Easing off the accelerator, he slowed to a crawl, trying to spot a sign. He realised it might have been removed following the collapse of the business, but he could make nothing out through the treeline. As he reached the entrance he leaned forward to peer into and along the dirt driveway. The first thing he noticed was a low, cladded mobile home. Further along the track, and barely jutting out as if reluctant to peek, lay a single-storey building with heavy wire mesh panels.
‘That’s a kennel.’ Excitement swept through his veins. He glanced at Chandler, who nodded back at him.
They were here.
And now that they were, Bliss also knew in his heart this was where Abbi Turner was being held.
Forty-Four
When she was told to remain where she was rather than being dragged across to the mobile home, Abbi Turner realised the man she thought of as The Strangler must have returned. He had most likely slipped away to withdraw some extra cash from the closest ATM, or perhaps retrieve it from a stash he kept at home. Either way, Abbi recognised him as soon as he stepped inside, and immediately she drew back against the wall.
‘Not him!’ she cried out, shaking her head wildly. Her eyes implored Des to listen to her desperate appeals. ‘Please, not him. He doesn’t choke and release. He strangles! He digs his thumbs in. He almost killed me last time.’
Des turned to face the other man, eyebrows raised. ‘Is that right?’ Without waiting for a response, he merely nodded and chuckled, slapping the man on the back. ‘Well, you know what the price is for that. If I have to replace her, you’ll owe me big time. Not to mention helping me dispose of the body.’
His matter-of-fact voice chilled Abbi more than the thought of what was about to happen to her. This man she’d considered a friend – a man she’d even imagined might be the one – was nothing more than a callous freak who kept her locked away for others to abuse. He was no better than the criminals who pimped out their whores across the city while leaving them strung out and relying on their tormentors to keep them in their next fix. In fact, he was worse. Those men never showed an ounce of humanity. He had. And he’d fooled her completely with his act.
The man who had paid for her time walked over. He yanked away the crumpled duvet and licked his lips at the sight of her naked body. ‘Open wide, sweetheart,’ he said in a sing-song voice. Then he flexed one hand against the other, cracked his knuckles, and got down to it.
***
Bliss pulled over onto the muddy verge. He went to open the door, but Chandler put out a hand to stop him.
‘What are you thinking?’ she said. ‘Bish and the team are on their way.’
‘I want to have a shufty,’ he said defensively. ‘Get a sense of the place.’
‘This is me you’re talking to.’
‘Pen, he could be doing something to her as we speak. We don’t know if she has hours, minutes or seconds left. We can’t wait. Let’s at least take a look, see what we have.’
Chandler relented and slipped out of the car as quietly as he did. Keeping to the grass as much as possible, the pair loped back towards the entrance and the mobile home, sticking to the side of the path where there was little hard dirt or gravel to shift and give notice of their approach. A break in the hedgerow revealed a wide open space in which sat a blue van and a motorbike. Bliss noticed he was shielded from the mobile home by more thick bushes. He raised a hand telling Chandler to stay where she was, before dashing across to the van to lay a hand on its bonnet.
Cold.
He scuttled over to the motorbike and did the same on its engine case cover. This time he had to pull his hand away sharply. He crouched down, wondering whether the bike belonged to Des Knowles or to a visitor. The presence of somebody else added an unknown factor to Bliss’s simple equation. With the element of surprise, he’d back himself and Chandler over one man, but add another body into the mix and all bets were off. He took a breath and crabbed his way around the line of hedgerow towards the mobile home. He beckoned Chandler to join him, before turning to study their way ahead.
Between their cover and the home itself lay open ground. It was only five or six paces, but it was more than enough if Knowles or his visitor happened to be looking out of a window in that particular direction at the time. Too great a warning, that much was certain. Bliss calmed himself, taking deep breaths. His sense of unease was not about saving his own skin – or Chandler’s, for that matter. Abbi Turner was here, and she was in trouble. He didn’t know how he could be certain, only that he was.
One more deep breath. He popped his head out from behind the hedge and took in what he could before pulling back behind his cover. The home ran lengthways from where he squatted. It was gabled at both ends, its cream exterior weathered and stained. A set of boarded steps led up to the front door at the end
