Abduction in Dalgety Bay

by Ramsay Sinclair

  “You could be onto something there. Mrs Carling was left to pick Sarah up from school on her own.” I rooted in the various cupboards, rifling through stacks of unkept and unmarked papers. “There’s the first sign of an old-fashioned marriage. Isn’t equality all the rage these days?”

  “Yeah.” McCall peered and rifled in some drawers too. “I can’t imagine feminists would be very impressed if they heard about it.”

  “They’d come out in full force.” We chuckled humorously, enjoying each other’s company. I felt most comfortable when working alongside McCall and vice versa. “What’s in the drawers?” I called behind as she took a peek within.

  “Not much. Lighters. Empty bottles of drink. You two would probably get on like a house on fire,” she half-joked.

  “Very funny,” I mumbled and stared at a few plaques nailed to the beige walls. They had displayed a few certificates from various awarding bodies and staff photos next to them, one of which had an employee of the month star awarded on top of their picture.

  Their employee photographs weren’t of your typical office type employees we were used to. They were the sort of blokes I wouldn’t look at twice in the streets nor want to. I’d fear that my badge wasn’t enough protection against their muscles. These were the types of people that would never miss a day at the gym, having reached their peak fitness levels. A few of them would put popeye to shame and could probably crack an egg between their biceps if they tried.

  “What do you reckon, McCall? Could I ever look that fit?” I showed her the framed picture of the star employee.

  “In your dreams, maybe,” she chuckled. “Finlay… come here.”

  “You sound suspicious. What have you got?” I joined McCall’s side curiously. “What are those?” I jabbed my finger on top of the papers she was skimming over. They were dated and stained yellow with age. Some of the edges were ruined or coated in stains, dog-eared and not cared for appropriately.

  “Staff reports and files. They were shoved in those drawers too,” she informed me, already busy delving into the staff data. “Exactly what we came searching for.”

  “Huh.” I clicked my tongue. The drawer stayed half opened, and I spotted a few haphazardly stuffed letters inside. Enclosing my fingers around a wad of them, I flicked through each one in an orderly and logical fashion. “Bills. Debts.” I whistled, taken aback by one particular bill they had been sent three months ago. “Bit of a hefty one too. More than my house would sell for.”

  McCall read the letter over my shoulder. “I couldn’t even sell you for that amount of money.”

  “People would pay more for me than you. You nag too much,” I bickered lightheartedly. “What’s this?” I flicked to the last one, noticing it was significantly different to the others.

  Instead of having a typed address on the envelope, this one was written by hand. The letter that the Carling’s had mentioned. Curiously, I turned over the envelope and pulled out the letter within. On one side of the browning page, there were ink smudges covering some of the leftover space where writing didn’t cover. It must’ve been stuffed away for a while and forgotten about. It had already been opened and the paper slightly tinged with age. The seal on the reverse side wasn’t so sticky anymore either. I’d already checked.

  “McCall?” Her bright eyes remained glued to her own files. “No, McCall,” I tapped her bony shoulder urgently. “I’ve found the letter that Mr Carling told us about.” I thrust the note into her hand.

  “A price for a life, and ours is £20,00,” she read from the paper. “It’s got to be the kidnappers that sent this,” she confirmed my suspicions after finally examining it. “It simply has to be. Clear as day.”

  I raised my eyebrow as I safely tucked the letter into my inner coat pocket.

  “Before we go…” McCall slid the staff profiles towards my end of the desk. Each file held a snapshot photograph of the staff member that they corresponded with. “These two.” She opened the folders onto two similar looking people. “They seem familiar. I just can’t think why or where I would know them from. It’s got a note on their files from Mr Carling. These two employees are the guys that the couple hasn’t yet paid their full wages. These two men are still owed money.”

  I didn’t know the men she showed me, so I shrugged cluelessly. “You think they got a bit angsty about their payments?”

  “Well, they’re not exactly small, are they?” She pointed towards the photographs.

  She wasn’t wrong. Their jaws were of a similar structure, set in stone and mean looking. They seemed street-savvy, judging by the style of their hair and the slash on one of their eyebrows. The second had a tattoo on his neck.

  “They’re either brothers or cousins,” McCall presumed. “Jerry and Marvin Clark. They’ve got the same last name.” Her clean nails underlined their printed full names for me to see. “Roughly the same age too, so that discounts a parent relationship theory.”

  “They don’t strike me as the type to work for a finance company.” I gestured to our surroundings.

  “I see what you mean.” She snapped the folders shut and tucked them underneath her armpit for safekeeping. “I’ll get John to do a background check on them all when we’re back at the station. Meanwhile, we’ve got some questions to ask.”

  8

  When we finally returned to the comfort of the station, our shoes covered in grime and gunge from rats dropping and mud alike, it turned out that Mr and Mrs Carling had threatened to stay here until they had word about their daughter’s whereabouts. The team had moved them to an interviewing room to give them privacy and so that they were tucked out of the way. It wasn’t a sensible idea to have both parents sitting in the midst of the CID hub and hear all the interactions about Sarah, both the positive and negative.

  On second thought, the grim four walls of grey and nothing else can’t have been an entirely pleasant place to sit for well over an hour. The couple were barely touching each other and must have been mid-dispute when we arrived. Events of this nature could often cause rifts between families and especially the parents affected by the disappearance of their child. They probably felt helpless in having to hand their usual control over to a bunch of people they didn’t know that well, to us.

  “Mr and Mrs Carling?” McCall startled them when we entered the room on a mission. “May we?” She gestured to the seats opposite them.

  Mr Carling immediately sprung to his feet. “Have you heard from the kidnapper? Have you found Sarah?”

  The sparkle of hope in his eyes was evident, and my guilt overcame me. It was as if we’d given them a hint of false belief.

  “No. I’m sorry. We’re working on it.” The lump in my throat made it hard to speak. “We came to talk to you about some of the things we found at your offices, certain details that we picked up on during our visit. We found the note you told us about prior to the search.” Taking the handwritten letter from my jacket, I placed it on the table in front of us. Mr Carling could barely focus on anything. He was too wound up to be patient. We were in the prime position to notice the enlarged balding patch situated on the crown of his head. Stress-induced, perhaps?

  “It is indeed a threat, a premature warning. And the time has finally come for it to be taken seriously. As you both are already aware, it reads, ‘A life for a price. Your price will be your daughter, and ours is £20,000.’” McCall let the letter hit the table with a muted thud.

  “It wouldn’t take a genius to work out what the kidnapper wants, what the motive is here. It’s quite easy to understand.” I folded my hands together. “Money and a helluva lot too.”

  “Agreed, DI Cooper.” McCall remained calm. “It isn’t the most elegant of texts. This is our ransom from Sarah’s kidnapper. It’s got to be. The trouble is, there’s no other information written there, such as where or when the exchange is supposed to take place.”

  “We’ve already mentioned that it could have been planted by someone with access to your offices,” I reveale
d grimly in response. “And our team are currently conducting further research into the men and women employed by you, in case we can spot anything out of the ordinary to--”

  “We already told you, DI Cooper, our employees are loyal to us. They wouldn’t have planted that letter,” Mr Carling said.

  “It’s a lead that we have to cover. It’s our duty to, and I’m sure you can understand that.” Shuffling on the spot, I reread the letter for my own sake. “Presumably, we’re supposed to figure out ourselves where the exchange is going to take place, or the kidnapper is going to try to get in touch with you somehow.”

  “Get in touch?” Mr Carling double-checked.

  “That’s right. Whoever it is managed to get this letter to your offices and find Sarah’s whereabouts in the first place. This is someone who knows your routine and presumably has means of communication to the both of you,” I derived.

  Mr Carling couldn’t help but interrupt. Clearly, patience wasn’t a word in his vocabulary and mine neither. We butted heads like bulls for control of the conversation. “And what about the money they want from us? We don’t have £20,000 lying around. Nobody sane does unless they’re involved in dodgy dealings.”

  Mrs Carling squeaked, and both pencil-thin eyebrows shot skywards to get lost in her unruly lion's mane.

  “But we’d be willing to pay anything,” Mr Carling corrected and tapped his foot impatiently against the concrete flooring. “Anything it takes.”

  McCall put them at ease. “We can help you with the money. That shouldn’t be an issue. But until we have a time and a date for the possible exchange, we’ll continue to search for our criminal as quickly as we can. If we can get to Sarah without any money passing our hands, then we’ll do it. This isn’t your fault,” McCall assured. “This isn’t on any of your shoulders. Sarah is innocent, and we won't let anything happen to her. You have my word. We can only thank you for being open and honest regarding the communication between us from the get-go. Some people may have hidden the fact that they had prior intelligence to a kidnapping, and that would only make them appear guilty.”

  Mr Carling didn’t respond to his wife’s touch. It was like watching all the life being sucked out of his veins, and a small pang erupted in my stomach. We had to get their daughter home safely, for our sake as much as theirs. So that we could rest easier at night knowing we’d done justice for their family and a little girl was home where she belonged.

  The middle-aged couple still wasn't very impressed with the plan of action. “What are we supposed to do until then?” Mrs Carling wondered, without intending to be rude. “Look for her ourselves too and try to contact the kidnapper?”

  “No,” I cut in and chuckled sardonically. “That’s probably the worst idea in this kind of scenario. You should lie low whilst we do what we can, in case these people are watching the entire family. We don’t know what lengths they’re willing to take, and they’ve already got your daughter. We don’t want them to be too twitchy whilst Sarah’s under their care. Once Sarah’s safely out of harm's way, that’s when we can tackle this with our full force.”

  McCall was eager to contribute to my advice. “DI Cooper’s right. We should tread carefully for now until we’re aware of the situation at hand.”

  “So…” Mr Carling failed to grasp the concept of lying low. “We’re supposed to be useless? To let them get away with doing whatever the hell they please with my daughter?” Slowly but surely, a flush of rage flashed across his body, starting with his fisted knuckles and gradually working its way up towards his neck.

  “That’s exactly what we suggest,” I stated firmly. We didn’t need overly emotional and irrational parents making things much worse. “If the kidnappers know how much they’ve affected you, they’ll start hiking up their prices and their ludicrous demands. I’ve heard of situations like this where they started to play a cat-and-mouse game with the victim's family. We want to avoid that from happening here, aye?”

  McCall was the only one to reply with another aye. The weary parents were refusing to take our advice, but unfortunately, there wasn’t much they could do. Sitting here wasn’t helping Sarah anymore than it would if they stayed home.

  “Okay,” Mrs Carling reluctantly agreed for the two of them. “If that’s what you suggest, then it sounds like we have no choice in the matter.” Her husband didn’t seem to like the instructions given to them.

  “But for now, we all need some sleep,” McCall reminded them, a fake smile of reassurance plastered on. “We’ve got the uniformed PCs still searching the streets for a trail, and we at CID have got a bunch of new information to comb through. We’ll have an overnight team working on this too so that we’re coming at this full force.” Mrs Carling nodded hesitantly to my partner’s encouragement. “But none of us are of any use if we’re all exhausted.”

  “Well, I’m sure as hell not going to get any sleep until Sarah’s in my arms and at home, where she belongs.” Mr Carling gritted his yellowing teeth. “I’d like it if you weren’t distracting yourselves from finding Sarah.”

  Although he was rude, we couldn’t blame them for acting unreasonable, for they weren’t thinking straight. I had my own fair share of that on the night of the explosion, and I wasn’t in a position to judge them unfairly.

  “We gave you our word, Mr Carling, that this station won't stop looking for Sarah. We’re keeping our promise. Finding Sarah is just as important to us as it is for you.”

  Finally satisfied with my honesty, they reluctantly stood up to leave. We watched on with a knowing gaze. The sad fact of the matter was, the kidnapper could’ve done anything to the young girl, and that was hard for anyone to fully comprehend. They’d asked for money, but apart from that, nobody knew what their agendas were. I only hoped we’d find Sarah before any scumbag could harm her.

  9

  During the late hours of the evening, you could hear the crashing seas and lull of the neverending waves if you listened hard enough. Salt hung in the thick mist and dissolved on our tongues whenever we talked. There was a certain nostalgia to the scent of this place, and it reminded me of all the happy times we’d spent here. Dalgety Bay held a certain special place in our hearts, and I don’t think any of us had thought about moving away.

  Nowhere could beat the versatility of the town we called home. It contained everything a man like me could hope for. This was the simple life mixed with a ridiculously strenuous stint at CID. The best of both worlds, I preferred to call it.

  McCall’s car came to a halt, headlights on mid beam. Thankful just to be home, at last, the sofa and a comfort meal were summoning me. From inside the house, the light from the living room shone brightly, and I could see Abbey’s figure moving around in there.

  “Thank you, McCall,” I said genuinely and yawned, an inscrutable expression slapped onto her equally drained features.

  “Rest up, you stubborn git. You should have left the station earlier. Nobody expected you to stay all day.” She shook her head in disbelief. Shadows from the exceptionally dim night cast across her face, and they made us both seem more haggard than we already were.

  “We’ve got a case to solve.” Finding Sarah’s kidnapper was our top priority. Even though we were now off duty, we couldn’t help but talk about the Carlings. “I’m just praying the kidnappers’ll want their money so badly that they’ll keep Sarah in one piece.”

  McCall concurred. “Positivity is key. I’m trying to convince myself as much as I am you.” We shared a grim glance. “Anyway, you should go. Abbey will be waiting for you.” McCall gestured towards the warm and inviting house. “I’ll see you tomorrow, earlier than today if possible. I’d like to get as many traces on Sarah as humanly possible.”

  “Yes, boss.” I mockingly saluted. “This case has really lit a fire inside of you, huh?”

  “Of course,” McCall didn’t hesitate to reply. “It upset all of us to hear a kid’s been snatched from our very streets. Few things surprise me anymore, but this is jus
t the epitome of cruelty. It’s horrible knowing the kidnapper is frightening a girl much younger than them. It’ll scar Sarah for life. There won't be a day that passes where she doesn’t remember the time she was taken away from her family. She’s probably wondering where her parents are right now…”

  “Hey.” I rubbed her shoulder caringly. “We’re the dream team.” It made her laugh at the very least. “And I know for a fact that none of us at CID are willing to let the bastards get away with this.”

  “Thanks, Finlay. This should be the other way around. I should be checking up on you.” McCall frowned.

  “I’m glad the heat is off me. Sarah’s case is a distraction, actually. There are other people who need our help with more pressing issues than mine.”

  “I suppose. I doubt any of us will be getting any sleep tonight.” She stretched out and paid attention to a few cars passing down the street. “Mr Carling was right about something.”

  “Then why don’t you come inside for a while?” I offered. “There’s bound to be leftovers for supper. Abbey always cooks as though she’s feeding the five thousand. If we’re lucky, there may even be some cake.”

  McCall perked up at the suggestion of cake. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a burden, especially since Abbey isn’t prepared for my arrival.” She looked worried at the potential frenzy she may cause.

  “Abbey enjoys the female company. Plus, I want you to eat with us as a friend.”

  Leaving no room for a decline, I opened the car door and stumbled exhaustedly onto the pavement. I hopped around to get some blood circulating, and my breath fogged upwards in misty swirls as a result of the biting temperature. McCall reluctantly switched the engine off and joined me.

  That familiar Dalgety breeze nuzzled itself against our chests, making it hard to inhale without a struggle. Even my thick winter coat didn’t ward the weather away. The chill settled right into my bones, and the streaky sky full of copper and midnight blue hues were gradually fading to grey. It was like all the colours on an easel had been mixed together in a creative rage. Nature was artistry at its finest, full of inexplicable beauty that couldn’t be dreamt of in our wildest dreams. Standing slap-bang in the middle of the pavement must’ve seemed odd to the neighbours that were peering between their netted curtains. Most of them were elderly and enjoyed people watching rather than a night on the town.