Part 3

PJ returned to the CI office from the mess room, to find Amy hanging up the phone on his desk, checking over the notes she had made during the call, a blue pen being twiddled absentmindedly between her fingers.

"Was this mate of your's able to give you anything?" PJ asked as he leant against the door out into the muster room, where Kelly was having a less than friendly conversation with Mark.

Amy nodded and pushed the notepad across the desk to PJ. He stepped forward to grab it and returned to his post at the door as he read over them.

"Serial numbers," PJ observed quietly, "so…"

Amy lowered her head and massaged her temples. "…if we can find the gun that killed the Boss, then we'll have a chance of solving two crimes."

PJ approached her, giving her shoulder a gentle massage. Amy smiled weakly, closing her eyes.

"Guns don't kill people, Amy," he pointed out, "people do. It wasn't a gun that killed the Boss, it was the little bastard on the end of it, he's the one who's responsible."

Amy looked up to PJ, nodding as he gave her shoulder a final squeeze before motioning to the phone. She drew in a shaky breath and grabbed the handset, once again dialling her Organised Crime contact.

"I'll get him to fax over some photos, maybe that'll help," she said, the slightest hint of hope in her voice as she held the phone to her ear while PJ watched on, his mind drifting to where they'll go from here, in both the case and their lives.

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Susie finally returned to her own desk after finally managing to fob Tony Timms off onto Media Liaison, only to find her email alert beeping like crazy. She heaved a heavy sigh as she sat down and opened it up, only to find at least thirty emails from Jonesy sitting expectantly in her inbox, each message's subject sounding more impatient than the last. It seemed that the news of Tom's death had hit the big smoke already.

She rolled her eyes as she quickly checked through the first five before deleting the lot. If Jonesy wanted information, then he could get it himself.

"Bastard," Susie mumbled under her breath as she let her forehead rest against her desk, the action causing Alex to look up at her with a saddened expression on his face.

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Kelly finally broke apart from Joss, using the back of her hand to brush tears away, though it seemed to be like trying to mow a lawn with a pair of nail scissors.

He gently rubbed her back as Kelly sobbed quietly into her hand. He couldn't blame her for reacting the way she was. After all, Tom had been just as much a father to her as her own, not to mention a friend, colleague and mentor.

"This isn't fair," Kelly whispered, her voice strained and barely audible, "he shouldn't be dead. Uncle Tom should still be alive, playing with his grandkids and going off at you!"

Joss looked away momentarily, nodding to himself. Kelly was right. All Tom Croydon had ever done was help people, if there was anything he had done wrong in his life, it was care too much about the people he loved and the colleagues that were like his own kids.

"You…gonna be okay?" Joss queried, knowing instantly that it was a stupid question. Kelly looked up at him pointedly. No, she was not going to be 'okay' any time soon. It was little more than a month out from Christmas and Tom was gone.

But Kelly still nodded silently, closing her eyes and trying to keep her breathing in check. She forced a smile for his sake as she gently pushed past him, heading out to the muster room, probably to apologise. Or else go off at Mark again.

Either way, there was little Joss could do except watch in sadness and Kelly left him standing alone in the mess room, finally realising that life would never be the same again.

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Amy leant against the wall beside the fax machine, staring impatiently at it as if it may suddenly spring into life with some new results from Forensics or her mate in Organised Crime.

"Amy!" She spun at the sound of her name, to find PJ standing in the doorway to their – no, his, she reminded herself sharply – office, motioning to her with his hand. She followed him inside and looked down to the laptop sitting open on his desk with several black and white CCTV images onscreen. "Looks like your mate in Organised Crime came good again," PJ said.

Amy rose her eyebrows in surprise at the pictures as she sat in PJ's seat and scrolled through the email. "I thought he'd fax them through," she said, more to herself than to PJ, "last time I checked, he was computer illiterate."

They stared at the photos in silence, before suddenly PJ thrust a finger at a pale face onscreen.

"I know who that guy is," he pointed out, his voice teeming with surprise, "and he's got a criminal record as long as you could dream of."

PJ grabbed the mouse from Amy's grip and quickly navigated through to LEAP. Amy watched him as he typed in 'Joseph Kenny' and pressed enter. Her eyes widened in shock as she stared at the long list of charges onscreen.

"Oh my God…" Amy whispered to herself. PJ looked at her expectantly for several seconds, thinking she would make another comment, but instead she remained silent.

"We first came into contact with Joe Kenny in 1995, when he was involved in several robberies and organised an attack on a local police officer who was involved with his wife." PJ explained, his mind drifting back as Amy just stared at him blankly in shock. "Early the next year, he escaped from prison and held the same member and a young boy hostage. They both got away relatively uninjured, but the officer was killed later that day when he was hit by a car."

PJ turned away from Amy, causing her to jump slightly. He approached the window out into the muster room and watched his uniformed colleagues absentmindedly. Amy could only watch him as he continued with what was no doubt a difficult topic.

"Constable Wayne Patterson was just like anyone out there – a good copper who should have had his whole life ahead of him. His divorce was about to come through, he had found the girl of his dreams and her kids adored him…he'd just gotten out of the downward spiral after his marriage breakdown." PJ finally turned back to face Amy, his eyes brimming with tears. "Joe Kenny may not have been driving that car, but he is just as responsible for how Wayne died. He's still a cop killer."

Amy nodded understandably as she picked herself up and approached PJ. She reached into her pocket and pulled out something PJ hadn't seen since her second-last night in Mt. Thomas nearly two and a half years ago – the fishy hankie she had used to dry her tears.

PJ took it in surprise and held it to his nose. The slightest of smiles played on his lips. "It still smells like that tuna sandwich," he observed quietly. Amy nodded as she met his eyes cautiously. But when green eyes met blue, she could only look away. PJ watched her as she turned and headed back to the laptop silently, his mind drifting from her second-last night in Mt. Thomas to her last.

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PJ stormed up to the doorway of the Kenny house, through the toys and tricycles lying forgotten in the front yard as Amy jogged along behind. It was a bit of a consolation to him that the place looked better now than it had nearly four years before under Lucy Kenny. Now Ditch was in charge, presumedly, with baby Tarkyn. He'd nearly be starting school now, PJ realised.

He gave the door a loud rap, while Amy looked around in curiosity. She had never been out anywhere near the Kenny property before. The last that the police had seen of the Kenny and Darcy clan was about six months before she arrived in town and although she had heard rumours, that was all she knew about them.

A voice PJ had long forgotten called out from somewhere within the house.

"Piss off, Joe!"

PJ looked back to Amy with a slight smile on his face. Some people just made it too easy. "Ditch, open up, it's the police."

The door creaked open and Ditch Kenny's face appeared in the crack, a young boy wearing an old Superman costume trying desperately to see from behind his legs.

"Hasham," he mumbled, rolling his eyes as he cursed under his breath, "what the hell do you want? I haven't done nothing wrong, I swear."

Ditch went to slam the door shut, but PJ stuck his foot in the gap just in time. Ditch mumbled something probably highly offensive had Amy or PJ heard it and grabbed Tarkyn from the floor behind him.

"If we're gonna do this, can we do it at the station?" Ditch asked, Tarkyn watching on in confusion from his arms. PJ looked at the young boy, letting his mind drift back to the baby that he had told Ditch to bring up properly that night all those years ago.

"If that's what you'd like, sir," Amy replied as she tried to lead Ditch out towards the CI car, but he pulled away.

"I'll be right, thanks," he mumbled, storming off towards it as PJ drew level with her.

"Told you this family's a nut job," PJ said as he followed Ditch to the car, leaving Amy standing alone in the front yard, her mind whirring as it struggled to put everything to do with this case into place.