Snatched! (Foley & Rose Book 6)

by Gary Gregor

  “Get in the driver’s seat!” the man hissed. “I will not ask you again!”

  Tracy glanced quickly behind her at the children. Eleven confused and scared faces stared in wide-eyed silence back at her and the stranger leaning threateningly over her. What could she say to them? How could she explain what was happening when she didn’t know herself? Whatever it was, whatever was happening to them, she had to hold it together. She had to be strong. Her students relied on her. If she lost it, who was going to tell them everything was going to be alright? Who was going to look after them? It was her job. She was responsible for each of them. Despite the confusion, and the fear, clouding her mind, she had to keep it together for the sake of her students. They were just little children. She could not let them see that she was utterly terrified.

  She reached for her hand-bag on the seat next to her and slowly slid sideways in her seat towards the aisle. Supporting herself on the rear of the driver’s seat, she pushed herself to her feet.

  “Leave the purse,” the man ordered. He dropped his shirt-front over his waist, concealing the hand-gun, and took a short step back, enabling her to stand in the aisle.

  “What?”

  “You heard me, leave the purse.”

  Tracy dropped the hand-bag onto the seat she had just vacated and looked back at the stranger. Now, they were very close together. He was very tall, she noticed for the first time. Her face was just inches from the man’s chest and she found herself staring at the press-stud fasteners of his shirt. She looked up. The man was smiling down at her.

  He held her gaze for a few seconds, like he was admiring her, then, he took a single step back, towards the rear of the bus. Now, he stood behind her. Tracy turned her head and followed him with her eyes. He nodded towards the driver’s seat. “Get in!” he ordered in a quiet yet menacing voice.

  Tracy glanced again at her students. “Let me talk to the children,” she said. She looked up at the man. “Please.”

  The stranger looked briefly at the children and then back at Tracy. “Make it quick,” he demanded.

  Tracy leaned sideways, looking past the man, at the confused faces of her young charges. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “Everything will be okay. Please stay in your seats. I don’t understand what is happening, but I’m sure everything will be okay. Please just do as you are asked and everything will be fine,” she paused and cast her eyes over the faces, hoping she sounded re-assuring. “This will be over very soon and we can be on our way,” she added, knowing she may well be promising something she could not deliver. She turned and climbed into the driver’s seat. As she did so, her skirt rose high on her legs, giving the stranger a tantalizing view of her thighs. She pulled at the skirt hem, preserving her modesty, and looked up at the man. The bastard was staring at her legs. And, he was smiling, again.

  “Okay, let’s go,” the man said.

  Tracy leaned forward, and looked down at the ignition key dangling from the steering column. Realising the engine was still running, she sat back and looked out at the vehicle ahead, parked at the side of the road.

  As she watched, Walter Tjapanangka, ducked out from under the bonnet and looked back at the bus. Tracy felt her heart skip at when she saw the questioning expression on Walter’s face as he noticed she had moved and was now behind the wheel of his bus.

  “Let’s go!” the man ordered, more forceful this time.

  Unfamiliar with a manual transmission vehicle, Tracy fumbled nervously with the gear stick and, as she searched for the correct gear, a loud grinding noise came from the transmission case somewhere below where she sat.

  “Use the clutch,” the man said, leaning close.

  “W… what?” Tracy mumbled.

  “Use the bloody clutch!” he hissed through clenched teeth, causing her to flinch.

  Finally finding and selecting first gear, Tracy released the clutch and the bus slowly gathered momentum as it moved forward.

  As the bus drew alongside the parked vehicle, Walter Tjapanangka stared at his beloved bus slowly moving past. From behind the steering wheel, Tracy was looking out the window directly at him. As their eyes met, he saw something in her face that confused him even more. Where was she going? Why was she driving the bus? He shifted his gaze and looked at the man standing in the aisle, close to Tracy. The man lifted his hand and waved. It seemed like a friendly gesture to Walter. Why was he on the bus? Where were they going without him? Why did Miss Tracy look so scared?

  When she had passed the vehicle and moved further down the road, Tracy glanced into the rear-vision mirror. Behind her, the second man, and Walter, stood side-by-side next to the vehicle with the bonnet up. She focused on Walter. He looked so lost and confused, standing there staring at the bus moving further away from him. What must he be thinking, she wondered? She shifted her focus to the second man. The bus was gaining speed and moving away quickly but there was something about the man standing next to Walter that looked familiar to her. Did she know him? Had she seen him somewhere before? It was hard to tell, and getting even harder as she moved further away.

  2

  Detective Sergeant Sam Rose pulled up on the street in front of his partner’s small, two-bedroom unit in the Alice Springs suburb of Sadadeen. He sat for a moment and looked at the Mazda, two-door coupe parked in the driveway behind his partner’s Ford. It looked new. Sam knew his partner, Russell Foley, did not have a new car; firstly, he would have told him, and secondly, Russell treated money like it was a crime to spend it. Besides, the tiny coupe was a girl’s car; at least that was how Sam considered it. Maybe Russell had a visitor. A lady visitor? No, he dismissed the thought. It could not be a lady visitor. Russell did not have a lady in his life. If he did, Sam would have known that also.

  Sam got out of his car and entered the driveway. As he approached the Mazda, he paused at the passenger door, leaned over and peered through the window. It was a girl’s car. The front passenger seat had an open box of pink tissues on it, and a tiny, pink teddy-bear dangled from the rear vision mirror. Definitely not the type of accessories Russell Foley would have in his car.

  Curious, he turned his attention towards the unit. Suddenly, the front door opened and a very pretty lady stepped out and pulled the door closed behind her. She paused momentarily on the small front porch and looked across at Sam.

  She was gorgeous, Sam decided immediately. About forty years old, he guessed; with body of someone twenty years younger he also noticed. Long, auburn tresses flowed down over her bare shoulders and a light, cotton, colorful, summer dress hung from very thin shoulder straps and fell to a point a couple of inches above deeply tanned, well-proportioned knees.

  The woman stepped from the porch and held Sam’s gaze as she walked casually towards him. She stepped between Russell Foley’s car and the Mazda, and paused at the driver’s side door. Sam was sure he caught a faint whiff of perfume wafting on the gentle breeze across the roof of the car.

  “Close your mouth,” the woman said with a smile, her voice sounding husky and very, very sexy. “You’ll swallow a fly.” She glanced quickly out to the street at Sam’s 1972, burnt-orange, Valiant Charger coupe. “Nice car,” she said. And, there was that smile again. She opened the door, climbed demurely into the driver’s seat and pulled the door closed.

  As Sam watched, she started the car, reversed out onto the street and drove away. He stood, rooted to the spot in Russell Foley’s driveway, staring after the car as it disappeared down the street.

  “You gonna stand there drooling all over my driveway or are you going to come inside?” Russell Foley called from his front porch.

  Sam turned and saw his partner smiling at him from his open doorway. He looked briefly again at the now empty street and turned back to face his partner. He thrust his hand towards the street “Who was that?” he asked.

  “A friend,” Foley answered.

  “A friend?” Sam asked as he walked up to Foley’s porch.

  “Yes,�
�� Foley smiled. “A friend.”

  “Your friend got a name?”

  “Of course she’s got a name,” Foley answered. “Everybody’s got a name.”

  “Does it start with ‘Hot’?”

  “No, it doesn’t start with ‘Hot’”

  “Was she selling something?” Sam asked.

  “No, she wasn’t selling anything.”

  “What did she want?”

  “Are you, my mother now?” Foley said.

  “No, I’m not your mother. I’m just curious.”

  “You sound like my mother,” Foley said.

  Sam looked at Foley’s hair. “Your hair’s wet,” he said.

  “I just had a shower,” Foley explained.

  Sam paused. He turned and looked back at the street, and then back at his partner. “Ah… ha!” he said, smiling widely at Foley.

  “Ah… ha?” Foley said. “Ah… ha what?”

  “Ah… ha, you’ve got a girlfriend,” Sam declared.

  Foley decided not to dignify Sam’s observation with a comment. He stared dismissively at his friend.

  “And… your hair is wet,” Sam added.

  Foley absently ran a hand over his damp hair. “I told you, I just had a shower.”

  “You… sly… dog,” Sam smiled. “You sly, sly dog. You’ve been indulging in a little pre-lunch entree with the pretty lady who just left.”

  “Do you have a problem with that?” Foley asked.

  Sam stepped closer to Foley. “No, Russ,” he announced. “I most certainly do not have a problem with that. I think it is great! Wonderful, in fact!” He opened his arms and stepped even closer.

  Foley stepped back. “Oh shit! You’re not going to hug me, are you? We’re in full view of the street. Get the fuck away from me!”

  Sam lowered his arms. “What’s her name?” he asked.

  “Jessica,” Foley answered.

  “And,” Sam continued, “how long have you and Jessica been doing the mid-day- tango?”

  Foley shrugged. “I don’t know… a couple of weeks, I guess. And, thanks for putting it so delicately.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Sam said. “I’m your best mate. Delicate is my middle name.”

  “No,” Foley responded. “Idiot is your middle name. What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “We’ve got a job,” Sam answered. “Communications have been trying to reach you. So have I.”

  “I turned my phone off,” Foley explained.

  “Can I assume the lovely Jessica is the reason for that?”

  “What’s the job?” Foley asked, ignoring Sam’s assumption. He stepped back into his house and led Sam into his small but neat and orderly lounge. Russell Foley was nothing if not a man of fastidious, neat and tidy habits. “Want a coffee?” he asked, ushering Sam through to the compact kitchen.

  “We haven’t got time for coffee,” Sam said. “We’ve gotta go.”

  “Go where?” Foley asked.

  “We’ve got a body,” Sam began. “Out in the West Macdonnell Ranges, half way between Haasts Bluff and Papunya. Our chaps stationed at Papunya are at the scene. An aboriginal male, shot in the chest.”

  Foley looked at his watch. “That’s two-hundred-and-fifty kilometres away,” he said. “It will be mid-afternoon before we get there.”

  “We’ll be staying out there for a while,” Sam said. “Bring your swag. We’ll bunk down at the police station.”

  “Shit!” Foley cursed.

  “What?” Sam asked.

  “I was planning on going out to dinner tonight.”

  “With the lovely Jessica?” Sam asked.

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” Foley answered. “Who else have we got who can go out there?”

  “The boss wants you, and me, to go,” Sam shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

  “Complicated? Complicated how?”

  “The dead guy was the Haasts Bluff school bus driver. He was driving eleven young students, and their teacher, to Papunya on a day trip…”

  “So, we’ve got plenty of witnesses,” Foley interrupted, sounding hopeful.

  “No, not exactly,” Sam said.

  “Oh? What do you mean ‘not exactly’?”

  “The bus has gone,” Sam answered.

  “Gone? Gone where?”

  Sam shrugged his shoulders. “If I knew where, it wouldn’t be gone,” he said. “It’s disappeared! Nowhere to be found! Gone!”

  “Hijacked?” Foley asked.

  “Looks that way,” Sam nodded.

  “Fuck!” Foley spat angrily.

  “Fuck, indeed,” Sam said. “Get your swag, and a change of clothes.” He winked at his partner. “Give the new girlfriend a call and tell her you are going away with me for a couple of days. She’ll understand. You have told her about me, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, I’ve told her about you.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  Foley turned away and hurried along a short hallway away towards his bedroom. “I told her there’s a village somewhere missing its idiot!” he said over his shoulder.

  “I’ll wait in the car,” Sam called after him.

  Detectives Russell Foley and Sam Rose, veterans of the Northern Territory Police Force, had been partners and friends for a long time, having first met when they passed through the Police Training Centre in Darwin over twenty years ago.

  Now, Foley and Rose were senior investigators with the Major Crime Branch, stationed in Alice Springs in the heart of the Northern Territory and the Australian continent. Their record as an investigative team was unsurpassed, with a case clearance rate admired by their superiors and envied by their colleagues with whom they worked.

  However, most long-standing friendships of any real substance do not necessarily equate to a trouble-free journey. Such relationships are never developed without encountering the occasional rough patch in the road and Foley and Rose were no exception.

  There was a twelve-month period some years earlier when their friendship was severely tested as a result of a one-off indiscretion between Rose, and Russell Foley’s estranged wife, Jennifer.

  Sam Rose was not a drunk, not even by the most obscure interpretation of the term, but, like most red-blooded, Aussie blokes, he loved a cold beer and a good red wine and, on occasion, was guilty of over indulgence in both. Late one night, disturbed by a knock at his door as he was preparing for bed following a somewhat over-enthusiastic night out with a few of his colleagues, he stumbled unsteadily to his front door and found Jennifer Foley standing on his front porch, wearing a seductive, “come-hither” smile, and very little else. As they say in the classics, “a standing penis has no conscience”.

  Jennifer Foley was well known to most of the members of the Northern Territory Police Force. Her reputation, garnered over many years, was that of a man-eater. She hated Darwin, and the Northern Territory in general. She hated her husband’s job and wanted him to resign and take her and their two kids back to Queensland from whence they came. So adamant was she, she was prepared to do anything to ensure that Russell quit his job and took his family back home.

  It was not that Jennifer had a particular penchant for seducing police officers, any one was fair game as long as he was male; and married or otherwise was of no significance. It was just that screwing her husband’s colleagues seemed, at least to her warped and depraved mind, to be the ultimate insult to her husband.

  Russell was aware of Jennifer’s infidelities; how could he not be. It was not like she tried hard to conceal her philandering ways. But Russell loved his two children, and for reasons even he, at times, could not fathom, he still loved Jennifer. Perhaps somewhere, somewhere deep in his heart, he believed Jennifer would see the error of her ways and re-establish the sincere, loving, caring relationship they once shared.

  No one knew the Foley marriage was doomed better than his friend and partner, Sam Rose. If there was ever any doubt in Sam’s mind, it was dispelled when he woke the morning after his mis-guided dal
liance with Jennifer. Jennifer was gone, taking with her his self-respect, his dignity, and his pride.

  Jennifer, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to get to Police Headquarters where she announced, in full cry, in front Russell and a squad room filled with Major Crime detectives, that she had just spent the night “bonking the brains” out of her husband’s best friend.

  The ensuing confrontation between Foley and Rose was never going to end well. Later that morning, when Sam arrived at work, there came the inevitable “face-off”. Strong words, embellished with shouted accusations and profanity-laced insults, prefaced an exchange of blows, most of which, poorly directed and of little consequence, were thrown by Foley.

  Unfortunately for Sam Rose, the one good, defensive blow he managed to land himself, was observed by the Officer in Charge of Major Crime who, on hearing the commotion coming from the squad room next door to his office, walked in just as Rose’s right hand connected with Russell Foley’s chin.

  In the wash-up, Jennifer Foley took the kids and returned to Queensland, Russell Foley was promoted, and Sam Rose, faced with an enforced transfer to a remote outback community, resigned from the force and became a private investigator for a prominent insurance company in Darwin.

  Following a series of murders in Darwin involving select members of both the judiciary and the police force, Foley and Rose reluctantly found themselves working together once again. Strained at first, the fractured relationship slowly began to heal and they were eventually able to put their animosities aside and resume their friendship.

  Ultimately, Sam Rose was invited back into the police force, without loss of rank or seniority, and Russell Foley was transferred to Major Crime in Alice Springs.

  Fast forward one year, and Sam also transferred to Alice Springs where he once again partnered with Foley and their relationship, both personal and working, resumed as though there had never been an uneasy hiatus.

  3

  Tracy Cartwright guessed she had been driving the bus for at least thirty minutes and, apart from turning left at the junction of Namatjira/Kintore Link Road and then heading north-east on Gary Junction Road, she had no idea where the ultimate destination might be. Although having never driven on Gary Junction Road, she knew that eventually it would meet the Tanami Road on the southern fringe of the Tanami Desert. She also knew this was dangerous country in which to travel. Traffic was scarce and the road conditions were atrocious at best. The bus was not designed to be driven on ungraded, deeply corrugated roads. Even travelling at low speed, the bus bumped, rocked, and jarred across the hard, dry ground threatening to wrench the wheel from her hands. If she lost concentration and crashed the bus, the consequences she and her students might suffer did not bear thinking about. Perspiration stung her eyes before running uninhibited down her face and dripping into her lap.