After the Rain Read online

  ‘Then what? Is that when he attacked you?’

  ‘No, not straight away. Do you want blow by blow?’

  ‘I think you’d better. Tell you why afterwards.’

  Craig coughed again, and then rubbed his ribs. ‘Once I’d shut the door, I pushed him, gently, so his back was to the wall. Then we started making out. We were kissing, he had his hands inside my shirt, and I started to unbutton his. We kind of made our way in here, and fell on the bed. He lay on his back, and I was sitting on him. I pulled my shirt off, and started to undo his belt. Want me to carry on?’

  ‘At the risk of getting into realm of too much information, yes I think you’d better.’

  ‘As I undid his belt, I noticed he had a huge hard on. I made some remark about it, something like somebody’s really turned on tonight, and he went ape.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘He began yelling, kneed me in the balls and pushed me off the bed. He almost fell on the floor on top of me and started hitting me in the face. At first I was doubled up because of my nuts but I managed to move my legs up and kick him there too. Then we rolled about the floor a bit till he managed to stand up a bit, picked me up by the throat and slammed me against the wall here.’

  ‘Jeez,’ Ben exclaimed.

  Craig winced as he rubbed the back of his head, ‘After that I was still dazed. I could see him rifling through the drawers here.’ He pointed to the ransacked chest of drawers.

  ‘He couldn’t have been after money, surely?’ said Ben. ‘Did he try to get your wallet?’

  ‘No, he just went through those drawers. About that time I could hear a car door slamming and some voices outside. I wondered if it might be you. He must have wondered the same thing, because he stopped going through the cupboard, came over, kicked me onto the floor again, and left. Once he’d gone, I called you. Had to leave a message as your phone was off. I suppose you were getting lucky with those girls.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t.’

  ‘Where were you then? Still at the bar?’

  ‘No, I had left the bar.’ Ben then proceeded to tell Craig about his chance meeting with Corinne on her night off, about his abduction, about the waterboarding, and about his lucky break in getting a ride back with Hank and Mary.

  ‘So what happened to Corinne?’ Craig asked.

  ‘Don’t know.’ Ben said. ‘When they grabbed me, I heard her call out, but that was it.’

  ‘I saw some TV programme about waterboarding,’ Craig said. ‘Apparently the US military used it in Afghanistan and Iraq. Use it to get intelligence from terror suspects. It all came out when Bush published his memoirs. Said it saved thousands of lives or something. Doesn’t leave any marks, physical that is.’

  ‘No, just psychological. I’m telling you, I knew I was in a barn filled with hay, and you can’t get much drier than that, but I still felt I was drowning.’ He rubbed his chest, reliving the sensation of that weight pushing him down.

  ‘We need to go to the police,’ said Craig. ‘About what happened to each of us, and what if something’s happened to the girl?’

  ‘We need to get you to a hospital first. Just to get you checked out.’

  ‘No, I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Don’t argue. Just get dressed in something.’

  Craig didn’t argue.

  ‘Shit,’ said Ben, when Craig had dressed. ‘I forgot. The car. It’s still outside Shots. I hope.’

  ‘We’ll have to get a cab over there. Why didn’t you get those guys to drop you there?’

  ‘I was going to. Then I heard your voicemail. There was no signal up there.’

  ‘Fair point. Let’s get a cab. It’s not too late. Saturday night and all that.’

  ‘Ten minutes.’ Craig said, after calling a taxi. ‘What are you thinking?’

  Ben had sat down on the lounge sofa, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his legs, his chin on his steepled hands. He looked up. ‘I’m thinking what happened tonight wasn’t just bad luck: I’m thinking we were being warned off. Again.’

  Craig sat down. ‘Go on.’

  ‘We must stick out liked a sore thumb here. Two English guys. We get separated in the bar. I meet up with that waitress - fine, could be just my lucky night. But as soon as we get out into the car park, part of the car park where the street lamp wasn’t working so it was extra dark, we get jumped. God knows what happens to her, but I get taken to the middle of nowhere and some guys practise waterboarding or something on me. It seemed to go on for ages, but in reality it was only for a few seconds. Then they stop. They take the trouble to cut my ropes before they run off. It was almost as if they wanted me to get out of there safely. They could have done anything to me there, and nobody would have known.’

  ‘The police wouldn’t have been that bothered,’ interjected Craig.

  ‘No, they probably wouldn’t. Meanwhile, you happen to pick up this guy – Jack, wasn’t it? He comes back here with you, then kicks you around, looks for money or something, gets disturbed by noise from outside and goes. Now, he could have done anything to you.’

  ‘I agree. It’s as if we were deliberately separated so each could get our own individual warning. Much easier if each of us is on his own. Bastards.’

  They could hear a car pull up outside. ‘That’s probably the cab,’ said Craig.

  As they walked to the front door, Ben stopped. ‘I wonder what would have happened if it had been me at the bar,’ he said.

  ‘Then Jack couldn’t have picked you up.’

  ‘Precisely. If it had been me sitting up at the bar, it wouldn’t have worked. That’s another point: how did they know you are gay? And which of us was which?’

  ‘We’ve introduced ourselves to some people here. So some people know who each of us is.’

  ‘We have, but we haven’t said, I’m Ben and I’m straight; this is Craig and he’s the gay one, have we? Did Jack – if that’s his real name - say anything to you while he was here?’

  Craig thought a moment. ‘Something like ‘goddam faggot’. Can’t be sure: he was kicking the crap out of me at the time.’

  ‘I’ll bet you then that he was straight. Another gay wouldn’t have been like that. And also, from what you said, he started to go crazy when you made some remark about his hard on. Only a straight guy would have done that. A straight guy would probably get hard if he was being rubbed up, but wouldn’t be happy about it if it was another man doing the rubbing. And would probably feel self-conscious about it. If he had been another gay -’

  ‘He would have just laughed it off. Or checked me out.’

  As they chatted in the hallway there was a knock on the door.

  ‘Come on,’ said Ben. ‘Let’s hope the car’s still there.’

  Peering through the spy hole they saw the person outside. The figure was wearing dark clothing and was standing back to the door.

  The figure turned round as the door opened.

  ‘Good evening guys,’ said Lieutenant Sanchez. ‘I’m glad I found you at home.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  THE OLD COTTAGE had definitely seen better days. Bordering a piece of waste ground under the elevated highway, it was built in the 1920s. The previous owners had been extremely house-proud; at least the yard at the front of the house gave that impression. The lawn which had not seen a mower blade for some time had once been beautifully landscaped, with circular flower beds dug into it. The flowerbeds themselves once had a multitude of rose and other bushes: now these plants were being overcome by the weeds which had been allowed to proliferate.

  There was a detached garage adjacent to the house, in the same state of repair as the main building. The green paint on the garage door was faded and peeling off. A wood panel at the foot of the door was missing, as a result of either being kicked out or just having rotted away. Weeds were sprouting out of the cracks in the garage driveway and pathway to the house.

  The house, however, was not unoccupied. The previous occupant, a ninety year old car
mechanic’s widow had died some three years previously - now it was occupied by her twenty-eight year old great-grandson. Tonight the cottage was in darkness.

  The traffic from the highway above had died down some time ago, and the only sound now was from the crickets in the scrublands or the occasional vehicle along the roadway above.

  The silence was shattered by the sound of a motorbike engine in the distance. Its headlight illuminating the house, the Yamaha FZ1 rumbled up the driveway and its engine stopped. The rider climbed off, removed the helmet and ran her hand through her hair so that it was again hanging loose. She walked to the cottage door and pushed it open.

  ‘Anyone there?’ she called out. There was no answer. She knew where the light switch was, so reached round the doorway, and flicked the switch. A small wall lamp came on.

  The furniture and décor had changed little since the old lady had died. There was an Iron Maiden poster on one of the walls, and the shabby three piece suite had several tears and stains on it. There was a dark stain on the rug, and several empty beer cans lying on the floor. The only artifacts from the twenty-first century were a flat screen TV, and several games consoles and discs, scattered on the floor in front of the TV.

  She flopped down on one of the chairs. It had been a long day and she was exhausted. Just as her eyes started to close, car headlights illuminated the room. She got up and looked out of the window, through the grimy net curtains.

  It was the vehicle she was expecting. A white Nissan NV3 had pulled up on the driveway, stopping two inches away from her bike. Three men got out, talking and laughing, their voices piercing the silence.

  They barged in the door. The first saw the girl, and walked straight over to her. He put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her to him. ‘My little actress,’ he said, pushing their mouths together.

  The other two watched them, and went into the kitchen, laughing. The light from the open fridge door lit up the doorway.

  ‘How did it go?’ she asked, as he let her go, and sat on the sofa.

  ‘Just as we planned,’ he said, sprawling on the seat, his legs wide open and arms outstretched. ‘Just as we planned.’

  ‘Did you leave him there?’ she enquired.

  ‘Sure, we left the sonofabitch there. We untied him before we left, though; so don’t worry your pretty head about him.’

  ‘I’m not worried.’

  ‘His hands are free, so he’ll be able to make it back to the highway. And if he falls over in the dark and splits his head open, well, not our fault.’

  ‘What about the other one?’ she asked, leaning on the mantelpiece.

  ‘Why are you so interested?’ he demanded, glaring at her.

  ‘I’m not. I was just asking, that’s all.’

  He stared at her for a moment. ‘Any case, you know the other wouldn’t be interested in you.’ He looked over his shoulder as the other two came in, each with a can of beer. ‘Hey, stop asking me questions, and fetch me a fucking beer, willya?’

  Saying nothing, she went to the fridge and brought him back a beer. He took it, stared at it and then back at her.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, taking the can back. She pulled off the ring and gave it back to him.

  He took a swig and spoke to one of the other two. ‘She was asking what happened to the other one.’

  ‘I’m sure he got an evening to remember,’ came the reply. ‘Unless he managed to turn him.’

  All three roared with laughter. ‘When he gets back, ask him. Say, “Scott, now that you’ve had a man of the gay persuasion, you wanna go upstairs?”’

  The three of them were in hysterics now. The girl looked away, not wanting to join in. As she looked to the window, more headlights illuminated the room.

  ‘Here he is now,’ the second one said, as he leapt across the room to the window. ‘Let’s ask him.’

  He peered through the curtains. ‘Aw, shit, it’s not Scott.’

  They heard the car door slam and footsteps walk to the front door. This person was dressed more smartly than the others.

  ‘Hey, boss,’ the first one called out, raising his beer can from the sofa.

  The new arrival looked at him with some disdain, and spoke with little enthusiasm. ‘Well, how did your end of things go?’

  The first guy spoke again. ‘Absolutely one hundred percent as we planned. Just like you said, no marks on him, and he came to no harm. More or less.’ He giggled as he said the last three words.

  ‘And we untied him as we left,’ the third piped up. ‘Just like we was supposed to.’

  ‘Yeah,’ the first said. ‘If he’s got any sense he’ll wait till daylight before he makes his way down. But if he doesn’t, and tries to make it down the hill in the dark, and has an accident...’

  ‘He won’t,’ the new arrival cut in. ‘Hank and Mary Anderson found him and gave him a ride back into town.’

  ‘What the fuck were they doing there?’

  ‘You idiots left the barn light on. Apparently you could see it for miles. Anyway, what’s done is done. He got the message.’

  ‘Scott should be back soon,’ the second one spoke up.

  ‘Scott’s part of things went to plan. He phoned me. The other one got the message also.’

  ‘So Scott doesn’t like girls, now?’ the first one giggled into his beer can.

  ‘No, Scott still likes girls. He only got as far as getting his shirt off. Anyway, I gotta go to work now. Stay out of trouble, you guys.’

  The new arrival turned and left. As the door shut, the first gave the cottage door the finger, finished his beer, and threw the empty can over at the window. ‘Prick,’ he muttered.

  ‘I gotta go now too,’ the third said, standing up. ‘You coming too?’

  The second got off his chair. ‘Guess so. Talk to you in the morning. Tell Scott we said hi.’ They were both laughing as they staggered out of the door.

  ‘Are they fit to drive?’ the girl asked as she heard them climb back into the Nissan and reverse off the driveway.

  ‘Relax, baby, they only had one,’ he said, moving to one end of the sofa to make room for her. ‘Any case, what are the police gonna do? Give them a ticket?’

  Not sharing the joke, she picked up her helmet. ‘Well, I’m tired too. I’m going to go home as well.’

  ‘No, not yet, baby,’ he said reaching forward and grabbing her wrist. He pulled her onto the couch with him. ‘Stay a while. I missed you.’

  ‘I’m too tired,’ she said, trying to get up.

  ‘You can go soon.’ He reached for her calves and pulled her up so she was lying on the couch.

  ‘No!’ she said, hitting him on the shoulder with her helmet.

  He knocked the helmet out of her hand and laughed. The he moved himself on top of her and started to force his tongue into her mouth. His hand moved down to her jeans button and started to tug.

  ‘No, Billy, no,’ she sobbed from underneath him.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ‘YOU’D BETTER COME in,’ said Craig as he let Lieutenant Sanchez into the apartment. ‘We were just going to go out. We left our car at the bar. We thought you were the cab come to take us over there.’

  ‘You won’t need the cab quite yet,’ Sanchez said, walking into the lounge, glancing into Craig’s bedroom as she did so.

  ‘Taxi for town,’ a voice called out just as Ben was about to shut the door.

  ‘Sorry, we won’t need you,’ Ben said sheepishly, offering the driver a five dollar bill. The driver looked at it, and walked back out, muttering.

  ‘Mind if I sit down?’ the Lieutenant said as she looked around the lounge.

  ‘Sure, sit down,’ Craig answered.

  ‘First things first,’ she said. ‘The good news. For you at any rate. We got the DNA results back, and they confirm what you said the other night. That John Doe isn’t your brother.’

  ‘See, told you,’ Craig smiled at Ben.

  ‘I’m pleased for you,’ she continued. ‘It just
means that we have to carry on trying to find out who this guy is. But that’s our problem.’

  ‘And what’s the bad news?’ Ben asked. ‘You said first things first.’

  ‘The bad news for you two jokers is that I’m mightily pissed off with you. What the hell if you pardon my French are you two up to?’

  Ben and Craig said nothing. Just as the Lieutenant was about to continue, the apartment door opened and another man walked in.

  ‘Sorry I’m late, Lieutenant,’ he said. He looked in his early thirties, was dressed in a white shirt with a bright green tie loosened, and a beige coloured suit.

  She waived her hand to dismiss the apology. ‘This is my partner, Detective McGee. Now, as I was saying, what are you two guys up to?’

  Ben decided to try playing dumb. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘What am I talking about? I’ll tell you what I’m talking about. When you two came to see me I told you to have a nice vacation, go see Mickey Mouse, take in the sights, then go home and we’ll do the police work. So what do you do? I know you’ve been asking questions at the bar, I heard what’s happened to you, and as for you, Mr Williams, I can only guess by the look at you.’

  Instinctively, Craig felt for his lip. By now it was getting swollen and his mouth was still bleeding.

  ‘How do you know all this?’ Ben asked.

  ‘I had a call from two concerned citizens,’ Sanchez said.

  ‘Hank and Mary?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘But they had no right to call you. It’s nothing to do with them.’

  ‘It happened on their property, sir, so I am duty bound to at least ask some preliminary questions. They said you told them something about waterboarding?’

  ‘Yes. That’s right. There were three men. They snatched me from outside the bar, took me blindfolded, or rather with a sack over my head, to this barn, subjected me to this -’

  ‘Waterboarding,’ Detective McGee cut in. ‘A controversial interrogation technique. Been around for years but first came to the public eye when there reports of our boys using this method of interrogation when questioning terrorist suspects in Afghanistan and Iraq.’