Torchwood_Long Time Dead

  Tomorrow her overseas accounts would be reactivated and she could leave both Sue Costa and Suzie Costello behind and head to her new life. She didn’t think it was going to turn out exactly as she’d planned it when she’d put all her back-ups in place all that time ago – given her new propensity for killing, she may have to travel a lot – but she’d always wanted to see more of the world. She sighed as she stepped under the hot water. She’d start in Africa somewhere maybe, somewhere where the sun could beat heat into her. That would be perfect. Bad policing and beautiful weather. What more could she want?

  She opened her eyes to reach for the shower gel, and it was only then that she noticed the change. Her hand froze in mid air for a moment. The red light beneath her skin had gone. Had it stopped working? Her heart raced. Would that plunge her back into the nothing? She took a deep breath. No. The viewing device was working. She could feel the vast black pit on the other side of her eyes. Where had the light gone then? As her breathing regulated, she grabbed the gel and squirted some into her hands. There was only one obvious answer. The device was no longer just on the other side of her skin. What she’d idly thought the previous night was right. The device had broken free and moved further inside her body. She was slightly surprised at how calm she felt. She had planned to have the device removed as soon as possible once she was away, but that might be trickier now, depending on where it attached itself next. Her heart? Her liver?

  She tipped her head back in the water again. She could worry about that later. As it was, she was slightly comforted by knowing that the dimension needed her as much as she perhaps needed it. Taking the device out would mean risking going straight back to nothing if it was purely the alien technology that was keeping her alive.

  As much as most of her now believed that she had a higher purpose and that she would be fine without it inside her, there was a very tiny part of her – that had to be what was left of the old, weak Suzie Costello who sought everyone’s approval and thought she was worthless – that was still convinced that Death would claim her if she got too cocky and thought that perhaps she’d hugely underestimated the power of the dimension inside her. It was the same small voice that didn’t want to kill the Detective Inspector. She would, though – she had no real choice. But, and she smiled and thought of the body still tied to her bed, there was no reason for her not to enjoy him first. To get the attraction out of her system. She rubbed the shower gel onto her naked body, and as she closed her eyes again, it was DI Tom Cutler’s hands she was feeling.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It wasn’t the sort of party Cutler normally went to and, although he had too much quiet personal confidence to feel uncomfortable in the midst of all of Cardiff’s social elite, he did find himself loitering in the corners of the vast, opulent room and just grabbing a fresh glass of champagne and a canapé as the trays passed by.

  Despite having devoured at least a tray of various nibbles, his stomach still rumbled. There had been no time to grab any food after getting back to the station and then hearing about the fresh victim, and having to pass all that information onto the Commander as if he were some kind of obedient pet bringing a newspaper to his master. He’d even had to dress up for this occasion, so any chance he might have had for a quick burger had been taken up with a shower and digging out a half-decent suit from the back of the wardrobe. He also wanted a cigarette.

  The police commissioner was in the gathering somewhere, but Cutler had simply given him a nod as they passed. He might be the only person the DI really knew at the party, but he’d rather skulk around on his own than spend the night talking to his boss and having to laugh at his jokes. He scanned the little clusters of men and women laughing and chattering over their drinks. He told himself he was just idly people-watching, but that wasn’t the truth. Every time he saw a flash of brown curls his heart jumped a little. There was only one person he was interested in talking to tonight, and that was Sue Costa. He almost laughed at himself. He was acting like a teenager with a crush. Or if not a crush, then a very definite hard-on.

  The party at the Town Hall was to celebrate the financial green light to the redevelopment that would restore Cardiff Bay to its former glory once Jackson and his team were done, and as Cutler strolled around the layout and shining model laid out on a table in a side room, he felt the strange lure of the site again. His heart thumped loudly in his ears. What was it about that place? What was it trying to tell him? Every time he was there or saw something related to it, he felt an annoyance at himself – as if he was being particularly stupid and not seeing something clearly before him.

  ‘It will be good to have the Bay back to normal, won’t it, Detective?’

  Commander Jackson had appeared out of nowhere, or at least that’s how it seemed to Cutler who’d been staring down at the model, lost in his own thoughts. He nodded slightly and then frowned and tilted his head. ‘The water tower is back. They can get in and out without being seen.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  Cutler looked up, surprised. ‘I didn’t say anything.’

  The Commander stared at him for a moment. ‘Yes, you did,’ he said, carefully. ‘You said something about the water tower.’

  ‘Did I?’ Cutler’s brain itched with information out of his reach, but nothing came to him. ‘I liked the water tower. I just thought they might be replacing it with something new.’

  Jackson continued to stare at him, but just as he looked as if he might say something more, they were interrupted.

  ‘Hello, boys.’

  She looked stunning, that was Cutler’s first thought. The black dress was fitted to her like a second skin and he was pretty sure there was no room for underwear beneath it. It stopped just above her knee and her coffee-crème legs were bare down to her shiny high-heeled shoes.

  ‘Looking good,’ he said.

  ‘Not so bad yourself, Detective,’ Sue Costa smiled, her dark eyes twinkling playfully. ‘I wasn’t sure you owned a decent suit.’

  ‘Oh, there’s probably quite a lot you don’t know about me,’ he countered. They smiled at each other as if Elwood Jackson, in his full uniform, wasn’t standing, slightly perplexed, between them.

  ‘Well,’ the Commander finally said, ‘I’ll leave you two to it. There are members of the press here, and I don’t want them seeing us together for too long.’

  Cutler nodded and so did Sue Costa, but neither of them looked his way.

  ‘One thing though,’ he continued, ‘before I go. I’ve been trying to get some information on who that DNA sample belongs to.’ That did make Cutler look up for a second. ‘And?’

  ‘Nothing so far. It’s very strange. It would appear that the files relating to whoever it is have been deleted. I should know some time tomorrow by whom, but until then, I can’t tell you anything.’

  Cutler watched him carefully for a second. He had a good eye for a liar, and although he was sure the Department could lie with the best of them, Commander Jackson was an Army man at heart, not a Department player. If Jackson hadn’t wanted to give him an ID, he’d just have told him it was classified and he’d deal with it. ‘Let’s see what tomorrow brings, then.’

  The Commander headed away into the nearest small group of people, and Cutler wondered if he felt as out of place amongst the smugly successful business types and their tennis-playing, socialising wives and husbands as he did. More so, he imagined, but the Commander was smiling and listening intently to a silver-haired, pearl-laden, pink-lipsticked old dame as if he were born to it.

  ‘Not your idea of a good night out, Detective?’ Sue Costa was watching him thoughtfully, and they turned away from the architect’s model and walked towards a quieter area near one of the large windows.

  ‘I’m that easy to read? And it’s Tom.’

  She smiled and looked back at the party that was going on without them. ‘They’re all rather smug and self-satisfied, don’t you think? Very pleased with themselves, even though none of them do anything
particularly remarkable with their lives.’ Her eyes had darkened thoughtfully, and for the first time he saw a softness to her. The flirtatious smile had dropped, and he found that she was more sensuous without it. ‘They couldn’t do what you do, or what the Commander does, or what I used…’ Her voice drifted away. ‘How is the murder hunt? Keeping you busy?’ The edge was back in her voice and her back arched playfully. She was something of an enigma; he was learning that fast.

  ‘If the past couple of days are anything to go by, then all I know is that one way or another everyone in Cardiff seems intent on dying at the moment.’ His words didn’t even feel like an exaggeration. Between the murders and the strange I remember suicides, there was an invisible pall hanging over the city. He’d also checked in with the desk sergeant over the student whose friend had gone missing, and he hadn’t turned up yet either. He said he’d disappeared into a black shadow in the wall. It had just sucked him in. The desk sergeant had sniggered at that, but it disturbed Cutler. All three series of events were strange and that part of his brain that itched and dragged him to the site whenever he had a free moment was sure that somehow they were all linked. The military coat. The easy smile. He shook it all away. Tonight wasn’t the night for that. Tonight he wanted to lose himself in Sue Costa.

  ‘Whoever’s committing the murders doesn’t seem to want to either slow down or take their hobby elsewhere. But then, maybe when your boss can get to the files we’ll know whether the killer is someone on his team or not.’

  ‘Oh, I think we can be sure of that, don’t you?’ A knowing smile danced on her lips.

  ‘Well, all the evidence certainly points that way. We found the suit. The Department stepped in. Ergo, they know they’re to blame.’

  ‘All that is true.’ She leaned up on tiptoes, so that her face was at his ear. She smelled sweet and her breath was warm enough to send tingles running up his spine. ‘But there was also the small matter of the first murder. It happened on site. The morning you found the suit.’

  ‘What?’ He turned to look at her, his eyes widening. ‘Your boss didn’t tell me that. Where’s the body? What—’

  She grabbed his arm to hush him. ‘Don’t look so obvious. It doesn’t make any difference to the investigation. I just thought you should know. Think of it as a gesture of goodwill.’ Her hand lingered on his arm. ‘Of course if you tell the Commander you know about this, then I’ll lose my job. So I’d rather you didn’t.’ She smiled. ‘Not just yet, anyway. He wasn’t Army or Department, I don’t think. Just a geeky scientist boy. Nothing to look at. The kind of man that would probably have never really lived, however long he lived. Lovely eyes, though.’

  Cutler looked at her, fascinated. Was she being intentionally cruel, or just observational? ‘Can you get me his file tomorrow?’ He leaned forward and spoke softly. His heart thumped hard. Was she feeling this overwhelming chemistry too? What was it about her? It was almost as if he recognised something of himself in her – something that he’d forgotten. As if she of all people could understand him, maybe better than he did himself. They belonged together. He knew it with a certainty. ‘You are the liaison, after all. You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.’

  She sipped her champagne. ‘It’s not back- scratching that I’ve been thinking about all afternoon. Although we can do that too, if you like.’

  Cutler was lost for words. She was absolutely gorgeous and that was a clear come-on. Even with the chemistry between them, he’d been sure he was going to have to work harder than that. ‘Your place or mine?’ he said.

  ‘Yours.’ She laughed slightly, as if at some private joke. ‘Mine’s a right bloody mess.’

  They drained their glasses and no one noticed them leave.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Eryn Bunting woke up with a start, for a moment completely confused about who and where she was. She gasped for breath and fought a panicked scream that rose in her chest.

  It was the darkness. The darkness was here. And there were unimaginable things hiding in it.

  She sat up, blinking, and slowly the shadows took on familiar shapes: cupboard, chest of drawers, heap of unironed clothes in the corner. The faint glow from the street light a few metres down the road from her house made the edges of the heavy curtains a slightly lighter colour than the rest of the room, and she focused on it as her breathing steadied.

  It was nothing, she thought. Just a bad dream. What did she expect after the strange couple of days she’d had? All those questions by the police and finding out someone had used her ID for something had left her feeling odd. Slightly violated and yet curious about a person she could only see as a doppelgänger of herself walking around Cardiff. The police hadn’t told her what the woman had used her missing bank statement for, but it was clear from their interest that it had been something serious. Especially as it was a statement from so many years ago. Could a whole life be forged from one bank statement? She didn’t think so – not that her knowledge of identity theft went beyond the basics seen on Crimewatch or being careful when using your credit card on the net. And surely if someone had made a whole life from that one document, she’d know about it by now? They’d have run up some kind of debt that would have shown on her credit record, surely? That was what people did with stolen identities, wasn’t it? She’d bought her new car only last year, and nothing dodgy had come up then. She didn’t know why it was stressing her so much. After all, as far as her own life was concerned, no harm had been done by the missing statement. She was normally a pretty calm and practical person, but something was niggling her. It was as if her brain was itching and the bank statement was somehow part of the cause.

  Alan grunted in his sleep and rolled over, one arm stretching across her vacant pillow. It made her sad somehow. Why didn’t he even twitch when finding the space empty instead of happily claiming it. Why didn’t he miss her? Were they that comfortable with each other now? Would he notice if she was gone for ever, or would his clothes just spread from his wardrobe to hers and suddenly the toilet seat would be always in the upright position? Would anyone miss her once the dust settled?

  The morbid quality of the thought wasn’t like her at all, and she climbed out of bed to try and get away from it. Whatever dream had woken her must have disturbed her and she frowned trying to remember what it was. She’d been in the new deli down at the Bay, that was it. She’d been buying a sandwich, ham and coleslaw, exactly as she had done yesterday lunchtime. The dream had basically been replaying the events from her day. What was so scary about that?

  She didn’t turn the bathroom light on but sat on the loo and emptied her bladder. What had happened, anyway? She retraced her steps in the deli. She’d bought a sandwich and then turned around to try and get out of the narrow space that ran along the counter that served as both an entrance and an exit. The place had only just opened and was full of office workers trying something new in their routine. She’d been lucky to get there when she did; ten minutes later, the queue was almost at the door. With her sandwich and purse both tucked to her chest, she’d smiled awkwardly at the pretty woman in red queuing behind her as they tried to politely manoeuvre around each other without rubbing, which proved a physical impossibility. Eryn wasn’t really paying that much attention – she just wanted to get home and take advantage of a rare afternoon off from school. The teacher training day had finished early, which was something of a miracle, and for once she was going to spend it not marking books, but lying on the sofa and catching up with all the telly she’d recorded that Alan didn’t like watching.

  The unavoidable had happened, and she’d knocked into the slim woman as she squeezed her size fourteen hips through the narrow gap. She’d glanced back to smile an apology at her, but the woman was already giving her order to the overworked young man behind the counter. It was bright in the shop but there’d been an area of darkness on the back of the woman’s dress. Where could that shadow have been coming from? Was it a shadow at all? She’d almost reached out
to touch it, but then, as if feeling the eyes on her back, the woman had turned and given her a tight smile. Eryn had gone on her way after that. The TV was waiting and the cramped quarters of the deli were irritating. She wouldn’t go there again.

  She was reaching for the toilet paper, still confused as to why such a mundane sandwich purchase could have woken her up in such a state of fear, when she gasped again, one hand flying to her mouth. It was the woman. The woman and the bank statement. It was all… it was all making sense. She remembered. Oh god, she remembered. Her eyes widened in the gloom.

  ‘No, you don’t understand.’ She paces around the living room. The house is still her own, but there is no computer console cluttered messily at the base of the TV, and flowers sit in a vase on the window sill and the cushions are pink, not the later pink-and- brown compromise that she will never really like and is pretty sure Alan doesn’t either. Compromise could be funny like that. Ignore things people like and just go for something neither is over-impressed by. They don’t tell you that’s where it’s leading in all the romcoms.

  She stares at the young man with the slightly arrogant walk and London accent. Why is he so calm? ‘They’re not normal children. They have faces behind their faces. I saw it! They’ll hurt the other children!’

  The man touches his ear and then looks at the tall woman standing in the doorway. ‘They’re contained. Jack’s got the two at the school and Tosh got the two in the house.’

  ‘Any sign of the original family?’ The woman – Suzie, she’d said her name was Suzie – asked.

  ‘In the basement. Not very pretty.’

  ‘Are you listening to me at all?’ Eryn asks. Who are these people? They aren’t the police, even though it’s the police she called after what happened the previous evening.