Whilst we were busting our asses off trying to find the kid, her own mother knew exactly where she was. She’d knowingly deterred us throughout the entire investigation. “That’s why Jerry was at the address alone when our team found Sarah and why your earring had been left behind by mistake.”
McCall had turned a hot pink. “But we had a noise complaint from the neighbours because your daughter was crying for her parents. Clearly, Jerry wasn’t looking after Sarah as well as you’d envisioned, or as well as he’d promised to. She had bruises around her wrists.”
“I know that he was trying for my sake. He has a temper, but he’s learning to control it. He doesn’t know how to keep kids quiet, but Jerry was doing his best at keeping her fed and watered,” she excused his actions, the wool firmly pulled over her eyes.
“She’s not a houseplant!” I yelled. “And you’ve prioritized an affair with a known criminal over her well being.”
“Jerry only wanted what was best for me and my mental well being!” she argued. “I’m more than just a mother. I’m a woman too and a younger one at that. We didn’t think you’d delve into my private life too. We’d thought the police would only try to find Sarah by any means necessary. By surrendering the cash.”
“No,” DCI Harvey interrupted her attempt at a disgusting confession. “You’re a mother, full stop. You don’t get to change your mind once the kid is born. Jerry only wanted what was best for himself. He used you and your daughter to get what he wanted. A fresh start with a clean slate and plenty of cash under his belt. A country where he could pretend to be somebody he isn’t. He’s preyed on an easy woman who feels trapped and has coerced you into becoming a criminal.”
Julie Carling stuttered. The thought obviously hadn’t occurred to her before now.
“What would’ve happened if Jerry successfully got hold of the money? To Sarah?” McCall added.
“Uh,” she scratched her arms nervously. “She would’ve turned up on our doorstep. Bob’s doorstep, that is. You would drop the case because she’s been found, and Jerry and I would catch a plane and leave before anybody realised what I had done. By the time you did realise, we would’ve been far away, and Jerry said that an investigation across borders isn’t easy for the police.”
It took all of my willpower to sit tight.
“One thing you discredit us for is our stubbornness,” I said sternly, without a shred of mercy left within for her. “Even if Sarah had shown up again, we would never have stopped looking for a kidnapper that could cause harm to other children around the bay.”
Shutting our files in distaste, McCall didn’t hold back from letting her feelings known. “Stop trying to justify your actions when you can’t. If your plan went off without a hitch, Sarah would’ve wondered where her mother had gone. Bob would have undoubtedly blamed himself for your sudden disappearance, and he’d have to deal with the aftermath of the trouble you caused. Sarah has and would have been affected by your selfish actions, and she’d spend a lifetime hoping and praying that you would come back to your broken family one day, the family that she wasn’t even aware was crumbling in front of her eyes.”
For the first time, I sensed a flicker of remorse in the distressed mother. If she even deserved that title anymore.
Perturbed and troubled, Mrs Carling eventually snapped. “Do you think I wanted to fall in love with a convict, a madman who can concoct these types of ideas at the drop of a hat?” She stressed the last point. “To cheat on my husband and ruin our family with my own stupidity, with my own stupid pride? I was torn between two separate lives and the two men I had a duty to. My legal husband, or the man I loved.”
“Neither,” I hissed, much to her surprise. “You had a duty to your daughter. It was your inevitable, unquestionable duty as a mother to protect her, yet you exploited her instead. The only innocent one in all this, and you preyed on her purity. Her vulnerability.”
“Sarah wasn’t hurt,” Mrs Carling defended and wiped a few fallen tears from the desktop. “She was fed and given the television to watch. It was only supposed to be for a few days until we had the money to leave our unhappiness behind. Jerry has changed since those old days where he did… bad things. He wanted to start again where nobody knew him, and I had to get away from the mounting debts and the knowledge I’d failed as a wife… and a mother. You have to believe me, we--”
“Bullshit,” I said.
“It’s the truth. That’s what Jerry and I agreed upon, what we promised each other.”
“When you're in a hole, it’s best to stop digging,” I advised.
Julie Carling sobbed in self-pity. “You don’t know what it’s been like this past year. It’s been hell.”
“No,” McCall disputed. “Some people never get the chance to be a mother, biologically or physically. Then there are women like you,” she spat, angrier than I’d ever seen. “I hope you’ll be tortured by the sight of Sarah visiting you in prison as she grows up, wondering what on earth her mother did to deserve this kind of treatment. And you’ll have to look into her lovely eyes, knowing you harmed her and were prepared to abandon the bright young woman she’ll grow up to be. And it’ll tear you apart that nobody will tell her your truth, what you did to her, and the guilt will become you.”
Standing up decisively, all three of us took that as the cue to end the questioning there. Nothing else needed to be said. We’d gotten a full confession, and once the forensics were back, Mrs Carling would be going down for a very long time.
The match had finished, and we’d won the final point worth having. Only winning wasn’t gratifying when the game was over and done with. We were left with the responsibility of our successes, and the achievement wasn’t as prosperous as I’d imagined it to be. At what cost were people’s lives ruined by our breakthroughs? We’d torn the Carling’s to pieces, just as we’d done to many families before their time. They were only one family of many. We’d imprisoned plenty of sons, daughters, brothers and grandparents prior to this investigation. But surely we were the morally correct ones here? To let someone like Mrs Carling roam free was more trouble than it was worth.
Seething from a similar rage to McCall’s, I stalked towards the recording device. Before pressing end, I turned to face the weeping mother. Our temper must have given Mrs Carling food for thought, and for the first time during our interaction, guilt penetrated her ragged features.
“I suggest you find yourself a bloody good attorney. Interview terminated.”
26
Less than a week later, we’d been invited to a restaurant that was perfect for the likes of CID to celebrate the finally concluded case of Sarah Carling. DCI Harvey arranged a table for us at the local fish bar, as fancy as we liked things to get. Grease, oil and fat were what our team called a proper celebration, full of fulfilling grub and tantalising chips coated in enough salt to give the fittest person a heart attack. That person happened to be DC Taylor, who despite his fad diets and lemon water, had caved for one night only to have his fill of a proper meal, rather than rabbit food.
A few locals were dotted around the place and wondered why we were so rowdy and constantly talked over one another. We’d adopted a similar repertoire to the kind we used in the office and found it hard to shake off.
Somewhere in the near distance, a speaker was ironically playing some of the old police songs. The swinging reggae beats made some of the locals sway whilst enjoying the company they came with and their bloating stomachs. I couldn’t stop my own toes from tapping. This genre happened to be a weakness of mine. It brought a sense of nostalgia, for these were the types of records I used to save my hard-earned pennies to purchase as a teenager.
We’d been treated to another bottle of champagne, seen as we’d used up our last on the premature celebrations. Whilst the others had their glasses filled to the top, mine only had the tiniest of slithers. I’d stayed true to my word and was cutting back on the alcohol consumption.
“At last, something that isn’t fr
om a container. I almost forgot what a dining table looked like. It’s something Julie Carling won’t see for a while, that’s for sure,” Rebecca commented dryly, done up to the nines in the subtle way she did best. Her choices of makeup remained natural, a beauty without all the fakery that some women favoured. Sometimes confidence was much prettier than fancy makeup or clothes, and it went a lot deeper too.
The turbulent case had left us all knackered and emotionally exhausted, and we were ready for meaningless laughter and relaxation. Pleasant company, easy conversations and full stomachs were the only thing on our agenda.
“That case was certainly the most… astounding investigation of that calibre I’ve dealt with. You guys are keeping me on my toes already,” DCI Harvey teased. “Especially you, DI Cooper. I was under the impression that CID would be a doddle after my experience. How wrong was I?”
We bristled at the mention of Mrs Carling. Passionate anger still bubbled below our surfaces at the very memory of the remorseless interview.
“I don’t know how you guys do it or keep doing it,” DCI Harvey confessed. “Dalgety Bay isn’t as quiet as it first appears. I’m proud of us, and it’s a delight to be working on my first case with you all.” She grinned and held up a glass.
“We’re only too happy to accommodate you, Guv. To new beginnings,” Tony suggested.
“New beginnings,” we cheered merrily, and DC Taylor took the opportunity to drape an arm over McCall’s slim shoulders.
They were getting bolder and comfortable showing their affection outside of the office; it was becoming endearing in a sickly sweet fashion. He’d tried hard to be presentable tonight with an excess amount of hair gel clumping the jet black mane together, and his excessive pumps of male perfume were making me sneeze.
Cillian, with a chip half hanging out of his gob, had leaned forward to grab DCI Harvey’s attention. She obliged politely, waiting for whatever outrageous topic he had tucked up his sleeve.
“What about your home life then, Guv? You mentioned you had a husband. Does he like what you do at the station, or is he like Tony’s wife? Scary and passive-aggressive.”
“Oi, watch it, mate.” Tony lightly shoved him in the seat, and our table rocked at the sudden movement. We all instinctively leaned forward to grab our drinks before they spilt. “You know that my wife’s got supersonic hearing and probably heard that from all the way home. She’ll fog march down here if so and take me home by ear. I swore that I’d only have a pint tonight, and that’s it. I’m already past that point.”
Wincing, it didn’t stop him from necking another. After all of this, he deserved to relax. We all did.
DCI Harvey stabbed her battered fish with the fork prongs, debating whether sharing her private life with Cillian was wise. “I do have a husband of ten years or so. He loves my career, and that’s actually how we met.”
“He’s an officer too?” It intrigued me.
“Forensics. We both lived in London and were put on a case together. The rest, as they say, is history.” She grimaced at the corny line and ate with gusto.
“Hmm,” Cillian stroked his chin at the anecdote. “Makes sense.”
“What does?” I asked.
As if it was obvious, Cillian shovelled another few chips. “There’s only one reason men like women who work in the forces. Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” He clocked our oblivious and somewhat blank stares, lingering on Rebecca’s assets for a fraction too long. “It’s a natural fact of our world that since it’s been turning and that’s a bloody long time--”
“Get on with it,” Tony heckled.
“Since the world has been turning, men love a woman in uniform. They can’t help it,” he shrugged and finally wrapped up his long-winded analogy.
I groaned. I half expected the feminist side of Rebecca to come out in full force, but instead of arguing with him, she wholly agreed. “I hate to say it, but Cillian’s right. There’s something incredibly unmissable about a uniform. It doesn’t even have to be a police garment. A firefighters uniform is just as attractive.” It was a rare occasion when those two could see eye to eye. “Sometimes, I won’t fancy a woman until she puts on a uniform. When they do, something just flips, and I can’t stop staring at them.”
The reactions around the table were vastly different at this revelation. I coughed on my drink, spilling bubbles everywhere, and McCall soon rushed to my aid. She rubbed helpful circles on my back whilst Tony’s mouth gaped open a few times.
Cillian stuttered. “I didn’t know you liked--”
“Really?” Rebecca smirked at his shock. “I thought it was obvious. None of you guys shout out exactly what your sexuality is, so why would I?” she said brazenly. “Plus, I like both men and women. So don’t worry, you’re not completely discredited from the running yet.” She laughed at Cillian’s crossed fingers.
Swaying on the spot, none of us knew whether Cillian would faint from surprise or glee. “Lord help me,” he muttered. “If this is some kind of test, I’m going to fail. If you’ve seen my dreams, take them back. All of them. You know too much.”
That boy would be the undoing of our team, I swore. Never fazed. That was sort of frightening. Nothing set him back, a testament to his willpower and strengths as both an officer and lad in general, I supposed.
Scraping our plates clean, Cillian threatened to lick the crockery. Upon overhearing the potential risk, the waiters swiftly whisked in and disposed of the dishes cluttering the tabletop appropriately and with, I’m glad to say, not a single tongue insight.
Taking a metaphorical step back from the general chatter of our team, I observed our friends from afar. The budding romance between two of my closest colleagues, one of which was the best mate of my life. To say I was happy for them would be an understatement. Then there sat the neverending retorts between Cillian and Rebecca. They were both as fiery as the next, and it was as though they were skirting around their connection for some reason. Perhaps they didn’t want to risk ruining their friendship, or maybe office romances weren’t their cup of tea? For that, I couldn’t blame them. They weren’t mine either.
Nonetheless, they were a brilliant match.
Overall, tonight had been a hoot and a half. We’d bonded personally with DCI Harvey, and boy, was she a good sport. Witty, sharp and personable too. She was our missing jigsaw part we’d lost for quite some time now.
A phone continued to ring relentlessly until Tony finally had the nerves to answer it. We didn’t need to ask who was on the receiving end; everyone had already guessed. Pushing his chair out from underneath him and stalking off to take the heated call outside, the others were too deep in their conversations to even notice the disappearance. With the exception of DCI Harvey and I, who sat awkwardly uncoupled.
“I would’ve filed for divorce by now,” she said sarcastically.
“He’s tried.” I messed around and earned an appreciative chuckle from DCI Harvey, her bright lipstick smudged as the hours had passed. “This isn’t even the worst of it. You weren’t around the week after their honeymoon. Tony had some… interesting stories from that weekend. Cillian had material for weeks from some of those tales.”
Tony nearly caught us talking in-depth about the disastrous honeymoon when he resurfaced. Rather than joining in the rest of our night out, he slipped his woollen coat across one arm and held a palm up in farewell.
“Sorry for the early departure,” he explained. “I’d forgotten I was on the little-un’s bedtime duties tonight. The wife wouldn’t let me forget that promise easily. Now I’ve got to sober up before I get there.” He wryly smiled and earned a chorus of whines from us. Scratching the fallen salt from his tufty beard, Tony retreated towards the street. “Enjoy yourselves. I’ll see you at the station.”
“Wait,” DCI Harvey disguised a yawn. “I’m not as young as I used to be. I’d better go and keep my old man company whilst he dozes off to another episode of homes under the hammer. He never stops watching that bloody show. It
drives me nuts. Marital bliss, eh?” She patted her trousers in search of a tenner. “Order another champagne on me. It’s the least I could do to commend your hard work.”
“Cheers, Guv.” DC Taylor was put in charge of the money, as the most sensible one of us to trust with the finances. We waved and watched the two figures disappear down the darkening street, and they appeared to have struck up a conversation.
Considering the rest of the team overstayed our welcome in the restaurant, the servers were accommodating nonetheless and didn’t even decline when we ordered that second round of champers courtesy of DCI Harvey. They were undoubtedly hoping for a substantial tip to line their wallets and keep their roof over their heads. Unfortunately, none of us was proficient when it came to remembering these trivial, everyday things the locals thought about. We set out a few pennies shamefully and hoped they wouldn’t be offended by our lousy tip.
Content with the friendly companionships and endless comical interludes, courtesy of Cillian, we whiled and frittered away the hours endlessly. We went from being their first booking to the last ones standing. Or sitting, to be precise.
When the drinks were drained, and the dusk had settled upon the farthest rock out on the waterline, some of us stumbled to the chilled pavements in search of a continuation of the evening. Those two were, namely, Rebecca and Cillian, intoxicated with bubbles and their youthful, innate ability to withhold it all and still be in search of a dancefloor to have a carefree grind against strangers.
Whilst still their superiors, who were we to refuse them of their off-duty fun? Our younger years were far behind us, and those days were long gone. Theirs were still ripe and exciting, and they had enough brawn between the two of them to protect each other.
Abduction in Dalgety Bay Page 23
