Buried Memories: A DS Albie Edwards Short Story

by Kimberley Shead

  A chill wind whipped leaves in a crazy dance. They undulated back and forth, unable to settle, unable to rest. Albie’s insides felt the same as he ducked down on the pavement huddled next to the rear of the car. He edged out with caution. Anger fuelled him as he thought back to parts of a conversation he’d overheard that evening. He’d been so excited to see his uncle, especially when he handed him a hastily wrapped gift. Lego. He’d run to the other room, opened the box, and tipped the contents over the carpet.

  “Are you crazy, woman? What would possess you to even get in touch with that monster?” Albie stopped fiddling with the bricks he’d clipped together, placed them back on the carpet, and crept into the hallway. Careful to avoid the creaky boards, he pressed his back flat to the wall and edged as close to the living room door as he dared.

  “Shh, Albie doesn’t need to hear this. And whatever you think about Freddie, he’s still Albie’s father.”

  “Oh right, ‘shh’…That’s your answer for everything isn’t it.” Albie’s uncle raised his voice before adding, “Wouldn’t want the boy to find out what a bastard his father is, would we?”

  Albie’s clamped his hand over his mouth and he slowed his breath. Each one echoed in his head and he was sure it would only be moments before he was discovered.

  “He’s seven, Morgan, All he really wants for his birthday is to spend time with Freddie. I just…”

  “You just what, Marianne? You just forgot about all the times I was called to the hospital? The times I nursed you back from near death?” His voice lowered and Albie had to strain to catch the words that followed as his mother whimpered.

  “Funnily, I don’t give a shit if Freddie’s his biological dad. As far as I’m concerned, he lost his right to have anything to do with this family when he decided to use my sister as a punch bag.”

  Albie slid along the wall. He felt a sudden need to be in the backroom building Lego bricks into towers.

  “It doesn’t matter anyway, you got your wish. Freddie Hurst is too busy to even spare an hour with his son. You can tell Albie. It’s going to break his heart.”

  The pain began as a small hard bud in the pit of Albie’s stomach. The realisation that the only birthday present he really wanted was denied him. But as the day progressed, the bud, fed by sadness, his mother’s false smiles, and his uncle’s lack of eye contact, had begun to bloom—a beautiful red anger, protected by an impressive stem covered in poisonous thorns that threatened to devour his innocent love for his father. He’d made a decision, used his lie, and got out of the house on the pretence of visiting Eva. He would see his father.

  Albie watched as Jaws strolled passed the car in front, bent down and chatted with the driver. Keeping crouched, Albie waddled to the back passenger door, took a breath, pushed in the button and eased the door open, expecting to be shouted at or grabbed at any second. The street was full and bustling with the weekend frivolity of thrill seekers and their raucous laughter, each so engrossed in themselves that Albie’s actions went unnoticed.

  He pulled the door to until he heard a click and sat still listening to his pounding heart until the beats evened out and quietened. From the back footwell of the darkened car, Albie scanned the back seat for the best hiding place. His throat tightened as he assessed few options in the oppressive space, the need to see his father stronger than his growing sense of regret. Thoughts flitted through his mind as if carried on the wings of butterflies. What if he’s caught? How could he explain being in the car? What’s the worst that could happen? With a hesitant sigh, Albie slid into the opposite footwell, curled into a ball and dragged a musky, damp blanket from the back seat.

  “Jerry, we’re dropping Gracie off on the way.” His father’s voice was loud and urgent outside the car. Albie shuffled his position and pulled the blanket over his head, the noise of the revellers was muffled and distant, but his father’s authoritative voice was unmistakable. “Now, Jerry.”

  Doors opened.

  “You don’t have to do this, Mr Hurst. The bus stop’s just in the next street.” Albie stilled at the sound of the woman’s disjointed pitch. It reminded him of the squeal a frog made when his cat played with it at the end of the garden. He’d often wondered why it tortured the animal rather than just kill its prey.

  “No problem.” Freddie answered as he slid in the seat beside her. He cleared his throat and stared straight ahead as Jaws indicated and joined a steady stream of traffic.

  * * *

  Albie opened a gap in the blanket as he heard someone shuffle across the back seat until her body pressed tight to the other door. He held in a cry as the pointed heal of her shoe stamped down on his hand. For a moment he thought she’d spotted him move under the blanket. She stared in his direction then shrugged her shoulders and shifted her feet so her legs angled towards Freddie.

  The woman wiped sweat from her brow, even though the temperature was a low single figure. He noticed the car window steam up with each loud breath she took.

  Freddie leaned in close to the woman and reached out. She stilled as he ran his fingers down the side of her face. A tender motion. Albie had seen Freddie do that to his mum before.

  “Relax, Gracie.” Freddie whispered and the woman edged into his side. Like a magnetic attraction they’d learnt about at school. Albie tried to close his eyes to his father’s action, but he couldn’t move. He sat mesmerised. Freddie’s fingers lingered around the base of the woman’s neck. In a single movement, Freddie straddled her. His hands tightened around her neck which reddened as he pressed both thumbs into her skin just above her collar bone and she shrunk back into the leather seat. The woman struggled against his hold she pushed her heals into the floor and pushed back further, higher. Trying to escape his clawed fingers. She was pinioned between the grip of his boney thighs and was going nowhere.

  “I wouldn’t struggle.” Freddie hissed. A whimper escaped her mouth.

  “Now, now.” He wiped a hand across her face. Snot and saliva crossed her cheek to her temple before mingling with her hairline.

  “Please, Mr Hurst,” she sniffled. Her voice was cracked and feeble. “I don’t understand, I’ve…”

  “Shh,” he curled his fingers into her hair twisted it into a fist and tugged. “It’s probably best to listen, don’t you think?”

  The woman gasped as his grip tightened. Her eyes glazed with tears and she was forced to face his sneers. He leaned in. His face contorted. His voice bubbled with anger. “I hear you’ve been disloyal to me, Gracie. Not the angel I thought you were…Pillow talk…It’ll get you into all sorts of trouble.”

  “I. Listen, I don’t…” He released her hair, cupped his hand, covered her trembling mouth, and pressed down.

  With a slow shake of the head, Freddie continued. “Too late, my angel. We’ll be there soon and you can confess. You can clear your conscience.”

  Jaws slowed the car and veered off the road onto an unlit track. The full moon partially covered by low grey cloud tormented them the further they travelled into the darkness.

  4

  “DS Edwards, we’re approaching the station.” Darcy’s voice, and the jolt of his stomach as they tackled the speed bumps, woke him from an unintentional nap.

  “Watch it.” Leaning forward, he reached out and grabbed the dashboard. “You’re supposed to brake before you take the corner.”

  “Ha ha, very funny. There’s nothing wrong with my driving. You’re just in shock because I had to wake you up.”

  “I wasn’t asleep. Just resting my eyes. I thought I was in capable hands. Obviously mistaken.”

  She reversed into a tight space between two badly parked cars. Albie grinned and shook his head before squeezing out of the acute gap, desperate not to scrape the door of the blue Ford Escort in the next parking bay.

  “Here.” She threw the keys over the roof of the car and he caught them between his fingers. “You can drive in future.” She strode towards the front of the building.

  “Oh come o
n,” he shouted after her, “I was only messing with you. Nicholls, wait will you.” Albie jogged to catch up. The need for a smoke increasing, he reached in his pocket, tapped the ciggie box, but resisted the temptation to leave Darcy Nicholls to her sulk.

  As he turned the corner he spotted her, back against the wall, standing on one leg, the other bent, foot supported by the wall, her head in her hands. Albie shuffled, raised his hand about to comfort her, then thought better and cleared his throat.

  Darcy sniffed and looked his way before pulling out a tissue to dab her eyes.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it, you know, your driving.” He looked at his shoes and notices scuff marks that weren’t there earlier. “It was supposed to be a joke.”

  Darcy spluttered a laugh and blew her nose, raised her lightly blotched face to his and smiled.

  “I’m not that delicate, sir. It’s just, well it’s been quite a shock for me today. My first experience of a dead body, a child.” Her voice cracked and she took a few deep breaths before continuing.

  “I messed up. Knocked equipment over, probably contaminated a crime scene, then made you angry. All in all, a day I’d like to end now.”

  Albie studied her face for a moment. The couldn’t disagree she hadn’t had the best day, but there were times when the truth mattered and this wasn’t one of them.

  “Listen, so today was a bad day. After three days with the team, your first murder case, I think you can be forgiven.” He strolled on in the direction of the main entrance. “Come on, you don’t want to finish the day being late for the briefing.”

  Darcy pushed herself off the wall, straightened her uniform, licked a new tissue, and wiped mascara from under her eyes before smoothing down her hair and making a mental note to visit the toilets at the first possible opportunity.

  Catching up with Albie, she said, “You still didn’t say anything about what I did to anger you earlier.” She watched as he flexed his jaw and his shoulders stiffened. “I just thought if I knew what I’d done, I’d be less likely to make the same mistake again.”

  Albie stopped and gripped her arm. The momentum spun her round, Darcie’s eyes were wide. His breath was warm on her face as he spoke through gritted teeth.

  “PC Nicholls, if we’re going to work together, I’m not going to make excuses for my behaviour. Let’s just say you asked a question that hit a nerve. Now I’m going to get us both a drink. I suggest you go and wash your face. I’ll meet you in the incident room. Tomorrow is a new day. We’ll start afresh.” He released her arm, spun away, and jogged into the building.

  Darcy rubbed her upper arm. She didn’t have to look to know his fingers had left an imprint. She rooted around in her bag for nothing in particular until her heart beat a regular rhythm, followed her boss through the doors, and headed for the toilets.

  Albie fumbled in his pocket for some coins to exchange for the two cans of refrigerated coke.

  “You’re fortunate,” Joan stood in an apron and hair net behind the counter and smiled, unpacking more cans into the crammed fridge. “The chilled ones, they’re in demand. Want something to eat? Just that I’m packing up soon.”

  In the incident room, he handed over a cheese and pickle sandwich and the drink to a fresher-faced Darcy. “How did you guess?” She lifted the sandwich in appreciation. “I suppose my grumbling stomach gave me away.”

  He turned to answer her but instead stared ahead in silence. Rachel Fawn, brisk-footed with a look determination in her round eyes under her creased brow, was making straight for him, unapologising to those she elbowed past who just happened to be standing between her and the target.

  “Bit of a bull’s up at the crime scene, I heard, Acting DS Edwards.” The semblance of a grin grazed her lips, and her emphasis on acting was unmistakable. Albie scanned her eyes and waited for her to continue. He was more worried about what was going on in his colleagues conniving mind.

  Rachel Fawn, like all great challengers in history, had her eye on usurping his throne. Knowing that the Detective Sergeant’s position wasn’t his yet, he decided to remain cagey. He sipped from the can before speaking.

  “So, Fawn, did you arrest that flasher on the estate today?”

  She looked up at him, winked, and grinned a secretive all-knowing smile.

  “You’ll find out soon enough. Let’s just say it’s good one of us knows our arse from our armpit.” She winked at him before heading back towards her group of cronies at the front of the room.

  “What’s she got to be so pleased about? Didn’t we find a dead child today?”

  Albie shrugged and took another slug of coke which was now lukewarm and flat. He followed the swing of Fawn’s hips, as purposeful and triumphant as her speech. She retreated, head held high. In that moment, Albie knew, as a colleague, she would always be an enemy. If it was just professional jealousy, that he could deal with, but this was deeper. Rachel Fawn saw beneath his facade. The mask of indifference, prepared daily and worn like war paint, to Fawn, was a transparent skin. If she peeled it away it would expose a father’s son. No matter his denial, he feared Fawn for reasons beyond his own understanding.

  “Afternoon team. Just a quick update.” DI Sarah Masters scanned the room until her eyes reached Albie, where she settled.

  “You’ll be pleased to hear, we’re near to arrests. I say arrests with trepidation. It appears we may have stumbled across a paedophile ring.”

  Albie cleared his throat and lowered his head, uncomfortable with the DI’s stare. How had this happened without his knowledge? Wasn’t he supposed to be Acting DS? Yet Rachel Fawn knew enough to taunt him before the briefing. He shook his head, bewildered. Could this day get any worse?

  “…so keep up the good work, we need you to be vigilant and follow every lead from the public. There are witnesses on the estate who are oblivious to what they’ve seen. Let’s jog a few memories, shall we? DS Edwards, a word please.”

  Albie walked towards DI Masters, ignoring the stares from colleagues and avoiding eye contact especially with Darcy Nicholls. Masters walked through the double doors which led into a narrow corridor painted industrial magnolia with hardwearing brown cord carpet. Apart from name plaques next to the doors of the offices, the walls were nondescript.

  A throb echoed behind his ear and sweat soaked his armpits, so removing his jacket was out of the question. He struggled to control his breathing. Focus was almost impossible. He began by staring at Master’s mouth in an attempt to lip read.

  “Well?” She waited and watched his face go through different emotions before continuing, “No answer or trying to find the answer you think I want to hear?”

  “Of course I’d rather say what you want to hear. You’ve given me this opportunity to be Acting DS and I don’t want to mess up. As it happens, I missed your question.”

  A slight smile grazed the corner of her mouth before she looked him in the eye once more. “Ready now, DS Edwards?”

  “Go ahead,” he said, fully focused now.

  “Whatever issues you and Fawn have need to be put aside.” Masters raised a hand before he could object and continued, “The thing is, your investigating styles are so different they complement each other. Your priority has to be finding Sian Wilkinson. Fawn did some digging into step dad’s background, that’s how she found links with the paedophile ring. You see, Frankie Stanton’s done this before, wriggled his way into the life of a vulnerable mother to take advantage of her kids.”

  “And the dead girl?”

  “Fawn can follow up on the dead girl, see if she can be linked with Wilkins. Your focus must be Sian. There was a sighting of a young girl of a similar description alone in Falcon woods called in by a local dog walker.” She handed a piece of paper to Albie. “A good enough place to start, don’t you think?”

  Albie nodded and took the paper from her hand. “So what’s happening about the paedophile gang?”

  “Leave it to Fawn. The investigation is still in its infancy. She’s made
the contacts with relevant teams across the force. Your job is to find Sian alive.”

  5

  Darcy smiled at the woman and thanked her before flipping her notebook closed. The photo of Sian hadn’t helped.

  “Could be her, but wouldn’t want to commit. She was dirty, like she’d rolled in it, dirt all over her skin and even her hair was more of a dirty blond.”

  “Anything else you can remember? Did you hear her voice?”

  The woman slid her glasses up her nose and stared into the distance. The black Labrador lay next to her. Saliva dribbled from his mouth and he panted in a frantic rhythm.

  “No,” she shook her head as she spoke. “I can’t say I heard her speak, but she did put her finger to her lips. I knew she was scared, her eyes were wide and her hands shook. It gave me the heebie jeebies, I can tell you. Felt like we were being watched.”

  Albie stood and listened. Darcy had taken control of the conversation and wasn’t doing a bad job.

  “What happened next?”

  The woman bent trailed her fingers over the dog’s wet fur. “Well, I was unsure of what to do next. I made to move towards her, but she panicked and moved further away. I didn’t want her distressed so I whispered that I’d get help.”

  “Okay, is that when you phoned the station?”

  She bent her head and studied her fingernails, which were neatly manicured, painted a pale pink and appeared to be momentarily more interesting than their conversation.

  Albie cleared his throat. He’d always felt long silences a waste of time and in this case precious minutes were wasted when they could be searching for Sian.