Sergeant Jamie Rodgers had always wanted to be in the police force. He'd excelled in college, and in all the police tests and exams. He had been on top of the world when he was assigned to his first job. His work had impressed his superiors that within a couple of years he had risen to the rank of sergeant, and put to work under Detective Arlene Timpet. Having survived that cow for two years, he had finally been moved to another district under the charge of one of the best detectives England had to offer. Detective Lisa Singer, the open minded, forward thinking woman who sat beside him in his car as he drove towards the moors. He glanced at her quickly, still savouring his good fortune at being paired with such a well known member of the force. He remembered meeting her like it was yesterday.
"Sergeant Rodgers, this is Detective Inspector Lisa Singer, Lisa, this is Sergeant Jamie Rodgers, your new partner in anti-crime." The Chief Inspector had chuckled at his own joke, and Jamie had laughed nervously with him. Then he had caught sight of the woman who was turning round from the table she had been pouring over.
She was not the typical definition of 'hot', and yet Jamie found himself inexplicably catching his breath. She had brown hair, pushed behind her ears, and fabulous eyes that analysed him within a second. There was a quirky, cheerful manner to those eyes, and a breezy manner to the way she presented herself.
"Welcome to the team Jamie." She stuck out her hand assertively, and he shook it. She had a firm grip.
"A privilege to be working with you Ma'am." The men round the table behind her chuckled, shaking their heads.
"Lesson number one." She said, releasing his hand. "Never call me Ma'am." And then she turned back to the table, leaving Jamie standing without purpose, open mouthed next to the Chief Inspector. The Chief gave Jamie an amused, 'good luck' glance, and then returned to his office.
"Sergeant!" Jamie was jerked from his remeniscing by Singer's voice. He looked around and realised he'd gone past the group of police cars parked at the side of the road, waiting for their arrival. He hurriedly pulled in and parked.
Singer climbed out of the car, Jamie behind her, and they marched over to the group of police officers. There was a man sat on a stile, covered in a blanket, crying.
"What's the situation?" Singer asked Constable Jones; a middle aged, balding man whose tie looked like it had previously been owned by a clown.
"Johnny Peters, 25, claims he and his fiance Catherine Landry were walking on the moor at night when they realised something was following them. Peters was knocked to the floor and the next thing he knows he's on his own. No Catherine Landry, no attacker. Miss Landry is nowhere to be seen, and we've had helecopters out for an hour."
Singer marched over to the crying man, presumably Johnny Peters.
"Mr Peters?" The man glanced up and nodded."I would like for you to tell me everything that happened last night, in your own words."
"We only went for a walk. And Cathy kept saying she could hear breathing. And then I heard it too. So I said, 'who's there?' and then something knocked me down. All I can remember was Cathy's scream and then there being no one there when I got up."
"You saw no one?"
"And you say you heard breathing."
"Yes. Normally, that'd be a hard thing to hear, but this one... it was all raspy, like something was choking it, and it was like some dead thing was after us."
"Yes." Lisa Singer's face was clear. She did not believe that 'some dead thing' had taken Catherine Landry.