With wide open eyes he stared at the girl on the floor. She was lying very still and he couldn't tell from where he was standing if she was breathing or not. As the echo from the shot he had just fired died away the sound of his own rapid breathing filled the air. His heart beat like a hammer in his chest as he realised what he'd just done. Firing his gun had been instinctive, it looked like she was trying to escape and he had no choice but to stop her. Until after the deed had been done he'd not registered the look of pure fear on the girl's face. Something had scared the hell out of her and she was only acting instinctively just as he had done.

Hurried footsteps sounded in the corridor outside the holding area, they stopped long enough to open the door and when that was done continued to his position. They stopped next to him and he wanted more than anything to take his eyes from the girl lying in the cell and move them to the person standing next to him. His brain refused to register the messages his eyes were sending it him, it wouldn't permit him to move his head.

Slowly the person standing next to him moved away and the person entered his line of vision when they knelt beside the girl. He watched as they placed two fingers against the girl's neck and felt for a pulse. After a minute the fingers moved from the girl's neck and opened up into a hand. The hand coursed its way down towards her shoulder and a wet patch that darkened the black shirt further. Another hand joined the one already at the shoulder and tore the wet fabric.

Unabated by the fabric enclosing it the wound bled freer than before. It was hard to tell where she'd been shot from the front so he decided to see what he could find by looking at her back. Carefully he turned her over onto her side and saw that she'd been lying in a small pool of blood. Doing as he had done with the front of her shirt he ripped it open and saw what looked like an exit wound. Putting her back on her back he tried to see where the bullet might have gone after going through her. There had been too much blood for him to see exactly where it had passed through.

After looking for the bullet a little while he gave up. It was nowhere to be found. The chances were that it was embedded in the wall or even still in the wound. Not being well versed in medical training he didn't want to interfere with her too much. She'd lost a lot of blood and he didn't want to worsen her injuries any more than he had to. It wouldn't be long before someone else came into the room to see what was going on and he wanted to wait to ask for advice.

Captain Clarke walked into the holding area not knowing quite what to expect. He'd been told that someone had been shot and that someone was already trying to ascertain what had happened but something told him that he ought to come himself. Preparing himself for what he might see in the cell he walked around the officer standing stock still and into the cell. He recognised the girl he'd arrested earlier and knelt down on the other side of her.

"What have we got, Johnson?" Captain Clarke asked looking at the officer inspecting the girl.

"Bullet wound, looks like it may have gone right through her shoulder. I don't want to know how close she was to the gun when she was shot but she's alive."

"Hospital?"

"It would be advisable. She's bleeding heavily, if we patch her up and put her back on the shelf she could die."

"Damn, ok. Get an ambulance called then. Tell them that this one's a high alert case, constant watch and sharp objects well out of reach."

Johnson nodded and got up. He started to walk away but stopped when he came to the officer still standing like a statue in the doorway. Something told him to leave the officer be and he left the holding area. Unaware of his actions he went over to a computer in the squad room and deactivated the cameras maintaining CCTV surveillance on the holding area. This done he went over to his desk and sat down. It was some minutes before he remembered that he had to call an ambulance.

Picking up the telephone he speed dialled the ambulance service. It didn't strike him as odd that he requested assistance for two casualties and that the words didn't seem like his own. Like a puppet with a master pulling his strings he danced to the rhythm of Madame Pompidou never once realising what was happening. After hanging up the phone he went into the staffroom. All of a sudden he'd grown very tired and wanted to sleep. Ignoring the queries of some of his colleagues in the room he sat heavily on the overly stuffed sofa and shut his eyes. Rocked to sleep by invisible arms he fell deeply into the land of dreams.

Starting to get cramps from kneeling down too long Captain Clarke stood up and shook his legs to get the blood back in them again. He turned round and looked again at the officer standing in the doorway. The man hadn't moved and his gun was still pointing where it had been when he'd fired it. The colour had more or less faded from his face and he looked like a wax work model. His rapid breathing was the only sign that he was actually alive.

Captain Clarke walked over to the officer and looked at his badge, it read: Sergeant Pembry. It took him a few minutes to remember who the man was. The name was familiar as was the face. Thinking more on it he remembered the man's father, by all accounts he'd been a good officer.

Back in the days when he'd been a sergeant himself Captain Clarke had been partnered with the senior Sergeant Pembry. They'd not particularly gotten on but they'd worked well together. It had been a shame that Pembry had met an untimely end when coming under fire, friendly fire. Internal affairs had never found the person responsible but the only officer that had been close enough to Pembry to get a shot into him had been the man now standing in front of his son.

Cutting off his reminiscences of the past Captain Clarke was tempted to see just what the hold up with the ambulance was but he felt more inclined to leave it. It was quiet down here, only one cell was currently occupied and staying down here out of the hustle and bustle of the squad room suited him. Turning his thoughts back to the girl lying on the floor of the cell he walked back in.

Kneeling back down beside her he looked her over. She was very pretty. He smiled as he traced her body with his eyes. He couldn't see anything for all the clothes she wore but his imagination could compensate for that. Nothing could make him deny that he was sorely tempted by the helplessness of the girl. No one could stop him if took what he wanted but it would be a hard thing to explain if he got caught.

Returning his gaze to her face he tried to detect any signs that she was awake or was going to wake up soon. Finding none he decided to test just how unconscious she was. Moving one of her legs aside he ran a hand up and down it, his rough hands didn't appear to disturb her. Licking his lips he rubbed his hand harder up and down her leg and then moved it to feel what the rest of her prone body had to offer.

His sandpaper rough hands coursed their way all over her body, from her face downwards. Still there was no reaction and his temptation grew. Bending down he whispered in her ear his voice as rough as his hands. He threatened to do things to her, to make her hurt like she'd never hurt before. It surprised him that his rancid breath brought on by unmanaged gingivitis had no affect on her. Convinced that she was well and truly out cold he could contain his temptation no longer.

This would be just too easy and no one would have to know.

Leaning over he pushed the cell door to, it wouldn't do to have Pembry watching him. Alone with his prisoner he undid the button on his trousers and slowly pulled down the zip. Smiling he sat up enough to allow him to pull his trousers part way down, just enough to make it look as if he wasn't doing anything he shouldn't. His smile didn't fade as he parted the girl's legs. He was about to follow through with his temptation when the girl's eyes flew open and fixed him with a look which sent a jolt of fear straight to his heart.

"You want me to be a murderer? Then that's what you'll get." Before Captain Clarke could react Robyn fixed her hand around his throat and squeezed.

A sick smile of satisfaction touched Robyn's lips as she squeezed the captain's throat with both hands and he began gagging for want of air. After what seemed like minutes his body went limp, she could no longer feel his pulse under her fingers. Letting him go she let him fall to floor in a heap and she got up. Listening carefully she could hear Pembry's rapid breathing becoming an incoherent mewling.

"Ready when you are, Sergeant Pembry." Robyn said calmly opening the cell door and taking his gun from him.