Peter sat next to Leanne in a booth as she finished explaining the series of events. DC Malone sat across from them with a junior officer to her left.

"So just to clarify, Miss Connor called the Bookies?"

"No, she called my mobile." Leanne stated, not missing the inquisitive glance the detective gave her husband. "Hey!" she snapped to draw Malone's attention back to her, "I said it were my mobile she called. If she wanted to talk directly to Peter she would have called him herself."

At this statement Peter's heart sank. 'Why didn't she call me?' He dropped his head in his hands as realization dawned on him, 'she's trying to keep her distance from me… God this is such a mess!'

Maria and Kirk walked into the unusually quiet pub. "What's going on?" She asked Stella, who just gestured to the booth where her daughter and son-in-law were sat.

"Oh, Maria!" Audrey stated, standing up next to her, "Did you not get my message?"

"Oh no, Sorry Audrey! Liam had hidden me phone and when I found it it were out of charge," She responded, her eyes falling upon DC Malone as she questioned Peter, "What's gone on?"

"Well, apparently it's about Carla-" Audrey began to fill her in

"Problem, Mr. Barlow?" DC Malone prodded. Peter lifted his head and stared into her eyes before leaning back against the cushions on the booth. Rage was boiling beneath his calm surface, but Ciaran noticed the flexing of his fists as he spoke.

"No, no, why would there be a problem? Our –" he pointed to those around him, "-friend Carla, you remember her? The rape victim? Was being tormented by her attacker since she filed the complaint against him. From the word 'go', you lot believed his lies and his little innocent act. It didn't matter that he threatened her two days after he was released on bail the first time; No no, he then gets released again, and decides that since he can't see her and torture him himself-" he leaned forward, his finger pointedly tapping the table as he spoke. Leanne's eyes darted between the officers and her husband as she laid her hand on his arm in a comforting manner.

"…he decides to use his mother as a proxy so that he can continue to harass Carla into dropping the charges against him."

"Mr. Barlow, he was in his rights to use a proxy when it came to the business. In the eyes of the law he is innocent until proven guilty. If Mrs. Foster was indeed harassing Miss Connor she needed only pick up the phone to us."

"Why, so you could 'protect' her the way you did the first time? You know this justice system you speak of is a farce. It is a sad state when an 'alleged' rapist gets more rights than his victim. Do you know that she was considering dropping the charges? Hmm? Just so she could get on with her life? Her sister-in-law here," he pointed to Michelle, who was sat at the bar, mascara running down her face, "-convinced her to go to L.A. so she could clear her mind. Sort out her thoughts without having to worry about bumping into him on every corner. And what happens? He finds out she's had a stopover in Scotland, and he follows her out there-"

"He what?" Maria interrupted as she came to stand next to him.

"Yeah Maria," Peter stated as he leaned back again, "Frank Foster has gone-"

"-allegedly gone-" Malone corrected him.

Peter banged his fist on the table, "it is not allegedly!" he snapped through gritted teeth.

"Peter please, calm down! You won't be any help to Carla if you give yourself a heart attack." Leanne begged him as she stroked his arm comfortingly, tears filling her eyes. The passion behind her husband's concern for Carla making itself clearly known, and it broke her heart to witness it…but Carla's life was hanging in the balance and her jealousy over their relationship would only make matters far worse than they already were.

"How has he been allowed to leave the country, didn't you take his passport?" Maria's voice was now high-pitched with fear.

"His passport was confiscated as part of his bail conditions-" Malone began but was interrupted by Maria who had now stepped towards her placing her hands on the table and leaning in close so their faces were almost touching.

"I warned you!" Maria stated through gritted teeth, her face contorting in anger, "I warned you he would pull a stunt like this! The man is a rapist…he doesn't care about her personal space or the law!"

DC Malone stood up, "We are treating this very seriously. This case is now my top priority." Peter scoffed and rolled his eyes, but she continued, "Look, I know tensions are high right now, so if you can think of anything else please contact me. Miss Connor?" She looked at Michelle, "I'll need the name, address, and phone number of your cousin in Scotland please. I'll need to contact the authorities there immediately."

"Yeah, of course, here I'll come outside." Michelle sniffled and headed towards the doors.

"I'll be in touch." Malone stated to Peter, Leanne and Maria before following Michelle out. Maria sank into the seat across from Peter, as Ciaran came to stand next to her.

"How the 'ell did this happen? How the 'ell did he get out of the country?" Maria asked.

"Well he certainly planned this well," Peter shook his head, "he knows he won't have to hit any border checkpoints going into Scotland. Wouldn't even have had to book a train or a plane to get there. Just filled up his tank and took off!"

"But surely there's still restrictions on his travel?" Leanne stated

"Yeah cause he's such a law-abiding citizen, in't he?" Maria scoffed

"Michelle is just devastated." Ciaran said shaking his head. "She convinced her to go to the States in the first place and now…" he trailed off.

"What 'appened exactly?" Maria inquired. Leanne began to fill her in. After some time, Peter got up and walked to the bar, Ciaran following him.

Gary Windass moved to stand next to Peter, "Hey mate? Listen, what part of Scotland was Carla visiting?" At Peter's inquisitive look he continued, "Only I have some army mates that live there. I might be able to get them to keep an eye out or sommit?"

Peter's crossed his arms, and leaned in close to Gary, "You have friends in Scotland?" he whispered.

Gary nodded as he also crossed his arms and leaned in closer to Peter, "Yeah."

The wheels that began turning in Peter's head were interrupted when he saw Michelle coming back into the pub, fresh tears and sobs wracking her body. Maria stood and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "What's 'appened 'Chelle?" She asked, the horror evident in her voice.

Michelle's voice quivered, "Aid-Aidan called me while we were outside, he were surrounded by coppers. H-he said that Carla's not there. The windows in his kitchen were broken, and the door to the guest bedroom where Carla was staying was force-forcefully entered into, her mobile 'as been smashed. There is no sign of her…DC Malone is talking to the lead detective on the scene!" Michelle furiously wiped the tears from her face.

Malone re-entered the pub, and stood beside Michelle. "I've just spoken to a Detective Baird. They will be running tests on Miss Connor's phone and they are sweeping the house for fingerprints. A witness has stepped forward; a gardener who claims to have seen a man resembling Mr. Foster's description carrying an unconscious female, resembling Miss Connor's description, to a car and speeding away. He has been taken to the station for further questioning, and I'm heading back to email Detective Baird a photo of Mr. Foster." She looked down for a moment before continuing, "However, I should also warn you, that they found blood." Leanne felt the blood drain from her face as she stood on the other side of Michelle who was beyond pale herself. "Small traces," Malone continued, "on the bedside table and more trailing down the stairs and out the door."

At this Michelle suddenly collapsed to the floor, "Oh, God no!" she sobbed as Maria crouched beside her and pulled her head to rest on her shoulder.

"I am very sorry, but I will keep you posted when I have more news." DC Malone stated and she turned and walked out of the pub.

Peter suddenly turned back to Gary, "I need the names of your friends,"

"Why Peter?" Ciaran asked.

"'Cause I'm going to Scotland." Peter responded. Leanne's eyes widened in fear and shock, unable to say a word.

"I'm coming with you." Ciaran said.

"Same 'ere!" Gary joined.

Peter looked at him inquisitively. "Why you?" he asked.

Gary gave a smile, "Because my soldier status will get you around a lot quicker than without me. Plus I'm an extra set of hands to ensure Frank Foster gets his comeuppance."

Peter and Ciaran looked at each other and nodded in agreement, "Let's get a move on then." Ciaran stated.

"Go pack a bag each, and we'll meet back here in an hour. I've got to see to Simon." Peter stated as he made his way to the doors.

"Peter…" Michelle's voice was small, but her grip on his arm was firm; he leaned down to her, "You bring her back. I've lost too many people special to me…I can't lose her an' all," her voice suddenly became strong as her eyes burned with a fire peter had never seen before, "so you bring her back to me, you hear?"

Peter cupped her cheek reassuringly before purposefully walking out of the pub.


He sat in the dimly lit hospital room; the scene bringing waves of déjà vu. Just two months earlier he sat in a similar hospital room watching for any signs of life from his beautiful fiancée.

But this time she is his ex, his victim…and still breathtakingly beautiful.

He reaches out and strokes her cheek. Coming to the hospital was risky, but that head wound worried him.

He remembered opening the door to the bedroom, seeing her standing in the small room just opposite the door; her body shaking violently as tears cascaded down her cheeks. Her hair clung to her wet, tanned cheeks, her eyes wide with fear; her mobile dropping from her hand.

Beautiful.

He remembers slowly moving towards her, watching as she tried desperately to retreat further into the wall behind her; wanting it to open and swallow her up. She was scared of him, and a piece of his heart broke. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. She shouldn't be scared of him; she should be in love with him.

But she would never love him, he knew that. Not as long as she loved Peter.

He felt the anger building beneath his skin, and the need to punish her for not loving him temporarily healed his aching heart.

"Hello, Carla." He whispered. He saw the moment it registered for her: this wasn't one of her nightmares, and she screamed, grabbing the lamp from the bedside table and launching it at him. He ducked just before it made contact with his head and it shattered against the wall behind him. She picked up the trinkets on the table, and threw them one by one in his direction as he dodged them, a smirk pulling at his lips at her futile attempts before he got close enough to reach out with his gloved hands and grab her.

She didn't freeze this time though; this time she fought back against him.

But she was weak; thinner than before, and he knew it was due to the stress and lack of sleep. But she continued to fight him as if her life depended on it. He grunted as she thrashed against him and kicked him in the shin before losing her balance.

He remembered trying to grab her as she stumbled backwards. He remembered seeing her knees give out from under her, and the small scream that escaped her lips before the side of her head connected with the corner of the bedside table with a sickening thud. Her body turned on impact as she crumbled to the floor; the side of her body landed on her mobile, cracking the screen and ending the call to whomever she had on the line.

He remembered her eyes closing as she laid there in a heap on her side, and the panic that rose in his heart at the thought of losing her. He quickly grabbed the towel that hung off the back of the door and pressed it to the wound on her temple before any more blood had the chance to seep onto the floor. He carefully picked her up, and cradled her in his arms.

He moved to the stairs, holding her close as he descended them.

He remembered opening the front door and quickly glancing outside for any possible onlookers. He carried her to the car, and fumbled with opening the door, careful not to drop his precious burden.

He remembered the faint sound of sirens as he placed her in the backseat.

He remembered driving like mad down the street and glancing in the rearview mirror to see if any of the police cars were tailing him.

But the sirens became more and more distant.

He remembered breathing a sigh of relief.

He drove for almost thirty minutes, constantly shouting Carla's name to ensure she kept somewhat semi-conscious, before finally reaching Edinburgh, and pulling into a hospital. He remembered calling for the help of the two male nurses. He remembered them pulling a disoriented but somewhat conscious Carla out of the car, the seat of the car now wet with her blood.

He remembered the triage nurse asking for her name, "Carla-" he paused, realizing he couldn't give them her real last name, "-Gordon" he answered quickly, "I'm her fiancé, Peter Barlow," he felt the bile rise in his throat as he said the bookie's name. But he knew that if Carla had been talking to Peter on her mobile before he burst into her room, that he would have already called the authorities to report him; using Peter's name would provide him with a bit of cover - he wouldn't expect Frank to use his name after all - until he could ensure Carla was okay; and until he was able to make a run for it.

After some more questions from the nurse, he watched as his ex-fiancee was rolled down the hallway, and tears filled his eyes.

How did it come to this?

He remembered the nervousness he felt as the doctor approached him in the waiting room as he nervously paced the corridor, and the relief that overtook him as he was informed that the wound on her temple had been cleaned and stitched up and that she would be okay. He remembered his hands reaching up to cradle his head as tears escaped his eyes…

He hadn't lost her today.

He remembered the feeling of anguish he felt as he entered the hospital room where she laid. He knew that when she woke up, she would scream and he would be caught. He moved over to her unconscious form, and planted a gentle kiss on her lips, knowing it may be his last chance to do so.

He remembered moving the chair closer to the door so he could make a quick getaway when needed, but also picking a better angle to see her.

He had paid using a pre-loaded, unlinked credit card - which he had loaded with thousands of pounds so he would be able to move about undetected days prior- and paid for Carla to have her own private room. It also gave him the privacy to simply sit and take her all in without the prying eyes of other patients and their families.

It seemed like hours later when he finally saw her eyes flutter and he quickly went to the door, "Nurse!" he yelled, as a nurse and a doctor came running. He stood by the door as they approached her, his hand on the handle as if waiting for the inevitable.

"Miss Gordon?" The doctor leaned in gently to her. "Can you hear me?"

Carla's eyes flickered to the man leaning over her, a sudden sharp pain pulsated through her head as small starbursts clouded her vision.

"Hey, try not to move too much. You've given your head quite a blow. You're in the hospital right now, but I need to ask you a few questions, okay?"

"Okay." Her voice was hoarse.

"Do you know what year it is?"

"2011"

"Good." The doctor encouraged. "Do you know the month?"

"It were November, I think?"

"That's right." the nurse furiously scribbled the information down as the doctor asked another question, "Do you know your name?"

Before she could answer she noticed the third person in the room, standing by the door. A wave of nausea fluttered to her stomach, but why she wasn't sure.

"No." her voice quivered, "Wh-why can't I remember my name?"

Frank's heart skipped a beat as he stepped forward. 'Could it be...'

"It's alright," the doctor assured her, "that can happen when you're under stress," he said, watching her blood pressure monitor as it beeped incessantly.

"Carla," Frank said quietly, "your name is Carla." She simply stared at him, her eyes fearful as they flickered between him and the doctor, "Do you remember me?" he asked, still close enough to the door to bolt if necessary.

It took a moment for her to respond, "No," she choked out, "should I?"

Frank's eyes met the doctor's as he was addressed, "Mr. Barlow, may I see you outside for a moment?"

Frank glanced back to the woman in the bed, giving her a reassuring smile before following the doctor out.

"Mr. Barlow, it seems that she might be suffering from post-traumatic or dissociative amnesia."

Frank lowered his eyes to the floor and bit his lip. "And the effects?"

"It generally occurs after a head injury of this magnitude, but the effects are often transient, maybe lasting a few days to a few months. In rare cases it could be permanent, depending on the damage and if the patient is subconsciously repressing memories due to a traumatic episode."

"Okay, well when can I take her home?"

"We'd like to keep an eye on her for the next couple of hours to ensure there are no further signs of concussion, and we should be getting the results of her brain scan back shortly. If all is well she can be discharged within the next few hours."

"Okay then, umm-" Frank put his hands on his hips, "I'm going to go and book a hotel for the night, and I'll be back in an hour or so. If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to ask for a favour." He leaned in close to the doctor, "the result of this accident was due to a fight she had with an ex-boyfriend. I don't want him to find her, so is there anyway we could keep all information pertaining to Miss Gordon strictly confidential? I mean, this guy is quite twisted. He's probably called her in missing to the police..."

"You mean, act as if she is not here?" the doctor questioned

"More or less," Frank responded, "I'll compensate you for any trouble of course..."

"I'll see what I can do." The doctor walked back into the room, as Frank looked on through the glass at Carla.

He smiled to himself before walking down the corridor.

He couldn't believe his luck...