Abduction in Dalgety Bay

by Ramsay Sinclair

  “No, but if you’re still experiencing difficulties like those, they affect the entire team, as you noticed with McCall in the car.” The firm superior licked her thumb and rummaged in a file she’d pulled out. “These are your records, DI Cooper.” They were? How I longed to see what kind of lies were written there, what sort of compliments or honourable mentions littered the covered pages. “I was looking back through your files the other day after a small chat with McCall. Nothing bad was said. I was just curious to do some digging.”

  The depth her eyes held when scanning the typed details was like a luscious forest of green that you weren’t quite sure where it ended. A hint of darkness lay in the background, and beyond the trees, somewhere I didn’t necessarily want to explore, although evident we’d discover the hidden secrets that lurked there in due course. We were bound to after spending most weeks together as a team. Finally spotting the particulars, DCI Harvey carried on.

  “It seemed you were offered counselling after the explosion, but you refused.”

  “Aye, ma’am.”

  She wasn’t pleased. “What do you think about that in hindsight?” I understood that to be a rhetorical question judging by the stoic stare she was giving.

  “That… I probably made the wrong decision.” I exhaled upon the admittance. I’d been bottling it in for so long that it was a strange sense of relief when admitting that my own stubbornness was wrong. Perhaps I wasn’t the right man to decide my own life anymore. I even struggled to pick out which colour socks to wear on the daily, or what sandwich fillings to choose at the canteen. Then when the food servers would huff at the growing queues forming behind me, that would only throw me off course again, and I’d second guess choosing egg over tuna.

  For the first time in my life, I was indecisive, and everything was an ultimatum. Simple choices had become emotionally painful.

  Then there remained the biggest, unanswered question that constantly ate away at my brain, nitpicking it to pieces. Could I have prevented DCI Reid’s death, or couldn’t I? It begged to be answered so that my mind would have room to finally concentrate on what was important again: cases, the team, and Abbey. A simple existence as a man of non-extravagant taste.

  “I’d agree with you there, DI Cooper.” Jolting out of the musings, I focused. “I may have only known you all for a week or so, but I smelt the alcohol on you when we met. I’ve also noticed you have a tendency to zone out during meetings or when you're talking to someone. Like you were only a moment ago.” She’d caught me. “There’s a troubled glint in your eyes, and they glaze over, sending you to a place that’s far away from here.”

  It surprised me that someone summarized the exact symptoms I’d experienced over a short period of familiarisation, and it made me wonder if my facade wasn’t strong enough. “You do?”

  “Yes. Along with what you’ve told me about the car chase, our various concerns were correct. The shock is still there, which is why I’ve referred you to a counsellor of my own accord. Once this case is wrapped up, I’ll set you up with an appointment, effective immediately. How do you feel about that?”

  There wasn’t really room for negotiation. “I trust your opinion as my superior, ma’am. If you think it’s for the best--”

  “I do.” Barely allowing an answer, DCI Harvey halted any chance of pulling the wool over her eyes. “It’s not weak to need help.”

  “I beg to differ,” I scoffed unapologetically. Strong opinions came from my mother’s side, with a history of speaking out of turn, often when uncalled for and disastrously inappropriate to.

  We were both as strong-headed as the other, and we had the foresight to realise neither of us was going to admit the second was right. DCI Harvey contained gentle energy in spite of the outwardly authoritative figure she showed.

  “Do you want to know something? I was like you once.” Dropping the pen and relaxing, Harvey sounded different. Sincere and heartfelt, her words were a confession that only we were able to share together. “I worked on a case in the past, very similar to this actually, a kidnapping case, not a million miles off Sarah Carling’s situation.” DCI Harvey’s shoulders came up to the middle of my torso, a shorter woman in comparison. “I made the wrong decision, and she ended up getting killed.”

  Temporarily incapacitated at the revelation, my surprise wasn’t subtle.

  “I assumed a simple threat was a lie, and it turned out the kidnapper wasn’t bluffing.” DCI Harvey let out a bated breath, awaiting my reaction. It was another shock, that’s for sure, but I wasn’t in a position to judge her. “The papers slated me, and I left work for months, in shock and grieving at my mistake. I was certain I’d never return to work again, but the force set me up with a therapist where things got better. Slowly.”

  I let the story wash over me, bringing myself to sympathise with DCI Harvey on a personal level too.

  “This case is all too similar, and it brings back awful memories, but now I know that they’re validated. That I have a reason to feel this way, and I’ve since sworn that I’d never make the same mistake again. Hence why you saw me working like a loony when you entered my office a moment ago.” Ending the story there, she struggled to think of what more to say. As she shyly shook her short bob away from her vision, I realized we weren’t foreigners anymore. We were speaking the same language.

  “I wasn’t aware.” The carpet muted the nervous tapping of my foot as I spoke. Comforting people wasn’t a forte of mine.

  “Of course you weren’t.” In a minute, the roles were reversed and switched back to me again. “It’s our secret, though. My pride couldn’t handle anyone here knowing. This is a fresh start, and I don't want the team to think I'm incapable of my duty, especially regarding Sarah’s case. We’re making positive headway so far, and I don’t want their trust in me to waver already.”

  “They wouldn’t, but I respect your decision, nonetheless. After all, what you say goes around here. Consider, though, they’re still putting up with me after everything, and that’s a testament to their patience.” I had to hand it to the team. Their faith in me hadn’t wavered. They were the truest support network a DI could wish for.

  Giving a concise nod, DCI Harvey didn’t crack the normal smile. After all, the tone of our conversation wasn’t exactly deemed lighthearted. “Including McCall. She cares about you. So, you agree to see a counsellor? Just a clarification so I can get everything sorted when time is of the essence.”

  I was reluctant to say that definitive statement aloud, and it took a while to muster the courage to do so. Faced with a criminal, I was bold as brass. So why was admitting my own faults and allowing people to help me always so hard?

  “I suppose I am.”

  “That’s brilliant,” DCI Harvey said. “It truly is. It’s not easy to admit when we need help. Well done, DI Cooper, in the least patronising way possible.”

  “Yeah.” No other phrase would have sufficed. ‘Yeah’ had a thousand different possibilities attached to it. It could be whatever I chose, positive or negative.

  “We’ll get there together.” She jotted down a memo to organise the appointment. “None of us are giving up on you.”

  “Thanks… Guv.” Based on the commitment she’d already shown our team, I deemed it time to cement her status above me. I’d been holding back on using this fond title yet, preferring to suss her character out before I made any decisions to name her as such. Calling someone Guv meant they had earned my respect, and I didn’t take that choice lightly. “It’s good to have you working with us.”

  Humbled, it seemed that DCI Harvey also realised the weight that ‘Guv’ entailed between us two. “If you truly meant that, you’d fetch me a refill on this cup of tea.” She duly handed over a mug covered in printed photographs of DCI Harvey and a man - that must be her husband - on various mountain walks and family events.

  “Yes, Guv. Right away.”

  We shared a knowing and understanding smile, a twinkle prominent in her iris.


  A strange sense of relief resided for a while after I’d reached the staff kitchen, listening to our rickety kettle bubble and boil, knowing I'd finally confided in someone that wasn’t going to force me into anything but whose genuine interests were to help. McCall had something to do with DCI Harvey’s gentle persuasion, I was certain, and I suppose I was indebted to both of them.

  Spurred on by this new leaf that had been turned tonight, I vowed to become DI Finlay Cooper in all his former glory. Part of the team who would recover Sarah Carling and reunite their family, a part of the team who were doing their best to restore the bay back to its former glory. A world in which young girls would be able to roam the rocky streets without cause for concern.

  After all, isn’t that what detectives were designed to do?

  20

  Seven am. The lack of windows in our hub, bar one, meant the rising sun didn’t make much of a difference to our slum of an office. The tiniest hint of light filtered through and sent noticeable dust particles flying in the air. An overbearing smell of sweat, must, and people’s array of food choices for breakfast mixed together was almost enough to set my gag reflex off.

  After working on autopilot for the past few hours, the team was glad to take a short break and eat. We’d been on autopilot, surviving on lack of beauty sleep and covered in files where the surprisingly sharp corners were digging into our ribs.

  As the famous saying goes, there’s no rest for the wicked. Whilst CID were taking a short break, a uniformed team brought Marvin Clark in. In spite of his previously calm exterior, he didn’t come quietly. Struggling with the officers and shouting until he was blue in the face, Marvin wouldn’t stop being a pain in the arse, and that’s the polite version of events.

  The usual routine of being booked in by the custody officer and taking both his photograph and biometric data took longer than we would have liked, as we were itching to have word on the whereabouts of Sarah and Jerry. Then there came a faff of Marvin deciding he wanted his own trusted legal representative present. Of course, the time it took to place the phone call and wait for the solicitor’s arrival dwindled our patience.

  Now that he sat in the same old interviewing room, facing McCall, DCI Harvey and me, Marvin Clark didn’t seem as eager to please as last time. In fact, he barely smiled. His solicitor wasn’t much friendlier, an elderly man with sagging skin and a constant look of agitation, as though we weren’t worth the time he had left. Completed with a tweed suit that made us dizzy and oval-shaped glasses, the solicitor was a country man through and through, right down to the awful twang when he spoke.

  “This is South West Fife CID, holding an interview with a suspect that goes by the name of Marvin Clark.” DCI Harvey spoke the familiar words we could recite in our sleep had we been allowed the privilege to be tucked into our beds. “Present in the room is DI Finlay Cooper, DS Kirsty McCall, and DCI Christine Harvey. Private legal representation present under the name of--”

  “William Henry, from Woodworth solicitors,” the no-nonsense country man cut in. A bland and boring name for a man of the same description. No sooner had he said his name had I forgotten it. Ignoring the obvious rudeness that emanated from the snooty lawyer, DCI Harvey gathered her composure.

  “Interview commenced at--” There was a slight pause whilst we observed our watches. “1105 hours.” Before we could get much further, Marvin had a burning question to get off his chest.

  “Can you explain why I had officers arresting me this morning? And were the cuffs really necessary?” he complained, practically foaming at the mouth. His dagger tattoo, peeking out from a tall necked collar, moved rapidly with his speech.

  DCI Harvey stayed calm, fundamentally in charge of the tape duties. “You fought against the officers, and they had no choice but to detain you. As explained to you at the time of arrest, you’re under suspicion of being in cahoots with a criminal and having prior knowledge of Sarah Carling’s kidnapping.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” he expressed. “Of course, I fought against them. I don’t deserve to be treated like this.” That’s what all the criminals said. “I don’t understand, after I’d been so helpful the first time around, why you’d need to treat me in such a… disingenuous manner. It’s appalling.”

  The lawyer didn’t try to stop his client's rage. Instead, he shrugged and rubbed his drooping chin in wait for an answer. This wasn’t their station or their territory. They didn’t get to conduct this interview. Already fed up with their insubordinate nature, my own temper threatened to burst.

  “Big words. Are we supposed to be impressed?” I said. “Don’t play this game with us, son. It won't wash. We were lenient the first time over, and now, I’m getting tired of your voice and your lies.”

  Stepping into diffuse the heightened conversation, McCall had a brilliant way of sounding compassionate when in reality, she was just as irritated as me. “Mr Clark, do you understand the caution you were given?”

  “Yeah.” He wrung his bruised wrists. “Funnily enough, I’ve done this all before.”

  “Oi, don’t get cocky,” I forewarned. “Liars aren’t high on our list of people to respect. In fact, it ranks you pretty low. So less nattering and more listening would be appropriate.”

  The lawyer pursed his lips in disapproval.

  “In your previous and unrecorded questioning, you said that Jerry Clark, your brother, died nearly a month ago,” DCI Harvey continued with harsh shadows cast above her cheeks. “Not long after the Carlings’ business went downhill. He was run over by a car, and it was a pure accident. Can you confirm that you relayed that information to us, Mr Clark?”

  “Yes.”

  Handing over a photograph depicting Thomas Kirk to both the lawyer and our suspect, McCall pressed her slender fingertips together in wait.

  “Do you recognise this man? For purposes of the tape, I am showing the suspect a photograph of the man involved in the previous exchange of £20,000 cash.”

  Taking a moment to scrutinise the photograph fully, Marvin eventually nodded. Between his hand, he clasped the golden cross attached to the necklace chain. “There’s a vague sense of familiarity. I saw him in passing many years ago.”

  The elderly lawyer narrowed his eyes into slits, also scanning the picture.

  “Remember a name?” DCI Harvey pressured.

  “No. Not one that I vaguely remember.”

  McCall inhaled sharply. “His name is Thomas Kirk. How do you know him, Mr Clark?”

  “Uh,” Marvin fumbled, “we met before I was clean, and he was just a kid. Too young to be out on the streets. Having more wisdom now than I did then, I’d say this Thomas kid had a bad upbringing and probably awful parents. He was known back then for shoplifting, and many people called him slippery for short.” Wrapping up the explanation, he took a sip of water to clear his gravelly throat. “We all had various nicknames or aliases.”

  Barely giving him a chance to pause, McCall fired back. “And that’s it? You haven’t seen or been in contact with him since?”

  “No.”

  Marvin’s lawyer huffed as though it should’ve been obvious. Folding his arms across his twig-like chest, he awaited our next line of focus whilst shifting among his papers and throwing secret glances towards his client at certain points throughout our interactions.

  “This is where we’re struggling to piece your statement together,” I stated coolly. “As we know, you and your brother were notorious criminals back in the day. Seemingly, you’ve been up to your old tricks.”

  The lawyer immediately jumped in. “Where’s the evidence to back up these… false claims, DI Cooper?” I knew he’d waited for an opportunity to showcase his skills. “So far, all you’ve done is accuse my client without any substantial grounds and mention the death of his brother to purposely upset him. This is all concocted to make my client aggressive and defensive.” After the outburst, his glasses were steamed over.

  DCI Harvey wasn’t going to take the excuses. “This is our
evidence. For the tape, I’m showing the suspect the mobile burner phone that was handed over to us by Thomas Kirk.” She turned to Marvin. “I presume you know who ‘Sid’ is?”

  Setting the cup down, Marvin agreed. “Yeah, that was an alias my brother used to conceal his true identity when we were still in the game. He was Sid, and I was--”

  “Nancy?” I suggested with a sly smirk, unable to help myself. “What do you mean by when ‘we’ were in the game?” I air-quoted the definitive word.

  Unimpressed with the joke at his expense, Marvin ran a hand over his shaven head. “During the past three years, I started to leave what we all called ‘the game’. Mr and Mrs Carling made me rethink my life plan by giving us our positions, and I wanted to make them proud of giving me a second chance. Call me crazy if you like. I dropped out slowly, but Jerry still spoke to his criminal friends, and I never asked why. I simply didn’t want to know.”

  “Well,” DCI Harvey proceeded to point towards the technology, “this phone was sent to Thomas Kirk on the 14th, one day after Sarah Carling was taken, along with a letter and car keys to the Ford Transit van that was used to take Sarah Carling away. A message sent to the burner phone was a time and date for Thomas Kirk to retrieve £20,000 from the Carlings in exchange for Sarah’s safety.”

  The lawyer shrugged heatedly. “What’s this got to do with my client?”

  “The money was taken, but Sarah wasn’t handed over,” McCall insisted. “The person who sent Thomas Kirk these various items signed off their messages and letters with the name Sid. Your brother’s alias. Furthermore, Thomas Kirk identified your brother as the man to who the alias belonged.”

  Marvin scoffed. “Well, those things can’t have been sent by my brother. He’s dead. Someone’s playing a twisted joke by using his nickname to do their bidding, to frighten people. You’re being set up.”