It read: I’m going to sing you to sleep, and it came with a copy of the record to remove any ambiguity about the sender’s identity.
Ever since, Jane had been working on her caseload while never really taking her eye off her investigation into who the Sandman might be in real life. I had left her to get on with it, never really paying enough attention to how great a threat the psycho posed. There had been no further threats from him, and no messages or signs that Jane was being followed. We also had no client for the case and lots of paying work to keep us busy.
I was going to blame myself if anything happened to her, and since she was most likely the captive of a serial killer already, I had to accept that something already had.
Big Ben’s sleepy voice reached my ear. ‘Hey, normal sized man, what’s happening?’ Big Ben is an old buddy from the army. He’s six feet seven inches of toned, lean muscle with a face that could sell aftershave. He never misses a chance to be a dick.
I cut through all his nonsense fast. ‘Jane’s been taken, Ben. It’s the Sandman.’
I got a beat of silence before he said, ‘Where do you need me?’ The tone of his voice and entire attitude had switched in a heartbeat. We were dealing with serious business and he was ready.
He got the short answer. ‘The office. Amanda is with me. We are just leaving the hospital to get to Rochester. We need to go over Jane’s notes first. She’s been trying to work out who this guy is for weeks. It’s time to finish her work.’
‘Okay.’ I could hear movement in the background and a woman’s voice. Strike that, I could hear at least two different voices – two women. At least. ‘I need a few minutes to organise myself. I’ll meet you there.’
With that call complete, I called the next number on my mental list. I have a circle of friends just like anyone else. Unlike most people, mine were all heroes. They chose to involve themselves in my work, coming with me when I needed extra muscle or extra brainpower. It rarely goes well.
I called Jagjit, a man who I met at school on my first day. Our careers diverged when we left school, he went to university and I went off to be a soldier. When I left the army and returned home, he was still there, and we picked up where we left off.
Amanda caught my arm to get my attention as the phone rang in my ear. We were still negotiating our way through the crowded hospital and I looked around expecting to see that she was trying to steer me away from something.
It wasn’t that; Amanda had something to tell me and a question to ask. ‘Hilary is on his way. His wife is not happy.’ When was she ever? ‘Do you want me to call your parents?’
My mum and dad are kind of kooky. Dad is retired Royal Navy and is the kind of man who gives his son a stupid middle name because he believes it will help him in life. It didn’t. Mum crosses herself thirty times a day, tipples on gin and wine and dreams up ways to annoy my father. She vehemently disapproves of my career as a paranormal investigator – my activities cause at least half of the crossing she does – while dad thinks my job is brilliant and keeps joining in.
He has nearly died while helping like eleven times already. He’s probably the reason mum finds the need to tipple.
I pursed my lips and shook my head. I didn’t want them dragged into this. It is only a day until Christmas, and they are heading to my sister’s place in Hampshire for the big day. We would have enough people to go over the information I expected to find.
Having given Amanda my answer, I continued planning in my head. The exit was ahead but we had to slow down as we reached the press of people in the hospital’s reception area.
Jagjit finally answered his phone. ‘Tempest, what’s up?’
Oh, yeah. I should probably introduce myself. My name is Tempest Michaels. I’m a six-foot, one-hundred-and-ninety-pound former British soldier and current paranormal detective. The current job came about by accident but has stuck because it seems to suit me. I employed Amanda because she asked me to, and I said yes because she is a drop-dead gorgeous blonde and the thing in my pants makes decisions for me all too often.
This story is about me. Kind of.
Jane. Unpleasant Sensation. Friday, December 23rd 1518hrs
I awoke with a dry mouth. That was the first thing my brain chose to notice, but it took no more than a heartbeat for it to catch up with some of the more pertinent information. Such as my hands being tied behind my back. A ball of cotton wool filled my mouth, hence the dryness, and the moment I felt it there I began to gag. It was held in place by a rag which was tied tightly around my head.
Forcing myself to calm, I got the gagging under control and ran a mental checklist to see what other problems I might have. I couldn’t see anything, but I wasn’t blind, I was simply in a room devoid of light. I was lying on a bed. A comfortable bed at that; not that being comfortable was giving me any comfort.
Doing my best to think logically, I worked back through recent events. I’d just arrived home late last night,
