Chase - Chapter 1 (Part I)

The setting of the story: King Island, Australia

The ferry slashed through the rough waves endlessly and soon enough, seasickness caught up with Carl. He reached for the handle surrounding the deck for support and started to regurgitate whatever that had travelled down his alimentary canal in the name of breakfast. Mike, the older of the two, walked up to Carl when the latter was finally done feeding the fish reigning the sea south of Australia with his vomit. Carl sat down, with his back against the handle. His expression conveyed a total surrender. The sea breeze did nothing to make him better. It slapped him in his face mercilessly and after a while, his cheeks felt numb. The seagulls did not try to entertain him. They were probably disgusted by Carl’s vomit and dared not sink their beaks into the water to enjoy their meal.

“I thought you were determined this morning, no?” Mike asked in a mocking tone.

“You told me this ride would end in a blink of an eye,” Carl replied defiantly. “You use thirty minutes to blink your eyes once?” He punctuated his last word with a hiccup.

Mike ignored the childish chastise and sat next to Carl, his eyes set on the gigantic expanse of salt water surrounding them. “You see, we are just like this ferry. And this John Foster could be any one of the islands thriving in this vast sea. Any idea as to how we can get our hands on him?” Mike questioned the pale Carl.

“Shouldn’t I be the one to ask that, and you to be the one to answer it? Chief Jones told me to throw any questions at you whenever I face uncertainties, not the other way round. And I thought I had only lost my breakfast to the sea, now even my dinner last night is rushing out,” with that, Carl resumed his feeding, leaving Mike to his own thought. 

Curiosity and disgust gushed out from Mike’s every single pore whenever he thought of John Foster. John Foster, the notorious murderer. How could he? How could he feel no remorse about his action? Mike could only come to the conclusion that John Foster was a devil dressed in a human hide. Twelve lives had been slain in cold blood, and yet, John hid himself well. The government had tried everything for the past five years to capture John, but to no avail. Lives are easily blown to the other world, as though weightless, worthless. 

The villain had escaped the grasp of justice, and it was true that some people even doubted the existence of John since it was so hard to trace this man, only to be replied with a merciless murder time after time. Mike vowed to the heavens that he would, with Carl, put John on the execution chair, though he knew that it would do no good to the twelve lives lost at his hand. But it was to protect the remaining population. Yes, it was to protect the other civilians.

With a thud, the ferry reached King Island. The two detectives got down from the ferry and headed to the police headquarters which was facing the dock. Carl started to regain his normal redness in his cheeks. Their presence was expected and they were immediately referred to the Police Chief, Albert Lone. The chief was a well-built man, with an extremely thin top and an abundance of hair going around his head like a croissant. They finished their greetings in under a minute and then headed straight to the chief’s office. 

The atmosphere became drastically denser in the office. The three men, each equipped with a cup of instant coffee, knew that they had an urgent case in their hands. It was Chief Albert who spoke first, “You already know about the murder. My team has just finished collecting the evidence and processing the crime scene. We have people patrolling every streets in the town. You will follow me to the Lincoln’s in my car later. Many things are still unclear to us. The daughter, who was reported to be the first witness refused to cooperate with us.”

“Then who reported the murder?” Carl asked with a frown.

“The mother, Mrs. Lincoln. She said that their daughter, Sarah, was staring down at her father when she reached home from the market,” Albert explained. “Sarah refused to tell us what she saw, but of course we know who the murderer is, the thumbs of the victims were cut off, as usual.”

Silence. Mike’s train of thought was running. The men were looking at each other, hoping that someone will kickstart the next move. A few moments later, Mike found his voice, “We will know nothing if we just sit here. We should move now.”

The trio hopped into Albert’s Jeep and travelled to the Lincoln’s. A few minutes later, they reached the edge of the town. A small double-storey dominated their view. The house faced the open sea, with a small, carelessly-built jetty jutting out towards the water directly in front of the house.

Albert led the way into the house, and the two detectives tailed the former in silence. “Gentlemen, you are now looking at the crime scene which accommodated the dead body of Joseph Lincoln,” Albert pointed at the floor which sat between the television and the couch. Blood was everywhere, on the couch, the coffee table nearby, the telephone. Mike, a lanky 49-year-old man, crouched down to take a better look at the floor, on which the dead body of Joseph Lincoln had laid just an hour ago. He was so focused that people might think he was having a conversation with the floor.

On the other hand, Carl, who was barely 26, physically attractive so much so that girls often mistake him for an actor, started to explore the living room. There was no sign of break in. The windows were not forced open nor were the glasses shattered into pieces.

“So? What have you found?” Albert asked Mike who finally decided to stand up. 

“Nothing new apart from what was in the file I read in your car just now. I must meet the girl, Sarah you said?” Mike said, his eyes still fixed on the floor. “Where is she?”

“She is upstairs, with her mother. Let’s go,” he gestured to the pair of detectives and headed towards the remaining Lincolns. When they reached the upper floor, they saw a woman, supposedly Mrs. Lincoln, hugging a slim, young girl. “Sir, please let us rest. I’ve told you everything I know,” Mrs. Lincoln pleaded, her voice trembling out of sorrow.

“I insist to talk to your daughter. You want us to catch the bad guy, you have to help us do our job,” Mike stepped forwards and said. “It’ll only take a while, I promise,” he reassured Mrs. Lincoln. She hesitated, and then walked into her room, leaving Sarah with the trio. 

“Can you tell us what happened, Sarah? What did you see?” Sarah was still keeping mum. She appeared to be fidgeting in her seat. His eyes trembling and unfocused. “Don’t be afraid, dear, we are here to help you, to help your dad,” Mike reached for the shoulder of Sarah to try keep her from fidgeting too much.

The girl suddenly found her gaze in Mike’s eyes, and shouted, “You are the villains. You are oblivious!”


CHASE © David Egong 2012. All rights reserved. Check back every two weeks for subsequent chapters or parts.