Thank you guys so, so, so much for the sweet comments :) I'm so happy you're enjoying this. But what about the mysterious note John found?

Chapter 8

Early in the morning, the nightmares came back. Only this time, Clara saw the face – her own face – dead, lifeless, lying on a table underneath a white sheet. There was something peaceful about the way she had looked, but somehow, Clara knew that peace was probably one of the last things she must have felt before her death. Could anyone really go peacefully? Wasn't the fear of death, the fear of the unknown something everyone shared? Clara Oswald wasn't scared of death itself, she wasn't scared of what might come after, but she felt strange when she thought about her own body being lowered into the ground, covered with earth and it didn't matter how many losses she suffered, a part of her just felt a primal need to cling on to life.

When she realised that her thoughts were beginning to circle around death and the faces of everyone she had had to let go, Clara pushed the duvet aside, put on her wellies and her warmest coat and then she headed outside.

Today, the air was surprisingly mild and Clara decided that a nice walk before school would probably help clear her head. Amy had advised her not to go out while there might be a murderer on the loose, but Clara wasn't afraid of that. For a moment, she wondered if Kate Stewart would tell her anything about the investigation when she came to pick up her children today. Maybe she should ask her, try to figure out what the police knew. Didn't Clara have a right to be informed when the dead woman looked like the spitting image of her?

A sound made her look up and at first, she wasn't sure where it had come from and what it meant, but when it happened again, Clara recognised the voice and the name that was being shouted even before she spotted the dog running across the field.

"Odin!"

The chocolate Labrador dashed across the meadow, not paying his new owner a bit of attention and Clara had to hold back a laugh when she saw the figure that followed. Detective Inspector John Smith was running after the animal, flapping his arms in despair, but he failed to catch up with his dog and it seemed as if his shouts were falling on deaf ears. The dog clearly had other ideas than returning to him.

Not knowing what else to do, Clara crouched down and clapped her hands. "Odin! Come here!"

Whatever the dog was chasing suddenly became a lot less interesting when he spotted Clara and Odin turned around, slowed his pace and trudged in her direction. As soon as she was able to reach him, Clara grabbed the collar with one hand and used the other to pet the dog's head.

"You're a good boy, aren't you?" she asked Odin, who now seemed entirely happy standing still because of the attention she was paying him. His fur was soft, especially around the ears, and Clara rubbed them happily. Whatever John Smith's father had told her about the dog being aggressive had been a blatant lie and she felt an odd sense of satisfaction that she got to touch the animal after all even though the previous owner would never know. "You're a very good boy."

"I beg to differ."

Clara looked up and smiled at the rather offended looking detective. Maybe he could tell her what they had found out about the body of the woman if she played nice?

"I think he just needs to get used to you," she replied and rose to her feet when John Smith put the dog back on his lead. "He was your father's dog, wasn't he?"

John Smith scoffed. "Even the newcomers know everything about everyone here."

"My friend Amy told me who you are because you failed to introduce yourself when you broke into my house," she explained. "I'm a long way from knowing everyone around here. I just know my students and their parents and that's about it. I don't go out much."

Finally, a soft smile appeared on the detective's face and it seemed a little awkward, as though he didn't smile very often or as if he reserved the gesture for those who he thought were deserving of it. "You're right. I inherited the dog along with the house. I was going to give him to a rescue place, but it didn't seem fair. I mean, he's not exactly a puppy anymore and he's used to the house."

"Look at the bright side," Clara said with a shrug. "At least you have a companion. I'm sure he'll get used to you."

Again, John Smith smiled. "Would you like to walk with us for a bit?"

Clara checked her watch and noticed that she still had enough time before school and it was an opportunity for her to find out what he knew about the dead woman, so she nodded in agreement.

The dog had been sniffing around the field, but he seemed to understand that the lead made it impossible for him to get away now, so Odin just walked next to them, only occasionally giving her or John Smith a nudge. While Clara was still pondering how to start, the detective didn't seem to want to waste any time before he brought up the subject.

"There's something I want to ask you," he began carefully. "You can decline, of course. You have every right to. But it's something that our pathologist brought up and I wanted to see if she was right."

Clara turned her head and looked at him as they walked, but she couldn't read any kind of hint from his face. "What is it?"

John Smith hesitated as if he felt uncomfortable asking her about it. "It's about the resemblance."

"I don't have any siblings if that's what you're going to ask me."

"It's exactly what I wanted to ask you," he replied and now looked back at her. Clara could tell from his expression that he was serious about it. "I was wondering whether you'd be willing to do a DNA test. Then we'd know for sure whether you're related or not."

"What part of I don't have any siblings did you not understand?" Clara spat and instantly realised that her voice had come out too harshly. She quickly cleared her throat and glanced away to avoid his curious look. "Sorry, I just… I'm an only child. I grew up alone. There's no sister that I know of and my father never said or did anything that would make me question that."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled quickly. "I didn't mean to imply that… well-"

"That my father had another child with someone who wasn't my mother or his new wife?"

"His new wife?" John Smith enquired carefully.

Clara blew the air out between her teeth and stared ahead for a long moment. She had come to this place for a fresh start and she had hoped to leave all the emotional baggage behind. "My mum died when I was a teenager. Dad got a new wife."

There was a long silence between her confession and his reply, but when he spoke, his voice was unusually soft. "I'm sorry. If it's any consolation, I know what that feels like. I also lost my mother at a young age, but there was never a replacement. My father never found anyone who could tolerate him long enough."

Clara scoffed. A replacement was not what her father's new wife had been, not even close.

"As I've said, you have every right to say no to the DNA test, but to us, it would be a box we could tick off. We have nothing to go on," the detective admitted and he sounded a little desperate. "The only thing we have is your resemblance to her and even if it's unlikely, we just want to be certain whether you're related or not. Even if she was a distant relative, we'd have somewhere to look. Without a connection, we have nothing."

Clara considered her options carefully for a moment and chose not to reply immediately. What would happen if she agreed to it? And above all, what would happen if she didn't? She had read about it. Would he wait around until she left a mug unguarded or dropped a piece of gum to do the test without her consent? Wouldn't it be better to just say yes?

"Alright," she replied and then shot him a dark look. "Under one condition."

John Smith seemed relieved and his smile widened a little. "I could buy you a coffee," he suggested, sounding hopeful.

In response, she frowned at him. "That's not my condition," Clara said sternly. Coffee? The suggestion had come out of nowhere and taken her a little by surprise. She wasn't entirely sure what to think. Did he want to buy her a coffee because he liked her or because he wanted to interrogate her further?

Suddenly, John Smith uttered a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry, that came out wrong," he apologised quickly. "I just thought that, um, you might want someone to talk to after… you know, the body and… what was your condition?"

Clara exhaled sharply and continued to look ahead across the fields. She could see her house from here as well as the old Campbell Estate, a true eyesore among the beautiful landscape. "I want to know about the dead woman. You're right, she looks an awful lot like me and I feel like I have the right to know what happened to her."

"Well, like I just said, there isn't much," the detective replied. "She probably died of hitting her head on the rocks, but we don't know whether she jumped, fell, or was pushed. The police are still searching the coast for any kind of clue."

"That's all?" Clara wanted to know.

"Yes."

She glanced at him because the tone of his voice sounded strange all of a sudden and somehow, Clara felt like he was lying – or maybe not so much lying as omitting details. There was something else, she could feel it. And it made the detective tighten his grip on the lead.

"You, um, you haven't remembered anything else, have you?" he asked, his voice almost brimming over with uncertainty. "That maybe you've met her after all?"

"No," Clara replied brusquely and then decided to change the subject. "I'll stop by the police station after work to give you a DNA sample for your test."

When they parted ways and Clara returned to her house while John Smith led his dog back across the field, she still wasn't sure whether he liked her or whether he suspected that she had something to do with the dead woman. That was something she would have to figure out.