Nowhere to Run
Chapter 4 of 10
by Vanessa
[nemesis@graffiti.net]
6 August - 5 September 1999
Wolski Residence
"Mrs Wolski? I'm Detective Goldstein, Sydney Water Police, and this here's Frank Holloway. We're wondering if we could talk to you and your husband about your daughter?" Rachel flashed her badge for formality's sake, skilfully glossing over the fact that Frank was actually off duty. As the saying went, what they didn't know....
"Simone? Have you found her?" The woman looked hopefully at them, reminding Frank why he'd taken leave. So many victims -- so many disappointed loved ones....
"Ah, no, not yet -- mind if we come in?" Goldstein nodded her head towards the interior of the house.
"Oh, of course, come in," Mrs Wolski stepped back to allow them through. "We can talk in the lounge, if you like."
"Whatever's easiest for you," Frank replied, smiling benevolently at her. He followed the two women into the lounge area, but didn't sit down with them, opting instead to roam around the room glancing at photos.
"Do you know where Simone is? They wouldn't tell me anything on the phone...." Mrs Wolski looked at them anxiously.
"We believe she's been kidnapped," Rachel said. When she saw the horrified reaction on the other woman's face, she hastened to reassure her. "No, no, it's okay -- she's all right."
"But... kidnapped? How?"
"Travelling on the CityCat," Rachel answered.
"The ferry...."
"Yeah. Uh, Mrs Wolski, did your daughter catch that ferry regularly?"
"Yes, yes she did. Every afternoon, coming home from work."
"Right...." Rachel processed this. "Where did she work, exactly?"
"She's a ballet dancer," Frank said, turning to face them suddenly. He had a photo in his hand, and offered it to Goldie. It showed Simone, elegant and graceful with her long blonde hair pulled back in a bun, performing a ballet routine.
Her mother nodded. "Yes, she was. She's only been dancing professionally for about a year... she loves it. She quit her part time job so she could focus fully on dancing, and it paid off. Plus, she moved home again," she smiled slightly, a mother's selfish gratitude at having her daughter back under her protection.
"It's nice to have them home, isn't it?" Rachel replied.
Meanwhile, Frank had found another photograph of interest. "Who's this in the picture with Simone?"
"That's Cameron, her boyfriend. He's a lovely boy..." she trailed off, then was hit by a sudden realisation. "Cameron -- I haven't told him yet, I should have phoned him...."
"Well, we can do that, if you'd like," Frank offered. "We'd like to talk to him anyway, I think. Would you have contact details where we could reach him?"
"Uh... sure," she replied, sounding anything but. "I'm sorry, I can't really think straight at the moment."
"That's okay, Mrs Wolski, we won't keep you much longer," Rachel said, producing the face fit from her pocket. "Mrs Wolski, do you recognise this man?"
"Is this -- is this Simone's kidnapper?"
"We think so. Does he look at all familiar?"
"No," she shook her head. "I'm sorry--"
"No worries," Frank assured her. "You can take your time, if you like, and if anything comes to you, you can call the station any time. Twenty-four hours a day," he reminded her.
"Yeah, yeah, I--" she faltered again.
Frank exchanged a glance with Rachel, who nodded. Time to leave, they decided. Simone's mother wasn't going to tell them much more in her present state of mind, but they'd spoken to her at least, and she knew where to contact them. Rachel made the first move.
"We've got to get going now, but thanks for your help, Mrs Wolski. Here's my card, so if you do think of anything, like Frank said..."
"I'll call, of course. Thank you," she said sincerely.
"Just doing my job," Rachel replied, standing to leave. "But hopefully we'll be able to bring you better news. C'mon, Holloway...."
When they were outside, heading back to Goldstein's car, she asked him slyly, "So, Francis, how'd you enjoy your blast from the past?"
"It never changes, does it? The endless cycle of victims, all those innocent people who get dragged through emotional and physical torture, for no reason other than that a small percentage of the population are complete sadist bastards."
Couldn't have said it better myself, she thought. "But that's why we're here, Frank -- to serve and protect. Don't you want to be a part of that again?"
They reached the car, Rachel getting in the driver's side with Frank typically as the passenger. "Maybe. It's sort of addictive, y'know? I honestly don't know whether I could cope again, but... you've given me a taste of it, and now I want to be around and see that girl reunited with her family."
"Her poor mother..." Rachel sighed. "What she's going through is the worst feeling in the world."
"You know something about that?" Frank inquired, suspecting that she did.
Rachel nodded. "Ah -- a couple of months back, David was on an excursion on the harbour... one of the other boys, his friend, was kidnapped, and David snuck onto the kidnapper's boat."
"Guts and loyalty," Frank remarked admiringly. "Like his mum."
"Been watching too many damn cop shows, more like it!" she retorted. "But that day, waiting for so long, not having a clue what had happened to him... I think it was the worst day of my life."
"I wish I'd been there," he said, his voice soft.
"Yeah. Me too."
Snapping herself out of her nostalgia, Rachel inserted the keys into the ignition, started the car, and they drove off.
and that is why I stumble to my knees
and why underneath the heavens
with the stars burning and exploding
I know I could never let you downWater Police HQ
"Helen, we've got a situation," Tayler informed her sergeant.
"Sounds interesting. What is it, exactly?"
"Report of a jumper, somewhere round by the Opera House," Tayler waved in the vague direction, even though they were too far away to be able to clearly see the structure.
"Right..." Helen did some quick mental tracking, trying to figure out where everyone was. "Where's Rachel?"
"She went to talk to the mother of that kidnap victim. Jack and Mick are out interviewing some of the ferry passengers from yesterday. Should I call them?"
"No -- there's not really time. You go, take Sykes."
"Will do, Sarge," Tayler replied enthusiastically. Hopefully this time, they'd be able to convince the kid not to jump....
Crime Scene
The two divers swam through the murky water by the ocean's floor, doing a final sweep over the area. Satisfied they'd done a good job; Emma Woods motioned to her partner, who nodded.
"Dave, I think we've got everything," Woods radioed their superior, on the boat above them. "We're coming up."
"Good-o," Dave replied curtly. He was standing on the deck of Police Launch Harpy, feet placed squarely on the floor at shoulder's width apart, with his arms crossed over his chest and the radio receiver in his hand.
Shortly, Emma and her partner resurfaced by the side of the boat, and she passed a number of items to Dave. "That's everything we could find, since Rachel wasn't terribly specific about what we were looking for -- nothing much, but the Ds might still find it useful."
"Well, they're here now," Dave said, Rachel pull up on the shore nearby. "And Frank's here..."
"Hawker'll love this," Woods remarked.
"Well, I'm not telling him," replied Dave, completely agreeing with her. "Come on, let's take your loot over to them." He helped the two divers back onto the boat, then they headed over to greet Goldstein and Holloway.
"What've you got for us?" Rachel called to them as they approached.
"Could be an early Christmas present..."
"Oh yeah? Well if you want to get me a Hanukkah present, too, I wouldn't mind catching this guy," Rachel retorted. When the boat neared the shore, she and Frank climbed on board.
"This is everything that seemed like it didn't belong, Goldie," Woods said. "That bit of material looks the same as the gag on the woman's body yesterday."
"Attention to detail," Rachel commented. "Might be admirable if he wasn't a criminal. What else've you got?" She browsed through the items, making a mental note of them. "Rope, chains, knife..."
"That definitely hasn't been down there long," Frank said, looking at it. "Looks brand new."
"Yeah, I reckon he used it to cut the ropes tying Simone's wrists..." Rachel's mind was already geared to hypothesise. "Dave, do you reckon you could get all this sorted into evidence bags for us?"
"Sure," McCall agreed. "'Us' being you and Jack, right?"
Both Rachel and Frank stared at him, just giving him a Look for a few seconds. Woodsie bit her lip, amused by the scene and trying not to show it. Finally, Rachel spoke.
"We'll get that off you back at the station. Thanks, guys." She and Frank stepped back onto the shore, immediately slipping into a discussion about what had just been found, both forgetting for the moment that Frank wasn't supposed to be investigating.
"So, you're certain he got away now?" Frank began.
"Seems so, doesn't it? I tell you, he's a slippery bugger, though -- how do you reckon he did it? Getting away like that without Sykes or Johnson seeing."
"It wouldn't be easy, but it'd be possible."
"You're not going to show me, are you?" Rachel asked, recalling the last time she'd had a discussion of 'I know how he did it'. Seeing a grown man tie himself up with duct tape, now that was an unforgettable experience.
"No -- why?" Frank replied, confused.
"Ah, never mind. So, what's your theory?"
"Well, I don't know, I don't really have one yet. Okay -- I'll make one up. This bloke, he jumps in the water, holding the girl who he's got gagged and tied. Then Dave's people pull out two bodies which aren't the people who went in there--"
"We reckon he must have planted them," Rachel supplied helpfully.
"But they also found the bits of rope and material, so even having planted the bodies before hand, he would have had to have worked quickly."
"So, he got down there, cut her free, and they swam away. That still doesn't seem right -- I mean --" Rachel turned to face the water. "The spot where they went in has got to be about 200 metres from here, right? How long would it take to swim that far?"
"Ian Thorpe does it in a minute thirty-six," Frank said helpfully.
"But a normal person, right, swimming in that water, dragging someone else along... that would take maybe twice the time, what do you reckon?"
Frank shrugged, clueless. "Wanna try it?"
She ignored his comment, still working the calculations. "That's roughly three minutes, then. There's no way they could have stayed underwater for that long, and Tayler's certain she didn't see them again."
"Extend the body search?" Frank suggested, reaching.
"Nah, he wouldn't go to all that trouble to pull the wool over their eyes like that, only to end up dead. So he must have had some means of escape."
"Dive gear?" Rachel could tell he was making another stab in the dark, but this one might just be plausible.
"That... yeah, I'll go for that! If this guy's stashing bodies for the hell of it, a few oxygen tanks wouldn't be too much trouble, and they'd give him some time."
"Could explain the chains, too," Frank was a tad surprised that she'd embraced his off-the-cusp theory, but determined to pursue it since she had. "He'd need something to weight them down."
"He'd need a few other things, too. Like a getaway car, maybe somewhere to stash the tanks after they reached land..."
Simultaneously, they turned to each other, then looked to a nearby shed. It was mere metres from the water -- and they'd won with longer shots before. Worth a try, at least.
It didn't take them long to find what they were looking for; their kidnapper had been obviously pushed for time, and had hidden the dive gear under a dinghy outside the shed. Allowing herself a small, partially triumphant smile, Rachel turned to Frank and they gave a quick handshake.
"Francis, it looks like this is our lucky day."
as every day goes by you wonder
where did you go wrong, you ponder
the life you give, you don't get back
every day you're more obsessive
more possessed, but less possessive
you're so good at coverin' your tracks
End Chapter 4