Armed officers bundled out of the van as they prepared for the raid on the ramshackle East London semi. There was no way Ruby was going to miss this. Piles of work were overflowing on her desk, overtime needed to be sorted out, as well as tackling the spreadsheets that DCI Worrow had provided her, but at this moment in time nothing was more important than finding Sharon alive. The case had got under her skin, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Ruby shifted the ugly stab vest poking into her ribs. She had forgotten how heavy these things were. Each time she wore it, she was transported back to when she was in uniform, weighed down with heavy boots, a utility belt that carried everything except the kitchen sink and bulked up with layers of clothing and protective wear. She remembered tucking her hands into the armholes of her stab vest to keep her fingers warm in the winter, and loosening the Velcro belts at the side when sweat trickled down her back. Things were much more straightforward then. Not easier, but straightforward. Work had always been a constant stream, no matter what department she frequented, and she had witnessed many people leave because they could not hack the pace. And now, crouched behind the hedge of the alleged perpetrator’s home, this seemed the most important day in her career to date. So near but so far… All she wanted to do was to see the killer behind bars; to make him pay.
Officers positioned themselves around the back of the building, updating their counterparts by radio. They had all areas covered – what was keeping them? Ruby’s breath frosted as her impatience grew. She stood, just as the command was given to go. There was no soft knock, or the ringing of a doorbell for this high-profile case. Officers drew back the heavy metal battering ram, aptly named the ‘big red key’, and sent the door hinges clattering to the floor. As the door slammed to one side, they announced their presence, their boots stamping in unison against the grimy tiled floor. Ruby remained vigilant close behind, the memory of Ash’s death lingering in her thoughts.
Shouts of ‘clear’ echoed in the building as each room was checked in turn. She wished she could rush ahead of the wall of officers, but they were firm in their instruction that she should stay one step behind. Footsteps thundered up the stairs, and Ruby followed them, her heart sinking as she realised that downstairs was all clear. Unlike their last big operation, there was no basement to be found.
‘We’ve got a body in here,’ a gruff voice shouted in a voice that suggested it was too late for an ambulance. But was it too late for Sharon?
Dozens of questions flooded Ruby’s mind as she caught sight of the blood-saturated duvet. But the matted black hair did not belong to Sharon, and she did not recognise the face of the portly man on the bed. So who was he, and how did he die? Naked, and drenched in blood, he lay splayed across the mattress, the sheets tightly gripped in his chubby fingers. Was this Sharon’s client? More to the point, where was Sharon?
She raised the radio to her mouth, pressed the side button and updated control. As with all such operations, they had their own channel tagged under the operation name devoted solely to the raid. The words had barely left her lips when she became aware of a voice requesting an ambulance to the scene. Gripping her radio tightly, she rushed across the foot-worn flooring to the bedroom across the way.
‘Let me see,’ Ruby said, aware she was contaminating the scene by traipsing from one room to another.
She paused at the doorway, craning her neck as wide-shouldered officers moved to one side. The image of a woman on a single bed came into view. Feeling like she was stepping into a nightmare, Ruby gazed at the pink satin costume. Long satin gloves reached her elbows, and a delicate tiara adorned her newly dyed blonde hair. ‘Sleeping Beauty,’ she breathed, the words touching her lips in a whisper as she recognised the costume from one of the images on their briefing room wall. Bent over Sharon’s body, the attending officer swivelled his head, giving Ruby a nod.
‘She’s alive.’
Eyelids flickering, a sudden breathy rattle emanated from Sharon’s throat. Swearing under her breath, Ruby tugged at the ropes binding her flesh to the metal bedposts. The long white satin gloves were spotless, except for a single pinprick of blood that seeped through from the index finger of her right hand. It was heartbreaking to see Sharon trussed up in this way. With her pale skin and impossibly pink lips, the doctor had perfected her to the last detail. They had found her just in time – or had they?
As the paramedics poured in, Ruby stepped aside. Plucking her mobile phone from her pocket, she dialled her office number. After three rings, DC Eve Tanner’s voice spoke on the other end of the line. She and the doctor may have shared the same surname, but that was where the similarity ended. Eve was one of the most caring and conscientious workers in her team, and it took her just seconds to find the original version of ‘The Sleeping Beauty’ fairy tale in her notes.
Eve’s voice was steady as she read from the text. This was not a story she would be reading to her baby when it was born. ‘As the prince tried to wake her, the princess seemed so incredibly lovely that he began to grow hot with lust…’
Ruby listened as Eve filled her in. The modern day fairy-tale, based on a later version of the story, saw the princess put to sleep after she pricked her finger on a spindle, only to be awoken by her true love’s kiss. But the original version relayed a harsher reality. Taken by the king for his pleasure, the princess was continuously raped, bearing two children while still asleep.
Ruby ended the call, clearing her throat as she spoke. ‘Guys, when you seize the bedding, can you bear it in mind that we may be dealing with a rape scene here too.’