Hunted (18 page)

“I need to see the car park.”

“There’s nothing there, we’ve looked,” said Battler.

“I’m sure you have but I need to get under the kidnapper’s skin, I need to think like him and in order to do that I have to see the places he’s been.”

“Give her whatever she needs,” said Rachel. With that she turned her back on them all to face the window.

Battler and Bruiser took this as the dismissal it was and led Jules outside to their car.

“What can we do?” said Jez, practically hopping from one foot to the other with anxiety. “I need to be doing something.”

“You can take a look up at the Marsh‘s farm, they’re our nearest neighbours. Ryan had some suspicions about the man who owns it. Battler and Bruiser have checked the house and some of the outbuildings but there are a couple of places they’ve not had chance to check yet,” said Rachel, still facing the window. “They’ll be out all afternoon visiting relatives so you’ll be free and clear but make sure you’re gone by five, they’ll be back then.”

“Then we’ll get on it,” said Jez, already striding for the door.

“Do you want me to stay with you Rach?” said Mikey, coming up behind her and putting his arm around her shoulders.

“I’d rather you were doing something useful to find Ryan.” She looked up at him apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so short.”

“You don’t ever need to apologise to me Rach. We’ll get right on it, if it’ll help.”

“Thanks,” she said, her voice breaking.

He kissed her cheek and followed Jez outside.

When she heard the front door slam shut behind them Rachel allowed herself to descend into sobs.

CHAPTER 20

Beth stood eagerly in the arrivals lounge of Manchester Airport, butterflies in her stomach as she studied the face of every incomer. When a tall figure wearing army fatigues carrying a backpack emerged, her heart leapt.

“Riley,” she called, realising she sounded like a schoolgirl with a crush.

He broke into a grin and rushed to her. Dumping the backpack he pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her neck. She was crushed against him but she was delighted, it told her how much he’d missed her.

“It’s so good to see you again,” she said.

He pulled back slightly so he could look her in the face. Tenderly he brushed her hair back off her forehead. “Good to see you too. You look so beautiful.”

They looked at each other shyly, uncertain, before Riley made the decision for them both and kissed her. Not caring they were in an airport full of people she groaned into his mouth, lust overwhelming her. He was so hot.

She saw a group of teenage girls watching her jealously and was overcome with pride for her handsome soldier. Yes his job was so dangerous but it was one to be proud of, unlike Alex’s work.

“Riley, there’s something you need to know.”

His smile fell. “What?”

“It’s Ryan.”

Ryan’s head thumped with pain, a steady rhythm that made his stomach roll over. His back also throbbed, as though someone had had a go at it with an iron bar.

Acting on instinct he didn’t move or make any sign that he was awake. Instead he lay still, listening, attempting to acclimatise himself. Where was he? He wasn’t at home, that was for sure. The floor he was laid on was cold and composed of wood. Something heavy weighed down his wrists. Chains, he surmised. There was a slight throb in his left upper arm. He recalled the sharp pain, looking down to see the dart embedded there, pulling it out and slumping to the ground, a large figure looming over him…

Ryan stifled a shiver that, he was forced to admit, wasn’t entirely caused by the cold seeping into his bones. Who was responsible for this? The McVay’s? Katia? The Slatterys?

Someone was watching him, he could feel their eyes burning into him. Time to stop the charade and face this.

Ryan dragged himself up onto his knees, vision blurring as his head swam. His stomach heaved violently and he doubled over and retched, but nothing came up.

“It’s just the effects of the drug,” said a voice. “It’ll wear off soon.”

Ryan analysed the voice as he attempted to clear his vision. The accent wasn’t Scottish, Slovakian or Essex, so that ruled out the usual suspects. In fact it was pure Devonshire. A local boy.

Ryan forced his head up, the large figure before him seeming to blur and split into two before it merged and became one again, the film lifting from his eyes. Finally he saw it was a heavy set man, overweight, thinning dark hair, small sunken eyes. He wore camouflage combat trousers, his pendulous belly protruding over the top, and a matching jacket, which hung open to reveal a dark green t-shirt beneath, the material stretched to its limit. For some reason he looked familiar but his brain refused to tell him why.

They were in some sort of wooden hut, it was dark and dank and stank of death, old death. It looked like it was used regularly. There was only one exit - a door to Ryan’s right at the far end of the room. There were no windows. Two camping lanterns cast the only light. The only other things in the small room were a couple of chairs, a portable television and a padlocked steel cabinet. Against one wall were an ancient electric cooker and a small fridge or freezer, he couldn’t tell which just by looking at it. Ryan reasoned there must be a generator somewhere powering everything. The wooden walls were covered in animals heads. On the far wall were mounted what appeared to be a pair of human hands, ten toes and a pair of ears. There were other gruesome trophies that Ryan didn’t care to examine too closely, but it was clear they’d been taken from human beings, not animals. Frankie McVay would have loved this place.

“Who are you?” murmured Ryan, tongue thick in his mouth. When he tried to run his hands down his face he found he could only lift them to chest level, hearing the clink of chains, feeling the weight of them. Looking down he saw the manacles around his wrists were tethered to thick loops that were bolted to the floor.

“You’ve been looking for me Ryan,” replied the fat man with an amused smile. “You’ve been hunting me when all the time I was stalking you, waiting to go in for the kill and you didn’t even know.”

Ryan recalled all the times he’d thought someone had been watching him and seen no one. How had he missed this fat bastard? His synapses started firing again, allowing him to make connections. “Kerrell.”

“Thanks for coming to my office and telling me what you were up to. However I was already keeping a close eye on you after we met at that auction. You appealed to me immediately.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “You had no idea I was there, watching you.”

“Impossible, I would have seen you,” retorted Ryan.

“But you didn’t because I’m good at this, practiced, a true hunter.”

Ryan frowned. This was a different man to the one he’d spoken to in a nice, civilised fashion in a nice, civilised office. He was a cold, detached creature, reptilian, empty.

“I took them all,” continued Gerard. “I killed them and watched the blood pump out of them before gutting them and taking my trophies.”

“I’ve been abducted by a serial killer?” Ryan sighed and shook his head. “Oh dear, how embarrassing.”

The fat man’s cool, superior attitude slipped. “Is that all you’ve got to say? How embarrassing,” he said, mimicking Ryan’s posh Cambridge accent.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Well, you could at least look scared.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed, his laser beam stare boring into the man. “I do not get scared.”

The man shuffled uncomfortably. He wasn’t used to this. He was used to his victims crying and begging him not to hurt them, that was when he felt powerful, strong. This man was chained up, unable to fight, but he still made him feel like a lesser human being and that made him angry. “You will. You’ll experience fear and pain you didn’t know possible. In here you will call me Orion, that is my true name,” he announced dramatically.

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Orion as in the hunter in Greek mythology?”

Orion nodded grandly.

“That’s what you do, hunt?”

“Yes but a much bigger game. Any fool can kill a bird or a deer but it takes another kind of creature entirely to hunt humans.”

“I suppose Orion was the only name you could really take, wasn’t it? Diana and Artemis are both women, so you really couldn’t call yourself after a girl. Broteas was supposedly an ugly bastard. Of course there was Ipabog, the Danish demi-god, but the name doesn’t really inspire fear, does it? But what about poor Heracles Kyngidas from Macedonian mythology or Mixcoatl from the Mesoamerican cultures? What did they do to deserve to be overlooked?

Orion blinked at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Hunters from mythology. I thought you would have considered them all before choosing your name.”

“Never mind my bloody name. You don’t seem to understand, we’re going to kill you.”

“You’ll try but you’ll fail,” Ryan replied dismissively. “Anyway, who’s this we?”

“Not so smart. You missed one?”

“Who?”

“Actaeon,” he said, indicating the door with a sweep of the arm.

Ryan watched as a second man stepped into the room, one he’d never met before wearing the same outfit Kerrell sported only it fit him much better. He was taller and much more powerful-looking than Orion, more muscle than fat, although he was older. Ryan placed him in his mid fifties. His face was red and ruddy from spending a lot of time outdoors, huge hands heavily calloused. He looked much more intimidating than Orion but Ryan wasn’t one to let himself be intimidated.

“So here’s the second Greek god,” said Ryan sarcastically. “You’re working as a pair.” He eyed their camouflage gear. “Despite the outfits you’re not army, there’s no way Orion here would have passed the fitness tests,” he said, causing him to scowl. “This room looks like a shed and I’ve heard nothing outside, no cars, no voices, so we’re in the middle of nowhere. Orion here’s a local boy and I’m guessing you are too Actaeon, which means we’re not far, probably somewhere on Dartmoor. Am I right?”

“Dartmoor Forest to be precise and it’s not a shed, it’s our hide, that’s what we call it. It’s where we can be our true selves,” snapped Actaeon. He studied Ryan thoughtfully, assessing him. “You’re very clever aren’t you? But not clever enough otherwise you wouldn’t be here, chained up.”

“Ambushing someone with a tranquiliser gun the moment they step outside is hardly the height of cunning,” he replied haughtily.

“I beg to differ. We’ve been getting away with this for years and no one’s any the wiser.”

“The police are onto you and it’s only a matter of time before they find this place. Your sick games are over.”

“I don’t think so. The police don’t have a clue. Neither do those fucking orangutans you were working with to try and find us. This is where you’re going to die,” he said, spreading his hands wide to indicate the room. “Do you like it? I created it myself. It’s an old maintenance shed, been here for years. Everyone forgot about it, but I didn’t. I adapted it for our purposes, made it more comfortable. I’ve been a Dartmoor ranger a long time and no one knows this land like me. You won’t die in here exactly. Your death will come outside with the wind on your face and the moon shining down on you as we gut you while you’re still alive and able to feel, gutted like an animal.”

“Daniel Tebbs worked as a ranger,” said Ryan.

“Briefly. I helped train him up. I saw his potential immediately.”

Ryan thought of the bullet wound in Daniel’s head and took in their camouflage gear. “Potential for what? To be run down and hunted like game, is that what you’re doing here?”

Actaeon nodded, puffing up with pride.

“And how do you select your victims?”

“You sound genuinely interested.”

“I am.”

“I bet you’ve never encountered specimens like us before? Living, breathing gods?”

“On the contrary I’ve met lots of dirty little murderers with god complexes but they all killed for a reason, usually business. Not because they enjoyed it.” He thought of Frankie McVay. “Well, apart from one. He killed people for the fun of it and cut bits off them to mount on his trophy wall, just like you. Do you want to know what happened to him?”

“I can’t wait to hear,” said Actaeon flatly.

“I killed him,” snarled Ryan.

Actaeon released a loud clap of laughter and looked to Orion, who laughed along with him, although he didn’t seem to understand what the joke was.

“You see what we have here Orion?” boomed Actaeon. “We’ve caught ourselves a fellow hunter. This is going to be the best fucking hunt ever. At last, a real challenge.” Abruptly he stopped laughing and tilted his head to one side, pushing his baseball cap back off his forehead. “You can’t be much of a hunter if you let yourself get caught so easily.”

“The tranquiliser rifle hidden in the bushes tipped the balance in your favour,” retorted Ryan. “Remove the chains and I’ll take you both on at once, without weapons. Then let’s see who ends up unconscious on the floor.”

“See, I was right,” Actaeon grinned at Orion. When he turned back to Ryan his smile fell. “But you’re getting a bit too mouthy for my liking. Prey should be quiet and quivering, awaiting their inevitable death.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“That is bad behaviour. You will control yourself. On your feet.”

“No.”

“On your feet,” Actaeon bellowed in his face.

Ryan’s lips curled contemptuously. “No.”

When a roar of rage ripped from Actaeon’s throat and he kicked a bucket across the room, Ryan laughed.

“You think this is funny?” yelled Orion.

“I find you both ridiculous, preening creatures. Inadequate rodents pretending to be lions.”

Incensed, Orion drew back his arm to strike him. Ryan lifted his chin in challenge, eyes mocking.

Actaeon stopped his partner. “No. We need our prey fighting fit otherwise there’s no fun in the chase. There are other ways to subdue him.”

Orion nodded and took a deep breath, the folds of his flesh wobbling. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright old friend. Go to the corner and watch and learn.”

Obediently Orion nodded and moved to the corner of the room, standing beneath the pair of severed hands, the fingers splayed out, making them look like bizarre fans.

“Your wife is very lovely Ryan,” began Actaeon, pacing back and forth. “How would you like us to hunt her too?”

The chains clanked loudly as Ryan’s muscles tensed, yanking them so hard the cuffs dug into the flesh of his arms. “You’ll fucking leave her alone,” he roared.

“We could kill her quickly,” he continued. “A crossbow bolt to the head. That would be quite entertaining, but it wouldn’t really satisfy our hunting instincts. We could shoot her with the tranquiliser gun like we did you, bring her here and let her loose on the moor, that’s after we took turns raping her right in front of you.”