I arrived at the police station just before seven. While I'd slept the rest of the day away, it had continued to snow and was now coming down in thick flurries. The narrow streets of The Ragged Cove were covered with it, as were the fields that stretched out on either side of the country roads I'd taken to get to work. Several times, the back wheels of my car had slipped and skidded and I'd had to be careful not to drive head first into some ditch. So it was with some relief that I arrived at the station without wrecking my second car in less than twenty-four hours.
Hurrying into the station and out of the snow, I found Sergeant Murphy, Potter, and Luke all sitting at their desks behind the front counter. It was as if they were waiting for me. Coming around the front counter, I glanced at Luke and he held my gaze with his brilliant green eyes. The last time I'd seen him, we had been curled up together on my bed in my poky room. I wondered how he felt about that. Luke half-smiled and I looked away. Sometimes I found it hard to look at him, I could sense something between us, but I didn't quite know what. If I were to be honest with myself, I knew that I found his rugged looks attractive, but there was something else - I didn't know what - that told me I should try and keep my distance.
"How are you feeling tonight, constable?" Sergeant Murphy asked, and I noticed straight away that he hadn't called me by my first name like he had before.
"A bit bruised and battered," I said, placing my uniform and utility belt on the desk in front of me.
"Not as battered as the police car you wrecked last night," Potter chipped in, lighting a cigarette.
I looked across at Luke and he was still staring at me. Ignoring Potter's remark, I turned to face Sergeant Murphy and said, "I don't know if Luke has already briefed you, but there was an incident last night up at the graveyard."
Popping his pipe into his mouth, Murphy looked straight at me and said, "I'd like to hear your account of what took place last night."
"It's difficult to explain without sounding -" I started.
"Without sounding like what?" Potter cut in.
"Like I'd lost my mind," I said.
"Tell them what happened," Luke told me. "You're amongst friends here."
Hearing this, I glanced at Potter and wasn't so sure. Turning away from him, I looked at my sergeant and explained how I'd carried out an examination of the open grave.
"When I was down in the hole, I lifted up a piece of the coffin lid to find scratch marks on the underside of it," I told him.
"So?" Potter said, putting out his cigarette and immediately lighting another.
"So," I continued, "it suggested to me only one explanation - and I know this sounds far-fetched - but the girl Kristy Hall must have been buried alive."
"Buried alive!" Potter scoffed, squirting streams of blue smoke through his nostrils.
Raising his hand as if to silence Potter, Murphy said, "Lets' hear Constable Hudson out before we comment." Then looking at me, he nodded, as if telling me to carry on.
"I also found claw marks on the inside of the grave, again supporting the theory that someone had climbed out rather than in," I told them. "I tried to call Luke on my radio, but it seemed that he either didn't receive my transmission or there wasn't any signal. I climbed out of the grave to find Kristy Hall standing there."
"Oh this is just such a lot of old bollocks," Potter cut in again.
"Be quiet, Sean!" Murphy snapped, and he sounded as if he were getting angry. "Carry on, constable."
"She looked pale, as if she were sick," I said. "Not only that, she was covered in earth and mud. She kept asking for her mother. I asked her if I could help her, but she kept saying that she was hungry." I stopped and again I looked at Luke, who was staring at me, his eyes keen and sharp looking. I couldn't tell if he believed me or not. I wanted to go on with my story, but it was so bizarre that I felt I risked my professional reputation before I'd even fully started on my career.
"Go on," Murphy said, sounding impatient.
Swallowing hard, I said, "Then she started to change."
"Change?" Potter laughed. "What's that supposed to mean?'"
"I won't tell you again, Potter," Murphy hissed. "Put a sock in it, or get out."
Lighting another cigarette, Potter folded his arms across his chest and grinned at me.
Trying to ignore him, I carried on. "The girl began to wail as if in pain. Then I heard this awful sound - like flesh ripping. Her teeth looked as if they had grown." Then closing my eyes, so I didn't have to look at any of them, I added, "The girl had fangs."
I heard a snigger come from the corner of the room and I didn't have to open my eyes to know that it was Potter who was laughing at me.
"What happened next?" Sergeant Murphy asked.
"I ran for my life, Sarge," I said, opening my eyes and staring straight into his. "I didn't know what else to do. I kept calling for Luke over the radio, asking for help, but again I don't think my messages were getting through. I managed to get to the police car, but the creature - or whatever it was - came after me. It smashed the windscreen with its face. I drove the car forward and the thing crashed into the graveyard wall. I drove the car at her, but..." I paused.
"But what?" Murphy persisted.
"She escaped," I said, as Potter stifled another fit of the giggles. "She leapt away at an incredible speed. I managed to turn the car as I tried to escape. I was injured and my nose was bleeding. As I drove away from the church, the vampire-thing attacked again. She was so fast and strong. She punched her fists through the bonnet as if it were made out of paper."
"If she were so strong and powerful, how did you manage to survive?" Potter smirked.
"I had a crucifix on me, and as she tried to bite me, I stuck it into her mouth. It was almost as if she had swallowed poison. She started to convulse on the bonnet of the car. Her mouth started to foam up and it ate through the car's paintwork like acid. Then before I knew what was happening, she exploded into a pile of ash and dust. Realising that the threat was over, I started to lose consciousness, and before I blacked out, I saw Luke, peering in at me through the broken car window," I finished.
"And?" Sergeant Murphy asked me.
"That's all, Sarge." Then glancing quickly at Luke, I added, "The next thing I was aware of was waking in my room this morning."
Without saying a word, Sergeant Murphy sucked on the end of his pipe, not taking his eyes off me. After what seemed like an eternity, Murphy said, "So that is your statement, Constable Hudson?"
"Yes Sergeant," I said, knowing that I had only told him what I believed to be the truth. "You don't wish to change anything?" he asked. "No, Sergeant." Standing up, again he was wearing jeans and slippers, he came towards me, his right pelvis sloping to the right as if in need of a hip replacement. ''I'd heard good things about you, Hudson," he said, and he sounded almost sad. "Excellent things in fact. I was led to believe that you were the most gifted recruit at training school. That's why you were recommended for this difficult posting. I thought you would be an asset to this station - that you would be able to assist us in tracking down those responsible for the killings in The Ragged Cove."
"But that's -"I started, but he spoke over me. "Instead, I've been sent nothing more than an immature fantasist - a know-it-all," he barked. "But -" "In less than twenty-four hours, you've clambered over two crime scenes, destroyed evidence, recklessly destroyed police property - namely one of our only two police vehicles - and have now brought into question your own honesty and integrity by coming up with a pack of lies to excuse your unruly behaviour," he said.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I'd done nothing wrong. Every word of my statement had been true. Not prepared to stand by and have my integrity questioned, I spoke up and said, "Have you actually been up to the grave and examined it yourself?" I asked him.
"No, I sent our forensically-trained officer up there today to carry out a proper examination," Murphy said, and looked at Potter.
"What, him?" I asked, and now it was my turn to scoff. "Yes me!" Potter said. "Got a problem with that, Columbo?" "Well, if you'd examined it properly, you would've seen what I had," I said. "Sure - I found the coffin lid - what was left of it after you'd trampled all over it," he snipped. "And the scratch marks?" I asked. "There were scratch marks, but they'd been made by animals - foxes, rats, badgers - after the girl's body had been removed," he said.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Are you being serious?" I said. "What about footprints?"
"Well to be honest, after you had stomped all over it in your boots, it was hard to see anything. But after a careful and thorough examination, the only footprints I could find were yours and Luke's. So if this vampire-girl had chased you across the graveyard, I found no footprints - only yours," he smiled at me.
"What about the damage to the car?" I asked him.
"What about it?"
"The broken windscreen?"
"By the state of your face tonight, it looks like you're the one who smashed through it," he said. "As for the scratches across the bonnet and sides of the car, it is my opinion that they were caused by your reckless driving as you scraped against the stone walls up at the church and the branches and thorns from the overgrown hedgerows."
"What about the acid burns?" I asked.
"You've already admitted to driving the car straight into the wall up at the graveyard, and in doing so, you crushed the battery which ruptured and sprayed the bonnet with battery acid," he smiled.
"I don't believe this," I groaned.
"No, we don't believe you," Sergeant Murphy said.
Turning to Luke I said, "You were up there. You must have seen something?"
Looking at me, his eyes almost grey, Luke slowly shook his head and said, "I'm sorry Kiera, but all I saw was you driving away at a high speed from the church and crashing the car."
"So you didn't see the girl?" I asked, almost pleading with him.
"Sorry Kiera, I didn't see any girl," he said. "As soon as I saw you racing away in the police car, I came running after you."
I glanced down at his trousers and knew that he was lying. Knowing that whatever I said wouldn't be believed, I looked at Sergeant Murphy. "So what happens now?"
"You go back to headquarters," he said. "I don't have room for a liar in my station."
"But..." I began.
"Don't worry about your precious record, I'll tell them that you were homesick - the climate down here didn't agree with you. I won't drop you in the shit. I'm not that kind of bloke."
Hearing this made my blood boil, and I could feel tears standing in my eyes. They had no right to treat me like this. Clenching my fists by my side, I took a deep breath and then let loose. "You make me laugh. You couldn't solve a game of Cluedo, let alone a series of brutal killings," I seethed. "For the last few years, you've had people go missing, graves desecrated, over twenty brutal murders, a string of police officers have disappeared off the face of the Earth, and you have the nerve to stand there and tell me I'm no good at my job!"
"Hang on a minute!" Potter said coming forward.
"Let her say her piece," Murphy said. "Because when she's finished, she's out of here."
"You accuse me of destroying crime scenes, when you let that cretin stand and smoke over the mutilated body of an eight-year-old child. And as for you," I said, looking Murphy up and down, "you're the most unprofessional sergeant I've ever come across. You're meant to be representing the police service and you lounge around the office in jeans and slippers, with a pipe hanging from your mouth. And as for calling Force Headquarters - go on - I dare you. Or perhaps you haven't noticed that none of the telephones work in this godforsaken place. Nothing works! The shops hardly ever open, the streets are pretty much deserted and you can only speak with a police officer at night. Now I don't know about you - but this place seems fucked-up!"
"What's the point in being on duty during the day - when most of the crime in this town happens at night?" Potter cut in. "That's just good police work."
"Good police work!" I laughed at him. "I haven't actually seen you do any police work since I arrived. If your idea of good police work is smoking yourself to death in this office, then you're very good at it."
Then pausing to draw breath, someone cut in and said, "Have you finished constable?"
Spinning around to see who had spoken, I was shocked to find a tall, lean-looking man standing in the corner by the passageway that led to the cells. He hadn't come in via the front entrance and I knew from the tour Luke had given me the night before that there was no other way into the station.
The man was about six-foot-four, with steely-white hair that was combed back off his narrow forehead. He looked as if he were in his late fifties but was in good shape. I could tell by his tanned and dry looking skin he had recently come back from his holidays, which had been spent in a hot climate. He had strong, muscular hands. His thumbs were looped through his belt loops. He wore a police uniform, and by the three silver pips on each shoulder, I knew that he was a chief inspector.
"I said, have you finished constable?" he asked me again, and his bright blue eyes bored straight into mine.
"Yes, Sir," I said.
"Then let me introduce myself. I am Chief Inspector Rom. And this station and its officers are under my charge," he said in a low, grim-sounding voice. "If you feel that you have a complaint on how my officers perform then feel free to raise your concerns with me." Then coming forward, his eyes never leaving mine, he stood before me and whispered, "But one thing I do know, is that I don't need some snotty-nosed recruit coming into my kingdom and telling me how to run things. Do you understand?"
Looking up at him, I said, "Yes sir, I understand."
"Now if you would be so kind as to gather up your uniform, leave this station and don't ever come back," he said. "Tomorrow morning you are to travel back to force headquarters where you will be assigned a new posting. And believe me when I tell you that the report I will be sending about you, won't be as charitable as Sergeant Murphy's. Now get out of my sight."
Feeling as if I'd been kicked in the guts, I picked up my jacket and made my way around the front desk and left the station. As I went, I couldn't help but notice they were all staring at me, Luke included. Stepping out into the cold, flakes of snow stung my face and covered my hair and shoulders. Climbing into my car and slamming the door shut, the tears that I'd been fighting back in the office, now ran down my cheeks in warm streams. Jumping, I looked up as someone appeared at the window. Luke stood beside my car, his black hair now looking white with snow. He knocked on the glass.
"Kiera!" he shouted.
Wiping away my tears with the back of my hand - I didn't want him to see me crying - I opened the window an inch and said through the gap, "What do you want?"
"What are you going to do?" he asked.
"I'm going home," I told him.
"I'll come up to the Inn and see you before you go," he said.
"Don't bother. I won't be there."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm going home now," I told him. Then looking through the gap in the window at him, I said, "You know what Luke? I thought we were friends. I thought we had a connection. I mean, you stayed with me last night."
"I am your friend," he said, brushing snow out of his eyes so he could see me.
"It didn't seem like that in there!" I snapped.
"What could I say?" he said.
"You could've told the truth."
"I did!"
"You're a liar, Luke Bishop," I said, looking straight into his green eyes. Then winding up the window, I said, "Goodbye."
Without looking back at him standing in the oncoming blizzard, I pressed my foot down hard on the accelerator and headed out of The Ragged Cove.