Chapter Three - Let the Games Begin

Inside the Gemini Grimshaw and Palmer continue to investigate the disappearance of Jayne Palmer with a dramatic outcome. **Contains graphic descriptive scenes**

The building was incredibly shabby and dated. The floral wallpaper barely clinging to the wall and losing the battle against gravity, curled downwards towards the floor, revealing the damp, mildew covered drywall underneath. Wooden furniture stand desolate under blankets of spider web; each infested with dead creatures and dry lifeless leaves from outside. The bare wooden floor creaked with every step Grimshaw and I took creating a flat musical symphony which echoed eerily. It was insanely dark; with all of the windows boarded up this place hadn’t seen natural light in decades. I shone my torch up towards the ceiling and gazed at the beautiful workmanship of a crystal chandelier, again covered with spider web, dangling free and reflecting the torchlight in all directions throughout the lobby. It was then we saw what I was most fearful of. We stood and aimed our lights at the floor following a trail of deep crimson, scattered and rough around the edges; it was still wet and was leading us towards the semi-destroyed staircase.

“Looks like a blood trail” Grimshaw confirmed, following the trail with his torchlight.

“I’ll call for back-up, wait here.” He marched out of the lobby’s entrance flooding the room with sunlight blinding me for a split second before plunging back into darkness once more.

My head was swimming in thoughts but drowning in emotions; I wasn’t expecting to see a blood trail whilst trying to find my wife. Curiosity suddenly got a hold of me as I began running up the staircase avoiding the missing steps which had rotted from existence. The blood trail continued upwards towards the fourth floor where it swiftly changed direction and headed down a long dark corridor. I stopped running when I saw the change; scratch marks on the floor joined the blood. Somebody, possibly but not hopefully my wife, struggled with the kidnapper, and halfway down the corridor the evidence was building up. Quietly treading along the rotting wooden floor, pieces of dated wallpaper littered the floor, forcefully ripped off of the wall by the victim. Blood painted the wall a deep crimson as handprints sliding along the corridor began to emerge. More scratches of human finger-nails scraping along the wall became more visible and made the struggle more noticeable.

Outside Grimshaw was raging at the demolitions expert who refused to postpone the flattening, even though now it was a crime scene. Sirens rattled through the building like a muffled wind. As I slowly followed the blood on the floor and walls towards a doorway, my heart was racing and my entire body began to shake uncontrollably as the sudden realisation of what the evidence equates to hit me like a speeding train. I pressed my ear up against the door, hoping to hear mumbling from inside, although the considerable amount of evidence that piled mentally in my mind, I knew that it was unlikely that my hopes would be confirmed. I took a deep breath, covered my hand with my jacket and began to slowly open twist the door knob before…

“RYAN!” yelled Grimshaw from the other end of the corridor. My heart skipped a beat and I suddenly turned to face Tom glaring at me as stormed towards me.

“I told you to wait” he said with that look in his eyes that said ‘I’m trying not to be angry with you’

“Sorry. I saw the trail and just followed it” it was simply worded but it was the best I could do whilst trying to overcome the shock of startled.

“You can’t do this alone Ryan.” He placed both of his hands on my shoulders, turning me away from the staircase and into the direct path of the door knob.

I felt reassured by Grimshaw’s words, almost like he was an angel protecting me from harm. This time Grimshaw prepared to open the door and I was reunited with that stomach churning, sick feeling. He twisted the knob slowly; the empty building exaggerated the clicking as the door released itself. Grimshaw let go of the door and allowed it to open gently by itself revealing a sight that pushed me back into the wall opposite causing me to vomit violently on the already spoiled floor.

There she was, my beautiful wife; naked and mutilated, hanging from the ceiling by her hands with piano wire, ripping into her wrists like knives through butter. Blood dripped from every orifice as she poses there like the work of art by a nauseating and demented artist; lit by artificial light almost like she were being showcased. The lifeless expression on her face, riddled with pain as blood oozed from her mouth and eyes; her usual soft blonde hair now matted mass of red and her smooth skin now vandalised by open gashes peeling themselves away from her body. Grimshaw overcame the horrific scene first and attempted to enter the room. His foot tickled more piano wire, hidden in the darkness causing the body to fall dramatically to the floor. The excruciating sound of her leg bones cracking shot through the air like a bullet hitting me as I vomited more. Never had I thought that I would ever see such disgrace, such dishonour of the human body until now. The painful look on her face burnt onto my retinas as I ran back down the stairs and out into the open air, continuing to throw up. Grimshaw closely followed signalling for the forensics.

“Inside; fourth floor; follow the blood.” His words of dominance continued.

“You okay? Course not…stay out here, we’ll take care of it.” Grimshaw was famed for his words of reassurance however this time all I could do was ignore them, let the hero do his job and overcome what my eyes bared witness to inside Gemini.

 

I refused to go in again after that, I remained outside consciously reliving the scene over and over again. I was used to seeing murders, I’ve seen so many during my years that I have lost count. But something about seeing this was too much, even members of the forensics team had to return outside to vomit from the disgusting scenes inside.

Forensics teams, Detectives and Inspectors marched in and out with enough evidence to keep us all writing paperwork for months. Occasionally Grimshaw would return asking if everything was okay to which I’d nod and agree, on the inside it was a different story. Anger was slowly building up like boiling water as the constant thoughts and ideas of solving this cluttered my mind; and they kept cluttering my mind, until they brought her out.