Author's Note: Thanks so much for your reviews on the last chapter - Jiwa, xxTeam-Masterxx, Romana-II, 3LW00D, SawManiac211, Aietradaea, Catelly, Catelly, CJaMes12 and mericat. I have to admit, all your lovely comment have made me feel very guilty about neglecting this story for so long. So here's another update! Again, I hope I have got the voices of the characters OK ** chews nails nervously **

Thanks for reading!

CHAPTER FIVE

Detective Inspector Sam Tyler studied the red-headed girl opposite him intently, his brow furrowed in concentration. He usually prided himself on being an excellent judge of character. Being in the police for so long, it kind of came with the territory. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't work Amy Pond out. On the surface, she seemed an ordinary enough sort of girl – nothing supernatural about her. Attractive, with her long auburn hair and willowy figure. Great legs. And a spirited, feisty personality. No shrinking violet, this one – she had taken Gene on without a shred of fear and, God knew, that took some doing. But somehow, Sam could sense that there was more. Amy Pond was odd. All that stuff about him looking like the Prime Minister of Britain. It had sounded like absolute rubbish, the raving of a lunatic, especially accompanied by that weird, compulsive tapping on the table. But the girl's eyes had shown no sign of madness. They had been clear, absolutely lucid – and they had been lit with definite recognition. As strange as her words had been, Amy Pond had believed everything she was saying.

But that wasn't all. There was something else, something he was missing...his keen, analytical brain had observed something significantly out of place about her, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. The thought hovered persistently just out of reach, just waiting for him to grab hold of it, but refusing to make itself clear.

"Come on, Amy, help us out here," he urged, trying to keep the mounting frustration out of his voice. "We need to stop these killings and you're the only one who can help us."

She met his gaze steadily, as if she was trying to work him out, in the same way as he was trying to analyse her. She had a wary, hunted look in her eyes that Sam recognised. He had seen it looking back at him from his own shaving mirror every morning when he had first been transported back to 1973.

She's been burnt before, he thought to himself. Somewhere along the line, she's told someone something important...something out of the ordinary...and they haven't believed her.

"Amy, you can trust me, I promise," he added. "Whatever it is you need to tell us, we'll listen."

Beside him, he could hear Gene shifting impatiently in his seat, but to Sam's immense relief, fortunately – for once – his DCI managed to keep his big mouth shut.

The girl sighed deeply and then said, "I was in the wasteland just beyond the terraces, over where they're planning to put in that big highway. I was...waiting...for a friend. And the little boy ran up to me and told me that he thought his brother was in trouble. He begged me to help him, so I went with him to see what I could do."

"What little boy?" Gene asked, leaning forward.

"Andy," Amy replied. "He said his name was Andy." Then she focused on Gene with a frown. "But surely you know that. He was waiting for me outside the cottage. Isn't he the one who called you?"

"Never saw any little boy named Andy, love," Gene said with a shrug. "Some old duck walking her dog called it in...a concerned citizen. Heard screaming, she reckoned, fit to raise the dead."

"You have to find him!" Amy exclaimed worriedly. "Please! He must be scared stiff!"

"All right...it's all right," Sam soothed, not wanting her to lose her confiding mood. "We'll get Detective Constable Skelton to have a look for him when he gets back from the cottage, OK?"

A suspicious look tightened Amy's features. "So...if you didn't speak to Andy...how did you know Tom's name?"

"Super-Detective there found a bus pass in his pocket," Gene said in a dry tone, indicating Sam with a quirk of his thumb.

"What happened when you went inside the house, Amy?" Sam continued, with a warning glance at Gene, determined not to allow the interview to get off track. "What did you see?"

"I left Andy at the gate and I went inside. I checked downstairs, but there was nothing. So I went upstairs. And I found Tom. I knew he was dead, his neck was all twisted."

She paused, wrapping her arms around herself, revulsion at the memory written across her face.

"And then what happened?" Gene demanded. "Come on, Amy, don't stop there!"

His only answer was a blank look. They were losing her, Sam realised. Gene's harsh tone had made her change her mind about telling them the truth, he could see it in her eyes.

"Amy, something made you scream," he cut in quickly. "Something made you so scared that you hid in the cupboard. What was it?"

As he spoke, something seemed to sift from her left eye. It wasn't a tear. In fact, it wasn't liquid of any sort. It almost seemed to be a fine, soft powder.

"Are you all right?" he asked, a cold feeling suddenly settling in his stomach. "Amy? What's that on your face?"

Amy's hand flew to her cheek, smearing the strange dust on to her fingers and staring at it, her expression one of utter horror.

At that moment, the door into the corridor banged open, making them all jump. There was a peculiar scuffling sound, accompanied by some laboured grunting and swearing. Before long, Ray Carling's broad back hove into view, bent over as he reversed towards them, apparently carrying something heavy. He was followed by Chris Skelton, who also staggered into the room, manfully holding up the other end of the item they were transporting. Whatever the thing was, it was long and narrow and carelessly wrapped in a piece of green canvas.

"What in the name of my saggy left testicle do you two brain donors think you're up to?" Gene exploded angrily. "We're trying to conduct an interview here, if you hadn't noticed!"

"Sorry, Gov," Chris spoke up nervously. "We found this at the house. Ray thought it might be valuable, so we brought it here for safekeeping."

Gene rolled his eyes and snapped, "Well, don't just stand there. Put it down over here and then sod off."

Obediently, Ray and Chris shuffled across to an empty spot near the dusty shelving and carefully lowered their burden to the floor, with audible sighs of relief.

"What the hell is it, anyway?" Gene asked, curiosity overcoming him as he eyed the long, thin shape. "Not another body?"

Ray gave him a conspiratorial grin, pulling back the canvas to display their prize. "Nah. I reckon she'd make a good bird for Chris, actually. Can't answer back, can't run away and can't see how ugly he is."

Looking down, Sam saw that it was a stone angel, like the ones you found in a cemetery or in one of those fancy formal gardens. It was lying on its back, its hands firmly over its face, its wings half spread out behind it.

"Yeah, very funny," Chris retorted, as Gene gave a guffaw of laughter at Ray's comment. Sam couldn't help feeling a burst of sympathy for the young detective constable. Everyone in the station knew that Chris wasn't particularly good with the ladies.

All of a sudden, before anyone else could speak, there was a sharp clatter. Whirling around, Sam realised that Amy had leapt to her feet, knocking her chair to the ground. She was cowering back against the wall, her eyes wide and fixed on the recumbent statue, as if she was too terrified even to blink.

"Get away from it!" she yelled. "And for God's sake, don't take your eyes off it!"

All four men stared at her in bewilderment, all joking around suddenly forgotten at the fear in her voice. Even Gene seemed taken back at her obvious panic.

"Something the matter, love?" he asked with a frown.

"You wanted to know what killed Tom?" she hissed. "Well, Detective Chief Inspector, you're looking at it!"

Astonished, Sam glanced back at the angel on the ground. "What? Are you talking about the statue?"

"You don't understand! It's not a statue, it's a creature!" she cried. "An alien known as a Weeping Angel! As long as you're looking at it, you're safe, because they turn into stone when you're watching them. But as soon as you look away, they come to life. And then they come after you!"

Ray and Chris both coughed loudly, unsuccessfully stifling their incredulous laughter. Sam looked helplessly at Gene, his brow furrowed in confusion. Had he been wrong about Amy? Was their only witness completely insane after all? Surely that was the only explanation for such a totally bizarre story.

Gene nodded, his mouth tight with anger. "Right!" he agreed sarcastically. "This statue is our serial killer. Of course it bloody is, why didn't you pillocks pick up on that? What kind of detectives are you? Ray, slap some cuffs on it."

Amy ignored him, gazing imploringly at Sam instead, as if hoping for some support. "You have to believe me, Detective Inspector Tyler. Please!"

"If the angel is the killer, why are Chris and Ray still alive?" Sam asked, endeavouring to keep his voice reasonable, trying to keep her calm. "Surely if what you are saying is true, it should have killed them by now?"

Gene snorted derisively. "Yeah, I know I would 'ave!" he commented with grim humour.

"It's dormant right now," Amy answered desperately. "Don't you see? It allowed itself to be brought here. It wanted to come, here amongst all these people. And if it gets loose in this station, it will kill everyone in it!"

Gene jumped to his feet in one explosive movement, slamming his fist down on the table with an enormous thump. "That's it!" he roared. "I've had the arse-end of enough! I'm nicking you for wasting police time! This is my city and I've got a serial killer on the loose. I don't have time to waste on some mouthy Scottish bint with mulch for brains!"

Amy didn't back down. Without taking her eyes off the angel, she surged forward and screamed into his face, "I'm telling you the truth, you idiot! You have to believe me!"

But Gene turned away and strode furiously to the door. Sam heard him rip it violently open and shout, "Cells!"

He was promptly followed back into the room by a uniformed officer.

"Bang 'er up," Gene ordered tersely. "Maybe she'll see things differently after a night in the cells."

The uniformed officer grabbed Amy and began to pull her towards the door.

"DI Tyler! You said I could trust you!" she cried, frantically resisting by digging her heels into the floor. "You promised! Please! If you don't listen, that thing is going to kill us all!"

Sam had no idea what to say. So, instead, he silently watched her being dragged away, still shouting his name, until the door closed behind her.

Gene shook his head in resignation. "Why are all the good-looking ones always as nutty as squirrel shit?" he asked mournfully.