Caged Read online

  Caged

  Copyright © 2016 D H Sidebottom

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual places, incidents and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 D H Sidebottom. Please do not copy, alter or redistribute this book.

  Please secure author’s permission before sharing any extracts of this book.

  Formatting: Champagne Formats

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Dove

  Lost

  TEN

  The Bunk Up

  Tiny Bloody Lies

  ‘Twenty-one years ago Judd Asher, aged four, was snatched after playing in his front garden. The largest search in the history of Derbyshire police was finally called off after three years, the mysterious disappearance of the young boy one of the police force’s most heart-breaking unsolved crimes.

  In a shocking discovery by South Yorkshire police in the early hours of yesterday morning after being called out to a routine inspection about animal cruelty, Judd was found alive, living in the basement of an isolated farmhouse belonging to Mary and Hank Dawson.

  According to locals, the Dawsons were a very private couple, and segregated themselves from the neighbouring community. Many residents in the quiet rural town of Deenslow said that they were a ‘strange couple’, but had no clue as to what was actually going on in the privacy of that small and rundown farmhouse.

  The police have yet to issue a statement, but it is believed that Judd has suffered serious abuse, both mentally and physically.

  An inside source told us that two bodies were removed from the Dawsons’ property, along with numerous neglected animal cadavers.

  But even more heart-breaking is that Judd’s parents, Janice and Terry Asher were both killed in a hotel fire in 1992, a year after Judd’s disappearance. At this time, it is unknown whether Judd has anymore living relatives.’

  Samantha Williamson reporting for The Star.

  “KLOE!”

  Sighing, I swilled down the rest of my cold coffee and snatched up the last piece of toast. “Mmm?” I knew he couldn’t hear the low murmur of my voice, but it was either that or my frustrated shout.

  “Klo!”

  “What?” I finally shouted, giving in to the slight spark of anger as I plucked my keys from the hook beside the front door and pushed one arm into my coat as I clamped the scrap of toast between my teeth.

  Ben’s face appeared over the top of the upper tier gallery, his deep chocolate eyes assessing me – or rather my mood. “Don’t forget…”

  “Eight at Frankie’s!” I nodded slowly but derisively, speaking each word around my breakfast as I pushed in the remaining portion. “I won’t forget, Ben.”

  “We both know you will.”

  “Jesus Christ!” I growled, shoving my other arm into my coat and forcing each button into the small loops of cord. “I have to get to work. I’m going to be late. I promise I’ll be there.”

  He narrowed his eyes on me, tipping his head slightly to the side. Finally, after staring at me for a moment too long, his glaring eyes softened and he sighed heavily. “You came on.”

  Tears bit my eyes and I blinked them back. I didn’t have time to face the disappointment that had greeted me when I’d gotten out of bed that morning. The sadness reflected back at me through my husband’s eyes hurt me more than the smear of blood on the toilet tissue had. Unable to answer him verbally, I just nodded.

  “Shit,” he muttered quietly as he rushed down the stairs.

  His arms came around me and he tugged me towards him, pressing my head into the comfort of his strong chest.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered over the restriction in my throat and in my heart.

  “Hey.” He leaned back, looking down at me. “No. It isn’t your fault, babe. We’ll get there.”

  “When, Ben? It’s been three years. We have to face that it’s not going to happen.”

  Shaking his head firmly his glare was back. “It will. We just have to believe it.”

  “Believing doesn’t make babies.” A pain speared my chest. “Nor do I, apparently.”

  He ran his thumb over my cheek, wiping away the escapee tear. “I think it’s time we saw the doc.”

  I knew what he was insinuating, and unable to bury the self-loathing I bit out, “Make sure my broken body is capable?”

  “Damn it, Kloe. I didn’t mean that.”

  He looked hurt but I couldn’t help it. I knew it played on his mind as much as it did mine.

  Shrugging, I pulled away from him. “I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.”

  Squeezing his eyes closed he blew out an irritated breath but nodded. “Sure.”

  The word was barely out of his mouth before I was pulling the front door closed behind me and blowing out a shuddering breath, the chill in the early December air making my heartache physical. As much as he tried to hide it, I could see the lie on his face every month when he told me it wasn’t my fault I couldn’t get pregnant. We both knew it was. After all, he never failed to tell me, almost every month, how he’d got a girl pregnant in uni – even if she’d gone on to lose it. It was like a jeer at me every time he told me the story, a virtual slap to my confidence.

  Ben didn’t come out as I sat in my car waiting for the icy windscreen to defrost. Then again, I hadn’t really expected him to. He always struggled to cope with my menstrual mood, the added disappointment making my buried sadness too much for his compassion to stretch to. I knew he would be sitting at the bottom of the stairs, waiting until he heard my car pull away before he left the house for work.

  And as if wanting to prove myself correct, I pulled out of our driveway and drove a few meters before parking up out of sight. When I saw the rear lights of Ben’s car turn on, lighting the edge of our driveway in the dark morning, I drowned more sorrow and continued to work.

  “You think you can handle this one, Kloe?”

  I looked from the papers in my hand to my boss, James, who was perched on the edge of my desk.

  “Of course,” I answered, my voice holding more confidence than I did.

  “It’s a high profile one, which I’m sure you’re aware of.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I’ve followed the outline of it on the news.”

  James nodded, his brows pinching together. “I won’t lie to you, it’s a tough one. Judd is very repressed. He doesn’t speak, and to be honest, we’re not even sure he knows how to talk.”

  I grimaced, the angry twist in my stomach adding to the belly ache I already had.

  “He’s also violent. He has absolutely no social skills. It seems he’s been locked away in that basement for many, many years, possibly since the day he was taken as a boy. He’s malnourished, scarred both physically and mentally, and understandably, scared to frigging death.”

  I nodded again, flicking through the paperwork. From the initial observations do
ne by the hospital staff it appeared that Judd Asher had the characteristics of a violent teenage boy. The photographs showed many scars old and new. His ribs were prominent, his hip bones jutted out and his face was hidden beneath a beard Father Christmas would be damn proud of. In fact, underneath the dirt all that was visible of his face were his eyes, a deep green wildness swirling with fear and threat.

  “He’s sedated at the moment, and after treatment he’s being moved to the centre.”

  I leaned back in my chair, placing the paperwork on top of my desk. “The Dawsons committed suicide?”

  “It appears so. Plus, Judd’s real parents are now deceased. He has no other living relatives, so at the moment his rehabilitation is solely our concern.”

  I knew with my job as rehab support worker I couldn’t afford to get attached to any of my patients, but I couldn’t stop looking at those striking green eyes. They stared right at me, inside me, begging me for help and promising me violence.

  I was trained for both. And I was good at my job. But this case was unique, for obvious reasons.

  “I trust this with you, Kloe,” James said, gaining my attention away from the photographs. “You do understand how much this could further your career if you get it right?”

  I had to bite my bottom lip to stop my mouth from falling open at his statement. This wasn’t about my career; none of my cases ever were. But James only seemed to want to better his career, his selfish reasons of cash bonuses and glorification for taking cases more important than the person we were trying to help. I’d never really liked James. From the moment I’d started working for the private clinic four years ago he’d always come across as selfish and creepy, his wandering eyes making my skin crawl. But I loved my job. The joy that came with each successful outcome made the leers and the red tape involved more than worth it.

  To watch a once violent or repressed person rehabilitate, regain their confidence and begin their lives again, some going on to have families and jobs was the best feeling in the world. Knowing I’d helped them to cope with their demons was worth more than my wages alone.

  And, without sounding conceited, I’d achieved just that with all the men and women under my care. To me, failing them wasn’t an option. I couldn’t and wouldn’t let them down. And I’d had some tough cases over the years. Some that had tested me to my very limits.

  But none would ever test me like Judd Asher.

  BETTY SMILED WIDELY AT ME when I flashed my badge at the security guy and stepped into the hospital room accommodating my newest patient, Judd Asher, the man everyone wanted access to going by the size of the crowd that had gathered outside the hospital.

  Judd’s name, face, life story – or what was known of it – and even speculation over his condition was on every TV news show and internet site, and every newspaper and radio station in the country. It was big news, people wanting to know what he was like and what the Dawsons had done to that four-year-old boy for the past twenty-one years. However, when my gaze slowly found the popular man, it wasn’t intrigue or even curiosity I felt. It was anger and grief.

  “I’m glad you’re taking him, Kloe,” Betty said, directing my stare away from the sedated man laid peacefully on the hard hospital bed. I had to wonder, though, if he’d ever slept in a bed before. “He needs someone willing to give him patience. You’re the only one I know that handles all their patients with that level of composure.”

  I smiled genuinely at the nurse I dealt with often, many of my cases first starting in her care before they moved on to mine. “How’s he doing?”

  She blew out a breath, her sad eyes moving back to Judd as she shook her head. “He’s a mess, Kloe. I’ll admit, never seen anything like this one. The poor love.”

  I nodded, agreeing with her. “Your initial assessment?”

  She handed me some papers to glance over as she shared her observations with me. “Extremely withdrawn but violent, hence why he’s currently under sedation for both his safety and ours.”

  I nodded again, grimacing at Judd’s basic obs, his weight especially. The poor man was seriously underweight.

  “He’s awfully malnourished. I’d even go so far as to say he’s never had a proper meal in his life. When he was brought in he was struggling to walk. Whether that was due to weak bones from lack of nutrients or just because he’d been locked up we have yet to determine. X-rays show a total of fourteen broken bones that have healed over time without medical attention.”

  I hissed out a swear word under my breath, taking a step closer to Judd. Frowning, I gently ran my fingers over the bandages around his wrists, my gaze slipping to identical ones around his ankles.

  “He was found chained up, Kloe.”

  I shot her a glance. “Wrists and ankles?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, skin and flesh is severely infected. As is his back.”

  “His back?”

  She inhaled deeply through her nose, the faint whistle loud in the silence that had descended around us. “Various welts. Some old, some new.”

  “He’s been thrashed?” I couldn’t keep the shock out of my voice and Betty flinched.

  “Yeah. We’ve been pushing antibiotics into him, but it’s the deeper wounds I’m more concerned for.”

  My stomach twisted with anger. My mind was full of the horrors of what that poor four-year old boy had gone through over the years.

  “There’s something else,” Betty whispered, the chilling tone her voice had dropped to making my skin break out with goosebumps.

  She came to stand beside me, her fingers curling around my wrist as she looked sorrowfully at her patient. “His anus is severely bruised. There were hints of old semen present as well.”

  Closing my eyes I groaned in frustration. “Jesus.”

  “I have a feeling his rehabilitation is going to test you, Kloe. But I have every faith now I know you’ll be the one taking his hand and guiding him to the other side.”

  “You make me sound like an angel.” I couldn’t help but chuckle as I wrapped an arm around my friend and hugged her with appreciation.

  “You are,” she replied with a soft smile. “To so many you really are.”

  I wasn’t sure I agreed with her but I returned her smile. “I’ll say something, Betty. If those bastards who had him weren’t already dead, I’d gut them myself.”

  “You and me both,” she answered as I placed my bag onto the bed table and rolled up my sleeves.

  Knowing what I was doing, Betty proceeded to fill a small bowl with warm water and handed me a washcloth, soap and a towel. I always preferred to wash my patients myself, with Betty’s supervision as was hospital policy. To me, it was the start of my care and the beginning of their recovery. It also allowed me to study any injuries, old or new, that each had.

  Yet for some strange reason, seeing Judd dirty and the revolting smell of his body odour saddened me even more. He was a grown man. He would have his pride, battered or not.

  His long blonde hair was the first of my careful bathing. Usually, the hospital or clinic hairdresser would come along and cut it, but strangely, I liked Judd’s long, thick hair, even if it was dirty and matted. After washing it twice then brushing through it the best I could, I fixed it on top of his head in a trendy man bun. I had to question if he was even aware of what was fashionable – I doubted it.

  I trimmed his long beard, leaving quite a bit still embellishing his extremely handsome face that had been hidden underneath. He had the longest eyelashes I had ever seen. They fell onto prominent cheekbones, of course due to his lack of nourishment. His pale lips were full, and somewhat surprisingly, his teeth were exceptionally white and healthy. Betty said it was due to never having sugar or acidy food and drinks. I understood that, but I couldn’t help smiling at the small positive for him.

  Washing his body made my jaw clench in agony when I came across different wounds. His skinny form was covered in bruises, scars and recent injuries, each one trying to tell me his story and bringing out a rag
e I’d never felt before.

  What the hell had those people done to him?

  Eventually, with fresh sheets and pyjamas and smelling a whole lot better, Judd looked a damn sight more human.

  “Everything is in here, as usual.” Betty passed me the standard file of information for me to familiarise myself with. “I reckon he’ll be here for a good few weeks before he’s transferred to Seven Oaks.”

  Seven Oaks was the rehabilitation home my patients resided in while they received therapy and care. It was a private clinic owned by Genesis Convalescence, who I worked for. Usually each case we took on was paid for privately by family, but in rare extreme circumstances, such as with Judd, the local authority contracted out to us, especially if no relatives were able to pay.

  “I’ll be back in tomorrow.”

  She had expected my answer. My therapy started straight away, not when I started to get paid for it. Betty knew this, and she gave me a knowing smile as I walked out of the door.

  BEN GLARED AT ME WHEN I rushed up to our table. “Sorry,” I breathed as he stood up to greet me with a barely-there kiss to my cheek. Forcing a smile I turned to our guests. “Hi, I’m so sorry. Big case came up at work.”

  Ben harrumphed quietly and I lowered my face, hiding the blush to my cheeks.

  Sarah, Ben’s PA, stood and held out her hand, the usual disdain in her eyes glaringly obvious. “Better late than never, Kloe.”

  “Large Chardonnay,” I told the waiter when he came to take my order. By the looks of the empty plates on the table it was obvious my dinner companions hadn’t waited for me.

  “Anything to eat, madam?”

  Shaking my head as I dropped my hand into Ben’s client’s huge hand to shake, I said quietly, “Just a drink, thank you.”

  “Mrs Grant.” Ben’s client smiled. “It’s so good to finally meet you.” If his words hadn’t been accompanied by a soft twinkle in his gaze I would have thought he was being sarcastic. Apparently it was only Ben and Sarah who were annoyed with me.

  “Ah, we’re used to Kloe’s time keeping.” Ben chuckled as if telling a joke but I could hear the underlying irritation with me. Then turning to me, he finally introduced his client. “Kloe, this is Hugh Barnstable. Hugh, my wife, Kloe.”