by Philip Cox
‘Freeze it!’ Craig snapped at Mr Rose.
The puzzled bank manager quickly moved his mouse and left clicked to freeze frame the video.
‘Do you recognize that person?’ Mr Rose asked again.
Ben looked over at Craig, silently asking the same question.
Craig looked over at Ben.
Chapter Fourteen
THE GIRL SHIFTED slightly in the untidy bed. It must have been the sound of the people outside starting their car that had woken her. She looked around the darkened room. She took a few moments to get her bearings. Once her eyes had gotten used to the surroundings, it wasn’t that dark: the thin curtains only partially kept out the daylight.
She slowly slipped out from under the sheet, trying not to disturb the body sleeping next to her. She slunk into the motel bathroom and sat down. Afterward she decided against flushing in case the sound woke him up. She wanted him to sleep longer. Much longer.
She peered into the bathroom mirror. Ran her hand through her untidy head of dark hair. In normal circumstances it would be neatly brushed down to her shoulders; this morning it was unkempt and tousled. The roots at the back of her head still hurt where the hair had been pulled.
Leaning in the bathroom doorway she stared at the figure in the bed. Lying on his front, he was taking up two thirds of the bed. The sheet covered the bottom half to just below his waist. One arm was hanging off the side of the bed; the other was stretched out over her side. His long hair, now out of the ponytail, hung partly over his shoulders, partly over the side of the bed too, obscuring his face. He was snoring slightly, and the hair in front of his face moved slightly each time he breathed out.
She started as he moved slightly, begging him not to wake yet. Her prayer was answered as he stayed asleep, but the movement of one leg pulled the sheet so his left leg was exposed now.
The girl shuddered: did she really find that body so attractive once?
She looked into the mirror again; she turned around so she could see the scratches and some bruising on her back. They were not there yesterday. A few hours ago, she was face down on that bed too, and he was on her, tightly gripping her wrists, tugging at her hair, pushing down on her shoulders, while telling her how good it felt.
Not like the other one, she thought. When she was lying face down with him, he was sitting astride her too, but he was massaging her waist, her back, her shoulders, and her neck. The other one leaned forward and kissed her neck, and nibbled her ears. The little hairs on the back of her neck rose as she could feel his breath on her. He climbed off her and while he nuzzled the back of her head his hand began stroking the top of her back, moving down her spine, so gently, just with his fingertips. She moaned as his fingers slowly and tantalizingly caressed the skin on her waist and lower back; they moved down over her buttocks and around the top of her legs. Then they went deeper, really teasing her as she wriggled about.
She was so ready for him that when he finally stopped and turned her over he slipped into her easily. She reached down for his buttocks and gripped them tightly pushing him in as far as he would go. As his back arched and fell she dug her nails into it too, so deep that when they were finally done and he lay on his back panting, he left flecks of blood on the sheet.
But now, as she stared at her reflection, she could see that she was the one with the scratch marks.
Another grunt and sigh from the bed. Please don’t wake up yet. She leaned forward and stared closely at her reflection.
Oh God, what have I done?
Chapter Fifteen
‘WELL?’ BEN ASKED again.
‘It’s not him,’ whispered Craig. Ben noticed that his eyes were a little moist. ‘It’s not Adam.’
‘Are you absolutely certain?’ Ben looked at the frozen image on Mr Rose’s screen. Although the quality of the picture was poor, he felt the likeness matched the pictures of Adam he had seen. ‘True, you can’t see the features that well, but it’s because the picture’s frozen. Can you rewind and play again?’ he asked Mr Rose.
‘Sure.’ Mr Rose clicked the mouse a couple of times and they watched the tape again.
‘Why don’t you think it’s Adam?’ Ben asked. ‘The way he’s dressed, jeans, shirt, tee shirt underneath; the hair’s the same as the photos you’ve brought. Almost.’
‘That’s the point,’ Craig was getting agitated in his chair. ‘That’s the point. It is a poor quality picture, especially when it’s frozen like this, but I can still recognize my own brother, or not in this case. Also, did you notice his hair on the CCTV from the bar? It was shorter than in those pictures.’
Ben shook his head. ‘No, sorry, I didn’t notice.’
Craig swallowed. ‘I haven’t seen Adam in the flesh for a while, but we do communicate by email now and again and by Skype. I spoke to him on Skype a couple of weeks before he came out here, and he had just had his hair cut. Not as short as yours maybe, but shorter than here. And it wouldn’t have grown that quickly.’
Mr Rose obviously decided he should get involved in the conversation. ‘Are you saying this person is not yourself. Do you know who this person is?’
‘I thought I did, but no I don’t,’ said Craig.
‘So in that case, you must be saying the transaction is fraudulent,’ the bank manager replied.
‘Yes, we are,’ replied Ben.
‘In that case, it needs investigating. But you will need to report it to the local police first. They will provide you with a crime number, which you will need to give to us, please. In the meantime, I will make sure the account is frozen so that there can be no more transactions on it.’
‘One thing,’ asked Craig. ‘That cash advance was for fifteen thousand dollars; just remind me, what’s the credit limit on the account?’
Mr Rose returned to the account screen. ‘I can’t tell. It is not one of our accounts. But I can tell the account has gone into overdraft.’
‘That would figure,’ Ben said. ‘After the other transactions, that was the most that could be taken out.’
They stood up. ‘Well, thank you, Mr Rose,’ Craig said offering his hand. ‘We’ll be in touch after we’ve seen the police.’
They all shook hands and Mr Rose escorted Ben and Craig out into the banking hall.
‘Shit,’ said Craig as they got out into the bright sunshine. ‘No way would Adam have done that, and that video proves it.’
‘That was good spotting about the length of your brother’s hair,’ Ben said as they walked the two blocks back to the car. ‘Now you mention it, yes I
remember from the Shots tape his hair was shorter. But I wouldn’t have put two and two together like that.’
‘Yes, but he’s not your brother. And I saw him on Skype three weeks ago.’
‘Which means,’ said Ben as they got in to the car, ‘that somebody was impersonating him.’
‘Obviously.’
‘They must have got his ID, and made themselves to look as he did in the picture.’
‘So,’ Craig went on, as Ben started the car and pulled away, ‘if they have Adam’s ID, where is he?’
‘You ought to go to the police with this, but better not here; it’s obviously tied in with where he’s gone so I think we’d better report it to Lieutenant Sanchez.’
‘Yeah. And about the car.’
They made for the interstate, and were soon driving again down the streets of Davenport.
‘The police station was on the next block, I think,’ said Ben looking ahead.
‘Ben! Turn round!’ Craig tapped him on the arm.
‘What is it?’
‘Going that way: a large dark coloured car – don’t know the make – but it’s got tinted windows and those chrome bars.’
Luckily there was a gap in the traffic and Ben was able to make a U turn. He could see the vehicle in question at the next corner. It was waiting at a red light. Unable to make a turn onto the main road, it waited until the light turned green. Ben and Craig followed. They followe
d it five blocks down, until it turned into a residential street. A hundred yards or so later it pulled up outside a house. Ben slowly drove past, not stopping as he did not want to around suspicion.
Further down the road, Ben turned the car around and pulled up. From where they were they could see the driver get out. It was a woman, in her thirties, carrying two large J C Penney brown shopping bags. She walked up the pathway to the house, and let herself in.
‘An unlikely suspect,’ said Craig.
‘She is. The car may not be.’
They drove slowly back; as they passed the parked car they studied the front. ‘No, it’s not the one,’ said Ben. ‘Can’t make out any paint marks on the bars, and the front is different. I think the one last night was a Ford.’
They turned left back onto the main road and headed back to the police station. One of the blocks they passed was a small shopping centre with a small number of cars parked outside. Just out of the corner of his eye Ben saw a vehicle that looked familiar. A large, black vehicle partially obscured by a hedge separating the parked cars from the main roadway. With a squeal of brakes, Ben turned the Fusion left and they drove into the little parking lot.
The driver of the black car had reversed into the space, and as they drove past very slowly they could see the chrome bars on the front. They pulled up into another space, and looking around, they both walked over to the other car. Craig crouched down and studied the chrome bars. ‘Look,’ he said, peering up at Ben, ‘this is the one.’
Ben quickly looked around, then knelt down. Sure enough, there were some scratches and a very slight dent in the bars. In the scratches they could just make out some faint blue paint, the same shade as their car. Ben remembered the view of the front of the car from the night before.
‘Yes, it’s a Ford,’ he said, wandering round to the back. ‘A Windstar.’
Craig was peering in the windows: they were tinted and in the bright sunlight it was impossible to see inside.
Ben took a photograph of the licence plate with his phone. ‘Let’s sit in ours and wait for the driver,’ he said.
They had been waiting five minutes when a man came out of a grocery store carrying a brown paper bag. He was dressed in dark trousers, brown boots, a denim shirt and cowboy hat.
‘Isn’t that one of the guys who were at Shots?’ asked Craig. ‘You know, from the group at the next table?’
‘Yes, I think it is. No, wait.’ Craig had his hand on the door handle. ‘Let’s see where he goes.’
The Windstar pulled away; Ben waited a couple of seconds and did the same. They made a left up the main street, past the police station building, and made another left at the next corner. After one more block, the Windstar turned right at a green light. Just as Ben got to the light, it turned amber, then red.
‘Shit!’ he exclaimed, braking. There was no gap he could turn into. They both looked up the road and saw the Windstar turn left.
‘He’s turned at McDonalds,’ said Craig.
Ben was now able to make his right turn; at the next corner, at McDonalds he was able to turn left. Once he had got into the street, there was no sign of the Windstar.
‘Oh shit!’ he said again. ‘Where’s it gone?’
He drove to the next cross street. He drove at about twenty so they could look either side at the numerous alleys coming off this street, but still no sign. At the junction he looked ahead, left and right, but could see nothing.
‘Shit,’ he said for the third time, ‘Gone.’
‘Never mind.’ Craig patted Ben on his shoulder. ‘At least you got the licence number. There’s something we can give Sanchez. Look, there’s that gas station again; we might as well fill up while we’re here.’
They pulled up at a pump and the same white haired attendant came out to serve them. He didn’t seem to recognize them from their previous visit.
After filling up they made their way back to the red brick police building. Once again, a draught of frigid air hit them as they got inside. They went to the reception desk; this time a young police woman was on duty. She glanced up at them from her computer screen.
‘We would like to see Lieutenant Sanchez please,’ Craig said politely.
The policewoman turned round and spoke to a colleague. ‘Is the Lieutenant in?’
He looked up from his keyboard. ‘No, she’s out on a call.’
‘When’s she due back?’ the policewoman asked.
He shrugged. ‘When she’s done.’
The policewoman turned back to Ben and Craig, and passed on the shrug. ‘Anyone else do?’
‘No,’ Craig smiled, ‘it can wait. Can you just tell the Lieutenant that Craig Williams called in and could she call him when she can?’
‘Sure. Will do.’ She noted the details on a notepad and returned to her screen.
‘Thanks,’ said Craig, and he and Ben left.
‘Helpful as ever,’ muttered Ben as they got back into the car.
‘Tell me about it,’ agreed Craig. ‘Let’s get back. I’m still tired, and we still need to go through Adam’s phone records.’
By early evening they were back at the apartment, having eaten and were sitting looking over Craig’s laptop. Referring to his list of Adam’s passwords, he logged into his brother’s phone account. He went to the page listing activity since the last bill.
‘Here, these are the calls made from the 19th.’
‘Right, most of them are to UK numbers. Is that your parents’ number?’
‘Yes, it is. That one’s not, though. That’s a US number. I recognize it.’
‘Whose is it?’ Ben asked.
‘No, I don’t mean I recognize the number. I mean I can tell it’s a US one.’
‘And there,’ Ben pointed at the last two numbers, ‘one to your father at 00:17 on the 26th.’
‘Yeah, just after midnight on the 25th.’
‘And 04:58 later that morning.’
‘Just as we already knew.’
‘Let’s try this number,’ said Ben, dialing. It rang for a minute or so, then disconnected.
‘Still a valid number,’ he said, ‘but it looks as if nobody was there to pick it up. Let’s try Adam’s.’
He dialled, waited a moment, and then hung up. ‘A recorded voice saying the number isn’t available.’
‘Yeah, as before’, said Craig. ‘My dad cancelled the number.’
They sat staring at the screen for a few seconds. ‘There’s nothing here,’ said Craig, logging out. ‘Let’s start again in the morning.’
‘We can try that number in the morning,’ Ben said. ‘Then go and see Sanchez. Unless she calls us first.’
‘Somehow I don’t think she will,’ Craig replied. ‘Anyhow, I’m going to take a shower.’
Half an hour later Craig returned to the lounge to find Ben still lying on the sofa. The TV was on but Ben was staring into space.
‘You look miles away.’ Craig laughed.
‘Hm – oh yes,’ said Ben, sitting up. He turned the TV off and turned to face Craig. ‘Sit down a minute, will you? I was thinking. I’ve got a couple of questions to ask you.’
Chapter Sixteen
CRAIG SAT DOWN. ‘All right. Fire away.’
‘What do you think has happened to Adam? Really happened, I mean. Look, I don’t want to upset you.’
‘But do I think he’s still alive? Is that what you want to ask?’
Ben nodded. ‘Well, in a word, yes. Sorry.’
Craig waived his hand, dismissing Ben’s worries. ‘Don’t worry, mate, you’re not upsetting me. Reasonable question I know, but the reason I’m not upset is that I believe – really believe – he is alive somewhere. Like Sanchez said, no body has been found, so the question really is: where has he gone? Voluntarily?’
‘You still think he’s just gone off into the sunset with this Stacey?’
‘I do. You see Ben, this has happened before. Sorry I should have told you.’
‘It’s happened before! When? Same sc
enario as now?’
‘Not quite. That’s why I didn’t mention it. Didn’t feel it was relevant. Then.’
‘What happened before?’
Craig sat down on the chair opposite Ben. ‘As well as sunning himself, Adam also likes skiing. Two, maybe three, years ago, he went on a skiing trip to Austria. I forget exactly where.’
‘That photo you brought with us?’
‘It might be then. He used to go once a year. We had no contact from him for almost a week. It turned out he had met up with an Austrian girl and they had driven to Vienna for a dirty weekend. And there was another time previous to that.’
‘So you think that’s what’s happened this time?’
‘Seventy-five percent chance. But it’s that other twenty-five percent I’m not sure about: this feels a bit different. He’s been gone for longer this time, I still can’t get my head round what’s happened with his mobile, and all that stuff about what went on in the bar still doesn’t stack up. Not to mention all this stuff about the fifteen thousand dollars. That quite obviously wasn’t Adam, but somebody has got themselves access to his ID.’
‘Perhaps he’s been mugged or something?’
‘Perhaps, but surely he would have reported it by now. No, something definitely stinks.’
‘But you still think he’s gone off with the girl? Do you still want to stay looking for him?’
‘I will – for now. He’s still my brother, although we’re not the closest pair of brothers in the world. I’m just a bit pissed off at him for going off and not telling our parents. My father thinks the same as me deep down – I think – but my mother’s worried sick. That’s why I want to find him: to tell him how much he’s worried her. You don’t just fuck off somewhere for weeks on end and not tell your family.’
‘No, you don’t. Most people don’t anyway.’
‘Anyway, mate, you don’t need to stay. I’m grateful to you for sticking with me so far, but you’re under no obligation.’
‘You’re wrong there. I do feel an obligation.’
