When The Killing Starts: A DI Jack Dylan novel Read online

  It was midday. Jake was stood at the central island workstation preparing a light lunch; chicken salad with lashings of mayonnaise and extra cherry tomatoes that Leah had a craving for. Leah headed for the shower with her husband’s whistling in her ear.

  Jake looked over the solid oak breakfast bar through into the dining room and shook his head, still unable to believe his good fortune. After the traumatic start to his married life to a beautiful woman ten years his junior, the subsequent numerous miscarriages they blamed on her age, and the death of his parents in a hit and run road traffic accident, things were at last starting to come good. With the return of his estranged brother to the family business, something he could have only dreamed about at one time, things were returning to a relatively normal family life. He had begun to think that having a family of his own had passed him by at forty-seven, and he and Leah would live the rest of their life never being blessed with a much wanted child to seal their love, but how glad was he that he had been wrong? His commitment to the artwork empire had not wavered but his obsessive passion, brought about by him being what he thought of as the sole heir, had eased with his brothers return. Being a father and having a family of his own meant everything to him; his priorities had changed. He pressed replay on the CD player and smiled contentedly to himself as he sliced with the care of a surgeon the organic chicken, and with his large hands he tenderly cut the tomatoes into the shape of a goldfish and the cucumber into the shape of a flower. ‘Master of the house.’ He sang, ‘keeper of the zoo.’ He plated up lunch. ‘Perfection!’ he said. Nothing was too good for his wife and their unborn child.

  The Mercedes occupied by the Devlin brothers had reached its destination. There was a slight pause before Declan turned the car between the two large stone pillars leading into the long driveway that led directly to the front door of the manor house. He swerved onto the grass verge, almost hitting one staddlestone, then another before careering back onto the tarmac.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Damien shouted as his hand shot out to steady himself on the car’s salubrious console.

  Declan laughed swerving again and again, this time running over a couple of grazing rabbits.

  ‘Clever twat!’ said Damien. ‘There’s a squirrel, bet you can’t catch that fucker?’

  Declan screeched like a banshee, skidding and swerving the car, and, in the process tearing up the bowling green grass lawn. The terrified rodent legged it up a tree. ‘Loser!’ Damien shouted.

  Very shortly the banter would stop. They were nothing but professional when it came to their work.

  The wet room was filled with steam. The extractor fan made a low burring sound. Leah wallowed in the humidity and the heat, soaping her body. Millions of tiny effervescent bubbles released Lavender oil and when the scent met her nostrils she devoured the heady perfume. Turning her back on the pummelling jets of water she delighted in the feeling of tiny needles, pelting her skin. Her breasts hung heavy, sensitive and sore. Nipples that had once been a light shade of pink were now red, large and dimpled - they were getting ready for nursing, there was no doubt. Leah turned off the water and walked around the bath tub that fitted snugly in the corner of the room. Drying herself was difficult given that she couldn’t see the top of her spindly legs that supported her swollen high rounded belly. She turned to face the full length mirror and oiled her stomach, inspecting it as she did so. There was no way she wanted stretch marks, god forbid, she had a drawer full of designer bikini’s. Leah was sure she was carrying a girl - she’d done the wedding ring gender test. Was the dangling of her wedding ring over her belly on a string accurate - that was up for debate? She’d know soon enough. She stood and stared at her bump. Everyone said it was a girl. A daughter to dress up in beautiful dresses, pretty hats, shiny shoes and frilly socks. But, they hadn’t been told it was a girl, not for sure. Deep down she knew Jake would like a son as his first born. She opened the door and tiptoed into the bedroom. The mystery they had created by not finding out the sex of their baby would add to the excitement at the birth, Jake said, and she was hopeful he would be caught up in the moment and not be too disappointed at the birth of a daughter.

  Leah sat at her dressing table in just her panties. Wearing clothes had become uncomfortable and the hour a day when she allowed herself time to bathe was exhilarating as much as relaxing. ‘After lunch I’ll have a little rest,’ she thought. She yawned. As she turned on the hairdryer she looked towards her suitcase that stood by the door - all packed and ready for the hospital. The hospital; she squirmed in her seat. They had been given a tour of the birthing room at the final antenatal class. It had reminded her of a torture chamber complete with high metal stirrups to hold her legs in the air. She shuddered, reached for her bra and lifted one large, heavy breasts after the other into the enormous cups. Veins had appeared upon the top of her breasts. But they were now ‘to die for’ Jake told her. ‘They’re painful,’ she’d said. Thirty-six weeks had passed - the rest would be a breeze now she had stopped work. ‘And relax...’ she said with a sigh - the bra fastened.

  Leah could hear the buzz of the juicer downstairs. When it stopped she heard what she thought was car tyres crunch to a standstill on the gravel outside. She tiptoed over to the window. The car had pulled up directly underneath it. Pulling back slightly so as not to be seen she saw her own puzzled face looking back at her from the mirrored wardrobe. Jake hadn’t said he was expecting guests. Inquisitively she leaned forward and peering down from behind the curtains. She saw the driver’s door open and a smartly dressed man alight. The driver strolled around the front of the car. His mouth open and closed, speaking to someone, but she couldn’t hear what was being said. There was a tip tap of footsteps on the stone steps that led to the front door and whoever it was rapped on the wood. She went out onto the landing. The music from Les Mis was still playing merrily away, but presuming Jake had gone to the door as the knocking had stopped. Unsuitably dressed to greet anyone in her semi-naked state, she scurried back into the bedroom as quick as she could and closed the bedroom door behind her.

  ‘An unlocked door. An open invitation. What do you say?’ Declan winked over his shoulder at Damien, who followed him sheep-like into the house.

  The smell of cooked chicken filtered into the hallway. Declan and Damien walked across the marble foyer in the direction of the music - each eyeing the splendour of the original curved oak staircase. At the foot of the stairs were paintings reminiscent of tapestries, complete with rich borders and fringed edges. ‘Suggested confidence, stability and prosperity,’ Jake had said to Leah.

  Unsuspecting of the intruders, Jake Isaac was drying his hands on the kitchen towel. He wiped his little finger over the edge of the side plate that had been touched by the whipped cream. Hearing a noise in the adjoining room and, assuming it was his wife, he shuffled along in his slippers to meet her, humming as he went. At the door to the dining room he was stopped in his tracks. Hand still on the door knob he took a step back. ‘Who the hell?’ he started to say, but before he could finish Declan had pinned him against the wall with the barrel of a revolver rammed up his left nostril with such force that it caused Jake’s nose to instantly pour with blood. Looking directly into the intruder’s eyes, Jake could see they were slightly bloodshot. A muscular body and a firm hand was pressed against Jake’s mouth which meant he was having to fight for each breath. The perpetrator’s face was so close to his he could see the spittle at the corner of his gregarious, mouth. His breath came in rasps. With nothing said, but with an expert's skill, Jake was turned around by the second intruder, the gun now to his head, and his hands were tied securely behind his back with cable ties. He heard the tearing of tape from a reel and a strip was slapped on his face which sealed his lips. His eyes felt as if they would burst from their sockets, such was the pressure in his head. Totally incapacitated he had to admit to himself that he was no longer a free man.

  ‘Where is she?’ Declan demanded. There was an unusual fragrance t
o his clothing. Jake, wide eyed, looked at his aggressor questioningly through squinting eyes. He’d smelt it before, a long, long time ago. An earthy, burning smell. It turned his stomach. Weed, Marijuana, Cannabis?

  Declan, grinning, smeared the bloodied barrel across the distressed man’s face leaving a trail of blood.

  ‘Your wife, asshole?’ he hissed through bared teeth.

  With eyes that were full of fear Jake unwittingly indicated upstairs.

  ‘Anyone else here?’ demanded Declan. Jake shook his head in little, jerky movements. A cluster of sweat beads appeared on his forehead.

  Declan raised his head slightly. ‘I’ll see to him. Fetch her.’

  At the foot of the stairs Damien bent down and ripped the telephone wires from the socket as he passed. He took the stairs two at a time. His size twelve feet made no noise on the sumptuous pile of the floor covering. Quietly and quickly he peered into each room in his search for Leah Isaac. Eventually satisfying himself no one else was home, he headed in the direction of the noise of her hairdryer.

  Leah had her head down as she tussled her locks. Sensing the bedroom door open behind her she threw back her head, and raising her eyes to the level of the mirror her face was one of horror as she saw the giant of a man with a chest the size of a heavy weight boxer filling the doorway.

  ‘Jake!’ she screamed. ‘J a k e!’ she screamed louder and with more urgency. Leah’s heart banged in her chest. Her continued calling became gradually no more than a whimper. ‘There’s a man. In our bedroom.’ Leah’s last words were spoken softly.

  Damien assertively walked towards her. She froze. Recoiling her body, as far back as her pregnancy would allow, without falling from her chair, she let go of her hair dryer and it fell from her limp hand. Hitting the floor, it rolled on its side and for a few moments it rattled against the dressing table. There was a smell of burning - the motor stopped and smoke emanated from the appliance. A deathly silence ensued. For a brief moment the room was still. Leah’s eyes darted from side to side looking for a way out, but knowing there was none other than passing the heavyweight. With a shaking hand she picked up her hairbrush and threw it at the slowly approaching Damien. But, so feeble was the throw that he lunged forward and caught it with the ease of a cricketer in mid-field. He held the brush in the air, a serene, almost religious smile lit up his face.

  Leah’s mouth was dry her eyes unblinking. Damien lunged his head forward at hers. His staring eyes were the colour of flint. She was in no doubt who was in control. Reaching out he grabbed her and his large hands spanned her forearm. She yelped in pain. From her sitting position she could see white powder around the intruders’ nostril. She held herself rigid but such was his strength that he lifted her from her sitting position and she had no option but to do his bidding and stand upright in front of him. Swiftly, he put her arm behind her back; and with ease he manoeuvred himself into his favoured position behind her. He bent to breathe in the Lavender smell of her damp hair. Tears fell from Leah’s eyes and she cried out as he forced her arm further up her back.

  ‘You smell nice,’ he whispered into her neck.

  ‘Please, please don’t hurt me,’ she begged arching her body away from the heat she could feel from his body at such close proximity. ‘I’m having a baby.’

  ‘You don’t say,’ he said, scanning her half naked body.

  ‘What do you want?’ she said to his mirror image. My husband; he’s downstairs. He’ll give you whatever you want. Just take it and leave.’

  ‘I know exactly where your husband is. Let’s hope he does give us what we want because believe me, it’s the only way he can help you.’

  Leah briefly closed her eyes, her body tensed. She could sense his appraisal of her in the full length mirror. He turned her to face it.

  ‘You’re lovely, you are. Far too young and good-looking for that old git downstairs.’

  Leah could feel his warm breath on her forehead. ‘Please let me go,’ she said, trying desperately to hide her semi-nakedness with her free arm. Damien pushed her gently in her back, in the direction of the door and towards the stairs. She felt disoriented, wobbly, sick; she felt faint. Her heart was racing at an incredible speed as he pushed her from the top step and she feared she was going to fall. She stumbled and he steadied her. Her thoughts turned to her baby as she precariously hobbled down the steps. The baby was unusually still, as if it sensed they were both in danger.

  As they neared the foot of the stairs Damien let go of her arm momentarily, however, instantly he grabbed her hair and with a backward kick knocked a tall Japanese vase against the wall. The sound of it smashing rang in her ears. Leah was stretched onto her tiptoes. The giant of a man was a lot taller than her. With each step they took, his grasp of her hair felt like it was being ripped from her scalp. More hot, stinging tears emanated from her eyes, fell readily down her cheeks and dripped off her chin onto her bare chest.

  ‘Please, stop, you’re going to hurt my baby.’

  Damien gave an ironic laugh. He turned her face towards his, with hands that were scabbed and looked sore. Seeing she had noticed them he rubbed his unshaven bristles roughly against her cheek. ‘Chin pie the Guv used to call it,’ he said, as if she would know who the Guv was. Again she cried out and, in response, he licked the tears from her face and then lowered his tongue to her chest. A tongue that had strange blue patches upon it. ‘Salty, I love salty. You’re good enough to eat,’ he said as he bit the top of her breast. Leah screamed out her husband’s name but no one came.

  Damien slapped her across the face which silenced her, instantly before leading her across the hallway at pace. Her elbow caught the wall and she flinched. At the opening to the dining room, the Lincrusta wallpaper that her and Jake had lovingly chosen felt like sandpaper chaffing the skin on her shoulder as she was dragged against it. She almost missed the step into the dining room that she’d skipped up a thousand times before, stumbling, she lunged forward. Her right leg collapsed under her but Damien’s tight grip on her hair stopped her from falling.

  ‘Whoo, that was a near miss wasn’t it? You should be more careful in your condition,’ he said, dragging her by her hair to her feet. He looked at her. His face took on one of mock concern. ‘If you’re not careful you’ll seriously harm yourself and that baby of yours.’

  ‘Let me go,’ she said in a whisper.

  ‘Walk on,’ he said pushing her into the dining room with the palm of his hand to her back.

  The sun shining in through the large windows meant that the carpet was warm to her bare feet. But her body turned cold to see a man, not unlike the one that was behind her, stood over her husband who was bound up, bloodied and laying face down on the floor. Jake was trussed up so tightly that he could barely lift his head.

  ‘I’m okay.’ Leah mouthed. Unchecked tears spilling down her face. A loud sob caught in her throat at Damien’s touch.

  ‘Look what I found,’ Damien said to Declan. ‘Isn’t she a beaut?’

  Without words or emotion Declan took Leah’s hands in his and tied them in front of her rotund belly. His hands, that were neither nervous or hurried, were clean and soft, his fingers stumpy with square nails. So proficient was he in the act of bondage that at all times he stared into her face. His eyes were shining, like glass. She averted her gaze. Stood very still. Her hooded eyes were accepting. Flat and dead like a dolls. The inside of his arms, she noticed, were peppered with injection marks veiled mostly by his tattoo’s.

  The task completed, he raised a flat, firm hand and gently putting it on her chest he pushed her down without saying a word. She fell backwards onto the soft leather sofa with a thud. Jake was picked up from the floor effortlessly by Damien and unceremoniously transported to join her. The action of him falling down like a sack of potatoes beside her, made her suddenly conscious of her superficial injuries and she flinched. Her eyes prickled and a fire burned inside her. She tasted the salt in her tears but not a sound escaped from her lips. Although no
t religious she prayed, ‘Please God make them leave us alone.’ Frightened for Jake, whose nose was disjointed and bleeding, she stared appealingly into his blackening eyes that were increasingly closing because of the swelling, they darted from side to side and eventually fixed on the doorway. The tape on his mouth was taut but his eyes yelled at her a loud and clear message from within. But, even though her legs weren’t shackled she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to leave, as his eyes suggested to her that she should try. After a moment or two of silence, the sound of one of the hostage taker’s voice made Leah jump.

  ‘Listen to me. This is purely business. It’s nothing personal. It’s just about the money.’ Declan held out his hand, palm up and shook his head slowly. ‘Give us the money and then we’ll leave you be.’ Declan spoke calmly and with authority.