9. The Interview

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(Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to let_alpha_write and his spooky ONC story, Anaya: A Dark Voyage)


"Miller? Detective Calvin wants to see you. Leave that and come with me." Mr Pettigrew's voice came from behind him.

Head down over his benchtop, the Butcher allowed himself one gleeful grin, before composing his features once again to mimic the timid expression of his stolen persona.

"Me, sir? I've done nothing wrong. He's not here to arrest me, is he?"

"No, no, of course not," Mr Pettigrew said testily. "He just wishes to ask you some questions about Jenkins."

"But I don't know anything!"

"That's what I told him, but he still wants to see you. Come along, there's a good chap."

So, the local fuzz wanted to interview him, did they? Bring it on! Already on an adrenaline high after his success of the previous night, the Butcher realised he was grinning again. Damn! He had to tone down his elation. Quickly, he wiped the grin from his face and shuffled his feet.

"I'm sure there's nothing to worry about!" said Mr Pettigrew gruffly, giving his shoulder a clumsy pat. "Come on, the sooner we go, the sooner it will be over!"

Luckily, it appeared Pettigrew had mistaken his excitement for nervousness. The Butcher took a couple of deep breaths, as if to brace himself, then followed Mr Pettigrew, careful to keep his eyes on the floor.

That had been too close. And entirely his own fault—sometimes he was his own worst enemy. All he had to do was stay in character, the Butcher admonished himself. Answer their questions meekly and not give himself away. This was a primitive place, they had none of the tools which had trapped him before. No DNA testing, he wasn't even certain if they knew about fingerprints!

He'd known within a day of his arrival a month ago, that his future lay here. The place suited him down to the ground, and he was determined to stay. He just had to make sure there was no-one left who could stop him.

He followed Pettigrew upstairs and waited patiently while he knocked at the door.

"Come in," called a firm voice.

The Butcher entered and then stopped, catching his breath as he stared at the man rising from behind the desk. He knew that face! Those strange, dark blue eyes... Was this a trap? He looked around wildly, but saw no-one springing forward to put him in chains. There were only the two of them in the room, Pettigrew had already left.

"Keith Miller? I'm Detective Calvin," the man was saying politely, with no sign of recognition. "Please have a seat."

Calvin? He was pretty sure that was not the name he'd known. Not a trap, then. The Butcher felt cold and shaky as the flood of adrenaline drained away. He struggled to focus.

Now Calvin was looking at him strangely. "Are you all right?"

The Butcher ran a finger around his collar. "I'm sorry, could I have a glass of water?" He sank into the chair. "The news about Jenkins has upset me more than I thought. Not that I knew him well," he hastened to add. "Just... the manner of it..."

Reaching for the glass of water the detective was offering, the Butcher caught the sudden flash of interest in Calvin's eyes. Damn! What had he said? He backtracked quickly.

"Murder, I mean. Well, you don't expect that, do you? Not someone you work with."

"No, I suppose not. How long have you known Mr Jenkins?"

"Only a week, since I started work here."

The Butcher forced himself to concentrate on the simple questions the detective was asking him. Much as he wanted rather desperately to remember exactly where he had seen Calvin before and under what name, he couldn't afford to make another mistake. They might not have much in the way of technology here but they had brains... and prisons.

He tried to relax. There would be plenty of time when he got home to search his memories, and to check the list of names he had sewn into the lining of his coat. Though, to be honest, he had them all memorised and he was prepared to swear the name Calvin was not one of them. Could they have gotten the name wrong? Or perhaps Calvin had changed it himself... Or, perhaps the most unlikely of all, he had just discovered an entirely new prototype.

One more to add to his list.

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