Using hand gestures, Quinn drew the officers from their cars and sent them in our direction. They rushed us, crowding the cars with their weapons pointed at our heads. Most held back, watching us for danger as if daring us to make a foolish move while others darted in to rip the doors open.
Orders were barked, raised voices commanding us to keep our hands in sight and exit the cars.
Rough hands pulled us to the ground.
‘Quinn!’ I bellowed. ‘Stop this! We know who the Sandman is. Help us to find him!’
I could hear Amanda on the other side of the car being handled every bit as roughly as me. Twisting my head around, I could also see Big Ben. He was on his chest with cuffs being snapped on his wrists. Ever the clown, he shot me a grin and made his eyes go crossed.
This was no laughing matter though. Quinn was doing exactly what I expected him to. He could see a potential win and he was going to make sure he got it. All he had to do was make sure I was out of the way and illegally breaking into the Sandman’s house handed him the means to do it.
Trying again as they hauled me to my feet, I shouted, ‘Quinn. The clock is ticking. You must let us help you! Lives are at stake.’
Up to that point, Quinn had not deemed us worthy of addressing, but my latest rage-filled rant changed that.
‘Help?’ he repeated. ‘You continue to delude yourself that you are helping.’ The officer holding my right bicep in a vice-like grip wheeled me around until I was facing his boss.
Quinn was coming my way, making a beeline for me as his driver shifted the squad car to unblock the road.
His tone was passive aggressive and yet also borderline bored. ‘You broke into a house, destroying the front façade if my officers there are to be believed. Doing so compromised the chain of evidence and will fuel the defence lawyers with get-out clauses since they can argue you planted anything we find. What you have done is criminal, Mr Michaels, and this time you are going to be charged.’
I was seething. ‘How swiftly would you have found that house had I not shoved this case down your throat, Quinn? I have led you every inch of the way. Earlier today you denied the possibility that the Sandman even existed. Now you want to blame me for ruining evidence you wouldn’t have known to look for?’
Dismissively, Quinn turned his back, nodding his head at the sergeant leading the armed unit.
‘Take them away. I’ll interview them myself later.’
And that was it. The police had a van waiting for us, and we were going to be locked up for the night.
At Quinn’s retreating head, I shouted, ‘Jane is out there right now! He has her, Quinn. He has her and he is going to kill her. Tell me you are going to throw everything at this, Quinn!’
I got no answer, he didn’t even bother to acknowledge that he had heard me.
A hand cupped the top of my head as I was pushed into the van.
‘Mind your head,’ advised the officer, loading me in next to Amanda. Big Ben and Basic were on the other side, facing us. Their faces were emotionless, unlike mine which couldn’t decide what it wanted to do. I was madder than a box of wasps and it was a good thing I was cuffed because I would have punched Quinn in the face if my hands were free. More than my anger though was the sense of despair.
Ultimately, we had failed. I had failed. Whatever was going to happen to Jane was going to happen now and there was nothing I could do about it. Jan would likely share the same fate. Would their bodies ever be found? Jane identified so many missing women and after seeing the Sandman’s attic, we knew there were even more. The police would do a full count and match photographs to missing women, but how was it they all stayed missing? Jane’s report showed us pictures of River Tam, a young woman found lovingly arranged just like the ones in the attic. So why had she been found but none of the rest ever had? How was it that this man continued to kill and never got caught?
As it turned out, I had the whole night to consider those questions.
Jane. A Noise in the Dark. Friday, December 24th 0215hrs
I was bone tired and now that I wasn’t doing much moving, I was also getting cold. My clothes were damp with perspiration from the extreme effort of getting myself free and that was ruining the thermal insulation properties they might have offered.
My hands, shoulders, forearms, and above all, my abs hurt still but the pain had receded to be nothing more than a dull ache. I would hurt worse tomorrow (if I lived that long), and I fervently hoped to experience it.
With me giving him encouragement through the door, Jan was fighting to get free of his bindings, but he was having far less luck than me and the lack of light in his cell was not helping.
After what had to be about four hours of effort, he was still working on the bindings around his feet. He got his hands around to the front of his body but succeeded in popping his shoulder out of its socket to do so. He and I both suspected it was dislocated, the pain from it encumbering his efforts further.
Neither he nor I had any idea what the time might be. He arrived home at close to four this afternoon and was grabbed minutes later. It had to be after midnight now I felt sure, but in the dark, and with no way to track
