Abduction in Dalgety Bay

by Ramsay Sinclair

  It wasn’t taking long to realise that everyone in this world, criminal or otherwise, had their fair share of emotional secrets. We all went through similar pain, despite being two complete opposites. He was a convicted criminal, and I, an established detective.

  McCall’s voice had a brittle edge to it. “DI Cooper, do you need to step outside for a moment?”

  “No,” I declined and finished off the chilled water apologetically. Although sweating profusely, the crashing and ringing in my ears had died down. “I’m fine. It’s just hot in here, that’s all.”

  McCall let me be. “What my colleague is trying to say, Marvin, is that we’re sorry for your loss. It’s a hard time to go through, and we completely understand your reluctance to explain. Thank you for your cooperation thus far, but I’m sure you’re aware that we need to still treat this case carefully, and until we’re certain that your own alibi holds up--”

  “Sarge?” DC Taylor burst unprofessionally into the room, distracting us from the interaction.

  Both Marvin and I jumped at the sudden noise, wondering what the disturbance was regarding. DC Taylor looked rumpled, tufts of hair sticking up in all sorts of random directions and a light sheen of sweat dripping from his browline. The interruptions today had come in quick succession, and McCall was about ready to burst from confusion.

  “Sorry, but we’re trying to conduct an interview here, DC Taylor. Was it necessary to interrupt us? Isn't DCI Harvey around to speak to?” McCall wondered, bristling at the brash intrusion.

  “Yes. Sorry, sarge and sir, but it truly was,” DC Taylor insisted, his usually neat exterior crumpled and hectic. “Mr and Mrs Carling have received a message from the kidnappers. It’s quite urgent.”

  13

  After the revelation DC Taylor had brought to us, everyone seemed to move in quick succession. A message from the kidnapper could only mean one thing, that this case was progressing even faster than we’d expected.

  Of course, that meant Marvin wasn’t our guy. It wasn’t feasible anymore that he was the kidnapper, for it would be a miraculous feat to text the Carling’s whilst spending the past few hours with us. We were slightly embarrassed that Marvin had heard the admittance that we’d sized him up wrong, especially after the entire debacle surrounding Jerry’s death. I was a bit like a dog with its tail between its legs after pressing Marvin’s boundaries about his brother that inch too far. I was ashamed to be caught off guard when it turned out that we were barking up the wrong tree, anyway.

  “You’re free to go, Marvin. We’re sorry for any inconvenience we may have caused you.” McCall brushed her suit legs free of any dust or grime they may have collected whilst we were seated.

  “It’s fine,” he assured us with a gratified smile and stood up alongside us. “You’re just doing your job and keeping the families out there safe. All the people in the bay are indebted to you.”

  Maybe I’d prejudged him too early. Didn’t we all deserve a second chance? I had many chances from various people during my lifetime.

  “Thank you for your time,” I added in another subtle apology. I felt I had some making up to do. “Every avenue is worth pursuing.”

  “And I couldn’t be more grateful for the effort you’re putting in for Sarah’s sake. The Carlings and I are close, and this is the worst thing I could imagine for them. But I know God is watching out for Sarah, and I’ll continue to pray that she’ll be safe.” Marvin patted my shoulder almost condescendingly, hands rough and calloused. They were in desperate need of a thorough moisturiser.

  McCall politely held the interviewing room door open for Marvin, and we began to walk in a small group, intent on leading him to the exit. Our grubby corridors had a gradual stream of officers attending their daily business, a few squeezing in a bite to eat on their breaks or pouring outside for a quick cigarette whilst they could.

  What we didn’t expect was to nearly collide with Mr and Mrs Carling, standing slap-bang in the middle of the corridor. They were gathered around a mobile phone, which was held tightly by DCI Harvey. She’d escaped from being held captive in her office, undoubtedly bored with filling out files and seemed keen to get involved in the action.

  Mr Carling’s tall frame paced frantically, leaving his slim wife to weep on the spot without any comfort. We stopped to see exactly what was going on.

  “We heard they got a message from the people who took Sarah?” McCall cleared her throat to signal our arrival, to which the couple had barely noticed for they were too busy fretting.

  “It certainly doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination,” DCI Harvey deduced and skimmed through the text message. “How did they get your number, Mr Carling?” She adjusted the thin reading glasses that perched on the bridge of her rather prominent nose and turned to face Mr Carling.

  It wasn’t hard to see their distress, carved into their distraught features with as much attention to detail as a sculpture would give his masterpiece. Today, Mr Carling wore the same shirt as yesterday. Only it was covered in new patches of sweat stains underneath each armpit. It was like two buckets of water had doused him on the way over here. Without meaning to be rude, we turned up our noses at the putrid smell that emanated from the father.

  “Uh, it’s the same number as the business. They could’ve found it anywhere. It’s plastered all over the web, cards, shop windows. You name it.” The increasingly concerned father let out a yelp of exasperation. “This is hopeless. We don’t have the money they’re asking for. They won't give us Sarah without it.”

  DCI Harvey took off the glasses and put her patience and level-headedness to use. “We’re closer than we were before. The message has clarified a few things we didn’t know already.”

  Sensing this would need to be a private consultation, we tried our best to usher Marvin away. “Sorry about the distraction, Mr Clark. Please, excuse us. You’re free to go. Thank you for your time and cooperation.” McCall pointed a wavering Marvin towards the neon exit sign that would lead towards the reception. Accepting the instruction, he passed uncertainly by the disgruntled couple.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said humbly to the flummoxed father.

  It took a while for Mr Carling to realise who was standing in front of him, for he’d gone into a bit of an unpleasant daze. Once he realised, Mr Carling didn’t hold back from greeting his employee and flung his arms around Marvin. He was simply grateful to see a familiar face, I think.

  “That’s a very strong hug,” I disguised my comment to McCall with a not-so-subtle cough.

  “Marvin did say they were close,” she hissed from the corner of her mouth, unable to divert her attention from the embracing men. “They’re obviously sensitive. It’s quite sweet actually that they’re not afraid to show compassion for those they care about.” She referred especially to Mr Carling, who had allowed a tear to escape down his gaunt cheek. It was the first time I’d seen an interaction like that between a boss and an employee.

  “Sorry to interrupt this… reunion.” I stepped forward to cut in. “But we’d like to discuss the message you received from the kidnapper. It’s important to us that we get all the details so we can get ourselves sorted.”

  Marvin Clark caught onto the crowd watching them and cut their embrace to an abrupt halt.

  “Of course. We lost ourselves there for a while.” He wryly chuckled at Mr Carling. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other. They were there for me during my toughest time, and I’ll be there for you too, Bob. Keep me updated on Sarah.” He patted the father's shoulder caringly. “And, uh,” he waved towards us, “please don’t hesitate to call upon me if you have any more questions. I’d be more than willing to tell you everything I know.” Elongating his previously hunched-over spine, Marvin Clark left behind a trail of stale scents and a cool breeze in his wake.

  A nearly missable scowl was thrown by Mrs Carling towards Marvin Clark, shooting daggers into his back as he scarpered and followed the green exit signs. I noted that Mrs Carling and Ma
rvin had barely interacted with each other at all during his short-lived consolation. It was odd that she’d have animosity towards a man who bailed them out of a tricky period of their lives using his own money. Sensing a dysfunction that most families had at one time or another, it was probably best not to get involved with their private issues of that sort. I expected Mrs Carling was simply exhausted and didn’t mean to shun Marvin in such a manner.

  We were brought together by DCI Harvey, thrusting the phone into our faces to show us what was missed during our lengthy interview taking process.

  “The text came through around thirty minutes ago. Familiarise yourselves with the details, DS McCall and DI Cooper. Get to know them off by heart. The message was sent from an unknown number, and we’ve failed to trace it any further. It’s most likely to be a burner phone that was binned straight after its use.”

  McCall and I skimmed through the blatant text, which was short in length and blunt in language.

  Ferris Way. 15:00 in two days. Money for her life-cash only.

  “Three o'clock, in two days’ time,” McCall confirmed aloud the parts that were easily decipherable.

  “We’ve got the ransom, the time, and the date,” DCI Harvey confirmed gravely, tapping her heel in a steady beat. She was impatient. Anyone could tell. Weren’t we all at CID, to some degree? “The kidnapper is referencing a meeting spot near the tech warehouse in town. It’s positioned on a square, very easy for the vehicle to double back on itself or leave via the adjoining roads.”

  McCall hummed. “They’re trying to ensure they escape. They had a fire there a few years ago, and the whole lot of it went up in smoke. Finlay and I were part of the team that went and handed out some tea for the firemen. They were working around the clock to keep it contained, weren’t they?”

  Wiping a cold sweat from my brow from the first half of her sentence, I didn’t catch the final part of McCall’s utterance. “What was that?”

  “I was saying we handed out tea to the firemen,” she said again.

  “Oh, right. Yeah, we did.” The Carlings were confused at my discombobulation. “So, as we were saying, the warehouse.” I shook the familiar, sinking sensation away and focused on what was important here. “What does that location have to do with Sarah or you guys?”

  I stepped forward to let a uniformed officer squeeze past in order to reach the bathroom in the nick of time. They did a small gallop into the cubicles.

  “Is there something that’s significant to you two there? A reason why the kidnappers would choose that particular spot apart from the exit strategy? Maybe the location is a clue to who’s behind this,” I suggested. “Anyone you know that has a connection with the place or an affiliation of sorts?”

  “Not that I know of,” Mrs Carling informed us, equally unsure. Her husband shrugged too. They’d blatantly no clue why the kidnappers would choose that specific location.

  “The kidnapper must have picked the place logically,” McCall murmured. “The warehouse is one of the best places in town for an exchange to take place like DCI Harvey mentioned. From a criminal’s point of view, there are plenty of opportunities to get away if need be. In the afternoon, the workers will be safely on their shifts inside and will barely pay attention to what’s going on outside in the streets. There will be plenty of vehicles on the road to disguise themselves too.”

  DCI Harvey spoke on the team’s behalf, oozing authority from her efficiency. “DS McCall is right. As for the money required to get Sarah back, we can arrange that all to be sorted out for you. We’ll set up a sting to take place at Ferris Way,” she explained slowly. “Hopefully, by doing so, we can get the money back, catch the criminal, and rescue Sarah all in a day’s work.”

  “In the meantime, we’ll keep working and find out as much as possible regarding the kidnapper. That way, we’ll be prepared for who we're dealing with here,” McCall added helpfully.

  Whilst they were sorting out the important details, I caught a glimpse of a bag sandwiched between Mrs Carling’s slim arms. She was hugging the same one she’d brought with her when they first came into the station. The bag was made from a primary red colour, with a recognisable logo on the flap that was just visible.

  “That,” I pointed to the object in Mrs Carling’s grip, and everyone else looked too. “It’s from the primary school, isn’t it? On the same road where Sarah was kidnapped?”

  “Y-yeah.” Mrs Carling loosened her grasp and showcased the bag properly, rubbing her wet nostrils raw with a kleenex. “It’s Sarah’s bookbag. She dropped it when they took her. I thought you guys might need to search through it, that it would help you find her. It was a stupid idea and probably not very helpful.”

  “Actually, it’s very helpful,” I disagreed. I held my palm out slowly, waiting. “It’s the last thing Sarah had on her person, and that makes it all the more important.”

  Mrs Carling dithered hesitantly, reluctant to part with her daughter's last possession, but she eventually gave in. “Take it if it helps. But please give it back when you’re done,” Mrs Carling begged, her skin moist from crying.

  The material was warmer than expected and made from canvas.

  “Don’t worry, as soon as we’ve looked through it, you’ll have it straight back. There could be some indication inside, something we’ve missed, staring us in the face.”

  “What sort of indication?” the couple asked curiously, and McCall stared quizzically towards the bag as if she thought the same.

  “I don’t know.” This was only guessing, the kind of forward-thinking we were paid to do. Guess, link, and deduce. “Any teachers or students with a grudge? Weird notes, gifts, that sort of thing. If the kidnapper knew the route home you and Sarah normally take from the school, they must’ve followed or seen you previously. They knew where you’d be. Chances are, they could be involved with the school.”

  Many teachers and janitors had been charged with murders or kidnapping of children in the past. They had easy access to a school full of children and could easily gain their unlawful trust.

  “I agree with DI Cooper. It could be one of the school staff behind this or even anybody that you talk to on a daily basis, so just be careful with the type of information you share with people. Try not to mention anything about our plan of action, in case word gets back to the kidnapper somehow,” DCI Harvey confirmed my suspicions, still mulling over the message on their phone. “I’d like to keep a hold of this mobile too, in case they message again, or you feel inclined to message something to them. There isn’t long until the exchange, and we intend to go at this with all guns blazing. Metaphorically, of course.”

  McCall gave an encouraging smile. “Definitely. We’ll do everything we can to get Sarah back home and arrest the kidnapper.”

  DCI Harvey pocketed their mobile phone, concern etched into the newfound permanent frown on her forehead. “McCall can drop you home and make sure you’ve had a bite to eat from the canteen. Get some food inside of you. It may help to settle the nerves. I can tell you haven’t had a proper meal in a while, Mr and Mrs Carling.”

  McCall didn’t hesitate to usher them along towards the bustling canteen. “Leave it to us.”

  Once they were gone, DCI Harvey let out a breath I didn’t know she was holding.

  “Two days isn’t long, DI Cooper,” she said sceptically, crystal clear eyes holding something I didn’t recognise inside. “Do you think we’ll do it? Get Sarah home safely?”

  That was the last thing I expected a DCI to say. They were usually the first to instil faith and hope into the team. It was nice to see a DCI so… human.

  “I don’t know. Nobody can predict the future.” If anyone could, I wished they’d give me that kind of foresight to all of our cases. “I’ve learned that these situations are out of our control. But we’ll always try our damn hardest to do our very best.”

  “Well then.” DCI Harvey was outwardly impressed by my answer, and she struggled to hide her motivated grin. “Let’s sna
p to it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” We couldn’t stand there speculating all day long. There was work to do.

  “I’ll walk with you to your office,” she instructed. “We’ve got to brief the team, anyway.” It wasn’t an offer, more of an order that wasn’t allowed to be refused. “Oh, and by the way, DI Cooper,” DCI Harvey comically raised her eyebrows towards the school bag clenched between my hands, “nice bag. The colour suits you.”

  With the team briefed entirely caught up to speed and alternate drinks placed upon their desks, I’d retreated to my office. In my attempt to scoff a sandwich between writing and typing, bread crumbs littered the carpet as evidence of my snacking. Spotting Sarah’s bookbag propped up against my chair leg, I decided to see what could be found in there.

  “Let's have a look at you then,” I muttered and hauled the slightly weighted bag upwards. The velcro made a horrible ripping noise as my desperate fingers yanked it open. Sarah’s school bag was made so that it didn’t open entirely but only left a slit to wriggle items in and out. I had to slide my hand sideways to actually grasp any of the items inside there. Or maybe, my hands were abnormally large in comparison to a wee primary school child. The latter option made more sense.

  After spreading the various array of children’s objects on the tabletop, there wasn’t much to be discovered. So far, there was a school book, a water bottle, most of which had already been drunk, and a scribbled drawing Sarah must’ve finished in art class.

  Without bothering to knock, McCall came stomping tiredly into the office and distracted me away from my task.

  “Finished your babysitting duties already?”

  “Parents are worse to deal with than the criminals,” she whined and collapsed into a seat. “I had to force-feed the Carlings some lunch, and they kept asking me questions I don’t know the answers to. Of course, I feel awful for them being kept in the dark over Sarah’s whereabouts, but at the same time, we’ve got a ton of work to do. The Carlings are now safely locked away at home, where I pray they’ll stay for a while.”