Blood Red Ford - PAPERBACK - Detective Loxley Crime Thriller Book 5

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1

Today had just been one of those days. From the moment Roxy had walked in, the shit had started hitting the fan. But then, weren’t all office days like that? The flexible shift pattern she’d taken advantage of had been amazing. Working from home had made life so much easier, and she’d actually been getting more done as a result.
It was a win-win as far as she was concerned.
And yet, the company seemed reluctant to let them keep their new freedom. They were constantly pushing for them to spend more time in the office in spite of the increased productivity.
The company was rooted in the past, when the only way for people to work was for them to be in the building, day in, day out.
For now, the faceless bosses, further up the chain of command, were satisfied with her coming in once a week on average to show her face and act like a good little employee.
But, as usual, those days were filled with far more crap than any other day. Because she was there and available, she’d end up bogged down in pointless requests, comments and complaints that kept her from doing what she needed to do so that tomorrow, she’d need to spend the day catching up.
That was just Roxy’s routine these days, and today had been no different. She’d ended the day with a splitting headache and the need for a stiff drink. Luckily for her, she’d had an evening out with the girls planned for a while now, and tonight was the night, the perfect night, for it to take place.
The drive into Newark was easy enough, and as darkness fell, she drove past others out on the town. Friends and lovers enjoying their evenings with drinks and good food.
She was looking forward to this and pushed on, driving deeper into Newark, heading for the St Marks Place multi-storey car park, which was not too far from where she’d arranged to meet her friends.
She navigated her way through the streets, past glowing traffic lights and looming buildings, watching the people around her, wondering what was going on in their lives and drawing conclusions from the brief glimpses she caught of them.
An old man, hunched and frail, hurried home. A gaggle of young women in their party best, accessorized with sashes and fluffy headbands, celebrated their friend’s hen night. A homeless man was sitting on the side of the pavement, wrapped in layers of clothing with all hope absent from his eyes, and a group of young men and women were posing for a selfie as one held out their phone.
Roxy frowned, remembering an odd incident from the morning. She’d walked into the office, and noticed a man with his phone out, apparently filming or taking photos of her. She wasn’t sure which.
The man had seemed oblivious as she’d glared and continued on regardless until she’d moved out of sight. It had freaked her out at the time, but she’d soon forgotten it as she’d got into the routine of the day.
It was only now, after seeing the group taking a selfie, that she’d remembered. She’d not seen the man again and had come to the conclusion it was just one of those odd things that she’d never have an explanation for and moved on.
But not before possibly linking it back to her old boss and the debacle that her dalliance with him had conjured from nothing.
But that was four years ago now.
Realising she was closing in on her destination, she guided her car up the entry ramp and into the car park. Finding a space she felt confident driving into, she flicked the indicator on. A swift manoeuvre later, she turned the engine off, satisfied with her parking.
She checked herself quickly in the mirror before grabbing her bag and climbing out into the chill evening air. Glancing around the multi-storey that surrounded her, Roxy peered into the shadows attempting to orientate herself and figure out the quietest and safest route to the street.
This level of the car park seemed quiet, and when she locked her car, the cha-thunk of the locks slamming home echoed around her.
Tyres squealed, and an engine roared.
She turned. A large Transit van careened round the corner onto her level. It raced towards where she’d parked.
Roxy hung back to let it pass and busied herself with her car door, making sure it was locked. She didn’t want anyone nicking it. With her phone in her other hand, she opened WhatsApp to check on the group chat with her friends and let them know where she was.
The van skidded to a stop right next to her, its side door sliding open. Three men jumped out before it even came to a rest and rushed towards her.
“Get her.”
Roxy screamed. The lead man grabbed her head and slammed it into her car. Light flashed behind her eyes, cutting her scream short. Intense pain bloomed as the hit rattled her brain. All strength left her legs, and she started to crumple.
“Roon, a little help?” the lead man snapped. He ripped the phone from Roxy’s hand and threw it to the floor.
“I’m here.”
“Blood? Do your job.”
“I am. I’m doing it.”
The men crowded around, catching her before she hit the floor. Realising what they were doing, she tore herself out of the daze, doing her best to ignore the intense pain that rang through her head, and yelled.
“No. Aaargh, no,” she cried. “Let me go. Help. Help me.”
“Shut up.”
A gloved hand clamped over her mouth as two of the three men hauled her towards the van. The third held his phone aloft, filming the whole thing while grinning like a hyena.
“Get her in.”
“Relax, I’m on it.”
In a moment of horror, she realised she’d seen the man filming before. It was the same one she’d seen out in the street this morning.
“You bastard.” But her shout was muffled by the thug’s gloved hand.
“I think she recognises you,” one of the men remarked as they threw her into the van.
She landed with a thud. One of them still had hold of her legs, so she kicked and fought, trying desperately to get loose.
The man who’d initially grabbed her stepped in and backhanded her across the face, snapping her head to the side. She tasted blood.
“Wait, I missed that. I need to get it all on camera.”
“Get in. We need to go.”
“All right, I’m coming.” The door slid shut with a rumble.
“Ruddy, go.”
“I’m going.”
The engine roared, and the van started to move. Roxy tried to wrench her hands free from the man’s grip, but he was too strong.
“Aaaargh, help,” she cried at the top of her lungs.
The man swung for her again and caught her on the cheek. “Shut the fuck up, will you? Gag this bitch before she blows the whole thing.”
He clamped his hand over her mouth. Moments later, they taped her mouth shut. She had a horrible gritty taste in her mouth as they tied her wrists and ankles, yanking and pulling on her arms and legs, adding to the list of aches and pains.
The whole time that the two men worked to restrain and silence her, the third man stood over them, his phone in hand, filming her. He roved the phone around, trying all kinds of angles. He seemed to be getting a perverse kind of satisfaction out of it.
Then the two men backed off, leaving her on the metal floor, feeling every bump and jolt as they drove through the night.
“All right, that’s it till we get back,” the lead thug said and pointed to something she couldn’t see. “Bag her.”
Through tearstained eyes, Roxy watched the man the first had referred to as Roon, pull out a black fabric bag and slip it over her head. The material was soft and blocked out most of the light, but she could make out light and shadows between the threads and still hear their crude banter.
Unable to move or defend herself, she concentrated on her breathing and tried to bring it under control. Her pounding heart thundered so hard she thought it might explode out of her at any moment, like that gross film about that alien thing.
She needed to regain control of herself if she wanted to escape. Being in a state of blind panic wouldn’t help at all.
“Did you get what we needed?” the main guy asked.
“Yeah,” the man who’d been filming answered. Had one of them referred to him as Blood? “Check this out.”
The tiny sound of the phone filled the van as they played back the video of her being kidnapped.
One of them laughed. “Hey, look at that. Hahaha. She’s a mess.”
“Quite the difference from this morning, hey?” Blood replied as he played another video.
It sounded like a busy street. He was playing them the video of her walk into work, and she came to a sudden and scary realisation. That this was planned. This hadn’t been a random attack, they wanted to kidnap her. She’d been chosen. But, how did they know she’d be here, tonight… Unless… She remembered being on a call with her mates as she’d walked into work, making some final arrangements. She’d told them where she’d planned on parking, meaning it was entirely possible these goons had overheard her and made their plans.
She cringed at their laughter and tried flexing her wrists and legs, attempting to free herself from the bonds until one of them kicked her side.
“Oi! Fuck about and find out, bitch. Got that?”
She lay still and kept her breaths shallow. It didn’t hurt quite so much that way.
The drive seemed to go on forever, but it was probably not much more than half an hour. The lights of passing cars shone in through the windows, visible through the hood.
Cars filled with people were going about their evenings, with no idea that the van they passed concealed a kidnapped, brutalised woman. It made her wonder how close she’d come to crimes like this? Had she walked or driven past people in similar circumstances?
Eventually, the van slowed, turned, and came to a stop. And then the engine shut off.
“We’re here,” one of the thugs called out.
There was movement all around her, making the van judder. The side door opened, and they pulled her from the van. She yelped, her voice muffled by the gag. As soon as she sensed their closeness, she lashed out, swinging her fists at them, but they grabbed her, and someone punched her in the gut.
She nearly threw up but managed to keep it down. With the gag still in place, she might have drowned had she actually vomited.
“What did I tell you? Huh? I can make this far more bloody painful for you, missy, if that’s what you want.”
Roxy clenched her teeth at the unseen thug and stopped fighting. If she was going to get out of this, she needed to conserve her energy and avoid doing anything stupid. They’d not killed her yet, and they’d had plenty of opportunity, so she doubted they’d kill her now. They wanted her for something. A ransom, maybe?
Someone lifted her from the ground, carried her a short way before entering a building. From the sound of the footsteps, they were walking over a stone floor in a smallish room. They seemed to move down some steps and into a hallway or across a long room. She wasn’t sure. All she had to go on was the sound of their footsteps and the occasional brush against a wall or doorframe. Metal clinked and scraped, and then they dropped her to the hard floor.
Roxy cursed as her bonds were released, her hood removed, and the gag ripped from her face. “Crap,” she grunted. Her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.
They’d thrown her into a dirty, grimy cell off a short corridor. Instead of a wall and door leading back into the hall, there were bars with a metal door set into them. The only light came from the bare humming bulbs in the corridor ceiling.
The thugs backed out of the cell and slammed the barred door shut before locking it with a key. The same thug as before filmed her again.
Roxy got up and scanned around in disgust. The room was about as bare as it could get, and it stank to high heaven. The only concession to comfort was a thin foam camping mattress that had seen better days, and the only other noticeable feature was a hole in the floor in one corner, which she guessed was supposed to be the toilet.
Her nostrils burned from the stench as she wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“There you go,” the lead thug said. He’d been the one to attack her first back in the car park and was easily the biggest of the four men standing outside her cell. “You should get comfortable. The Cardinal will be along soon.”
She heard his words, but she could only stare at the ugly excuse for a man with pure hatred in her eyes. As far as she was concerned, he was a pathetic waste of oxygen, and given half a chance, she’d claw his eyes out.
He smirked at her cold stare. “I know, you hate me. That’s fine. But you should make the most of this because things are only going to get worse from here on in, girl.”
“Don’t you ‘girl’ me,” she snapped. It was a stupid thing to say, but in her simmering rage, it was all she could think of.
“Ho-hooo, feisty.”
The other guys mocked her, too. “Damn, girl, coming out with the zingers.”
She felt about two feet tall.
“I tell yeh, it’s a shame, it really is. You’re a looker. Aaah well, can’t be helped.” The man turned and ushered the other men back up the corridor.
In sudden blind panic, Roxy rushed to the bars. “Wait.” She reached for him, but he was just out of reach. Fear and desperation clawed at her mind. “Please. You can’t leave me here. You can let me go. You don’t have to do this. This Cardinal doesn’t need to know. I’ll do anything. I’ll do whatever you want. Just let me go.”
The man paused and looked back at her, a hint of pity in his face. He smiled and shook his head. “If I had a hundred pounds for every time someone said that to me…” He sighed. “Babe. You’re hot, and under normal circumstances, I might well take you up on that offer. We all might have.” He took a step closer. “But honestly, it’s just not worth it.” He smiled again. “I’d try to get some rest if I were you.”
With that, the man turned and followed his men back up the corridor and around the bend, laughing at her offer while making crude comments and suggestions.
Roxy cursed quietly to herself as she turned back to the cell and the dirty mattress. Frankly, the place looked riddled with disease, and the thought of sleeping here and using that poor excuse for a toilet sent a shiver up her spine.
How the hell had this happened? How had she ended up here, of all places?
Sleep? She scoffed at the thug’s suggestion of getting some rest. Her body brimmed with nervous energy as she desperately hunted around for anything that might help her escape.
She couldn’t stay here. She had to get out. She had to escape.
But how?