Mike Shevdon - Sixty-One Nails

That was when the police car put the blue lights on and pulled over beside the curb.

It crossed my mind that I might run for it, but I was already breathing hard and they were fresh, unencumbered and probably a lot fitter then I was. The last time I had been to the gym had been to fetch Katherine home and that had been a while ago. Both the driver and the passenger got out, effectively cutting off the avenues of escape. I didn't move, but leant over, resting my hands on my knees and wheezing like a steam train.

"Isn't it a little early for jogging, sir?"

That was bad news. They always called you "sir" when they were expecting to arrest you.

My throat burned and I wheezed while I thought of something to say. Unfortunately whatever I told them was going to have to contain at least a portion of the truth. I glanced back down the road for signs of pursuit, but the pavement was empty.

The policemen waited while I caught my breath. The first was tall and heavily built, like a rugby player, and had a slightly crooked nose to match. The other was slight by comparison. His face was narrow and his cheekbones sharp. He wore black gloves and was holding his baton.

"I'm not jogging." I paused to breathe. "I'm running away."

The rugby player took the lead. "Running away, sir?"

"Officer, look I know this is going to sound crazy, but there was something in my flat, trying to get into my bedroom. I jumped out of the window and ran for it." I panted while he looked me over sceptically.

"With your rucksack, sir?"

"I was going on a trip, later," I explained. It sounded lame, even to me.

"Do you mind if my colleague takes a look in your rucksack, sir?" I let the thin one take the rucksack from where it rested against my legs. "Meanwhile you can show me some evidence of your identity, if you'd be so kind."

I patted my pockets. My wallet, watch and keys were still in my top drawer in the bedroom. Good plan, bring clean socks but leave the money behind.

"I don't have them with me. I left them behind when I jumped out of the window."

"So you say, sir."

He glanced at his colleague who was busy rooting though my belongings. "Just clothes, Jim. Some food," he acknowledged.

Jim watched me. "Tell you what, sir. Why don't you get into the back of the car where it's dry and you can tell us all about it?" It wasn't really a question.

His colleague held the door open and they herded me into the back of the car. I was willing to bet the door didn't open from the inside, so I was stuck. They spoke to each other after the door shut and then the thin officer opened the passenger door of the car and deposited my rucksack on the front seat. Jim walked around the back of the car and got in beside me. He easily filled the space behind the driver's seat. I was starting to shiver and my hands were shaking in my lap. He must have noticed because he got out again and opened the boot, returning a moment later with a grey blanket.

"Here, put this around your shoulders. It'll stop you getting a chill."

I nodded, my teeth starting to chatter, partly through cold and partly reaction. I unfolded the blanket and pulled it around my neck, shifting it around to pull it down behind me in the cramped rear of the car. "Thanks."

Was he more sympathetic than his colleague, or was he just playing good cop, bad cop like they did on TV? I had to remind myself that this wasn't a television drama, these were real police and if I came across badly I would end up spending a night in custody. The thought of spending a night locked in a room where the thing in my flat might find me set me shivering again.

The driver slid into the driver's seat in front of his colleague and pulled the door closed with a dull thunk. He picked up the car radio and twisted around in his seat.

"I'm going to need to check your ID, sir, if you don't mind. Can you give me your name and address?"

"It's Petersen. Niall Petersen. I live at 145 Cromwell Road."

He nodded. "And how long have you lived there?"

"Just over a year. I moved in at the beginning of September, last year."

Clicking the button on the radio handset he spoke into it. "Control, this is four-two-five-six. I need an electoral check on a householder?"

There was a momentary crackle. "Go ahead, Colin."

"Name, Petersen; first name Niall." He asked me to spell it and repeated it into the handset. "Lives Cromwell Road, number one-four-five."

"Stand by."

He rested the handset in his lap. "Nice place?"

"Sorry?"

"One hundred and forty-five, Cromwell Road. Is it a nice place?"

"I like it." It had taken a while for it to become home after the breakup of my marriage, but in time it had become mine.

The radio crackled. "Colin, I have an affirmative. Niall Petersen, age forty-two, lives one hundred and forty-five, Cromwell Road."

Colin lifted the handset again. "Thanks, control. We have a suspected intruder at that address. Requesting backup, a dog handler, if we can have one?"

"Negative on that, Colin. The dog handlers are all on nightclub duty. Will another car do?"

"Affirmative, control. Roger that." He turned to look over his shoulder at me. "Let's take you home, sir, and see what's what."

"I'd really rather not go back there right now." The edge of panic in my voice raised an eyebrow from the officer beside me.

"It's OK, sir. You're quite safe. We just want to check it out."

His efforts to reassure me weren't working. "I mean it." I tried to think of a way to warn them. "Can't you just arrest me or something?" A night in the cells was looking better now.

"We'll see, sir, after we've been to the house."

My reticence to return to the house had sparked off their suspicion again, almost as if there was something I didn't want them to find. In a way they were right, but I could guarantee it wasn't what they suspected.

Colin started the car and did a rapid three-point turn. I wondered whether I could unlock the car doors using my magic and run for it, but then I would lose my rucksack and they would certainly chase me. They already knew my identity and having the police searching for me as well as the Untainted was not a good idea.

The drive back to the house only took a couple of minutes and it struck me that I hadn't run as far as I thought. They parked on the road outside. The house was dark.

"Is it two flats?" Colin asked me, noting the two front doors.

"Yes, the top one's mine. The bottom one belongs to a young couple."

"Do you have your keys?"

"They're upstairs, in my bedroom." I glanced nervously at the front door. "Look, please don't go in there, at least not until morning."

He hesitated.

Jim, the rugby player, answered, "We have to investigate, sir. It's our duty." He pulled the door catch and eased out into the rain.

Colin got out while Jim held the door open and gestured for me to slide across towards him. Colin waited while I reluctantly shrugged off the blanket and shuffled across to get out of the car between them.

"Follow close behind us. We won't let anyone hurt you, OK?" He nodded to Colin and we walked towards the door.

I hung back from them, but then edged closer as the gap opened up between us, leaving me exposed as we went through the gate. The back of my neck prickled. My instinct told me something waited for us but I could see no way out. If I ran for it, I would become their suspect again. Maybe it had gone? Maybe when I ran away it gave up and left?

Colin pushed the front door. "Door's locked."

However it had got in, it'd had the sense to lock the door behind it.

"Is there a back door?" Jim asked me.

"Not for the upstairs flat. Only the downstairs has rear access," I told him, relieved that we weren't going inside.

"Do your neighbours have a key?"