Chapter Five

Detective Ray Banks sat behind his desk resting his chin upon his folded hands fingers entwined, elbows resting on the tiny table reserved for those given charge over Cold cases that nobody wanted to accept or take accountability. He’d been a Detective for over twenty years, where experience used to count for something only the young graduates with top degrees were promoted, and with the childish methods used, very few cases were solved. Eleven years ago he requested a transfer from Hilton Police Station to Underberg Police Station. Most thought he was crazy to put in such a request but since his son and wife passed away a few years ago from a hijacking he didn’t want to be reminded of them, and almost every day people kept asking if he was okay. The criminals were set free due to a technicality and he lost faith in the Justice system.

As a parting gift, the Hilton Police Department sent the Cold case files with him. Even over all these years, he had kept all the files, details, and information on all the missing people. He wasn’t too worried about the other cases and usually passed them on to Stan because his attention was focused on the only case he could not solve. And it frustrated him. This was no longer about solving a case it was now personal.

There were no patterns to the missing people and no witnesses. However, over the last week, there had been an increase in missing people, and those found had been brutally killed and mutilated. He rubbed his eyes, red from lack of sleep. I’m getting too old for this. He thought, but he had a long way to go before hitting retirement age. Perhaps some coffee would do the trick.

“Stan.” He yelled over to his colleague also stuck behind a tiny desk except his feet were neatly crossed over at the ankles, resting on the desk, arms folded over his large belly. His dark sunglasses sat firmly on the bridge of his nose, usually indicating the effort to hide a hangover.

“I’m going to grab some coffee. You want one?”

Stan grunted something incoherent and barely moved. Taking a deep breath Ray decided it was probably a yes.

Fortunately, there was Pam’s coffee shop not too far from the station. He may as well move into the place as he spent more time in the coffee shop than in his own office - if you could even call that an office.

“Hi Ray,” Pam said as he entered the shop.

“As usual, using your psychic ability,” He smiled.

He thought she had a lovely refreshing laugh and it cheered him up on his worst days. She was a good woman. “You know I can see your reflection, you smart ass.”

Pam established a really good business in Underberg. The shop boasted a vintage antique look with a long wooden counter embedded in the center was a display counter filled with inviting slices of cakes, muffins, and other treats, better that he does not stare too long otherwise a box of treats will accompany him to the office along with the coffee.

“Busy today, I see.” He looked around the shop and saw many unfamiliar folks. The decorative light wooden tables were matched with chairs, stools, and benches of the same designs. “Out of towners?”

“Yip,” She said. “All for that Halloween Parade and everyone; young and old are giving it their all.”

Ray thought she looked tired. “Well, I suppose some are just into these things.”

“What can I get you?" She grabbed a coffee cup, "The regular?”

“Yes, please. Make it a double espresso and another for my hung-over colleague.”

They laughed. “You sure have an interesting job,” Pam commented as she began mixing up the beans. “Most of these kids here are about to write their final exams and some have qualified early so they having a mass celebration.”

“At this time of year?  Hmm, the Parade's on Saturday night, right?”

She nodded, “The good thing is that it fills up my cash register.”

Ray chuckled, “Thanks, Pam." He paid for the coffee. "New coffee cups?"

"Environmentally friendly." She said proudly, her right arm leaning on the counter with her left hand on her hip.

“Impressive. Better get going and see if my colleague is still alive.”

She handed him a box of donuts, "You look like you need these. On the house."

"Looks like I'll have to add another mile to my morning jogs. Thank you."

“You’re welcome.” She watched him walk out, “See you tomorrow.”

Pam looked over her customers all in vivid conversation and couldn’t help but wonder; what if she’d met Ray at this age.

Stan had not budged an inch since the time Ray had left the office - or so it seemed.

“Here.” Ray placed the coffee on Stan’s desk. “You’d better get yourself together before the Boss sees you.”

Stan pushed his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose and looked at Ray. “Well, it seems Boss does not care whether I am here or not.” With an exaggerated grunt, he removed his feet from the desk. Wrapping his fat fingers around the cup he began to sip the coffee. “Thanks.”

Ray had worked with Stan since he transferred to Underberg who unfortunately had the gift of the gab. Ray knew all about Stan’s childhood in Ireland, then how his family relocated to South Africa, the troubles he faced with his family, schooling years, and siblings. Ray could write an autobiography on his behalf.  On the whole, he was a good guy, flawed in every possible way, but he had Ray’s back.

“So, what did she have to say?” Ray sat down and swirled around to face him.

Miriam was made Chief of Police almost three years ago, the youngest woman in Kwa-Zulu Natal history, and did not let anyone forget it.  Many thought she abused her power but no one could do anything about it.

“She wasn’t happy that you had gone out. I told her something like; that you’d gone to interrogate that prisoner.” He coughed and pulled out a cigarette. “That kid won’t talk. It’s a pretty tight gang and she’s feeling the pressure that we have no leads on them yet.”

Ray lent back on the chair until it creaked. “What does she expect? We’re Detectives, not magicians.  If I can’t get him to talk then he’ll never talk probably be tried as a juvenile, after a couple of months walk the streets again.”

“Yeah,” Stan lit his cigarette. “Oh, I almost forgot. Boss left another file on your desk and said you need to sort it out ASAP.”

“What?” He looked at the new file flopped dead center on his desk. “Dammit, does she think I just sit here and pick my teeth all day?”

Stan shrugged and stood up. “I offered but she insisted you. Be right back I need to pee.”

Ray spent an hour going through the new file. There was nothing new that he could use from the information provided or the sick images of the mutilated body of one of the missing backpackers that had gone missing a week ago.

Yesterday Jackson Rhode's body was found along Bushman’s Nek Pass just past one of the large rock formations. Poor bastard, Ray thought. If memory served him correctly he was sure there was snow over the week they disappeared. According to one of the tour operators, there were three young guys and they planned on sleeping in Tarn Cave for two nights before going to Devil's Knuckles.

Holding a pencil between his fingers Ray kept tapping the tip on his notebook in thought. A habit that Stan hated.

Again Ray perused through all the reports. "Of course!" How could he have missed it?

"What?" Stan asked as Ray sat back in his chair, hands on the top of his head.

He turned to Stan. "It's been there all along. How did I not see it?" 

"What has?"

"The missing people," Ray felt the world spinning around him.

"I'm not following you. Get to the point."

"Our friend in the cell, the robbery, the girl that was injured," Ray repeated all as his brain began comprehending, like a child experiencing ice cream for the very first time.

"Yeah?  So, what?"

"She and her friends are staying at the Silver Springs Farm for a few days."

"And?" Stan was beginning to get annoyed.

"All the victims passed through Silver Springs Farm!"