Two months. That's how long Strike had been without seeing or hearing or Robin. He was almost surprised to see his copious dark beard and sad eyes looking at him between the raindrops that slid down the mirror of his tiny, barely decorated apartment. When he realised it was late, that Robin had officially married Matthew Cunliffe, he had exchanged a look with Robin and saw how Robin was suddenly so happy, her eyes cheerful and bright, a sincere smile creeping its way into her face like it hadn't done all day, Strike had finally and very suddenly realised of two things: one, he loved Robin and was pretty certain now that she, if not love him the same way, at least felt something pretty close to that towards himself. Two, Robin was now out of reach.

In the split of a second he had understood that if he stood there, Robin would have issues. That Matthew, eternally jealous, would make a scene and this time it would be with all the motive, and that he would ruin what was supposed to be Robin's happiest day of her life.

"She loves him. Not you. It's just a crush for you." Strike whispered to himself sadly for what felt like the hundredth time. He searched his phone for the last text he had sent Robin, right as he got back in Shanker's car and went to the hospital to get fixed up. The last text before he blocked her number and never spoke to her again for the past two months.

'Robin. Congratulations on your wedding. You looked incredible, as always, and I truly hope this makes you happy. Donald Laing has been arrested, but you won't be needed at the trial, I'll take care of everything, since you aren't even employed at the moment. But congratulations for that too, if it wasn't for you, he would still be walking free.

I'm sorry for my deplorable behaviour towards you, you deserve better. I want you to know, Robin, that the reason I never looked for a partner was because I was never able to trust someone to do the job as well or better than myself, I didn't want some useless stranger to pop in and throw my business down the toilet. I never expected to find someone as hard working, observant, brilliant and as qualified for the job as you are. And I hope you know that I see you and I appreciate everything that you've done. Which is why I know you deserve better and you can I definitely cannot keep working together.

I'm sorry I fired you in the first place - even if you messed things up really badly, I know I went too far. I know we should've found some way for you to redeem yourself without having to kick you out. But I'm even sorrier that I'm not going to let you come back. Ever. Listen, this doesn't make me happy. Believe me when I tell you there's nothing that I want more than change everything that's happened and just have you be my partner - our business will never be the same without you. Hell... my life will never be the same without you. You made things... easy. Warm. Nice. Welcoming. Which is way I hate to have to break all relationship with you. From now on, we part ways... and I, as much as it hurts me, can't be your friend anymore. I think deep down you understand why. I think you've always known, just like me. And that when you finally accept the truth just like I have... you'll understand I do this because I care about you. It's for your own good.

This being the last thing I'll tell you, there's something else that's really important that you know.

I want you to be happy. You've chosen to spend your entire life with Matthew and I truly hope you chose as wisely as you are, and that he makes you as happy and loved as you deserve to be. I also know how much this job meant to you, how big of a loss for this profession would it be to lose you, and how much you'd hate to have to look like a failure to anyone's eyes. Because you're many things, but not a failure. This job needs you. You are amazing at it.

I guess Wardle must've seen in you the same as I, and since I fired you, he's been after me to hire you as a consultant for the police and I've encouraged him to hire you right away. You'll be assisting them to solve crimes and make a difference for good and you'll be way better paid than I could've ever afforded, just like you deserve. I hope you enjoy your new job as much as you enjoyed this one.

Best of luck. Thank you for everything.

Cormoran.'

Strike had spoken about it right after escaping Robin's wedding. He called Eric Wardle, insisted that he had to find Robin a good job, that he owed him, and told him exactly where Robin would be the most useful for them. It took a lot of insisting, but Wardle liked Robin, so it would be a matter of time. With his 'maybe, we'll see', Strike had texted such long text to the redheaded, and then, blocked her number and sent a recommendation letter the next day. Through his own investigation, he had come to learn that Robin had accepted the job and had been succeeding at it for the past month and a half, since she came back from her honeymoon.

Robin had come to the office but Strike had already changed the lock and ignored her threats to tumble the door down until Robin actually believed he was never at the office, which wasn't weird since they both had always worked outside in surveillance a lot. She had called him a lot, texted him, sent letters. Until the last couple days, when her attempts to contact him had finally stopped. Strike wondered if she had finally understood why this was necessary. How, if she kept working with him, he may give her one of his famous drunk confessions in the worst possible day one day and tell him how Matthew wasn't good enough for her, how no one really was, but Matthew the least. He didn't want to put her in that position. He didn't want for her to choose. And he didn't think he would be able to content himself again if she ever came back crying because of Matthew's stupidity.

Strike sighed walking downstairs to the office. His new temp was a twenty four year old man called Eric Davenport, organised, cordial and hard working, which was all Strike asked. He knew he wouldn't be able to find someone like Robin and yet he had tried hard to teach Eric to do everything the way Robin did.

"Any news?" Strike grumbled as he served himself a mug of coffee. Eric's blonde curly hair was impatiently brushed off his forehead, revealing two eyes very separated and light blue. Eric, that Strike figured was objectively attractive already to most woman, made a point of always brushing his curls nicely and dressing very properly, with suit and tie, making it noticeable that he came from a good family with good manners.

"No, Mr. Strike" Eric said cordially "Ms. Cotton called again, but I told her we still have no news of her husband, Mr. Cotton." Strike looked at him with curiosity, missing the way Robin would name their clients with something related to their looks or stories so it was easier to remember. Eric was too polite and well mannered for that, making Strike sometimes wonder what was he doing there "Mr. Cotton, sir... the man who is suspected of cheating on Ms. Cotton with the woman from the patisserie down Charing Cross." Strike nodded.

"Alright. I was just going to check on that, yes." Strike nodded again, taking a long gulp of coffee before leaving the room. He moved wobbly down the thin stairway to Denmark Street, and then took the 24 in Tottenham Court Road to Charing Cross Road.

. . .

"At least now you earn a respectable payment." Matthew sighed moving around the kitchen of the new modest house that Robin and he had rented in Kensington.

"Yeah, but the cops just won't give me the freedom of work that I had with Strike..." Robin complained over her mountain of paperwork "they think I'm stupid!"

"Maybe you have to let the professionals do their job..."

"Professionals? And what am I, Matthew?" Robin was scandalised. Matthew sighed.

"This is the job you wanted. The perfect job. You get to play private detective while getting paid well enough for us to afford..."

"This isn't a game!" Robin was angry "And this isn't the job I wanted!" as happy and grateful Robin was for her job and, as much as she knew most people would kill to be in her place, she missed the tiny office in Denmark Street, she missed following stupid cheaters around London, and she missed... well, him. She knew she was being stupid, but she couldn't help it. A few more pounds in her pocket only made the pressure in her chest heavier.

"You're never happy, Jesus Christ, most people would kill for...!" but Robin was no longer listening to him. She had gotten a missing call from her colleague at the police department so she was already on her way to her Land Rover, that in just a few minutes, had her in the police station. She honestly didn't care about whatever Matthew thought to be entitled to say.

"Robin Cunliffe, consultant detective." She introduced herself like usual. She was let in a building that sounded of telephones and the steady whispering of police talking in the offices, and soon found the policewoman she worked alongside with, Detective Cathy Rain "What's going on?" Detective Rain turned around with her blonde hair falling in waves behind her shoulder and her dark eyes looking kindly at Robin as she pulled away from the computer on her desk.

"Well Cunliffe, nice to see you today. We have a Jared Heifsner that has committing fraud for quite a few months, we've been after him for the longest time... and we finally found him."

"That sounds great, why am I here then?" Robin asked.

"We've got a problem with Mr. Heifsner" Rain got up and indicated for Robin to follow her outside to the corridor, where there was less people walking around than in the big room full of desks "he's been dead for six months, according to the doctors." Robin raised her eyebrows, surprised.

"So, someone killed him and has been using his identity to commit fraud?" Robin asked "how did you even found his body then?"

"A neighbour complained for smells... when police got in, they found the dead body." Rain explained "It seems like he died of drug overdose, but his family says he's never been known for taking drugs although of course they could be lying. Thing is, if someone is passing as him, then it's more than likely that Heifsner was murdered. Coincidentally, Heifsner's record of fraud started around the time of his death."

"Someone murders him just to steal his identity and commit fraud with it?" Robin frowned "It seems too much work for someone who only wanted to get some money through fraud."

"It was also a very clean crime. We haven't found a single lead towards is murder. We're looking for someone educated, who has knowledge about drugs and how to perform a crime without leaving tracks, someone who knows what they're doing and who has such a big interest in money that he doesn't care about what he has to do to get there. Someone clean and cold, organised, possibly a doctor." Robin sighed, shifting her weight from one leg to another.