‘Cagey? How so?’
Ramouter explained about Ashcroft’s misstep. ‘He started calling for the nurse once I tried pressing him. I don’t want to say that he’s lying but something isn’t adding up.’
‘Maybe he’s concussed. You saw how hard he was hit by that car and how the driver picked him up like a rag doll.’
‘I’m not saying it’s not concussion,’ said Ramouter. ‘But he specifically asked if his wife was ok before I asked him where she was and yes, he’d been hitting that morphine pump hard, but he knew and understood what I was asking him.’
‘You think that his wife was in the house when he was attacked?’
‘I do.’
‘But I spoke to her, and she was driving. She said that she got my message and was on her way.’
‘So, she called you back after your first message?’
‘No, no,’ Copeland said as she stood up, peeled off the hair band on her wrist and tied her hair back as if the discussions in the room were irritating her. ‘She never called me back. I had to chase her. I called her office first, she owns a cosmetic clinic in Dulwich Village, Botox, fillers, that sort of thing. The manager gave me her mobile number. It went straight to voicemail the first time. I left a message and then I called her again a few hours later and the phone rang out. It must have been another twenty minutes or so before she called me back.’
‘Just because you heard traffic in the background, and she toldyou she’d just pulled into a petrol station doesn’t mean she was driving back to London.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘She lied to you twice, Copeland,’ said Ramouter. ‘I reckon when you spoke to her, she was probably driving away from London. Away from a crime scene.’
11
Sian collapsed wearily against the van door. Her throat was raw after hours of screaming and no water for days. She’d crawled around the small space searching in the dark for anything to use as a weapon or a tool but had come up empty. The van was cold and smelt of Sian’s sweat and urine. She crawled to the front of the van and pressed her face to the grill, where she was able to see the clock on the dashboard. She didn’t have the energy to cry when she saw the date and time. Thursday 21 October, 11.38 p.m., two days since she was kidnapped. Suddenly the sliding door was pulled open. Sian’s scream lodged in her throat as a pair of hands grabbed her tightly under her armpits and dragged her out of the van. She landed heavily on the floor. Fight mode was activated in Sian’s brain. She contorted her body and kicked out. Her right leg connected heavily with something unseen, and she yelled out in pain as sharp jagged edges bit into the skin on her shin.
Sian bit down hard on the rough hand pressed against her mouth. She could taste stale sweat, salt and vinegar as her teeth sank into the calloused flesh. She tasted blood.
‘You stupid bitch,’ a voice rang out sharply in Sian’s ear. His hot breath prickling her skin.
Sian tried to scramble to her feet but stumbled, falling sideways against the van and down to the floor. A pair of hands grabbed her shoulders, flipped her on to her stomach and pushed her face firmly against the ground, scraping on the concrete. Sian chokedon the pungent scent of engine oil. Then, she felt something worse than fear as her hands were pulled behind her back and cable ties were zipped tightly around her wrists. Her hoarse scream muffled by the ground as she felt hands travel down her legs and a second tie was wrapped and tightened around her ankles.
‘Here,’ a second voice said. Softer but commanding.
Sian twisted her head away but was unable to stop the thick tape from being pressed hard against her mouth. She lay still and prostrate as the man who had restrained her stood up. She had been so consumed with fear-infused adrenalin that she hadn’t taken in her surroundings. The naked dim light bulb overhead gave enough light for her to see that she was in someone’s garage. The muscles in her stomach tightened when she saw the coils of beige rope spilling out of a blue bag.
Sian could hear the sounds of the room and life outside; the dull thrum of a passing car and the slow dripping of water. She could hear the deep breathing of the person who’d gagged and bound her like a wild animal and then there was her heart, beating erratically and fearfully in her chest.
‘Stupid, evil bitch.’
Sian’s eyes widened as a phone was put in her face. The bright light of the flash almost blinding her as she heard the voices say:
‘You’re going to suffer the same way that your victims suffered.’
‘You have no right to redemption. Justice should always be in the hands of the people.’
The kick to her temple was quick and hard. White light of pain obscured her vision as intense pressure and heat built inside her head and bile crept up her throat. Minutes felt like hours as Sian cried, her body withering like a fish out of water, gasping for air.
‘You deserve everything that is going to happen to you,’ the softer voice said. ‘You probably thought you were going to walk away from all the pain you caused and live a great life. That is not going to happen.’
A sharp and bony knee pressed into the bruised and tender flesh of her lower back, which sent an electric shock down her sciatic nerve. A hand grabbed a clump of her hair and cold metal touched her tender scalp on the crown of her head. The skin on her face grew taut as the fine hairs of her hairline were ripped out. Sian’s blood-tinged saliva softened the glue on the tape across her mouth and she released a guttural scream as the sharp blade pierced the thin skin, inched down her scalp and scraped her skull. Hot spilled blood dampened her hair and ran into her eyes.
‘I don’t feel sorry for her,’ the first voice said followed by the sound of a throat clearing. Sian cried pitifully as her body grew cold with shock. She writhed on the floor, turning onto her back, as footsteps approached. Sian was helpless as a hand grabbed her face, squeezed and turned her head so that her eyes met her punisher.
‘Do you know what this is?’ the man asked, holding a small glass vial in his thick fingers.
Sian could neither shake nor nod her head as the small words on the bottle swam in front of her.
