The White Witch

by Rory B. Byrne

  Simon closed his eyes and saw it all again. He saw the familiarity between Harper and her mother. They shared more than attractive features. Somehow, the incident that took Phoebe and the event that took Harper and Simon’s arm had a connection. Even eight years apart, it felt like they happened simultaneously. It had something to do with the bloodline. That’s what Brian said.

  Simon closed his eyes. That intense burning in place of the right arm made it harder for him to think straight. He heard voices. More people came closer to the privacy curtains. He saw the first of many law enforcement officers.

  “Mr. Hinton,” she said. “My name is Inspector Lemont with Police Services. I want to have a little of your time. I know you’re recovering.” There was another officer behind her, peeking through the curtain. Either a constable or sergeant, they waited quietly for Simon to confess the location of a missing girl.

  “Mr. Hinton, Brian MacIomhair made it clear your solicitor must be present for us to talk to you about the events last week. But I implore you to tell us anything you can about the missing girls.”

  Simon frowned.

  “We have parents from America who are desperate to know what happened to Harper Biel and Amy Miller. Anything you can tell us would be constructive.”

  “They’re both missing?” Simon asked.

  When he spoke, it made the inspector’s thin black eyebrows rise in anticipation.

  “Yes, sir, if you know anything about their whereabouts, it would ease their parents immensely. I would greatly appreciate your involvement in finding these girls and bringing them home safely.”

  The woman was younger than Simon by a decade. It made it hard for him to believe the woman was old enough to do the critical job of detective work when she looked like a junior at the college where Simon taught for many years. He recovered from a slip of the tongue and felt mild nausea associated with extreme pain. It made him swallow several times, like he was gulping sand.

  Simon went through what Brian said to him. He rubbed the stump of his right arm gently. “Inspector, I am in an extraordinary amount of pain. I need to speak to the doctor. I don’t think I remember much about what happened.”

  Inspector Lemont slipped a business card from inside her jacket and placed it on the bed tray near Simon’s feet.

  “That is my card, Mr. Hinton. Anything you can share, anything you can remember. It will be most helpful. We’re nine days and counting with two missing American girls. I don’t think I need to remind you of the importance of finding them and bringing them home.”

  “I understand, Inspector.”

  She backed through the curtain again. Simon found the call button for the medical staff. He needed something for the pain. Simon had nine days to catch up on whatever had happened to Harper Biel.

  The Changeling

  The Inverness police department had a responsible staff of four full-time officers and four reserve officers. For the rolling countryside and parts of impenetrable terrain, two police Astras were enough for Inverness and the nearby hamlet of Eskdale. When Inspector Alice Lemont drove up following the missing person reports, she knew the moment the other male officers looked at her, she’d run into resistance.

  The Chief Inspector’s office assigned Alice the case because, like most people in the area, he assumed two American girls between the ages of eighteen and twenty-four knew better than cause trouble in Scotland.

  That far north, too far from the bustling troubles of Glasgow and Edinburgh, Alice felt differently about the Americans’ disappearance. Immediately, she ruled out abduction and human trafficking. She didn’t think the girls went for a hike on the moors—that was the majority consensus. Other law enforcement officers suspected they caught a ride to London or somewhere other than the areas they had the responsibility to patrol.

  Scotland polics had a big area to cover with a policing range of 28,000 square miles. The combined departments had over 23,000 officers. When Alice did the math, it made one officer accountable for 2,000 square miles. That was reasonable when it came to the lives of two young women, American or not.

  “We’re doing everything we can, Mr. Biel. I can assure you,” Alice said over the long-distance phone call. It wasn’t true, but it was precisely what the man needed to hear from her. I’d appreciate your cooperation regarding a list of her friends. And anyone outside her family who she’d visit while in Scotland.”

  “There isn’t anyone else,” Greg Biel said. Alice heard the frustration in his voice, thousands of miles away. “Who is the girl she left with? What about her family? Did they have something to do with Harper?”

  “Mr. Biel, I’d appreciate you are doing everything on your end, so we have everything we need here to locate Harper quickly.” It was Alice’s way of sidestepping the confrontation. In a blind moment of personal crisis, people quickly blamed others. The last thing she wanted was Biel and Amy Miller’s parents to go after each other through social media—or worse, face to face.

  “Let me do everything I can here, Sir. I promise you. We will do everything we can to make sure we locate your daughter.”

  It was what Greg Biel said following her promise that had made Alice take a more in-depth look into the family.

  “That is exactly what someone said following my wife’s disappearance eight years ago.”

  The call had ended, and Alice spent the following three hours in the closet-sized windowless office going over the missing person’s records for the area leading back ten years. She wanted to see if there was anything before or since Phoebe Biel’s disappearance leading up to what happened to Harper.

  Once Alice went through the police reports on the server, she left the office to refill her teacup. She found Constable Abernathy talking to one of the dispatchers. Alice liked James Abernathy. It didn’t have to do with their closeness in age. It had to do with his general disposition and the fact James not only appeared to care about the missing girls but willingly took active leads in the investigation.

  “Constable Abernathy,” Alice said. “Do you know anyone serving on the force eight years ago when Phoebe Biel left Scotland?”

  James was ruggedly handsome and a little taller than Alice. He wore the standard uniform of black wicking top and black trousers. He had the microfleece cover over the long-sleeve shirt and the black body armor. James faced Alice fully, almost at attention, while the dispatcher went back to updating the police social media posts about the missing girls.

  James removed the peaked cap with the Sillitoe tartan band—a distinct white and black checker dicing that made officers visible anywhere in a crowd or alone. Alice knew he was a man who grew up in Inverness. Unlike other officers, James stayed in the area when voluntary rotation took others back to the metropolitan areas. James liked the rural setting close to home.

  “Ma’am,” he said. “I believe Philip Edmund still lives in the area. I can see about fetching his number for you, Ma’am.”

  “Thank you, Constable.” Alice felt her smartphone vibrating in a pocket. She looked at the screen and moved away from James and the female dispatcher.

  When Alice pressed the phone to her ear, she found a secluded place away from eavesdroppers. “Sir,” she said.

  “How is your progress, Inspector?”

  Chief Inspector Westland was a man devoid of humor. In the few months working within his office, Alice never saw him smile once. He never took time to socialize, and the man had no wedding ring on his finger. Alice didn’t think he had time for a family because there wasn’t anything indicating he shared human interests by the lack of personal property anywhere in his office.

  Other people called Westland a changeling. Alice knew from her childhood. It was a creature of folklore that replaced the child in a home. Westland grew up disguised as a human, but he never quite caught on to emoting.

  “We’re still without any substantial leads, Sir. The K9
units picked up the trail leading from the Guesthouse to an area along the roadside where the girls could easily slip under the security fence for Equinox Technologies. We received authorization from the facility director, Brian MacIomhair, to search the entire grounds leading up to the interior gated grounds around the main warehouses. However, we’re not allowed to search inside the gated area.”

  “Did you get any indication from the K9s the girls went anywhere inside the facility?”

  Alice waited to answer. “No, Sir. But—”

  “Then, you’ve bothered Mr. MacIomhair enough with this issue.”

  “I believe, Sir. If we had access to the warehouses, we’d learn more about the girls’ disappearance.”

  “Inspector Lemont, I understand this is your first major assignment. Truthfully, I was apprehensive about giving you such a high profile case. Yet, I believe you well-versed with the laws to understand the difference between speculations, accusations, and proof.”

  “I do, Sir, but—”

  “Mr. MacIomhair isn’t a small town operator. He has political ties that lead all the way into Parliament. He graciously allowed you access to the private property. If your teams scoured the grounds as you suggest, then there is no relevant purpose to allowing you further access to the main fields.

  “I don’t know Mr. MacIomhair. However, I received a letter from his solicitors in London that makes a clear point you are not to communicate with Mr. Simon Hinton again. Frankly, Inspector, I don’t understand why you had any reason to believe he had connections with the Americans’ disappearances in the first place.”

  Alice had to take the knocks without interrupting. The man had a reputation for stripping the best of officers of anything associated with dignity. She knew that listening without interrupting was the best course when it came to interacting with the Chief.

  “If this assignment is too much for you—”

  “We’ll follow up with Biel’s family in Eskdale, Sir. I’m going to interview a man named Philip Edmund. He’s a retired constable still living in the area.” Alice waited, holding her breath.

  “This has to do with Harper Biel’s mother?” Westland asked.

  “Yes, Sir,” Alice said. “The Weatherspoons lived here for generations. Before Phoebe Biel relocated to Esbjerg, she lived with her sister in Eskdale.”

  “Do you feel the daughter took the route of the mother?” Westland asked.

  “I can’t answer that, Sir.”

  “Do what you can, Inspector. We’ve passed the information for the girls to Interpol. Since you’ve recovered both passports, I doubt either of them are leaving the country, unless under nefarious means,” Westland said.

  “I’ll keep you posted, Sir.”

  “Yes, Inspector Lemont, you will.” Westland ended the call.

  “Always refreshingly upbeat talking to that man,” Alice said. She pocketed the phone.

  Constable Abernathy stood some distance from Alice inside the department. She wandered over to him and fought the smile. James had eyes that made Alice stop thinking about work.

  “Do you know where I can find Mr. Edmund?” she asked.

  Abernathy nodded. “This time of the evening, he’s likely at the Three Heads. I can take you there if you like, Inspector.”

  “Yes, Constable, thank you. I’ll get my jacket.”

  Lost Americans

  The constant ceremonial addressing within the ranking bothered Alice more than she ever admitted. She fought long and hard to earn her place as an Inspector in the CID. Yet, it separated her from people who did the same job as her but scored lower on the exams. There wasn’t a place for everyone with the same rank in the police department.

  She didn’t know a lot about Abernathy. Alice knew he was a competent and confident officer who wasn’t interested in rank and file of Police Service of Scotland. The trip from the Inverness department to the local pub of Three Heads in Eskdale was a fifteen-minute ride at moderate speed. In the soupy white fog that layered over the countryside, it took longer when responsible people anticipated road hazards.

  “You grew up around here?” she asked. It was like staring into a cup of milky tea looking out the window of the Vauxhall Astra.

  “Yes, Ma’am, I—”

  Alice chuckled. “Look, I appreciate you separating or ranking through proper etiquette. “But every time you call me ‘Ma’am,’ I feel like I age one more day.”

  The constable laughed. He kept his eyes on the road, the little of it showing before the car in the wall of fog.

  “Call me anything else, Lemont or Inspector. The Ma’am thing is grating.”

  “You can call me Abernathy or James, if you want, Ma’am.”

  Alice narrowed her eyes at James. He remained looking through the windshield, scanning the lack of road. She liked that he had a sense of humor. Sometimes in Glasgow, Alice felt too many people were just like Westland—humorless, inhuman changelings posing as law enforcement.

  “You know we’ve had our share of disappearances around here for years.”

  “Oh?” Alice perked up.

  “Before now, for decades, people sometimes disappeared without a trace.”

  “You mean they moved to the city?”

  “Some think it’s more than that,” James said. He glanced at Alice. “There’s a lot of Old World culture around here. I remember when Phoebe Biel disappeared.”

  “The girl’s mother left the country. She didn’t disappear.”

  James remained quiet for a long time following Alice’s statement. She saw him concentrating on the road but holding back.

  “You think something else happened to her?” she asked.

  “I can’t speak officially for what happened. I remember Constable Edmund believed her leaving Scotland wasn’t under her own power. I know growing up around here; we had a problem with a lot of missing sheep. That changed following Equinox Technologies’ acquisition of the property where they built the facility.”

  “So, the sheep stopped falling into caves in the Highlands. That’s good, right?”

  “I’ll tell you, no one growing up around here spent any time outside in the dark. You didn’t go walking around, hiking along the road. Before that company bought the daoine síth, before they put up the fence and capped off the mounds, our missing sheep or people problem ended.”

  “What did you call the place?”

  “It’s Gaelic, daoine síth, fairy mounds.”

  Alice laughed. James remained determined and watched the soup swirling in front of the car. The wiper blades scraped the condensation from the windshield.

  “You don’t believe in that stuff, do you?”

  “I can tell you that in Eskdale, there are more people who believe in it than don’t, Inspector. We’re not talking about backward farm folk and sheepherders. Some people in Eskdale haven’t left the area since they took their first breaths. That doesn’t mean they’re not good people or a little dim-witted.” He glanced at Alice. “You know Chief Inspector Westland grew up here.”

  “Really?”

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “Well, I don’t know much about the man. I’ve been in his department long enough to know he’s efficient but not the most pleasant of people.”

  “I don’t know much about his family. They live about an hour north of here. But he knows the tales of the mounds as well as anyone else who lives here. We saw a drastic stoppage of disappearances following the fences and the company.”

  “Do you know what they do there?” Alice asked.

  James shook his head. He flipped the indicator and turned in the direction of the flasher. “No one who lives in Eskdale works for the facility. A lot of us thought they’d bring jobs to the community. The most we ever got out of Equinox Technologies was hiring local construction contractors to build the outside perimeter f
ence that surrounds the property. They brought private contractors in from London to finish the interior fencing and to assemble the Quonset huts.

  “Back when Phoebe Biel disappeared—sorry, when she relocated, they had a thriving enterprise in that place. The most we got in town were a lot of trucks stopping for petrol before they went south again. Once Biel left, it was almost overnight, the rest of the employees left, and the trucks stopped coming here.”

  “You think it has anything to do with Biel leaving?”

  “I can tell you from firsthand accounting, Inspector, Phoebe Biel leaving Equinox Technologies happened in a way that made a lot of us, including Philip Edmund, think they covered up the same thing that happened to a lot of people over the years—and a lot of sheep.”

  “That’s interesting,” Alice said. The vehicle pulled up along the roadside in the ‘no parking’ zone in front of the pub. She saw through the large window in the place that it had limited patrons inside. “The police had nothing linking Equinox to Biel leaving Scotland.”

  James shook his head. “You get people wandering into the mountains occasionally, mostly tourists, backpackers. We got Bill Laverty swearing his girlfriend Amy wandered off with the Biel girl. We have eyewitnesses who put the girls together wandering along this very road that night. They went on foot and out of sight in the same direction as hundreds of other people went and never came back over the decades. If you want my personal opinion—”

  “Yes, I’d like that,” Alice said.

  “I think Amy Miller, Harper Biel, and Phoebe Biel all went to the same place,” he said.

  “Where’s that?”

  “Into the daoine síth,” James said. He grabbed the car’s handheld microphone.

  Alice waited to speak again while James radioed their location over the police band radio. The dispatcher acknowledged. Alice recognized the voice was the same as that of the young woman James talked to at the department.

  “I will admit that the girls’ disappearance coinciding with the medical evacuation of Simon Hinton feels eerily connected. But our hands are tied. Westland made it clear. Without evidence linking Equinox to the girls, we won’t get a warrant to investigate inside the facility.” It made Alice think quietly for a long moment. The two of them sat together inside the car. She faced James.