Behind Closed Doors (Season One: Book 7) (Jessica Daniel) (8 page)

BOOK: Behind Closed Doors (Season One: Book 7) (Jessica Daniel)
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The smaller desks had been cleared away, replaced by long banquet tables in a U-shape covered with embroidered white tablecloths. Each place setting had matching fine silver cutlery, with a
crystal wine glass, and jugs of water spaced around. Heather tugged on Jessica’s wrist, leading her along one of the rows and standing behind a chair roughly in the centre.

Around them, the others followed, each standing until the only free seats were the three at the end that formed the middle part of the U.

Jessica counted quickly, being careful not to seem too obvious. There were twenty-eight people standing, with three free seats. Opposite her, Jessica spotted Glenn, who was staring across the
table towards her and Heather. When Jessica caught his eye, he looked away quickly. He was shorter close up but, if anything, that made him more intimidating. His shoulders and arms were brutish,
his chest bulging against his blue shirt. Jessica did not want to risk standing out, so she looked away herself, staring at the place setting in front of her.

She wondered how many of the thirty-one people knew what had happened to Liam Renton. Had someone around her drowned him and then dumped him in the Manchester canal?

Jessica glanced up as the doors at the far end of the room creaked open. Zipporah entered, wearing a long dress similar to the one Jessica had on. Behind her was a younger girl with long,
straight dark hair and unblemished skin that almost glowed in the fading sunlight streaming through the tall windows. She was perhaps nineteen or twenty, and looked around the room nervously, not
making eye contact with anyone. Her dress was shorter, clinging to her attractively in a way that again had Jessica thinking the rules about everyone having similar clothing didn’t
necessarily apply to all. Even though she would be the centre of attention in any room, the girl appeared far more self-conscious than Heather had done, traipsing behind Zipporah, staring at the
floor.

After they had taken their spots behind two chairs, there was a pause. Heather was gripping the top of the chair tightly, and Jessica could sense the anticipation in the room.

Finally, the door opened a second time and the man from the painting in the hallway walked in, beaming. The art was unerringly accurate in every way other than its size. Moses was wearing
sandals and a light brown robe. His beard and eyebrows were perhaps a little greyer but he looked as if he had just stepped out of the past, a walking cliché of every assumption ever made
about what people looked like in biblical times.

Moses held his arms out wide and bowed slightly before padding his way to the table and standing in between Zipporah and the younger woman. With a gentle nod, everyone took the cue to sit, a
thunderous scraping of chairs roaring around the room until everyone except Moses was seated.

He bowed his head, everyone following instinctively, and then started to pray. Jessica had been taken by surprise, noticing too late that everybody seemed to have their eyes closed. She leant
forward, double-checking she had the right number of people, only to accidentally lock eyes with Glenn across the table. His hands were clenched together but his eyes blazed, fixed on her
accusingly. She could understand why Heather felt uneasy earlier; there was little that was friendly about his manner.

Jessica snapped her eyes closed, listening to the final words as Moses thanked the Lord for providing the food, shelter and safety, before he said ‘Amen’. The word was repeated
around the room and then there was a second scraping of chairs as four people at the other end of the table stood, scurrying out of the room.

‘What’s going on?’ Jessica whispered.

‘They’re the cooks,’ Heather replied.

Jessica could feel Glenn still staring at her but ignored him, picking up one of the jugs of water and filling her and Heather’s glasses.

She lowered her voice as much as she could, nodding slightly towards the head of the table. ‘Who’s the girl next to Moses?’

Jessica put the jug down and leant back into her chair as Heather angled towards her, whispering. ‘That’s Katie.’

‘Is she their daughter?’

Heather shook her head gently.

‘Some other family member?’

Another shake.

Heather was staring directly ahead towards Glenn, who Jessica knew would still be watching them.

As the cooks re-entered carrying platters of food, it dawned on Jessica what she had missed. Of the people around the table, there were twice as many women as men. Not only that but the men were
almost entirely Glenn’s age – middle-aged and greying. The women were all younger, with Jessica one of the oldest. Moses had surrounded himself with men older than him and women who
were younger. Given the natural charisma he exuded, plus the lack of alternatives, any of the vulnerable girls looking for a father figure to protect them had one natural choice. Jessica glanced up
to see Katie gazing sideways towards Moses, awestruck, killing any doubt that she was anything other than his mistress. Zipporah had entered with her, apparently unconcerned. Either that, or she
had no choice.

Jessica didn’t get a chance to ask anything else as a large metal plate of steaming vegetables was placed between her and Heather, with a smaller bowl of sauce-soaked meat on the other
side. It was as if everyone around the table had been brought up by Jessica’s mother, taking small amounts and eating in near silence, exactly as Jessica had been taught to do when she was
younger. It hadn’t taken long for habits her mother wouldn’t approve of to develop after she left home.

The meat casserole was straightforward but tasty nonetheless. Jessica couldn’t quite figure out whether it was pork or beef but wasn’t hungry anyway. She rarely was nowadays, but
followed everyone else’s lead while trying to take a closer look at the people around her. There was only one non-white face, an Asian man who was likely the youngest male there. He was
certainly the only one who looked under thirty. Liam Renton had been twenty-four when he was killed, so he would have stood out as well.

Just as they were finishing, a chair scraped opposite Jessica. She looked up to see the woman sitting next to Glenn pulling her arm away from him, muttering a ‘no’ loud enough for
everyone to hear. She folded her arms but Glenn fixed her with a glare of such fury that she cowered under it, sliding back towards the table, head bowed. Everyone carried on as if it had not
happened.

‘Is that his wife?’ Jessica whispered.

‘Yes, Naomi,’ Heather replied softly.

‘What’s going on?’

This time the reply didn’t come. Jessica swayed towards Heather in case it was because she wanted to speak more quietly but Heather whispered a snippy: ‘You’ve got to stop
asking questions.’

Soon, the cooks returned, clearing the plates and glasses until the table was empty of everything but the tablecloth. Nobody stood, or spoke, sitting in silence until they returned and the table
was full again.

Moses stood, arms wide and welcoming. He looked along the lines of people smiling gently, focusing on Jessica for a second or two longer than the others.

‘It has been another lovely meal,’ he said, his voice reassuringly firm. He named the four cooks and thanked them for their efforts. Jessica joined in as everyone clapped
politely.

‘We do have some new faces this week,’ Moses added. ‘I thank our recruitment team for their efforts.’

Another round of applause.

As soon as Moses stopped clapping, everyone else did too. ‘Come now,’ he said, stepping backwards until he was in front of a wide fireplace surrounded by a thick marble step.

At first nobody moved but then Jessica realised she was being watched by everyone around her.

‘Go on,’ Heather whispered, as if Jessica should have known she was being summoned.

Jessica stood slowly, glancing from side to side as two men rose at the same time. They were both older than her, one with a bright red face, the other thinner than she was. They both had untidy
mops of grey hair and were wearing identical black trousers and white shirts, like waiters.

When the three of them reached the front, Moses organised them into a line, facing away from the fireplace towards the table. There was more movement of chairs as the other residents shunted
themselves into position so everyone could see what was going on. Jessica felt the same hum of anticipation that had been there when Moses had entered.

She was between the two men, with Moses in front, walking the line. Jessica did not risk meeting his gaze, instead staring at a spot on the far wall as she felt him running his eyes up and down
her.

‘It’s time for your assessment,’ he said, moving behind the thinnest man, asking for his name, date of birth, previous occupation and why he was there.

Jessica felt him side-step behind her. ‘Name?’

‘Jessica Compton.’

‘Date of birth?’

With everything pre-planned with Charley in case it came down to this, Jessica told him the truth.

‘Previous occupation?’

‘I worked in a post office.’

Her parents’ former jobs; safe and away from what she actually did.

‘Why are you here?’

Jessica gulped. She had known she was going to be asked this at some point, but hadn’t expected it quite so soon – let alone in front of a room of people. She felt more exposed than
she had when forced to change in front of Zipporah.

‘I’ve had a few problems in the past year.’

‘With what?’

‘Everything. My career, my family, my father . . .’

Jessica could not stop her voice cracking. She knew she had to be as truthful as she could. Giving a slightly false name and occupation was one thing but the more lies you told, the more likely
you were to trip yourself up eventually. She thought Moses was going to press her for more but instead she felt him moving on, until he was asking the final man the same questions.

His reason for being there, perhaps unsurprisingly given the red blotchiness of his skin, was because he wanted to escape alcohol.

There was a ripple of applause as Moses walked around them until he was again at the front. He nodded his approval, striding casually from side to side as he spoke. ‘Thank you very much
for sharing. One of the things we try to instil here is that we must trust each other. This is a different place from the world you may know on the outside. There it is full of drugs, alcohol,
degradation. A place where you cannot trust your neighbours, your own family. Here we work together to overcome our problems.’

He stopped to squeeze Zipporah’s shoulder before continuing. ‘You already know the rules for staying here and I expect you all to abide by them. We cannot allow people to break them
because of the catastrophic knock-on effect it could have on others who have been doing so well.’

He spun on the spot, turning to face the three of them. He scanned across them, nodding slightly. ‘I sense you are all ready to commit but first you must learn what trust is.’

Again he walked behind them, standing behind the thin man.

‘When I ask you to fall, I want you to trust me. Allow yourself to drop backwards. Do not put your hands down, do not try to cushion your fall. Trust.’

Jessica felt sure she had seen something similar as part of some dreadful training day but she couldn’t quite remember.

‘Fall.’

The man next to her flopped backwards awkwardly. Jessica didn’t turn to see but she heard Moses grunt slightly as he caught the man’s weight, lowering him to the floor as another
gentle wave of applause went around the room.

‘Thank you for trusting me,’ Moses said, pulling the man to his feet and inviting him to take his seat again. As he sat, the people around him patted him on the back and shook his
hand, inviting him into whatever strange family Jessica had found herself in.

‘It is the same for you, Jessica,’ Moses said, sidestepping behind her. She felt uneasy that he knew her name, even though she had told him only minutes before.

‘Fall.’

Jessica closed her eyes and dropped backwards. For a fraction of a second, she thought she was going to hit the floor but then she felt Moses’s hands slipping under her armpits, catching
her as air swished past her ears.

As he lowered her to the floor, his fingers cupped her breasts, squeezing them gently. In an instant, they were gone but Jessica was so shocked, she couldn’t speak as he took her hand and
pulled her up.

‘Thank you for trusting me,’ he said, stroking the base of her back before sending her over to her chair.

Heather patted Jessica on the shoulder, whispering, ‘Well done’, as everyone around her reached to either shake her hand or pat some part of her. She tried not to wince, suddenly
conscious of anyone touching her. Naomi even reached across the table, nodding approvingly as they shook hands. Glenn was unmoving.

Jessica still felt speechless. The last time she remembered being groped in such a way without her permission was at school by some boy who was too immature to know what he was doing. That
hadn’t stopped her kneeing him somewhere painful and telling him that if he ever tried it again, she would chop his hands off. Moses’s actions had happened so quickly that she doubted
anyone had noticed. She could still feel his fingers upon her, that gentle squeeze telling her more about him than his words ever would.

At the front, Moses was standing behind the final man.

‘Fall.’

Jessica was still feeling short of breath, threatened and violated. As she turned towards the front, it was as if she was dreaming, everything happening in slow motion as Moses stepped
deliberately to the side. The sickening crunch of the man’s head connecting with the sharp edge of the marble step reverberated terrifyingly around the room. Jessica had witnessed violence
first-hand, she had heard that splintering of someone’s skull in the past. As everyone gasped together, Jessica leant backwards, peering around the row of people to see a steady pool of dark
red blood trickling along the floor.

7

Despite the gasps, nobody moved until Moses nodded towards one of the women on the opposite side of the table from Jessica. She stood calmly, approaching the crumpled body and
rocking him gently to the side. Glenn and the Asian man stood too, picking the victim up and carrying him through the door they had all entered by, leaving a trail of blood as the woman
followed.

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