Buried Memories: A DS Albie Edwards Short Story

by Kimberley Shead

  The sky darkened and a rumble drifted in from a distance. Her eyes met Albie’s frustrated frown and she continued so quickly that the words tripped over each other as they left her mouth.

  “I didn’t…couldn’t…not straight away, no mobile pho…”

  “Wait,” Albie interrupted, “so where were you when you contacted the police?”

  The woman’s eyes widened at his urgency. “I had to walk home to…”

  “So there was no one else around, someone with a phone, someone else who could have phoned immediately?”

  “I just, I didn’t think. I wasn’t sure what to do. She was so scared, what if I’d asked someone dangerous?”

  Albie paced, pulled his phone from his trouser pocket, turned away, and spoke into it in hurried whispers.

  “How far are the woods from here by foot?” He cupped his hand over the phone as he directed the question to the woman, who was in the middle of justifying her actions to Darcy Nicholls.

  “About twenty minutes at a quick pace. I can point you in the right direction.” She began to talk Darcy through the quickest route.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Albie hung up his phone and strode towards them, “You’ll do more than that, Miss Ryan.” He looked up at the sky as lightning struck overhead and counted to twenty in his head before the rumble of thunder followed.

  “Grab your rain coat and the dog’s lead. You’re showing us exactly where you last saw the girl.” Turning his attention to Darcy Nicholls he said, “The team are on their way, but I want to be able to guide them to your sighting vantage point. A storm’s on our tail and we need to collect as much evidence as we can before it’s washed away.”

  An eerie silence greeted them the further they ventured into the woods. Dusk accompanied the silence, and with the dark skies and closely knit trees, the tension and urgency for the situation enveloped the trio. Miss Ryan trembled as they moved towards a roar of thunder and her dog whimpered when lightning cracked the sky and lit up the canopy over their heads.

  “Look, isn’t this dangerous?” Stopping, she shivered as rain fell from the sky.

  Albie ushered her forward, but Nicholls rested a hand on his arm. “Perhaps Miss Ryan can point us in the right direction. Where did you last see her?”

  She pointed further into the wood. Albie barged between the two women and jogged in the general direction. “When you reach a fallen tree which cuts off the path, turn right. That’s where I saw her, but whether she’s still there…” She shrugged, knelt by the dog, and whispered in its ear while stroking its wet coat.

  Darcy didn’t wait to watch her leave. Instead she followed Albie deeper into the woods, slipping on rain-drenched clumps of grass. Rain dripped from her hair down her face. She stuck out her tongue as she ran and caught raindrops. The cool rain and patted her face like a delicate finger massage. The rain was a long-awaited gift. The thunder and lightning didn’t bother her too much. She just needed to keep moving. She inhaled. The dusty haze of the previous few weeks was dissipating in the refreshing downfall.

  The silence was broken by a shout from a few yards away. “Over here, Nicholls. Ring it in, we need an ambulance.”

  She tried to control her breathing as she made the call and continued towards his voice.

  The outline of the girl, slumped on the floor, was unmoving as she came into view. Albie leaned over the still form, his fingers wrapped around her wrist searching for a pulse, her hand white and limp. He bent his head and put his ear against her mouth, then looked up at Nicholls and smiled.

  “She’s breathing. Shallow breaths, but she’s breathing.”

  Darcy met his smile with one of her own, bent forward, hands on her knees, and concentrated on slowing her own breath.

  Sirens blared in the background, and she nodded in the direction of the noise. She rose to full height, stepped closer, and glanced at the girl who lay on her front with a nasty gash to the side of her head. A small pool of dark blood formed from the trickle that escaped the wound.

  “That’s Shelley.” She brought her hands to her face and the relief she’d felt moments before tightened into a painful knot in her lower stomach.”

  Albie nodded in reply as he focused once more on the injured teenager by his feet.

  Darcy spun in every direction.

  “Where’s Sian?” Her vision blurred and she sat on the damp ground, bent her legs and leaned forward, her head between her knees, and focused on the count of her breath.

  Paramedics ran into the clearing escorted by members of the team. Albie made space for them to work.

  A small grumble of thunder mumbled on a light breeze followed by a feeble slash of lightning. The rain picked up again and Albie sat on a cut down tree trunk.

  He looked towards the figure on the ground and his heart rate sped up as she opened her eyes and returned his stare.

  Just like the woman in white had stared at him from the ground. He was back in the shrubs, a small boy staring at the pleading eyes of a beautiful woman who looked like an angel dressed in white laying in a pool of blood. Her hand outstretched in his direction. A man stood over her, his face deadpan. A knife held loosely by his side dripped blood while he stared in the direction of her outstretched fingers.

  An inbred instinct to survive took over. Albie trembled, kneeling in the undergrowth, stock still, too afraid to react. Even at the age of seven, Albie realised he’d seen too much. The dreamlike situation could be explained, he was sure. But not sure enough to make his presence known. He kept his eyes focused on his shaking hands and unstuck his dry tongue from the roof of his mouth, then tried to swallow.

  Pain nibbled at his bare legs, probably from a patch of stinging nettles and bramble scratches. He so wanted to drag his nails over the irritation. Instead he lifted his head in time to see the woman lifted from the muddy ground by the man with the knife, like a husband carrying his wife over the threshold. He changed direction and watched them walk further into the woods, the woman limp. Her head rocked to the rhythm of his movements. Albie could almost believe she was asleep but for the fear in her wide eyes.

  “Edwards, can you hear me? Shelley will survive.” Fawn squatted in front of Albie and studied his face. “A shock I know, but Shelley mentioned Sian.”

  For the first time since she’d spoken, Albie heard.

  He wiped his arm across his forehead and eyes, stood, brushed past Fawn, walked towards Darcy, and placed an arm around her to help her stand.

  “Are you okay? According to Fawn, Shelley’s mentioned Sian”

  She smiled, straightened, and eased her arm from his grip.

  “She’s still out there. We’ve work to do.” Darcy followed him towards the ambulance.

  * * *

  The doors of the ambulance were fully open. The internal lights mimicked spot lights on a stage—the main actors fully focused on the acts they completed.

  “How’s she doing?”

  One of the paramedics looked over his shoulder while fiddling with a drip. “The injury’s nasty, but she’s gained consciousness. A few stitches, a clean-up should be enough.”

  “Don’t suppose there’s any chance I can ask a couple of questions now?’”

  The paramedic started to shake his head. “No mate, our job’s to patch her up and deliver…”

  “I know,” Albie said as he reached for his warrant card. “Thing is, her sister is missing. Can you give us five?” Albie stepped up onto the platform, glanced round the second paramedic as she jotted information on a form before checking Shelley’s vitals.

  “We’re off in three minutes, mate.” He turned the drip on beside him, grabbing rubbish from the side.

  Albie sat in the cushioned chair at the side of the bed. “Hi, Shelley. DS Edwards, you might remember I visited your house with PC Nicholls.”

  Shelley’s eyes opened wide and she spoke, her voice hoarse. Albie leaned closer and just caught a whisper, “Darcy…”

  He gestured towards Darcy to join them. “
PC Nicholls is here, Shelley.”

  Darcy squeezed into the gap between Albie and the patient. She steadied Shelley’s shaking hand by wrapping it in her own. “It’s okay, Shelley. Where’s Sian? If you have any idea where she is, you can tell us.”

  Shelley leaned towards Darcy who patted her hand. “I hid her.” She stiffens.

  Albie nodded to his colleague and she took over, “It’s okay, Shelley. Where did you hide Sian?”

  Tears trailed down her mudded face. “I had to hide her from him. She was next. He was coming for her next.”

  Darcy glanced at Albie. He grimaced, his fists clenched. As she continued to reassure the girl, she wiped Shelley’s hair back from her face and dabbed her tears with a tissue. “It’s okay, honey, you did what you thought was right. Help us find Sian. Where is she hidden?”

  “In the basement of the White House, on the other side of the woods.”

  Albie jumped out of the back of the ambulance just as the paramedic started the engine.

  “We’ll find her, Shelley. Dry your eyes. I’ll see you soon.”

  “The White House?” Darcy asked, turning to Albie as she leapt from the back of the ambulance.

  Albie ended his call and began to pace past the spot where they’d found Shelley. “It’s a derelict house just the other side of the woods. The resident ghost house of the area. Kids dare each other to enter, but not too many have taken on the challenge to stay overnight.”

  “It’s been eight days. If Shelley hid her on the night she went missing, she’s been hiding her for eight days.”

  “I’ve rung ahead. The team who were searching the woods should be at the house now.” He started a slow jog as they scanned the horizon for the silhouette of a dilapidated mansion not yet in view.

  “What are we going to find? Eight days. What about food and water?” Darcy shuddered as she shouted her fears aloud. They jogged and stumbled their way forward, the light fading fast

  The twitter of his phone brought Albie to a standstill. He bent forward as he answered, relieved to have a breather. He listened. “We’re five minutes away, check the basement.”

  Neither spoke as they picked up the rhythm they’d had before and headed towards a building that kept most sane people away.

  6

  Fawn met them on the worn stone steps leading to the double doors which lay open and guarded.

  “The basement is not only locked but planks of wood have been nailed across. If Sian’s in there, she’d have had no chance of escape. It’s a windowless room.”

  They both followed with torches. The beam of the lights bounced just a few feet ahead, enough to warn them of hazards to avoid on the steep descent. A stench of rotten meat and waste clung to the hairs of their nostrils and was embedded in the back of their throats. The nearer to the bottom of the staircase they came, the harsher the environment. A dark underground world, the home of rodents that squealed as they scurried to avoid the intruders. A slimy residue covered the walls, while nature of a darker persuasion stained and clung to edges and hung from the corners. A crusty substance, putrid primrose in colour, climbed from the rotten wooded skirting and fed maggots. Albie lifted his hand to his mouth to fend off a pungent smell of rot.

  A criss cross of wooden planks nailed the door to the room beyond shut. Shiny nail heads gleamed in the torch light, out of place with all the rust, rot and decay.

  “So, do we know if Sian is definitely in there? Can you locate her position?”

  Fawn answered for the PC guarding the door. “It’s unclear. No sounds have been heard from the room, sir.”

  “Well, Rachel,” Albie attempted hide his grin, there would be time enough to wallow in the respect she’d just showed, “there’s only one way to find out.” He nodded towards the door and the officers began the painstaking task of removing the panels with a few hammers and knives they carried on the search.

  The first panel slipped after fifteen minutes, the embedded nails unyielding for so long. The wood underneath crumbled, a circular gap punched through at the base of the door. Albie lowered his chest to the rough concrete ground, trying to ignore the damp absorbed through the front of his shirt as he gagged on the rancid stink. Torch angled below the door, he scanned the internal room. An eerie silence hung heavy in the gloom of the abandoned space. Faint outlines of dumped, damaged, and unwanted objects, no longer useful, forgotten, and left to disintegrate. He strained his eyes, desperate to identify Sian’s presence. He turned the bulbous end of the torch inwards and tapped at the rotten door, wood crumbled away with each tap. Other officers took over with night sticks until the wood no longer budged from their touch.

  Albie shone a light on their work. The hole gaped, an invitation into the depths of the house. He just hoped Darcy’s phobias didn’t include tight places.

  “I know it’s tight Nicholls, but do you think you can wriggle through?”

  Darcy elbowed her way between Fawn and a PC still armed with a night stick. She knelt next to Albie. Jagged concrete dug into her knees and she winced with each movement. Albie shuffled back. She screwed up her nose as she caught a whiff of odour de drains from the front of his mildew green stained shirt. At least Albie was already wearing the worst of whatever she’d be lying on. Darcy’s stomach and chest tensed as she made contact with the cold damp floor through the thin cotton shirt of her uniform.

  “Pass me a torch.” She dragged herself forward, grazed her fingers around the splintered edge of the hole, and inspected the wood for jagged edges. She yanked at a piece or two and once she was satisfied, lifted her head.

  Darcy turned back to face Albie and nodded. “I’ll give it a go.”

  Thin lines, at the top of her nose and a furrow to her brow were the only signs of emotion he could spot as he studied her expression. She was their best bet, her childlike physique an attribute.

  “Keeping talking to us.”

  She mouthed a ‘yes’ under her breath, focused her mind on the hole and turned away.

  A dim beam from her torch lit up the immediate space beyond the jagged hole. She stretched her arms overhead and snaked her limbs and head through the gap.

  “You’re going great, Nicholls. If you can shimmy from side to side your shoulders should go through at an angle. Left, that’s it, slightly more to your left.”

  Wood splintered and stabbed into her upper torso as she angled her body to disengage her wedged shoulders. Each twist ate at her flesh. Once through, Darcy bent her elbows and dragged herself forward commando style, ignoring the boom boom of her heart pulsating like the baseline of a stereo speaker.

  “Here, take this.”

  Darcy reached for a second torch he slid into her path. She lit up a large semi-circle with both torches. Just on the outskirts of the beam, a dark bundle squirmed—a subtle movement, but movement nonetheless.

  “Sian, it’s okay. I’m here to help you. Don’t be scared.”

  Darcy looked back at the entrance. Both Albie and Rachel were in view, each gave her a reassuring smile.

  “Approach slowly. No unexpected movements. She’ll be scared, so it’s important you keep her calm. Medical help will be here shortly.” Albie gave her another reassuring smile. “You can do this, Darcy. Let’s get this little girl back to her mum, shall we?”

  Darcy tried to stand upright, but the low ceiling brought her to her knees. She crawled towards the bundle at the back of the room. Careful not to touch her until she could see her face, Darcy crawled into a corner and angled her body until Sian’s tiny heart-shaped face was visible from beneath a navy hoodie that swamped her fragile body. Darcy stared at the translucent skin the seven-year-old, pallid with a blue tinge, and whispered as if to herself, “You’re safe now, Sian.”

  Curled in a foetal position, the girl’s grubby hand slumped on an empty water bottle, her eyes are closed as if in sleep, and her blonde hair clung to her scalp in dirty curls. Crisp packets, chocolate bar wrappers and a sandwich carton surrounded her like the remains of offe
rings. At least she’d had some food. Relief flooded Darcy’s thoughts she leaned forward and circled Sian’s wrist with her hand fingers, searching for a sign of life. She smiled as a faint beat pulsed.

  Darcy crawled back towards her colleagues. “There’s a pulse, it’s slight. Where’s that medical help?”

  “We’re on it, Nicholls. Comfort Sian. It’s going to be loud. Wrap her in this.” Albie shoved blankets through the wooden hole in the door and wondered how she’d got through such a tight gap.

  He watched as Darcy wrapped the tiny body then lay next to Sian on the ground. Her fingertips gently stroked the child’s hair while the deafening noise of power tools echoed around the space, sending bone crunching vibrations through the claustrophobic space. When the last drill sounded, the silence was final and unnerving.

  Darcy whispered, afraid to penetrate the eerie silence. “Sian, help will be here any minute. You’re safe.”

  For the first time, she opened her eyes, the deep blue overwhelmed by her expanded ebony pupils. The water bottle she’d clung to dropped to the floor as she reached for Darcy and drew her closer.

  “What is it, Sian?”

  “Billy.”

  7

  An owl’s warning hoots carried on the breeze as they navigated their way back through the darkened wood in silence. Darcy wiped strands of unruly hair away from her eyes with the back of her hand, dismissing thoughts of what she may have touched in the darkness of the room. She dared a quick glimpse at her boss, who hadn’t uttered a word to her since they’d left the building. Lines formed on his forehead. He took one more draw on the cigarette, dropped the butt, and ground it into the mud before screwing up his face. “This is the last packet I’m having.”

  Darcy managed a half grin, breathed deeply, and increased her pace as they entered the clearing near the deserted side road.