I'm not doing a 'pre-titles sequence' in this 'episode' because it'd just be a recap if it was a TV episode and I'm really bad at recaps.

--

Harry stared at the dog lying in the gloomy shed. His head was resting on his paws, but he looked up at her as he caught the movement at the window.

Harry turned to Jack. "Why do you have the dog in your shed?" she asked.

"He came home the day after Sam was attacked. I couldn't tell anyone because they'll put him down. Even Sam doesn't know."

Harry looked at the shed for a few moments. "I'd best get on with it then," she said absently.

As she left the house, Sam came to the door. "Mrs Makepeace," she called. Harry turned back. "I just remembered, I heard this noise like a really big car, probably a van, actually. Just in case that's helpful…"

Harry smiled reassuringly, even though Sam couldn't see it. "I'm sure that will be helpful. I'll see you soon, alright?"

"Goodbye," Sam replied, and as she shut the door Harry turned to get back into her car. She frowned as she drove along, pondering the possible presence of the van. Had it been there or not? And had the occupants been part of the attack or simply bystanders? Surely, she thought, if they had been witnesses they would have come forwards by now. Or perhaps they had, but Jack hadn't been told?

Harry drove past the sign proclaiming it was the road she wanted. She parked up 50 yards down the road and got out.

She walked along the road the same way Sam had, picturing the shopping bag swinging from her hand, the dog trotting at her feet. She scanned the dirty brick walls, the grey pavement, the small, grubby shops for clues.

Harry stopped as she saw a cul-de-sac; in itself it was unremarkable, but there were wide black tyre marks on the ground. After returning briefly to her car to retrieve a measuring tape, she took down the exact width and length of them. It meant nothing to her, but she was quite sure a garage or more likely somebody at the police station would be able to give her an idea of the size and speed of the vehicle.

Harry looked thoughtfully at the tyre tracks, following their assumed yet invisible path away from the high street. She could see no evidence of an attack on this side of the road, so she crossed it and searched the other side. Almost immediately, she noticed a stain on the wall.

"So this is where Sam hit her head…" she murmured to herself. She guessed the height from the ground, tested its likelihood of being the right place by leaning backwards as though falling, and squinted at it to see if it was the right colour. It did indeed seem to be the right place.

Crouching down, she scanned the floor thoroughly. What was that? A few black hairs clinging to a nail that had been protruding out of the brickwork. The dog must have brushed against it, maybe scratched itself.

After a short conversation with the rather baffled owner of the shop that the nail had been in the wall of, Harry obtained both permission and a hammer to knock the nail out of the wall and into the bag the shop owner - a middle-aged, balding man - was holding open for her.

"That's great, thank you very much," she said politely. "Now Mr White, there was a girl who was attacked here by a dog on Tuesday 22nd, last month. Did you see or hear anything unusual?"

"Tuesday 22nd…" Mr White repeated in a thoughtful voice. "No, I'm sorry, I was at a wedding. Friend of the wife's, you know."

Disappointed, Harry nodded. "Right, thank you. And, thanks again for your help."

Though she asked every one of them, Harry was soon to find that none of the other occupants of the road were any more helpful. Some had been out, some busy, some simply hadn't heard anything. Feeling downcast, she made her way to the forensics lab at the police station.

The tyre measurements were accepted without question, and her old friend was happy to pass them on to someone who could do something with them. The hairs, however, were another matter.

"You want me to do an expensive, reserved for important cases like murder and rape - and did I mention expensive - DNA test on a dog?!"

Harry could understand his incredulity; after all, it was a fairly new process, and - as he had stressed - it was expensive.

"Do it for me," she begged. "As a personal favour."

"That's all very well Harriet, but where's the money going to come from?"

"I'll pay," she said immediately.

"You'll pay?" He sounded surprised.

"Of course." She watched him as he searched for the jest in her eyes. Finding none, he sighed.

"Fine. I know it must be important, or you wouldn't ask. I must be mad. I'll call you in a few days, when I have the results for you."

"A few days?" she asked, disappointed.

"Usually it takes much longer," he said pointedly.

Harry grimaced apologetically. "Thank you. I'll bring the other dog's stuff over tomorrow."

"This is going to be very difficult, you know. If there's no blood on this it'll be virtually useless."

"Just do your best with it." She looked at him sincerely as she said: "Thank you."

She couldn't get thoughts of the test out of her mind all the way to Dempsey's. When she arrived, he seemed to be watching her closely. She was sure it was because of the phone call the night before, but it still made her feel self-conscious.

She drove the two of them to the casino, after Dempsey had ensured that she was wearing the ring. He lounged casually in the passenger seat, his right arm leaning on her seat; every time she changed gear, his fingers brushed her upper arm and, as though they were completing a circuit, she felt a slight shock each time.

Has he always done that, or have I only just noticed? she asked herself, not at all sure. She tried to tell herself she wasn't deliberately changing gear.

--

I'm not convinced there was very good DNA testing in D&M's time, but I googled it and it seems there would have been something available for them. I'm very sorry for the delay in this coming... I'm afraid exams and revision have rather taken over my life over the last few months.