The street lamps gave out a dull, fog misted light, reminding Owen Harper of one of those old black and white films, when the victim, dressed in Victorian garb, wanders innocently along the cobbled street, waiting to be set upon by something nasty.
He glanced towards the bay, half expecting to hear a fog horn, bellowing, forlornly, out of the darkness, but everywhere was quiet, except for the occasional, strident complaint, of a distant car horn.
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the window frame, then looked down, into the street below him. Nothing was moving- not even the neighbourhood cats, probably curled up on a mat somewhere, in front of a radiator, he thought, turning away from the window.
As usual, he found himself looking at her picture- one of the few things he'd succeeded in unpacking from the scattered piles of boxes, that he kept meaning to sort out, but some how never quite got around to. The only room that was free of them was the kitchen, and that was only because he had run out of boxes, and decided to bring the smaller things he had in his rucksack and buy the rest- not the best decision he had ever made!
"Tomorrow, we start looking," he murmured quietly, gazing at the photo of Katie, as she smiled cheerfully back at him.
"I'm not going to let them get away with it, faking car accidents, covering up the truth. They're not going to brush facts away, as if they didn't matter-I'm not going to let them."
Reaching out, he touched the photo, tracing the line of her face with his finger, he stopped by her lips,"We're not going to let them," he corrected himself.
A brief, pinging sound, turned his attention towards food, "Grubs up," he murmured, finally looking away from the photo. "Not that it'll ever win any awards- gawd forbid!" He commented, as he headed for the kitchen.
Finally succeeding in removing the film that covered the top of the tray, he juggled it towards the table and then dumped it on top of a towel and attacked the food with a fork.
"What the hell was this supposed to be again?"he mumbled, peering at the cardboard sleeve, "Hmpf... don't know who's suffering more from wishful thinking, them or me!"
Finishing his meal, he dropped the tray into the bin, rinsed the fork under the tap, wiped it with a piece of kitchen towel and put it back into the drawer, then taking a beer from the fridge, he wandered back into the sitting room, finally stopping by the window.
He watched, as an SUV pulled sedately into the curb. Taking another swig from the bottle, he waited.
Owen smiled, that was the one good thing about new properties, and especially this one, as long as the lights were out in the room, or at worst dimmed, anyone looking from outside, would presume there was no one home-just the way he liked it!
. . .
Jack guided the SUV into the curb and turned off the engine, glancing out of it's tinted windows he looked upwards, "I wonder if your home," he murmured, then tapped instructions into his wrist strap and waited.
"Watching me, I see," he smirked.
Pushing open the door, he got out, closed it with his elbow, and then strode, purposefully, across the pavement, the alarm beeping forlornly in his wake, as he headed towards the entrance.
Stopping by the door to Owen's flat, he checked the readings once again on his wrist strap, puzzled, he tapped the face, then waited, but nothing changed. Strange! Owen was still standing looking out of the window-why hadn't he moved towards the door?
He stabbed the bell push with his finger and waited, listening for movement from inside the flat but there was nothing.
Impatiently, he pushed the bell yet again, keeping his thumb pressed against the button this time, in an attempt to make it ring longer. "Don't play silly buggers with me, I know you're in there ," he murmured under his breath.
. . .
Owen turned slowly away from the window and sighed, "Persistent bugger, aren't you!" He grumbled, finally moving slowly towards the front door.
He could hear the sound of impatiently shuffling feet and grumbling, Jack clearly didn't like to be kept waiting.
Shrugging, he took another swig from the bottle, then wrenched open the door, just at the point when Jack had leaned over, and was about to start attacking the letterbox plate.
Owen watched him from under hooded lids, as his new boss straightened up and forced a smile, clearly attempting to cover up his annoyance, at the other man's reluctant response to the doorbell.
"Ah, there you are, thought you'd gone out," he murmured, then marched past him into the flat.
Blinking slowly, he peered after him, as Jack went into the living room, "Don't mind me, I just live here," he mumbled, at his retreating back, then slammed the door shut and slowly followed him.
Jack stopped in the centre of the room, glancing around him, "Still settling in," he commented flatly, quickly looking away from Katie's photo, and getting the full power of Owen's glare. It seemed that the anger that had made Owen hit out at him at the cemetery, was alive and well and lurking dangerously close to the surface!
"Beer?" Owen enquired, less than enthusiastically, then drank the remaining dregs from his bottle.
Jack shook his head, "No, thanks all the same, this is just a flying visit," he said, moving towards one of the chairs, then changing his mind, he added, "Just to let you know that it will be later than we agreed, something's come up, and I won't be able to pick you up."
Owen shrugged, "Okay, fine, what time and where?"
"About 3 o'clock... outside the tourist information centre- it's a bit difficult to find," Jack pulled a leather bound note pad from his pocket, looked around, then leaned on one of the storage boxes as he sketched out a map.
"It's a different entrance to the one we used before," he murmured as he sketched, "I may be a little late," he handed over the map, "Just wait for me, okay?"
"Okay," Owen said, taking the paper and following Jack as he turned to leave.
As he passed an open box, Jack stopped and picked up a small, pink bear, with a red heart and love you embroidered on it, he turned back, grinning, "Cute!" he said, amused.
Owen glared at him, he snatched it from Jack's fingers, spitting the words, "Katie's," at him.
Immediately realising his mistake, Jack backed away from him, " 'course it is, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..."
He never got the chance to finish.
Owen pushed past him, opened the front door, and stood pointedly waiting for him, his gaze fixed on the skirting board of the opposite wall.
Jack made a rapid exit, murmuring, "See you tomorrow," as he passed him. He was barely through the doorway, when the door slammed shut behind him.
Mentally reprimanding himself for his mistake, Jack headed for the stairs.
. . .
Owen leaned against the door, gazing up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly, the tiny stuffed bear crushed between his fingers, as he fought to regain his composure.
"Dammit!" he swore loudly and hurtled towards the living room, then stopped and glared towards the photo of Katie, " If I didn't need him..." he growled.
Suddenly realising the damage he was inflicting, he loosened his grip on the bear, and attempted to fluff it out again.
As it's face went back to it's original shape, he smiled, then shook his head, glancing automatically towards the photo, yet again.
"What the hell made you want this?" he queried, then turned and dropped it back into the box. "Never understand women!" he murmured, and wandered towards the window.
The SUV was turning out of the street and out of sight.
Owen looked down at the directions Jack had given him, clicking on a table lamp as he passed, he moved over to the coffee table, then opened up his laptop and waited.
"Right, let's see what we can find out about this place," He murmured to himself, and began searching for maps of the address he had been given and then checked to see if it was listed as a tourist information centre or not.
"No surprise there then!" He said to himself, when after half an hour of chasing links, on various internet sites, he found nothing to suggest the place he was interested in, existed.
Several hours later, he sighed, rubbing his eyes. Closing up the laptop, he slumped back into the chair, "Looks like I'm just going to have to wait until tomorrow," he said to himself, then yawned.
"Time for bed, said Zebedee," he said, yawning and standing up, he turned off the lamp and made his way to the bedroom.
. . .
The following morning found Owen Harper peering at himself, bleary eyed, in the bathroom mirror.
"God, you look rough," he said and sniffed, then groaned at his reflection. "You do realise, that you've started talking to yourself rather a lot, lately?" he asked himself.
"Yeah, course you do," he replied, then shook his head, "You really should get out more."
Cheerfully slapping shaving gel on his face, he then began searching through the bathroom cabinet, hunting around for his razor.
"God, Katie, why didn't you tell me I was this bloody disorganised?" he grumbled to himself, wiped off the gel with a towel and wandered back into the living room. Where the hell was that electric razor?
"Oh sod it- dishevelled is in... if it wasn't, it is now!" he mumbled and headed for the kitchen.
. . .
Owen leaned against a post and checked the time on his watch yet again, Jack hadn't been kidding when he said he might be late! Folding is arms tightly across his chest he stared, vaguely, down at the floor.
"Sorry!" Jack yelled breathlessly, arriving rapidly in front of him, "Have you been waiting long?"
Owen looked up, and smiled vaguely at him, and waited.
"Took longer than I thought, what time is it?" Jack asked him.
Checking his watch,"Half past three," Owen murmured, standing upright, and preparing to move towards the door.
Jack nodded, "You're left handed?"he enquired.
"Nope," Owen replied
"Oh! I thought..." He said, pointing towards the other man's right wrist.
Owen shrugged, "Long story," he said, vaguely, clearly not intending to give any details.
"Okay," Jack paused, "Well, we'd better get started," he smiled and lead the way towards the door.
"There's no one in here at the moment, so you're going to have to use the door code and then let yourself through to the lift."
The door swung open and Owen followed him into the old fashioned, and somewhat dishevelled office.
Jack went round the back of the counter and pressed a button to lock the door, then activated the access into the corridor. Owen glanced down at a rather battered looking newspaper, that had been discarded on the counter.
"Where's Windscale?" He asked, he couldn't remember any recent nuclear problems.
Jack moved towards the doorway, "Changed it's name to..." he paused, "Erm, where are we? Twenty First Century, so it would be... Sellafield."
"Oh, right!" Owen said, sounding relieved, "Cumbria- glowing sheep."
"Yep, that's the place," Jack confirmed, marching through the doorway, Owen behind him.
They stepped out of the lift, and Owen watched, as the huge door rolled slowly back, accompanied by flashing lights and a siren, then they both stepped through the doorway onto the floor of the hub.
Jack rotated on the balls of his feet, quickly looking around him, his coat doing its usual theatrical twirl.
"Toshiko?" He yelled, then turning back to Owen, smiled, and said, "She'll be around here somewhere. You've already had the guided tour, so it's just a case of getting you settled. I don't think there will be anything extra you'll need in the autopsy room, but if there is, just shout and I'll see what I can do."
Owen nodded, murmured, "Thank you."
A voice yelled from above his head, "You looking for me?"
He looked up and saw someone peering down at them, from a walkway high above their heads.
Jack looked up and grinned, "Owen, that," he nodded up towards her, "Is Toshiko Sato, I.T. genius and general all round brain box," he said, an amused look on his face.
"Toshiko, meet Owen Harper, our new medic."
She smiled down at him, offering him a drink, Jack shoved him towards the staircase.
Owen did as he was told, he didn't really want a drink, but Jack had said she was something to do with I.T., he might need her help at some point.
Toshiko smiled at him, then started rattling cups, Owen attempted to smile back, the sooner he got his bearings and accessed the information he needed, the sooner he could get out of this hell hole.
The End