and cuts. Not to mention the blood dripping down his legs.

  Wherever and whoever he was, he didn’t have much time left.

  Maybe speak to Mark – he might at least be able to point me in the right direction.

  Leaving the cups on the side without filling them, she sped back to the office just as Margery, her supervisor, walked in.

  ‘Marge, something’s come up. I need to take a couple of hours. I’ll be back in a bit, though, and will work late to make it up.’

  ‘Don’t worry, just do what you need to. You don’t need to make it up: you wouldn’t be asking to leave if it wasn’t urgent.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Toni paused by the woman, putting her hand on her arm. ‘I really love working here. Thank you for being so understanding. I’ve set out the mugs for morning break – they just need the hot water and milk popping in. I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  ‘No problem. Take care of yourself, Toni. Sometimes you spend far too much time looking after others and not enough looking after you. Now go. I’ll see you later.’

  Toni left the museum by the staff entrance and drove over to the station where Mark worked.

  The snow was falling heavier now – traffic was starting to build and it just added to the anxiety knot in her stomach. She glanced in the rear-view mirror, taking stock of her pinched features, and knowing if she didn’t calm herself down a bit, she’d end up with a tension migraine.

  She hit the button on the radio and focussed on her breathing as the sounds of Paloma Faith filled the car, singing about making your own kind of music.

  By the time she reached the police station, she’d calmed herself enough that she hoped she wouldn’t sound like a complete idiot when she spoke with Mark.

  Toni was so focussed on calming herself down that she totally forgot she was driving on snow and slush. The back end of her car swung out as she skidded on the bend that led into the visitor car park. She fought against human nature and turned the wheel into the skid but her car had a mind of its own. She couldn’t do anything but cringe as her rear end swung towards the fence outside the main entrance of the station. Cautiously she applied a gentle foot to the brake, hoping that it was soft enough not to activate the ABS braking system. The skid slowed, eventually crawling to a stop about a millimetre from the fence.

  Her heart was thudding in her chest and her knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. Moving the car into second gear, she rectified her position and pulled into what she thought was one of the parking bays. The snow obscured the lines but she was almost sure it was a bay.

  Making her way inside, she asked the front office staff to call Mark for her and sat herself down on one of the hard metal chairs.

  19th December, 1400 hours – Edinburgh City Police Station

  Mark hadn’t stopped since arriving at the office that morning. The gorgeous breakfast Toni had cooked had worn off ages ago and his tummy grumbled loudly as he made his way down the stairs to speak with the custody suite sergeant.

  Edinburgh station was set out in a way similar to so many others – the custody suite was opposite the main entrance to the building. It led out to the rear yard and prisoners were brought in through the back. He was just about to swipe his warrant card past the card reader that would open the heavy metal-barred door leading to the internal custody door, when Caroline from the front office appeared in front of him.

  ‘Hey Mark, how’s things?’ she leaned against the wall flashing him what she obviously thought was a coy smile.

  ‘Things are fine, thanks.’ I don’t have time to deal with her crap today – wish she’d get the message I’m not and never will be interested. She’s barely an adult for fuck’s sake.

  She huffed at the lack of attention he gave, plainly not understanding how he could fail to miss the extra button undone on her white uniform shirt. He hadn’t missed it – her tits hanging out for all to see was too obvious. And not something he would ever go for. He’d heard every story going about Caroline – she’d shag anyone. He was one of the few that hadn’t gone there, and it appeared she’d made it her personal mission to get him into bed.

  Every time he saw her, she flirted and giggled like a teenager. In fairness she wasn’t much older than a teen – her blonde hair was always pulled back tightly in a bun, her make-up done up to the nines with heavy black eyeliner and sparkly lip gloss. Mark thought she was about twenty-five, but she only looked about fifteen.

  ‘Did you want something?’ he finally huffed in exasperation when she failed to get the hint and move away from the custody door so he could get in.

  ‘There’s some woman out in the office to see you. Says it’s important.’ Caroline pouted, and he felt like he’d just kicked a dog or something.

  ‘Sorry for snapping. Long day. I’ll go see her now.’

  Glancing around the edge of the internal door, his eyes widened as he saw Toni sitting on the chair, her back ramrod straight. Her skin was pale and she looked like she’d seen a ghost.

  ‘Toni, you okay?’ Mark let the door close behind him and held out a hand to pull her up.

  She took it, smiling briefly as she got to her feet.

  ‘Come on through.’

  He led her to the nearest interview room, and only realised he still had hold of her hand when he had to let go to open the door.

  Mark motioned her inside and closed the door, choosing to sit on the table edge as she took a seat.

  ‘I had a vision. Don’t really know what to tell you other than what I saw but I don’t know how much help it will be. It’s not a lot of information. I’m maybe jumping the gun by coming in to speak with you.’

  ‘Not the vaults again, was it?’

  ‘No. Honestly, I don’t know where it is. There was a blond lad, about eighteen, hung on what looked li
ke a meat hook. He was alive and crying. But he was bleeding too. And cold. It was freezing. Looked like a factory or something but I didn’t catch much about the area around him.’

  ‘I’ll check missing persons. Might be something, might be nothing, but it’s worth a look.’ Mark looked at Toni, taking in her pale skin and the frown on her face. ‘Are you okay? Can’t be easy seeing things like that.’

  Her frown changed to surprise.

  ‘No one’s ever asked me that before. It’s not easy to be honest. It’s just something that’s always been there. When I was a kid the visions presented in dreams, but my gran taught me how to deal with them and ask my spirit guide for guidance. By the time I started secondary school, I could see them in fragments, like pieces of a broken mirror with a picture on. That’s how it was for a long time. It’s only within the last couple of years I get some that look like a movie playing. They’re not all dark and scary like this one. I see things in the future sometimes, things that people want to know about.’

  ‘Do you do readings?’ Mark’s interest was genuine. He’d never really thought about psychics and clairvoyants – not since Toni had left school. Even then, he was a kid with raging hormones so it hadn’t really crossed his mind back then how hard it must be to deal with having a gift that threw you into situations like Toni’s seemed to.

  ‘Sometimes – I can often pick up things that are destined to happen but the future is a tricky one – nothing’s ever set in stone and it can always be altered. I don’t tend to advertise my gift to be honest. There’s too much negativity around Romani and psychics in general. If I do readings it’s normally for friends.’

  ‘Do you still suffer from the stigma attached to being Romani then?’ Mark shifted his bum on the table, getting more comfortable.

  ‘Occasionally – there’s a lot of people who still say gypsies are scum, or all thieves. They say trouble follows them about. I don’t get it too often nowadays but I’m set away from the life now. I follow my own path and being Romani isn’t something I advertise. If it comes up in conversation then I don’t lie – I am proud of my heritage, but I avoid the stigma and potential name-calling by not going into it if I don’t have to.’

  ‘I see. Well you know if you ever have any issues you can always ring me. Nobody should have to put up with any form of harassment. Speaking of which, did you manage to get the window sorted out?’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve got someone coming out at 4pm to replace the pane. If he can get through the snow of course. It was pretty bad out there when I got here. I skidded into the car park and nearly hit the fence in front of the doors.’

  ‘I’ll make sure it gets gritted. Glad you didn’t hit the fence. Do you need me to push you out of the car park? It’s a bit of a hill getting up.’

  ‘No, it’s fine, Mark, honest. Higher the gear the better the grip. Should be okay but thank you.’

  Mark held his hand out again after jumping off the table, and Toni took it without question. He had to admit he liked how it felt holding her hand. He tried not to blush at his errant thought and led Toni back through to the front office.

  ‘Text me when you get home, okay?’

  ‘Worried about me, Mark? That’s sweet. I’ll be fine, though. But I will text just so you know I’m not dead in a ditch or whatever.’

  19th December, 2340 hours – abandoned abattoir, Leith

  It was time.

  He shoved a rag into the mouth of the lad on the hook, and used the release mechanism to lower his body so his feet touched the ground. Then without hesitation, he angled his wrist and pulled the hook from the young man’s back.

  A low groan came from his prisoner’s mouth – he wasn’t long left for this world. Even without what was to come. He’d been bleeding steadily since earlier that afternoon. A slow drip but for some reason his wounds hadn’t clotted.

  He probably has some condition that prevents it – it might stop the spray covering the walls like the last one. He’s lost a fair bit of blood now.

  Frowning, he hooked his left shoulder under the lad’s armpit, he hoisted him up and onto his back. He was heavier than he looked and a pressure-type pain rippled over his shoulders at the sudden weight. He’d opened the fence already to allow for his exit – nothing like being prepared.

  The van door slid open quietly and he dumped the prone form of the young man onto the red rug on the floor in the rear. Anticipating a small fight when he got to the destination, he used cable ties to secure the lad’s wrists and ankles together.

  His nose crinkled at the smell emanating off the young man. It was definitely ripe to say the least. Hopping in the cab at the front, he grabbed the Vicks VapoRub from the glovebox and rubbed a small amount under his nose. He couldn’t afford to lose focus – not with the art show of a lifetime coming up.

  19th December, 2350 hours – Mark’s home, South Gyle Mains

  Unlocking the door, Mark stepped over the threshold and finally shut the world out. It had been a long day – he’d interviewed the suspected killer of the stabbing victim in the town centre and had to admit, the cop on scene was right when he said the suspect had been crazy. By the time the interview had concluded he was tweaking and coming down off the high, anxiously looking about for his next fix.

  Straight after that he’d attended the forensic strategy meeting in relation to the death of Aaron Trannet – not that there was much to go on. There’d been red fibres recovered from his clothing that were possibly from whatever vehicle he was transported in – they’d been sent to the lab for further analysis and comparison. There’d been no DNA other than Aaron’s and no footwear marks or fingerprints. All in all, it was a pretty clean kill, and Mark knew that meant the killer was potentially forensic-aware.

  His team was the best. All the inquiry lines were laid out on the board in the office. Everyone had been delegated tasks in relation to it and all were doing what they were assigned with no arguments. But even with the case in such good hands, his stress levels were still sky high.

  At tea-time he’d opted to stop at the police gym and relieve some of the stress that way – it’d been a long time since he’d worked out so hard but it felt like everything was getting on top of him. Breathing through his mouth made the workout more difficult but he managed. He’d known the second he started that if he didn’t knacker himself out, he’d be awake all night. Now every joint and muscle burned and it gave him some satisfaction.

  Finally leaving the police building at close to ten-thirty, he’d stopped by Wright’s apartment. Not even a curtain had twitched, and eventually the gnawing emptiness in his stomach had prompted him to grab a takeaway and head home.

  He set the bag containing Chinese food down on the table in his kitchen and grabbed a plate from the cupboard. Funnily enough, now he’d got food and was able to sit and enjoy it, his appetite had faded.

  He sat on the sofa and pulled the lever on the side to bring his feet up on the footrest – he loved having a recliner. It had been the only luxury he’d given himself when he’d moved out.

  Digging the fork into the noodles, he put them in his mouth and chewed slowly. They tasted like cardboard – his hunger had definitely disappeared now.

  Sighing he put the plate on the sofa beside him, laid back and let his mind become filled with the images he’d battled to keep at bay all day. Dead blond men, Wright’s grinning, smarmy face, stab victims, reports and paperwork. His mind was flooded.

  His breath hitched in his throat, and he struggled to draw a breath in. Then within seconds he was hyperventilating.

  Shit, a panic attack. Breathe slower, idiot.

  Mark tried to find something to focus on – something real that he could use as a tool to get his breathing back to normal. He felt heat rise in his cheeks and his eyes closed of their own accord. And just like that he was back in the vaults, the darkness clawing at him and dragging him deeper and deeper. A lone tear crept out of his eye and trailed down his cheek.

  Fuck. I hate this.<
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  The walls were closing in, Mark’s hyperventilation stopped and his breath hitched in his throat again, giving the opposite feeling of being suffocated.

  I can’t get out. Shit. I’m stuck. Help… someone please…

  20th December, 0015 hours – Roxburgh Street, Old City, Edinburgh

  It took about thirty minutes to complete the journey that normally took him fifteen. Damn white stuff. Everyone always says they love it but what’s to love about slush, traffic collisions and freezing cold weather? Absolutely nothing.

  The street was deserted when he pulled up – which suited his plans perfectly. Sometimes he had to wait in the van for ages until it was clear for him to enter the vaults. Not tonight. Just in case there were any nosy neighbours, he loosely rolled the now unconscious lad in the rug which had been open and flat beneath his body. Smiling, he congratulated himself on his planning – bringing the rug to each of his vault masterpieces was genius.

  He knew he was early getting to the vaults but the snow was set to fall all night and he didn’t want to risk getting stuck when he was done. The early hour meant curtain twitchers might still be awake and he didn’t want them seeing what he was really transporting. The last thing he needed was the police waiting for him when he came back out.

  He moved his head from side to side, stretching the muscles in his shoulders, then hopped out of the van, quickly wrapped the sides of the rug which had loosened back over the unconscious man, and lifted him onto his shoulders. A low groan came from inside the rug – he was glad he’d had thought to tie the lad’s wrists.

  The window was already unlatched and he threw the rug into the gap. It landed with a sickening thud and another groan came from inside. He was on the floor beside it within seconds, and reaching up, he pulled the window back to the closed position.

  The rug was hoisted back onto his shoulders again and in seconds he was through the old, heavy wooden door and into the pitch black of the tunnel. The rigger boots he wore prevented any slippage even on the damp concrete floor beneath him.