Chapter 2

Dempsey stood with his hand on the squad room door. Squaring his shoulders, he pushed open the door and walked through. Glancing around he saw Harry sitting at her desk, alone.

He sauntered over and rested a hip on the edge of her desk. "How you doing, partner?"

Harry turned her head towards him and looked at him coolly. "What took you so long? We missed you."

"Sure you did." Dempsey took out a cigar and looked around for a lighter. He half-hoped Harry would offer him a light but she remained still in her chair and eventually he found a box of matches in a pocket. He lit the cigar then waved the match to put it out, squinting at Harry through the smoke. He caught a glimpse of an unusual expression on her face, almost hurt-looking, before her features settled back.

"We wanted to debrief you."

"Someone wants to do some debriefing," Dempsey muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Where is the Sundance Kid anyway?"

Harry scowled, but at the sound of the door she turned and Dempsey watched her face light up as Simmons walked through. "Dempsey, great, you're back!" Simmons said, pulling over a chair and settling himself down alongside Harry. He sent a warm smile in Harry's direction then turned towards Dempsey. "Went well earlier, we think. Makepeace and I have been planning what to do next. Love to pick your brains."

Dempsey tensed his jaw for a moment, then took a deep breath. He was about to launch into his idea for the next phase of the operation when Spikings strode through the doors. "Dempsey!" he called. "Get yourself over to SI-4. They're complaining about your evidence in that building society blag. Sort it out before I have to do it for you, there's a good chap."

Dempsey pointed towards Harry and Simmons and said, "I just gotta – "

"Now, Dempsey," said Spikings, in a voice that brooked no dissent, so Dempsey lifted himself off Harry's desk, shrugged on his jacket and headed out. As he was leaving he saw Simmons drag his chair a bit closer to Harry's, leaning across her to point to something on her desk.

~ o ~

It took Dempsey nearly an hour to unravel SI-4's snarl-up with the building society evidence and by the end of it his temper was frayed. He was happy to escape back to his own team but as he walked along the corridor towards the SI-10 squad room he bumped into Chas, who gave him an uncomfortable look as he pushed through the squad room doors.

His eyes automatically went to Harry's desk. He opened his mouth in greeting but closed it again when he saw the way she was leaning towards Simmons, her chin resting on one hand, her other hand resting on his arm. She was laughing about something and he was smiling and raising his eyebrows in reply. Dempsey went to sit at his own desk, frowning to himself.

He tried not to overhear their conversation but the squad room was small and Harry and Simmons were in high spirits. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry's hand move from Simmons' thigh to her throat, where she toyed with a sapphire pendant she wore on a silver chain.

"That is a beautiful necklace, Sergeant Makepeace," said Simmons. "The stone matches your eyes."

"Why thank you, Sergeant Simmons-Robinson," Harry replied, a playful lilt to her voice that Dempsey wasn't familiar with. "And I'm rather a fan of your cufflinks," she said, reaching over to touch near his wrist. "Although if these rubies ever match your eyes I think I'll be calling the doctor!"

Simmons laughed and Dempsey slid his drawer closed with more force than strictly necessary. Simmons said to Harry, "I think we're about done for the day. Would you care to join me for a drink? There's a fabulous new cocktail bar just off the Strand, if you fancy it?"

Dempsey was still looking for something on his desk so didn't see Harry send a questioning glance his way. By the time he could bring himself to look up, he saw Simmons holding the door open for Harry then following her through. He wiped a hand across his face and let his shoulders slump. He caught the eye of Fry, who was staring at him from across the room. "What you looking at?" he snapped, then pulled on his jacket, picked up his car keys and drove himself home.

~ o ~

Next morning, Harry was out of the squad room giving evidence in court and Simmons was back in SI-7 briefing his own guv. Dempsey told himself to enjoy the peace and quiet and set to work finishing the filing from the fraud case. He took a break at lunch time, wandering around near the river with his hotdog. He thought about Harry's sapphire necklace and how much he admired the way it shone at her throat. He'd noticed that she often wore it when she went to meet her father. He'd also noticed that her mother was wearing the same necklace in a photo that was kept in a silver frame at Winfield Hall, so he figured the necklace must be pretty special to Harry. But he'd never talked to Harry about her necklace or how much he thought it suited her. He'd never asked her whether wearing the necklace made her feel closer to her mother. He hadn't because – Well, he just hadn't. He bunched up the hotdog wrapper and threw it in a dustbin.

When he arrived back at the squad room he found Simmons and Harry back as well and talking together. "Dempsey," called Harry. "Progress."

Dempsey dumped his jacket on his desk and went over to join them. Simmons said, "I got a call earlier from Lefevre, setting up the meeting with Alexi Fedorov. It's on. They'll pick us up on Thursday night and take us to the warehouse, show us the goods and take our cash."

"Doesn't leave us a lot of time," said Dempsey. "You and Harry going to carry on being Mr and Mrs Smyth?"

Harry nodded. "But we'll need you as well. People like the Smyths wouldn't travel without some sort of backup. You can be our bodyguard."

Dempsey ran his fingers through his hair. "It'd be helpful if we knew where they were planning to hand over the goods," he said. "We could recce the place and make sure there's uniform there for the take-down." He tapped his fingers against the desktop for a moment, thinking.

Harry turned her head towards Dempsey and sent him a questioning look. "Lefevre kept the details of the meet pretty close to his chest," she said.

After a pause, Dempsey said, "Got a hunch." He glanced at Harry, knowing that usually this was something they'd chase down together, but Simmons was pulling out a sheaf of paper that he said was background briefing on Fedorov. Dempsey ignored her slightly pleading look and headed out on his own.

It took Dempsey much longer than he'd expected to track down his snout, but eventually he found him in a bar in Bethnall Green. It cost him a couple of twenties and a double scotch but his snout was able to give him details on the location of the Russian art warehouse. It was late, but Dempsey drove straight to Harry's to give her the head's up.

He pulled up in front of Harry's place and smiled when he saw the downstairs lights were still on. He bounced up the stairs and banged on the front door then pressed the doorbell as well. It was only a moment before Harry opened the door, her face widening into a bright, lopsided smile at the sight of him.

"Dempsey!" she said happily. She reached out and dragged him by his lapel into the hallway.

"Whao, Harry!" said Dempsey, smiling. He saw that she held a large wineglass loosely between her fingers and that it was nearly empty. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were soft. Her hair looked less together than normal, slightly mussy, and he liked it. He smiled at her, nodded at the glass. "Can I get one of whatever you're having?"

"Yes, yes, yes," said Harry, taking Dempsey's hand and pulling him into the kitchen. There was an empty bottle of wine on the work surface, with a second bottle next to it which Harry picked up. She looked around for a wine glass then shrugged and picked up a tumbler instead, emptying the contents of the second bottle into it. She handed the tumbler to Dempsey with a grin.

"Cheers," said Dempsey, enjoying the sight of Harry bustling clumsily around her kitchen, flushed and happy. He took a sip from the glass, his gaze stuck firmly on her as she opened a bag of peanuts into a bowl. Dempsey went to her to take the bowl and she smiled up at him, taking a peanut and holding it up in front of this face. Dempsey grinned and took the peanut into his mouth, his lips brushing her fingers, a wave of pleasure washing through him.

Dempsey's eyes roved across Harry's face, her eyes, her lips, and he found himself leaning closer towards her, breathing in her scent.

It took him a moment to realise the sound he heard was that of the kitchen door clicking open. He straightened up and turned his head to see Simmons coming towards them, waving an empty wineglass at Harry. "Where have you been?" he said to Harry, laughing. "Thirsty out there. Oh, hi Dempsey. What brings you here?"

Dempsey stared at Simmons for a moment, then gave his head a small shake to clear it. "Oh, um, a work thing," he said. Turning to Harry he said, "Didn't realise you had company. It can wait til tomorrow."

"No," said Harry, "stay. We finished talking about work but we can start again, since it's you." She offered him another peanut but he gently pushed her hand back down.

"Not tonight, Princess."

She pouted up at him, a small frown between her brows. "Well, at least finish your drink."

"Yes!" said Simmons. "I'm sure we can find another bottle from somewhere." He began opening the cabinets, looking for a bottle, looking very at home.

Dempsey swallowed away the tightness that was twisting around in his gut. He gulped down the rest of his wine and set the glass on the counter. "Gotta go, Angel."

As he turned to leave he felt Harry's hand on his arm. "Please stay, Dempsey," she said, "we've hardly seen you these last few days." Her eyes were warm on his and the feel of her hand on his arm was heavy. He felt himself falling, then heard Simmons clearing his throat quietly. He pulled his arm free.

"Night then," he said. "Catch up tomorrow." And with a vague wave that encompassed both Harry and Simmons he left.

Dempsey drove fast back to his flat, fiddling with the radio dial until he found some loud music that would distract him from his thoughts. As he let himself into his place he saw the laundry still waiting to be put in the wardrobe, the washing up still on the draining board, the fridge that contained nothing but beer and milk, and he wasn't confident about the milk. He felt restless, angry, and thought about calling one of the girls he knew, someone who might be able to make him feel better. He mentally ran through his address book but it was no use, there wasn't anyone else he wanted to see right now.

He took a beer from the fridge then went through his flat putting things into place, so that by the time he got into bed he felt that he'd achieved some sort of order. He rolled onto his side, looking at the empty space next to him. Closed his eyes to stop himself picturing Harry's bed. Didn't think about whether or not she also had an empty space tonight.