The Weeping Angels
1969
Eric yawned and ran his hand through his thick sandy blond hair. It was getting long, time to visit the barber. He swung his long legs out of bed and walked quietly through the empty apartment to the bathroom.
Monday morning was never his favourite day. Getting out of school had not changed that.
“Nothing will,” he mumbled as he turned on the shower. He undressed and dowsed himself in the hot water. His skin became red with the heat and he sighed heavily.
Another Monday. Another work day. Another day of the unsolvable case.
Eric stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He trudged into the kitchen to turn on the kettle before going back to his room to change into his work clothes.
Twenty minutes later he locked the apartment door and walked down the red carpeted stairs and out into the crisp morning air. It was November and there was a bite in the breeze whistling around the corner as he slid into his car.
Even this early the streets were clogged with traffic as people drove to work. Car horns beeped all around. As if that is going to do any good. Eric thought wryly.
It took longer than usual to get to the station that day. As he walked through the door, Emma was waiting for him, file in hand. Eric groaned inwardly. There was only one reason she would be waiting there with a file for him.
They had attacked again.
“How many people this time?” he asked wearily, combing his fingers through his hair to push it out of his eyes.
“You should keep your hair like that,” Emma spoke in her husky voice. “It suits you. Gives you a kind of…… ruffled detective look.” She stopped when she met his hard gaze. She pulled a face and opened the file as they walked to his office. “We think it might have been two. Though we’ve only found evidence for one person.”
“Evidence?” Eric asked, pulling the meagre file from her hands and flipping through it. “A jacket? That’s it?”
Emma pushed his door open forcefully and glared at him, “Well it’s a hell of a lot more than we usually get don’t you think?”
Eric sighed again. He placed the file on his desk and pulled his beige jacket off and slung it over the back of his chair before sitting down.
Emma stood waiting as he looked through the file. “Come on Eric! Speed read!” she slapped her hands together and placed them on her hips, waiting impatiently.
Mike Spear:
Age: 28.
Gender: male.
Occupation: Accountant.
(P) Sarah Knok:
Age: 25
Gender: female
Occupation: Hairdresser.
“So Sarah is the possible? We don’t actually know if she’s gone?” Eric looked up at Emma.
“Correct Sherlock,” Emma smiled sarcastically.
Evidence: One brown jacket – property of Mike Spear.
“Have they turned up anywhere yet?” Eric flipped through the few pages that were there.
“Nope, not that we’ve been able to find.”
Eric frowned and pushed his hair back again. Usually the people who were taken showed up again within a few hours. Only they would be years older then they had been. Usually by the time they were found these people were either dead or dying.
“Are they still looking?”
Emma nodded and walked from the room. Eric grimaced and closed the file. God she is difficult. He closed his eyes and leant backwards, stretching his arms behind him. Or maybe I’m just getting too old for this. He laughed quietly to himself. He was only thirty after all. Emma was twenty-four. That’s only a six year gap. Who would have thought that it would make such a difference?
He leant forwards again as she re-entered the room. “Any luck?”
“Yep old boy,” Emma smiled indulgently at him. “He’s at the hospital. About an hour to go apparently.”
Eric bit his lip and shook his head slowly. “Goddamn it. Let’s go.” He stood and yanked his jacket on as they walked out of the building. He pulled his keys from his pocket and they slid into the car.
“Which hospital?” Eric asked as they drove out of the car park.
“St Bartholomew’s.” Emma said. “That way,” she pointed when they reached the first intersection.
“Same one as last time.” Eric drummed his fingers on the wheel as the traffic moved slowly forwards. It hadn’t changed since he had last been stuck in it.
“Yeah. Hospital rang as soon as they found him. They thought that we should be the first to know,”
Eric nodded as he pushed the car into a small gap waving absentmindedly to the person who had let him in.
“Do they know what year he went to?”
Emma nodded and looked at her hand, “1969.” She looked over at him as they drove. “Same as the last time. Do you think there is something special about that year?”
Eric turned to look at her with his eyebrows raised, “Emma, if I knew more about this then we might actually be able to get somewhere with this case.”
Monday morning was never his favourite day. Getting out of school had not changed that.
“Nothing will,” he mumbled as he turned on the shower. He undressed and dowsed himself in the hot water. His skin became red with the heat and he sighed heavily.
Another Monday. Another work day. Another day of the unsolvable case.
Eric stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He trudged into the kitchen to turn on the kettle before going back to his room to change into his work clothes.
Twenty minutes later he locked the apartment door and walked down the red carpeted stairs and out into the crisp morning air. It was November and there was a bite in the breeze whistling around the corner as he slid into his car.
Even this early the streets were clogged with traffic as people drove to work. Car horns beeped all around. As if that is going to do any good. Eric thought wryly.
It took longer than usual to get to the station that day. As he walked through the door, Emma was waiting for him, file in hand. Eric groaned inwardly. There was only one reason she would be waiting there with a file for him.
They had attacked again.
“How many people this time?” he asked wearily, combing his fingers through his hair to push it out of his eyes.
“You should keep your hair like that,” Emma spoke in her husky voice. “It suits you. Gives you a kind of…… ruffled detective look.” She stopped when she met his hard gaze. She pulled a face and opened the file as they walked to his office. “We think it might have been two. Though we’ve only found evidence for one person.”
“Evidence?” Eric asked, pulling the meagre file from her hands and flipping through it. “A jacket? That’s it?”
Emma pushed his door open forcefully and glared at him, “Well it’s a hell of a lot more than we usually get don’t you think?”
Eric sighed again. He placed the file on his desk and pulled his beige jacket off and slung it over the back of his chair before sitting down.
Emma stood waiting as he looked through the file. “Come on Eric! Speed read!” she slapped her hands together and placed them on her hips, waiting impatiently.
Mike Spear:
Age: 28.
Gender: male.
Occupation: Accountant.
(P) Sarah Knok:
Age: 25
Gender: female
Occupation: Hairdresser.
“So Sarah is the possible? We don’t actually know if she’s gone?” Eric looked up at Emma.
“Correct Sherlock,” Emma smiled sarcastically.
Evidence: One brown jacket – property of Mike Spear.
“Have they turned up anywhere yet?” Eric flipped through the few pages that were there.
“Nope, not that we’ve been able to find.”
Eric frowned and pushed his hair back again. Usually the people who were taken showed up again within a few hours. Only they would be years older then they had been. Usually by the time they were found these people were either dead or dying.
“Are they still looking?”
Emma nodded and walked from the room. Eric grimaced and closed the file. God she is difficult. He closed his eyes and leant backwards, stretching his arms behind him. Or maybe I’m just getting too old for this. He laughed quietly to himself. He was only thirty after all. Emma was twenty-four. That’s only a six year gap. Who would have thought that it would make such a difference?
He leant forwards again as she re-entered the room. “Any luck?”
“Yep old boy,” Emma smiled indulgently at him. “He’s at the hospital. About an hour to go apparently.”
Eric bit his lip and shook his head slowly. “Goddamn it. Let’s go.” He stood and yanked his jacket on as they walked out of the building. He pulled his keys from his pocket and they slid into the car.
“Which hospital?” Eric asked as they drove out of the car park.
“St Bartholomew’s.” Emma said. “That way,” she pointed when they reached the first intersection.
“Same one as last time.” Eric drummed his fingers on the wheel as the traffic moved slowly forwards. It hadn’t changed since he had last been stuck in it.
“Yeah. Hospital rang as soon as they found him. They thought that we should be the first to know,”
Eric nodded as he pushed the car into a small gap waving absentmindedly to the person who had let him in.
“Do they know what year he went to?”
Emma nodded and looked at her hand, “1969.” She looked over at him as they drove. “Same as the last time. Do you think there is something special about that year?”
Eric turned to look at her with his eyebrows raised, “Emma, if I knew more about this then we might actually be able to get somewhere with this case.”