Little Red Read online

  Jack’s elbow connected with Nathan’s arm, the gentle touch aimed to waken him, ‘You still asleep?’

  Nathan groaned to acknowledge the question. He shifted his weight onto another part of his backside and leant against the plastic body of the plane. ‘Hey Nathan’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You should wake’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We’ve landed!’

  His eyes peered open cautiously. The passengers had climbed to their feet and began claiming their carry-on luggage. He sat up and rubbed his face with the palms of his hands, Jesus that what quicker than I imagined. He hadn’t noticed the multiple rocks and body jerking movements the plane had created when landing, his mind sat elsewhere, somewhere warm and tranquil, he had missed the chance for an alcoholic nerve calmer but now that they were safe on the tarmac of Heathrow Airport, his body stopped yearning for the drink. The buckle slammed shut as he released the male end of the seat belt, imitating the jaws of a crocodile. He climbed to his feet and crouched to avoid clashing with the overhead storage. Jack stepped out onto the aisle to allow his friend to pass. Nathan nodded the appreciation.

  The chill gripped his body as the doors were opened, he noticed the other passengers feeling the same effect. He watched as some pulled their coats tighter against their bodies. I should have brought a fucking coat. Jack leaned in behind him.

  ‘Did I mention it’s snowing?’ the sarcasm intended.

  ‘No Jack, you failed to mention that……I hate the snow!’ His shirt held little warmth and he placed an open hand in Jacks direction, the jumper was placed onto it.

  ‘You kind of forget what the weather is like in the UK when you spend so long enjoying the sun!’ He longed for the warmth his home gave. Spain was where he belonged, with his wife and a nice bottle of chilled wine. He hated the cold, his bones rattled in a freezing wind reminding him of his age, old injuries bit at the point of damage, reminding him of his past. His skin had leathered and browned from the excessive exposure to the great ball of fire in the sky. It now felt dry and held slight patches of a pale colour.

  They descended the un-even stair and moved with speed across the tar-mac, the walk through corridor attachment usually used when exiting a plane had broken down whilst in motion. Nathan began to think that his choice was a bad one. The snow fell lightly and Nathan felt it rest on his ears and nose. He chose not to waft them away with a hand, his fingers were cold enough. His eyes gazed up to the greying sky. Large clouds filled with white flakes replaced the clear sea-blue canvas that he preferred.

  ‘I hate it here Jack, the shitty weather just reminded me of that!’ he moved with momentum.

  ‘You get used to it…………you have no choice!’

  Ass-hole, he was right though, Nathan knew it as soon as he stepped off the plane. One of the main factors in the move abroad was the British weather and how predictably poor it was. He had only been away for several hours but he already missed Spain and all of its warmth. The core of his body was slowly losing its heat, the new climate played games with his immune system and loss of internal warmth was the result.

  The passport control was less painful and he was surprised and relieved to discover this. They were ushered through by the terminal staff like sheep in a pen, taking two steps every five minutes. The odd couple complaining and child screaming added to his growing headache, he rubbed his temple to soothe the throb. He watched as smiling couples held hands and kissed, their recent holiday and getaway had obviously been an exciting one. He thought of Elle, sat at home on her own, he hated himself for leaving her, but the images from the home made movie he had watched forced him to accept his friends offer. The baggage claim was another story. It was an omen for Nathan that his bag would be last to arrive on the conveyer belt. He had prepared himself for this problem but still looked eagerly every time a new item of luggage popped into view. I hate airports. He noted how many times he used the word hate since he had landed and decided to blame it on his age, he reassured himself that he had earned the right to complain. The sigh of relief that escaped his mouth told Jack that the long awaited bag had arrived, half an hour had passed but it had felt like more as he stood watching other people’s bags arrive first. They gathered their belongings and moved toward the exit, the airport buzzed with holiday makers and excited children, Nathan wanted to find a calm and quiet place, the noisy surroundings were unusual to him, he hadn’t missed them one bit.

  ‘So far all we have is a body, collection of snaps and the home made movie I gave you. He isn’t giving us anymore!’

  ‘When was she found?’

  ‘Yesterday morning, some ramblers stumbled across her remains in a nearby wood, not a pretty sight.’

  ‘No witnesses?’

  ‘None so far, we’re keeping our fingers crossed something pop’s up’

  ‘Unlikely Jack, you know this better than I do!’

  Jack nodded, knowing that Nathan was right. If the killer had been so discreet in abducting and moving her it would be highly unlikely that any mistakes would be made after.

  ‘When can you start?’

  ‘Tomorrow Jack, let me rest today, I can hit it with a clear head in the morning!’

  The headlights flashed and Jack gripped Nathans shoulder.

  ‘That’s our ride’ his bony finger aiming towards the black Mercedes.

  They headed toward the car, already feeling warm at the thought of the central heating. The grit below their shoes offered a crunching sound as they crossed the road, the long line of black taxi’s sat idling, awaiting the passengers from the arrivals terminal. Nathan moved cautiously, the frozen snow created a possible slip hazard. He balanced himself, both arms outstretched slightly. The boot clicked open and they threw their bags inside. Nathan climbed into the seat behind the driver and Jack positioned himself in the front passenger seat.

  ‘Nathan, meet Malcolm, he’s my personal driver’.

  Malcolm flashed a smile into the rear view mirror, Nathan returned the greeting.

  The order was issued and the driver acted, they crept from the parking space, the car was negotiated through the narrow road of the car park, the flashing lights of a passing gritting vehicle slowed them down.

  Nathan had forgotten how busy London was. Cars squeezed by eagerly, narrowly avoiding a wing mirror collision. The beeping of horns and flapping of other drivers pushed the image of home back into his head, the peacefulness and the tranquillity. The streets were flooded with busy people, everyone moved around London as if they had a purpose. Most were bloated with large jackets, the cold weather getting to their bones and chilling them.

  ‘I got you a room on the third floor, it’s an open account provided by the Met. Just do me a favour and don’t go crazy on the room service!’

  ‘I promise I’ll behave’

  ‘Good boy. I also had archives deliver a copy of the Intel we have so far. You’ll find a copy of the Polaroid’s and DVD, the findings from the location of her body and a Psych portfolio pieced together by Doctor William Lime.’

  ‘Never heard of him’

  ‘He was brought in by the head shed, nice fella, and a bit eccentric at times. But the portfolio has some interesting details so give it a once over for me. We are holding a conference tomorrow at ten. I’d appreciate your input!’

  ‘Let’s see what I come up with tonight Jack, I don’t want to be repeating what our doc has already given us.’

  The car rolled to a halt at the hotel entrance. The appearance of the building at first glance had shocked him. It was one of the expensive looking hotels, the two tall figures, dressed in matching outfits and standing either side of the double doors. The large red canopy overhead decreased the possibility of guests becoming wet from rain or snow. The entrance had been brushed, de-iced and gritted. He wondered where the red carpet was. Nathan pulled the handle and pushed the door open slowly, avoiding the cluster of pedestrians as they raced in all directions.

  ‘Nathan’ Jack calle
d as he leant across to the back seat. ‘I appreciate this……we all do!’

  ‘I know, just don’t go getting your hopes up’ he smiled as the door was closed. The boot had been opened from within the car, the lever pulled by Malcolm once the passenger exited, and Nathan retrieved his bag. The vehicle pulled away as he slammed the lid shut, the indicator flashing wildly to inform the cars behind that he was moving.

  Chapter Three

  With every step arose a creak. The floorboards were stained with a tacky substance, his shoes peeling free as he walked. Some were cracked clean in half and others were damaged with large scorch marks. He stood still, calming his rate of breathing. The staircase sat ahead of him, the streetlamp outside cast his shadow onto the crooked steps making him appear taller and disfigured. The landing housed a thick darkness and the blackness loomed like a cloud. No sounds could be heard. He listened harder, the beating of his heart filling his ears. This has to be the place………..the van is outside. His eyes had begun to blur slightly as he focused eagerly into his dark surroundings, images appearing before him…..his mind playing tricks.

  Deep within his head he yearned to step backwards and exit the abandoned building with speed, but his body was grounded. He closed his eyes and dug a bit deeper for some control, some courage. The clanging of an object connecting with the wooden floor echoed through the house, its origin appeared to be from the second floor. Armed with a flashlight and Wheel Brace he moved cautiously to the first step, his heart thudding, the pace quickened.

  The beam of light from his torch showed a dim route, guiding the way. He gave two second bursts to gather his bearings, releasing the switch and standing, once again, in total darkness. He yearned for the element of surprise but also feared being detected and killing his source of light helped him to remain hidden in the shadows. The approach seemed to drag, every step taking more effort than the last. Particles of dust danced before him as the light was turned on and off, swaying from side to side as he passed through, his breath fired them forwards.

  The house offered a damp smell, the type that swarmed the nostrils and choked the back of your throat. He wiped a sleeve across his face, attempting to remove the musky odour.

  He clung to the wall that followed to the left side of the stair, he noticed scorch marks and faded graffiti in the seconds of light he allowed himself, the writing had faded, difficult to read. He stopped at the top to observe the landing that ran from left to right, cover your arcs Nathan, leave no corner hidden.

  The crackle had caused him to freeze his movement, the sound, difficult to place, had come from all directions. He pondered, trying to determine the cause and location. It was followed by a deep howl………Who’s that I see walking in these woods…….well, it’s little red riding hood……Hey there little red riding hood…..you sure are looking good…….you’re everything a big bad wolf could want……..Hooowwwwwl…

  Nathan awoke, his body thrown upright in the bed. Beads of sweat ran from his hair line and mustered upon his eye brows, the salty liquid stung his eyes.

  The dream he recognised. He had suffered from a repetition of nightmares for several years, the same one over and over again, little pieces added to them as each one was acted out. But this time was different, the song, it was new to him……he had heard it before….but where?

  He swung his long naked legs to the side of the bed and rested his feet upon the carpeted floor. His toes curled against the crimson fabric, strands brushing into the gaps and tickling his skin…….it calmed him, always had. He leaned across the bedside table and searched for the lamp switch, finding it he pressed the button and partially illuminated the room. The red digits on the clock displayed the figures 02:43. He was awake, no chance of getting back to sleep, not after his recent attempt.

  Standing, he listened as his joints cracked, thudding within his skin, the pain temporarily aching. His body had withered after the last case he had helped Jack with. He had fallen victim of the killer they hunted, the repercussions of gruelling nightmares and body repair had caused a huge loss in weight. His once toned figure now stood skinny, the overhang of skin around his chest and lower abdomen made him sick, a reminder of the encounter, the huge scar running from his gut to his arm pit. He was reminded of the pain every time his eyes met the line of pale skin; his tanned body amplified the area of healing.

  He had drank from the tap in the bathroom and made his way to the box of intelligence that Jack had organised for him, lifting the lid he could smell the all too familiar scent of printer ink and fresh paper, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

  The box had a surprising weight as he moved it from the desk and onto the large double bed. He smoothed down the duvet with both hands and began emptying the contents. He placed the documents out evenly covering the bed, the pictures sat to one side and the disc containing the self-filmed footage was moved to the side table under the lamp. Lying at the bottom of the box was a sealed packet of adhesive balls. Jack knew that Nathan liked to stick information on a case upon a large clear wall, enabling him to sit back and scan it or walk to and fro absorbing the details. He smiled realising this. His brown eyes scanned the room for a suitable location to start sticking his new task.

  The large mirror with its bold golden frame shimmered, catching the lamp light as he pulled it from the wall, slight wall damage, never mind. He started from the left, placing the Crime Scene Investigators list of finds on first. Four pages in total, not much, he thought, followed by the Analysis by the eccentric Doctor William Lime, more pages than the CSI findings, twelve to his surprise. He had completed a full row, underneath in an individual line he had decided to place the images taken by the killer. Nathan stood emotionless, the picture of her delicate young face starring back at him, nothing was said nor thought………total silence.

  ***

  Jack had arranged for his driver to collect Nathan from the hotel. The phone call to his room had lasted several seconds as Nathan repeatedly told the driver he would be down as soon as possible. The journey from his current place of rest to the Metropolitan Headquarters at New Scotland Yard was a silent one, his driver never made a peep, absolute silence. Oddly, Nathan welcomed it.

  The traffic was back to its normal chaotic behaviour, does this place ever slowdown? They passed the entrance, the large triangle shape block, rotating slowly clockwise, its silver backing glistening under the morning sun, the bold white letters displaying the words New Scotland Yard. The driver manoeuvred the Mercedes to the rear parking area, stopping by the single door entry point, allowing Nathan to climb out and make his way inside.

  It had been several years since he had set foot inside the building, the last time, he recalled using the front entrance. He stood still as a flood of old memories overpowered him, the rush he felt when entering the building, the noisy surroundings of keyboards being tapped by quick fingers and telephones constantly ringing from all desks. He tried to picture the internal layout, attempting to find the Briefing Room from an old mapped memory.

  ‘Can I help you?’ the woman’s voice sounded welcoming and fresh.

  ‘Morning, I’m attending a briefing with Jack Dawson this morning, I’m just…’

  ‘Mr Nathan Cawley?’ she interrupted, Nathan nodded

  ‘Chief Inspector Dawson informed me of your visit, the briefing began fifteen minutes ago. I suggest you take the lift, second floor, turn right, end of the corridor and the room is on your left’.

  ‘Thanks’ he attempted to remember the directions hoping not to need a repeat from the young woman. He imagined her temper becoming un-friendly, even after he used his ageing memory as an excuse. He headed for the large metal doors of the advised method of transport.

  The rapping of his bare knuckles against the solid oak door caused a pause in the brief, heads turned to the location of the sound. Nathan edged the door open and poked his face inside cautiously, a precautionary move on the off chance he had the wrong room.

  ‘Nathan, please come in
’ greeted Jack, the huge smile on his face displaying the humour he felt for Nathan’s late arrival, ‘Everybody I would like you to meet Nathan Cawley, a veteran of the Met and a good friend’ his bony finger waved to an empty chair to his side. Nathan acknowledged and made his way towards it, planting himself under watchful eyes.

  ‘Nathan has being asked to assist us with the case, you may be aware of his previous efforts in assisting us with The Golden Boy case four years ago. He has a very keen eye for this type of material and it is a great relief to me that he has accepted to help with this new case. Nathan, give us your thoughts’.

  He stood slowly, not expecting the immediate introduction or to voice his own opinions, nothing like being thrown in two feet first, he thought. He stepped up onto the small raised platform and approached the rectangular briefing box.

  ‘Firstly, I’m just here to assist with the case, nothing more. I know as much as everyone else at this point so for now we are all singing from the same song sheet. I looked through Doctor Lime’s portfolio last night, a lot of what he states is usually found within cases such as this. But as of now we have only the one body, which means a connection from the victim to the killer is difficult to establish. The fact that he has sent us the package containing the images of the victim when she was alive and also the movie he had made, tells us that he wants to be known. He wrote a name upon the cover of the package, the Wolf, which is obviously what he goes by, he wants us to know this, he wants us to look for him and he isn’t scared of the chase. The girl’s body was found in an open area used regularly by walkers and ramblers, this again tells us that he wanted her to be found before the body was covered by the snow or eaten by the wildlife. He will consider his work important and mistakes will rarely be made, if not at all’.

  ‘Sir’ the young PC spoke softly, the front row turned their heads to establish where the voice came from. Nathan scanned the four rows of chairs and spotted the woman at the rear, her hand slowly rising.