Chapter 4

Crewe, United Kingdom

Earth

Monday,, August 11th, 2014

Once again, bloody Minshull New Road was a car park!

Just once, thought Adam Pritchard, Just once it would be nice to get from one end of this road to the other without getting stuck in sodding traffic!

He'd only lived in Crewe for a couple of years. Ever since Crewe, somehow, had been granted City Status and become the proud owner of Britain's newest, and smallest, Metropolitan Police branch.

He drummed on his steering wheel as the cars began to move slowly forward. Before long he was at the roundabout junction with Pyms Lane, where a slew of traffic turned off to head for the newly expanded Rolls Royce complex, and the other businesses that had sprung up in the the area since 1989. It was only fair that some good came from the tragedy that was Winsford.

Let's be honest, he thought, Crewes newly found status and fortune was entirely down to Winsford. So many companies were ran out of Winsford after the cordon went up, and where did they resettle? Crewe.

But it wasn't just industry that came. All those who lived there had been evacuated to the surrounding towns, but most followed their jobs to Crewe.

All that was left in Winsford were old cars, empty houses, and UNIT.

In the 25 years since the disaster, the United Intelligence Taskforce had set up a permanent base in what was left of the Wharton Gardens Estate. Everyone knew that there was something odd about the town. Why else would there be a UNIT presence? Why else was the cause of the disaster still unknown?

He crossed the roundabout and was finally able to put his foot down a little. He looked to the new housing estate that had sprung up on his left. Well, it wasn't 'new' now, it had been built in the early 1990s, but he knew the locals still called it new. It was new, compared to the 1960s sprawl of Leigtion Park that stood opposite.

He turned left into the estate and slowed down as he looked for his destination. This estate was a warren. Countless little rows of houses branching off in all directions. All of them were named for families who had lost children in Winsford. Dunleavy Way, Carden Road, Williams Avenue. Which was fitting as this estate was built solely for these families, and other survivors. He wanted 15, Sugarman Crescent. And here it was, off to the right.

He pulled up behind a police car outside number 15. Grabbed his phone and wallet, and jumped out.

Detective Inspector Adam Pritchard was in his late 30's, sporting a head of light brown hair, which had a little tuft of grey at the front that he was always told was 'fetching' and 'unique'. So unique, in fact, he was sick of hearing it.

He didn't think he was the snappiest dresser. He owned 5 suits, and they were all the same; grey, and straight from C&A. However, he felt he may ruin the look with the size 9 DM's he always wore.

He told himself that his insistence of wearing the almost identical white shirt/grey suit was a throwback to his Army days. Either that, or he had no fashion sense. He was betting on the former.

He walked up to the drivers window of the already parked patrol car and knocked on the window.

The young constable inside wound the window down. "Morning, sir."

"Morning Pete. What you still doing here?"

Pete sighted. "The FLO's still in with the parents. Want me to hurry her along?"

The Family Liaison Officer, or FLO, was a well meaning woman in her 50s who tended to go on a bit too much. Besides, she shouldn't be here until after he'd spoken to the family.

"Any sign of DS Downing?" Adam asked.

Detective Sergeant Claire Downing had just recently been transferred to Crewe CID, and she'd declared that she was Adams' new 'Buddy and/or Shadow.' A sentiment that left him feeling a bit odd.

But, she kept to her word. They'd become a bit like one of those partnerships American films would have you believe existed in every police station in the world.

She was an excellent copper to boot. She was dedicated, driven, and sometimes, a little scary.

Adam started up the driveway to the front door of number 15. As he did so, he started thumbing through his phone contacts to give Claire a ring to see where she was.

Just as he found her, he was surprised to see her coming out of the front door with the FLO. Who, Adam noticed, had a very strange look on her face. Almost like she'd been caught sleeping in school.

"When did you get here?" Asked Adam, pointing to DS Downing.

Claire Downing was shorter than he was. She was dressed in blue jeans, which appeared to have boots underneath. As well as dark pink top and denim jacket. She looked more like she was going to do the weekly shop at Fine Fare, nevermind serving in His Majesty's Police Force.

Before he met his colleagues, the FLO did what only could be described as a sprint over the lawn of number 15 and to her car.

"What was that about?" Adam asked.

"Oh.. the parents are a bit shook up. I think it got to her."

Adam wasn't at all surprised by his colleagues total lack of sympathy. That was another thing DS Downing had going for her; a total lack of any emotional involvement in the cases she worked on. Cool headed was very much her style.

Adam nodded slightly, thinking that 'a bit shook up' was probably his colleagues way of saying 'out of their minds with worry.'

They both walked back to the house. "What have they said?" Asked Adam.

Claire shrugged. "The usual."

Adam expected as much, they'd be in denial, like most people in their position were.

It's not like her. Or, and this was his personal favourite, she seemed so happy.

What did happiness have to do with it? Did people not consider that the reason someone had gone missing was because they'd been taken against their will? Do these people think that nut job abductors go up to a person and ask "Excuse me, are you happy?|" And nod, smile, and walk away if the person replies in the affirmative?

As they approached the front door, it was opened by who Adam assumed was the father.

"Mr Jenkins?" Asked Adam, as he held out his hand.

The man in the doorway took the proffered hand, and nodded. "Inspector Pritchard?"

"Adam, please."

The other man gave a small smile. "Then I'm Steve, This way."

He led the two officers into a bright living room. The large window at the front of the house let in a generous amount of the August sunlight. Thankfully, with it only being just after 9am, the temperature hadn't yet risen into the 20s.

Sitting on one of the dark leather chairs (they must get bloody hot, thought Adam) was a pale woman who looked like she'd not slept in quite a few days.

Claire walked towards her, kneeling down in front as she she took the woman's hand.

"Hello, Dawn. My colleagues here now. And I want you to tell him all that you told me."

Dawn Jenkins looked down at Claire. It looked like she'd just come out of a deep sleep.

"Oh. Hello, Claire. Yes. I'll tell him everything."

Claire released her hand as she stood up, As she turned towards Adam, he noticed that she seemed to be putting something back into her top. Adam raised a questioning eyebrow.

"My necklace fell out." She replied.

Adam nodded as he sat down on the couch opposite Dawn. Claire joined him.

Adam took out his phone, popped out it's stylus and got ready to take notes. He began to read from the ones he'd already gotten at the station.

"Victoria Jenkins. Aged 36. Current address is 21, Tatton Road, Crewe."

Both parents nodded at him as he read this. Then, the questions began.

"When was the last time you saw your daughter?"

"It was three days ago. She came round to return a suitcase she borrowed. She was supposed to be going on a hen do but didn't in the end."

"I've looked in the suitcase already. Nothing in there."

Adam was a bit taken aback by Claire's statement. But he shrugged it off and carried on.

"Who's hen do was it?"

"A friend she knew in school. Lucy something-or-other."

"Benson." Steve Jenkins offered.

Adam thought he better tread carefully with his next question, even if it did sound innocent. "Which school did they attend together?"

He was right to be cautious. Dawn took a breath and said. "They were at the Verdin."

He should have known that.

"How did you daughter deal with the disaster?"

Steve answered, a tad angered. "How the hell do you think she dealt with it? She lost almost all of her friends. It was blind luck that she, Lucy, and Becky survived."

"Becky?"

"Rebecca Arnold. The three of them became very close afterwards. Although I think Vicky and Becky have had words."

"Have you checked with Ms. Arnold to see if she's seen your daughter?"

Dawn spoke this time. "Yes. She came over yesterday. She was the one who said we should contact you."

Adam made a note to go have a chat with Rebecca Arnold. Then he pressed on.

After an hour or so, Adam felt they'd got all the information they needed. They gave their assurances to Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins that they'd do all they can, and then left.

As they walked back towards Adams' car, he glanced briefly at her his notes before talking to Claire.

"What do you think?"

"I think she's had enough of the daly drudge, dumped her kids with God-Knows-Who and is drunk in a bar somewhere in Blackpool."

"Certainly the weather for it." Adam replied, as he looked up at the blue summer sky. This past week had be exceptionally warm for August, and the Met Office were predicting temperatures as high as 32°C.

As he scanned the sky, he saw a small black dot move swiftly across the sky, the small red flashing light on its bottom just about visible. It was a Civil Emergency Drone. The skies of the UK were full of them. Their job was to monitor any incident or disaster that might befall the British people.

Yet another consequence of the tragedy of 1989.

Adam pointed up at it. "I wonder if we could get some of the footage of one of those to track our missing person?"

Claire knew he was joking, and gave a polite laugh. "If you manage that, you'll be the first."

Adam nodded. "True. But CCTV footage is a good start."

"That could take hours!"

"I better get a shift on then, shouldn't I?"

With that, Adam walked to the drivers' side of his car.

"You want a lift?" He asked Claire.

"No, but thank you. My cars around the corner. I'm going to track down this Rebecca person."

"Right ho. Meet me back at base at… 1pm?"

"Sure. See you then."

Adam smiled as he climbed into his car, and gave a little wave as he drove off.

Once she was sure he'd gone, Claire let out a deep sigh.

She knew this was going to be complicated. But not this complicated.

She started to walk back through the estate towards the main road. Just before she reached the exit to the estate, she ducked down an ally, sure that no one had seen her.

Once away from prying eyes, Claire pulled a small, white piece of paper from her pocket. A piece of paper she'd found in the suitcase at the Jenkins house.

She felt a twinge of guilt from lying to Adam. But, once all became clear, she knew he'd understand.

Clare looked at the piece of paper for what was possibly the 26th time since discovering it.

On it were 5 lines of symbols. Each row was different. Not one row was the same as the other.

Expect in one thing. They all said the same thing.

Claire knew what it said, and in all five languages.

She was sure she knew what had happened to this poor woman. Almost certain.

With a determined sigh, she pulled her own phone from her pocket, flicked through her Contacts, and made a call.

The other end was picked up almost straight away.

Claire spoke. "It's me. We need to talk."

The voice protested at the other end. Claire was having none of it.

"I don't care. I'm cleaning up your mess, and the least you could do is agree to meet me."

The voice gave apologies, and asked where should they meet.

"Your house."

More protests from the voice.

Claire took a deep breath. "It's okay. No one will see me enter or leave your home. That wouldn't be good for either of us."

Claire ended the call. Double checked that there was no one around.

And then she vanished.