Part One - Chapter One (The Investigation)

A Story by Jnick

The overall story is still untitled. Please tell me what you honestly think of this first draft. All feedback is appreciated. Thanks.

PART ONE - CHAPTER ONE

The Investigation

Manchester England. January 23rd 2017. Chief inspector Martin Noakes awoke to his six A.M alarm and reluctantly opened his eyes. His wife Sian slept beside him. He turned to look at her and watched her while she slept, longing to stay there in the warmth of their bed. Eventually he sat up, leaned over and quietly kissed her on the forehead. He dressed into his shirt and trousers that hung from the wardrobe door. He thought about the day ahead and his heart sank. He wondered briefly whether he should stay at home, but quickly discerned the importance of his role. Outside, in the quiet of the early dawn, he could hear the birds meagerly tweeting among the echo of the motorway in the far distance, again longing to stay in bed. He had hardly slept all night, his eyes red and dark around the edges, his face pale and sagging as if the night had aged him. He passed the bedroom of his two daughters on the way downstairs, stopping for a moment to quietly look in through the door. How oblivious they were in their slumber, their obliviousness to the cruelties and injustices visited on children like themselves. His heart sank again, his eyes filled up, his throat became sore. He quietly closed the door and headed downstairs. He prepared his breakfast out of necessity. The sleepless night and horrifying memories were repeating themselves in his mind, dulling his appetite. He put on his coat to set out into the cold dark morning.

As he drove to work he put the radio on in an attempt to distract himself from his thoughts. He couldn't switch them off. The images had been etched into his mind as if they were trapped there forever, inexorably repeating themselves. The case was a complete catastrophe, and certainly the most difficult and challenging case of his career. Three children had gone missing three weeks ago. Their parents were Ms Patricia Bines' whose ten-year old son Deckland disappeared from a care home he was living in. Ms Jennifer Adams' seven-year old son Ryan also disappeared from the same care home. And Ms Amanda styles' twelve-year-old daughter Kaitlin, who practically vanished after an evening at her friend's house. It wasn't until the early hours of the previous morning that they were found dead in the back of a large transit van. The van appeared to have had a head on collision and was left abandoned. A local labourer had discovered the vehicle in the early hours of the morning on his way to work. The van was in a field off a country road, just outside of the city. Martin was called upon in the early hours of that morning notifying him that he and his partner Steven Iredale were to investigate. He presumed they had been assigned the case due to their previous successes in other cases, as well as murder cases. As gruelling as those other cases were, never had he dealt with a case as horrific as the one at hand, especially such a perplexing one.

Martin had discovered that the two boys had been taken by social services and placed in the Oak Close care home. Their home life, deemed a risk by the social services, was fatherless, jobless and in abject poverty. In the early summer of 2015, Deckland's mother, Patricia Bines, was declared unfit for motherhood due to her history with drug abuse and mental illness. A court ruled, without Patricia's presence, that the child was to be taken into care. This was shortly after the school had contacted the social services on suspicion Patricia was under the influence of drugs. Similarly with Ryan's mother, the court ruled without her presence that she was unfit for motherhood, although it seemed to Martin the reasons were more spurious. She was told that because of her history with serious depression and a previous attempted suicide, the child was to be taken into care due to "future risk of emotional harm". After his interview with Ryan's mother, he had Steve dig out the case file for the removal of Ryan from the residence and there it was, in black and white, "Future risk of emotional harm". At the time, Martin had never thought it possible that an institution designed to protect children could be this imperceptive.

Martin would never forget the interview with Jennifer Adams and the way she displayed an emotional concoction of anger and helplessness. She was completely powerless. If it was one thing Martin would remember from that interview, it's how she alluded that the social service's were forcing adoptions based on unfounded reasoning. She claimed that this was done by design rather than by any necessity to protect the children. She detailed that they were making enormous amounts of money through annual government bonuses for a target number of adoptions. At the time Martin thought this was ridiculous, but as he looked into it further, to his dismay he very quickly discovered it was true. The enigmatic disappearance of Kaitlin Styles, however, had nothing to do with the social services. This made the case all the more mystifying when her body was discovered along with the other two boys; the boys having no known association with Kaitlin.

Upon his arrival at the station, his partner Steve was waiting for him just outside the entrance despite the cold of the January air. Martin met his colleague's eyes through the windscreen and an unspoken understanding transpired between them. They knew as soon as they saw each other that neither of them had slept. Steve too, had that long drawn-out sleepless impression. As Martin approached the doorway Steve held out a coffee and asked,

"Did you get any sleep?"

Martin said nothing. In his appearance it was obvious he hadn't slept. He walked inside with Steve following behind, quickly making their way to see the Chief Constable, Michael Romney.

On their way to the Chief Constable's office, Martin noticed Graham Pike in the hallway, a trusted colleague and friend of his. Graham was one of the first officers to respond to the scene the previous morning. When he saw Martin he was eager to speak to him and came right over.

"Are you alright, Martin?' Graham asked empathetically, "I still can't believe what's happened. Those poor kids. It's just heartbreaking. Truly, truly heartbreaking"

"It is" Martin said plainly.

"What a sick b*****d we're dealing with on this one eh? Who knows where they were being taken, in body bags as well. I still don't know what to make of it all. I was up all night thinking about it" Graham said, looking down at the floor with a sullen expression on his face.

"I'm the same' said Martin, "I can't make any sense of it yet. I expect we'll be attending the autopsy today"

"We're just on our way to see the Chief Constable now" Steve explained.

"Alright detectives, I'll leave you to it. Sooner you catch the b*****d the better"

They continued on down the hall and took the elevator to the upper floor of the station.

The Chief Constable's office was the largest office in the station, situated at the front of the building on the top floor. The walls of the office were made of frosted glass. The room had a wide window that overlooked a large area of the city. In the middle of the room was a long table where the Chief Constable was sat at the end, his figure blurred through the glass. He looked as if he were pouring over paperwork with what looked liked documents and folders sprawled across the desk. Martin knocked on the glass door.

"Come in' he said, without delay. "Take a seat gentlemen"

The Chief Constable was engaged in a document he was reading. His eyes, serious and focused, seemed to be analyzing every word on the paper. Just as he finished reading, he spoke to them with earnest.

"As you are aware, under such seriousness and urgency of this particular case I have made sure that the autopsies along with the coroners report shall be completed today, this morning"

Martin was perspicacious of this.

"And I should remind you' The Chief Constable continued, "Due to the highly sensitive nature of this case I have made it abundantly clear across the board that there is to be no media notified at this time and that doing so will result in disciplinary action"

"What about the witnesses?' Steve asked, "What if they tell someone?"

The Chief Constable turned to Steve with a sober expression, and spoke monotonously,

"The witnesses are aware of the legal ramifications should they go ahead and decide to speak to the media. We trust that they won't"

"And the children's parents and all the care home staff? Are they aware of this too?" Martin added.

"Of course they are' The Chief Constable replied with sternness and emphasized again, "As I said, it is vital at this point that the media does not know about this case"

Martin hadn't thought about any attention from the media yet. He was entirely fixated on catching the culprit, or culprits. He pondered for a moment on the possibility that the media's involvement could actually be helpful. It seemed odd to him because people with any information could come forward. Nevertheless he accepted the Chief Constable's orders, his acceptance being somewhat indisposed. The Chief Constable dismissed them,

"Thank you gentlemen, I'll await your report"

Leaving the station, Martin felt an underlying feeling of dread and began to feel nauseous. He asked Steve inconspicuously,

"Can you drive? I feel sick to my stomach"

Martin unlocked the door and tossed the keys to Steve who was somewhat surprised.

"What? Are you alright Sir?" Steve asked.

This was unlike Martin, during his years serving in the police force he'd seen his fair share of blood, violence, drugs and depravity. He was no stranger to the deplorable side of human beings, the side of us that is capable of doing heinous things to each other. At forty-two years old, serving since his early twenties, he'd developed a thick skin to the immorality of society. Yet unlike any other time in his long career, this was truly the depths of degeneracy he was facing.

They were making their way to the Royal National Hospital just on the outskirts of the city. Any kind of conversation or discussion they would normally have about a case was absent this time. Martin gazed out of the window. In his mind, he batted back and forth between the need to know of what happened and the simultaneous fear of discovering how they died. He speculated on various things as he unconsciously tracked the passing lampposts along the motorway. Finally Steve broke the long silence,

"Okay. So a quick recap sir. Here's what we know so far. We have three kids. Two boys, one girl. The two boys are from the same care home, and the girl didn't know the boys at all. Yet somehow they turn up dead in a field in the back of a crashed van together"

Martin said nothing for a while. His eyes were screwed and he was nursing his forehead in an effort to prevent an oncoming migraine. He was frantically trying to make sense of it all, piecing it all together in his mind. Eventually he opened his eyes again,

"What I can't make sense of, is the registration plate on the van. How did they manage to get hold of it, and get hold of a brand new transit van?"

"Perhaps they've hacked the database at the DVLA or something?" Steve speculated.

"At any rate we need to find them" Martin concluded.

Martin thought this over. The fact that whoever they were dealing with was organised enough to get hold of a registered number plate. When the number plate was run by the Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency, they discovered that it was in the system but had not been applied to any particular vehicle; therefore leading to nobody.

As their approach to the hospital drew closer, the fear Martin had felt throughout the journey burgeoned. His usual composure and resolve had completely dispersed. "What's wrong with me?" he thought. He wound down the car window, despite the perishing cold; in an effort to give himself some sort of shock that would recover him from this current state.

"Nearly there now, Sir' Steve said, "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine, don't worry" Martin replied coldly and abruptly. The hospital was now in their sight and Steve pulled off the main road onto the road leading to the hospital entrance.

"Go and get us a ticket mate" Martin said, as he clutched a bunch of coins from his pocket and handed them to Steve. They parked the car and made their way inside.

In the hospital reception, there was a waiting room adjacent to the receptionist's desk. The waiting room was largely empty given the current time, with only a few patients waiting. Martin quietly spoke to the receptionist,

"Excuse me. DCI Martin Noakes and my partner Steven Iredale here to see Jaron Kahn"

Dr. Jaron Kahn, the forensic pathologist to be conducting the post-mortem, was already in the reception area awaiting their arrival. He greeted them and shook their hands.

"Detectives, please, follow me" he asked.

They walked through corridor after corridor on their way to the autopsy room and finally went through a passageway to another building. Martin's anxiousness seemed to steadily increase the closer they got to the autopsy room. The other building wasn't as busy as the main part of the hospital, it was much quieter. This part of the hospital was much older and everything seemed to be slightly dull in it's colour. Martin noticed a smell in the air almost like pickles. It was Formaldehyde, as this part of the hospital housed the mortuary. Outside the room where the autopsy was to take place, the surgeons assistants were already waiting. Dr. Jaron handed head covers, gloves and overalls to Martin and Steve,

"Please, if you would" He asked them. Once ready, Dr. Jaron invited them into the room.

Upon entering the room, Martin noticed the bodies of the three children on three separate tables. They were each completely covered from head to toe by a white cloth and seemed to be laid out in order of size. Dr. Jaron was writing on a clipboard for a moment before commencing. As they stood their waiting, the anxiety Martin had felt was now at boiling point. Sweat started to drip from his forehead and his hands trembled uncontrollably.

"Okay" Dr. Jaron commenced, gently lifting the sheet from one of the children's bodies. He did so with grace, folding it carefully and handing it to one of his assistants. It seemed like he'd done this a thousand times, although surely not all his autopsies were children. Martin noticed the name on the tag. It was Ryan. He was struck first by the sheer whiteness of Ryans skin. It was almost as if the boy had been submerged in the formaldehyde that was overwhelming Martin's sense of smell. His little eyes were dark and bruised, like an imitation of a skeleton, his skin being almost as white as bone. Dr. Jaron gently turned the boy's arm so the inside of the joint was facing up. Martin noticed a large dark bruise that stretched halfway down the inside of the boy's forearm. Jaron looked closely at the boy's body,

"Well, he's had something put in his arm" he murmured.

"Drugs?" Martin questioned nervously.

Dr. Jaron examined closer for a moment and looked up at Martin with a confound expression, shaking his head,

"Not likely" he said confidently.

Martin looked around the room. It was clear everyone was as anxious as himself, as they watched Dr. Jaron examining the body.

"What was put in his arm?" Martin asked nervously, his voice crackling and breaking.

"It's not a question of what's been put in his arm' Dr. Jaron explained "But what's been taken out. Scalpel please"

He gently ran the scalpel blade along the boy's arm, the blade dividing the skin as if it were being unzipped. Martin put his hand over his mouth, although he was no stranger to gore, this he could hardly bare.

The surgeon cut deeper into the arm when he suddenly exclaimed,

"That's extraordinary!"

"What? What is it?" Martin asked nervously.

"There appears to be no blood" The surgeon said as he stood hunched over, frozen in astonishment peering down at the arm.

"Where? What do you mean no blood?" Martin asked, his voice still slightly hoarse.

Dr. Jaron promptly ordered his assistant to pass him another tool from the end of the table. He began to make another incision into the chest.

"I need to get to the heart" he said, as he and his assistants scrambled around.

By now Martin was sweating profusely. A feeling of nausea washed over him as he heard the tapping and scraping of the surgeon's tools cutting through the bone to separate the boy's rib cage.

"What has happened here?" Dr. Jaron exasperated, astounded at his discovery. He peered closer into the cavity of the chest and made a further incision into the heart.

"Gentlemen this is extraordinary', he said, "It appears the child has died from what I can only describe as contrived exsanguination"

"Contrived exsanguination?" Martin questioned in disbelief.

"In other words, this child has had every last drop of blood drawn from his body. There appears to be a puncture in his Brachial artery and his blood was then drawn out of that point with a large needle. A very large needle indeed"

A silence befell the room as each one of them stood in shock at their discovery. Martin walked around to the next table and clutched the cloth that covered one of the other children's bodies, his hand still trembling. He lifted the cloth just above the arm and noticed a bruise in the same place.

"This one's the same" he said nervously. Dr. Jaron rushed over to see and quickly pulled the cloth off the body. It was Kaitlin, who was just as pale and shady eyed as Ryan, her skin also as white as chalk. Dr. Jaron then lifted the cloth covering Deckland revealing the same skeleton like appearance, and the same bruise on his right arm. The surgeon hurried his assistants and they scrambled to open up the bodies.

One by one the surgeon conducted the autopsies of the two remaining bodies and subsequently concluded each child had died by what he initially described as "contrived exsanguination". Dr Jaron had made his conclusion, and began to prepare his report for the coroner. Martin and Steve took off the overalls and handed them back to Dr. Jaron.

"What do you think might have happened here?" Martin inquired. Dr. Jaron was dumbfounded and smiled mirthlessly.

"Well, I can honestly say in all my years I've never seen anything like this. The only thing I can think of is that it could be some kind of illegal blood trafficking, but what sense does it make to kill them? Especially children" He said with a sullen expression as he looked back at the bodies lying on the tables. Martin questioned Dr. Jaron further,

"Illegal blood trafficking?"

"Well, as in the illegal smuggling of organs, but in this case blood. I know it's not unheard of, but why children?" Dr Jaron asked in confusion.

"Easy targets?' Steve speculated, "The children were in a vulnerable situation, the two boys were from a care home and the girl lived at home with a single parent. They could just have easily abducted vulnerable adults, but who's blood is likely to be cleaner?"

"But to kill them?" Martin reiterated as he looked to Steve.

"Anyway, thank you" Martin said, shaking Dr. Jaron's hand,

"I sincerely wish you the best of luck in this case" he said, before returning to the bodies to sew them back up.

As they left the hospital they discussed their next point of inquiry.

"What now?' Steve asked, "Want me to drive again?"

Martin now felt more confident to drive. His initial fears and anxiety were now somewhat eased as it was over and done with. Still slightly shocked, all the feelings of dread and panic had now reduced to a depressive state.

"No, it's fine. I'm fine, I can drive" He explained. Steve suggested that they make inquiries into the vehicle. Martin dismissed this. He was far more concerned about the social services and their involvement; indeed they are most likely not to be directly involved in the boys deaths, but could possibly be held accountable. He wanted to make a return to the care home in which the two boys were taken from.

"I want to speak to Mark Brennan again' he said, "tell him about how these children died and ask him some more questions. I want to question some of the other children staying there too. Something doesn't sit quite right with me"