Chapter 13 - Criminal Capture

The medication Angela had been prescribed a few months prior had been working initially, but it was unlikely to maintain that. Yes she had made friends with Jackie, someone else in the same situation, constantly replaying the devastating effects of what she had gone through, but with Jackie having suffered at the hands of the same person too, Angela was now on edge. This one man had now ruined at least two women’s livelihoods, and also presented one of them with a child who, although she was loved and well looked after, would have to be told the truth one day.

Jackie wasn’t familiar with her new surroundings, so instead of going for her routine morning jog, she decided to at least try a few sit ups instead. Only having got through a few, she heard Angela scream out herself. “Why Harry, why are you such a monster!” Racing through to the other bedroom, she saw Angela sitting upright, eyes still closed, but with a blade of a razor in her hand. It was an instinctive reaction but she leapt over the bed with an athletic spring, and by knocking the razor blade out of Angela’s hands, the eyes opened.

“What are you doing in my bedroom?” cried Angela. “You have no reason to be in here, this is my space.”
Jackie sternly replied, “You were reliving your own trauma with Harry. I think I stirred it up with my situation, and for that I can only be sorry.”
“Oh no,” said Angela. “I wasn’t up to anything was I?”
Jackie motioned to the razor blade on the floor. “You could have been, had I not heard you. I saw you sat upright, but still asleep, with this in your hand and the flesh on your arm was showing.”
Angela looked slightly relieved. “I haven’t cut in a little while, but yes, it may be a jolt in terms of my memory from the trauma you suffered. Having both suffered a similar circumstance with the same person, it was likely to trigger something in me even though I thought I would be able to cope with it,” Angela mentioned, crestfallen.
“It’s fine,” said Jackie. “Everyone has their own ways of handling traumas. Yours just happens to be punishing yourself physically. While that might not be an ideal way of coping, it’s the way you see yourself.”
Angela looked at the blade laying on the floor again. It was a stainless steel blade, with a slightly shinier edge to show where the sharper edge was. Easy to notice on the hard wooden flooring of the bedroom, as the colour difference was distinguishable. Upon a little bedside cabinet in the corner closest to this piece of equipment, there stood a framed picture of Angela’s two girls. Carrie, the elder of the two, had a flowery patterned turquoise dress on, and Emily, was in a pair of white trousers and a green buttoned v-neck t-shirt. They were very similar in facial features, wide eyes, slender nose, thin mouth. Jackie could tell they were very much Angela’s girls.
“Perhaps we should both try resting again,” suggested Angela as she yawned a little. “We have both been through similar events, and could do with a recharge if possible.”
Jackie agreed. “If I can sleep it would be useful,” she replied. “It’s not easy, but then you already know that part of it.”
“Tell you what,” Angela moved off the bed. “I’ll give you one of my tablets. I shouldn’t really without a doctors permission or if you are allergic to anything, but I think it might help.” Making their way back downstairs to the kitchen, Angela rifled through her medication cupboard. “A-ha,” she said, as she found a small white box with a blue triangle on the front. “Here we are.”
Pulling two glasses from a cabinet above the toaster she had on top of a side unit in the kitchen, Angela filled them halfway with a splash of water from the cold tap.
“It’s always better to have medication with cold water,” she added.
Jackie agreed. “Indeed it is. It’s a good job I’m not allergic to anything.”
A moments silence passed as they both popped the pill into their mouths and swallowed whole with a swig of water.
“Right,” said Jackie. “I think it’s time we both went back to bed.”
With that, they headed off back up the stairs and to their respective bedrooms. Within a few moments, they were both fast asleep.

Across in the heart of the older part of the town, having just finished supping at his coffee while talking to John, Gary’s mobile began to ring. Reaching his hand into his pocket, he pulled out a slightly worn down but still useable iPhone. He read the screen and a number he didn’t recognise flashed up. Silencing the tune he‘d used as a ringing tone, he popped the phone on the table.
“Not going to answer that?” John pointed to the phone.
“I don’t answer numbers I don’t recognise usually,” Gary replied. “Anyway, where were we?”
“Straight down to business, I like that attitude,” John was positive in his response. “We were talking about a band that I do sound work for, but looking to get them recorded, and I was after your help.”
“That’s right,” said Gary. “Where would I need to be and at what time?”
“There‘s a green door at the side of the church,” John started. “You’ll need to meet me outside there at about five this afternoon otherwise you won’t get in.”
Gary picked up his phone and found his reminders. Setting an alarm for four-thirty he placed a note alongside 1700 hours, ‘Green door by church. Meet John.’
“That’s sorted. It’ll give me half an hour to get myself ready and there. It doesn’t take me more than a few minutes, and I’m guessing slacks would be appropriate too?” he asked, indicating John’s personal attire.
“Yeah, there’s no point dressing smart for these occasions,” John answered. “You don’t want to get your best suit ruined by a few beers occasionally spilt.”
“I’ll see you at five then,” Gary stood up as he spoke. “I have work to get back to for now, on my latest composition.”
That said, he bid John a good day and stepped out into the sunshine that was shining rather brightly now the clouds had sloped off to the west, leaving a bright blue sky punctured by a handful of light fluffy clouds. He also noted that the town was a fair bit busier by now, a mixture of slow moving elderly people with walking sticks, young parents carting pushchairs around with toddlers ranging from one to five years old, teenagers who’s priority was mischief, and builders in their high visibility jackets looking to grab a spot of lunch. It was midday, so it wasn’t really a surprise, but little did he realise he was being watched. Striding purposefully back to the shop, he found his eyes cast upon the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. As she glanced up, he looked away, but they had imparted eye contact. She got up and walked over to him, sliding a slip of paper in his hand which had her name and number on it. Making eye contact once more before heading off in different directions, she mouthed to him, “Call me.”

The limousine came to a stop. Stuart and Emma heard a door open and then close again, before seconds later, his side door was opened.
“Thank you Jack,” he showed his appreciation as he stepped out into the lunchtime sun. Emma was less appreciative, as much as Jack was her bodyguard, it was his duty to make sure she was kept safe from anyone trying to grab or grope her.
“We are to rendezvous at a little country pub less than two minutes walk away,” Jack explained. “The limo will not fit down there, so we do have to proceed on foot.”
Taking stock of the pebbled pathway, Emma was a little dismayed. “How am I supposed to walk on that?”
Stuart was a little excitable in his reply. “I think you’ll have to wear trainers to get down there. I’ll carry your shoes so you can put them on when we get to a better piece of pathway.”
“That sounds like a plan,” she confirmed. “At least my dress isn’t ankle length, and will not get ruined along the way.”
Jack opened the boot of the limo. “Which bag are they in?” he asked, as apart from the suitcase of Stuarts, the rest of the stuff was Emma’s.
“I think they are in the little white sports bag,” she was a little uncertain, as she hadn’t worn them for a few days with recent travels. Watching him unzip the bag, she realised that she was wrong. That was her extended make-up kit. “Oh, that’s not it,” she remembered. “They would be in the blue handbag at the back.” She pointed towards the Versace branded handbag that was rather large in size, for her frame. Leaning on Stuart as she changed first one shoe, then the other, she soon dropped a few inches in height.
“Heels,” he chuckled, picking them up. “Always give a false impression of height.”
Punctured with occasional jokes from Stuart, and giggles from Emma, the trio made their way down towards the pub, accompanied by Jack’s trio of colleagues, two flanking them, one at the front. Jack made sure he had everyone in front of him for a specific reason. If anything was to happen, he would be either the first to see it, or the first to feel it. He was rightfully proud to be a personal bodyguard and protector of Emma, as they had been paired together two years ago when her first big break had come. Forging a friendship that was bound to grow ever stronger, they had decided against pursuing a relationship in case things went wrong and she lost him.

John had watched Gary head back off towards the shop. He had seen what had taken place, only he wasn’t aware of the contents on the paper that she’d given him. What he did know, however, that the girl who had given him the small piece of paper, was one of the band he had been working for. Caught in two minds as to whether or not to tell Gary about this, he was brought back to reality with an ear piercing scream. Spinning on the spot, he saw a hooded figure, face hidden by a balaclava, running in his direction, carrying a purse in his hands. Being a well respected member of the town, instincts took over as he rugby tackled the offender to the floor, pinning them down. Rolling them over so they lay on their front, he used a little in the way of excessive force to drag their hands behind their back.
“You’re not getting away this time,” he growled. The same person had been behind a number of thefts recently, always in the same hooded jumper, just across various locations of the town that made them rather challenging to follow. As they waited for the police van to arrive, he forcibly removed the balaclava to unmask the purse thief. A slightly flattened curly mop of ginger locks were all he could see, as the person remained face down.

“What are you doing to her?” a rough voice approached him shouting. “Can’t you see you’re hurting her.”
John turned his head to see a few youths menacingly closing in. A couple of them were wielding planks of wood, and another was carrying a baseball bat. “So it’s a girl I have pinned down then,” he growled in return. “Shouldn’t go thieving, should she?”
Either he was extremely confident, or he was running on adrenaline of apprehending the mystery robber. It didn’t matter too much as the rough voice continued on. “Get off, or we use force to remove you.”
At that moment, John heard the sound of wheels from his left, coming up the slope, and also from behind him. “I wouldn’t be so certain of your actions,” his voice was still deep and unthreatened.
“What can you do about it,” the rough voice was rather annoyed. “There’s eight of us, plus her, and just one of you.”
The vehicles came to a stop, and, quietly opening the doors of the car behind them, a quartet of coppers stepped out and took aim. A few more plain clothed officers appeared from the sparklingly clean white van parked just out of sight.
“I’m gonna count to three. If you don’t move, you’re gonna get what’s coming to you,” The rough voiced thug wasn’t giving an inch. Neither was John as he replied just as gravelly, “Count to three, if you really must.”
“One,” cried the youth, as they circled the situation, the three with weapons stood between the cops taking aim and John. The coppers flicked their safety catches off, ready to shoot to maim.
“Two!” The rough voice had encouraged local businesses to cease trading as passers by looked on. But before he could finish the count, there were four shots, all catching the visible youths in the back of the legs. The plain clothes officers whipped out their own pistols and the inspector led the way closer.
“Drop your weapons,” Inspector Jeffries said sternly. “We’ve got you surrounded more than you have him,” he continued, indicating John in the centre of the circle.
The youths panicked, and the three holding weapons dropped them to the floor. They tried to run but having been hit they found themselves unable to. The other youths who hadn’t been hit tried to barge their way through the numerous officers who had also appeared on the scene, but found that they were blocked and unable to. Outnumbered, the youths were all apprehended and cuffed.
“Right you lot,” the inspector said as three vans were brought up. “Three to a van.”
“Yes guv,” replied one of the sergeants. “I’ll take these three, as we’ll need a doctor to patch up their wounds.”
Another sergeant moved forwards. “I’ll take this one,” he indicated the ringleader, before roughly bundling him to the back of his van. “And these other two.”
“You two,” said the inspector indicating the final two who were rather meek upon interrogation, “Can sit in this van.”
“Guv, do you want me to take this one back in the car?” asked a third sergeant.
“Certainly, Manning. I’ll join you, as this one we have been after for a little while,” Jeffries replied. There would be a time and a place for everything else, but John waited patiently until the cuffs were on before he clambered off.
“Thanks guys,” John was aware of their timely intervention. “I thought I might have had a little more of an issue on my hands if you hadn’t shown up.”
Jeffries answered, “No more than you deserve. I’m surprised you never joined up with us, John. Anyway, we have a few questions to be asking of these troublemakers, so we best be off.”
The inspector sat in the passenger seat as the sergeant bundled the purse thief into the back of the car. Making their way across the pedestrianised road, they all followed single file, the car leading the three vans back to the station.

Catching his breath back, he approached the lady who’s purse had been snatched from her hands. “Here you go, my dear,” he said in between gulps of air.
“How can I ever thank you,” she replied. “You saved me losing my fiancé’s stag weekend fund, which would have been impossible to replace within a few hours.”
“No need to thank me,” he humbly responded. “All in the preferred nature of humanity.”
“Here,” she said as she opened up her purse. “He can do without this.” Placing a note into his pocket, she added, “I would feel guilty for not showing my appreciation at your wonderful display of tactfulness, even when they had you surrounded.”
John was blushing slightly. “I was once taught a lesson within a few words,” he responded with a hint of shyness. “Help others when required, and you will be more respected by others. When the time comes that you need help, you will get the support you have earned the right to have.”
“An admirable sentiment indeed,” she approved greatly. “Perhaps you would like to join me for a spot of lunch. My treat.”
John thought hard for a moment. “As much as I would be delighted to accept your offer, I am afraid I have to turn it down as I already have plans,” he fumbled his words a little. “I’m glad to have been able to help though, but I must be on my way for I have little time for further disruptions to my day.”
“I understand,” she was slightly disappointed. “Once again, thank you.”
Parting with a little kiss on his cheek, they headed in opposite directions.

A few hours had passed since they had both gone to bed. Jackie was the first of the two to awaken, and, not being overly familiar with her surroundings, she started to slightly panic. Yes she was in a nice warm single bed, in a room that was set up to be a guest room to possibly bring extra revenue for her hostess, Angela, but nothing looked familiar. Looking down on the floor, she found her ruined pink frock, and begun to recall the horrific events. Shaking at the very thought of what had happened, she tried to focus on something else. It was powerfully penetrating though, and, recalling what was on Angela’s floor, she tiptoed quietly across to the other bedroom that was in use. Seeing what she wanted to see, Jackie effortlessly made her way across and picked up the blade. Quickly escaping the confines of Angela’s room before she stirred, Jackie hid back in her room, under the covers. The emotional baggage was too strong for her, and she looked at her lower left arm. Gliding the blade across, she winced at the sudden burst of pain, there was no sign at first that she’d made any inroads. Repeating the process, she went a little harder. A red mark began to appear. She felt a little better as she felt a tiny release. But she knew she would have to continue a while longer in order to release any significant emotional ties to the incident. A few times later of scratching the surface of her skin, she finally noticed a trickle of blood seeping through. Realising she was using the blunt side of the blade, she turned it over and pierced the skin more thoroughly. Not wishing to leave traces of her blood on the bedcovers, she rushed into the bathroom and held her arm over the sink. It would be easier, she suspected, to rinse the blood down the drain. Running the sharp edge of the blade over the open wound again, going a little deeper, the blood began to ooze more venomously. The deeper she went, the more release she felt from the personalised tension. Hearing a repetitive beeping sound, she jumped. It was Angela’s alarm clock. Grabbing some toilet tissue she hid the razor blade in the pocket of the denim jacket she was wearing. Wrapping the tissue around the wound she went back into the bedroom and found a long sleeve top. Yes it was autumn time, so the long sleeves would prove to be useful outside, but she didn’t want Angela to see what she had done.