"The scene of the crime. That was where he ought to be. There. Where it happened. Seeing for himself. Investigating. Taking charge. Taking the case by the scruff of the neck, by God. At the scene of the crime."
- H.R.F. Keating, Filmi, Filmi - Inspector Ghote
The only sound in the room was the darkhaired woman's short, panicked breaths. She whimpered, pulling at the tethers that bound her to the radiator. Her wrists were bloody after all her attempts to get free but she couldn't really feel the pain anymore. Her body was hurting and she is covered in bruises, bitemarks and cuts. With her feet being just as tightly bound as her wrists she couldn't move around much and when the man left he put something over her eyes, hindering her from seeing. She had pleaded with him ever since she came around but to no avail. Each time she spoke or uttered a sound, any sound, he had hit her…in the end she bit her tongue – no matter what he did. He had said…that he would let