The Hunted Child Page 5

  ‘They were traveling along with a couple of women and a twelve-year-old girl.’

  Kirsten struggled to contain the delight that was about to leap across her face. ‘Are they still here?’ Kirsten asked.

  ‘No,’ said the woman. ‘They won’t be here. I was talking to the women this morning. I didn’t like them, you see. Quite loose if you understand me.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ asked Kirsten.

  ‘They seem to be going with men that weren’t theirs. I got the idea these people weren’t married.’

  ‘Why is that?’ asked Kirsten.

  ‘One of them was a black woman. You don’t get that many around here and those two men were foreign. The other lass, she was Scottish. Probably Glasgow though, by the sound of her accent.’

  Kirsten fought the racist implications that were being presented, keen to extract as much information from the woman rather than berate her backward attitude.

  ‘You say one of the women was black. Can you tell me anything else about her?’

  ‘She had that tight hair that they have. Not long. Curly, short tight curls. As big as me.’

  The woman stood at five foot four, Kirsten reckoned. There was certainly no achievement to have reached that height.

  ‘She was, well, all over one of the men, shall we say? I reckon she was one of them girls. Girls of the night. You know what I mean?’

  ‘Did they arrive with the men?’ asked Kirsten, a little bit surprised that you could find a call girl this far out of town.

  ‘Yes. They came with them and they sent the girls over to talk to me but I saw the men in the background. You said you were looking for Greek men. Yes, they looked Greek to me.’

  ‘Did you hear them speak at all?’

  ‘No, but they were very greasy. They’re like that. They’re definitely like that.’

  ‘Are you sure it was them though?’ asked Kirsten.

  The woman looked up. ‘We don’t get people like that around here often. Summer, yes but not like that. I run a decent place. I don’t like any monkey business.’

  ‘You say there was a young girl with them?’

  ‘I only heard her,’ said the woman. ‘I think she was in the back. Man told her to shut up several times. That’s another reason I didn’t like him. Look at the fields we have here. He could have let her out to play.’

  ‘Were they noisy last night? asked Kirsten.

  ‘No. Very quiet. Kept themselves to themselves in a lot of ways but the men with the girls. Yes, I think they were up to something.’

  Kirsten was struggling with the image of a campervan with the Tavares brothers in and a couple of prostitutes along with the girl. Maybe the woman was reading it wrong. Maybe they were more sophisticated than that. The women were playing a part and maybe they were meant to look like a happy couple with a girl. But the fact that the girl didn’t get out of the campervan and was only heard and not seen prompted Kirsten to feel that this was a lead worth checking. Even if the woman couldn’t be sure that she had seen the Tavares brothers instead of, how had she had put it, ‘a couple of Greeks’.

  ‘Did they say or give any indication where they were heading?’ asked Kirsten.

  ‘No. Told me very little,’ said the woman, ‘but the campervan went off that way.’

  ‘Do you have a registration for it?’ asked Kirsten.

  ‘No. You weren’t here. If you had been here and told me to get one, I’d have got one for you but you weren’t here, were you?’

  Kirsten nodded and breathed deeply. The woman was annoying her, especially as Kirsten was so close to re-establishing the trail.

  ‘What time did they leave?’

  ‘Probably an hour ago. You might even have passed them. The women were doing the driving.’

  Kirsten thought back to the last hour but she couldn’t remember passing a campervan. But then again, she was in investigating other campsites so they could have passed on the road easily when she was doing that. ‘You have no idea where they’re going?’ said Kirsten.

  ‘I’m not a mind reader, now, am I?’

  Check in time, thought Kirsten, so 10:30 sailing on the ferry. They’re going for the ferry.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘What’s the campervan look like again?’

  ‘Big and white,’ said the woman.

  ‘Is that it? That’s all you can tell me?’

  ‘Had four wheels as well. It wasn’t one of them six-wheeler ones.’

  Kirsten thought it was pointless talking to the woman. She frankly seemed a little bit off edge.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, and jumped into the car and drove as fast as she could back to Ullapool. Kirsten knew that the ferry would be departing shortly. As she reached Ullapool, she saw that the cars had already boarded the ferry and the rear of the vessel was being shut up. Kirsten ran to the desk in the terminal building, where a man looked at her wondering why she was sweating profusely.

  ‘I need to be on that ferry.’

  ‘I’m afraid boarding’s closed. You needed to be here half an hour before sailing if you want on as a foot passenger.’

  Kirsten slammed her identification down in front of the man. ‘I need to be on that ferry.’ He looked at the identification, looked back up at Kirsten and then got hold of his walkie talkie.

  ‘Has it gone yet?’ he asked someone, to which he got a, ‘Just closing it up now.’

  ‘You’ll have to hold it. One more to get on.’

  ‘No, it’s gone. Master won’t be happy about that.’

  ‘Police,’ said the man. ‘It says here she’s from police and she’s asking to be on the ferry. Says it’s an emergency.’

  ‘Okay then. Let’s just make it quick.’

  The man pointed to the stairs. ‘Up there, keep going.’

  Kirsten knew where she was going. They’d built a new link to get onto the ferry, an extendable corridor that could move up and down with the tide so it would fit exactly with the side entrance where the passengers came on board. Kirsten ran as quick as she could and then saw a man in a red hat waving at her, telling her to get on board.

  Kirsten entered the ferry, sweat dripping from her, and gazed around at a family seating area. She’d been here before. As the door closed behind her, she smiled to herself. Got them trapped. Two and a half hours, Kirsten. Two and a half hours to put this to bed.

  Chapter 7

  The ferry was full and as Kirsten began to walk around the deck, she watched faces looking back at her, but she saw no Greeks, nobody fitting the description of the Tavares brothers. She did see a couple of black women, but none had the tightly cropped hair as described by the campsite owner. Instead, their hair was long and black, curly, but it was past the shoulders.

  Kirsten did her best to see if any of the hair looked like a wig, but it was difficult to tell. She couldn’t really walk around accidentally putting her hand on everyone’s head and pulling the hair to see if her wig appeared. There was also a white woman to be on the lookout for, but Kirsten could not describe her in any detail. After half an hour of walking around the vessel and not spotting anyone of note, Kirsten thought she should try the vehicle deck. First, she asked to see the master of the vessel and was taken up to the bridge where a rather perplexed gentleman in a white shirt with gold applets gave her a concerned look.

  ‘Who exactly are you searching for?’ he asked.

  ‘Two men have kidnapped a girl, and there’s also two women with them.’

  ‘Are they dangerous?’

  ‘They can be, but I have no guarantee they are actually on board. I believe they are, but we may also have others on board with them. I don’t wish to alert them unduly. I’ll make a call to make sure that in Stornoway, the police are aware as well. In one sense, sir, I’ve got them if they’re on board. In another, it’s a confined space and you have a lot of people on board with us. I want to play this coolly, make sure I can identify them. They may see reason and come quietly.’

  ‘Well, I’m
at your disposal for any help.’

  ‘I’m going to go down to the car deck, have a search around if that is okay with you. I know by regulation, I shouldn’t be there.’

  ‘No, you shouldn’t,’ said the master, ‘but these are exceptional circumstances, as long as you’re happy to take the risk on your own, that’s fine.’

  ‘I certainly am.’

  ‘But be careful,’ he said. ‘We’ve open deck at the rear of the vessel. Therefore, anyone on the higher decks, looking down to the rear of the vessel would be able to see you operating amongst the cars. I’d rather you didn’t get seen.’

  ‘That’s understood,’ said Kirsten. ‘I’ll do my best.’ She looked out of the window and noted that the ferry was shortly leaving the confines of Loch Broom out into the Minch. ‘What sort of a day is it today for the crossing?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing excitable, pretty standard for the time of year,’ said the captain. ‘There was a wee bit of a swell on the way over, but I don’t think we’ll be throwing the crockery around.’

  ‘Good,’ said Kirsten.

  ‘You’ll be further down,’ he said, ‘so therefore you won’t feel it as much.’

  ‘That’s good to know.’

  Kirsten was taken downstairs by one of the crew and was led onto the car deck near to the front of the vessel. This part was closed in, but Kirsten could see that approximately the last fifth of the deck was exposed to the elements. For this reason, the vessel could take dangerous cargo on board, but it was giving her a problem if she was going to search the last number of vehicles. Kirsten made her way along, glancing inside every vehicle, but in truth, it was the camper vans that she wanted to get hold of.

  She walked up to a number of them, listening intently for anyone inside, but she heard nothing. When she got to a white camper van, which looked to be four or five berth and with only four wheels as the campsite owner had said, Kirsten carefully checked it over. She couldn’t see an alarm on it, and she managed to break in via the side door. Inside there were a number of sleeping bags scattered, and she could see up top, a bunk for two people. The place stunk and a whiskey bottle was sitting half discarded on the side. On the floor was a smaller sleeping bag, as well as another bunk where two people had lain. There were a number of magazines lying around.

  Kirsten thought it rather bizarre that you would have a child with such pornographic material left lying. Checking the interior of the camper van she found nowhere hidden, no secret places. She suspected that this was the vehicle, but clearly, they’d got off somewhere, however they’d done it, but Kirsten continued to check the deck. After an hour, she returned up to the bridge to speak to the captain.

  ‘They’re here, somewhere on board, but I’m not sure where. Would you able to take me through the crew quarters as well?’

  The master nodded. He personally escorted Kirsten around each of the crew cabins. One by one, she searched through each of them, but there was nobody but the normal crew on board. She was taken through stores, through the engine rooms, every part of the vessel, but she couldn’t find anyone. There was now only half an hour until they were into Stornoway. Kirsten placed a call to Anna Hunt who advised that the police were ready at the far end, and they would check every vehicle coming off.

  ‘You sure it’s not a decoy,’ said Anna Hunt. ‘Are you sure they didn’t get off, get the vehicle on and then disappear? Maybe they’re waylaying us if they’re heading somewhere else.’

  ‘Seems elaborate to me,’ said Kirsten. ‘They didn’t know I’d found them.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Anna, ‘if they’re on board, we’ll get them. I’ve asked the police in Stornoway to stop every car coming off, do a search of the vehicle, open it all up. If they’re there, we’ll get them.’

  ‘Okay. I’m going to take one last scan around the vessel,’ said Kirsten, ‘just in case I’m missing anything, but then I’ll be out front and coordinate with the police.’

  Kirsten thanked the master and made her way around the vessel before taking herself outside onto the upper deck where she could see Stornoway coming into view. She spent a significant part of her police career here and had many times attended a ferry along with the dog handler checking for drugs being smuggled on board. Part of her was having fond memories of the place, but she had a job to focus on.

  Once again, she scanned the area around her, but she couldn’t see anyone. Getting back to the upper deck, she entered a narrow corridor from a door to the upper rear deck which led to stairs back down onto the main deck. As she walked along, Kirsten bumped into a white woman with blonde hair.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Kirsten but then found herself being shoved through a door behind her to the men’s toilets. It opened suddenly, causing her to trip backward and fall inside. A face appeared in front of her upside down.

  ‘Remember me? About time I returned the favour.’

  Kirsten was hit on the head with a butt of a gun causing the world to spin. She was not quite knocked out, but her arm was pulled backward, and she felt a handcuff being slapped on it. As her arm was dragged, she felt like it was going to be handcuffed to something else. Inside her, the blood began to pulse. If they strapped her arm up, she’d be trapped here. They could do anything to her. A hand flew up to her cheek and she saw another man’s face, one of the Tavares brothers looking at her.

  ‘Such a pity, a nice bit of stuff too.’

  A rage built up inside Kirsten at the men’s handling of her. She drove a knee upwards, suddenly catching him right between the legs. He grunted and fell down on top of her. She pulled at the arm being dragged behind her. Her arm became free and she grabbed the head of the man who’d just fallen on her.

  Kirsten rolled over and plunged a fist down into the man, but from above her, her hair was grabbed, and she was hauled up to her feet before being spun around and thrown. Her shoulders took the main impact as she hit the wall of the restroom. Then the man followed it up by driving his shoulder into her stomach. Kirsten doubled up but managed to get her arms up in defence as the man started to throw punches at her.

  In the mixed martial arts cage where she spent so many hours, it was not an uncommon occurrence to suddenly be taken by surprise. Minimizing the damage while she fought her way out had become second nature to her. She felt her arms blocking punch after punch. Then she jabbed forward several times, catching the man in the face. He stumbled back into his brother behind him, and Kirsten seized her advantage by running at them and driving her own shoulder into their midriff. The door had been closed to the corridor, so they clattered into it before Kirsten fought to catch a breath. She stepped forward again, throwing a punch to the man. He dodged it, grabbed her arm and again, drove her backward so she hit the rear wall.

  The two men joined forces, trying to pummel her with punches. Again, she covered up, blocking time after time, the handcuff on her wrist jangling. When one or two did come through, she managed to ride the punch, but then she bent down, taking the beating. She felt one man grab her head and drive his knee up towards her face. Kirsten managed to get half a hand in front of it, but it still connected well. She fell to the ground.

  ‘Now I’ve got you, you bitch,’ said to the man, but another voice shouted at him.

  ‘Not now. We need to go. It’s docked. It’s bloody well docked.’

  Kirsten glanced out of one eye and saw the door of the bathroom being opened, the blonde-haired woman shouting at them. She fought to get to her feet but stumbled back again and felt another kick from the man to her face. As she lay there striving to get up, she heard them exit the room.

  Turning over, she put her hands down, pushing up, but she was struggling. As she stood up, she felt herself tumbling towards the wall but managed to lock herself in a position to stay upright, as the handcuff swung on her wrist. Her face was bloody, but she made it over to the sink, ran the tap, and threw some water quickly on her face. She exited the bathroom and went out onto deck, where she saw that some of the vehicles had already sta
rted to leave.

  There was a police checkpoint and Kirsten got hold of one of the crew members asking him to call the captain. The miscreants were on the move and his crew should be aware. She stayed looking off the front of the ferry but struggled to see the cars leaving, so made her way down to where the foot passengers were getting off. She watched how they were looking at her as she ran past, no doubt shocked by her bloodied appearance. She reached the end of the gangway down the newly built steps that led along the passage to the main terminal and saw a police officer she knew at the far end. Aidan had once been her partner and he was checking the foot passengers coming off.

  ‘Kirsten, you look like crap.’

  ‘No time, make sure you check everyone coming off here. We’ve got a black woman and a white woman with blonde hair with them as well as the Tavares brothers. Did you get the images?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but nobody’s come this way, so far. The Sarge is out in the car park.’

  Kirsten made her way out, wondering what a mess she must look like to everyone. She made her way across the car park. The sergeant quickly assessed her, seeing the handcuff dangling from her wrist. ‘Stay back.’

  ‘I’m Kirsten Stewart, the one that called it in,’ and then an officer behind her shouted. ‘That’s Kirsten Stewart, Sarge. She worked with us before. She used to be here.’ The sergeant straightened up, went towards her, and gave Kirsten help to stand properly. ‘Are you doing it? Are you checking all the cars?’

  ‘Everyone that’s come off. It’s taking time, but we stopped and searched them all.’ Kirsten sat down on her backside sucking in air. ‘Can I get you any help?’ said the sergeant?’

  ‘No,’ said Kirsten. ‘Just do it. Just do the search. That’s all you need to do.’

  For the next hour, after getting her handcuff removed, Kirsten sat watching the cars come off, but there were no Tavares brothers. There was no one of note. All the black women who left the ferry were interviewed. Their hair was checked to see if they were wearing a wig, but there was nothing and Kirsten didn’t recognise them. Neither was the other blonde woman found who had bumped into her before shoving her into the men’s toilets.