There was little enough to go on that evening. Once again I rolled through my notes, the documents, and the testimonies. Nothing came to light. Only one thing niggled at the back of my mind. Bract and his response when I had told him of Luna’s kidnapping. Perhaps I shouldn’t have let the man go. Perhaps I should have hauled him in for questioning. And what of the nomad camp that Luna and Ronnie had spied on? Perhaps they had been spotted and perceived as intrusive. Perhaps there was more to that story than I had thought at the time. The disappointingly minimal amount of leads in the case was forcing me into investigating tiny edges and corners that I would have otherwise completely ignored. In the capital, such small discrepancies would have seemed nominal, even a waste of time. But here, the crime was horrifying but subtle, almost as if it was a fairy tale. The mood was strange. There were so many unknowns for me.
I slept poorly again that night, but managed a few hours. I awoke to the text from Meryl that Luna’s story had been broadcast county wide. There it was, we now past the 48 hour mark. And not even a whiff of Luna’s whereabouts.
“I’ll find you,” I muttered to the copy of her picture, as I had mumbled to so many other faces turned into the two dimensional. I remembered them all, but most especially the ones I had never located, or the ones I had located, but too late.
I already knew what I wanted to pursue the moment I got to the station. Mr. Bract required another visit, if indeed he was still in the area and hadn’t moved on. And Ronnie another visit as well. Ronnie would be first. We drove out to the Granger’s at approximately 7 AM. It was a Saturday, so all the family was home and accounted for. Mr. and Mrs. Granger looked surprised at our return.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask Ronnie a few more questions about the times she and Luna went to see the nomad camps,” I said to their bemused expressions.
They seemed to hesitated for a moment. Then Mrs. Grander called up the stairs and Ronnie emerged, hair astray, sleep gumming her eyes. But she livened almost instantly upon seeing us again.
“Good morning Ronnie. I was hoping to ask you a few more questions,” I said.
The girl swallowed but nodded. “Did you find Luna?” she asked, as only the very innocent or perhaps very sleepy could in such a scenario.
“Not yet, but we’re looking hard. Come on into the living room.”
Ronnie sat on the edge of the couch, her parents hovering not far off.
“Ronnie, the times you went to see the nomads, can you describe what you and Luna saw those days?”
Ronnie looked extremely uncomfortable, but to her credit, she played ball. “Um, well we were on the edge of a ridge looking at the camp,” she began. She paused to recall. “The first time, there was like cars and trailers and horses and all sorts of stuff. It was smokey cause there was fire burning. They were like, cooking and eating I think.”
She rolled her shoulders. “The second time was…weird. It was like the first time, but there were lots more.”
“How many?”
“Like 30 or something. We didn’t count. We saw them do some weird things. Like they were chanting like in church but then they all started to dance.”
“Dance?” Oak asked.
“Yeah, like waving their arms and moving in circles. It was weird. We left after that. Then the third time,” she glanced apologetically at her parents. “It was like they were having an argument.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, leaning forwards.
“Like, they were fighting about something. Like mom and dad do sometimes.”
The Grangers glanced at each other, abashed. Ronnie, who hadn’t noticed, said, “but it was like, more. They were all really mad. We couldn’t tell what they were saying, it was in another language. We decided to run home. When we went back to look a few days later, they were gone.”
I jotted down notes for a few moments. Finally I came to the punch. “Ronnie, do you think anyone saw you when you were there?”
Ronnie was quiet for a while. “The last time, when they were fighting, I think a man saw us. He stared at where we were at for a long time.”
“Did he do anything?”
“No, he just looked at us.”
“What did he look like?”
Ronnie shrugged. “He was tall, kind of thin and he had a beard. He looked different than the rest of them. He looked like a lumberjack.”
I furrowed my brow, but didn’t comment. “Ok Ronnie, is there anything else about when you saw them?”
Ronnie slowly shook her head. I nodded. “Thank you.”
We headed out, but before we could get to the car, Mr. Granger came out of the house to find us. “Do you think Luna was taken because the girls witnessed something with these nomad folks?”
“There’s no evidence to suggest that Mr. Granger,” Oak said quickly.
Mr. Granger ran a hand through his hair. “Is Ronnie in danger too? Are they going to try to kidnap her as well?”
“We don’t know anything for sure. But it’s not a bad idea to keep your daughter close and safe for the time being,” I said. “We’ll let you know as soon as we discover something.”
Mr. Granger nodded and returned to his doorway. We got into the car in grim silence. As we pulled away, I could see Mr. Granger gazing westward towards where the nomads had been camped that summer.
“Drop me off here, will you?” I said, making up my mind as we approached the footpath off the main road where Luna’s taking had occurred.
“What? I thought we were going to the Sheriff’s office to review the forensics?”
“You can handle that right? I want to chat with our friend Mr. Bract again.”
“You want me to join you?”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“I think it’ll be best just me for now. If these nomads get spooked by cops, he’ll be terrified of you.”
Oak huffed at the weak joke but smiled none the less. “Alright, give me a call when you need a pickup.”
I saluted as she dropped me there and then moved swiftly through the trees to the track I had found yesterday, and then the lighter path leading down the ravine. True to his word, Bract’s camp was still in place I was pleased to see. This time upon growing close to the camp, I called out several times to announce my presence. I waited before entering. A few minutes later, I saw Bract emerge from the edge of the trees, carrying his bow but with no arrow notched this time.
“Mr. Bract, it’s DI Senel. I wonder if I could have a word with you?”
Bract moved into his camp, observing me. He looked much the same as last time, but with a green flannel shirt. He set his bow and quiver down against his trailer, then crossed over to sit by his fire. He motioned me forwards. I walked into the camp and Bract waved me to sit across from him on a stump. I did so, looking around. I was again struck by how tidy everything was. Compared to the larger nomad camp west of the Granger’s house, this place might not have belonged to a nomad at all.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Senel?” Bract examined a tin kettle as he spoke, then took out two chipped teacups and poured some of the dark liquid from inside. He passed one to me. I took it and the smell of coffee surrounded me. I raised the cup to my lips just to be polite but was surprised to find that the brew was good, excellent actually. It tasted a little different somehow than the coffee I was familiar with.
“That’s not bad,” I commented.
Bract’s beard twitched. “We call it caparo, it’s coffee with a bit of roasted cedar bark.”
I watched Bract as he sipped his own brew. “Where is it that you come from?”
Bract shrugged. “Country up north. Isn’t that what they say about us nomads?” The way he spoke made me quite certain that he disapproved of this narrative. But I wasn’t here for a history lesson.
“Mr. Bract, I wanted to ask you about a…nomad camp that would have been just north of here over the summer. Were you in the area at that time?”
Bract lowered his cup and nodded. “I came here in the summer, the camping is good here, and there is good hunting.”
“And were you aware of a larger camp in the area I’ve described?”
“I was.”
“What can you tell me about them?”
Bract raised an eyebrow. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything at all.”
Bract gazed at me for a moment, then rolled his shoulders. “They were Kasepo, five families or so. Some more came in later in the season. I talked to them a few times, told them where the best hunting was and where the springs were nearby so they could find good water. They were an ok lot, pretty much kept to themselves.”
“What do you mean when you say Kasepo?”
Bract took in a deep breath and flashed me a smile. “You do not know our world. It’s not like your townie world.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, Inspector, that you think of us as all one people, as nomads. Where in fact we are many different tribes each with unique history and lineage.”
“Ok,” I said, trying to keep up. “So Kasepo is one tribe.”
Bract nodded.
“What tribe are you?”
Bract’s eyes narrowed a moment. He didn’t answer. After the silence dragged on for some time, I amended, “perhaps that is a more personal question than I know. Forgive my ignorance.”
He nodded, and then looked at me expectantly as I flipped to a page in my notebook.
“Were you present at the Kasepo camp the day that an argument occurred later in the summer?”
Bract’s face twitched with surprise. “How do you know of an argument?”
“Witness testimony. Were you there?”
“I was.”
“Could you tell me any details about what the argument entailed?”
“For what purpose?”
“It could be relevant to the case of the missing girl.”
Bract didn’t say a word. I waited for a moment and then rifled through my backpack until I found the thing I was looking for. I handed it to Bract. He took the picture and gazed at it. There was no point hiding her face, as it was all over the news now.
“This is her, Mr. Bract, Luna Lampour. She’s ten years old and she’s been missing for over 48 hours.”
Bract gazed at the picture for what seemed minutes. Then he looked up at me.
“You are fortunate indeed to have a picture of her. Traditionally most of our peoples shun photography. But secretly, the parents desire the picture of the child, the lovers desire a picture of each other, and the child desires the picture of the parent.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
Bract took a sip of his coffee. Then he said, “you are fortunate too, to have a system in place to help such a girl. There is nothing and no one to help our people in such crisis.”
I cocked my head and leaned forward. “Are your people in such crisis?”
Bract let out a short breath. “You want to know what the argument was about over the summer? Not an argument, an accusation. I make a kill earlier that day, but it is a large buck, too much for me to eat alone. So I go to the Kasepo camp to ask if they cared to split the meat in exchange for helping me butcher the buck. The moment I walk into camp, it is in uproar. They see me and they are furious and terrified. They begin to accuse me of the crime, which I know nothing of. I am having a hard time understanding.”
“What was the crime?”
Bract shook his head. “A daughter of the camp was gone missing the previous night.”
My heart began to beat swiftly. “A child went missing? When was this?”
Bract cast his gaze up at the leaves above our heads. “It was just at the timing when the green plum moon was full. What is that, middle August in your calendar?”
“And the girl, was she found?”
Bract shrugged.
“Well how old was she? What did she look like? What was her name?” I asked in desperation, my pen hovering over the page.
Bract sniffed loudly. “Why would I know? She is not my child.”
“You must know something,” I burst out in frustration. “If this is an operation to kidnap young girls, we need to learn everything we can.”
He stared at me expressionless. I couldn’t tell a single thing going through his head. I lifted the coffee to my lips again in the interim. Damn, that tasted good. But it wasn’t good enough to calm my nerves. I was about to stand up and leave, but then he spoke.
“I see the girl one time, when I first go to their camp. She must be ten to twelve years old. Normal little girl, I don’t know, long hair and a pink dress. Her name I remember, because the mother is crying it over and over when she is missing. Lysha.”
I nodded, scribbling away. But Bract was shaking his head. “That’s all I know. They were on the offensive, so I leave. Never saw them again, they move camp a day later.”
“Do you know where they are now?”
Bract shook his head, but at the same time I saw his eyes narrow as if he were trying to recall something.
“Not even a guess?”
“They could be anywhere. Our people move often to many places and for many reasons.”
“But why would they leave the area so quickly if the child had just gone missing? Wouldn’t it have been wiser to stay and see if she turned up?”
Bract scratched at the back of his hairy head. “A missing child can be more than a tragedy, Inspector. It can mean to send a message. To illustrate a point. Or to get what one wants.”
I ground my fingers against the ceramic cup. “What are you saying? That the girl was taken as collateral?”
Bract sighed and shook his head again. “How would I know? They are not my tribe, I know not their stories. I am not a detective, I do not ask intrusive questions. I keep to myself.”
“Right,” I said, standing up and staring blankly around the camp. “So you’re saying that the taking of this girl Lysha and that taking of Luna are unrelated.”
Bract shrugged. I glared at the coffee cup still in my hand, then took a last swig and set it down on the stump I had just vacated. A mixture of excitement at a potential new development in the case and a great disappointment at its apparent uselessness battled within me.
“Would you help a missing nomad girl, Inspector?”
Bract was looking up at me with a curious expression on his face, as if he planned to doubt any words that came out of my mouth.
“Of course. But I would need proper intelligence, to speak with the family, to get full statements from anyone who knew the girl.”
Bract raised an eyebrow. I grunted. “To be perfectly honest, if this is being reported to me now, second hand and more than a month on from the moment of her taking, I see very little chance of finding the girl. That’s even setting aside the fact that yes, I do not know your world.”
Bract nodded as though he had expected such an answer. It irked me. My hand folded into a fist. “Even against all these odds, Mr. Bract, I would still try. A missing girl is a missing girl, no amount of cultural differences change that fact.”
When I looked back at him, his face was guarded and I could no longer read his expression.
“Thank you for speaking with me. And if you happen to hear of the Kasepo family’s whereabouts, I would be much obliged if you let me know.”