This is a crime thriller with some romantic sex, a smidgeon of violent non consensual sex and interesting by-play between various characters whom I hope you'll enjoy reading about.
It has ten chapters, and I do hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Definition of a Sociopath -- someone unconcerned about the adverse consequences for others of one's actions and with a total lack of moral compass.
*
He stood panting, feet wide apart, staring down at the sprawled out figure of the woman at his feet. The blood from the wound on her head seeped into the dirty floorboards lying under her body and her dirty muddy once blond hair lay matted across her face hiding her thin undernourished features. Torn ragged clothes lay pulled up on her body revealing her sex, the bruises around that area starting to form where he had placed his knee earlier to keep her still as he hit her to keep her pliant before he raped her.
Zipping up the flies on his torn and dirty jeans and hearing her moan he spat down on the woman as she lay there. Contemptuous and feeling no sympathy for her plight he turned to walk out of the empty condemned building in the dark and deserted backstreet of the East End of London where he had led her only half an hour before, telling her that he knew of a good place to bed down for the night, with cover and warmth away from the harshly cold English winter weather. Pulling the old dirty overcoat that he had found weeks ago in a skip at the side of the road discarded by its previous owner tighter around himself, he looked out into the unlit street checking to see if anybody was around in this godforsaken area. Seeing that there was no-one to witness him, he stepped from behind the sheet of hardboard nailed across the entrance and that he had jemmied loose earlier in preparation for tonight's assault.
Pulling the dark grey woollen hat further down on his head so that with the collar of the overcoat turned up and the head covering pulled down if he came across anyone it would be impossible for them to see much of his face and make identification at a later date.
Deliberately walking along as if he was drunk, he made his way a couple of blocks and slipped in behind the public toilets and into the hedge where he had stashed the bag containing his change of clothes. Making sure there was no-one in the men's toilet he walked in, his booted feet squishing in the urine that had escaped from the broken cracked urinals, and made his way into one of the cubicles where after he locked the door, proceeded to remove the dirty old clothes. The torn jeans, old coat, woollen hat, black tee shirt all came off and unzipping the leather holdall he removed the wet wipes that sat at the top of the neatly folded clean clothes and wiped the grime off his body and hands before flushing the small cleaning cloths down the pan.
The man who ten minutes after he had entered the stone and tiled public urinal came out now dressed in smart designer jeans, blue cashmere sweater, leather jacket and expensive trainers, the leather bag with the discarded clothes clutched in his hand. The only reminder of how he entered a slight sour smell emanating from the soles of his trainers where he had stepped in an ever spreading puddle of pee as he had left the cubicle, making him stop to wipe his feet against the patchy grass on the street verge outside in an effort to remove the residue from the leather.
Swearing to himself he continued to make his way along the road, walking at a jaunty pace until he reached the bridge by the canal, and leaning over he dropped the bag into the dark and deep water, watching it as at first it bobbed along and then slowly sank without a trace, removing any evidence of the homeless person that he had pretended to be earlier.
Taking a deep breath of the cold night air to clear the smell out of his lungs he continued to walk across the road until he reached his car, and pressing the key fob so that the doors unlocked he climbed in, started the engine with a roar and pulled out, making his way home.
*
The demolition crew arrived early the next morning at the site of the old warehouse that was to be annihilated making way along with the rest of the empty and rundown buildings on the block for the new shopping mall. Trucks, excavators, rubble masters and men swarmed the area preparing to work on the buildings and flatten the area on schedule.
The foreman, Will Stephens stood in his yellow hard hat yelling out instruction to the crew, and men placed barriers at each end of the street stopping pedestrians and vehicles from entering for safety reasons. Striding towards the front door of the first old house at the end of the street Will asked a member of the crew nearest him, "Has the check been made on the buildings to make sure they're empty?"
"Nah.....not yet.....I'll get a few of the men to make a quick run through them to check."
"Get it done.....I want to get started within the next half hour.....if there are any squatters in there, move them out fast...I don't care how. Just get them out."
Shouting at a group of the men and waving them over, instructions were given to go in, check for any sign of people that might be using the derelict buildings for shelter, and throw them out to behind the safety barriers as quickly as possible.
Jemmying the nailed up boarded door of a house demolition worker Mike Edwards stepped in and walking through the sad damp shell that once had been someone's home moved from room to room looking for any sign of life. Finding none he moved to the next house in the small terrace, repeating his check. Finally at the end of the street he came to the small warehouse and grabbing the edges of the slightly gapping hardboard that was nailed covering the front door he yanked, opening up the entrance to the building wide enough for his large tall and well muscled body to go through.
Walking into the old reception area he kicked at the old fallen faux pare torn leather sofa that had once held visitors to the business before walking up the four steps into what was an old corridor, and turning left into the first room stopped dead at what he saw.
"Oh sweet Jesus......!"
Running over to the prone body of the woman he knelt down feeling her neck for a pulse whilst shouting, "Hey.......in here....somebody quick.....in here."
Will heard his shouts as he stood just outside the entrance to the old warehouse and manoeuvring himself through the crack that was left between the entrances way shouted, "What?"
"In here.....there's a girl.....I think she's alive....."
Rushing in Will followed the sound of Mikes voice and stood in the doorway of the room staring at the sight that was before him. "She alive?"
"Yeah....just....get an ambulance and the Police......it looks like rape."
Picking up the cell phone from his belt holder Will dialled 999 whilst saying to Mike, "You think she's another one? One of the Homeless Rapist victims?"
Looking up, his face drained of blood, his eyes reflecting the horror of what he had found Mike just nodded. This would make five so far this year, all homeless women found raped around the city, all left unconscious. Listening to Will speak to the emergency services on the phone he looked down at the victim. Young, somewhere in her early twenties she lay, her lashes laying curved on closed eyes, her dirty blond hair framing a pretty face, his heart broke for her. She was not so different in age and looks to his fiancé, the only difference the breaks life had dealt her. So obviously homeless and now raped and left to die in this godforsaken place.
Life was so unfair for some.
*
Jake Conway sat at his desk, his feet up on the chair next to him, the phone clamped to his ear, his dark blue tie loosened around his neck, shirt collar open. He was on hold. He had been on hold for most of the morning with the handset pressed to his ear waiting.
Bureaucrats.
How he hated them. They made his job a nightmare.
A detective on the Homeless Rapist squad investigating the string of rapes of the young homeless women that had occurred over the past eight months he was trying to establish where the last victim Susan Selby had last lived, why and when she had left. Still in a coma two weeks after the attack that she had endured at the hands of the rapist, the nineteen year olds life hung in the balance. Jake was trying to find some kind of timeline as to her movements and where she had been bedding down. Also if he could find some family member to be at the young woman's bedside when she came around.
If she came around!
But with very little luck and the closed ranks of the homeless refusing to help the squad out of fear and distrust it was not going well. And now he sat hanging on whilst the officious Social Services woman went off searching for someone of higher authority before she would pass on the information he required.
Glancing up he smiled across the room at the female detective who also sat at her desk, phone clasped to her ear, chasing up other information that might help them to move this damn investigation closer to catching the bastard that was doing this.
