KLEMPNERBech speaks quietly. "There he is now. The green saloon, just coming around the corner. You got him?""I've got him. Where's the girl?""Not seen her."The area's run-down, grubby, populated by cheap houses and tired peopleSqualid little dump...Should demolish the lot...Living here... After everything I offered her...Gave her...Bech eyes me. I regather my thoughts. "Good. We'll take Conners now..."The car indicates, pulling over. Conners steps out, then rummages inside, taking out a briefcase and a newspaper, putting them on top of the car then stooping back inside.He's put on weight...Too much of the good life and home cooking...A swarm of small girls in witch's outfits, skeleton-painted dungarees and goblin masks giggles by. Bech stirs, but I say, "Wait 'til these kids have moved along."A three-foot high mistress-of-the-night, complete with pointy hat and fake raisin-on-the-nose wart stops by us, holding out a tin. Bech scowls. I drop
Mitch whimpers, keeping the stroller pulled well back from the corner and tucked out of sight. Jenny is restless. She wants to get out, to run and play. "Mommy...""Shhhh, Sweetheart." Mitch pulls a sticky paper bag from a pocket, takes out the largest, chewiest candy she can find and gives it to the toddler. Then she peers around the corner again.Where did they take Frank?The car pulled away, driving perfectly normally, but with her husband packed between two strangers...Police?Really police?... and Larry at the wheel...She sees the man in cop uniform speaking to Gemma.He looks familiar...She knows him... knows his face...Where from?"Wanna go home. Wanna play. Ellie." Jenny bangs little fists on the front bar of the stroller. Green sugar encrusts her mouth and chin, clashing against carrot-orange hair.The familiar/unfamiliar cop finishes talking with Gemma, touching his cap as she bangs her door closed. He smiles as she does so. It's not a pleasant s
Where did he go?Mitch sprints forward. A maze of alleys, derelict work sheds and abandoned machinery lies ahead of her. High brick walls block her view. She can hear footsteps, but they echo, reverberating against the hard landscape, seeming to come from all directions and none.Where is he?She dashes one way, then another, looking for another glimpse of a blue uniform...*****"Ah, Bech, there you are." Klempner casts an eye to his captain. "Everything in order? Stopped your rumours?""And started a few of my own." Bech circles the quivering Frank. "He behaving himself?""More or less. Not squealing as much as I'd like, but we'll see what we can do about that.""On the subject of squealing... It's carrying outside.""That right? Not a problem." Klempner jerks a thumb at McCullen, then at a reel of duct tape. "Close his mouth."Frank's eyes widen as tape, three inches wide, heavyweight, winds over his mouth and around his head, then again, another layer."Make s
"What d'you want done with her?" Bech tilts his head to the toddler, raises brows, draws a forefinger across his throat.Kempner pauses, plucking at his lower lip, then, "No, I'll take her back to Blessingmoors. Pick out one of the women... not one of the pretty ones... Tell her she's on creche duties. As long as she's looking after the kid, she's excused other work."Bech blinks. "Sir?""It'll draw in the mother, Bech. I want her alive." He turns to Frank. "And we'll see what happens after that shall we, Frank? I'll have to be inventive about what happens to your daughter, eh?" He cocks his head and winks.From behind the tape come muffled gurgles."What was that, Frank?" Klempner cups a hand to an ear. "I can't hear what you're saying. But then, who gives a fuck?" Bech regards Jenny with a flat gaze. "Y'know, it's worth thinking about. There's a market out there for the kids. Not just the adults. And there's always plenty of them available. Especially from some of those
How long will he remain unconscious?Jenny...Frank...Where are they?Inside the building, it's all but dark.Cigarette lighter...Mitch rummages in the pocket for the lighter. Flicking on the pale flame, moving as quickly as she dares, she heads as best she can in the direction of the roof-light, searching for the way down."Jenny... are you there, Baby? Talk to Mommy..."But there's only silence.Along a corridor, door after door; decaying offices, an ancient canteen...A stairway.It's pitch blackness she descends, calling... "Jenny? Talk to me, Baby. Jenny, tell Mommy where you are..."She's here: the cellar. A canvas and chain bundle lies on the cold floor, soundless, unmoving."Frank?" He moans as she touches him through the canvas. "Frank, it's me. It's Mitch. We're getting out of here."She fumbles at the chains circled around him then dashes back outside, stepping over the unconscious body en route. Grabbing the chain-cutters, she sprints back insi
JAMESThe door closes behind us, the latch dropping, but from behind us, clearly audible, "How could you, you bastard? How could you...""Don't you fucking talk to me like that, you bitch. You were the one doing all the lying. Lying all these years. You knew she was...""She's my daughter and you made me leave her..." The last word ends on a shriek, then a thump and a scream. "Frank, no!""My business ruined. One fucking dead-end job after another. No money. You fucked up my life, you bitch!"The next door along opens and a head pokes out; an old lady with blue-rinse hair and a face like a wrinkled apple. She takes us in with gimlet eyes then, "Don't mind me. I hear this too often. When I do, I leave my door open so she can run in here 'til the whiskey's worn off."From inside, another yell and a thump."That's enough," Michael mutters. "I'm not having this." He turns back, knocks on the door. "Mitch, open the door. It's Michael again."There's a shout, a male shout; a
CHARLOTTESpit it out.*Deep breath*"I have two husbands. Michael is the one with his name on the marriage certificate. James is the other."The single open eye blinks. "That's... novel. How does that work then? Having two men competing for your attention?" My mother swipes a hand through her hair. "I thought I knew all there was to know in that area, but it seems you've broken new ground.""They don't compete. They're very different. Good friends, but different."She's trying to frown, but the swelling won't let her. "How? In what way different?"I'm not used to having to account for myself this way. I've never had to do it. Never any 'Yes, Mama' or 'No, Papa'. But this is my mother.I want her to approve of me. Of what I'm doing. Of how I live. Of how I have chosen to live.I want her to like my two husbands."Michael's... well... you've seen him in action. He's... likeable. Everyone likes him. He cares. He doesn't always have a lot to say, but he shows it in oth
JAMESMitch's mouth draws open. The glass almost slips from her hand. "Larry? You've spoken with Larry? But he's in prison. I saw it on the news.""Yes, but Charlotte visits him. Michael and I go with her to be sure we know what's happening."Mitch stands. "Why? Why would she visit him? Why would Jenny want to see him?""She was trying to find you. She hoped he'd be able to tell her something that would lead her to you."Mitch lets out air, stares into space. "Was he very cruel to her? When she was small..."She's not ready for that...But I don't know what else to say. So, I don't reply. An emerald gaze shifts to mine. "You think silence protects me? When I know that I could have reached her... Gotten her out of there?""Mitch, I don't think you need the details. Not yet. Charlotte... your Jenny... She grew up. She's a fine woman. An exceptional woman. Brave. Intelligent. Beautiful. Her childhood may have been harrowing, but it formed her; forged her into what she i
A sound... Charlotte clearing her throat. "Ummm...""Yes, Charlotte." Richard swings around. "I believe that makes it your turn. James... Together or separately?""You're the guest, Richard. You choose.""In that case, I think together. Heads or tails?""Oh, tails I think, if that suits you?""Absolutely."As I withdraw from Beth, tucking away my subsiding erection, I help her upright.Richard and James both stand, side by side, towering over Charlotte. I back away from the action, giving them space, but take Beth with me, pulling her down onto my lap as I sit, nuzzling into her neck. "Thank you. You have no idea how much..."She twists back, kisses me on the mouth. "I think I did know."James and Richard are both stripping off jackets, ties and shirts, kicking off shoes. "I think Charlotte's about to get it big time," she murmurs."I'd say so, yes."James drops to his knees, settles between her thighs.Richard unzips, releases himself, then stroking his erectio
MICHAELheading south, I tug at the ties of the thong, pulling away about a square inch of satin as the flimsy thing falls away.Richard sucks in air. "So, James, where would you like me to start?""I'm sure you don't need instructions from me..." James drops eyes to Beth's smooth pubis. "... An old hand like you." His gaze shifts to Charlotte... "But I think we'll adjust the furniture a little." Rising, he takes a stand-mirror from the corner of the bedroom, moves it to the side of the bed, adjusts the angle, then stands back to gauge the results. He adjusts it a little, measures it by eye again and then nods. Charlotte has an excellent view of her own sex."Would you like her opened a little further, Richard? I imagine you'll want to reach everything easily.""Excellent idea, James. The knees wider I think, and we'll lift her hips."It's a game they play, the pair of them, torturing her with anticipation, but Charlotte's eyes tell a tale. The two Doms work as a team, J
MICHAELI sit, staring at nothing, thinking about...... Nothing...Maybe I should get something to eat?My gut's griping. I've not eaten all day. Sally brought me one of her usual offerings for lunch; a plate-sized bacon and egg sandwich and a can of beer, but the smell turned my stomach.Scruffy ate well though along with Kirstie's tribe, running wild around the gardens in hairy, waggy, excitable enthusiasm.The pint-sized rag-tag lies by my feet. Occasionally he looks up at me, whining. I scratch his ear and he settles again.There's no sign of James and Charlotte other than James' tablet on his armchair and a book, marker inserted, on Charlotte's favourite spot on the settee. With no real interest, I look at the cover. 'A Song of Ice and Fire - A Dance with Dragons.'The scent of something is drifting in, James' cooking I assume. A part of me says it smells rich and savoury, winey and herby, but my gut recoils.Just a coffee maybe...I head for the kitchen, but
MICHAELI don't much feel like breakfast, but for the sake of form, I join Mitch, James and Charlotte in the kitchen, downing a coffee, then pouring another.James is on his usual 'toast and coffee only' breakfast. Mitch works her way through yoghurt and muesli, eating tidily and sipping at a cup of peppermint tea.Charlotte's standing on tiptoe, rummaging at the top shelf of the store cupboard. James stands, walks across. "What are you looking for?""Pickled onions.""You don't like pickled onions.""I felt like one sliced up on my sandwich."I've already seen the other items laid out on the worktop for Charlotte's 'sandwich', along with the expression flitting across James' face as he saw them too.Hmmm...But he snakes up a long arm to the top shelf and takes down a jar.In some fascination we sit, watching Charlotte assemble a peanut butter, avocado and pickled onion sandwich, on crusty bread cut thick enough to use as a draught excluder. In a final flourish, sh
JAMESIt's a nice area. A pretty area. And it's a day for seeing it at its best.Yachts and pleasure boats float in bobbing ranks on sparkling water. Tourists walk by with ice creams, tossing coins to cross-legged artists sitting by pavement chalkings. Shops sell souvenirs, art and holiday wear.The apartment block is clean and well-maintained. The hallway as we approach the door smells of new carpet and fresh paint.Mitch stands outside the door, seeming to gather herself together, then taking a breath, she inserts the key, turns it, opens the door and we step inside.It's... lovely...Sunlight dances over walls painted in soft neutral colours. They complement the furnishings, made from some pale golden timber, perhaps beech."Can't fault his taste," comments Michael.Paintings dot the walls, abstract mainly, except for a single striking piece taking the centre of one wall; an image of ice and broken water in astonishing rainbow hues."Amazing painting," I say, looki
RICHARDJames steps out of the elevator looking...What?Harassed?Worried?"James?"He looks to me then jerks his head towards his office. I follow him in. Silently, he offers me a small, padded envelope, still sealed. "This was waiting for me down in the lobby. Special delivery.""A packet?""Look at the addressee."I look, extract spectacles from my top pocket and look again.And the hair rises on the back of my neck.Michelle Kimberley, c/o James Alexanders."Klempner?""Who else could it be? Conners wouldn't know where to find her. Michelle's brothers would probably send it to her direct. So, who else?""James, before anyone opens that envelope, could it be a letter-bomb?"He blows out air, rubs his forehead. "I wouldn't have thought that was Klempner's style... If he wanted her, he come after her himself..." He paces the room. "And why would he send it through me?""You parted... amicably... from Klempner? After the shooting?"He huffs. "I'm not
MICHAELJames interrupts my gardening. "You seen Charlotte?""She said she was going for a walk." I nod along the road. "She went that-a-way." I straighten up, pressing hands into my lower spine. "Actually, now I think about it, her tone was a bit odd.""You look as if you've done enough for a while. Want to take a break and stretch your legs?""Good idea. I'll just tell Chad we're going out."I find him inside, paint bucket in hand, slapping emulsion on a bedroom wall. "James and I are just going for a walk. I don't think we'll be long."He cocks an eye at me, his expression assessing. "You might like to know that Mr Kalkowski is buried nearby, in the churchyard.""He is? I thought...""He had no traceable family, so he stayed here. Some of the holier-than-thou churchy types tried to kick up a fuss about it, but Mrs Collier kicked up a bigger fuss and they found a space for him.""Gotcha."He moves to the window and points a long finger along the road; the same dir
MICHAELThe lawns might have been mown, but the shrubs and borders are heading for the sky. A quick exploration of a small back shed produces saw and secateurs, so I set to, getting the garden back under control."Hello."I turn to see a woman, standing by the garden gate. Wearing jeans and a shirt, her hair tied tightly back in a ponytail, she has a prim, pleasant face. "Hello, I'm Eleanor Collier. I've been keeping an eye on the house. I saw something was happening...?" I stand, wiping muck and sap off my hands and onto my pants, then stride forward to offer my hand. "Michael Summerford." My brain connects the dots. "Collier, was it? Charlo... Jennifer's foster mother?"Her face lights up. "That's right. You know Jenny? She's here?""I'm her husband. And yes, she's here." I yell towards the upstairs window. "Charlotte! Friend of yours here." I gesture to the gate. "You'd better come in."From above, a movement at the window, then a clatter down the stairs and Charlotte
JAMESMichael...He's depressed...What can I do?Change of scene maybe?*****"Charlotte, I was thinking, we're about due for your road-trip."She pauses, half a sausage impaled on a fork midway to her mouth. "Road-trip, Master? What road-trip?""Have you forgotten that you were bequeathed a house? And everything in it. Perhaps it is time to make good your claim?"The half-a-sausage drops back to her plate. "Go back to the farm you mean? The last time I was there, they... they weren't very welcoming."Michael is listening, chewing on toast and marmalade, suddenly looking more animated than he has for days.Thank God..."Things have changed since then, haven't they," he says. "You've spoken with your friend Tom. He knows the truth of what happened. And of course, there's Chad."Still she stares at the sausage and the fried egg congealing by it. "I'm not sure..."I pour myself more coffee. "Even if all you decide to do is sell the house, you'll need to visit