Twenty
It took twenty precious minutes to get the full story from the shaken detective.
Jakes stayed next to him, too close to just be friendly, but since Strange was smart enough not to mention it and Thursday already knew, he wasn't bothered by it.
Morse had left earlier that evening as usual, had walked the twenty minutes to his flat, found the door locked and undamaged, and had gone in just the same as he always did. Once inside, he'd shut the door behind him and when she hadn't rushed into him, he called out for Abby.
There was no response.
Next, he called for Monica, and when that likewise gartered no answer, had quickly made his way through the entire flat. He found the nurse in the little girl's bedroom, unconscious but otherwise unharmed. He rang for an ambulance, panicking, and rechecked every room until paramedics arrived. They assured him Monica was going to be okay, and he had immediately raced back to the station.
Abigail Morse was officially declared missing at 7:18pm.
Thursday immediately leapt into action, ordering CID over to check out the apartment in the off chance they'd find fingerprints, hairs, drugs, anything that could link them to the suspect.
Privately, they all knew that Mason Gull wasn't much of a suspect. Who else would specifically target Morse, after all? But still, procedure had to be followed, and despite knowing exactly who'd kidnapped the five-year-old, they needed proof to back up that theory.
Not that a kidnapping charge would make much different to the five murder-one life sentences he was going to serve.
After calling DeBryn, Jakes stuck close to the now-silent detective, an arm around his shoulders in comfort, however little it might actually give.
Strange sighed loudly and dropped the file he was holding onto Jakes desk.
"I just don't get it, matey, how the hell does this fit in with the Richard III theme?"
"If Morse is Gull's 'England' then… I don't know, maybe Abby's seen as a part of that England?" He guessed, and Thursday slowly nodded, "It could be, but it still seems too… out there for someone as careful as Gull. Everyone else has been based on a character before, so why stop now?"
"But she's not Queen Elizabeth" Jakes argued, "She's far too young, to start with. And she doesn't have anything in common with her. Queen Elizabeth had nothing to do with the- the metaphorical England".
"Well then, what character is she?"
"Elizabeth of York".
They all turned as Morse suddenly spoke.
"She's Elizabeth of York" He repeated quietly, "Queen Elizabeth's daughter. Richard invited her to dine with him, and she faced death if she refused".
They all stared at him, Thursday finally gathering up the nerve to ask the question they were all thinking of.
"… Does he hurt her?"
"No" He replied, voice hoarse as he finally looked up, "But he kills her father".
Silence.
Thursday quickly straightened, "Right, that settles it then. Morse you're getting protection duty 24/7 and- no, don't argue with me, we have as close to solid proof as we can get that he's going to try and kill you, you're getting guards whether you like it or not! Strange, check in with Uniform and CID, see if they've found anything yet. Jakes-"
He turned to him, only to find the Sergeant half-wrapped around the young detective, whispering reassurances low enough for only him to hear.
He sighed.
"Just- Just stay there".
When DeBryn finally arrived, he took one look at the chaos around and at Morse's haunted, beaten stance, and made an education guess.
"Abigail?"
Jakes nodded.
He let out a heavy breath before slowly making his way over with a first aid kit.
Morse's knuckles were still bleeding, but he didn't seem to notice the sting of antiseptic, or the uncomfortable tightness that came with elastic bandages.
"What happened?" He asked quietly, taping the last one in place.
"Mason Gull" Jakes explained, "Knocked out the babysitter with some sort of drug, and took Abby".
"Any leads on where he'd have taken her?"
He shook his head.
Morse remained unresponsive, staring at the floor, weight slumped back against his desk.
DeBryn studied him for a minute, before his gaze inevitably landed on Jakes' arm still wrapped around the younger man. Between that, and their sudden closeness, it didn't take much for him to put two and two together.
"A word?"
Jakes reluctantly nodded and stepped off to the side with the pathologist, close enough if Morse needed him but still out of earshot.
"As poorly timed as this is, Sergeant, I do feel the need to warn you about what would happen should you hurt him. Inspector Thursday, I'm sure, has gone into great detail, but still I'd advise you to remember what I do for a living".
His eyes flashed dangerously.
"I'd rather not have you on my table, Jakes, so don't make me put you there".
He swallowed thickly and nodded.
DeBryn relaxed once more.
"Good. Now, unfortunately our resident kidnapper had left me more than a few bodies that still have paperwork attached, so I have to go. Those bandages need to changed in about six hours, wash the cuts with warm water, and then leave them alone for the air to get to, unless there's a risk of dirt getting into the wounds. He's in shock, as is expected, but should snap out of it pretty soon. If you or Morse need me at any point, you know how to call me, and I do mean for anything… You better find this piece of work, Jakes".
"I will".
"If anything happens to that little girl…"
He shook himself out of it.
"Right. Well. Asides from the obvious, was Mrs Laskey alright?"
Jakes frowned.
"Mrs Laskey?"
"The babysitter" He said, "You said she'd been rendered unconscious?"
"Oh! Oh, no, no, it wasn't- wasn't her. Nurse Hicks was there instead. But yea, she'll be fine. We have a Uniform outside her hospital room, just in case".
"Good. You'll ring if there's any update?"
"Of course" He promised, and with another nod, the doctor was gone.
Still frowning, Jakes walked back over to the younger detective who still hadn't moved.
"Morse?"
He blinked.
"Didn't you say Mrs Laskey left hospital a few days ago?"
Unfocused blue eyes raised to meet his, and slowly, ever so slowly, became clear.
"… Mrs Laskey?"
"Yea. If she was released, then why wasn't she minding Abby?"
Morse blinked again, fighting through the fog that seemed to have descended on his brain.
"She… She broke her leg. In the accident. It… It still needs a few days to fully heal".
"Well, she picked a good time for it" He snorted, "At least Hicks is young and healthy. Can shake off the drugs quicker".
But Morse wasn't listening anymore.
Instead, he was staring with a rapidly sharpening gaze at the evidence board.
More specifically, at the empty portion they had left for their missing eight victim.
Jakes quickly stepped back as the younger man suddenly stood and made his way through the chaotic station.
"Morse?"
By now, Thursday had noticed his bagman's movements, and gave a questioning look to Jakes, who shrugged.
They both cautiously followed.
"Morse?" He repeated, stopping in front of the collection of photographs.
"… Queen Elizabeth".
"What about her?"
"She was Elizabeth of York's mother. And if Abby's the princess, then…"
"Then… we're looking for Abigail's mother?"
"Or the equivalent of it, anyway".
Jakes flashed back to their car conversation only days before.
She never knew her mother, and Mrs Laskey is the closest thing she has to one.
His eyes widened.
"Mrs Laskey".
Morse turned back to them with a grim expression.
"Mrs Elizabeth Laskey".
"So, let me get this straight… The babysitter, Abigail's babysitter, she's our Queen Elizabeth?" Bright clarified.
"Yes sir" Morse replied, "It all fits. Queen Elizabeth was Elizabeth of York's mother. She was indisposed early on in the play so Richard could get to her daughter. He requested she attend dinner with him, holding the Queen's life at stake".
"You believe the car accident wasn't an accident, then?"
"Mrs Laskey told me herself that she thought he purposely hit her. She said it was a man driving, with fair hair and dark eyes. The car had been parked only a few minutes before, and then suddenly appeared as she was crossing the road".
"Lying in wait" Thursday said darkly, "That bastard".
"But why back then?" Strange chimed in, "Why not now? I mean, that was a good few weeks ago, matey, wouldn't it have better to wait?"
Morse slowly nodded, "In theory, yes. Gull took a big chance hitting her when he did; she could have recovered a few days ago and returned to Abby… But on the other hand-"
"-if he did hit her any more recently, there was an even bigger chance of you finding out the truth" Jakes finished, "Which would mean protective custody for you and Abby, and no one left to play his game".
"Exactly".
"Where is she now?" Bright asked, "This- This Mrs Laskey?"
"At home. She lives in the same block as I do, and I've already sent an officer over just in case Gull comes back".
"Which he won't".
Morse grimaced but said nothing.
"Right. Nice work, detective" Bright said, "However it is the last you'll be doing for a while".
"Sir-"
"No arguments, Morse. You're close to this, too close. I know she's your daughter and I know you want her back safe, but as a result, your judgement is impaired and we can't take any risks right now. Desk duty until further notice. Understand?"
He muttered something not particularly kind under his breath.
"Understand?"
"… Yes sir".
"Good" Bright straightened up, "Sergeant Jakes, keep an eye on him, won't you? Don't let him do anything… stupid".
They worked through the entire night, making phone calls, sending letters and faxes, and examining maps of Oxford for anything that could give them a clue as to where Gull had taken her.
They still had nothing.
Morse remained at his desk, strangely obedient, and Jakes was quick to follow whenever he left to get tea or paperwork. As strange as it was, he didn't trust this rule-abiding version of the risk-taking detective, and he kept expecting him to try and give him the slip every time he stood.
By morning, they were all exhausted and still no closer to figuring out a damn thing.
Jakes yawned and stretched in his seat, shoulders cracking painfully from being hunched over a desk for so long.
Glancing over, he found Morse in a similar state of exhaustion, early morning sunlight dancing across his hair like a flame, and worried eyes slowly drooping shut. He knew it'd be pointless in telling him to go home, and he didn't want to be a hypocrite anyway.
Turning back to the file in front of him, a list of Gull's known previous addresses, he jumped as a phone suddenly gave a loud shrill.
"Morse".
He looked over at the younger man again, watching as his frown smoothened out into a curiously blank expression, phone held tightly to his ear.
"Yes… I understand… I know, I- … Okay".
He slowly hung up.
And then stood.
Jakes quickly got to his feet as well, and Morse gave him and exasperated look.
"Boss's orders" He shrugged, "Who was that?"
They left the office.
"Who was what?"
"On the phone" He expanded, "Who rang?"
They took a sharp right and began to descend an old staircase.
"Just Uniform checking in" He said, "Requested a file".
"From the evidence locker?" He asked, disbelief clear in his voice.
Morse shrugged, "Wanted to double check something, I guess. You don't have to come".
"Of course I do… Bright's orders aside, I want to".
He paused at that, giving him a curious look, before disappearing inside the dusty old room.
Jakes quickly followed, immediately being enveloped in darkness as the door shut closed behind him. There was only one window in the evidence room, a small pane of glass about a foot down from the ceiling, but it was so dirt covered that it hardly let in any light at all.
"Morse?" He asked, hand fumbling along the wall, "Dammit, where the hell's that switch…"
He heard movement behind him and quickly turned.
"Morse?"
There was a flash of blue eyes in the dim light.
"I… I'm sorry".
Jakes frowned.
What on earth did he mean by-
A piercing pain struck the side of his forehead, and he staggered back, collapsing against the metal shelving behind him.
"What're you-"
There was a scuffle, another bang, and then-
Nothing.