Author's note: all usual disclaimers apply.


The three officers stared at the body lying on the old dock at Tilbury. Detective Inspector Tommy Lynley knelt beside the young man who had been bludgeoned to death with unnecessary violence. "This is my fault."

"No, Sir, it's not," his sergeant, Barbara Havers, replied. "Constable Beattie knew the risks. He must have tried to stop Campbell leaving."

Tommy nodded. "We were too late. I'm sorry we let you down, Beattie."

The ambulance siren filled the silence with a discordant clanging. A paramedic rushed to the body but quickly shook his head. "Anyone else injured?"

"No," DC Winston Nkata said, shaking his head.

They waited until the body was removed before they began searching for evidence. Nothing was apparent, but Tommy called for a forensic team to double check. The mastermind of the drug ring had seemingly escaped on a private speedboat. It was a rare failure for the squad, and it hurt.

"Anyone for the pub?" Nkata asked as they drove back to the city.

Tommy shook his head. "Not for me."

"Nah, sorry Winston. I'm out too," Barbara added.

Winston shrugged. "I don't feel like going home yet. I might catch up with some of Beattie's mates. They're at the Golden Fleece. Everyone keeps texting me to see what happened."

"Stick to the facts, Winston, but leave out the fine details," Lynley warned, "we owe that to his family."

"Sure."

Tommy dropped Winston near the pub. "You could have gone with him."

Barbara stared out of the passenger window. "I know."

He felt he needed to explain. "I wasn't in the mood to be with others."

"I know."

His sergeant seemed unusually introspective. "Are you okay, Barbara?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Not really," he admitted. "I feel responsible."

"You're not."

"That doesn't make it feel any better. Do you want me to drop you home?"

"Not yet. I don't fancy sitting looking at four walls."

Tommy was perplexed. Barbara did not sound quite right. "Have you changed your mind about getting a drink?"

"No, a pub is too full of life."

Tommy did not want to return to the office. There was very little they could do until the morning. Fortunately, he did not have to inform Beattie's sister. Her husband was in the force and had elected to tell her. Tommy would have to visit tomorrow, but tonight he would let her grieve. He looked over at his sergeant. She was trying hard not to look upset. Trying far too hard. "I have a nice bottle of single malt if you'd care to share it with me."

Barbara looked at him as if deciding. She shook her head. "Thanks. I should..." Barbara paused. "Yeah, why not?"


Barbara thumped onto his sofa with a grateful grunt. Tommy grabbed the decanter and two glasses. He poured two generous drinks before he sat in his chair opposite his guest. He watched Barbara carefully. She had skolled her first drink, poured another, and was now on her third. "Are you trying to get drunk?"

Her face darkened. "Yes."

"I see."

"No, not really. It's just..." She shrugged then took a long sip of her drink.

"Tell me," he said softly.

"It's Beattie. I keep seeing his face. I'm the one who talked him into going undercover. If anyone's responsible for this mess, it's me."

Tommy moved across to the sofa and sat beside her. He put his arm around her shoulder. "It's not your fault. I sent him out there."

"It's not your fault either." Barbara looked up. "It's not just that."

"Then what?"

"I'm a bad person."

"Nuh," Tommy guffawed and shook his head. "No, you're not."

"Yeah, I am." Barbara shook off his arm then stood and walked over to the window. She stared out into the darkness. "I kept looking at him. I couldn't help but be glad it was him."

Tommy frowned. Barbara liked Beattie. "I don't understand."

She turned. Her eyes were brimming with unwept tears. "Because if it was him, it wasn't you."

Tommy put his glass on the table and walked over to her. He took her glass and placed it on his piano. "Barbara, look at me."

She looked up. "Don't say it. I know it's stupid."

"You're not a bad person, just human. I was relieved it wasn't you too. That time you were shot... that was the worst feeling..." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Her body moulded against his in a way that felt as if embracing her was why his body was made. Wet tears soaked his shirt. He pulled her closer and stroked her back.

"I'm sorry, Tommy."

He smiled. It broadened when her head jerked back and her eyes opened wide with shock. His name had obviously slipped out from behind her barricades. It was enough for him to risk doing what he had thought about for months, even years. He bent down and kissed her.

At first, Barbara froze. She stopped breathing and she went rigid. He was mentally preparing his apology when her arms snaked around his waist. He sighed and groaned in a weirdly satisfying exhalation before kissing her again. This time Barbara reciprocated with enthusiastic vigour. Their lips began to tug at each other before they slowly found a rhythm and pace that made blood pound in his ears. "Oh..."

"Mmm."

Their next kiss awakened feelings, physical and spiritual, that he thought were long behind him. As their tongues slowly twisted around each other, Tommy's body tightened in a way that was almost painful. His hand ran up her back and into her hair. He cradled her head as he kissed her harder and deeper as if his body was trying to crawl inside hers. At the same time, a warmth spread through him as if she was inside him. He slowly edged her back towards the sofa.


Barbara woke to the smell of fresh coffee. She smiled then remembered where she was and what she had done. She pulled that sheet up to cover her exposed breasts. "Oh, good... shit, shit, shit!"

When she rolled over, her neck and back ached. She and Tommy had slept clinging tightly to each other. Her lips felt swollen and other parts of her were painfully tender. If this is what a night of sex did for you, she was better off without it.

Fearing Tommy would return to the bed, Barbara got up and found his ensuite. She toileted, then washed her face. Her clothes were strewn around the bedroom. The jumper she had worn was missing but she remembered that was removed downstairs. She dressed quickly before carefully opening the door. No one was there waiting to ambush her. She crept down the stairs. Tommy was whistling in the kitchen as he rustled about. Was that bacon she could smell? This nightmare got worse. He was cooking breakfast for her. She sighed; he was such a wonderful man. As much as it touched her, it frightened her even more. She groaned then snuck into the lounge room. Her jumper was on the floor beside the sofa. She grabbed it then tiptoed down the hall to his hatstand. Pulling on her shoes and jacket as fast as she could, she took one last look back towards the kitchen and the man she loved beyond measure. "I'm sorry, Tommy."