When Logan opened his eyes again, the inspector was slumped in the passenger seat, shuddering silently, tears running down his face.
Heather sat with her back to the metal wall, feeling its cold seeping deep into her shoulders as she started into the Dark. Duncan was right - the Dark was more than just an absence of light, it was a living, breathing thing. When Duncan left her on her own it whispered to her. Whispered terrible, terrible things. She pushed her hands over her ears and sang to drown it out, one of those stupid kids' songs off the telly that Justin likes ... liked ... so much. Singing and crying and trying no to listen to the Dark. Where the hell was Duncan? Abandoning her - he knew, he knew, he knew, he knew, he-- 'Heather, come on, Honey, calm down.' She looked up at him, standing there with his blood halo glowing red like a burning building. 'You left me!' 'I was only away for a minute.' 'You left me ...' He squatted down next to her.'No I didn't.' 'You died.' 'But I'm here now.' She squinted through the bars - just visible in the faint glow from Duncan's head. The Dark was silent again. 'It scares me ...' 'Shhhh ...' He kissed her forehead, then got up and walked over to the tinfoil parcel of sliced meat.'You know, this is starting to smell a little funky.' 'Don't leave me alone in the dark.' 'Probably be OK for another couple of days though. Sell-by dates are just a load of old bollocks anyway.' 'Duncan.' 'I promise, OK? I'll never leave you again.' On the other side of the bars the Dark was silent. Biding its time. Knowing that sooner or later Duncan would let her down. And then Heather Inglis would belong to the Dark.
