As I stepped back into the main office, the bustle of police activity buzzed around me. I approached Karl, who was deep in thought, his focus laser-sharp on the task at hand. "Where do you want to start this investigation?" I asked, effectively wrenching him from his reverie.
Karl looked up, momentarily startled, then rose from his chair, which had seen better days. The fabric was worn, bearing the imprint of countless hours spent piecing together cases. He moved towards a section of the wall that had become his makeshift workspace. A single piece of butcher's paper was stuck there, an island amidst a sea of notes, pictures, and files that cluttered the wall. "I've been putting a bit of a timeline together," he said, his voice tinged with a thoughtful, almost contemplative tone.
"On that?" I couldn't help but ask as I meandered towards his desk, eyeing the paper with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. The wall looked like the chaotic mind of a detective made tangible.
Karl simply shrugged, a hint of defensiveness in his gesture. "What? I wanted to get my thoughts out before they disappeared," he explained, his voice a mix of earnestness and slight embarrassment.
"Oh, come on, Senior Detective," I replied with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Give yourself a little more credit," I added, amused by his uncharacteristic foray into what looked like a detective's version of arts and crafts.
"So… what have you timelined then?" I asked, genuinely curious about his approach.
Karl's gaze returned to the wall, his eyes scanning the makeshift timeline. "Not a lot," he confessed, his eyes lingering on the wall that represented our limited understanding of the case. "We know from this," he pointed to a skinny-headed, armless stick figure near the start of the timeline, "was the last time Louise heard from her brother. This second figure," he continued, indicating another stick figure further along the timeline, "is when she sent Kain to check on them."
"And the third one?" I queried, unable to resist a smile at Karl's unexpected artistic expression.
"That's Louise coming to visit us today," he answered, a touch of seriousness returning to his voice.
"Of course," I said, scrunching my nose playfully. I should have guessed that one. As I watched Karl, I couldn't help but admire his methodical approach. He might have his flaws, but there was no denying his skills as a detective. His ability to logically piece together events and observations was commendable.
"We should start by checking their bank accounts," Karl concluded decisively, his mind already shifting gears to the next phase of our investigation.
No sooner had he voiced this decision than he turned on his heels and set to work. His sudden movement and determination were characteristic of Karl; once he had a plan, he wasted no time in putting it into action. I quickly followed suit, my mind already racing with the possibilities of what we might uncover through their financial records.
Having secured access to both Jamie and Kain's financial records, despite the less-than-accommodating attitude of the bank manager, Karl and I settled into the task of combing through the accounts. Karl focused on Kain's financial activities while I pored over Jamie's bank records. The records were surprisingly sparse, offering little in the way of substantial leads. Nothing jumped out at me as particularly significant or telling.
"Well, that was a fruitless exercise," Karl sighed after a while, his voice laced with frustration.
I didn’t respond immediately, still engrossed in Jamie's bank statements. The numbers and dates swam before my eyes, but they failed to paint a coherent picture or offer any meaningful insight.
Karl continued, breaking into my concentration, "Unless Kain has additional investments and finances secretly stashed elsewhere, which I highly doubt given how generous his parents seem to be, he has very simple spending habits, and, frankly, not much money. There's no indication that he purchased plane tickets or jumped on the ferry to Melbourne. But…”
My head snapped up at that. "But?" I echoed, my interest piqued. It wasn’t like Karl to leave a thought unfinished.
"Looks like Kain is a fan of the game Candy Crush. There are a few small transactions from the game at around 11:00 P.M. on the night before he visited Jamie, but I don't see how that's going to help us determine what happened after he saw Jamie. If he ever did see him, that is."
I mulled over this new piece of information. "You don't think he did?" I asked, trying to gauge Karl's thoughts on the matter.
Karl shrugged slightly, his expression thoughtful. “I'm not sure yet.”
His uncertainty resonated with me. The lack of details we were uncovering seemed to lead to more questions rather than answers.
"Well, I might have something," I declared, a flicker of hope igniting within me as I reached the end of my perusal of Jamie's bank statements. I grabbed the last statement with a sense of urgency and thrust it towards Karl. "There, look at the last transaction," I insisted, my finger pressing down on the page, highlighting the specific entry I wanted him to notice.
"Possibly," Karl murmured, his eyes scanning the transaction details. His reaction was cautious, a slight nod accompanying his scrutiny, but he clearly wasn't as convinced as I was.
"Possibly?" I couldn't hide my incredulity. "Only possibly? This is huge!" The discovery had set my heart racing, the implications of it unfolding in my mind like a crime novel.
"But it doesn't prove anything, nor give us any real information to go on," Karl reasoned, ever the pragmatist.
"He totally drained his bank account in a single transaction three days ago!" I countered, my voice rising with excitement. "Louise is clearly justified in suspecting some sort of foul play." I paused, taking a deep breath to steady myself. The thrill of the chase was getting to me. "I reckon that Luke Smith killed Jamie, then Kain caught him covering up the body, so Luke killed him too," I hypothesised, my mind running wild with the possible scenario. This could be my first major breakthrough in a murder investigation, I thought. I could feel it in my bones.
"Sarah!" Karl snapped, his voice sharp, cutting through my train of thoughts like a knife.
I went silent, stung by the abruptness of his tone. As much as I was falling for him, and I was – teetering on the edge of admitting deeper feelings – Karl's short temper was something I struggled with. It was one of those traits that made him both infuriating and endearing in equal measure. However, after my brief interaction with Louise, I couldn't help but wonder if there were deeper, darker reasons behind his often fiery temperament.
Then, there he was, lost in his thoughts again, standing in silence as his brilliant mind whirred away. He was completely absorbed, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. I watched him, waiting anxiously for the right moment to interject. I knew all too well that timing was crucial with Karl. Interrupting him at the wrong moment could be disastrous, akin to startling someone in a deep dream right on the precipice of a nightmare.
Suddenly, Karl's voice broke the silence. "Aha!" The word escaped his lips spontaneously, a rare slip that betrayed no conscious intention on his part.
"What?" I seized the opportunity, curious to know what had sparked his sudden exclamation.
Karl, however, seemed oblivious to my question, continuing his internal deliberation. I waited, watching him intently as he mentally pieced together the puzzle. Finally, he seemed to snap back to reality. "Sarah," he said, his voice now calm and focused. "If we can find Kain, he'll lead us straight to Jamie."
"Are you sure?" I questioned Karl, genuinely surprised by his sudden assertion. Keeping up with his rapid-fire thinking was often a challenge, especially when most of it remained unspoken, swirling in his head like a private whirlwind of deductions and hypotheses.
I sometimes wondered if Karl assumed I had telepathic abilities, considering how rarely he shared his thought process with me. If only he knew that I was far from possessing any secret mutant powers or sorcery. Life as a detective would certainly be a lot easier if I did.
"Jamie has all the skills to go off the grid if he wants to. That'll make him hard to pin down on our own. We need Kain. He's the one who can lead us to Jamie," Karl explained with a certainty that seemed to come from a deep well of logic and reasoning.
Go off the grid? The phrase hung in the air, and I wanted to delve deeper into that thought, but Karl was already ahead of me, his mind racing forward. I had to focus to keep pace with him, mentally noting every piece of information, every clue.
Karl’s ability to weave together disparate threads into a cohesive narrative never ceased to amaze me. His insights often proved invaluable, and I respected his methods, even if they were sometimes frustratingly enigmatic.
"I don't think you're going to find anything, but if Jamie has that much cash, he could have purchased plane tickets without leaving an online record. I want you to follow up with both the Hobart and Launceston airports to check whether either Jamie or Kain have boarded any flights in the last five days," Karl instructed, his voice laced with a mixture of determination and urgency.
"Okay," I responded, a hint of uncertainty in my voice. I was still trying to fully grasp the direction Karl's plan was taking.
"And when you're done with that, given Kain's ute is missing, go and check with the ferry service. There's a chance they could have made it to the mainland."
"I'm on it," I said, nodding with enthusiasm. This was the part of detective work I loved – the thrill of chasing down leads, the adrenaline of the hunt. "And what are you going to do?" I asked, driven by curiosity.
Karl paused, his gaze distant as he contemplated his next move. "I'm going to visit Luke Smith."
I couldn’t hide my surprise at his response. It was unusual for Karl to approach a key suspect alone; we always did these things as a team. "But—"
"Time is of the essence here, Sarah. If my hunch is wrong and you're closer to the mark, then Jamie and Kain are in danger, and we have to divide and conquer," he explained, his tone firm and final.
"Fine," I replied, masking my disappointment and resisting the urge to further challenge his decision. I ran my hands down my pants, feeling the edges of the folded scrap paper hidden in my pocket. A reminder of the secret I had yet to unravel. Anyway, you've got your own investigating to do, I reminded myself, feeling a surge of apprehension mixed with excitement.
"This is bloody ridiculous!" The words burst out of me like a dam breaking, my frustration hitting its peak as I slammed the phone's receiver back onto its cradle with more force than necessary. My ears were still ringing from the monotonous hold music that had been my only companion for what felt like an eternity, over half an hour. All that time, just waiting, waiting, waiting for my call to be transferred to someone, anyone, in airport security. The inefficiency of it all was beyond infuriating; it was maddening.
In a huff, a storm brewing inside me, I pushed myself away from the desk. My movement was a bit too forceful, more a reflex of my mounting irritation than a conscious decision. The chair I was in went careening backwards, seemingly with a mind of its own, hurtling towards the bookshelf crammed with files and faded photographs. For a split second, I saw myself causing a disastrous domino effect, but I managed to catch myself just in time, narrowly avoiding a collision. My sudden, abrupt movement drew a few curious glances from my fellow officers. I could feel their eyes on me, probably wondering what had gotten into me, but I was too wrapped up in my own bubble of irritation to care.
With my head held low, a futile attempt to mask the annoyance that I was sure was written all over my face, I marched across the room. Each step was more determined than the last. I needed to get this sorted, and wasting time on hold with a faceless entity at the other end of the line wasn’t helping anyone, least of all me.
I approached Officer Ellen Lowe, the very epitome of nonchalance as she sat at her desk, seemingly engrossed in something far more interesting than work. Slumping down in the visitor's chair next to her, I could feel the weight of the day pressing down on me, making my movements heavy and tired.
"Go away, Sarah, I’m busy" Ellen's voice cut through the air, raspy and tinged with the unmistakable gravelly tone of a dedicated smoke enthusiast. Her words were blunt, yet I wasn’t deterred.
"No, you're not. You're looking at Facebook." I pointed out, a hint of playful accusation in my tone. I could see the top of a cat meme just visible on her screen, typical Ellen.
Ellen, with an air of mock indignation, closed her browser. "What do you want?" she huffed, her eyes finally meeting mine, expressing a mix of annoyance and curiosity.
"I need you to follow up on some information from the Hobart and Launceston airports for me. You've got great relationships with them. You'll get results quicker than I will," I said, laying on the flattery a bit thick. It was an age-old tactic, but effective, especially with Ellen.
"Fine," she replied dryly, her expression unchanging, but I could tell she was mildly pleased with the compliment.
"Great." I handed Ellen the file containing all of our case notes on the Jamie Greyson investigation. "You'll find everything you need in there," I added, pointing to the first page where I had meticulously listed key information and questions. I knew Ellen preferred a succinct summary over wading through pages of notes.
Ellen glanced at the file with a blank expression, clearly hoping for more verbal guidance to avoid the task of reading through everything. I sighed inwardly but obliged.
"Essentially, all I need you to do is find out if Jamie Greyson or Kain Jeffries boarded any flights in the last few weeks," I explained, trying to keep it as simple as possible for her.
"Should be simple enough." Her response was non-committal, but I knew she would get it done.
"Thanks, Ellen. I owe you," I said, rising from the chair, feeling a small wave of relief wash over me.
"You mean you still owe me," Ellen corrected me, a slight smirk playing on her lips.
"Exactly!" I replied with a forced chuckle. As I took several steps back towards my desk, eager to escape before Ellen could change her mind or add to my already long list of debts to her, a sudden thought stopped me in my tracks.
"Oh, and Ellen," I said, twisting back to look at her.
"What?” Ellen’s response was curt, her patience clearly wearing thin.
"Can you check the same with the Spirit of Tasmania, please?" I threw in the last request, knowing full well it might be pushing it, but it was necessary. Without waiting for a reply, I turned and walked away, my mind already racing ahead to the next task.
