It took a little effort, but she got groggily to her feet. Most of her clothes had gone—well, from the waist down they had. Patsy looked for something to wrap around herself but couldn’t see anything. She hauled at the hem of her blouse, trying to pull it down over her hips. She wasn’t cold; there was heating somewhere.
She couldn’t see a fire, so radiators perhaps. But where was Jack?
He’d rendered her unconscious and taken her clothes. But why?
As she took a few tentative steps, she realised that she was terribly sore between her legs—and then she understood. They must have had sex, rough sex, and more than once from the way she felt. Why would he do that? Why would he drug her? Surely he must have realised that she was more than happy to sleep with him. Why else would she have come away with him in the first place? The questions accelerated the panic.
She tried to rationalise her situation, perhaps this was some sort of game. Perhaps he’d appear any second and make everything right. But the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach was saying something else. This was no game. This was horribly serious, and she needed to get out.
Patsy Lumis felt her way around the room. The candles didn’t emit enough light for her to see her surroundings properly. She took hold of one and carefully walked around the perimeter. The room was a narrow oblong and the walls were stone. There was the mattress on the stone flags, but no carpet. The only piece of furniture was what looked like an old dentist’s chair in the far corner. There was nothing else. She shuddered; she hated going to the dentist. She opened a wall cupboard above the chair and shuddered again—dental instruments, a whole array of them in gleaming steel. Where the hell was she?
“You really are a nosey girl, aren’t you, Vida?”
The voice seemed to come from the far wall. Was there a door there? She hadn’t heard anyone come in.
“Jack! Is that you? Can you switch some more lights on? I don’t like the dark,” she said, still trying to maintain some hope that this was going to turn out all right.
The room filled with manic laughter that echoed inside her head.
What was so funny about asking for light?
“No, Vida, and you’re not going anywhere, so get used to it.
You’re going to stay here for a while. If you’re good, I’ll let you keep those perfect white teeth of yours for a little longer. If not, then they’ll go into my collection.”
Patsy burst into tears. He was frightening her and she was shaking. Surely he couldn’t mean what he said. Why was he being so cruel?
“So now you know my little weakness, Vida. I enjoy playing at dentists. Perhaps you’ll disobey me, and then you can play along too. I’d like that. But even my weakness for dentistry pales beside my weakness for you, Vida. You are my major failing, my true path.
My nemesis.”
“I’m Patsy, not Vida. Patsy Lumis! Remember me, Jack?” She was screaming and weeping. “I’m at college! I’m not Vida—whoever she is.”
“Don’t you dare! You stupid bitch! Vida is my life; my one true love. Do you understand, slut? So if I say you’re Vida, then that’s who you are—is that clear?”
Patsy Lumis nodded furiously. He was crazy; totally insane. She wanted to scream again, run, grab hold of something and hit him around the head until she knocked him out. But she couldn’t. She was too weak, and she was frozen to the spot with fear.
Chapter 15
Day Six
“CCTV’s in from the undertakers,” Rocco told Calladine, as he entered the incident room the next morning. “We’ve got a blurry image of a bloke wearing dark clothing and a face mask—Mickey Mouse, I think.”
“He went prepared, then.” The DI shook his head. “We’ve possibly got another one now, so get the image enhanced—anything that helps, because we could really do with a break on this.”
“Well he’s tall and young, I’d say. It’s the way he moves, and the weight of the girl doesn’t seem to bother him.”
That was something at least.
“Her laptop’s full of conversations she had with him, sir,” Imogen reported. “But there’s nothing to pinpoint who he is or where he’s from. He gives nothing away. Madison writes loads, but gets only short messages back. He must have something else, because his messaging skills are rubbish.”
“Did he send her any photos?”
“I don’t know. She has such a lot of stuff on here—photos she’s taken and stuff from the social networking site—and I’ve no idea who I’m looking for.”
“Order them by date if you can. That might help, given we have a rough idea of the timescale.” He turned to Ruth.
“What time’s the press briefing?”
“Scheduled for ten,” Ruth answered.
“You look awful. What’s happened?”
“I think I must’ve caught something from being around all those students—or eaten something bad in that canteen of theirs.”
“You didn’t eat though, did you?” He turned back to Imogen.
“Have you cracked Patsy’s laptop yet?”
“That one’s not password protected, so it didn’t pose any problems. But it’s the same story—lots from her and virtually nothing from him. But I’ll keep at it.”
“Right—we’d better get down there, Ruth. Is the DCI coming?’
“Yep—if nothing else he’ll want to look as if he actually knows what’s going on. Have you solved the problem of the phone calls, sir?”
“I think I might have. Jo, Zoe’s friend, has a contact in the States—a lieutenant in the NYPD no less. We’re going to Skype when she’s set it up.”
“Impressive. Where’s he based?”
“Queens.” He shrugged. He had no idea where Queens was.
“Serena was from Queens, so this could be a break, sir.”
Calladine doubted that. People in New York wouldn’t have the info from the university or Serena’s friends that they had. At best, all they’d have would be a missing persons report.
“How much do we tell them—the boys from the press?”
“No point in holding back, but we won’t tell them about the mouth thing, not yet. This time they could be a real help. In fact we need a damn good response to whatever they print. Do you have the photos in that folder you’re clutching?”
“I’ve got copies of the e-fit and some photos of Madison taken off her computer.”
“Someone may have seen her with him, so it’s worth circulating.”
“Joanna Johnson has emailed us a good photo of Patsy, and one of Serena, so we’ll give those out as well. We may get lucky, sir.
Photos in the papers, a radio shout, and a mention in the local TV news. It all helps.”
* * *
The same faces stared back at them in the room where they had met for a briefing during the Handy Man case. Calladine felt a pang of regret. There was no chance of Lydia being involved this time, none at all. Pity, because he missed her. And she would have been damned helpful.
He sat between Ruth and the DCI and gave an outline of the case. Most of the reporters used voice recorders, but some still scribbled away in their notebooks. Ruth distributed the photos, along with a phone number they and the public could use if they had anything to tell them.
“We’re particularly interested in speaking to anyone who may have seen Patsy Lumis getting off the train on Wednesday night.”
“Will there be more?” a deep male voice boomed out from the rear of the room. “Serial killers like this don’t stop until they’re made to. That’s right, isn’t it, Inspector?”
Calladine shook his head. “The truth is we don’t know. I’ve given you where we’re at currently, and I’d appreciate it if the headlines stick to the facts, ladies and gentlemen. I would like the message underlined to the students in the city, particularly the American ones, and I want people to talk to us. Do your best, please. But I don’t want the local population frightened out of their wits.”