Abduction in Dalgety Bay

by Ramsay Sinclair

  “Finlay? I thought that was you. I saw the car pull up outside,” we jumped and noticed Abbey’s curvaceous figure leaning against the front door frame. “Oh, Kirsty,” a warm grin lit up her face. “Are you staying for tea?”

  “Yes, she is,” I interrupted before McCall could respond. “There’s enough food in the house, isn’t there?”

  Abbey practically ushered us inside in a fit of excitement. “Always. This is an unexpected but pleasant surprise.” We paused for a loving greeting. “Hey.” She blushed and held my chin tenderly. I leaned into the delicate touch, glad to be in her surprisingly strong arms. “You’re late back. You seem to be making a habit of it. I’m not that bad, am I?”

  “Hello, you.” I pecked those familiar, warm lips, and we shivered in unison. “You’re the best thing that’s come out of today.” Her feathery textured lips inched towards mine, urging us in for yet another kiss. It was an addiction, something neither of us wanted to go cold turkey on.

  McCall was genuinely happy to see us so loved up. “Thank you for inviting me tonight, both of you. Finlay forced me upon you.”

  “I’m glad he did. Is a shepherd's pie alright? It’s in the oven now, heating through.” Abbey checked on the timer and tied the silken dressing gown at the waist.

  After struggling to untie my rope shoelaces that were done up tightly, I eventually thrust my shoes and coat into a corner in the hallway, as well as my stuffy tie. A provocative whiff of home cooking wafted among the familiar rooms that we called home. Abbey had become something of a multitasker since entering this relationship, and she somehow managed to juggle working whilst caring for me. I honestly don’t know how she did it, whilst nearly always baking sweet treats for the office to enjoy.

  McCall hung up her coat on the hook, too, used to the layout of the house since staying with us for a while during the drugs case. “Shepard's pie sounds delicious. I’ve missed your cooking since I’ve been back at my own home,” she admitted.

  “That would be lovely,” I added and started to root through the cupboards in search of three glasses. “Do we have any wine in the cupboards? I know it’s a weeknight, but after today’s case, we’re all in dire need of some.”

  McCall settled on the leatherette sofa. “I can’t. I’ve got to drive home.” The plump cushions propped her up, although she couldn’t stop her eyes from closing momentarily in comfort.

  “I thought you might ask that.” Abbey ran a hand through her dyed red tresses. Hints of her past brunette self were beginning to show underneath the chemicals. “Red or white? Or pink?” She scuffled in search of one in every colour.

  “Red will do,” I yawned and was promptly handed over a tinted bottle of red. Today’s routine had knackered this DI out.

  “So,” Abbey crashed about the cutlery drawer to find a corkscrew, “you both look shattered, to be kind. What happened today?”

  Distracted by the crimson liquid flowing into the glasses, some splashes hit the granite countertop. “It was hectic, to say the least.”

  “I bet the light duties drove you crazy,” Abbey cracked a grin at the idea that I’d knuckled down and stayed at my desk for the entire day.

  “I didn’t exactly do light duties--” I revealed sheepishly and walked through to the living room.

  “No, he didn’t.” McCall gratefully accepted a glass of water that had been carried over to her. “We all know that he’s a stubborn git.”

  Abbey didn’t seem entirely shocked at the admittance and began to set the table whilst listening to our tales of the station.

  “We had a new case come in, and I couldn’t sit there twiddling my thumbs all afternoon. I’m still a DI, and I still have duties, whether people like it or not,” I defended.

  “What sort of case? Must be serious if Kirsty’s actually allowing you to get involved,” Abbey interrogated as she wiped over some gleaming knives and forks.

  “There was a kidnapping. Someone took a young girl when she and her mother were on the school run.” McCall wiped her glistening mouth.

  Gasping in shock, Abbey nearly dropped a pile of napkins she’d picked up. “That’s awful. Here, in the Bay? I just can’t believe it. Things like that never happen here. They just don’t.”

  If only that were true. Kidnappings happen across the world, no matter the town or city. Bastards roamed the streets everywhere, multiplying like flies.

  “Afraid so,” McCall confirmed. “Right next to the primary school as well. Crimes like that are probably the worst kind to get, you know, because the parents can't do anything to help the kids even though they want to. We have to see these people at their worst, so helpless.” Beneath our crumpled shirt, our hearts ached for Mr and Mrs Carling. “Nobody would wish this on their arch-nemesis.”

  Abbey softened, and her glossy complexion shimmered from the amount of makeup she’d applied that morning. “I honestly don’t know how you two do it all the time, all this negativity. Before I knew you both, I truly thought the world was a decent place. Turns out, there are horrible people everywhere.” At this rate, she’d make a cracking detective.

  “I wish I still had those kinds of rose-tinted glasses on.” McCall sighed. “The world was our oyster when we were younger. Now, it’s more like a clam. Leaving our front doors is a gamble on what kind of horror that inhabits our town we’ll end up working on.”

  “The Bay does seem to be going downhill over these past few years,” Abbey noted, thinking of the situation as a whole. “This used to be a respectable place to live. But then the murders and things like that kept happening, and the criminals are coming out in full force.” She let out a hearty snort of sarcastic laughter. “I don’t envy both of you, that’s for sure. The whole drug case was enough to last me a lifetime.”

  “And me,” I scoffed and nestled into the cushions too.

  Abbey put the finishing touches to the dining table, a perfectionist on many levels. Everything had to be perfect when we had guests over to visit, even on casual occasions. It reflected in the manner she kept her appearance too. Always neat and maintained.

  “What are the parents doing now? They must be devastated.”

  “That’s putting it politely,” McCall stressed, gnawing a loose bit of skin on her bottom lip. That was a habitual tell she often did whenever anxious. “It happened in front of the mother. It’s unimaginable, having anyone snatched from your side, let alone a seven-year-old. It’s traumatizing for everyone involved.”

  Trauma was a funny old word, used to describe the feeling’s people could understand but never fully comprehend until they’d been through the situation themselves. For example, I could understand the Carlings’ distress but would never be able to comprehend the extent of their worry. Sarah wasn’t my child, and this wasn’t a kidnapping that had happened to us directly.

  It was similar to DCI Reid’s death. People understood the effect watching someone set themselves alight had, but nobody could comprehend the aftermath of doubt it had given me because they weren't in the building that night.

  Abbey opened the oven and was greeted by billowing steam that fogged up the freezing windows and created droplets of condensation. “Why did they take the girl?”

  “Money,” I said scornfully. “It’s always money. If we lived in a society that was penniless, I’d be a happy man.”

  “But,” McCall turned, “then there would always be new reasons for criminals to act upon their instincts. Let’s face it. Not everybody has the capacity to commit a crime. Those who do will always find a way.”

  “From the small amount I know, that’s true,” Abbey wriggled the oven glove off and grabbed a knife to cut the piping hot food with. The potatoes on top were slightly charred and crispy, exactly the way I liked. “Got any leads so far?”

  “A couple,” I nodded. “We found a note and a few different things at their business offices.”

  “At least there’s hope so far,” Abbey tried to be positive, an entirely different approach to the rest of u
s. “What about the new DCI?” Abbey winced. “Weren’t you supposed to meet her today?”

  A few china plates scraped as the food was dished out accordingly, spirals of fog rising upwards as it had been cooked thoroughly. The scent of this meal made a bout of homesickness wash over me. Whilst my family was generally dysfunctional, this was a meal we used to share when everyone came together as one.

  “She’s… fine,” I hesitantly admitted, not wanting to leap to any conclusions yet. I seemingly had a habit of sizing people’s characters up wrongly, judging by past experiences.

  “What do you mean by fine?” McCall was aghast. “She’s exactly what CID needed. Smart, efficient and she isn’t one to take people’s bullshit. She’s a good role model for the younger DCs and especially female ones at that. People like Rebecca. It’s the type of superior I wished I had when we started out in the force.” I had no idea McCall felt so strongly about this, but it was easy to see why. Superiors had the power to influence and shape a constable’s future.

  “She?” Abbey nearly spilt some food in a state of distraction at the news.

  The curiosity was evident in her tone and prevalent in the lack of eye contact we were receiving. There was an underlying meaning I had to decipher here, a thing that I could sense as natural jealousy. I knew immediately that this was dangerous territory. Uncharted waters even. There was a brittle edge to the question like a double-edged sword.

  Before being in a long term relationship, neither of us had experienced this type of innate insecurity about our worth. We two were constantly wondering whether we were putting on weight around the stomach area or whether someone else would catch each other's eyes.

  Loving someone was the best form of torture. There was a warm feeling involved but also a niggling sense of dread that you’d lose them somehow. Even hearing another man's name escape Abbey’s lips was enough to make me curious, too, not that I’d ever act upon that in a controlling way. It was simply a surprise hearing your partner talk about someone else, and in a selfish way, I wanted to be the only one Abbey ever spoke about. After her reaction to hearing DCI Harvey was a woman, obviously, this was the same.

  “Yeah. It shook me a bit too,” I tried to act nonchalant as McCall clearly didn’t realise what was going on here. She didn’t know what Abbey’s different tones of voices conveyed, whereas I did. “Not because women can’t be superiors or anything like that. I was just expecting someone along the lines of my other DCI’s. Strict, harsh and with a tendency to be out of line.”

  Heaving myself up to help dish out the comfort food, I made sure to peck Abbey on the cheek as a subtle reassurance that DCI Harvey was nowhere on my radar.

  Firstly, DCI Harvey was married, and in truth, romantic feelings of that sort were the last thing on my mind, even if she was an attractive lady. I would never go there with a team member. It was part of my personal rules. No work flings; they always ended awkwardly.

  “Is she nice?” Abbey said and seemed guilty about her unspoken assumption. Wiping a drop of spilt wine off my shirt, I continued to relay the short story. “It’s only the first time we’ve met her properly. I couldn’t say more, even if I wanted to.” We stopped at a gradual pause. “And you? How was your day at work?”

  McCall glanced between the two of us, almost certainly starving for tea after our hectic day.

  “Was crap as usual,” Abbey complained and proceeded to give us twice the normal servings, knowing we’d been busy. “The boss pretty much wouldn’t let me leave at the scheduled time as normal. I had to stay for an extra hour,” her cheeks hollowed whenever she pouted. Their boss often screwed his employees over, and I admired her patience for sticking the position out. If that was me, I would’ve quit a long time ago. “Take these over to the dining table, would you?”

  Being handed over two precariously plates full of meat and vegetables was quite the responsibility, especially when everyone in the room was hungry. It was like waving a piece of bloody meat in a tank full of sharks.

  “Grubs up,” I alerted McCall, who practically sprinted over to take a seat at the neatly set table.

  “Abbey, I’m so glad you and Finlay are together,” she said and tucked a napkin across her front to stop any overspill ruining the pristine white work shirt she’d worn today. “Your food is always top notch, and that’s no exaggeration.”

  Shining with pride at the compliment, Abbey finally stopped fussing with the oven and joined us. “That’s too kind. With that sort of flattery, you’re welcome to move back in and take Finlay’s place. John can come too. The more people, the better.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I rolled my eyes humorously and held a chair out for her to sit upon.

  “You see, Kirsty, when you’re around, Finlay always acts very chivalrous. If that’s not a reason for keeping you here, I don’t know what is.” We lifted our glasses in unison, following her lead. “To friends and great detectives, who will solve this case.”

  “I wish we had the same faith in us,” McCall dryly commented. “But cheers nonetheless.” Our glasses clinked, and we tucked in almost immediately, blowing the heat away from the meal before eating. Sighing in bliss at the taste and prospect of being able to sleep on a full stomach, we all dipped into a fulfilled lull of quiet.

  From outside in the street, a couple of vehicles raced by. Boy racers. Nothing serious. I barely paid any mind to them until one of their exhausts backfired. It sent a crack of sound bellowing and ricocheting down the road. A numbing feeling of ice-cold fear trickled from the tip of my spine to the very bottom, one vertebra at a time, rendering me frozen in the spot. I became very aware of my body, the movements it made when I inhaled, and the motion of my lungs deflating upon every heavy exhale. Whilst I could sense the wine glass slipping from between the grip of my fingers, I was powerless to stop it from happening. It fell in slow motion, its rouge liquid covering the table in inconsistent spillage stains. The nerves in my fingertips were incapable of responding in any form, overwhelmed from the shock.

  “Finlay?” Abbey called, but I wasn’t sure how many times she’d tried to gain my attention beforehand. Tuning in to the subtle distress in her voice, I blinked a couple of times over, and the hazy vision slowly became sharper. “Finlay, it’s alright. Finlay, can you hear me?”

  McCall was reluctantly attempting to pick up the brutal shards of glass that were scattered all over my plate, the supper now lukewarm at best. None of it would be edible anymore anyway since the entirety of the meal was covered in small pinpoints of fragments.

  It didn’t matter all too much, for focusing on eating was the last of my worries.

  “Finlay?” McCall tried instead, approaching me with caution. “The car has gone now. It was just an exhaust, nothing more. Just an exhaust,” she repeated, ensuring to maintain eye contact with me. “They were racing each other down the road. That was all.”

  “Yeah. Yeah,” I slowly found my voice. The disorientation felt like I was a walking, living zombie. “I know.” The pause seemed to last an eternity. “Here, I’ll do it.” I got involved with picking the splinters off the table, careful to avoid any further scratches or cuts.

  “No,” Abbey asserted. “We’ve got it sorted. Just sit down, and I’ll get you another plate of food. Okay?” She fretfully bustled into the kitchen, throwing distraught glances over her shoulder at the state I was in.

  Plastering a fake smile on and nodding enthusiastically, I wanted to act as though nothing had happened. “Thanks,” I muttered and dabbed at the wine stains with a napkin.

  10

  McCall

  After a few hectic days, I finally got the chance I’d waited for. Rapping thrice on DCI Harvey’s office door, I was spurred on by the motive of Finlay’s dinnertime breakdown. Things with Finlay were bad. The whole team knew that the day of the funeral. Still, I was sceptical and hesitated to act on a whim. Then there was the whirlwind of Sarah’s case and the distraction of the Carlings’ upset. But it became apparent to both Abbey and
me when the exhaust backfired outside that Finlay needed urgent help, no matter the circumstances we had been thrust into.

  “Come in,” DCI Harvey’s voice called out loud. “I said, come in.”

  Hesitantly following the instruction given, I opened the door to reveal a frazzled DCI Harvey sifting through reports and files. The room itself looked like a bomb site, with shredded papers covering the entirety of the desk and some spots across the carpet too. With all of DCI Reid’s belongings removed and sorted appropriately, this space was a lot larger without all the junk and sports trophies.

  “Ah, DS McCall,” she said curtly. “You’re exactly the person I wanted to see this morning. Do you know how much rubbish was in these files?” A brown folder was waved in the air. “Your last DCI barely did half the work that should’ve been finished, and I’ve been left to tie off the loose ends.” Huffing idly, DCI Harvey realised her frustrations were aimed at the wrong person. “Still, hopefully, it’s all over now, although I seriously doubt it with the amount of new stuff that keeps coming my way. Sorry. I shouldn’t be complaining. I’m the one who took this job.”

  Entering reluctantly, I showed the cup I held. “I come in peace. With coffee.”

  Laughing at the offering, DCI Harvey reddened at the goodwill and accepted the mug with grace. “You’re a star,” she commended.

  Shrugging with uncertainty, I felt like I was towering above her. “I wouldn’t go so far as that, ma’am.”

  “Modest as well. I have a feeling we’re getting along splendidly.” There was a healthy glow to DCI Harvey, one that wasn’t diminished by our early starts nor the competitive workload. “How’s Sarah’s case going this morning? I’m in need of a briefing. I’m trying to help where and when I can.”