"I'll bet. We'll need to talk to her later, get a statement. Now, if you wouldn't mind..."
The headmaster gave a nod of understanding, taking them through the school where lessons were carrying on as normal that afternoon. "We've put him in the quiet room," the headmaster told them. When Beth and Robbins looked puzzled, he explained, "Oh, it's where the children go if they want to read alone or have some time to themselves."
Inside this quiet room, which was much smaller than the other classrooms they'd seen, a little boy with tousled hair was sitting at a desk. He had a toy car in his hands, turning it over and over. The scene was like Robbins' first encounter with the man back at the station, only in miniature. The boy seemed to have the same mannerisms, even had a look of the man they were pursuing. Robbins crouched down beside him. "Hello..." He looked back over his shoulder at the headmaster.
"Jason," prompted the man.
"Hello there, Jason. I'm Chief Inspector Robbins."
The boy looked at him, then continued to study the toy car.
"Do you think you could answer a couple of questions?"
The boy shrugged.
"That's a nice car, who gave it to you?"
Jason shrugged again. Robbins looked over to Beth for help.
The doctor walked to the desk and pulled out a little chair, sitting down opposite. "Hi Jason, my name's Beth. It's very important that we talk to the man who gave you this. Do you know where he went?"
Jason shook his head. "He didn't say, but I'm going to see him again. He told me that."
Robbins gave Beth a worried look.
"Let me through. Where's my son!" A commotion at the door to the 'quiet' room drew their attention and they turned to see a woman with short black hair pushing her way in, past the headmaster.
"Mrs. Hill, you got the call----" he began, but she ran to Jason and hugged him tightly, checking every inch of him over with her eyes. It was only then that she seemed aware of the other people there. "Who are you two? What were you doing with my son?"
"Please calm down, madam," said Robbins.
"No, you calm down. I'll calm down when I find out just what in God's name is going on."
"That might take a bit of explaining," said Beth. "We're not really sure we understand it ourselves."
"I saw Dad today," said Jason before anyone else could speak.
This took the woman aback. "Your Dad? Sweetheart, your Dad's at work. You know that."
"No, he said he was my real dad. What did he mean?"
All the color drained from the woman's face. She brushed a hair out of her son's eyes. "Sweetheart, that's... that's just not possible. Remember, we talked about this before. Your real father... he's not with us anymore."
"But I saw him," Jason insisted.
The woman looked up at Robbins and then Beth, confusion in her eyes.
"I think we need to have a little chat," said Robbins. "Alone."
~
The dead man had watched from a distance. Watched as Robbins and the doctor arrived, accompanied by two uniforms----one of them the black man who'd come for him at the house.
Then he'd seen her arrive on foot. Caroline. Her hair was much shorter than he remembered, but still that raven black, still framing the pretty face he could recall cupping in his hands----so vividly they had to be his memories. He couldn't stop the recollections then; they came with a vengeance and he closed his eyes to savor them. The first time they'd met at that café one Saturday afternoon, and he'd looked up from his drink to see her walk in with one of her old girlfriends. They'd exchanged quick glances the whole way through their coffees----he'd actually made his last much longer than usual----until eventually the friend, Sally, noticed and came over to him because it looked like neither of them were going to do a thing about it.
"So, you single?" she'd said getting to the point right away.
"Er... yes."
"So is she. What are you waiting for? She's free tonight."
The inevitable first date complete with nerves, the 'getting to know you' conversations, the first time he'd walked her to her flat, and kissed her lips.
The first time they'd shared a bed, after a party when they'd drunk more than they should have, but not so much they couldn't do anything about it when they got back to her place.
He could feel the movement of her beneath him even now, her hips arching, legs hooking around him as she often did, urging him on with her moans.
Their wedding day, her standing there in that white dress, looking almost... almost like an angel. And when he'd danced with her and looked into those deep blue eyes, he'd known he would love her forever.
Then suddenly he saw the other images again, felt the pain this time----heard the scream, cracking of bone, the blood... saw the light, saw the tunnel...
Snapping his eyes open he noticed Caroline emerge from the school, holding Jason's hand. He almost went to her then, just as he'd been compelled to do before. But for one thing she was crying, and for another she was getting into the back of the squad car, the police about to escort her home.
It wasn't the right time yet. He knew that.
But soon, as he'd told Jason, he'd see them again.
~
"So where do we go from here?" asked Beth as they stood by the car and watched Valentine drive off.
"My superiors will want to try and contain this," Robbins said, not really answering her question.
"That's going to be a bit difficult." Beth leaned on the top of the car. "For starters, we don't know where he is. We don't really know what he is."
"He's a problem," said Robbins. "They'll bring in... outsiders. I've seen it happen before."
Beth raised an eyebrow. "You've seen this happen before?"
"Not this exactly, but other situations just as serious. I once saw a whole crime squad get muscled out when there was all that terrorism stuff."
"With the best will in the world, Steve, this is not a terrorist threat situation."
"You're right. It's much, much worse. There isn't a handbook about what to do when a dead man comes back and wants to talk to his family."
"So you're accepting the possibility that this could be Matthew Daley now?"
Robbins rubbed his face with his hands. "Oh, I don't know what to think anymore. But I do know we need to find him." He thought for a few moments, then said. "When we get back to the station, I think the best thing you can do is head to the hospital. Do those DNA tests before they bring in a bunch of government scientists I don't know. Get me some answers."
"And what are you going to do?"
"My job," he told her. "I'm the detective, remember?"
Chapter Nine
Caroline Hills poured herself a brandy.
Jason was upstairs in his bedroom, TV blaring. Today hadn't really fazed him at all, but that was kids for you. He spent half his time in a fantasyland anyway. She, however, was still trying to get her head around what she'd been told. It wasn't everyday you found out someone was impersonating your dead husband. Although, hadn't there been something in the Chief Inspector's voice, something in the looks that doctor kept giving him? Like they were holding things back from her. Then she'd pushed for it; pushed for answers which they'd given, eventually. Told her what they knew, told her what had happened over the last couple of days. And it was then that she wished they'd simply kept lying to her. It was then that she felt as if she was losing her mind.
It was like that scene from Dallas when Bobby Ewing had turned up in the shower and the previous season had been a dream. Had her life for the last seven years been a dream too? Had the tears she'd cried for months been just a nightmare, had facing life as a single parent just been a hallucination? Had finding someone else, when she thought she'd never love again, been just----
Jesus, what was she going to say to Rob? What could she say when she didn't even understand herself? The words they'd spoken, she'd thought they were a joke at first----kept expecting them all to start laughing at any moment, f
or a presenter to come out and tell her where the hidden cameras were. In poor taste, but a joke all the same. Yet when she put it together with what Jason had said, that's when it really hit home.
"Why wasn't I told about this before?" she screamed through the tears (though would she have believed it----did she even now?). "I'm still his widow, aren't I?"
But was she? Was she still his widow now that he might be out there somewhere, back from the grave? Caroline gulped the brandy, the fiery liquid scorching her throat, and poured herself another.
She carried it to the window and looked out through the net curtains. The police car was still out front, down the street, in case the man should try to make contact with Jason again. Caroline's hand shook at the very thought of it. If he should come here, if she was to see him...
Forget the fact that he was meant to be at rest----how would she feel seeing someone she never thought she'd see again... at least not here on Earth? But even that, what faith she'd boasted had gone, along with her husband, while his mother had been exactly the opposite: her belief was strengthened by the loss of her boy. While Irene had taken comfort in the fact that Matthew would be with God now, Caroline had railed against a deity that would snatch away the man she loved (still loved?) so casually, so cruelly. She would have rung the woman, save for the fact that they'd parted on such bad terms. And as for the fact that Caroline had remarried...
Now, somehow, there was a chance that the man they'd both loved so much was back. (How? How was that possible?) She dropped into a chair and drank more of the alcohol.
And waited for her husband to return from work.
~
Robbins spread out the files on his desk, running his hands through his short hair.
He looked at the notes DCI Croft had left behind him, all leading to dead ends. There had been an investigation into Matthew's death, of course there had----the media had demanded it----but it had turned up precisely nothing. In fact, reading this, Robbins couldn't help wondering if it was the pressure he'd been under that had led to Croft's retirement and his eventual heart attack, paving the way for Robbins' transfer and promotion.
But there had to be something here. Some clue, some pattern, some explanation as to what this was all about. As to why Matthew Daley was back.
He shook his head, and not for the first time. No, it couldn't be Daley----how could it be Daley?
He let out a tuneless whistle, picking up the photos again. Something Croft had missed and which he must find. Something that would be the key to this whole thing.
Something... something...
Robbins leaned back in his chair and tried not to think about how badly he needed a drink. He reached down and opened the drawer on his right, then took a bottle out.
~
It was growing dark by the time Beth returned to the hospital. There were a few messages waiting for her when she got back, some about the shifts she'd traded to take the day off, some about patients she was keeping tabs on, and one from an anesthetist she'd been out for a drink with the previous week and wouldn't leave her alone. Why she'd done it was beyond her now, the guy was a total sleazebag. But he'd asked, and she'd agreed, then spent the whole damned evening wishing she was somewhere else.
As she made her way down the corridor to her office, she said hello to the doctors and nurses she knew----and the porter, Gary. He was wheeling a patient back to his ward after going for a scan.
The lights were off in her office, so when she opened the door she reached around for the switch inside. Beth flicked it, but nothing happened.
"Blast," she said, considering going back out to look for Gary. Then she felt it. There was someone in the room with her. Beth scanned the dark office, the shapes of her filing cabinet, the desk, even the fish tank she kept on the side----the fish helped her to relax----but she could see nothing out of the ordinary. Yet...
She heard breathing, slow and shallow.
"Hello?" she ventured.
The lights came on suddenly and she jumped.
"Dr. Preston... Beth, you have to help me," said the man she'd examined yesterday. He was standing only inches away.
This wasn't like the first time. Now she knew what he was----or thought she did. Not just some oddball prisoner in a cell, but someone whose grave she'd been standing by that very morning. She tried to speak but couldn't get the words out.
"Please," he said. It was the one word she couldn't resist, and somehow he knew it.
"Matthew."
He clapped his hands together and smiled, albeit briefly. "Thank you, thank you."
"For what?"
"For calling me by my name," he said.
She slid sideways along the wall. "It's who you said you were."
"I still am," he replied. "That's what I keep trying to tell you people. You know, don't you? You've known from the start."
Beth found herself almost in the corner of her room, and remembered how Wilson had been found. She stopped. "How did you get away this morning, what did you say to PC Wilson?"
"Nothing he wasn't meant to hear." His voice poured ice water over her. "Same as you. Sarah is happy, you know. She doesn't blame you."
"Stop it," said Beth, shaking her head. "I don't----"
"It wasn't your fault."
She rounded on him now. "I've heard that from the best counselors around, I don't need to hear it from you!"
"Hear it from someone, hear it from her maybe?"
Beth remembered what Wilson had said about his aunty and uncle. She'd heard enough. "Stop it, stop talking about this right now!"
"I'm sorry," he said.
"How dare you!" Beth's eyes were starting to well up. "How bloody well dare you? You come back here and expect people to just take it in their stride----your mother, you son, your widow----to deal with it like it's something that happens every day of the week. And now we're meant to think you're in touch with..." She couldn't finish her sentence. "I hate to break it to you, but that's not normal. None of this is normal."
"You're upset, I----"
"What do you expect?" She was having trouble staying on her feet now, and he made to help her. "Stay back where you are."
"I should go," he said, half turning.
"No, wait," she replied instinctively. "Let me call Robbins."
"And be locked away again?" He stared at her. "Or worse? I just thought you could help, that's all. I was wrong."
Was it her imagination or was there genuine hurt in his voice? She blinked away another tear, tasting the salt water as it trickled into her mouth. "What is it that you want?"
He hesitated before speaking, then examined a spot on the floor. "I'm seeing things. Things from when I died, I think. But it's all so muddled. I can feel the pain. I can remember bits and pieces and a tunnel of bright light."
She couldn't help laughing at that. "Pretty standard for NDE."
"For what?"
"Near death experience."
He nodded his understanding.
"White light, figures beckoning, then something stops the person from going any further and they come back. Not exactly what happened to you..."
"No," he agreed.
"If you're really who you say you are, then you've been where nobody has before."
"I don't know what to tell you. All of that, all the important stuff is a blank."
"But the fact is you've come back, Matthew. You've come back. The question remains why? And how exactly do we all deal with it?"
"Will you help me to remember?" he asked her.
She chewed on her lip a moment before answering him. "On one condition. You let me take you to Robbins, so he can call off the search."
"I'm not going back to that cell."
"He's not as bad as he seems, you know. And he might be able to help you get to the bottom of this too."
"All right, I believe you," he said finally. "So, where do we begin?"
"Tell me everything you can remember about the night you died," said Beth.
The dead man talked for the better part of an hour.
He told Beth what he could remember of the images, the sights, smells and sounds. She listened intently as she'd learned to do in her particular trade, pushing all thoughts about who or what he was to the back of her mind. For a little while at least he was simply another patient, one she wanted to find out more about. One she wanted to help if she possibly could. The talking was as much for her benefit as his, really. But it would take time for him to remember fully, she told him. Things would come back to him in small chunks, when they were good and ready. It was hardly surprising he'd blotted out so much of what was possibly the most traumatic thing that could ever happen to a person. Visual stimuli might help too, perhaps visiting familiar surroundings from that night. But for right now she wanted to get him back to the station, back to Robbins.
Beth led him out of the office and down the corridor. Past the doctors and nurses she'd seen on the way in----his bare feet drawing odd looks and whispers----past the wards of people in bed. The man she called Matthew glanced at them, with a certain amount of sadness. Especially at the ones with eyes closed, heads back on the pillow as if they had already given up the fight.
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