"Why? Because I simply don't believe in ghosts, ghouls and things that go bump in the night."

Jo shot her sergeant a slightly irritated glare. She knew his expression only too well; he was sitting on her desk, leaning forward, hands spread wide in a gesture of innocence which didn't fool her for a second. His brow wrinkled slightly, his brown eyes were wide and guileless. This was Stuart Turner's classic response to most situations he couldn't get a handle on: scepticism.

They were alone here in CID, and even though he was her sergeant, their relationship was close enough for her to call him on his scepticism. "And why do I find myself in the position of warning you to be careful what you wish for?" She glared for emphasis. "Again!" Stuart's arrogance sometimes made for disaster, as he'd been tripped up by his own incredible self-belief more than once.

The part which infuriated her? He wasn't really like that. Difficult, certainly, and insecure, but he had a heart of gold under all that macho posturing; Jo just wished he would be comfortable enough in himself to give up all that jockeying for position. It fooled nobody and irritated some, which was why Stuart often found himself on the outside looking in.

Now he was trying to make her laugh. She watched that half-smile peek out, the way his mouth crooked up at the corners, the dimples which appeared in his cheeks, the way the brown eyes danced. She sighed. It was late, they were on night shift together, there was nothing particularly exciting about the misper which had come in, but the husband's confused tale made no sense at all. It was almost one in the morning and the misper had last been seen on the outer edges of their beat, near an abandoned factory down by the river. From twenty years of policing, Jo knew something wasn't right.

Stuart got to his feet. "We are going to take a look at this factory."

Jo walked over to the rack to collect her jacket. As she picked it up, she shivered. Goose walking over my grave. Something's wrong. She couldn't have said why she thought that, but the two ideas flashed through her mind like lightning.

"Sarge..."

Stuart turned, the keys to the Toyota in his hand.

She looked him in the eye. "Do me a favour: be careful."

"Aren't I always?" That teasing light in his eyes. He was dancing with the devil again, she knew it...

~*~*~*~*~

The old factory was huge, forming an ominous shape in the pale moonlight. Half-rusted signs dangled from the chain-link fence and flapped slightly in the breeze, warning of disaster and death should anyone attempt to enter.

They got out of the car. It had been a relatively warm night when they left the station, but the temperature seemed to have dropped. Jo huddled into her jacket, grateful that she'd also bought her scarf. Stuart fished around in the boot for a torch and they headed over to the abandoned factory. Stuart shone the torch through some of the remaining windows. "Nothing in there." He looked up at the front. "Why Mason thought his wife would be here, I have no idea! But I think we've been dealt a wild goose chase."

Jo put her hand on the concrete wall of the monstrous thing. Above her it reared up like some kind of beast, she thought, waiting to devour us. Something else gnawed at the back of her mind. The concrete felt cold to her touch, even colder than she expected, and again she shivered. Whatever was going on, there was something wrong; there was something wrong about the entire case, the husband's reluctance to discuss what his wife might have been doing in this desolate place, everything had pushed them to that place and she didn't know why. Suddenly the why was crucial, as was the need to leave. Immediately.

"There's nothing here. Should we just leave it, Sarge?"

Stuart shrugged. They had nothing but a wasted journey and a freezing windswept trek around a derelict building to show for it.

"Let's go." He asserted his authority, even while sensing Jo's smile at his bossiness.

Despite the cold and the feeling of doom she couldn't shake, Jo grinned. That was Stu all over: taking charge as always.

They headed back to the car in companionable silence. Stuart reached to turn on the ignition, and as he reversed the lights came from nowhere. Frantically, Stuart stuck his foot hard down on the accelerator. Jo had the brief impression of a large vehicle flying towards them, and Stu desperately tried to accelerate out of the way before the heavy van hit, and they were hurled sideways.

~*~*~*~*~

"Stuart Turner."

Stuart opened his eyes. He was slumped forwards, his body dragging on the seatbelt, his cheek appeared to be resting against the steering wheel and the now-deflated air bag. Car crash. That was the obvious conclusion. Jo. Jo? He sat up with difficulty. Pain ran from his right collarbone arrowing diagonally downwards across his body. The seatbelt. He looked across, but the passenger seat was empty. Jo was gone.

"Stuart. Do I have your attention now?" That voice. Stu shook his head, trying to clear it, while something like a jackhammer lanced up his neck. Even turning his head only slightly, hurt him. A lot. The Toyota had crashed. He had been injured in the crash. That made sense, even if nothing else actually did. He tried to gather his tangled thoughts and unravel them. Now he was hearing voices. Well, a voice.

"Stuart, I don't want to rush you, but there is an element of time critical to consider."

"Critical? Time? What? How?" Stu put a hand up to his head and rubbed gently. He had a hen's egg sized lump above his right eye. He quickly enumerated his other known injuries. He had to get to Jo, and he needed to be mobile to do it. He looked around him carefully. Stars and spots danced before his eyes; he knew his neck injury was quite a serious one; and there was something not right about his right collarbone, as moving his arm hurt. But he needed to get to Jo.

"Tick tock, Stuart. Your partner is lost out there. You have to get her back, or she is going to die. Are you ready, Stuart? Ready to save your partner's life?"

"What.... what do you mean?" Stu groaned as he reached down to undo the seat belt, pushed open the twisted and torn metal which had been the driver's door and half-stepped, half-fell from the driver's seat. He caught himself and leaned heavily against the crashed car, taking in his surroundings. Something was very, very off.

It was as though his world had turned completely grey. It wasn't light, but it wasn't dark either. There was a strange luminescence in the air and he could see a long way ahead of him, across the river back into the city. It looked completely deserted. By a trick of the light, the buildings and streets seemed to be receding. A strange mist flowed around the edges of the ancient factory, which seemed to be getting further away too.

He closed his eyes. He couldn't make sense of it. Jo's words came back to him, about being careful what he was dismissing. He took a shaky step forward. The voice came back.

"Stuart. Jo's in the factory. You have to find her and bring her back. If you don't, Stuart, she's going to die."

He stumbled away from the car, swinging around in a circle. "Who are you? Where are you? Why are you telling me this?"

"You've saved her life before, Stuart. Remember? This should be a piece of cake for you. Just go in there and get her back."

"Who are you?" With an effort, he pulled himself together, tuning out his aches and pains. He headed back towards the factory through the strange mist which seemed to pluck at his legs.

The voice urged him on. "This isn't about me, Stuart. This is about you and the measure of your love for your friend. Save her, Stuart. Be the hero."

The words echoing in his head, he stumbled on, back towards the factory.