Cold as Ice (Willis/Carter #2)(67)

‘Yeah, right.’ Ebony avoided looking at herself in the mirror. ‘I’ve always been big-boned. My mother always tried to make me look pretty – never worked. My mum was petite but curvy. The opposite to me basically.’

‘You’re athletic and lean but with a proper waist and a woman’s shape. Be proud, Ebb.’ Jeanie could see Ebony was beginning to feel uncomfortable and snatch at the clothes. ‘Okay. Torture’s over, Ebb. I’ve decided. ‘We’ll take four of these tops, these two pairs of trousers, and we’ll pick you up a pair of skinny jeans for the evening. Done. Oh, and some underwear: bras that fit, for Christ’s sake.’

It would be evening before Jeanie could think of making it back to Tracy. She gave her a ring.

‘There will be officers stationed outside from now on – just as a precaution. You know – I’m very proud of you – you’re coping much better than you think.’

‘Thank you, Jeanie. I feel exhausted. I can see me going to bed the same time as Jackson.’

‘What about Steve – is he coming home tonight?’

‘He might do. We have to talk about it.’

‘Do you want me around tonight?’

‘No, Jeanie. I’m exhausted and so is Jackson. We’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Of course. If you need me, you call.’

‘I will.’





Chapter 30


Ebony left Jeanie to drive straight home to spend some time with Christa whilst she got the bus home with her two bags of clothes. She stepped off the bus and was on her way to the local Spar shop to pick up something to eat. She’d been told by Carter to go home and make sure she had what she needed to prepare for going undercover. She had a new set of clothes, and had even had a lesson in putting on make-up from the woman in the Body Shop. Now she was going home to go over the details for the hundredth time. She was already beginning to think herself into another person’s skin, trying hard to imagine the sights and smells of the Caribbean and had listened to endless newsreels from the last few years to make sure she knew enough about what had been going on in the place she was supposed to have lived in. First she’d go to the Spar and get herself some comfort food to sustain her whilst she continued her studies.

A car was parked up across the street as she left the Spar with her shopping. Two men were sitting inside who she didn’t recognize. She could tell it was a police car – something about the way it was parked and where; its colour, the position of its number plate. She was mulling over what it could be: maybe a drugs bust, maybe a hit on illegal workers in the shop. She kept an eye on the men in the car as they stared straight ahead. Then, on some unseen signal, they switched on the engine and accelerated forward just as Ebony got close. Ebony turned to look behind her to see what they were headed for. She was beginning to feel like she might be accidentally about to get caught up in something. Her heart was racing – would they need her to assist? Was she in their way? The car seemed to be heading straight for her. They drew up just ahead of her and she saw the back passenger door swing open. Then her world went black as hands gripped her and she was pushed down headfirst and thrown into the car.

Ebony’s eyes were wide open as she sat in the back of the car, held firm. Her hands were behind her back, tied with a plastic tie. Nobody spoke to her. She could only smell the cloth of the inside of the bag she had over her head. She could hear her heart beating.

They drove for twenty minutes, around in so many circles that Ebony lost all sense of direction. They turned into a place that echoed, as if it were underground. They kept the engine running and she heard the car door being opened, felt the rush of cold air as she was hauled from the car. She heard the car drive away.

They marched her along an open space and she felt the presence of two men. She listened to their footsteps. Ebony felt the air around them. The smell of chemicals. They stopped and Ebony heard the clank of a chain being loosened, slipped out of its hold and dropped onto the ground. She was pushed forward and she tripped over, landing on concrete. A door was closed and her hood was removed. Two men stood looking down at her. They were both thick set in their mid-thirties to early forties, one taller than the other. Both bald. They were dressed the same, almost in a uniform of dark clothes. One of the men was taking his jacket off. Ebony felt herself beginning to shake. She was trying to keep the panic down and her wits about her. She had to stay sharp. She looked around her to assess the situation. It was a windowless room with a concrete floor and bare brick walls. There was strip lighting on overhead, hanging down from the ceiling. There were shackles on the floor, bloodstains on the concrete. There was a sink in one corner. The room was icy cold. Ebony’s breath was white. In another corner of the room was a metal tank up at a forty-five-degree angle from the ground. She knew what it was – a sensory deprivation tank. She had read about them. She knew that inside the tank a few hours was equal to weeks of solitary confinement in an ordinary cell.

The shorter of the two men hauled her to her feet and pinned her against the wall. He placed his hand in the middle of her chest and kicked her ankles back until she was touching the wall with her feet and then he came close to her face so that his nose was touching hers. It was many years since Ebony had been subjected to an attack like this. As a child she’d been assaulted many times in the power struggle that went on in kids’ homes. She had learnt to keep her head down, to comply, to wait for it to be over. It had been many years and countless blocked memories since she had felt so vulnerable.