No triggers.
Chapter Thirty Two
'Miss Brocklehurst, we understand that the vehicle used to abduct you and your brother was an Audi Q7 SUV. Is that correct?'
'I've no idea wha' make of car it were. It were big an' black an' 'ad tinted windows. An' seven seats. An' I'm pretty sure tha' t' windows were bullet proof an' t' car were armour-plated. It just looked smaller on t' inside than it should 'a' been, if you know wha' I mean.'
'That sounds like the vehicle Sherlock and I saw, parked outside the cottage, in the hospital grounds,' John confirmed.
'But we could find no trace of the vehicle on any of the traffic cameras or via the police helicopter that was sent up,' the agent pointed out.
'Oh, no, you wouldn't!' Josie exclaimed. 'Y'see, they drove t' car into a lorry tha' were waitin' in a layby on t' duel carriageway, jus' outside o' town.'
'A lorry?'
'Ye', a big lorry. The boss bloke, 'e said 'e go' the idea from a Michael Caine movie. The car drove in, they pu' up t' ramp and t' lorry drove away, up ont' moor.'
Well, that certainly explained how the Audi had disappeared.
'Can you describe the lorry, Miss Brocklehurst?' Agent Richmond asked.
'It were big. That's abou' all I can remember. I'm really sorry bu' I were so scared and I were worried abou' our Arthur. He were in such a state. And I di'n't really see it, apar' from t' inside.'
'What was it like on the inside?' John asked, gently.
'Well, it 'ad a little side door, wi' steps that come out when y' opened t' door and went back in, when y' closed it. And it 'ad another door, at t' front, tha' went into a separate bit but I don't know what tha' were like. I never saw inside. Bu' tha' were where they took Sherlock when 'e said 'e wanted t' talk t' boss man.'
'Right, thank you, Miss Brocklehurst. Now, what about when you got out of the lorry? Did you get to look at it then, perhaps?' the agent asked, hopefully.
'Well, no, not really.' Josie grimaced and began to wring her hands. 'I were so frightened. I really thought they were going to kill us. They dragged us out of t' car and out of t' lorry and they dumped us on t' road. An' t' guard, he were pointing a rifle at us and then t' boss man, he said this were where we had to say goodbye. I though' they were going to shoot us!' She was almost weeping.
'Josie, Josie,' John soothed, putting an arm around her shoulders and taking hold of her hands to still the wringing. 'We understand. It's been a terrible experience and it must have been very hard for you.'
'It were, John! It were so scary. All I could think abou' was tha' we would never see our mum or our sister agen and they would never see us agen. And Arthur just di'n't seem to understand what were happening and he would never ge' married and live 'appily ever after wi' 'is 'usband and their children. And he loves those children so much! You can tell, when he talks about them.' Josie was getting more and more upset, despite John's best efforts to comfort her.
'I can't remember owt about t' lorry. I'm sorry,' she wailed, as the tears began to cascade down her cheeks.
A nurse came into the cubicle, concerned at the rising tone of hysteria in Josie's voice, pushed past Agent Richmond and glared at Dr Watson. She put a comforting hand on Josie's arm and said to the two men,
'This young woman is my patient and you are making her condition worse. No more questions. Go back to the Waiting Area!'
'Nurse…Samantha,' John said, in an attempt at conciliation, reading the nurse's name from her badge. 'I am a Trauma doctor, myself, so I appreciate and respect your concern for your patient but there is a third hostage who has not been released and his life may depend on information that Miss Brocklehurst may be able to give us.'
The nurse still glared at him but her attitude softened, slightly.
'Go back to the Waiting Area, doctor. I will assess my patient and see if she is well enough to continue answering your questions.'
John could see that Nurse Samantha had conceded as much ground as she was likely to, so he and Agent Richmond retreated to the Waiting Area and bought themselves a coffee from the machine, to help keep them alert, as the night wore on.
ooOoo
Arthur was dozing, in a darkened room. Well, sort of dozing. He was actually listening to the voices inside his head. The one that had been screaming had now died down to a low mutter but it was still telling him not to trust anyone and that he had been well and truly stitched up by the man he had grown to love with all his heart. The quiet voice continued to warn him not to listen to the other voice but to trust his own instincts. He had more or less decided to ignore them both.
He knew he was in hospital – a proper modern, working hospital, this time, not an outmoded, defunct one. He could hear the steady beep-beep of the heart monitor and he knew that it was his pulse making it do that.
He remembered being put in an ambulance and brought here by paramedics and then being treated by doctors and nurses. Everyone had been really kind to him. No one had hit him with a sjambok or quoted the Bible at him, or made him drink something that made him heave his guts up until his throat burned.
No one had made him watch porn videos of his partner cheating on him with his staff, or sexually abusing his own brother. God, that hurt the most! That was worse than all the other stuff put together. He felt that hollowness in his chest, again, where his heart used to be. He wondered if the pain would ever go away.
ooOoo
'We've put him on a warm saline drip, to help raise his core temperature, and he has a couple of infrared lamps, too,' the Trauma doctor explained, as he led Mycroft to the ICU. 'We haven't used any sort of drug therapy at all. We decided his body has enough to cope with, metabolizing the drugs he already has in his system, without adding to that.
They arrived at the door to Arthur's room.
'As I say, don't be surprised if he doesn't respond to you. He might not even recognise you,' the doctor warned. Mycroft acknowledged the warning with a nod, opened the door and stepped inside.
He approached the bed, quietly, his throat constricting at the sight of Arthur, looking pale and fragile, despite the red light of the heat lamps, with the saline drip feeding into the cannula in the back of his hand and the heart monitor clipped to his index finger causing the machine to emit that regular beeping sound. He reached out and placed a hand on Arthur's crown, stroking his forehead, gently, with his thumb, then bent to place a tender kiss on the other man's temple.
Arthur felt a soothing touch on the top of his head, as someone stroked his forehead, then pressed their soft lips just beside his eye. He smelt a familiar cologne, a finely tuned aroma with just the right balance of top and bass notes, and it inspired in him feelings of warmth and security. He turned his head toward the scent and raised his hand, which was instantly taken in a firm, cool grip that enhanced his sense of well-being still further.
He cracked open his eyelids and blinked as the blurred face of his comforter resolved into a sharper image – then he froze, before pulling his hand out of Mycroft's grasp, reaching up and pushing the other man's hand away from his head.
'Why are you here?' he mumbled, turning away and closing his eyes.
Mycroft dropped his hands to his side and took a sharp intake of breath before answering.
'I needed to see you…to see how you were.'
He paused, not sure how to proceed. He wanted to take Arthur into his arms and hold him, tell him how much he loved him and how afraid he had been that he might never see him alive again. But Arthur's whole demeanour made it clear that he would not welcome any of that.
'Well, you've seen me. I'm alive,' Arthur mumbled some more. 'You can go, now. No need to concern yourself any further.'
'Arthur,' Mycroft tried again, 'I don't know exactly what you've had to endure but I do have an idea and I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am that you had to go through that. But I promise you that I will do everything in my power to bring to justice the perpetrators of this heinous crime against you.'
He twisted his fingers together, to restrain himself from grabbing Arthur by the shoulders and hugging him to his heart. Instead, he stood by the bedside and waited, mentally willing this man to look back at him, reach for his hand, speak his name. Arthur did none of those things.
'My love, I can understand your anger. I could have protected you better. I should have anticipated that something like this might happen.'
'Oh, God, Mycroft, it's always about you, isn't it? Listen to yourself. 'I could have done this, I should have anticipated that.' You really are something else.'
Then Arthur did look back at him but the anger, pain and hurt in those eyes cut Mycroft to the quick.
'Don't you understand? It's not what you didn't do, it's what you did do that is the problem,' he growled.
Mycroft licked his lips, which were dry like his mouth, as he tried to imagine what Arthur could be referring to. He feared that to ask would only make matters worse. And to deny any wrongdoing would be worse still. But he had to say something.
'Whatever I have done that has hurt you, I apologise unreservedly and I will do everything I possibly can to make it up to you,' he stammered.
'Some things can never be forgiven, Mycroft. Some things are beyond forgiveness.'
'Then, tell me, please, what unforgiveable thing I have done. At least let me know what my crime is,' he begged, throwing caution to the wind in the face of Arthur's hostility.
'Oh, Mycroft, just leave me alone. Go back to your harem. I won't be your concubine any more,' Arthur groaned, and rolled over, turning his back on the man he had promised himself to, curling into a ball, to shut out the world and allow himself to give in to the grief he felt for his lost love.
Mycroft was shocked to the core by Arthur's harsh words but affected far more by the sight of his lover's body shaking with the wracking sobs he was unable to contain any longer. He was seized by a desperate urge to confront Arthur and demand he explain what he meant by this bizarre statement.
He stood, vacillating, by the bedside for a long moment but his pragmatic side won the day. To press Arthur for answers would only drive him further away. The answers could be found elsewhere and he was determined to find them. He turned to leave the room and had almost reached the door when Arthur suddenly sat up and said, chillingly,
'I should have known it was too good to be true. Why would a man like you be remotely interested in a man like me? I should have realised there had to be a catch.'
Mycroft turned back and opened his mouth to speak but Arthur had curled up again, shutting him out, so he left and returned to the Family Room, where Anthea was shocked to see his bottled up but ill-concealed distress.
'We need to speak to the prisoners they took tonight. And find out if any DVD's were discovered at the scene. I want to know what was on them.'
ooOoo