"When did you last see Brendan?" Nikki comments.

"Four, five weeks ago." Daniel answers. "When he stopped coming, I called in case his health had deteriorated. No joy on two numbers he put on his registration form."

"Can you describe him? Got a photo?" I ask hopefully. This could save Nikki's reputation.

"40-ish, close-cropped hair. Six foot." Daniel informs us. "No photo, sorry."

"But he completed a registration form, yeah?" I add excitedly. Nikki could be off the hook. "We'll need to examine it for prints and DNA."

Nikki suddenly doesn't seem as enthusiastic as me about our new evidence and once we're in the car, I find out why.

"He sounds a lot like Scott, that's all." She remarks, unhappily. Oh, Nikki – you do know how to pick them!

"Short hair, six foot. Sounds like half my mates!" I reason, trying my best to reassure her. "How did you two get back in touch?" I ask – my mind going back to when she arrived at the Max Walsh scene – seemingly happy about the reunion.

"We ran into each other in the street."

"And who saw who first?"

"He saw me."

This is starting to sound planned – but it could be a coincidence. Though with Nikki's history...

"Is there any animosity between you? Any reason he'd want to hurt you?" I'm beginning to dislike this bloke.

"We broke up over a decade ago." She retorts.

"And who did the breaking? You?" I kind of know the answer to this one.

She sighs. "We were supposed to be going around the world. Last minute, I bailed."

As I thought. "How did he take that?" I comment.

"It's hard to say." She answers. "Three days later, he was gone."

I think back to her lunch date before she got arrested – when he answered her phone. I really don't like Scott, but I need to put my feelings aside. My only concern at present is Nikki's peace of mind.

"Scott has nothing to do with this." I state confidently, analysing my best friend – I know her so well. "This is your subconscious fear of commitment casting a big old shadow on the wall, giving you justification to shrink away."

"I don't shrink!" She exclaims in protest.

"Yeah, and you're not scared of relationships either!" I chuckle, shaking my head.

"I think you should stick to putting things in plastic bags!" she retorts, indignantly – knowing that I've described the her perfectly.

"How rude." I remark, teasing her. Jokes aside though, I need to reassure myself – and her, that her theory of it being Scott is wrong.

Please let it be wrong.

"Reassure me on one thing." I state. "You haven't discussed the case with Scott." She doesn't answer. "Nikki?" I prod.

"Yes, I have."

I sigh. "Well, who started that conversation?"

"He did."

"But did he actively needle you for information – or ask to see the file?" Feel free to say 'No' any time, Nikki.

"Yes, both."

I sigh again. This is not looking good.

"And he asked after Belinda Roach as well. Before she was killed." Nikki adds.

"Brilliant!" I remark. No, this is not looking good, but I set out to reassure Nikki – and so far I haven't. I can feel the anxiety radiating off her. I swallow. Clear head, Jack. "Ok, if we pull Brendan's DNA from the form, and get a match, we can eliminate Scott straight away, put your mind at rest, yeah?" I suggest.

She's quiet for a minute. "I don't know." She mutters. "Maybe I just need some sleep."

"Yeah, now you're making sense." I agree. "Well, I'll get the form from Daniel, and we'll catch up first thing in the morning, right?"

"Thanks, Jack." She murmurs.

I glance at her. Her eyes are closed and I'm overcome with fondness for her.

"Don't dribble on my seats." I comment affectionately. I feel her smile in response to my teasing. I'm so glad to have her trust – to be the one she relies on to sort this mess out for her.

I can't imagine how things would have turned out if I hadn't met Nikki Alexander.

I go straight back to Daniel to get the form, after dropping Nikki off home – with strict instructions to go to bed. Then it's back to the Lyell to run tests. I could do with some proper sleep myself – having already spend last night here – and the early hours asleep most uncomfortably on my desk, but this can't wait. Nikki needs to know. I need to know.

I try all sorts to deprive myself of the much needed slumber – I pace about restlessly and make myself coffee after coffee. Being so late, Clarissa has long gone, but Thomas is in his office, having chosen to stay and catch up on paperwork. He was surprised to see me back, but he doesn't question me until he hears me pacing about for the fifth time.

"Jack, what's going on? You should be at home."

"So should you." I point out, before I can stop myself.

"Ok." He agrees. "That's a fair point, but I didn't sleep here last night – and the question still stands."

"We went back to the church and talked to the man who ran the support group that Walsh attended." I explain. "Nikki had this crazy idea that another member of the group could have befriended him at the meetings and gone on to kill - and then frame her. Anyway," I sigh. "It turns out that it wasn't such a crazy idea. There was another member who fits the description – and has now mysteriously 'disappeared' from the group – apparently untraceably so."

"Brendan Dalglish?" Thomas comments, squinting at the form.

"Yes."

"Ok, Jack." He nods. "But couldn't this have waited until tomorrow?"

"No." I insist. "Because Nikki's worried that 'Brendan' fits the description of Scott."

"The ex-boyfriend she's just re-acquainted herself with?"

"Yes – one who very conveniently 'bumped' into her in the street – and showed great interest in this case. Plus..." I continue. "They split up because Nikki decided at short notice that she'd rather work under Belinda Roach than go away with him."

"Oh." Thomas scratches his head. "It could just be coincidental, Jack."

"It could" I agree. "But I can put Nikki's mind at rest – and with her history..." I add. "I kind of need to know too."

"Where is our fair-haired colleague?"

"I sent her home."

Thomas sighs. "I suppose there's no point in me 'sending' you home?"

"None at all." I answer. "I'm going to make some coffee, do you want one?"

"Again?" He retorts. "You've had three already!"

"Well, it helps." I shrug. "Do you want some?"

"No, I'm ok, thank you, Jack." He chuckles. "If you ever do get home, you'll be up for the rest of the night going to the loo!"

Thanks for that, Thomas.

Nikki

I ignore Jack's instructions to go straight to bed, instead choosing to do my own investigating. I invite Scott over.

"Everything ok?" He asks when he arrives.

"Yeah, long day." I answer vaguely. I'm not going to admit that I've been locked up – if he is guilty, I don't want him to know that I've been proved innocent of the crimes I was arrested for. Innocent to the people who matter anyway.

Rankin won't believe I'm innocent until she's been handed the killer on a platter – and I intend to do just that.

Anyway, it's better to catch Scott unawares.

"Do you have any other kind?" He remarks.

"Have a seat. Drink?" I offer -putting my plan into action.

"Er, yeah."

I reach for the bottle of wine on the counter. Despite the act of defiance I have planned, I'm not mean enough to just offer plain water, but that's all he wants. There's slight atmosphere – and I can't decide whether I'm creating it. Does he suspect? I mean, I did accuse him of following me earlier – and I've suddenly invited him over quite late - and under false pretences. Not that he knows that.

"You know what? Water's fine. It's been a long day, too. You know, going through Mum's stuff."

"Sure." I feel a slight flicker of guilt at the reminder of his personal circumstances at the moment, but I have to admit that it doesn't last for long. He still lied to me – and a lot of things don't add up, or rather, they do, in the worst possible way.

I go to the tap and fill a glass with water. He comes up behind me and makes me jump – which doesn't help the situation at all.

"Funny, I had you down as strictly bottled water."

"Oh, I was." I agree. "And then I wasn't"

He sips the water. "People change." He comments.

"I've got some ice if it's not cold enough." I offer.

He shrugs, draining the glass. "It's water. How bad can it be?...What's the matter, Nikki?" He adds suddenly, in an accusing tone.

I realise to my horror that I've been staring at the glass he's just put down. My DNA sample.

"Nothing." I answer quickly.

"You said. Long day." He remarks, turning to wash his glass – thereby destroying my DNA sample.

"What are you doing?" I ask a little to hysterically – and immediately follow it up with "I mean, just leave it in the sink. It's fine." in an attempt to cover my mistake – but it's too late. I've given myself away.

"Why did you ask me over, Nikki?"

"I wanted to see you."

"No." He tells me. "No, you didn't. You want something, but it's not that."

He's quite right. I want his DNA.

I guess I've got no choice. "Belinda Roach is dead." I state. "Murdered."

But not by me.

Apparently, he doesn't know that I suspect him yet – or maybe he's just a good actor.

"Well, that's...terrible. I'm sorry."

I have to know now. I have to. "Did you really blame her for us breaking up?"

I can see the realisation dawning on him. Here we go.

"You are unbelievable." He snaps at me. He glances down at the glass. "You want my DNA, don't you? You don't trust me."

Why should I? You lied.

"Well, like you said, people change." I retort.

"You know, it's a small wonder you wound up working with dead people. They can't feel or answer back, or make a claim on you. But it's a rigged, one-sided relationship..."

I can't stand it any longer. He still hasn't answered my question. "Did you kill Belinda Roach?!"

He picks up the glass and spits in it. "No." Then he storms out - not that I can blame him.

"Scott!" I yell at his retreating back. "Scott!" He doesn't even look back, but before I can decide what to do, my phone rings.

Jack

Nikki sounds even more agitated than she did earlier. I'm glad I'm ringing her – though it's not exactly to give her 'good' news. It is – and it isn't.

"Hello?"

"Nikki, the prints on the form are not Scott's," I tell her as Thomas appears in his office doorway to listen. "They belong to a convicted killer called Carmichael."

"What...?"

"Does that mean anything to you?" I press her. "William Carmichael?"

"No, nothing." She answers

Thomas mouths at me to put the phone on speaker.

Nikki

"You sure? He was a heavy-duty gun-for-hire back in the 90s. Gang related stuff in Essex and east London. Suspected of a dozen kills, but only convicted of one." Jack explains.

"Yeah, I'm sure." I tell him. This is bad – someone really wants me dead.

"Well, he's involved somehow, which means you're not safe."

At this point there's a knock at the door. I gasp because having just been informed that a professional hit-man is probably after me, I'm terrified and I don't dare to open the door. It could be Scott coming back, but given how we left things a few minutes ago, I very much doubt it is him. On the other hand, if its a trained hit-man who's coming to kill me, would he knock on the door?

I suppose he might. An unsuspecting woman on her own opens the door – and bang. She'd have no chance. But that's her, not me – so I wait.

Nikki?" Jack says down the phone. He must have heard me gasp – and/or the knock that came before the gasp. "Nikki!" He repeats when I don't answer.

I still don't answer. I guess part of me is hoping that whoever it is will decide I'm not here, and leave. If it's Carmichael, that's unlikely. He was probably watching my flat – lying in wait for when I got home, but then Scott arrived. He undoubtedly waited for Scott to leave again.

"Nikki?!" Jack yells a third time.

And then the wait is over.

Jack

We hear the knock at the door and Nikki's gasp, so we're very concerned when she subsequently goes quiet - and rightly so, because after I yell her name down the phone for the third time, we hear gunshots and Nikki screaming.

"Nikki! Shit!" I yell, grabbing my coat. Thomas already has Rankin on the phone as we leave the Lyell. If Nikki ran, she might have dropped the phone. It would account for the thud we heard after she screamed. That's what I keep telling myself – it's better than the alternative explanations for the thud. Anyway, I'm keeping the line open, in case she manages to pick up again.

Hopefully, she got away though. Right now, hope is all I've got.

Nikki

It's all such a blur afterwards. I make it out the window and I just keep going. I don't particularly know where. Luckily for me, they're are builders working on my block of flats at moment, so there's scaffolding everywhere and I have time to press the button on the builder's lift, to make him think I'm heading up, when I actually go down. It won't fool him for long, but I need all the time I can get.

I end up in the basement, hiding in a little darkened room. While I crouch in there, it occurs to me that if he looks in here, he will find me.

I just have to hold my breath and hope he doesn't.