Chapter 1
It's mid-evening and the rain is lashing down. Denton Oliver is parked in a lay-by stroking his cock. His phone is propped up on the dashboard with a live feed of the cameras placed inside the illegal brothel playing and Denton is getting frustrated. Less and less, the thrill of jacking off at work is exciting him. His cock is semi-hard at best, and the girl being railed on the phone is just not exciting him. Mid scream, the girl is cut off when a notification pops up and announces Denton has an incoming call. With annoyance, he minimises the video and answers.
"Denton, what is it?" he snaps down the phone.
"Sorry to bother you sir, but we have a possible violent incident in your location." It was Debbie from the switchboard. Denton had thought about bending her over the desk a few times, she always wore such tight skirts that revealed every contour of her legs and arse. "The caller was vague about the details but sounds like a woman in distress, are you available?"
Denton is too busy imagining Debbie's thighs to pay much attention as his stroke rate increases. "Yeah I guess so, what's the address?" he grunts with effort.
"It's on Lower Park Road sir, I will send the address to your sat-nav now," Debbie sounds eager to get off the line after hearing Denton's heavy breathing.
"OK Debs, fuck you later," Denton says
"Sorry sir?" a confused Debbie asks
"I said see you later," Denton replies adding "You and those beautiful tits of yours," under his breath.
As Debbie rings off, Denton furiously resumes imagining Debs' face on the girl in the video. Suddenly a light blinds the rear-view mirror and Denton reaches his hand up over his eyes. The light grows stronger and then as disappears a marked police car flies past. Denton sighs and looks in the mirror to see if there are any more cars coming. That's when he catches sight of himself. He sees a 45-year-old man with bloodshot eyes looking back at him. But the red is offset by the sparkling blue irises that reside behind the glaze. He notices the stubble and wonders when was the last time he shaved? Yesterday? Who cares?
"For fucks sake," he thinks looking down at his now flaccid cock. He zips himself up and reluctantly tries to get his sat-nav to connect. The screen lights up and the spinning wheel begins its endless journey around and around.
He reaches for the passenger seat where the half-empty bottle of scotch sits happily enjoying the rainfall pattering on the car roof. He opens the bottle and swigs deeply. With each swig, his memory is bombarded with a haze and he is reminded less and less about the state his life has become. He sits back and puffs up his cheeks before blowing out, slowly releasing some of the tension.
He glances down at the sat-nav screen to see a message confirming a signal has been detected. He confirms the address and a robotic voice tells him to "do a U-turn and the next safe opportunity". Of course, the fucking place is behind me, probably where that marked car came from he thinks, the realisation clearing some of the fog.
He adjusts in his seat to try releasing some of the pressure on his lower back and starts the car. Turning the wheel the car spins around and Denton guns it down the road.
The robot sat-nav voice has an annoyingly shrill quality to it and Denton is relieved when, about 25 minutes later, it finally announces "you have arrived at your destination." He pulls the car over behind another marked police car on the pavement and looks over the property.
From the outside, it was a traditional two up two down semi-detached property. The walls have a brick finish and there is a small garden outside. The front door is standing open with a wet-looking PC guarding the entrance and to the right is a window with a light shining out illuminating the grass outside. The window has a hole in the middle about the size of a brick from which a spider web of cracks cascades off.
Denton prepares himself and steps out of the car. Pulling his coat above his head to try and shield some of the rain he runs down the pathway and flashes his warrant card to the guard entering the property.
Chapter 2
Making his way through the entrance corridor into the living area of the house, Denton is greeted by an orgy of Ikea furniture. Every piece of furniture is either white or beige. Looking through to the kitchen a WPC is consoling a girl at the dining table.
The girl looks to be in her late 20s just over 5ft with long blonde hair. She looks ready to go out clubbing, dressed in a short black skirt, a low-cut top that exposes her midriff, and a pair of black knee-high boots. Denton looks her over and suddenly feels awkward at his dishevelled appearance.
The WPC stands up and greets Denton in the living room. "Hello sir, I'm PC Iverson what have you been told so far?"
"Not much," Denton admitted, "possible violent incident, is this the woman who phoned it in?"
"Yes sir, this is Suzy Bates, the owner of the property," Iverson motions towards the girl in the kitchen. "Phone call came in a few hours ago that a brick had been put through her window, we respond and find the place pretty much like this. SOCO has been through so just waiting on a detective to interview the Vic."
Denton nods thoughtfully, "OK your here to be my backup, yeah?"
"Yes sir, whenever your ready." Iverson looks unhappy about her task but professional enough to carry on regardless. Denton knows babysitting a victim whilst he asks mundane questions is never high on anyone's list of fun jobs for an evening.
"OK Iverson, go hang out with Suzy and I will be in soon, I just want to have a quick look around first."
Iverson nods and heads back towards the kitchen.
Denton begins a cursory examination of the living area, it's a pretty standard affair, a three-piece suite made up of two sofas and an armchair, TV, generic artwork, it's like the place came straight out of a catalogue of blandness. The only thing of note was the hole in the window, Denton wanders over to take a closer look.
Underneath the window is an armchair that looks to have survived the smashing unscathed, a brick is lying on the floor but there is no glass anywhere. Maybe SOCO took it? Denton postulated. The brick was a standard affair, probably the same type this and all the houses on the street were made from. With nothing else to see Denton makes his way into the kitchen.
Entering the kitchen, Denton had to revise his earlier estimate about Suzy Bates. This girl could not have been even 25 yet. She doesn't seem unduly distressed by the incident and is smiling as he walks in. Her smile takes Denton back a few decades to when he would finish a rugby match and similar girls in bars would pay him all the attention he could handle. Though she is smiling, this girl has a glint in her eye that tells him something else is lying behind the expression fixed to her face.
"Miss Bates?" Denton asked rhetorically
