The Chapel

by S. T. Boston

  As the four off them had headed downstairs to the kitchen the first of the single crewed units who were to relieve their colleagues arrived.

  "Mr. and Mrs. Harrsion?” Carol looked up taking her head from her hands. The man had approached from the westerly staircase, she'd been lost in her own mind going over the visit of the first officers at scene and hadn't seen him approach.

  Carol nodded automatically and said, “Yes.”

  “My name is Detective Inspector Samuels.” The inspector was dressed in a sharp and relatively expensive looking grey suit, his jawline defined a face that looked handsome in a slightly rugged way and was festooned by a short and neatly trimmed beard that matched his dark hair. He wasn’t an overly tall man, five ten maybe five eleven at most, much like her husband yet he seemed to exuberate physical presence. He reached where Carol sat; Rob was next to her with his hand on her back rubbing it the same way a parent might console a distressed child who’d just grazed a knee. As he stood before them Rob got up and shook his hand, his grip firm and sure.

  “I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you,” Rob said solemnly.

  The inspector chuckled and said, “Well usually when people come in contact with the police it’s because something bad has happened. Generally, whilst our presence might be needed it’s not always welcome. May I take a seat?”

  Rob gestured him to the recliner where he’d slept the night before.

  “Firstly,” Inspector Samuels said as he sat down. “Let me assure you that we are doing all that we can to find your son and daughter.”

  “We appreciate it,” Rob said. His voice sounded empty and Carol felt for him. While she’d all but locked herself away in her mind her husband had remained strong, answering the questions of the first officers on scene when she’d been little more than a ghost.

  The inspector lifted his arm, so the sleeve of his suit jacket slid back enough to expose his watch, it was a Casio, one of those retro looking digital types that had been popular in the eighties. He glanced at it and said, "So you noticed your daughter, Ellie, and son, Henry missing quarter to ten this morning, a little over five hours ago?”

  Carol nodded but didn’t speak.

  “Can you just run me through things, as precisely as you can from the time you woke to the time you called the police.”

  “Look,” began Rob sounding frustrated. “I appreciate what you’re doing, I – we, really do, but I have just gone over all this with the two officers who came out first.”

  Inspector Samuels smiled sympathetically and nodded his head, “I understand that it might be frustrating for you, but I didn’t get time to speak with PC Welling and PC Stephens fully before I came over. I know the basic facts but in order for me to assess the situation I need the unabridged version.”

  “I woke up here in the lounge, on this sofa,” Carol began, lifting her gaze to meet the inspector’s eyes and mentally preparing herself to go through it all again. If it needed telling it was best done and out the way. Inspector Samuels’ eyes were a deep hazel and met her gaze right back, fully engaging her, leaving her in no doubt that he was consuming every word she spoke. “The first thing I noticed was the quiet, it just seemed, I don’t know – wrong. Have you got kids, inspector?”

  "Two," he nodded. "Seven and ten, both girls. Kids and quiet don't go in the same sentence unless you're shouting at them to be quiet," he smiled.

  “Then I noticed the time, it was late. Later than I normally sleep, and the fact that I was on the sofa. I listened for a few seconds, but I couldn’t hear him.” Carol couldn’t bring herself to say her son’s name, for she feared that if she spoke it, she’d lose the partial composure she’d managed to gain.

  “Henry,” Inspector Samuels said for her.

  “If he’s awake before me I can always hear the cartoons or whatever he is watching on his tablet. I went straight to his room but then remembered that he’d bunked in with his sister. Sleeping alone in an old building gave him nightmares.” Had they been nightmares? Carol asked herself, wishing that she’d paid more attention to Ellie. “Something is wrong with this place, Mum. You might not be able to feel it, but I can.” Her daughter’s words raced through her head and she felt emotional pain flash through her like a hot lance. “The room was empty, and I know it might sound stupid, but I just had this feeling.”

  “A mother’s intuition,” Inspector Samuels agreed.

  “You could call it that, Inspector - yes. I rushed through the building and checked every room, then checked outside thinking that they might be in the garden. I then went to the road at the top of the drive.”

  “Can you tell me about the keys?” he asked, leaning forward.

  “I think it’s the stone, but it keeps the place quite cool,” Carol began, her voice so low the inspector had to lean further forward in order to hear. “Cooler than the night air at the moment anyway, so there is no need to open any windows, they were all locked. Your colleagues double checked that when they searched the place. The front and back door key are on the same ring, we had it hung on the peg by the front door. There is a spare back door key hung in the kitchen too, on a hook in the frame. Both doors were locked, and the keys were still on the hooks. We’d hung the main bunch up last night when we got home just before nine. What troubles me more is that the deadbolts were still in place, too.”

  “I see,” he said and rubbed a hand across his forehead pondering the puzzle.

  “It seems so impossible that they could just vanish from the building without unlocking the door and taking the key or opening a window, but I fooled myself that I must have missed something, that they had to have gone out somehow, but the more I think about it the more it bothers me.”

  “I spoke very briefly to PC Welling on the radio, he said that the only clothes missing are the ones your daughter wore last night and a pair of your son’s pyjamas, shoe wise we are missing her red Converse All-Stars and a pair of Clarks trainers, the kind with lights in the sole that flash when walked on?”

  “That’s right,” Rob cut in and she felt thankful for him taking over. “PC Welling, is that the male officer?”

  “Yes, Brain Welling.”

  “He all but accused my daughter of abducting our son and leaving with him during the night. I mean she didn’t even take her bag or her phone!”

  “I apologise if some of the questions or inferences he drew upset you. I have known Brian for the last two years, since transferring from Sussex. He’s what we call a career PC. Front-line from the day he signed up and will be until the day he collects his pension. What our front-line officers deal with every day can breed a fair bit of cynicism, comes with the job I’m afraid. He’s a good officer and I can assure you he meant no offence.”

  “It’s okay,” Rob said looking down at the floor. “It was just a bit hard to swallow on a day like this.”

  “I'm going to be straight with you both as if I were sat where you are now that's how I'd want it. This is a somewhat unusual case," Inspector Samuels began, sitting back in his seat and placing his palms on his knees. "We deal with missing persons every day, but most of them have either mental health issues, financial difficulties, or trouble at home, one thing or another that leads to them going. From what I can see none of those usual factors apply here. No history of domestic abuse or drug use, no previous missing reports. For all intents and purposes a happy, stable and healthy home.” He paused and smiled supportively at them both. “At this time, we are grading both your son and daughter as high risk missing. That’s because of your son’s age, the circumstances around their disappearance, the fact it’s out of character and from what we can tell they have no known means of financially supporting themselves.” Inspector Samuels paused again seemingly making sure they were on board with what he was saying. “To break it down in layman’s terms that means we will throw everything we have at this until we find them. I have a drone unit on route from Plymouth and NPAS, that’s the National Police Air Service, lifting from
Bournemouth. We have a unit at Exeter, but the aircraft is in for service, hence the delay. The Dorset craft will refuel at Exeter then head here to back up the drone unit. On top of that, I have requested a Thames Valley unit to check your home address. I will need details of any neighbours who have a key, other relatives and friends in the area, stuff like that.”

  “Not a problem, the Balsdon’s at number sixty have a spare,” said Rob. “I can get you their number If needed. As for the other details, we don’t really have any other family in the area save for Carol’s father who is in care. My parents are in New Zealand.”

  “Good, that’s just in case your daughter has headed home with her brother, or gone to a friend. I know it’s unlikely, but we have to check. I have also sent details to BTP, British Transport Police, and we have notified local taxi and bus firms. I trust you have recent pictures of both your son and daughter on one of your phones?”

  Rob nodded, “PC Welling already had me send them to your control room via email.”

  Inspector Samuels clasped his hands together, “Excellent,” he said. “They will disseminate those images to the likes of BTP and ensure they are shown on briefings here and all surrounding counties. If there is still no sign of them in the next few hours I want us to start looking at press releases, with your permission of course.”

  Rob sighed and said, “Whatever it takes, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “The lady who caretakes the building, Lucinda, and a few of the villagers are in the woods now looking for them," Carol added, meeting the inspector’s eyes once more. “She thought if they’d gone exploring in there this morning then they’d easily get lost.”

  “That’s good, the more hands on deck the better, so to speak. Let’s hope it proves to be that simple,” he cleared his throat and then added. “I have requested a dog unit, that is also coming from Plymouth. Unfortunately, the area has seen a lot of foot traffic, so it might not help, but anything is worth a try.”

  “Like I said,” Rob began, placing his hand once more on his wife’s back. “We appreciate it.”

  “I have also asked for digital media trained officers to come and check your daughter’s phone, her Facebook, stuff like that.”

  “All that is great,” Carol said with a wan smile. “But it still doesn’t explain how they went missing in a building that was locked and secure.”

  Inspector Samuels frowned casting deep furrows into the lines of his forehead, “No, it doesn’t. I’m being honest when I say that at first look, I would have to agree with PC Welling’s initial assumption, that your daughter left with your son. It seems the most likely explanation, and we usually find that the most plausible explanation is often the answer.”

  “Ockham’s razor,” Rob said.

  “Indeed, but something about the whole situation doesn’t sit right with me, the keys are causing me concern. Does anyone else have a key that you know of?”

  “I’m sure the Reeds have a spare, they own The Old Chapel, but they live in Wiltshire. Lucinda, the caretaker may have a spare but there is no reason that she’d give it to my daughter or come here in the middle of the night, and it doesn’t explain how they got out with the doors deadbolted from the inside.”

  Samuels looked at them. His face appeared momentarily troubled by the riddle, “I’m sure there must be a rational explanation for it,” he said. “One we are not seeing but we will speak to the Horners regardless.”

  “I’ve been telling myself that all morning,” Rob commented as a light knocking came from the front door.

  “Carol,” a voice called up from below. The three of them stood and Carol followed her husband and the inspector to the foyer. “There you are,” said Lucinda. Her face looked damp with perspiration and Seth who stood just behind her had visible damp patches around the collar of his white polo shirt and under the arms. “Sarah and Bob have gone on home, they guessed you’d have enough distractions without them barging in as well.”

  “This is the lady we mentioned,” Rob said turning to Inspector Samuels who joined him in the large arch of a doorway. “Lucinda Horner, she is the caretaker.” And then turning to Lucinda he said, “I’m guessing there has been no sign of them?”

  “We have covered the woods as best we could, must have walked miles,” her face creased with concern. “Not a single sign I’m afraid.”

  “We really appreciate it,” Rob said as Carol sobbed.

  Lucinda looked at her and stepping forward she placed a supportive hand on Carol’s shoulder. “I really don’t know what else we can do.”

  “You’ve done more than enough,” Rob told her. “Head home and we will call you if there is any news.”

  Lucinda nodded as a third marked police vehicle crunched its way onto the forecourt. This one had the words Police Dogs across the back windows in bright fluorescent blue. “Please do, we will get out of your way,” she concluded.

  The arrival of the dog unit prompted the two uniformed officers to alight from the air-conditioned comfort of the patrol car they’d been sat in, the other sat empty in the shade of the trees with the windows down next to a grey Vauxhall Astra that Carol guessed was the inspector’s. Carol watched as the officers shook hands and relayed very succinctly what they knew about the job and shared a quick war story of a burglary they’d all recently been to where the handler’s dog, or the Mighty Thor Paw as they referred to him, had found a burglar hiding under an ice cream van and practically dragged him from cover by his leg whilst he'd been screaming about police brutality.

  “Well you know Thor,” the dog handler, a stocky looking guy in his fifties with greying hair and a reddening face said. “His favourite food next to kibble is burglar.” From the way he spoke Carol had him pegged as being ex-military. Air Force, Army or Navy she couldn’t guess but his mannerisms and speech had undeniably been ingrained by one of the three. Greetings out the way he turned to the back of his specially adapted Ford Focus and lifted the boot lid.

  “Boss,” the dog handler said addressing Inspector Samuels as he noticed the three of them in the door.

  “Greg, good to see you, thanks for making the trip.”

  “You know how it is,” he said jovially and in a fashion of someone who had the enviable position of being able to leave all this behind him when he’d done his job. “The radio instructs, and I respond. Is there anything I need to know?”

  Inspector Samuels joined the dog handler to the rear of his car, “The area has been subject to foot traffic. Some of the locals arranged a search party and went into the woods. They’re out now so it’s all yours. I expect the scent will have become too contaminated, though. If that is indeed where they went.”

  “I figured the chance of getting a track now are pretty slim. We are spread so thin that by the time I get to where I’m needed I may as well have not bothered.”

  Inspector Samuels nodded in understanding, “Just do what you can do.”

  “That’s all we can do, Boss,” the dog handler said in agreement as he cranked open the inner door to his mobile kennel. Carol expected to see a fearsome German Shepherd leap from the back of the vehicle, the Mighty Thor-Paw in all his powerful K9 glory, however after a few seconds there was still no Thor to behold.

  “Get your arse out here Thor,” the handler said clicking his fingers and pointing at the deck. Carol heard a whimper that seemed more befitting of a frightened spaniel than that of a K9 crime fighter. Curiosity drew her from the door frame and toward the handler’s van where she joined Inspector Samuels who had a confused look on his face.

  “What’s up with the Mighty Thor-Paw?” one of the uniformed officers asked. “Heat got to him?”

  “Thor, now!” the handler commanded in a tone that could make an SAS squadron jump to attention. Carol peered into the shaded light of the purpose-built kennel. Cool air-conditioned air seeped from the van, it’s icy fingers of chilled air tickled at her skin briefly before the heat of the day consumed them.

  Carol saw
that Thaw was indeed a massive looking German Shepherd who on a normal day would strike fear into the heart of any burglar he chased down. Only right now Thor didn’t look brave or in the slightest bit vicious, he was cowered in the back of his kennel, small whimpers coming from his clenched jaw. His legs trembled, and his tail was slung up between his legs as if he'd just been scolded for taking a shit on the best rug in the house. The dog handler looked at his animal partner in confusion, which soon turned to frustration and he reached into the kennel to pull him out. Thor was having none of it, he snapped at his human master’s hand and backed himself so tightly against the wall of his kennel that it looked as if he were trying to mould into the painted grey metal it was made from.

  “Well if that ain’t the weirdest thing I’ve seen all day I don’t know what is,” the handler said as a trickle of yellowish urine began to flow from beneath the trembling animal. It flowed in a straight line until it reached the edge of the kennel where it ran down over the bumper and onto the shingle in a steady waterfall of acrid smelling piss.

  Looking at the frightened animal Ellie’s words ran through Carol’s head once again, “Something is up with this place, Mum. You may not be able to feel it, but I can.”

  Chapter 20

  Scotty watched as the lights of Cowes harbour slowly and gradually disintegrated into the falling dusk of Saturday evening. The warmth of the day had induced a shimmering haze that sat over the Solent, one that looked like a thin smog. The Island almost seemed to sit behind a veil, one that grew thicker the further away he drew and made the lights of the distant boats and houses appear to flicker epileptically as if at any moment they might just blink out.

  Through his hands, which clutched the side rail of the top outer deck, he felt a vibration run through the car ferry as its engines laboured against the swell of a departing cruise ship. The hulk of Voyager of The Seas slid past, dwarfing the Red Funnel ferry and making Scotty feel as if the two-hundred and twenty car capacity ferry were no bigger than a rowing boat. He looked up, the way someone might look up at a person stood atop a tall building and felt some envy toward the newly embarked passengers who lined the decks waving enthusiastically, and probably a little smugly. The service was busy, packed even and a few of the folk on the outer deck with him, whose trip high seas only spanned the eleven miles between Cowes and the Red Funnel terminal at the Town Quay of Southampton all waved back, Scotty too. When on such a ferry crossing it was kind of an unwritten rule that you had to, it’s just the way it was. There would be no enjoying fine dining for those on the ferry, it had one small galley-style eatery where you could buy an overpriced but not overly good tasting meal, usually fish and chips. There was a bar and a small coffee kiosk to purchase drinks at an equally inflated price to that of the food. There was no point moaning about it, though. If you'd not had the foresight to bring your own refreshments and you couldn't last the hour-long crossing without food or drink you didn't exactly have a lot of other options.