Page 32 of Captive Heart

Swallowing against what felt like a physical tightening in her throat, she sucked in a breath like it might be her last and continued in a hoarse whisper. “He just stood and watched, threatening to whip me and asking how long I thought I'd be able to hold my balance."

Micah had come to sit beside her. He was quiet and didn't so much as touch her, but Melody was inordinately comforted by his presence.

"The telephone rang, but he'd switched it over to the answering machine while he tormented me. I was barely taking any notice; I had more important things to think about," she bit out harshly. "But I remember that he stormed out of the room to intercept the call because the caller was asking if he was there, telling him to pick up the phone. He called him something, but it wasn't a name. He said 'V'…I think. Nothing more, just like the letter. I don't remember anything after that. Maybe I lost my balance, maybe the rope just got too tight, but I must have passed out. All I know is that afterward, my throat hurt, but it wasn't enough to break my neck. I wasn't dead."

She was quiet for a while, trying her best to stuff the memory back where it belonged, into a locked box within her mind which would allow her to retain her sanity.

"That was in the early days. The telephone disappeared after that, maybe because he was afraid I'd hear too much. Maybe so there was no danger of me trying to use it to call for help, I don’t know. It was gone, either way."

There was silence when she finished, just the scratches of Detective Storer's pen disturbing the dark pall that hung in the air, as he made notes in a small, hard backed pocketbook,

Melody found she was glad of Detective Storer's pragmatic attitude when he simply continued on with his questions as soon as he'd finished writing. She supposed in his line of work, he'd probably heard and seen it all. Probably things that were even worse. She appreciated it, nonetheless, and also the fact that he changed the direction of his questions.

"Okay, so back to the night you ran away," he recapped. "I have Micah's version of events as far as it goes, but perhaps you could run me through it."

She went through it all again from the start. The detective didn't say a word when she told him about stealing the boots and the scarf, though he must have heard the way she stumbled over the telling with the weight of her guilt. She had half expected him to say he'd have to arrest her for the theft.

"You said you spent the night in an abandoned building," he pushed, instead. “Do you have any idea how far away that was from where you started?"

Melody shook her head. "All I can tell you is that it was late when he threw me out of the house. It had been dark for a long time." She paused and thought back for the tiniest clue that might help. "I could still hear traffic, though, so it probably wasn't past ten pm. The brute—V—was a man of habit. In the longest days of summer, he always went to bed a little while after dark. I estimate it was a similar time throughout the year. I never knew the time, but I learned to get a sense of it through the sun, the moon, and the length of the days." She spread her hands out helplessly, unsure of how else to explain it.

"It was still dark when I found the ruined house. It felt like the middle of the night, but I slept until close to dusk the following day, so maybe it was later."

"Can you estimate how far you travelled after you woke up? Or tell me how long it took?" Detective Storer urged, his wheelchair creaking as he adjusted his position.

Melody frowned. "I searched the house before I left to see if there was anything useful." A tinge of embarrassment coloured her cheeks.

"It's okay, Melody. It was abandoned," Micah reminded, patting her hand.

She nodded, feeling a little better. "I found some tins of old food and an old-fashioned can opener. It was rusty and so it took a long time to open them. Two were green and putrid looking and none had a readable label, so it was anyone's guess what was inside. I almost gave up after the second, but I was so hungry, and I had no energy despite sleeping so long. I didn't think I could go too far unless I found something to eat, so it was a while before I left. Eventually, I managed to open two tins of peaches which looked okay, and I kept one of the cans, so I could get water from the river."

"There was a river?" The detective dug out his phone and looked at a map app, taking down some more notes as he did so. "Okay, I have some more questions about the river," he eventually declared. "But finish with the timeline first."

"Umm…there was a wardrobe and a chest. I looked in those before I left. I found some old-fashioned long johns, so I put those on, and a wool dress, so at least I was covered. I managed to find some old string, so I could roll one of the blankets that was there and take it with me. I cut a strip off the tarpaulin with a shard of broken glass from one of the windows, to wrap around it, so it didn't get wet."

Melody took a deep breath. It was hard reliving every last detail like this.

"It was almost dark when I left, and I went to get water from the river first, which meant backtracking a bit, but not much, because there was still a little bit of light when I got back to the cottage and beyond it. Enough for me to choose a route and head in what I thought was the best direction."

"Go on," Detective Storer encouraged, and Melody realised she’d trailed off and gotten lost in her own head. Micah engulfed her tiny hand in his own, giving it a squeeze and she was glad of the warmth and support.

"It seemed like I walked a long way, but I'm not sure I was going very fast. I came across a barn. It was still being used, but there was no house in sight, so I thought it would be a safe enough place to spend the rest of the night. It was too dark to see where I was going by then, anyway. There was a tap in the barn, so I had a lot of decent water, at least, and I didn't sleep so long that night."

Melody reached for the glass Micah habitually left on the side table for her. The memory of how wretchedly thirsty she had sometimes been during that desperate flight of emancipation urged her to drink while she had the chance.

"It was only just starting to get light when I left the barn, but since it's winter, it was probably seven or eight o clock, I guess. I walked almost all day long, but I had to rest a lot. My feet hurt, and I didn't have any energy. It was early evening when I made my way through the woods at the edge of the boundary and found this place."

"And how many nights did you sleep outside here?" he asked. "And did you sleep anywhere else before you tucked into the old stock entrance recess?"

Melody shook her head. "No, there was nowhere else. It was too dark for me to get a good look at where it might be safe. I found a tray of pastries that had been thrown out by the bakery along the road, but I couldn't see anywhere to bunk down, and I remembered seeing the sheltered doorway. Plus, there was a drainpipe where I could collect rainwater to drink."

She looked at Micah then. "I was planning to only stay one night. I didn't think it would be safe to stop any longer, but I soon worked out it was a club, so it was empty in the daytime, and the recess I was using was redundant, so no one came near it at night. Also, there was a better supply of food than I'd had before, and I was so drained and exhausted! I slept there for three nights before Micah found me."

"And you've spent one night here, meaning it was Wednesday night when you fled, and you journeyed for probably no more than twenty hours in total. I'll ask Xavier how fast you could have realistically been walking with your injuries and afflictions and work out how much distance you might feasibly have covered. Then I'll triangulate that on the map using the club as a centre point and what streams and rivers we can identify within the area."

"Less than a week," Melody murmured as if Detective Storer's words had gone straight over her head. "It seems like more, somehow."

He ran her through a few more things before he took his leave. The altercation between V and Daddy, physical descriptions of the houses she had lived in with each man, and far too many uncomfortable questions about the way the brute had treated her. How often he had beaten her, how often he invited other men to use her, any specific memories that stuck out for whatever reason.

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