unfortunate ➸ primeval

Chapter 18

Clara leaned against Nick's car, watching as he gazed out across the water, and then returned to the map that sat on the bonnet of his car. Jenny approached them, a small smile on her cherry red lips. "You're not supposed to be here," she said.

"Where else am I supposed to go?" Nick challenged.

"I could have you thrown out," Jenny warned.

"Yeah, you could," he shrugged. Jenny sighed, fishing a scrap of paper out of her pocket and handing it to Cutter.

"I thought you might be interested in this," she told him. "A local builder's lodged a complaint. He can't get in to demolish an old warehouse because the basement flooded in the tidal search." Nick looked up from the paper and met her gaze. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we're looking for the creatures in the wrong place." Clara suddenly felt a rush of gratitude towards the PR guru.

"At the very least, it's definitely worth checking out," Jenny finished, turning to walk away.

"Hey," Nick called after her. She turned. "As petty-minded beaurocrats go, you're the best." She smiled, biting her lip before strutting back to where she was supposed to be.

Clara chuckled at the look on Nick's face. "She's engaged," she sang as she climbed in the car.

"I know," he defended, gathering his things and tossing them in the back of the car. "That doesn't mean I can't be friendly."

"What, like you were friendly with Claudia Brown?" Clara raised an eyebrow. She instantly regretted saying it when Cutter's face fell. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I forgot you still really missed her. That was unfair."

"No, no," Nick shook his head, starting the engine. "It's okay. One day, we'll find a way to get her back. One day."

Regret eating her up, Clara didn't reply; she just stared out the window as Nick drove to the address Jenny had given him.

——

Bracing himself, Michael knocked on the door of the address Duncan had given him. A small hatch opened, and a pair of bespectacled eyes appeared. "Who is it?" A nasal voice said. "What do you want?"

"Uh, it's Michael Fields," Mike answered uncertainly. "We spoke online? You told me you knew something about the anomalies."

The hatch shut and he heard several locks unlock. The door swung open and Mike was yanked inside by a small, dumpy man about the same age as he was. "Don't say that word outside!" The man - who he presumed was Duncan - hissed. He let Michael go. "Come up."

They ascended the stairs into a jumble of blurry photographs, newspaper clippings, conspiracy theories and maps tacked to every available space, including the ceiling.

"Nice place," Michael commented as he gazed around at it.

"Let's cut the chit chat," Duncan snapped authoritatively. "What do you want to know?"

——

Cutter parked just outside the warehouse and picked up his phone, pressing Dial when he hit Connor's number. Rain began to patter against the windscreen and the windows, and Clara watched the raindrops race each other down the glass as Nick began to speak.

"Connor," he said. "I know how you feel. But, I need your help. I think I know where to look." He paused. "Connor?" He sighed. "Look, listen to me. It was my fault. I should have asked for backup, and I didn't. And that hurricane's cost the life of a very brave, very beautiful girl. And you're right to blame me. But surely, if there's even half a chance that we could stop the same thing from happening to somebody else then we owe it to Abby to do it. And this time I'm asking for backup, so will you come and help me? Please? Clara's here as well, so if you don't want to talk to me then you can talk to her." More silence. "Connor? Okay, if you change your mind, Jenny Lewis knows where to find us." He hung up, throwing his phone down onto his lap.