‘Owww!’ complained a voice that made my heart jump.
I squealed, ‘Jan!’ My boyfriend was behind the door. Trapped in a cell in an underground space just like me. It should not give me comfort to discover he was a captive too, but it did. I wasn’t alone, and even though that meant he wasn’t out there looking for me, it meant a lot to have him here. He was making spitting noises as if trying to get something out of his mouth. I remembered the ball of cotton wool.
‘Yeah,’ he replied after a second. ‘Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?’
‘The Sandman has us!’ I blurted somewhat redundantly.
From the other side of the cold steel door, Jan said, ‘That would be my guess. I didn’t know he had helpers.’
‘Helpers?’
‘Six guys dressed like weird cult members came into my apartment just after I got home from my shift. I tried to fight them but … well, one of them had a needle. The last thing I remember is the sting as it went into my neck. If the Sandman has us, then he has a bunch of henchmen working for him.’
This was unwelcome news. Until I heard it, I was operating under the belief that once free, I would only have to fight the Sandman, a man who I believed to be close to retirement age. My likelihood of success might not have been high before, but it was markedly less so now.
Jan broke my train of thought by asking a question, ‘How did you get out? You said you were in a cell. I guess I am too, but there is no light in here. I can’t see a thing.’
‘It wasn’t easy,’ I admitted with a sorrowful sigh. ‘Are you tied up?’
Jan huffed. ‘Yes. My hands are behind my back. Getting the damned gag off was hard enough. I managed to rip my right ear which is now bleeding. How on Earth did you get out of your ropes?’
It had taken me hours to get free and now we needed to do the same thing with Jan. Would there be something in his room that he could use to saw through the rope like I had? We were going to have to find out.
I crouched to see if there was a gap under the door. Maybe I could find something down here he could use to cut his ropes.
However, Jan claimed no light was coming under the door, so the gap, if there was one, was too narrow for anything worthwhile to go through.
Leaning against the wall, I began to explain all the things I had done to get free.
Tempest. Time to go! Friday, December 23rd 2120hrs
Tossing the house as swiftly as we could, the four of us split up to attack different rooms. Amanda and Big Ben went upstairs, rifling through drawers and closets. Basic got the kitchen which left me the living room with its trashed window plus the dining room/study.
We had to be swift. The likelihood that the police were coming too high to hang about. However, being swift increased the probability that we would miss whatever there was to find here.
The desk yielded nothing of interest. On it was a plan of some woodland, but in the two seconds I spent studying it, I found nothing to suggest it was of any interest. I checked underneath it to be sure it didn’t hide a glaringly obvious clue to the Sandman’s location. Then a thought occurred to me and I ran to the front door to look for keys.
That he had another property somewhere was obvious now and of no surprise. I was also convinced that it would be local which is to say I expected it to be within the county.
Kent is not a small county.
The key hooks contained bunches for a car, a few odd keys that might open anything and a large ring with a single key for a large padlock. I pocketed the lot.
Amanda appeared at the top of the stairs. ‘Tempest, I’ve found something.’
I ran up them two at a time, watching for the thing I tripped over earlier. At the top, I followed her into the master bedroom where she handed me a framed photograph.
It was of an attractive woman in her twenties. Her hairstyle and clothes were from the eighties, but filing that information away, the thing that stood out most was how much like Karen Gilbert she looked.
‘I think it’s his wife,’ Amanda whispered.
It made perfect sense. Or it might if you are a psycho serial killer.
Whipping out my phone, I dialled Jagjit.
He answered on the first ring. ‘Hey, Tempest. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. Did you get him already?’
I sucked a little air through my teeth. ‘No. It’s a total bust. He’s not here and neither is Jane. Listen, I need you to check something out for me.’
‘Sure. Go for it.’
Between Amanda and me, we steered him to research the fake names we found for Harry Hengist – the one on his arrest sheet was almost certainly the real one. Did that man marry? What happened to his wife? Was she still alive? Was she the first victim?
Amanda studied the psychology of serial killers at university, using her knowledge now to explain to Jagjit how serial killers are usually recreating a moment from their past when they kill. Or attempting to relive an experience that traumatised them so they can re-enact it the way they wanted it to have been. That the Sandman’s killing spree may have started with his wife sounded highly likely.
Big Ben called to get our attention.
