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CHAPTER THIRTY - Retracing Steps

The following day … Sunday 16th April…

8:00 am

Dr. Gabriel Lang set off for Carrowbank Farm. Even though today was a Sunday he remained a very busy man. However, he was determined to get things done; he wanted to re-live the statement made to the police by Georgina Watkinson.
Nothing seemed to add up. Georgina Watkinson was one of the doctor’s patients, and after several therapy sessions he thought he knew her well: But obviously not that well if she was capable of tracking down a suspect all on her own and with very little to go on.
There were few other things that puzzled the doctor too. Where for instance did all the extra clues come from? The diary from the hospital reception desk for example: Who spotted the entries that linked Roger Downton with his visits to London on the days the girls disappeared? Then there was the link between Roger Downton and his Mercedes car? The girl that spotted the car came from a university in London, yet this was traced back to an owner in Littlesea and reported from here. Nothing seemed to make sense.
All these factors put together convinced the doctor that there was more to this investigation than first met the eye. Someone, or most likely a group of persons, must have been involved, and he was almost sure that he knew who those persons might be. Four of them to be exact. But firstly he wanted to check on the evidence given by Georgina Watkinson at first hand. He was going for a walk in the countryside in order to verify her statement. All these things were churning over in the doctor’s mind as he drove out of Littlesea and set off for the village of Carrowton.
Unlike the previous day, with its squally showers, the weather on this particular morning was fine and bright. The cold front that had wreaked havoc over the past twenty-four hours was now reportedly somewhere over Scotland. As the doctor approached Carrowton the sun was shining brightly, the birds were singing, and the temperature more in season with Spring.
As the doctor passed through the village the bells of Carrowton church were in full peal. Today was Easter Sunday. Soon a congregation would be gathering at the little church. There were ceremonies too in the hospital chapel and he had a duty to attend. He needed to be back at the hospital for ten o’clock. For a brief moment he reflected on the busy life he led, then re-tuned his mind to the matter at hand.
Dr. Lang pulled up his Land Rover in the courtyard next to the old farm house and got out. Chickens, apparently oblivious to the doctor, and now fending for themselves, clucked and pecked the ground all about him. Over on the other side of the courtyard stood the tall barn from which Godfrey Brookes and Mimi had fallen. The section of roof which had once projected out into the courtyard was gone and the wreckage beneath taken away. Now no evidence remained to suggest what happened on that fateful day.
The doctor took out a copy of Georgina’s statement from an overall pocket and reminded himself of what was said. He then changed his shoes for wellington boots and set off for the neighbouring barn. According to the statement, inside the barn he would find items of imprisonment and torture.
Dr. Lang entered the barn in question and looked about him. Mostly there were crates. He moved to the nearest crate and read a label stuck on the lid. It read: ‘Property of Littlesea Amusement Park, Waxworks and Museum - Lot No. 495’.
The doctor moved on. All the crates had similar labels, and all had ‘Lot Numbers’ assigned to them. He was looking for ‘stocks and pillory’ as described by Georgina in her statement. He eventually spotted them tucked away in a corner. He made his way towards them, zigzagging between the crates. On arrival he found a pair of broken down old props once used as museum exhibits. They were ascribed as ‘Lot Numbers 1067’ and ‘1068’ respectively. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then shook his head. This was hardly incriminating evidence, and certainly gave no suggestion that Roger Downton was a perverted sex fiend. He concluded Georgina’s statement on this point to be dubious at the least.
With very little else to see, Dr. Lang returned to the courtyard. Here he reminded himself of the second part of Georgina’s statement. She had reportedly found a copy of a newsletter published by an organisation called Cropwatch nailed to a post alongside the old disused railway track. On the front of that newsletter was a photograph. Both Gayle Jackson and Sylvia Sparelli, the two missing girls, were on that photograph, and this, according to Georgina, was what led her in the first place to believe that Roger Downton was the culprit.
Leaving his Land Rover behind, the doctor set off on foot. From the farm there was a shortcut to the spot where the newsletter was found. This was to traverse the nearest meadow and then cross over the railway embankment to the road that ran alongside.
The doctor set off with this in mind, then quickly changed his mind.
Taking the shortcut was wrong. He was more interested in following Georgina’s stated route, and wondered why she would bother to walk the long way round in the first place? Somehow he felt this to be an odd thing for her to be doing, especially on her own.
Taking everything into account there remained three things that puzzled the doctor: Three things that did not ring right. One; why she even decided to take the walk in the first place? Two; why she went alone? And three; why she got there taking the longest route?
The doctor changed direction and set off down the long pot-holed drive from the farm to the road. He then turned left and started walking towards the distant chalk hills. At the beginning of his walk the old railway line was beneath road level and passed under a bridge on the track to the farm. After that the old line climbed more steeply than the road, until after a mile or so the beginnings of an embankment started to appear. By the time a second mile was reached the embankment was quite high, and about half a mile later the line came face to face with a steep sided hill. At this point the line entered a tunnel. Beyond this point it was the road’s turn to rise steeply. It wound its way up the hillside, crossed over the tunnel entrance a good distance above, then followed the contours of the hill along the edge of a steep sided valley cut by the River Carrow.
At about the two mile point the doctor observed the decaying posts and cross-rails that once protected the public from the railway line. Now there were large sections missing, whilst other stretches were engulfed in a tangle of brambles. The doctor was hoping to find a newsletter pinned to one of the posts but could see nothing.
At a point in the embankment that looked worn by the trampling of feet, the doctor scrambled to the top. He looked around. He recalled the meadow beyond the embankment being a dancing sea of yellow. Now the oil-seed rape crop was flattened, decayed and brown. Flattened according to Georgina’s statement by the people from Cropwatch, and thus the reason for Roger Downton’s retribution.
The sight sadden the doctor. He knew this field once to be Godfrey’s pride and joy. It was a departure in farming methods for Godfrey, with a change from pig rearing to agriculture. He reflected on how drastically things had changed since the death of the much loved farmer.
Dr. Lang’s concentration returned to the matter at hand, and the embankment and the old railway line upon which he stood. He recalled that he had been here once before when out walking with Godfrey Brookes. On that occasion they had ambled together along the old railway track as far as the tunnel entrance before turning back for the farm. He turned to face the old tunnel which was about one hundred metres further on. It was boarded up as he remembered, but a glint of light caught his eye. As far as he could recall everything at the entrance was old and rusty; and nothing was present that would glitter in such a manner.
Out of curiosity the doctor set off for the tunnel entrance. He stopped in front of a small access door that was the entrance to the tunnel and immediately spotted the reason for the flashes of reflected sunlight. A brand new padlock now sealed the door. Thinking back he recalled that several of the corrugated steel panels were coming loose. He tested the panels. Every loose corner had been repaired. The tunnel had been resealed.
The doctor scratched his head. ‘Who would have done this?’ he was thinking.
There was one more thing that looked suspiciously odd. Low down, and positioned right in the bottom corner of the corrugated steel sheeting, a round hole had been cut; and from that hole protruded the end of a small exhaust pipe.
The doctor moved to the edge of the tunnel and bent down to investigate. The hole was small and it was difficult to see inside, but he got the impression that a small electrical generator lay on the other side. Intrigued by his findings, he tried to loosen a panel, but everything held solid; the door too was well sealed. Without a crowbar or the necessary tools there was no way in.
Having no luck Dr. Lang turned his back on the tunnel and set off back to Carrowbank Farm. He now had a further mystery to solve. Roger Downton had remained in charge of the farm since Godfrey’s death. It was most likely he had sealed the entrance and set up the generator. But for what purpose? He decided to put the riddle to Mimi on his return to the hospital.
As for his other dilemma, and the prime reason for this visit, he had come to the conclusion that Georgina’s story was a complete fabrication. Knowing her the way he did, there was no way she would have made the walk he had just undertaken, (if she made it at all!), without the collaboration of others. It was not the sort of walk anyone would make without prior forethought and without a specific purpose in mind.

10:00 am

Back on Castle Point, Tracy climbed the slope from her home to the castle. As she walked she looked to her watch. The time was exactly ten o’clock. She turned her attention to the road. She could hear a car coming up the hill from the dunes below. As she reached a bench that overlooked the cliffs the car pulled into the small car park alongside the castle. It was Davina’s car, she was at the wheel, and seated in the passenger seat was Georgina.
The three girls met at the bench. They hugged and kissed then sat down; Davina in the middle, Tracy to her left and Georgina to her right. It was time for another meeting of the Pact. The fourth member of the Pact, Wendy Bartlett, was missing, but that could not be helped. She was off somewhere with her new found boyfriend and could not be traced.
Davina and Georgina looked to Tracy. It was Tracy that had called this meeting and they were keen to know why.
Tracy opened up the conversation.
“Right girls, the problem is this,” she began, “whilst I was in London I met up again with Chloe Chambers,… the girl that was with Gayle Jackson just before she disappeared,… and she told me some interesting things.”
Davina and Georgina were all ears.
“What interesting things?” asked Davina.
Tracy turned herself round on the bench a little more so as to face the other two girls more squarely.
She began to relate her story: “Chloe Chambers was asked by the police to give a second interview,… she told me the police were having difficulty in making the evidence stick… they said Chloe held the one vital piece of evidence that would prove it was Roger Downton once and for all… they reckon the link between the Mercedes car seen parked up alongside the park and Roger Downton is a vital piece of evidence… if only they could prove it was Roger’s car then they had a cast-iron case… Chloe remains convinced that it was Roger’s Mercedes, but the trouble is she just can’t remember why… she says she saw something on the back seat she knew for definite belonged to Roger Downton,… but for the life of her she just could not remember what it was… she says her mind has gone totally blank on the matter.”
Both Davina and Georgina looked thoughtful at the bad news. They were aware of the Mercedes link. Chloe Chambers and Gayle Jackson had walked from the university to a BDSM club that evening. According to Chloe they had stopped momentarily alongside a Mercedes and remarked about it being Roger’s car. It was this link in the first instance, and the fact that they were looking for an amateur photographer from Littlesea that eventually led them to Roger Downton.
“So no link with the Mercedes, then no proof and no case?” said Georgina and summing everything up in a nutshell.
Tracy nodded her head.
“That’s about it Georgina,” she confirmed.
It was Davina’s turn to say something.
“What we going to do about it then?” she asked.
All three girls looked to each other.
“I guess we’ve somehow got to make Chloe remember what it was he saw on that back seat,” said Georgina thoughtfully.
The other two girls nodded in agreement.
“But how?” asked Tracy.
Davina did a little thinking.
“Tracy, you’ve got to go back to London,” she told her. “Do you think you could track down Chloe Chambers again?”
Tracy nodded her head. Chloe was staying at the university, but she did not want to reveal this. Their new found personal relationship was an intimate secret.
“I know where to find her,” she confirmed and left it at that.
Davina gave a little thoughtful nod of her head.
“Good,” she said, “then I suggest you go back to London,… find this Chloe Chambers and somehow get her to do that walk again… perhaps walking the same route and pointing out where the car was parked might jog her memory… it’s worth a try anyway.”
Tracy agreed. Why didn’t she think of that before? It would have saved a journey back to Littlesea. But then again, that was what the Pact was all about. The interchange of ideas, and the closeness of them all. This is what made the Pact work.
“I’ll pack a few things and get going back to London then,” Tracy told the other two girls.
Georgina and Davina did not disagree.
“Best of luck then Tracy,” wished Georgina, “and keep in touch. Any trouble and we’ll be along.”
“And from me too, best of luck Tracy,” echoed Davina.
All three girls rose from the bench, locked hands, and said in unison: “To the Pact.”
The meeting was closed. Davina and Georgina returned to the car, and Tracy hurried off down the slope. She was on her way back to London. There was joy in her heart. She was off to see Chloe again.

11:30 am

Dr. Lang walked out from the little hospital chapel pushing a wheelchair. Sat in the wheelchair was Mimi. They had just attended the Easter Sunday Service together. The sun was shining brightly and the day was warming up. Along the path between the chapel and the hospital block were Mimi was staying there was a bench amongst the rose bushes. The doctor sat down and turned the wheelchair round so as to face him. It was time to put a few questions to Mimi.
“Mimi,” he started, “I took a walk this morning,.. I went back to Carrowbank Farm and followed the old railway line as far as the tunnel… I’d been there once before with Godfrey,… the place was dilapidated and falling down then… now everything’s been repaired and there’s a generator inside,… Mimi, what’s been happening?”
Mimi was fully aware of the changes. The tunnel had been used for photographic purposes. Roger had taken photographs, and she and Chloe had been the models. As far as she was concerned there were no mysteries involved, nor any secrets to hide. She told it straight and without embarrassment.
“Roger repaired the tunnel entrance,” she told the doctor, “he also installed the generator so that we could have lighting… we used the tunnel as a setting for some photographic modelling.”
The doctor was curious. He considered an old disused railway tunnel to be a strange setting for any photographic modelling.
“What sort of modelling?” he asked.
Mimi gave a wry little smile. She was not sure how much the doctor knew about her modelling past. She let him have it straight.
“Bondage and S&M modelling,” she announced, “Roger was taking photographs of us for BDSM magazines… the tunnel made an ideal dungeon setting, so we used it.”
Dr. Lang thought for a moment. Mimi’s answer had included others.
“Us?” he asked, “you said photographs of us. Who else modelled with you?”
Mimi considered whether Chloe should be mentioned by name. After all she was only a student at university and might not want to get involved. She concluded that it did not matter. Chloe was a professional and hundreds of her photographs were in under-the-counter magazines anyway.
“A girl called Chloe Chambers modelled with me most of the time,” she revealed, “She’s a student at university… Roger never took any money… he gave all his income to us and we shared it out… Chloe got most of it, she needed the money and was grateful for every penny she could get.”
Dr. Lang rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He was starting to get a clearer picture. Chloe Chambers had been mentioned several times in the great pile of statements passed to him by Inspector Hawkins. There was also a re-occurring BDSM theme that needed to be considered. Chloe Chambers had walked to a BDSM club with Gayle Jackson the night she disappeared. There was also a reported sighting of Roger Downton’s car being close to the scene of the crime. He could now see the link between Roger Downton and Chloe Chambers, and how she was able to recognised his car.
The doctor also remained curious about the tunnel. Why hadn’t the police picked it up? Nowhere, in over one hundred pages of statements, was there a mention of the tunnel? He was thinking there was something suspicious going on here, and that perhaps another visit was on the cards.
“How can I get inside the tunnel?” he asked, “who’s got the keys?”
Mimi shook her head.
“Roger has the keys,” she told him. “I wouldn’t know where to find them.”
The doctor considered breaking into the tunnel, but Mimi had another thought and interjected. She had been on a walk once before, with Roger and Chloe, and they had visited the far end of the tunnel. The boarding was falling down and it was easy just to step inside.
“There’s an opening at the other end of the tunnel you could use,” Mimi told the doctor. “We all went there once on a walk and you can step straight inside.”
Dr. Lang considered the alternative. Perhaps stealth was the better option than breaking down steel panels. However, he decided to leave this decision until later. But whatever choice was made, first thing tomorrow morning he would be back at the tunnel. But for now he had other things to attend to; he was a very busy man and duty called.
The doctor rose to his feet and took hold of the handles of Mimi’s wheelchair.
“Come on Mimi, best be getting you back to your room,” he told her, “it’ll be lunch time soon.”
The doctor set off pushing the wheelchair along the path towards the towering hospital block where Mimi was staying. He was deep in thought and starting to get a fuller picture now. The trouble was, it was getting him no closer to finding the missing girls, nor to proving Roger’s innocence.

12:00 noon

Mrs. Trubshaw, landlady of the Shoulder of Mutton Inn at Muddle Morton was getting concerned. It was noon and time to tidy the guest’s room, but the bed had not been slept in. She had not seen her guests from Room One since yesterday lunch time. She had packed a few things for a picnic and watched them set off. Since then they had not been seen, neither at dinner last night, nor at breakfast this morning.
 She looked out of the bedroom window to the small car park alongside the country inn. A bright red sports cars belonging to the couple remained parked outside.
Mrs. Trubshaw rubbed her chin thoughtfully. She would wait until tonight before taking any action. If they failed to turn up for their evening meal, then she would do something about it.

3:00 pm

Tracy entered the grounds to the university. The gates were open and no one was around. The large car park held but a few cars and she pulled up in the nearest spot available. Leaving her travel bag in the car she made her way to the students’ Hall of Residence. Her fingers were crossed in the hope that she would find Chloe in her room.
She rapped lightly on the door. She heard movement from inside and the door opened. The occupant saw Tracy and her face beamed with delight.
“Tracy!” she exclaimed.
Tracy stepped into the room and gave Chloe a huge hug.
“I’m back Chloe… I just couldn’t leave you,” she told her.
They kissed hard and long. Locked in embrace, Tracy moved into the room and pushed the door shut with a foot. She and Chloe had some important business to conclude before getting down to talk of Roger Downton and Mercedes cars. They were both clean shaven now, and they had some intimate business to attend to first.

5:00 pm

Sylvia Sparelli, lying naked and stretched out on the rack, listened to the distant noise of approaching feet. With her eyes permanently blinded by many layers of medical tape, she had no clues as to the time or her surroundings, but guessed this to be her captor’s daily visit. She prayed that the man was not coming to hurt her. He had been kind to her yesterday, but cruel to her the day before. She just hoped that the treatment doled out did not fluctuate on a regular basis between being kind and cruel. Otherwise today was destined to be cruel.
Sylvia was getting more used to the man’s routine by now, and knew his every step. This man was predictable in his routines. She listened as objects were placed on the ground. More than two this time and she wondered why? She listened closely and heard shuffling and possibly a bottle being picked up. She told herself; yes, there was someone else here; another prisoner suffering the same fate as her. She then counted the thirteen steps that brought her captor to her side. She heard him stop and sensed him leaning over her. She froze rigid and held her breath. She was in dread of what he was planning to do to her this time?
Sylvia remained silent as a finger touched her lightly between her opened legs. Her captor had done this to her before and had not hurt her. It was only when she protested to his actions did he turn angry. She was beginning to understand the way this man operated, and she now knew what was expected of her. She told herself to remain calm and placid, and just let it happen. After all, she told herself, she did not really have much choice in the matter.
One finger, and then another entered inside of her and began to rub and caress against the inner walls. He was not hurting her; in fact he was being very gentle. However, she tried not to show any reaction, but it was getting hard to conceal her emotions. She had been with men before, and had been to bed with them, but those occasions had been rare and far between.
She heard a gasp and realised that it issued from her own lips.
This triggered of the man’s reactions. His actions grew more frenzied and soon Sylvia found that she could not help herself but go along with what he was doing to her. Soon she felt a climax coming and she did what she could to assist in the man’s actions. Restricted in movement she was only able to move her hips a short distance up and down, but that was all that was required of her. Her orgasm arrived, shuddered and rocked through her body, and at its peak she called out loudly between short gasps for air.
The man’s fingers eventually left her. Still gasping for breath, Sylvia waited and listened. What was he going to do to her now? She hoped for food and water. That was what her body craved for the most. But instead she heard the clicking and unwinding of the mechanism beneath the bench on which she lay.
Sylvia’s whole body relaxed as the hook between her manacled hands became detached. She wanted to move her arms, but they had remained above her head for so long she was unable to do so. The power in her muscles had gone, and the weight of the manacles far too heavy. Then kindly, the man lifted up her arms and brought them forward to rest on her stomach. She wanted to thank him, but decided it best to remain silent.
The man moved down the bench and unbuckled the straps that held her legs. She was now free and wanted to close up her legs and bend her knees, but once more nothing moved no matter how hard she tried. Her body was stiff and there was no longer any co-ordination between brain and limbs.
Strong arms slipped beneath Sylvia’s body and lifted her up from the bench. She then felt herself being carried along; her body bouncing up and down in his arms. She counted the steps. There were thirteen in all. She found herself being laid down and placed on the floor with her back to a cold stone wall. As the man’s arms left her, her back arched and her knees bent for the first time in ages, and she felt movement in her legs. She sighed at the relief of being free.
However, that feeling of relief was not to last for long. She heard the rattle of chains and wondered what was coming next. Then a cold steel ring was placed about her neck and a padlock snapped against the side. She felt the weight of a short chain pull against the side of her neck and realised that she had been chained to the wall. She had freedom of movement, but not the freedom of escape.
For a while she was alone with her thoughts. Her hands moved to her naked breasts. This was the first time she had been able to investigate and comfort her body since the clamping and vicious bull-whipping of her breasts. Light fingers touched and traced the welts. The high ridges were sore and tender, and she winced at the pain under her own gentle touch.
The noise of objects being placed on the ground between Sylvia’s legs brought her back to reality. It sounded like a plate and bottle going down. She guessed these objects to be food and drink. She fumbled blindly forwards with her manacled hands until a finger made contact with an object. She investigated more closely. It was a bottle. She took hold, and, with quivering and shaking arms, raised it to her lips. She then drank deeply. The water was cold and so refreshing.
As Sylvia drank, a blanket fell upon her legs, she also heard the dull thud of another blanket landing close by. Her captor then returned to stand about a pace away. She could hear his breathing and the shuffle of feet. She wanted to thank him for his kindness, but thought better of it; and besides, she was too busy draining down the last drops of water. She ate and drank everything on offer in the eerie knowledge that her captor was stood looking down upon her. Yet she did not care. She had not eaten for days, and the sandwiches she found on the plate were good and wholesome. She ate every bit, including the crumbs, then drained the bottle of water dry.
Then something Sylvia was not expecting happened. She sensed the man bend down and a strong hand took hold of her jaws. The pressure on either side forced her mouth open. She had no option and could not resist even if she wanted to. Then a foul tasting rag was pushed deep into her mouth. She wanted to spit it out, but that too was impossible. Within seconds a wide band of tape was being placed across her mouth and being wound around the back of her head. She moaned in protest, but remained placid and showed no outward signs of resistance. She knew only too well that it would be wrong to antagonise her captor. From now on she would be the perfect prisoner.

Just a couple of paces to Sylvia’s right, Gayle Jackson finished off her own offerings and leant back against the cold stone wall. She sighed and breathed deeply. She realised that this was probably the last chance she would have to breathe through her mouth for quite sometime. Having listened to the goings on alongside her, she was prepared for what was going to happen next. As expected a hand gripped the sides of her face. She opened her mouth wide and accepted the rag without protest. Then fresh tape from a roll was placed across her mouth and wrapped around the back of her head. Unlike the prisoner next to her, she did not make a sound. She was only too grateful that this was happening. Now she had no excuse to talk, and therefore could not be punished for doing so.
Gayle was thankful for small mercies and settled down on the floor. She would just curl up in a ball, cover herself in the blanket and go to sleep.

5:30 pm

Back at the university, two girls were basking in the warm glow that came from the love for each other.
Whilst cuddled up in bed together; their naked bodies touching and caressing, Tracy raised the subject of the Mercedes with Chloe. She put the suggestion to her that she should re-walk the route and see if it stirred any memories. Chloe agreed that it would be a good idea, and after a prolonged shower together, followed by a light meal in the university’s canteen, they set off on their walk.
Chloe led the way; the first part of the route taking them along back streets lined by terraced house. A line of cast-iron railings were in sight at the top of the road as they walked the final stretch before arriving at the wide open spaces of the north London park.
Chloe stopped about three cars’ length from the T-junction at the end of the road. Here she pointed to the gutter.
“The Mercedes was here, parked where this one is now,” Chloe informed Tracy.
There was a Ford Mondeo parked on the spot at the time.
“What did you do when you saw the car?” asked Tracy.
Chloe gave the matter a little thought before answering. Inwardly she was trying to re-live the incident.
“Gayle and I stopped here, on this very spot, and I asked her; ‘is that Roger’s car?’… and she said she didn’t know,” explained Chloe.
“Then what?” asked Tracy.
“I guess we must have started walking on,” said Chloe.
“But you said something about seeing an object on the back seat, and it made you think it was Roger Downton’s car,” said Tracy in the hope of jogging Chloe’s memory.
Chloe nodded her head. Something did come to her. She told Tracy what it was: “I remember something now… there was a sticker in the back window… it was one from the amusement park in Littlesea… one of those that said; ‘Enjoy the Horror -Visit Littlesea Dungeon’. They used to give them away free to every visitor.”
Tracy found the link with Littlesea interesting.
“Did Gayle see the sticker too?” she asked.
A thoughtful Chloe nodded her head.
“She said there were thousands of stickers like that… the amusement park was very popular when it first opened and thousands must have been given away,” explained Chloe.
Tracy gave the matter further thought.
“It all depends on whether Roger had a sticker like it in his own car… can you remember whether he did or not?” asked Tracy.
Chloe shook her head. She was beginning to think this was one big mistake. Perhaps it was not Roger’s car after all.
“No,… and that’s the trouble Tracy… I just can’t remember a thing… I think the shock and horror of Gayle’s disappearance must have blanked off my memory,” said Chloe.
Tracy could see that they were getting nowhere on the issue of the sticker. She returned to the object on the back seat of the car.
“You say you saw something else,… something on the back seat of the car… something that made you think of Roger,… now think hard Chloe… look into the back seat of this car, picture it as the Mercedes, and see if you can remember what it was you saw,” she told her.
Chloe gazed down from the pavement and into the back seat of the Ford Mondeo. She reminded herself that she was standing on this very spot and looking down into a Mercedes car on that fateful eve. She cast her mind back to that time and began to concentrate hard. But no matter how hard she concentrated, there was nothing there. Her mind remained totally blank.
Chloe shook her head from side to side.
“I’m sorry Tracy, but I just can’t remember,” she apologised, “no matter how hard I try, I just can’t remember a thing.”
Tracy took hold of Chloe’s hand and tried to comfort her.
“Don’t worry Chloe, it was only an experiment… it didn’t have to work,” she assured her.
Chloe turned to Tracy. There were tears in her eyes.
“I’m sorry Tracy,” she repeated, “I really am.”
Tracy looked to the park and the vast green spaces beyond the railings. It looked inviting, and a place to rest.
“Come on Chloe, let’s take a walk in the park,” she suggested.
Hand in hand the couple entered the park. They found a vacant bench and sat down. The rooms where Tracy once stayed with Wendy were visible in the distance overlooking the railings to the south. For a while Tracy had thoughts of what Wendy might be up to with Tim, then dismissed them. She belonged to Chloe now and Wendy was simply part of her distant past.
The weather was kind, and there were a fair number of people in the park. It was holiday time and the kids were playing. There were also those that had chosen to walk their dogs. As Tracy and Chloe sat arm in arm on the bench, a ball bounced against the side and rolled away to the front. A yapping little dog came from behind, chased after the ball and caught it in his mouth.
Tracy saw the dog first and sat more upright. She thought she recognised the yapping beast and knew the owner. She turned around, and immediately she realised that she was correct.
Chloe saw what was happening and turned around.
A man was walking towards them. He had a leash in his hands.
“Walter!” they exclaimed in unison.
The man was Walter Henderson, the owner of the big house and the ‘Dom Domingo’ club where they held their regular BDSM meetings.
The man speeded up his step.
“Chloe!… Tracy!,” he remarked as he got closer, “what brings you two here?”
Tracy and Chloe stood up from the bench to greet Walter. He put his arms around them and hugged them both.
“We’re just talking a walk in the park,” Tracy told him.
Walter nodded his head.
“Me too I guess… it was such a lovely day I thought I’d take my dog for a walk,” he explained.
Tracy realised that she had not visited the club for quite some time, and for that matter neither had Chloe. Today was Sunday and the club held its regular meetings on Wednesdays. Perhaps they should consider turning up again on Wednesday.
“Walter, is the next club meeting this Wednesday?” asked Tracy, “I think it’s about time we turned up again.”
Walter nodded his head. Likewise did Chloe, even though the suggestion had not been put to her.
“This Wednesday, as we do every Wednesday, we’ll all be there and waiting,” Walter told them.
Tracy looked to Chloe.
“We can be there too, can’t we Chloe?” she asked.
Chloe nodded her head.
“We can be there,” she confirmed.
Walter thought for a moment. There was something else happening before then. Apart from the BDSM club on Wednesdays, on other special occasions he sometimes entertained other Ponygirl Clubs, and it so happened that there was one being held tomorrow evening at his home. A Ponygirl Club from the Midlands was coming down to make use of his running track and facilities.
Walter recalled the last memorable occasion when Chloe and Gayle raced against each other, and with the club forfeit at stake. It had been a great day for everyone. He wondered if Chloe, and perhaps Tracy, would like to come and join in the fun.
He explained what was happening to the two girls.
“Are you girls interested in seeing a Ponygirl Parade?” he asked, “if so, then what are you doing tomorrow evening?… we’ve got a Ponygirl Club from the Midlands coming to visit us,… and we’re having a bit of a contest… what do you think?”
Tracy looked to Chloe. Tracy had not been present the week Chloe and Gayle raced against each another. She had turned up one week later when Chloe paid the clubs forfeit and stayed locked in the pillory overnight.
“What do you think?” Tracy asked Chloe.
Chloe nodded her head. The thought of watching ponygirls parade always thrilled her.
“I think it’s a fabulous idea,” she replied. She then turned to Tracy and explained: “Tracy, there’s no racing on parade days.. it’s just a show with judges picking the best ponygirls in each category… it should be fun to watch.”
Tracy liked the idea. She turned to Walter and asked: “When is it then exactly?”
Walter looked pleased at the news and gave the answer.
“It’s tomorrow evening, at my place, starting at six o’clock,” he informed them.
Both girls looked to each other and then nodded their heads.
“Well be there Walter,” they said in unison.
Walter smiled and then looked away in a hurry. There was a cacophony of sound drifting across the park. His little dog was in a fight with another dog some distance away across the grass.
“Oh no!” he exclaimed, “looks like I’ve got to go to the rescue…  anyway girls… hope to see you tomorrow evening… byeeee……”
And with that Walter set off at pace. Some poor poodle was getting it, and the little old lady who’s poodle it was looked like she was about collapse from a heart attack.
Tracy smiled at the sight of Walter trying to wrench his dog’s teeth away from the throat of a poodle. She turned to Chloe.
“Well Chloe, it looks like we’ve got ourselves something to do tomorrow evening,” she remarked.
“It sure does Tracy,” replied Chloe, “it sure does.”
The two girls locked hands, turned and headed for the park gates. It was back to the university for now, and a night of sleeping together.
They were two girls very much in love.

9:00 pm

Mrs. Trubshaw moved to the phone. Her guests had not turned up for their evening meal and she was getting worried. She dialled the local police station. It was time to report that they were missing.

9:01 pm

Just a mile away, locked in a dungeon beneath Cuckoo Cottage, Tim stroked Wendy’s head and ran his fingers through her hair. She was asleep on the mattress. He put his coat about her for warmth. He looked to his watch. It was getting late. A whole day had passed them by with no signs of rescue.
He looked to his rucksack and to the wrapped up sandwiches inside. They had been economical with what they had eaten. Only about half of what was there originally had been consumed. If they were careful there was perhaps another two days supply. There was also a bottle of cider in there. Once again about half of that had been consumed.
Tim lay down on the mattress and cuddled up to Wendy.
He was hoping and praying that by now Mrs. Trubshaw from the ‘Shoulder of Mutton’ Inn had informed the police, and that they were out there somewhere and looking for them right this minute.

* * *

End of Chapter Thirty