The Way of Things, Chapter 2
Title - The Way of Things, (2/45)
Author - jlrpuck
Rating - K+
Pairing -- Peter Carlisle/Rose Tyler
Spoilers - For both Blackpool and S2 of Doctor Who.
Disclaimer - Characters from Blackpool or Doctor Who are the property of the BBC, and are used with the greatest of love and respect; no profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story. Summary - A post-Doomsday story, set in the Alt!Verse. It's been over three years since Rose and the Doctor said goodbye. What happens when she not only meets his doppleganger, but has to work with him?
Author’s Notes - Posting a day earlier than planned; it's a slow day at work, and I'm eager to get more of this story up online. A large part of that is due to the incredibly kind comments you all shared--"flattered" doesn't even begin to cover how I feel--while a very small part of that is an attempt to kick my pen into gear so I can finish out the final chapters of writing I still have hanging over my head.
My betas, earlgreytea68 and arctacuda, are absolutely fantastic, and I simply can't thank them enough for the time they have spent reviewing this story. rosa_acicularis, as well, has served as an excellent sounding board; her fresh eyes provided the final sanity check before I started posting. I'd also be remiss if I didn't thank misssara11 for encouraging me to start writing in the first place, and for reading over my early efforts at this story.
PS--I plan to post on Mondays and Thursdays.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36 | Chapter 37 | Chapter 38 | Chapter 39 | Chapter 40 | Chapter 41 | Chapter 42 | Chapter 43 | Chapter 44 | Epilogue
Rose woke with a start. Blinking, she took a moment to process that she was in the back of a van-moving, apparently, at a high rate of speed down a bumpy road-and not in the TARDIS, as she had dreamed. In the three years since the Doctor had said his final goodbye to her at Bad Wolf Bay, her dreams about that life were getting less frequent. She missed the Doctor, missed travelling with him; but she had accepted that this was her life now and she needed to live it and not linger in the past. Shortly before that day in Norway, she had taken a job with Torchwood as a way to pass the time; following that day in Norway, she had made working at Torchwood her vocation. She had discovered that not only was she good at her job--due to both having experience no one else on earth did and her native intelligence--but that she enjoyed her job, earthbound or not. This-Universe-bound or not. She had started in the lowest rungs of Torchwood, wanting to learn her job before working her way up; and in the past three years she had worked her way up from field trainee to field team leader. As one of four field teams in Torchwood, Rose and her team were responsible for investigating reports of alien activity anywhere in the UK, as well as other things outside of that scope but of vital national security. It was the ‘other duties as assigned’ part of the job that had Rose and her team on the road to Cumbria as the sun rose.
Stretching, she caught Mickey’s eye. He smiled, and answered her unasked question. “We’re about a half-hour out; assuming the maps are right and livestock don’t block the road.”
Rose laughed. Mickey was a city snob of the worst kind, convinced that any place outside of London was a dirty backwater with no civilization and more sheep than people.
She looked out the window as the sky brightened. Small cottages flew by-just how fast was Jake driving? She’d have to take a peek-surrounded by low stone walls and lush green fields. She knew from her earlier glance at the map that they were going north of Lancaster, but as she’d never been to this part of the country she had no idea what to expect.
Turning from the window she looked back at Mickey, busy poking at the laptop. “Any news come in
during the ride?” Rose asked. “The connection got a bit wonky there-it’s just reconnecting,” Mickey replied with an easy smile.
Rose settled back into her seat and began to formulate a plan. Chances were the plan would fall apart-an experience she had had with the Doctor which still held in her new universe-but it never hurt to have one. Dealing with the local police force always made for interesting times; in her experience, both Torchwood and the force would think they had jurisdiction over the case, and they would both be right. Ideally, she’d be able to have one of her team partner up with a local representative to try to ease any hard feelings; but with James gone that might not be an option. She’d just have to wing it.
Sighing, Rose thought about what resources she did have. Rose referred to Jake and Mickey as her men of action-if they had to chase something, or interrogate it, they were her guys. Jake was good with weapons, as well, while Mickey had shown a natural talent for deductive reasoning. Jake and Mickey both had experience with computers and technology; in James’ absence, she’d have to pick one of them to be in charge of working on whatever equipment was in the lab or McGreevy’s house. While James was her go-to electronics whiz-a fact she took frequent advantage of--his strength had always been in talking with the locals; he had a natural charm that made just about anybody open up to him, which was why she had always relied on him to work with the local force. Rose knew she lacked the patience to do it herself; besides, she would be working on coordinating the work of her team, as well as doing some investigating herself.
Rose drummed her fingers against the seat as she weighed which man to pair with the police, loathe to assign either Mickey or Jake to a task that oftentimes required not only tact, but the patience of Job. Rose finally decided Mickey would be the better choice due to his ability to rapidly piece together disparate pieces of a picture; she’d have to tack it on to his usual responsibilities, knowing that Mickey would hate her for it. That left Jake as the one responsible for going over McGreevy’s equipment. The perks of being leader, Rose thought to herself ruefully. “Right, here’s how we’re going to do this….” Rose explained to the team as the last few miles flew under the van.
As they entered the outskirts of Kendal, Mickey spoke up. “Rose, I’ve got the info on McGreevy.” He hit a few keys before beginning to skim-read what appeared on the screen in front of her. “Michael McGreevy…lead consulting technical scientist, specializing in found items. Used to work out of Torchwood Two; moved down from Glasgow after Two was closed to focus on ‘general research.’”
Mickey paused and looked up. “What kind of rubbish term is that, ‘general research’?”
He looked back down and continued. “It looks like he was somehow involved in the bit of nastiness that shut Two down…says here he wanted out of Torchwood altogether. He’s brilliant enough that Management made some major concessions to keep him on board, including building him the lab facilities in return for his continued employment with the organization. The arrangement seems to have worked, with special procedures established for getting artefacts and data to and from his location.”
“Any personal information we need to be aware of?” Rose asked
“Parents dead, no siblings, just the fiancée. He was working on a doctorate in molecular chemistry when he wasn’t working for us. Owns a small cottage, a Skoda, and…that’s about it.” Mickey looked up from his computer.
“Not much to go on.” Rose sighed. Silence reigned in the van as they passed through the grey stone town.
A few minutes later, the van slowed and turned into a business park. “Looks like we’re here,” Jake said as the van approached several police cars. He pulled off to the side of the road, placing the van in neutral and engaging the hand brake as two constables began walking towards the vehicle.
“Indeed. Everyone, remember to play nice with your cousins.” Rose straightened her clothes, opened the van door, and stepped out to go greet the police.
~ - ~
DI Carlisle arrived at the station mid-morning to find chaos had broken out. Coffee in hand, he stuffed the last bit of pastry into his mouth before wading into the bustle and noise to find out what was going on.
“Georgie,” he hailed the first constable he found as he made his way across the large, desk-filled station room. “What’s all this?” Peter used his coffee cup to indicate the buzz of activity.
“Summat to do w’ th’ investigation, sir.”
Peter grunted in return and moved on to his desk, which seemed to be the centre of the maelstrom still swirling around the room. Biting the lip of his coffee cup between his teeth so he could shuck his overcoat, he nearly dropped the precious container of liquid when he was startled by the voice of the Detective Chief Inspector. He turned towards the voice, grabbing the cup from his mouth and pursing his lips impatiently.
“Carlisle, good to see you this morning!” DCI Williams boomed, ignoring--as he usually did--the look his greeting earned from Peter.
If the unusual level of chaos in the station hadn’t already indicated that something was afoot, Williams’s forced cheer would have. The relationship between the two men was highly strained due largely to the fact that it had been Williams who, as Peter’s supervising officer at the time, had had to deal with the fallout from the Blackpool case. Enough information about the Blackpool investigation had made it back through various channels to raise the suspicions of the senior officers in the constabulary; Williams had been responsible for placating his superiors whilst trying to determine exactly what Peter had done, and whether it meant he could finally be shot of the troublesome Detective Inspector. Detective Constable Blythe, Peter’s partner on the Blackpool case, had remained surprisingly silent on what had happened during the investigation; with no evidence to substantiate the rumours, Williams was left with no choice but to retain Peter. Peter was still working to rebuild the professional trust of both his superiors and colleagues, not that he personally cared much about their opinions of him. It helped that he worked nights, giving him less interaction with his station-mates than he would otherwise be subjected to-an unusual shift for someone with his tenure, but not surprising given the Blackpool fallout.
Thanks to this shared history, Williams rarely spoke with or to Peter. If he did, it was out of need and with contempt; thus the friendly voice was an immediate warning to Peter that he was about to be ordered to do something he wouldn’t like, and that he’d have no choice in the matter.
Peter took a slow sip of his coffee and swallowed before replying warily. “Aye, sir.” This non-answer was enough encouragement for the Chief to put his arm around his shoulder and guide him through the aisles towards Williams’ office. As the senior officer mithered on about absolutely nothing, Peter took a quick look around to see if there was any information to be gleaned that would help him before his orders came down. He noted the large number of pitying looks--a definite change from the usual sneers he received--and even an apologetic glance from one of the Detective Constables who had just come in from the foyer. Definitely bad, then, but he had no idea why.
As they reached Williams’s office, Peter was rapidly trying to narrow down the list of who he had alienated that week, but that still didn’t explain why the man was pretending to be so nice.
“Carlisle?” Ah, that was the tone he was used to from Williams: disparaging impatience. Peter returned his focus with a leery, “Aye, sir?”
“That investigation this morning-any news on it?”
Ah, so it was tied to that. Peter paused to take a thoughtful sip of coffee, grimacing when he realized it had gone cold. The facts of the young case being fully organized in his mind, he began. “It’s a private laboratory, sir. Belongs to one Michael McGreevy, 42 years of age, going for an advanced degree in some obscure branch of chemistry. Haven’t word back yet on who employs him in that nice lab, but I expect the lads already have the information waiting for me out there.” Peter pointed out to the station room. “Reported missing late last night, after his future wife couldn’t find him; she found the lab turned over instead, along with a lovely smear of blood on his desk. No signs of forced entry, although I’ve not yet talked to Ian this morning.”
As he paused to see where the Detective Superintendent would go with the information he had provided, Peter continued to mentally run through everything he had seen and learned before sunrise that day. There hadn’t seemed to be anything remarkable-at least, not remarkable enough to generate the kind of buzz that filled the room outside the office door. He had enough faith in his skills as a detective to be sure he hadn’t overlooked anything of import in the facts as he knew them. The catch was that he knew he had only the most rudimentary of information this early in the investigation, not least because he’d been waylaid before he’d had a chance to get updated on any developments since he had left the scene.
“Anything else?” Williams asked, eyeing Peter suspiciously.
He paused before answering carefully. “No, sir. That’s all the information I had when I left the scene this morning.”
Williams looked sceptical. “You wouldn’t know why a lorry full of people from London arrived at the scene of your newest investigation a half hour ago, showing credentials from a branch of the Home Office no one has ever heard of and claiming jurisdiction?”
Peter was stunned, briefly, into silence. What would the Home Office want with a bog-standard missing person investigation, and so soon? He’d only taken it because he was bored and his DC was still relatively new. He rubbed the back of his neck before answering. “No, sir. There seemed to be nothing unusual-ignoring that the laboratory was a disaster and the man’s gone missing. Nothing in the initial look that would indicate a need for the Home Office to get involved, certainly.” Peter tapered off as his mind started to sift information and process reasons for the government’s involvement. Nothing in the lab indicated that it was anything other than your basic chemical laboratory; it must be down to something the missing man was working on. He had to talk to his partner, whom he had left in charge of the scene, and Ian to find out what had turned up in his absence. Damn the shower and the nap that had taken his time.
“Sir, I need to get with DC Penington and Ian’s boys to see what they’ve turned up.” Peter glanced at Williams briefly before turning for the door.
“Detective Inspector.” The chill in Williams’ voice, more than the use of his rank, caused Peter to pause. “I don’t know who this group is, but as they’re all sniffing over your scene right now I think you’d best be going back to that missing man’s laboratory.” His back still to Williams, Peter half-turned his head to look at the man behind the desk. “Remember that this is our investigation until proven or confirmed otherwise.”
Sensing his dismissal, and urgently needing to get both information and back to the scene, Peter hurried out the door.
~ - ~
Chapter Three
Author - jlrpuck
Rating - K+
Pairing -- Peter Carlisle/Rose Tyler
Spoilers - For both Blackpool and S2 of Doctor Who.
Disclaimer - Characters from Blackpool or Doctor Who are the property of the BBC, and are used with the greatest of love and respect; no profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story. Summary - A post-Doomsday story, set in the Alt!Verse. It's been over three years since Rose and the Doctor said goodbye. What happens when she not only meets his doppleganger, but has to work with him?
Author’s Notes - Posting a day earlier than planned; it's a slow day at work, and I'm eager to get more of this story up online. A large part of that is due to the incredibly kind comments you all shared--"flattered" doesn't even begin to cover how I feel--while a very small part of that is an attempt to kick my pen into gear so I can finish out the final chapters of writing I still have hanging over my head.
My betas, earlgreytea68 and arctacuda, are absolutely fantastic, and I simply can't thank them enough for the time they have spent reviewing this story. rosa_acicularis, as well, has served as an excellent sounding board; her fresh eyes provided the final sanity check before I started posting. I'd also be remiss if I didn't thank misssara11 for encouraging me to start writing in the first place, and for reading over my early efforts at this story.
PS--I plan to post on Mondays and Thursdays.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36 | Chapter 37 | Chapter 38 | Chapter 39 | Chapter 40 | Chapter 41 | Chapter 42 | Chapter 43 | Chapter 44 | Epilogue
Rose woke with a start. Blinking, she took a moment to process that she was in the back of a van-moving, apparently, at a high rate of speed down a bumpy road-and not in the TARDIS, as she had dreamed. In the three years since the Doctor had said his final goodbye to her at Bad Wolf Bay, her dreams about that life were getting less frequent. She missed the Doctor, missed travelling with him; but she had accepted that this was her life now and she needed to live it and not linger in the past. Shortly before that day in Norway, she had taken a job with Torchwood as a way to pass the time; following that day in Norway, she had made working at Torchwood her vocation. She had discovered that not only was she good at her job--due to both having experience no one else on earth did and her native intelligence--but that she enjoyed her job, earthbound or not. This-Universe-bound or not. She had started in the lowest rungs of Torchwood, wanting to learn her job before working her way up; and in the past three years she had worked her way up from field trainee to field team leader. As one of four field teams in Torchwood, Rose and her team were responsible for investigating reports of alien activity anywhere in the UK, as well as other things outside of that scope but of vital national security. It was the ‘other duties as assigned’ part of the job that had Rose and her team on the road to Cumbria as the sun rose.
Stretching, she caught Mickey’s eye. He smiled, and answered her unasked question. “We’re about a half-hour out; assuming the maps are right and livestock don’t block the road.”
Rose laughed. Mickey was a city snob of the worst kind, convinced that any place outside of London was a dirty backwater with no civilization and more sheep than people.
She looked out the window as the sky brightened. Small cottages flew by-just how fast was Jake driving? She’d have to take a peek-surrounded by low stone walls and lush green fields. She knew from her earlier glance at the map that they were going north of Lancaster, but as she’d never been to this part of the country she had no idea what to expect.
Turning from the window she looked back at Mickey, busy poking at the laptop. “Any news come in
during the ride?” Rose asked. “The connection got a bit wonky there-it’s just reconnecting,” Mickey replied with an easy smile.
Rose settled back into her seat and began to formulate a plan. Chances were the plan would fall apart-an experience she had had with the Doctor which still held in her new universe-but it never hurt to have one. Dealing with the local police force always made for interesting times; in her experience, both Torchwood and the force would think they had jurisdiction over the case, and they would both be right. Ideally, she’d be able to have one of her team partner up with a local representative to try to ease any hard feelings; but with James gone that might not be an option. She’d just have to wing it.
Sighing, Rose thought about what resources she did have. Rose referred to Jake and Mickey as her men of action-if they had to chase something, or interrogate it, they were her guys. Jake was good with weapons, as well, while Mickey had shown a natural talent for deductive reasoning. Jake and Mickey both had experience with computers and technology; in James’ absence, she’d have to pick one of them to be in charge of working on whatever equipment was in the lab or McGreevy’s house. While James was her go-to electronics whiz-a fact she took frequent advantage of--his strength had always been in talking with the locals; he had a natural charm that made just about anybody open up to him, which was why she had always relied on him to work with the local force. Rose knew she lacked the patience to do it herself; besides, she would be working on coordinating the work of her team, as well as doing some investigating herself.
Rose drummed her fingers against the seat as she weighed which man to pair with the police, loathe to assign either Mickey or Jake to a task that oftentimes required not only tact, but the patience of Job. Rose finally decided Mickey would be the better choice due to his ability to rapidly piece together disparate pieces of a picture; she’d have to tack it on to his usual responsibilities, knowing that Mickey would hate her for it. That left Jake as the one responsible for going over McGreevy’s equipment. The perks of being leader, Rose thought to herself ruefully. “Right, here’s how we’re going to do this….” Rose explained to the team as the last few miles flew under the van.
As they entered the outskirts of Kendal, Mickey spoke up. “Rose, I’ve got the info on McGreevy.” He hit a few keys before beginning to skim-read what appeared on the screen in front of her. “Michael McGreevy…lead consulting technical scientist, specializing in found items. Used to work out of Torchwood Two; moved down from Glasgow after Two was closed to focus on ‘general research.’”
Mickey paused and looked up. “What kind of rubbish term is that, ‘general research’?”
He looked back down and continued. “It looks like he was somehow involved in the bit of nastiness that shut Two down…says here he wanted out of Torchwood altogether. He’s brilliant enough that Management made some major concessions to keep him on board, including building him the lab facilities in return for his continued employment with the organization. The arrangement seems to have worked, with special procedures established for getting artefacts and data to and from his location.”
“Any personal information we need to be aware of?” Rose asked
“Parents dead, no siblings, just the fiancée. He was working on a doctorate in molecular chemistry when he wasn’t working for us. Owns a small cottage, a Skoda, and…that’s about it.” Mickey looked up from his computer.
“Not much to go on.” Rose sighed. Silence reigned in the van as they passed through the grey stone town.
A few minutes later, the van slowed and turned into a business park. “Looks like we’re here,” Jake said as the van approached several police cars. He pulled off to the side of the road, placing the van in neutral and engaging the hand brake as two constables began walking towards the vehicle.
“Indeed. Everyone, remember to play nice with your cousins.” Rose straightened her clothes, opened the van door, and stepped out to go greet the police.
~ - ~
DI Carlisle arrived at the station mid-morning to find chaos had broken out. Coffee in hand, he stuffed the last bit of pastry into his mouth before wading into the bustle and noise to find out what was going on.
“Georgie,” he hailed the first constable he found as he made his way across the large, desk-filled station room. “What’s all this?” Peter used his coffee cup to indicate the buzz of activity.
“Summat to do w’ th’ investigation, sir.”
Peter grunted in return and moved on to his desk, which seemed to be the centre of the maelstrom still swirling around the room. Biting the lip of his coffee cup between his teeth so he could shuck his overcoat, he nearly dropped the precious container of liquid when he was startled by the voice of the Detective Chief Inspector. He turned towards the voice, grabbing the cup from his mouth and pursing his lips impatiently.
“Carlisle, good to see you this morning!” DCI Williams boomed, ignoring--as he usually did--the look his greeting earned from Peter.
If the unusual level of chaos in the station hadn’t already indicated that something was afoot, Williams’s forced cheer would have. The relationship between the two men was highly strained due largely to the fact that it had been Williams who, as Peter’s supervising officer at the time, had had to deal with the fallout from the Blackpool case. Enough information about the Blackpool investigation had made it back through various channels to raise the suspicions of the senior officers in the constabulary; Williams had been responsible for placating his superiors whilst trying to determine exactly what Peter had done, and whether it meant he could finally be shot of the troublesome Detective Inspector. Detective Constable Blythe, Peter’s partner on the Blackpool case, had remained surprisingly silent on what had happened during the investigation; with no evidence to substantiate the rumours, Williams was left with no choice but to retain Peter. Peter was still working to rebuild the professional trust of both his superiors and colleagues, not that he personally cared much about their opinions of him. It helped that he worked nights, giving him less interaction with his station-mates than he would otherwise be subjected to-an unusual shift for someone with his tenure, but not surprising given the Blackpool fallout.
Thanks to this shared history, Williams rarely spoke with or to Peter. If he did, it was out of need and with contempt; thus the friendly voice was an immediate warning to Peter that he was about to be ordered to do something he wouldn’t like, and that he’d have no choice in the matter.
Peter took a slow sip of his coffee and swallowed before replying warily. “Aye, sir.” This non-answer was enough encouragement for the Chief to put his arm around his shoulder and guide him through the aisles towards Williams’ office. As the senior officer mithered on about absolutely nothing, Peter took a quick look around to see if there was any information to be gleaned that would help him before his orders came down. He noted the large number of pitying looks--a definite change from the usual sneers he received--and even an apologetic glance from one of the Detective Constables who had just come in from the foyer. Definitely bad, then, but he had no idea why.
As they reached Williams’s office, Peter was rapidly trying to narrow down the list of who he had alienated that week, but that still didn’t explain why the man was pretending to be so nice.
“Carlisle?” Ah, that was the tone he was used to from Williams: disparaging impatience. Peter returned his focus with a leery, “Aye, sir?”
“That investigation this morning-any news on it?”
Ah, so it was tied to that. Peter paused to take a thoughtful sip of coffee, grimacing when he realized it had gone cold. The facts of the young case being fully organized in his mind, he began. “It’s a private laboratory, sir. Belongs to one Michael McGreevy, 42 years of age, going for an advanced degree in some obscure branch of chemistry. Haven’t word back yet on who employs him in that nice lab, but I expect the lads already have the information waiting for me out there.” Peter pointed out to the station room. “Reported missing late last night, after his future wife couldn’t find him; she found the lab turned over instead, along with a lovely smear of blood on his desk. No signs of forced entry, although I’ve not yet talked to Ian this morning.”
As he paused to see where the Detective Superintendent would go with the information he had provided, Peter continued to mentally run through everything he had seen and learned before sunrise that day. There hadn’t seemed to be anything remarkable-at least, not remarkable enough to generate the kind of buzz that filled the room outside the office door. He had enough faith in his skills as a detective to be sure he hadn’t overlooked anything of import in the facts as he knew them. The catch was that he knew he had only the most rudimentary of information this early in the investigation, not least because he’d been waylaid before he’d had a chance to get updated on any developments since he had left the scene.
“Anything else?” Williams asked, eyeing Peter suspiciously.
He paused before answering carefully. “No, sir. That’s all the information I had when I left the scene this morning.”
Williams looked sceptical. “You wouldn’t know why a lorry full of people from London arrived at the scene of your newest investigation a half hour ago, showing credentials from a branch of the Home Office no one has ever heard of and claiming jurisdiction?”
Peter was stunned, briefly, into silence. What would the Home Office want with a bog-standard missing person investigation, and so soon? He’d only taken it because he was bored and his DC was still relatively new. He rubbed the back of his neck before answering. “No, sir. There seemed to be nothing unusual-ignoring that the laboratory was a disaster and the man’s gone missing. Nothing in the initial look that would indicate a need for the Home Office to get involved, certainly.” Peter tapered off as his mind started to sift information and process reasons for the government’s involvement. Nothing in the lab indicated that it was anything other than your basic chemical laboratory; it must be down to something the missing man was working on. He had to talk to his partner, whom he had left in charge of the scene, and Ian to find out what had turned up in his absence. Damn the shower and the nap that had taken his time.
“Sir, I need to get with DC Penington and Ian’s boys to see what they’ve turned up.” Peter glanced at Williams briefly before turning for the door.
“Detective Inspector.” The chill in Williams’ voice, more than the use of his rank, caused Peter to pause. “I don’t know who this group is, but as they’re all sniffing over your scene right now I think you’d best be going back to that missing man’s laboratory.” His back still to Williams, Peter half-turned his head to look at the man behind the desk. “Remember that this is our investigation until proven or confirmed otherwise.”
Sensing his dismissal, and urgently needing to get both information and back to the scene, Peter hurried out the door.
~ - ~
Chapter Three