‘Yes, dear. You asked when I last heard from her. That would be yesterday. She doesn’t come home every day. Sometimes she stays at her boyfriend’s place; he lives in Maidstone. Jan his name is. I think it’s spelled with a J but pronounced Yan. Odd foreign name. He’s a police officer. I was always quite partial to a man in uniform myself.’
She was wandering off topic again. I did my best to keep her mind on the subject.
‘Did Jane mention ever that she saw someone watching her? Did anyone ever try to get into the house?’
‘Oh, no, nothing like that.’ Gran poured the tea from a teapot that wore a knitted cozy in the shape of a pig. The spout came out of its snout. She used delicate china cups and saucers, the type where one must raise one’s pinky when drinking. The tiny handles were far too small for either Basic or me to get a finger through. She set the cups around a small round dining table I could barely get my legs under. Basic’s chair creaked and groaned worryingly when he sat on it.
‘Have you noticed anyone watching the house? Or seen a person in the street more than once in a day? Someone who isn’t a neighbour,’ I clarified.
Jane’s gran was diligent in racking her brains to come up with an answer, but it was still a solid no.
‘Do you think this Sandman has her then?’ gran wanted to know.
I didn’t like that I had to answer that question. However, I went with the truth.
‘I suspect that to be the case, yes.’ Tempest is convinced, which would be good enough for me normally. Having found Jane’s car with all her things abandoned in it, any residual doubt had been swept away.
‘Oh, dear.’ Jane’s gran took a sip of her tea,
Seeing the worry etched into gran’s face I felt a need to reassure her. ‘We are trying to find her, and I can promise you we are pooling all our resources to achieve that. Can I see her room, please? I want to see if she has any notes there that the team don’t know about.’
‘Of course, dear.’ Gran pushed herself back out of her chair. ‘I’ll show you where it is.’
Jane. Muscular Overload. Friday December 23rd 1701hrs
My arms, particularly my shoulders, were aching to the point that the pain in my joints was becoming a burning sensation. My abs hurt too as I had to crunch them to hold my upper body off the floor enough to move my arms.
Every minute or so I would take a break. I had to. The rope was fraying, but it was doing so at a glacial pace. It was the case that I believed cutting through the rope required only my persistence, but though I tried to focus on that thought, a miserable voice inside my head kept reminding me I had no idea how long it would take and that once my hands were free, I still had the challenge of getting out of the room.
However, I was also certain that the Sandman intended to kill me so doing what I could to avoid that fate felt necessary. If nothing else, having my hands free would make fighting easier and I was already resigned to the probability that I would not get away without facing him.
The thought terrified me. I still didn’t know what he looked like. He could be a hulking bear of a man like Big Ben for all I knew. How would I beat someone like that?
Gritting my teeth against the pain in my shoulders, I continued to scratch the rope against the tiny burr of steel.
Big Ben. Jane’s Bedroom. Friday, December 23rd 1709hrs
Jane’s room looked just how I imagine a teenage girl’s would look. I need to be clear that I have not been in a teenage girl’s bedroom since I was also a teenager. Anyway, there was a lot of Hello Kitty merchandise, fluffy plush toys, and an abundance of pink. In stark contrast to all the girly stuff was a stack of books on her bedside table.
They were all about serial killers: their psychology, motivations, and behaviour. I tilted my head to read a few titles. Most of them were case studies.
I couldn’t help but get the impression she was trying too hard to compensate for the penis in her knickers. I didn’t say that though because granny was standing two feet away.
Jane’s room also had a lot of notes stuck to one of the walls. Some were coloured sticky squares and others were photographs or newspaper clippings. I pulled out my phone to take some pictures.
There were no notebooks but there was an old vinyl record. I picked it up for a better look even though I felt sure I already knew what it was.
Basic, usually silent, spoke for once. ‘Ders no record player.’
He was correct. Jane had a wireless speaker sitting on a shelf ready to receive instruction from her phone or other device. I doubted Jane wanted to play this song though, given what it represented.
I placed the copy of Mr Sandman back where it had been and continued to look around.
‘What are you hoping to find?’ asked Jane’s gran.
I huffed a breath through my nose. ‘A big fat clue would be nice.’ The truth is that I didn’t know what I was looking for. I leave the detective stuff to Tempest. I’m available when someone needs to be punched in the mouth or if there are ladies in need of distraction.
I had photographs of the things on the wall but if there was anything else here worth finding, it would require a different set of eyes. Chances were the good information would be on Jane’s laptop and that thought prompted me to get
