A,N: I'm keeping the chapters kind of short, between about 1500 and 1700 words, because I don't want to give everything away all at once. I hope you don't mind that! Thanks to those who have read and reviewed so far.

Sarah x

It was in the home of Georgina Toley that Sandra was able to fully understand the magnitude of the task she had undertaken. Even Georgina, who was one of Jocelyn's closest friends, knew very little about the woman's life. All she seemed to know was the obvious – that Jocelyn was American and that she had multiple sclerosis.

"Is there anything, anything," emphasised Sandra, keeping her voice gentle, "you remember that might help find her? Even the tiniest thing?"

Georgina was silent, and Sandra could tell that she really was trying to recall every encounter, every conversation, she had with Jocelyn. "Not really," Georgina sighed, pushing her blonde fringe out of her eyes. "She's a very private person. She won't even say how she ended up living here. I've never heard her talk of any family whatsoever. As much as I love Jocelyn to bits, and as much as it frustrates me sometimes, I've learned to accept that there are things she won't discuss."

It didn't escape Sandra's notice that Georgina referring to Jocelyn in the present tense, like she was still there, or was just away on holiday. But there seemed to be no real trace of acceptance that there was a chance Jocelyn may never be traced, or that she might not even have survived these eight months. Georgina, it seemed, did not even want to acknowledge that as a possibility. It was a classic case of denial.; it did nobody any good, particularly Jocelyn. But, despite her refusal to accept the reality in front of her, there was no doubt in Sandra's mind that Georgina was being entirely truthful.

"Is there anywhere in the country you think she would've wanted to run to?" Gerry pressed; he was irritating, yes, but even Sandra could not deny he was a good detective. "Any place she's talked about?"

"Her whole life is here, in London." Georgina's face was puzzled, and Sandra sat up a little straighter, hoping and praying the woman had recalled something useful. "Jocelyn did say something about a life insurance policy she set up, about three years ago. I never could figure out who the beneficiary is meant to be. I know it isn't me or Kath, but she hasn't mentioned anyone it might be. Although, I overheard her talking to someone on the phone, and she is the beneficiary for their policy."

Now that was something to go on. Money was always a prime motive for crime. The difference here was it was likely to have been mutual policies, each one ensuring the other was to be looked after once one of them died. It implied that, contrary to the findings of the original investigation, there was someone on this planet with whom Jocelyn Sharpe was close – very close indeed. Close enough to leave behind a great deal of money should anything happen to her. But who?

It was with these questions that they left Georgina's home; though they had a lead, it was a vague one, and it still may have had anything at all to do with Jocelyn's disappearance. On the other hand, though, it could have had everything to do with whatever went on.

"I don't get it," Gerry finally admitted, breaking the silence in the car. "She didn't have any reason to do a runner, by the look of it. Nobody would want to kidnap her, either."

"Maybe," Sandra slowly began, "it's something to do with the MS. Maybe it got worse and she needs full time care, and didn't tell anyone."

He turned to her, and she felt his eyes staring into the side of her head, which was distracting when she was trying to drive. Really, Gerry Standing was a constant distraction. His antics had, more than once, antagonised, infuriated and amused her simultaneously. She didn't know how he managed to be so frustrating without any effort. "Now, there's a thought. What if she went into a residential place and just vanished quietly?"

"Then she was pretty inconsiderate," she replied, her tone harsh and strict.

"Look at it from her side, Sandra," urged Gerry. He was being unusually gentle, especially given the mood he had been in all day, up until now. "Imagine you're dying, and you've got no family to help you, and you just want to live what time you've got in peace."

Sandra thought on it for a moment. Only one of those statements did not already apply to her. She already had no family – discounting her elderly and somewhat challenging mother – and she wanted to live in peace. "If I were dying, I think I would tell you, Gerry. I think I would want to have a few people there, and I wouldn't just run from them and leave them to wonder what the bloody hell happened to me." Aloud, it sounded like logic, to her, in that dire situation. It sounded like decency and kindness and loyalty and love. It truly was what Sandra would want and what she would do. But she felt Gerry staring at her again, and so turned to face him only briefly. "What?"

"Would you really tell me?" he asked of her.

"Of course." To her surprise, she didn't even hesitate with her answer. "Would you tell me if you were dying?"

Gerry did hesitate. Initially, he didn't even answer her question. And it was then that she understood a part of him that she had never been able to fully appreciate. They had talked, even joked, about their funeral arrangements, but when it came to the actual process of dying, Gerry would want to protect her from having to watch his ultimate downfall. Whether it was out of gallantry or cowardice, or a mixture of the two, she was unsure, but she believed his silence.

And then he spoke. "I don't think I could."

"I would want to know." It was his choice, and she would never be able to control his decisions – she would never want to – but she wanted him to know she would have wanted to know if there was something seriously amiss. She was his friend. She would complain about Gerry until the cows came home, but the bottom line was that Gerry did mean a lot to her. "Just remember it, won't you?"

She glanced around and saw his slight smile; it was enough to make her accept uncertainties and focus on discovering the details of the case.

When they returned to Scotland Yard, to their squad room, they found Jack and Brian there already. They had been speaking to Katherine Black, and they relayed to Sandra a story similar to what she had encountered with Georgina Toley. Katherine knew Jocelyn but knew little about her life before moving to London. That usually meant one of two things: either their life had been very quiet and uneventful, or there was something worth hiding. When it was the latter issue, all hell tended to break loose.

This level of secrecy, from one person, was not normal, nor was it healthy. Yes, Sandra was a private person herself, but there were things she talked about with her boys or her mother. Jocelyn refused to confide even in her friends. It made her wonder what was worth blocking everyone out, when they obviously cared for the woman.

Brian seemed thoughtful; he still hadn't given up the idea that he knew Jocelyn's face. Although Jack had been quick to dismiss it, Sandra was more cautious; the more she pushed him, though, the longer it would take him to remember it. Her plan was to relaunch the public campaign to find this woman, in the hope that someone, somewhere, had an idea as to where to find her.

That could wait until the morning. For now, it was well past five o'clock, and the rest of her team had lives outside of work that they wanted to get on with. "OK, guys," she sighed. "We'll call it a night just now."

The men didn't need told twice – they were up and gone like they had springs up their backsides. It left her to pack her things up and head home, only because they had hit a wall with the investigation that she could not get past yet. The information she did have was racing around in her head, failing to make much sense. She had little choice but to head for her car.

It was when she was leaving the building that a man took to her pace, striding next to her. Sandra glanced at him; he had a balding head, was well into middle age, wore a suit and was fairly short, for a man. "Can I help you?" she politely asked him.

"You're looking for Jocelyn Sharpe," he answered her. He was American.

"How do you know?" Sandra demanded. "UCOS has only been investigating for about five hours, for Christ's sake!"

The man chuckled slightly. "A Robert Strickland called us yesterday, asking if we could assist you in any way, should you launch another search for Ms. Sharpe." Damn it. Strickland. She should have known. "Officially, the FBI can't help you. I can tell you that you could be about to kick one hell of a hornets' nest, though."

"Oh, thanks," she rolled her eyes. "Who the hell are you, anyway?"

He stopped walking, and so did she. To Sandra, this man seemed to be nothing but trouble, and she didn't want to give him the upper hand should he prove to be untrustworthy. He dug into his jacket pocket for something, causing Sandra's senses to heighten in case he pulled something dangerous out. However, it was only a badge.

"Special Agent Tobias Fornell. FBI."

Please feel free to drop a review and tell me what you think!
Sarah x