the room had held Kimberley and now it was ready for Lucy.
He went to the table, switched on the lamp and changed his balaclava for the black lightweight hood which hung behind the entrance door. Before going out to the van he released the padlock and opened the door to Lucy’s room.
Returning with her inert body in his arms, he placed her on the bed and fastened her left arm to the rail using padded handcuffs and a length of chain. This time he searched her carefully but still found only the handkerchief, purse and mobile telephone. Satisfied that she was still breathing freely he took the purse and mobile to his private room. He removed the SIM and placed the phone, battery and card at the back of separate drawers. After glancing through her purse, he placed it in the drawer with her disabled mobile.
Back in the central room he settled in the armchair, silently watching through the chain link, waiting for Lucy to regain consciousness. He wanted to upset her as little as possible so he’d prepared a reassuring recorded message using a sampled voice. There was also a choice of cold food and a drink. During these first hours she was bound to be upset so the drink contained a dissolved sleeping pill to ensure she got a good night’s rest.
The weekend lay ahead of them. He hoped it would go as it had with Teresa and Kimberley. At first the girls had been disorientated and fearful. Then, when they became aware of what was happening, those feelings were replaced by terror. They screamed and cried, pleading to be released. With Teresa he was calm and unmoved, hoping she would follow his example – but he was wrong. Only exhaustion stopped her outbursts. Only then could he establish his authority, show he was in total control. Finally, when she’d accepted the situation, Teresa appeared to believe his assurances that he would set her free.
Kimberley was less grounded than Teresa. It had taken longer but, eventually, she accepted her fate. And why not? What else could they do? Was it really so bad? Boring maybe, waiting until their time came, but the girls were well looked after.
He practically knew the speech by heart. ‘Nobody saw me snatch you from the street. Nobody knows where you are. There’s no way you can escape.’ Here he’d pause, let the message sink in. Then he would explain what the girls had to look forward to. ‘Don’t be alarmed. Do what I ask and I shall look after you. When the time comes I shall release you to your friends and family.’ Faced by his implacable but benign control, Teresa and Kimberley had reacted in the same way. Eventually their alarm and distrust had subsided to resentful resignation. It would be the same with Lucy. Then, as soon as she’d grown quiet, he would demonstrate his good will by drawing up a shopping list for the clothes and other items she might need.
He had intended to watch Lucy through the chain-link partition, waiting for her to recover. After all, her welfare should be his priority but ever since the previous night he’d been worried about a recent addition to his collection. Fresh blood was seeping into the preservative making the jar and its contents unsightly. The fluid must be changed. He unlocked his private room and left the door ajar so that he would hear Lucy regain consciousness.
After stepping over the uneven flagstone, he went to his bench. All he needed was here. At eye level, the jars housing his new collection were already filling half their allotted space. Above and below were bottles of formalin and ether. The drugs, instruments and more glassware, which he would need when Lucy’s time came, were in cupboards and drawers beneath the bench.
More blood had leached into the preservative. He pulled on latex gloves, poured the discoloured fluid into a bucket and carefully slid the contents of the jar into a shallow dish. He worked efficiently and soon rehoused the specimen in a clean jar, which he topped up with fresh formalin. At that moment there was a sound from Lucy’s room. The new label would have to wait. He discarded his gloves and returned to the central room. When Lucy regained consciousness he’d need Mr Punch. The reed was in his pocket and there were five spares at the back of a drawer. He didn’t want to be forced to buy new ones. ‘That’s the way to do it!’ Over time he’d mastered a voice less strident than the seaside original.
As he slipped the reed into his mouth there was movement beyond the partition. The effects of the ether were wearing off and Lucy was coming round. At first she was disorientated and woozy, but soon she was aware of the chain and began screaming for help. He did nothing to stop her. They were deep in woodland, far from the nearest farms and houses. At this time of night there would be nobody remotely within earshot. Still shouting for help, Lucy began to pull at the chain. He had to act. With the reed in his mouth he spoke with authority, firmly but calmly.
‘Don’t do that, don’t hurt yourself. You can’t escape. You’re in an isolated building miles from anywhere. No one saw me take you from the street and nobody knows where you are. I’m in complete control. You’re totally dependent on me.’
The shouting stopped and she turned her head to his voice. It must sound strange and totally unexpected. She looked at him in horror, struggling to speak.
‘What … who are you? Let me go!’ The attempt at defiance failed to mask her fear.
‘Be quiet and listen.’
She began to scream, shouting for help and pulling frantically at the chain. He knew the handcuff was padded and secure so he ignored her. At her first pause for breath, he switched on his pre-recorded message. Lucy listened for a moment but soon returned to screaming and shouting for help. The message finished. He observed her in silence. Her screams continued. Now she was shaking with fear as she grasped the full horror of what was happening.
He’d often tried to imagine it from the girls’ perspective. Chained and helpless, held captive by an unknown man, his voice distorted and his face covered by a black hood. They must be petrified. The hood and voice were necessary precautions but he realized they turned him into a nightmare figure. Then there was the unknown. Lucy would have no idea what he planned to do with her. In such a situation, instinct would take over. She would struggle and scream because she could do nothing else. It was too early for acceptance and submission.
He waited, silent and unmoved. Eventually she would exhaust herself but it was some time before she stopped screaming for help and began begging to be released. Later her pleading was replaced by sobbing and cries of despair. When she lapsed into moments of exhausted silence he used Mr Punch to take control.
‘Listen to me.’
Lucy continued to sob. Without raising his voice he repeated the command, firmly but calmly.
‘I said … listen … to me.’ Her sobbing was reduced to sniffles. ‘That’s better. Now, I know it’s hard but you must listen to what I’m saying. You must be desperate to know what’s going to happen to you. I’ll tell you. Nothing’s going to happen. If you do as I say you’ll be well looked after.’ He paused. ‘Earlier, you didn’t listen to my message. I’ll repeat what it said.’
She looked directly at him. He imagined his image as it appeared in the mirror. Through the slits in the black hood she would see the light glinting from his eyes. He tried to look kindly at her but even without the hood he knew she would be seeing him as an unknown horror. He had to convince her of his good intentions and that would take time.
‘I intend to treat you well. I’ll make your stay here as comfortable as possible and, when the time comes, I shall release you. You’ll be free to go about your normal life.’
She appeared to be listening but she had closed her eyes. He wanted her full attention.
‘Look at me!’
He waited for Lucy to obey but, instead, she turned her back to him and faced the wall, sobbing quietly. For the first time he raised his voice, struggling to keep the tone reassuring despite the distortion of the reed.
‘I said … look … at … me!’
In the silence that followed he heard the echo of his voice, not as his voice but as Mr Punch. It struck