Ring Around the Rosie, Chapter 10/?
Title: Ring Around the Rosie
Author: onabearskinrug
Character/Pairing: Ten/Rose with Jack, Mickey, Jake, Pete, Jackie, and others
Rating: Teen this chapter
Summary: The Doctor and Jack are stranded in London when the TARDIS malfunctions and, based on the Doctor's alien gifts, open a psychic detective agency. When an old serial killer comes out to play, it's up to our heroes and DI Rose Tyler to play his deadly game before any more lives are lost.
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or the amazingly brilliant Psych.
A/N: I've been watching too much Psych lately, and this little bunny popped into my head. Mega thanks to the gorgeous and amazing timelord1, kelkat9, and who_in_whoville for encouraging me to wander a bit out of my comfort zone, and ultra-mega thanks to who_in_whoville for coming up with the awesome title! Oh, and fannishliss for inspiring the awesome puzzle ring angle and helping me with all my metalworking issues! Also, huge chunks of this chapter pretty much belond to timelord1 and kelkat9 even though they'd never admit it. So THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU, ladies!
Rose practically slammed the door of the interrogation room, letting out an aggravated sigh and resisting the urge to punch through the glass. Mitchell was impossible. It had taken long enough to track him down, their search warrant was tied up until morning, and all he was doing was loudly proclaiming his innocence. He wouldn’t talk any further, only reassuring them of his faith that the truth would prevail. Mickey and Jake had tried to play the “tough cops,” finally sending Rose in when they had no luck.
She had calmly explained to the young man what serious trouble he was in, and how much she wanted to help him. Despite her most charming smiles and most innocent hair flips, he refused to talk. Though by the way he was watching her, eyes tracking her every movement, Rose knew she at least had made some impression.
Rose moved into the small viewing room on the other side of the two-way mirror. The Doctor was there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, staring everywhere in the room except at her.
“He’s not budging,” she told him, more than a bit confused as to the Doctor’s behavior. “Something wrong?”
“Wrong?” he squeaked, his gaze finally settling on her. “No, no, nothing’s wrong? Why does something always have to be wrong?”
“Well, for starters, your voice has gone all squeaky,” Rose teased. “And second, you’re barely looking at me.”
The Doctor scoffed, pushing away from the wall but quickly finding there were very few places he could go to avoid the conversation. He turned to the small coffee cart and poured himself a mug of the stale brew. “I'm not...anything, Rose. I just wanted some cream....some coffee…with cream.” He glanced around at the cart, heaving a sigh of disappointment. “No cream. Look at that, will you? There should be cream. Who drinks coffee without cream?”
“Doctor?”
“Think about it, Rose,” he began, spinning around to face her. “Say you find the perfect cream for your coffee…that gorgeous flavor that compliments your…palette in every way and suddenly, you can’t get enough of it!”
Rose tilted her head, gazing at him quizzically. “What, like French Vanilla? Are we out of French Vanilla? I’ll let Mickey know…”
“Nononono....just listen to me. Say you've got this perfect cream, right? And it's....in your refrigerator...and you haven't even tasted it yet. Not properly. You've just...opened the cap and smelled it.”
“Doctor, I don’t-”
“But then, one day, you are going for a walk, just to get some file folders, and you see someone else is tasting your cream. And you can’t be mad at your cream, it was just doing its job. And when that cream just bats its eyelashes and looks all delicious....well, you can’t help but be a little stroppy that someone else is trying to get the first taste before you’ve even gotten to it!”
Realization clicked in Rose’s mind. “Oh, I get it.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, just next time write your name on whatever it is and nobody'll touch it.”
The Doctor groaned, burying his face in his hands. “No, Rose, that’s not…”
Rose smiled softly, finally starting to understand what he was trying to say. She pulled his hands away from his face and met his gaze. “Doctor,” she began slowly. “Are you saying I’m the cream in your refrigerator?”
He blinked at her before a grin spread across his face. “Rose, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”
Rose sighed, even though the smile didn’t wane from her face. She turned on the charm, tucking her tongue teasingly between her teeth and feeling a little thrill as the Doctor’s eyes zeroed in on the tiny bit of flesh. He went to put his mug down, gaze still transfixed on her mouth, and Rose had to stifle her giggle at the sound of the mug missing the small table and falling into the trash can next to it. She reached up, cupping his cheek, brushing a feather-light kiss near the corner of his mouth.
“You’re adorable when you’re jealous,” she whispered.
She pulled back fractionally, her heart rate accelerating when she noticed his eyes shut tight and his chest rising and falling with his slightly labored breathing. “I’m not jealous,” he whispered, leaning in slowly. “I’m…”
Rose closed her eyes, standing on her tiptoes and tilting her head. The entire world melted away and time slowed down as they inched closer. Her pulse was thudding in her ears, and heat spread through her body when she felt the Doctor’s cool hands grasp onto her waist. They were so close she could feel his quick breaths fluttering against her lips.
When he let out an almost reverent whisper of her name, his mouth brushing hers, every bit of common sense flew out of Rose’s head. She snaked her arms around his neck and knew, with one word from him, he could ravish her right there, against the small coffee cart, in the middle of the station, with their lead suspect sitting quietly one thin pane of glass away.
“COFFEE!”
The door to the viewing room crashed open. They broke apart so abruptly that Rose stumbled, the Doctor’s quick reflexes the only thing keeping her from tumbling to the floor.
Jack, looking rumpled and exhausted, raised an eyebrow at the pair of them. She could feel her cheeks flaming, the Doctor had her pressed tightly to him, and they were both breathing rapidly. It wouldn’t take Jack long to figure out what he’d interrupted.
Instead of commenting, Jack simply coughed and strolled over to the coffee service as if nothing had happened. “This a fresh pot? Don’t answer that, I don’t think I want to hear it. I’m so caffeine-deprived that I don’t even know what’s going on. Huh, look at that…someone threw away a perfectly good mug. Who does that?”
“Impeccable timing as usual, Harkness,” the Doctor muttered as Jack poured himself a mug. Rose offered the Doctor an apologetic look as she detangled from him. The sad little smile he gave her in return did absolutely nothing for her resolve.
“Hmmm?” Jack replied vaguely, dumping two sugars into the mug and stirring. “What? No luck with Grantland?’
“None,” Rose replied. “Tried every trick in the book, too.”
“Everything but a striptease…” the Doctor murmured petulantly.
Rose’s jaw dropped in shock, and she punched him hard in the arm in retaliation.
“Oi!” he exclaimed, rubbing his bicep. “Blimey, you pack a powerful punch.”
“Watch it,” she warned before turning back to Jack. “Do you mind giving it a go?”
Jack grinned flirtatiously. “You wanna play a little good cop, bad cop, Inspector?”
“Jack,” the Doctor warned in a low voice.
Rose stared at the Doctor, her face breaking out into a teasing smile. “Don't wait too long to put your name on that creamer, Doctor…”
Her smile widened at the gob smacked look on his face. “I’ll see you in there, Jack.” She left the tiny chamber and headed back into the interrogation room, just in time to hear Jack’s voice close behind.
“Oh, Doctor…speaking of creamer, we’re out of French Vanilla.”
******
An hour later, they were still nowhere. Despite Jack pouring on the charm and smiles and being his usual self, Mitchell had refused to talk. Rose pressed her fingertips to her brow, trying to ward off the headache she could feel coming at her like a freight train.
“Captain Harkness,” Rose muttered. “May I speak with you outside?”
“Certainly, Inspector,” he replied, still maintaining his sunny demeanor, despite proclaiming his distaste for the coffee and pouring it into a small bin early in the conversation.
“Give us a moment please, Mr. Grantland,” she told their suspect, who nodded mutely and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was a younger man, in his early thirties, and heavyset. His skin had the pallor of someone who spent most of his time indoors, his aviator glasses were horribly unflattering and looked as though they would be more in place on his great-aunt than on a young man, and his hairline was beginning to recede.
Rose had to chuckle. She hoped the Doctor didn’t seriously think there was any competition.
She and Jack had moved out of the room, the Doctor immediately leaving the viewing room to join them. Jack ran a hand through his thick, dark hair and huffed impatiently.
“This guy is a piece of work,” he said. “I don't think he's spent more than a few hours outside his parents’ basement in his entire adult life.”
“Be fair,” the Doctor replied. “We know he has a job. That’s a few hours at least…”
“He’s stubborn, I’ll give him that,” Rose said. “Refused an attorney, too. Clearly he thinks he doesn’t have anything to worry about.”
“He’s hiding something,” the Doctor told her. “That’s obvious. To me, at least. I don’t know what without touching him. Hate to violate his thoughts, though…even in the name of justice.” He shuddered.
“You want to give it a go?” Rose asked. “Just…talk to him? See if you can pull something out of him we couldn’t? Maybe if he thinks you could prove he’s innocent he’d be a bit more chatty.”
“Well, couldn’t hurt, I suppose,” he replied, peering into the room. “Honestly, Rose…I’m not so sure. He doesn’t really look the serial killer type.”
Rose gave him a long-suffering look. “Well, no, I suppose not. I mean, he’s not dressed up like a clown, nor is he wearing a mask, or, you know, a T-shirt that says ‘Hey, I’m a Serial Killer!’ Bloody idiot males.”
The Doctor sighed heavily, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. “Now, I’m going to let that one slide because it’s been a very, very long day. But what I meant was, personality-wise, he doesn’t seem to fit the profile.”
“Profiles aren’t always accurate,” Jack countered. “Though if you ever say that to Janice, make sure I’m at least in another time zone…”
“Don’t blame you. I once told her reverse psychology was not an effective interrogation strategy. I got a half hour lecture on behavior modification and classic conditioning…complete with hand puppets,” Rose sighed. “Not a time I want to relive. You two ready?”
She led Jack and the Doctor back into the interrogation room, noticing Mitchell sit up a little straighter when she came through the door. The Doctor sniffed, irritated, and Rose had to fight to keep her game face from turning into a fully-fledged grin as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared down her suspect.
“Hello!” the Doctor cut in, plopping down into the chair and propping his trainers up on the table. “I’m the Doctor!”
Mitchell stared at the Doctor, completely dumbfounded as he sat there, grinning cheerfully until Jack cleared his throat.
The Doctor looked around. “Oh! Are you waiting for me to talk then? All right, Mitchell, is it? Mind if I call you Mitch?”
“Um…” he replied, his eyes drifting over to Rose, as if seeking permission to answer. “Actually…”
“Right! Mitch it is,” he turned to Rose and grinned. She had to hide her smile in her hand. “Have you met Detective Inspector Tyler? Brilliant woman, and between you and me,” He glanced around conspiratorially before sliding his feet to the floor, dropping his voice, and leaning forward on the table. “A bit pretty…don’t you think? The crème de la crème…”
Rose had to cough to cover the giggle that escaped her lips.
“I love detecting, don’t you?” the Doctor continued casually, leaning back in his chair. “Good old fashioned detective work. Oh, it’s brilliant. I have learned so much, working with this team. All the tricks they use…verbal interrogation, lie detector tests, visual cues, reverse psychology, all this is just…fascinating. Just between you and me, Mitch,” the Doctor leaned forward once more, and Rose watched with great interest as Mitchell mirrored his posture. “I’ve heard the police force bring in psychics nowadays. Isn’t that wild? You know, if you believe in that sort of thing. They say they can pluck the thoughts right out of your head! Can you imagine? Right out of your head without you even realizing it! Complete Vulcan mind meld…minus the Vulcan, that is. Vulcans won’t have contact with humans until the late 55th Century, after all. But just think about it…behind that mirror,” he gestured to the two-way mirror and Mitchell glanced over, his face growing pale. “There could be a psychic detective, working his way little by little into your brain as we’re sitting here having a lovely chat and neither of us would have a clue what was going on!”
Rose watched in disbelief as Mitchell gulped. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow. It was the first change in demeanor she’d seen since they brought him in. She chanced a glance at Jack, who was grinning in delight.
“Then again,” the Doctor began, reaching back to scratch at the nape of his neck. “I suppose the psychic could be sitting…I dunno…right in this room? Even…right across from you? Just watching and waiting for you to slip up, to give something away.” He stared at Mitchell, and Rose had to stifle a shudder as the entire room seemed to crackle with energy. Contained in that small cement room, the air seemed to suddenly be charged, as though a thunderstorm was going to blow through at a moment’s notice. The Doctor had told her, weeks ago, how some species had called him “The Oncoming Storm.” She’d laughed and told him that his head was too big, but she could see now the term was disturbingly apt.
She also had to dampen down the desire to spread him out on the table and snog him silly.
The Doctor had leaned back in his chair once again, trainers up on the table, staring intently at the sweaty, nervous young man across from him. Very swiftly, he swung his feet down as the legs of his chair hit the floor with a loud BANG, causing everyone in the room to jump. He leaned forward once again on the table, smiling at Mitchell. “Then again,” he began in a low voice. “Maybe that sort of thing only works if you believe in it. What do you think, Mitch?”
Mitchell had grown very pale, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his labored breaths. His eyes darted around the room, and he removed his glasses briefly to rub at his eyes. “Doctor,” he said. “I swear…I didn’t mean for all this to happen…”
Rose started, hurrying over to the table and sitting in the free chair next to the Doctor, ensuring that the recorder was still running. “I’ll have to ask you once more, Mr. Grantland…do you wish to retain counsel?”
“No,” he replied, swallowing hard. “No, I…I’ll tell you. I…if I said anything I’d lose my job, but since everyone’s going to find out anyway…” he trailed off. “I didn’t hurt those girls, you gotta believe me. I met them, I worked on their computers, I thought they were gorgeous,” he laughed a little. “And I didn’t think they would ever go for someone like me. So, I…hacked into their personnel files and got their addresses and phone numbers…even their internet and computer history, just so we had something to talk about, you know? I know it was wrong, I’m gonna lose my job and I’ll never get outta my parent’s basement,” he buried his face in his hands. “But I swear, I didn’t kill anyone! I don’t even usually leave the house after I get home from work! My mom will tell you! She’ll vouch for me!”
“Hold on,” Rose asked. “Mr. Grantland…you’re saying that you used your position as a technical support representative to…get a girlfriend?”
“I know it was wrong, Inspector,” he replied. “But I have a type, you know? And my type…they’d never go for a guy like me. They go for guys like you, Doctor,” Mitchell gestured, and the Doctor tipped his head, preening a bit under the praise. “But please, believe me…I didn’t kill anyone!”
“Mitchell,” Rose told him gently. “I believe you, but you have to understand how bad all of this looks. We’re gonna need some hard evidence if we’re going to let you go. Do you have an alibi? Something tangible?”
“I can get the log from my Second Life account…”
“Hmmm, a friend could have logged in for you,” Jack finally piped up from across the room. “Might be a no go…”
Rose was about to see what they could do about getting Michell’s mother in to give a statement when the door to the room burst open. Mickey barged in, looking stressed. “Rose,” he began. “Doctor, Jack, let this guy go and get up here now.”
“What, Mickey?” Rose asked, rising from the chair. “What’s happened?”
“There’s been another murder,” Mickey said. “You’re free to go, Mr. Grantland, with apologies, thank you for your time…”
“What do you mean, another murder?” Rose asked as the group rushed through the station. “It’s can’t be…the deadline’s not until…” She glanced down at her watch and her heart sank.
It was 12:35 in the morning.
Her hands began to shake and she slid them through her hair in an attempt to hide it. She ought to have known that the Doctor, eerily in tune with her moods and emotions, would notice something. He came up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders and rubbing gently. “You all right?”
Rose breathed in and out, calming down and using the Doctor’s cool touch to center herself. Her hands stopped shaking and she turned to face him, the last of her anxiety draining as their eyes met.
“I am,” she said, covering his hands with hers. “Let’s catch this bastard.”
Next Chapter
Author: onabearskinrug
Character/Pairing: Ten/Rose with Jack, Mickey, Jake, Pete, Jackie, and others
Rating: Teen this chapter
Summary: The Doctor and Jack are stranded in London when the TARDIS malfunctions and, based on the Doctor's alien gifts, open a psychic detective agency. When an old serial killer comes out to play, it's up to our heroes and DI Rose Tyler to play his deadly game before any more lives are lost.
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or the amazingly brilliant Psych.
A/N: I've been watching too much Psych lately, and this little bunny popped into my head. Mega thanks to the gorgeous and amazing timelord1, kelkat9, and who_in_whoville for encouraging me to wander a bit out of my comfort zone, and ultra-mega thanks to who_in_whoville for coming up with the awesome title! Oh, and fannishliss for inspiring the awesome puzzle ring angle and helping me with all my metalworking issues! Also, huge chunks of this chapter pretty much belond to timelord1 and kelkat9 even though they'd never admit it. So THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU, ladies!
Rose practically slammed the door of the interrogation room, letting out an aggravated sigh and resisting the urge to punch through the glass. Mitchell was impossible. It had taken long enough to track him down, their search warrant was tied up until morning, and all he was doing was loudly proclaiming his innocence. He wouldn’t talk any further, only reassuring them of his faith that the truth would prevail. Mickey and Jake had tried to play the “tough cops,” finally sending Rose in when they had no luck.
She had calmly explained to the young man what serious trouble he was in, and how much she wanted to help him. Despite her most charming smiles and most innocent hair flips, he refused to talk. Though by the way he was watching her, eyes tracking her every movement, Rose knew she at least had made some impression.
Rose moved into the small viewing room on the other side of the two-way mirror. The Doctor was there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, staring everywhere in the room except at her.
“He’s not budging,” she told him, more than a bit confused as to the Doctor’s behavior. “Something wrong?”
“Wrong?” he squeaked, his gaze finally settling on her. “No, no, nothing’s wrong? Why does something always have to be wrong?”
“Well, for starters, your voice has gone all squeaky,” Rose teased. “And second, you’re barely looking at me.”
The Doctor scoffed, pushing away from the wall but quickly finding there were very few places he could go to avoid the conversation. He turned to the small coffee cart and poured himself a mug of the stale brew. “I'm not...anything, Rose. I just wanted some cream....some coffee…with cream.” He glanced around at the cart, heaving a sigh of disappointment. “No cream. Look at that, will you? There should be cream. Who drinks coffee without cream?”
“Doctor?”
“Think about it, Rose,” he began, spinning around to face her. “Say you find the perfect cream for your coffee…that gorgeous flavor that compliments your…palette in every way and suddenly, you can’t get enough of it!”
Rose tilted her head, gazing at him quizzically. “What, like French Vanilla? Are we out of French Vanilla? I’ll let Mickey know…”
“Nononono....just listen to me. Say you've got this perfect cream, right? And it's....in your refrigerator...and you haven't even tasted it yet. Not properly. You've just...opened the cap and smelled it.”
“Doctor, I don’t-”
“But then, one day, you are going for a walk, just to get some file folders, and you see someone else is tasting your cream. And you can’t be mad at your cream, it was just doing its job. And when that cream just bats its eyelashes and looks all delicious....well, you can’t help but be a little stroppy that someone else is trying to get the first taste before you’ve even gotten to it!”
Realization clicked in Rose’s mind. “Oh, I get it.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, just next time write your name on whatever it is and nobody'll touch it.”
The Doctor groaned, burying his face in his hands. “No, Rose, that’s not…”
Rose smiled softly, finally starting to understand what he was trying to say. She pulled his hands away from his face and met his gaze. “Doctor,” she began slowly. “Are you saying I’m the cream in your refrigerator?”
He blinked at her before a grin spread across his face. “Rose, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”
Rose sighed, even though the smile didn’t wane from her face. She turned on the charm, tucking her tongue teasingly between her teeth and feeling a little thrill as the Doctor’s eyes zeroed in on the tiny bit of flesh. He went to put his mug down, gaze still transfixed on her mouth, and Rose had to stifle her giggle at the sound of the mug missing the small table and falling into the trash can next to it. She reached up, cupping his cheek, brushing a feather-light kiss near the corner of his mouth.
“You’re adorable when you’re jealous,” she whispered.
She pulled back fractionally, her heart rate accelerating when she noticed his eyes shut tight and his chest rising and falling with his slightly labored breathing. “I’m not jealous,” he whispered, leaning in slowly. “I’m…”
Rose closed her eyes, standing on her tiptoes and tilting her head. The entire world melted away and time slowed down as they inched closer. Her pulse was thudding in her ears, and heat spread through her body when she felt the Doctor’s cool hands grasp onto her waist. They were so close she could feel his quick breaths fluttering against her lips.
When he let out an almost reverent whisper of her name, his mouth brushing hers, every bit of common sense flew out of Rose’s head. She snaked her arms around his neck and knew, with one word from him, he could ravish her right there, against the small coffee cart, in the middle of the station, with their lead suspect sitting quietly one thin pane of glass away.
“COFFEE!”
The door to the viewing room crashed open. They broke apart so abruptly that Rose stumbled, the Doctor’s quick reflexes the only thing keeping her from tumbling to the floor.
Jack, looking rumpled and exhausted, raised an eyebrow at the pair of them. She could feel her cheeks flaming, the Doctor had her pressed tightly to him, and they were both breathing rapidly. It wouldn’t take Jack long to figure out what he’d interrupted.
Instead of commenting, Jack simply coughed and strolled over to the coffee service as if nothing had happened. “This a fresh pot? Don’t answer that, I don’t think I want to hear it. I’m so caffeine-deprived that I don’t even know what’s going on. Huh, look at that…someone threw away a perfectly good mug. Who does that?”
“Impeccable timing as usual, Harkness,” the Doctor muttered as Jack poured himself a mug. Rose offered the Doctor an apologetic look as she detangled from him. The sad little smile he gave her in return did absolutely nothing for her resolve.
“Hmmm?” Jack replied vaguely, dumping two sugars into the mug and stirring. “What? No luck with Grantland?’
“None,” Rose replied. “Tried every trick in the book, too.”
“Everything but a striptease…” the Doctor murmured petulantly.
Rose’s jaw dropped in shock, and she punched him hard in the arm in retaliation.
“Oi!” he exclaimed, rubbing his bicep. “Blimey, you pack a powerful punch.”
“Watch it,” she warned before turning back to Jack. “Do you mind giving it a go?”
Jack grinned flirtatiously. “You wanna play a little good cop, bad cop, Inspector?”
“Jack,” the Doctor warned in a low voice.
Rose stared at the Doctor, her face breaking out into a teasing smile. “Don't wait too long to put your name on that creamer, Doctor…”
Her smile widened at the gob smacked look on his face. “I’ll see you in there, Jack.” She left the tiny chamber and headed back into the interrogation room, just in time to hear Jack’s voice close behind.
“Oh, Doctor…speaking of creamer, we’re out of French Vanilla.”
******
An hour later, they were still nowhere. Despite Jack pouring on the charm and smiles and being his usual self, Mitchell had refused to talk. Rose pressed her fingertips to her brow, trying to ward off the headache she could feel coming at her like a freight train.
“Captain Harkness,” Rose muttered. “May I speak with you outside?”
“Certainly, Inspector,” he replied, still maintaining his sunny demeanor, despite proclaiming his distaste for the coffee and pouring it into a small bin early in the conversation.
“Give us a moment please, Mr. Grantland,” she told their suspect, who nodded mutely and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was a younger man, in his early thirties, and heavyset. His skin had the pallor of someone who spent most of his time indoors, his aviator glasses were horribly unflattering and looked as though they would be more in place on his great-aunt than on a young man, and his hairline was beginning to recede.
Rose had to chuckle. She hoped the Doctor didn’t seriously think there was any competition.
She and Jack had moved out of the room, the Doctor immediately leaving the viewing room to join them. Jack ran a hand through his thick, dark hair and huffed impatiently.
“This guy is a piece of work,” he said. “I don't think he's spent more than a few hours outside his parents’ basement in his entire adult life.”
“Be fair,” the Doctor replied. “We know he has a job. That’s a few hours at least…”
“He’s stubborn, I’ll give him that,” Rose said. “Refused an attorney, too. Clearly he thinks he doesn’t have anything to worry about.”
“He’s hiding something,” the Doctor told her. “That’s obvious. To me, at least. I don’t know what without touching him. Hate to violate his thoughts, though…even in the name of justice.” He shuddered.
“You want to give it a go?” Rose asked. “Just…talk to him? See if you can pull something out of him we couldn’t? Maybe if he thinks you could prove he’s innocent he’d be a bit more chatty.”
“Well, couldn’t hurt, I suppose,” he replied, peering into the room. “Honestly, Rose…I’m not so sure. He doesn’t really look the serial killer type.”
Rose gave him a long-suffering look. “Well, no, I suppose not. I mean, he’s not dressed up like a clown, nor is he wearing a mask, or, you know, a T-shirt that says ‘Hey, I’m a Serial Killer!’ Bloody idiot males.”
The Doctor sighed heavily, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. “Now, I’m going to let that one slide because it’s been a very, very long day. But what I meant was, personality-wise, he doesn’t seem to fit the profile.”
“Profiles aren’t always accurate,” Jack countered. “Though if you ever say that to Janice, make sure I’m at least in another time zone…”
“Don’t blame you. I once told her reverse psychology was not an effective interrogation strategy. I got a half hour lecture on behavior modification and classic conditioning…complete with hand puppets,” Rose sighed. “Not a time I want to relive. You two ready?”
She led Jack and the Doctor back into the interrogation room, noticing Mitchell sit up a little straighter when she came through the door. The Doctor sniffed, irritated, and Rose had to fight to keep her game face from turning into a fully-fledged grin as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared down her suspect.
“Hello!” the Doctor cut in, plopping down into the chair and propping his trainers up on the table. “I’m the Doctor!”
Mitchell stared at the Doctor, completely dumbfounded as he sat there, grinning cheerfully until Jack cleared his throat.
The Doctor looked around. “Oh! Are you waiting for me to talk then? All right, Mitchell, is it? Mind if I call you Mitch?”
“Um…” he replied, his eyes drifting over to Rose, as if seeking permission to answer. “Actually…”
“Right! Mitch it is,” he turned to Rose and grinned. She had to hide her smile in her hand. “Have you met Detective Inspector Tyler? Brilliant woman, and between you and me,” He glanced around conspiratorially before sliding his feet to the floor, dropping his voice, and leaning forward on the table. “A bit pretty…don’t you think? The crème de la crème…”
Rose had to cough to cover the giggle that escaped her lips.
“I love detecting, don’t you?” the Doctor continued casually, leaning back in his chair. “Good old fashioned detective work. Oh, it’s brilliant. I have learned so much, working with this team. All the tricks they use…verbal interrogation, lie detector tests, visual cues, reverse psychology, all this is just…fascinating. Just between you and me, Mitch,” the Doctor leaned forward once more, and Rose watched with great interest as Mitchell mirrored his posture. “I’ve heard the police force bring in psychics nowadays. Isn’t that wild? You know, if you believe in that sort of thing. They say they can pluck the thoughts right out of your head! Can you imagine? Right out of your head without you even realizing it! Complete Vulcan mind meld…minus the Vulcan, that is. Vulcans won’t have contact with humans until the late 55th Century, after all. But just think about it…behind that mirror,” he gestured to the two-way mirror and Mitchell glanced over, his face growing pale. “There could be a psychic detective, working his way little by little into your brain as we’re sitting here having a lovely chat and neither of us would have a clue what was going on!”
Rose watched in disbelief as Mitchell gulped. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow. It was the first change in demeanor she’d seen since they brought him in. She chanced a glance at Jack, who was grinning in delight.
“Then again,” the Doctor began, reaching back to scratch at the nape of his neck. “I suppose the psychic could be sitting…I dunno…right in this room? Even…right across from you? Just watching and waiting for you to slip up, to give something away.” He stared at Mitchell, and Rose had to stifle a shudder as the entire room seemed to crackle with energy. Contained in that small cement room, the air seemed to suddenly be charged, as though a thunderstorm was going to blow through at a moment’s notice. The Doctor had told her, weeks ago, how some species had called him “The Oncoming Storm.” She’d laughed and told him that his head was too big, but she could see now the term was disturbingly apt.
She also had to dampen down the desire to spread him out on the table and snog him silly.
The Doctor had leaned back in his chair once again, trainers up on the table, staring intently at the sweaty, nervous young man across from him. Very swiftly, he swung his feet down as the legs of his chair hit the floor with a loud BANG, causing everyone in the room to jump. He leaned forward once again on the table, smiling at Mitchell. “Then again,” he began in a low voice. “Maybe that sort of thing only works if you believe in it. What do you think, Mitch?”
Mitchell had grown very pale, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his labored breaths. His eyes darted around the room, and he removed his glasses briefly to rub at his eyes. “Doctor,” he said. “I swear…I didn’t mean for all this to happen…”
Rose started, hurrying over to the table and sitting in the free chair next to the Doctor, ensuring that the recorder was still running. “I’ll have to ask you once more, Mr. Grantland…do you wish to retain counsel?”
“No,” he replied, swallowing hard. “No, I…I’ll tell you. I…if I said anything I’d lose my job, but since everyone’s going to find out anyway…” he trailed off. “I didn’t hurt those girls, you gotta believe me. I met them, I worked on their computers, I thought they were gorgeous,” he laughed a little. “And I didn’t think they would ever go for someone like me. So, I…hacked into their personnel files and got their addresses and phone numbers…even their internet and computer history, just so we had something to talk about, you know? I know it was wrong, I’m gonna lose my job and I’ll never get outta my parent’s basement,” he buried his face in his hands. “But I swear, I didn’t kill anyone! I don’t even usually leave the house after I get home from work! My mom will tell you! She’ll vouch for me!”
“Hold on,” Rose asked. “Mr. Grantland…you’re saying that you used your position as a technical support representative to…get a girlfriend?”
“I know it was wrong, Inspector,” he replied. “But I have a type, you know? And my type…they’d never go for a guy like me. They go for guys like you, Doctor,” Mitchell gestured, and the Doctor tipped his head, preening a bit under the praise. “But please, believe me…I didn’t kill anyone!”
“Mitchell,” Rose told him gently. “I believe you, but you have to understand how bad all of this looks. We’re gonna need some hard evidence if we’re going to let you go. Do you have an alibi? Something tangible?”
“I can get the log from my Second Life account…”
“Hmmm, a friend could have logged in for you,” Jack finally piped up from across the room. “Might be a no go…”
Rose was about to see what they could do about getting Michell’s mother in to give a statement when the door to the room burst open. Mickey barged in, looking stressed. “Rose,” he began. “Doctor, Jack, let this guy go and get up here now.”
“What, Mickey?” Rose asked, rising from the chair. “What’s happened?”
“There’s been another murder,” Mickey said. “You’re free to go, Mr. Grantland, with apologies, thank you for your time…”
“What do you mean, another murder?” Rose asked as the group rushed through the station. “It’s can’t be…the deadline’s not until…” She glanced down at her watch and her heart sank.
It was 12:35 in the morning.
Her hands began to shake and she slid them through her hair in an attempt to hide it. She ought to have known that the Doctor, eerily in tune with her moods and emotions, would notice something. He came up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders and rubbing gently. “You all right?”
Rose breathed in and out, calming down and using the Doctor’s cool touch to center herself. Her hands stopped shaking and she turned to face him, the last of her anxiety draining as their eyes met.
“I am,” she said, covering his hands with hers. “Let’s catch this bastard.”
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