Chapter 69 Not Random
The room went silent immediately they heard him. Derek began to pace around, his patience already running thin. What was all this about? How could the truck be stolen? What if it was the kidnapper lying that the truck was stolen?
Who could've kidnapped Rebecca? What did the person want? Was it money? Then hmwhy hasn't there been a ransom call? What was taking them too long? Was his wife fine? How was the baby? Was it fine too?
They could be in real danger and yet, all he could do was wait here and do nothing!
The officer frowned. "Stolen?"
"Yes," the man replied quickly.
The police man nodded. “I see. I'll need to ask you a few more questions. Where exactly were you when your truck was stolen?"
The man sighed on the other end. "I was at a fuel station," he replied. "I had stopped to buy fuel. I stepped down from the truck for barely a minute, and while I was paying, someone jumped inside and drove off."
Derek’s fists tightened at his sides as he listened.
"Did you see the person clearly?" the officer asked.
"No," the man replied. "It all happened so fast. By the time I turned around, he was already driving off."
"How long were you away from the truck?" the officer asked.
"Barely a minute," the man said replied.
Another officer stepped closer. "Why didn’t you come to the station immediately to report it?"
"What? If course I did," the man replied quickly. "I reported it immediately I left the fuel station. They told me they'll get back to me but I haven't heard anything."
The officers exchanged looks.
The technician among them, pulled out a small laptop from his bag and pulled up the police complaint records. He typed in the vehicle number and waited.
"It’s here," he said after a moment. "A report was filed yesterday. The vehicle number matches."
That confirmation changed the mood in the room. Derek's heart beat doubled that he feared he might develop a heart attack.
"So he’s telling the truth," the officer said. "That means he’s not our suspect."
Derek exhaled slowly, disappointment washing over him, as he ran a hand through his hair, frustration burning through him. Just when it feels like they were getting somewhere, it turned out to be another dead end.
"Sir," the officer said into the phone, "where is the fuel station located?"
The man gave them the address.
They talked for a little while longer before the call ended.
"We’re going there," the officer said. "If the truck was stolen there, the CCTV cameras might have captured the person’s face."
Derek nodded. He didn’t say anything. Words felt useless now.
The fuel station was already busy when they arrived, cars lined up, attendants moving quickly from one pump to another. Derek barely noticed any of it, as he followed them inside.
They spoke to the station manager, explaining the situation and requesting access to the CCTV footage from the previous day. The manager nodded nervously and led them into a small office at the back.
The footage from the previous day began to play.
They watched closely.
The stolen truck appeared on the screen, pulling into the station. The driver stepped out to pay after fueling his car. A few seconds passed.
A man moved quickly toward the truck, glanced around once, and climbed inside before driving off.
"Pause it," one officer said sharply.
The image froze.
"Zoom in," another added.
The technician adjusted the image.
The man’s face became clearer.
Derek leaned forward instinctively, his heart pounding.
"That’s him," one officer said. "We’ve got a face."
The footage was immediately copied and sent to the police headquarters for facial recognition and criminal record scanning.
Minutes felt like hours, as they all waited for the feedback.
Finally, a response came through.
The officer read it aloud. "The individual has a criminal record. Recently released from prison. History of armed robbery and kidnapping."
Derek’s fists clenched.
"So we know who took her," he said tightly. "Then why are we still standing here?"
"Because knowing who did it doesn’t automatically tell us where she is," the officer replied calmly. "We’re trying to trace his movements, associates, and possible hideouts."
Derek’s patience snapped.
"This is taking too long," he said sharply. "All this procedure, while my wife is out there and in potential danger. She’s pregnant. She could be scared. Hurt. I just want to see her."
"We understand you, Sir," the officer said firmly. "But this is the fastest and safest way to get her back alive."
Derek turned away, his chest tight with fear.
And then something clicked in his mind.
The investigator.
The call from earlier, the one that caused everything.
The words replayed clearly now about the tension between Rebecca and Vanessa. The hatred. The unresolved bitterness.
What if this wasn’t random? What if this wasn’t just about money? What if Vanessa was involved? The investigator had told him about the strife between the two sisters, so what if she wanted something like revenge or payback? He thought.
Just then, his phone rang.
Derek glanced at the screen.
The investigator.
"I need to take this," he said quickly, stepping away.
He answered immediately. "What is it?"
"I’ve been following Miss Vanessa like you asked," the investigator said. "She’s heading to the airport."
Derek’s breath caught. "The airport?" He asked, what would she be possibly doing at the airport.
"Yes," the investigator replied. "It looks like she’s flying to the same city you and your wife went."
Derek’s blood ran cold. "You’re sure?" He asked, everything was adding up now and they might have finally gotten a legit lead.
"I am," the investigator said. "I don’t know if I should get on the same plane and continue following her."
"No," Derek said instantly. "Don’t."
There was a pause. "Then what do you want me to do?"
"Wait," Derek replied. "I’ll send my jet to pick you up. You need to get here before she does."
"Understood," the investigator said.
The call ended.
Derek stood there for a moment, his thoughts racing.
When he returned to the officers, his expression was grim.
"I just received new information from my private investigator," he said slowly. "There’s a possibility this kidnapping isn’t random."
The officers turned to him sharply.
"What do you mean?" one asked.
"My investigator believes Rebecca’s sister, Vanessa, may be involved," Derek said. "She’s on her way here."