7: Too Close For Comfort

Amber sat back in the police car as it drove off, and watched Fairview's dark and dilapidated streets recede into the distance. Sensibly, David had refused point-blank to let Kevin drive, which meant a smooth ride home. Kevin had been too tired to argue and was now dozing quietly in the front passenger seat.

The junior officer who had tried to talk Brad down from the roof of the motel was sitting in the back, talking animatedly to David. Amber had never met the man before; she'd only ever seen his signature on forms, Bob Kerr, which had brought to mind the kind of average, friendly middle-aged guy who went bowling every Thursday night with his drinking buddies and never, ever missed a Superbowl or World Series game on TV. Instead he turned out to be an enthusiastic young man with a cheap haircut and the kind of youthful energy that made Amber feel very old indeed.

"So did you catch the game last night?" he was saying. "Did you see DeBrett score that touchdown? Man, I bet the Rose Bay City side wish they'd put up more money for him now, huh?"

"Yeah," agreed David, from the front seat. "Those cheapskates must be kicking themselves now that we've got him on the team. Still, we're not complaining, right?"

"No way. Best touchdown I've ever seen! We probably would have had another one after that if it hadn't been for Katz and Pulowski from the Roses. They got Pullman at the ten-yard line… man, that sucked."

"Pullman's pretty good," said Kevin, who had woken up from his doze at the mention of sport. "Did you see him take down that guy from the other side? It was kind of like that TV show I saw about wildlife in the Serengeti - you know, the bit when the cheetah takes down a whole zebra with one running jump."

"Pullman's no cheetah," said Bob, chuckling. "Maybe he could run like one if he laid off the doughnuts for a while and worked out some more, got that flab off his sorry ass."

"He's a strong guy, though, and he's got real momentum once he gets going," said Kevin.

"Yeah, but that's all he's got," scoffed David. "That big ox ought to be put out to pasture for good so he can make way for the good players."

"I'm thinking maybe they could take Fulton off the reserve bench and put him out for the next game. He's pretty good," said Kevin.

"Fulton?" said Bob in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? Did you even see him play at Greenwood Ridge last month? That's the reason why he's on the reserve bench! He's, like, the last resort in case someone gets injured and everyone else on the bench dies in a freak floodlighting accident, and it's either send in Fulton or forfeit the game! Even then, they'd probably rather forfeit."

"No way, the Sharks never forfeit," said Kevin dismissively.

"You didn't see Coach Gregory sobbing on live television," said Bob darkly. "I don't even know why Fulton's still on the team after that disaster."

"Talking of disasters, I haven't seen Hutz around since he broke his collarbone in the Wolverines game," said David. "Is he still on the injured list?"

"Hutz and Canson," confirmed Bob.

"What? Canson too? What the hell happened to him?" exclaimed Kevin.

"Just had a knee op," said Bob. "Coach says he'll be out for another three games. He won't be back till at least mid-November."

"Man, no wonder we got our asses kicked last night," said Kevin, shaking his head. "We've had bad luck all year."

"Did you guys ever consider that maybe luck isn't involved, and the real reason why the Roses always kick the Sharks' asses is that they're just better at football?" said Amber, raising an eyebrow.

The three men stared at her in incredulity.

"Are you crazy, woman?" said Bob at last. "Of course not! Just you wait until we've got Hutz and Canson back! With them and DeBrett on the team, we'll win next time for sure!"

"Yeah," said Kevin stoutly. "We can do it! What the hell are you talking about anyway, Amb? You don't even watch the football."

"That's because she thinks the Sharks suck," observed David. "But we're doing okay and we'll do better once we get our best players back. And Fielding and Grietz are doing great now that Coach Gregory made them switch. I think Fielding needs to bulk up some more, though."

"Maybe Pullman can give him some of those doughnuts," said Bob, to laughter from David and Kevin.

The conversation gradually turned from sporting matters to more pressing issues, such as which of them still owed David money from the last time they'd gone to J's Bar together after work.

Amber glanced over at Brad, who was still sandwiched between her and Bob; he was staring blankly ahead at the view through the windshield. At first glance he appeared to be perfectly normal - much calmer than anyone who'd just been talked out of committing suicide should have been - but his face was still white and in spite of his brave little smile, there was a look of nervous dread deep in his eyes.

She looked down and saw Brad's hands trembling, then looked up again to see him watching her with wide eyes. The moment her eyes met his, Brad hastily dropped his gaze, a faint flush of pink colouring his pale cheeks.

Amber just smiled kindly and reached over, taking his shaking hands in hers and holding them tight. Brad looked up at her again with a shy, hesitant smile, but still said nothing.

The police car eventually rolled to a halt somewhere near the edge of town. Amber looked out of the window, curious to see where they were now, then started as she saw the one neighbourhood that her mother had always warned her never, ever to live in, no matter how dire her financial circumstances were.

This was the edge of Masefield Park, a particularly nasty low-rent district that even the most hardened veterans of the RPD were reluctant to patrol. Nobody from the precinct went out here without a bulletproof vest and, if possible, full riot gear - and they'd been warned never to go out alone. Parts of downtown could be pretty bad, Amber knew, but even in the rougher neighbourhoods, a cop's badge still carried weight and earned the wearer some grudging respect from the locals.

Here, though, a badge meant nothing and a lone police officer spotted on the streets could well face the prospect of being ambushed, mugged and left for dead. Not by the skaters, of course; there weren't any skaters out here. Even the most foolhardy of the street kids knew well enough to stay away from this part of town. The only gangs here were full-scale criminal operations which had no problem with sinking their teeth into the long arm of the law.

Amber had never been on patrol here before, but she'd heard the stories and had decided that her mother had been right to warn her away; by the sound of it, patrolling crime-ridden Masefield Park made a beat on Fairview look like a week in the Bahamas.

Brad apparently had the dubious privilege of living in the same street as a pawn shop, an adult video store, a boarded-up video arcade, two bars and a seedy-looking strip club, as well as the kind of neighbours who left their lights on all night and would probably blow your head off with an unlicensed shotgun if you asked them to turn their music down. Amber couldn't believe her eyes. What the hell was Brad doing, living in a place like this?

"Guess this is my stop," said Brad, with an apologetic little smile. "Thanks for the ride home, guys."

"Sure thing," said David amiably. "Come on, we weren't exactly gonna make you walk home by yourself. It's not safe out here, especially at night. You should really think about getting yourself a place closer to the precinct, bro. This place is a dump."

"I've got the money for it," said Brad. "I'm just saving it for a rainy day."

"Yeah?" said David, looking amused. "Well, out here it's pissing down every damn day of the week. How long have you been saving, anyhow? You've probably got yourself enough for a house in uptown by now."

"Not on my salary," said Brad, with a sigh. "Still, there's an apartment down in Brentford that I've been looking at. I might just be able to afford the rent if I cut down on my grocery bill and start walking to work."

"Brentford? That's a nice spot, Brad," said Amber, raising her eyebrows. "If I were you, I'd go for it."

"Same here," agreed Kevin. "Get yourself up on the property ladder and out of this crummy neighbourhood, so we don't have to keep worrying about you."

"Maybe," said Brad, with some reluctance. "But you know, in a weird kind of way, I'm used to this place now. At least if you pay your protection money, you can keep a car out on the street and know it'll still have a radio in the morning. That's more than you can say for a lot of places in this town."

"Vickers of the world, unite," said Kevin sarcastically. "You have nothing to lose but your dignity, and your wheels, and your wallet, and eight pints of blood when someone stabs you and leaves your sorry ass in the gutter to die because they don't think you handed over your cellphone fast enough. Stop being such a cheap bastard and get out of this lousy place before they kill you."

"I'll think about it," Brad said cautiously. "But I've got to be careful. They're watching me and they know where I live. If I move, they'll know all about it, and I don't want them following me."

"The scum who live here? Nah, they won't follow you," said Kevin breezily. "It's too far away from their turf and they like working from home. They get pretty nervous when they're out of their territory, and they know the people in Brentford won't put up with any of their bullshit, either."

"No, I'm not talking about them," said Brad, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "They don't care once you're out of the neighbourhood, as long as you don't come back. I meant the company. They're after me, I know it."

"What company?" said Kevin, frowning.

"Umb- " Brad began, but with great presence of mind, Amber slapped a hand over his mouth before he could finish what he was saying.

"Don't be silly, Brad," she told him loudly. "Look at you, you're talking crazy talk now, you're so tired. Come on, you've had a rough day. Go on home and get some sleep."

She gave him a meaningful look until he finally got the message and nodded.

"Okay," he said. "Thanks again, guys. I'll see you round."

"Sure thing," said Kevin. "Night, Brad. And say hello to Tansy at the strip club for me, yeah?" he added, with a wink.

Brad went bright red.

"Sure," he mumbled. "Night, guys."

"Night, Brad," said Bob, with a wave.

"Yeah, goodnight," said David. "Look after yourself, buddy. It's a jungle out there."

Amber opened the car door and shuffled out so that Brad could get out. She stood up, breathing in the night air gratefully, then quickly surveyed her immediate surroundings. Aside from a homeless guy who'd apparently passed out outside one of the bars, there didn't seem to be anyone out tonight. No need to panic, at least not for the moment.

Brad climbed out of the car and closed the door behind him.

"It's not like I've even been inside a strip club," he said fretfully. "I wouldn't know who Tansy was if she was leading a nude conga line in my direction."

"Innocence is a wonderful thing," said Amber, trying to hide a smile. "You hang onto that, Brad. It's a precious commodity and it's hard to come by nowadays."

"I've been holding onto it for the past three decades," admitted Brad. "I'm just waiting for someone to say "It's okay, Brad, you can let go now"."

Amber laughed.

"I wouldn't worry about it," she said. "I don't think Kevin knows anybody called Tansy, and even if he did, I doubt he'd go all the way across town to this hellhole just to see her. I think he was just teasing you."

"That's good," said Brad, looking relieved. "I saw a woman in a sequinned bikini go in the side door of that place once and she must have been as old as my mother. To tell you the truth, I'd rather save the money and buy a new video game instead. The US version of Bubonic the Hedgehog is coming out next week and I know the cheats you can use to play as Rabies the Squirrel. And if you beat Dr Pneumonik seventeen times in a row, you get a special bonus level where you - "

He stopped talking when he noticed Amber's vacant expression.

"Oh yeah," he said quickly. "You don't play video games."

"Nope," said Amber simply. "I can't play those things to save my life. Joseph rented Doom Raider once and I got lost on the first level. Then the stupid woman got eaten by a velociraptor and I threw the controller at the TV. Joseph had to spend twenty minutes afterwards reminding me it was just a game and nothing to get angry about."

Brad burst out laughing.

"It's Tomb Raider, Amber, not Doom Raider," he said.

"Like it really matters," said Amber, shrugging off the correction. "Whatever it's called, I'm not playing it again if it means getting lost or eaten every five seconds, or falling off cliffs every time you try to move around."

"I know what you mean. Falling into big pits of spikes all the time gets old. But anyway, I'd better get going," said Brad. "It's getting late and you guys probably want to go home now."

"Are you really sure you'll be okay tonight?" said Amber.

"I'll be okay," Brad promised.

"Promise me you're not just saying that to sound brave?" said Amber severely.

"Since when have I ever been brave?" said Brad, and looked so miserable that Amber felt ashamed of herself for making the comment.

"You'd be surprised," she said kindly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You're braver than you think, Brad. But if you're having trouble and you need to call me, then you will call me like you said you would, right?"

"I will," said Brad. "And I meant what I said earlier, you know. You really are a great friend. I don't think anybody else would have cared enough to go up there and beg me to come down like that."

"Oh, Brad, that's not true," said Amber gently. "The only reason none of the others tried to go up and talk to you was because they thought you'd jump if they did."

"I probably would have," confessed Brad. "But I didn't want you to think it was your fault that I jumped, so I stayed to hear what you had to say. And when you said what you did, I changed my mind. You saved me, Amber."

"Hey, that's what friends are for, right?" said Amber.

She hugged him tightly.

"You take care of yourself, Brad," she told him. "Give me a call tomorrow so I know you're all right, okay?"

"I will," said Brad, turning to leave. "Night, Amber."

"Goodnight," said Amber.

She watched Brad until he'd gone into the dilapidated apartment building that he called home. When an upstairs light came on, she decided that her duty was done and that it was definitely time to go home.

Amber turned around and was about to get into the police car when somebody grabbed her shoulders from behind.

"Agh!" she shrieked.

"Uhhh…" groaned the man behind her as he tried to put his arms around her, but Amber pushed him away and he fell backwards onto the sidewalk. Panting, she stared at her assailant - not, thankfully, the ravenous blood-covered zombie from the darker recesses of her imagination, but a dishevelled hobo in tattered old clothes, reeking of alcohol and still clutching a bottle of cheap vodka in one hand.

"Amber! Are you okay?" called David, getting out of the car and rushing over to her. "Did that crazy drunk hurt you? If he did, I'm taking him down to the station right now! I've had enough of the scum around here thinking they can assault a police officer! And that protection money bullshit's going to stop too! These crooks think they can scare money out of one of our boys? Well, they thought wrong! From now on we start coming down on these scumbags hard, so we can get this place cleaned up! I'm going to see the Chief about it tomorrow morning, I swear… are you all right?"

"I'm fine," said Amber, still gulping in the night air to try and slow her pounding heart as David ushered her back into the safety of the police car.

"Come on, let's get out of here," said David, climbing into the driver's seat. He slammed the door and pressed down on the central locking mechanism again; all four of the car's occupants visibly relaxed at the sound of the doors being locked. "This place gives me the creeps."

They drove off at a speed that Kevin would have thoroughly approved of. Amber kept looking nervously out of the rear window until Masefield Park was well out of sight, and didn't turn round to face the front until much later, when they emerged from a side-street and found themselves in a friendlier neighbourhood.

Meanwhile, outside Brad's apartment, the drunken hobo struggled to his feet. Thinking was so hard through the haze of alcohol - but at least it numbed the pain in his arm, he thought to himself, gripping the bottle of vodka by the neck as he crossed the street on unsteady feet.

As he staggered towards the strip club, fumbling in his filthy pocket for the change that well-meaning strangers had dropped at his feet some hours previously, he paused for a moment.

"Itchy… so damn itchy…"

He scratched furiously at his arm, hardly even noticing the sound of breaking glass as the vodka bottle fell from his fingers and smashed in the gutter. After scratching the wound so hard that it bled, he carried on towards the strip club, leaving behind a pool of vodka and broken glass in the gutter, and a few spots of blood that were already drying on the sidewalk.

"Itchy…"

xxxxxxxxxx

Sunday 9th August, 1998

A dozen pairs of inquisitive eyes looked up from their work as Amber came into the west office. The ever-present background murmur of conversation grew a little louder; there were even one or two half-hearted cheers, although these quickly died away when it became clear that nobody else was going to join in.

"Well hey, look who it is! It's the hero of the hour," said Marvin warmly, coming out of the side office to greet her. In one hand he held a fresh copy of the Raccoon Times; in the other, a steaming cup of black coffee that Amber would happily have traded for a week's wages.

"I'm no hero," said Amber wearily, collapsing into a chair and rubbing her tired eyes. "I'm an ordinary officer who stayed up way too late doing her job last night and seriously needs coffee."

"Got you covered, Amber," said Marvin straight away, and put the cup of coffee on Amber's desk.

Amber's face immediately brightened.

"Marvin, you're an angel," she said with sincerity, picking up the cup from her desk and taking an experimental sip. "God, that's good stuff. Why'd they kick you out of Heaven anyway? Make all the other angels look bad?"

"Oh," said Marvin, and his eyebrows shot up. "That reminds me, these came for you about ten minutes ago…"

He darted into the side-office and reappeared a second later with an enormous bouquet of flowers. They were mostly roses; deep blood-coloured ones, mixed in with a few sprays of little white flowers, all wrapped up in clear cellophane and red ribbons.

"They're beautiful," exclaimed Amber, taking the flowers and resting them carefully on her desk. "Who sent them?"

"No idea who they're from, but they look expensive," commented Marvin. "Tim brought them in with him saying someone had left them for you at the reception desk out front."

"Don't ask me who they're from, either," called Tim, from a desk on the other side of the room. "I did my best to find out from Bernice and the girls, but they wouldn't tell me anything and then they started giggling. I guess you've got a secret admirer or something."

"A secret admirer?" said Amber to herself, and picked up the bouquet again. Frowning, she turned it over until, amid the many folds of cellophane, she found a small card attached to the bouquet. On it, someone had written in an unfamiliar hand:

To a guardian angel and true friend, with love and gratitude.

"What does it say?" said Marvin curiously, leaning over her shoulder to read the card.

Amber repeated the words out loud. Marvin looked puzzled for a moment, then shook his head.

"Nope. Not a clue. I don't recognise the handwriting, either. Think it might be something to do with last night?"

"Could be," said Amber, who had been wondering the same thing herself.

"Oh well. I'm sure you'll find out," said Marvin, picking up a large stack of files from another desk. "I've got some stuff to take care of, Amber, so keep an eye on the office for me. Let me know if you ever find out who the flowers are from."

"Will do, Marv. Thanks for the coffee."

"No problem. I'll see you later."

Amber propped up the bouquet against the side of her desk as Marvin left the room, bent almost double under the weight of the files he was carrying. They really were beautiful flowers, she thought; whoever had sent them had clearly spent a lot of money on this bouquet.

The morning's work consisted of nothing very much. There were some minor incident reports to go over, some paperwork to be signed and a few documents to be copied and faxed to the Street Crime department. It was fairly routine work, nothing too taxing, and Amber found herself settling easily into the pattern of reading, writing and signing. It was probably the most normal day that she'd had since Joseph's death.

The morning progressed and other officers brought more work to Amber's desk. She was soon so immersed in reports that she barely even noticed the phone ringing, or the sound of Tim's chair scraping back as he got up to answer it. It was only when she felt a sharp prod in the back that she realised that Tim was standing beside her, with the phone in his hand.

"Call for you, Amber," he said.

"For me?" said Amber. "Who is it?"

"Reception," Tim replied, handing her the phone. "You'd better talk to them."

Amber waited until he'd gone, then lifted the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" she said.

"Hi Amber, it's Bernice," came the answering voice.

"Hi, Bernice," said Amber. "What's up?"

"Busy as usual. You know how it is… anyhow, you've got a visitor waiting for you out here. I don't know if you were expecting him, but he says he really wants to speak to you. He says it's important."

"Let me guess," said Amber thoughtfully. "It's Brad Vickers, right?"

"Uh-huh. Do you want to see him, or shall I tell him you're busy?"

"No, it's okay. I was kind of expecting him to show up today. Tell him I'll be right out."

"Okay."

Bernice hung up. With a heavy sigh, Amber got to her feet and put the phone back. She wasn't really in the mood for talking to Brad about last night - she was too tired - but she'd promised to be there for him whenever he needed to talk to her, and she wasn't about to go back on her word.

"Tim," she called out. "Can you take care of things here for a minute? I've got someone waiting to see me in Reception and apparently it's important. If Marvin comes back, tell him where I've gone, okay?"

"Will do," said Tim, with a curt nod.

Amber hurried out of the room and into the foyer. As usual, it was the one place in the building that was cold in spite of the summer heat. Two of the secretaries, still wearing thin blouses and short skirts despite their better judgment, looked almost blue with cold. Bernice, however, had had the foresight to bring a light sweater with her today; she was the only one of the three who looked comfortable with the temperature.

"Hi, Amber," she said cheerfully. "Thanks for showing up. I know how busy you guys are."

"That's all right. Where's Brad?"

"He's over by the steps."

"Thanks."

Brad was standing by the steps near the front entrance. His back was turned to Amber, but when he heard Amber's footsteps behind him, he turned around to face her.

"Hey Amber," he said shyly. "I'm sorry to bother you. I know you're busy and you probably don't have much time to spare…"

"Brad, it's okay," Amber interrupted him. "I always have time for my friends, you know that. I don't have much to do this morning anyway. What's on your mind?"

Brad looked around quickly.

"Can we go somewhere more private?" he said, in a low but urgent tone of voice.

"Why - " began Amber, but then she noticed the three secretaries watching them with interest from the reception desk, as if hoping to overhear some juicy gossip. "Oh… yeah, of course. You want to go outside to talk?"

Brad nodded. "Outside sounds good."

To the secretaries' profound disappointment, Amber and Brad went outside to continue their conversation; Amber saw their faces falling even as the door swung shut behind her.

Sorry, ladies, she thought. I know you like your gossip, but some things are important - and private. Maybe some other time…

Brad indicated that they should go across the yard and down into the underpass beneath the front steps of the building. Amber followed him, wondering what was so important that he wanted to go and sit in a dank brick tunnel underneath the yard to find enough privacy to talk.

"It's too hot to be out in the sun," Brad explained along the way. "At least it's nice and cool in the underpass. Nobody ever goes down there, either, so it's fairly private. I always used to sit down there whenever I wanted some time to myself."

"Really now?" said Amber, intrigued by this idea. "That's not such a bad idea, Brad. I might try that myself once in a while."

"Yeah, I used to go there during my lunch break so nobody would bother me," Brad confided. "Of course, I'd get yelled at later if they needed me for something, because nobody would ever think of looking for me down there. But it was worth it for a moment's peace."

They sat down on the steps. Amber tried to ignore the cool, clammy air and the discomfort of sitting on a concrete step, and waited for Brad to talk.

"Um… did you like the flowers?" he began, looking slightly embarrassed.

"You sent those?" said Amber in amazement. "Oh, Brad, you shouldn't have… but don't tell me you came all the way here just to ask me that?"

"No! No, of course not," said Brad hurriedly. "I just wanted to know if they're okay. They are okay, aren't they? I mean, you're not allergic to them, or afraid of the colour red or anything like that, right? Because if you don't like them, I can get you something else instead, it's really no problem, I'll give them to my mom because she likes flowers, I buy them for her every time I go to visit and - "

"Calm down, Brad," Amber told him, cutting him off mid-babble. "There's nothing wrong with them; I think they're beautiful. It was sweet of you to send them. You really didn't have to do that."

"But I wanted to," said Brad timidly. "I wanted to say thank you for what you did last night. You've always been a good friend to me and you're really kind, and I wanted to show you how much that meant to me, and - and what you mean to me."

Amber was about to smile and thank him when her brain finally registered the last few words.

Wait a minute… what was that supposed to mean?

Brad was looking at her expectantly, and Amber realised that she'd forgotten to respond to him.

"Uh, you're welcome, Brad," she said quickly. "So, what did you want to talk to me about? You said it was important."

"Probably not important to you," said Brad, and he lowered his eyes. "But after what happened last night, I figured I should tell you while I've still got the chance."

"Tell me what?" said Amber.

An expression of real pain crossed Brad's face as he underwent some kind of inner struggle, but after a moment he finally managed to blurt out:

"I like you, Amber."

"I like you too, Brad," said Amber, smiling. "I think you're a very sweet guy."

"I - I mean you're smart, and pretty, and kind, and you're brave… you're all the things I'm not and you still talk to me, even though I'm a total loser," said Brad nervously. "And I know you'll probably never like me that way, but I just want you to know that I really like you. I've always liked you, ever since you first joined the force, but you loved Joseph and I didn't want to say anything, because you were both my friends and I knew how much you cared about each other, and I… well, I just wanted you to be happy…"

He stopped, blushing, and looked down at his feet as Amber's mouth opened in shock.

"Brad, I - " she stopped, and tried again. "I - I never thought that - why are you telling me this?"

"I wasn't going to tell you," said Brad unhappily. "I didn't want to upset you, or make you want to stop being my friend. It's just that - well, after last night I kind of realised that I might not have long to live, and I thought I might never get the chance to tell you again. And I know you'd never be interested in a guy like me, especially right now, but you're really nice and I wanted to tell you how much I care about you."

Amber felt her cheeks burning. This, however, was nothing compared to how Brad must have been feeling; his face was buried in his hands to hide his embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have told you. I knew this would happen. You'd feel awkward and upset because you don't feel the same way about me, and I'd just end up looking like an idiot. I'm really sorry. I understand if you don't want to talk to me any more. I'll leave you alone now."

He got up to leave, but Amber grabbed him by the arm.

"Hey, hey, wait a minute," she said. "I never said I didn't want to be your friend any more. Whatever gave you that impression?"

Brad sat down beside her again, and sighed deeply.

"I've made you feel bad because you don't feel the same about me," he said sadly. "I've messed up a good friendship and made you feel uncomfortable about being around me now that I've told you how I feel. I knew I shouldn't have said anything."

"Oh, Brad, don't be silly," said Amber. "I don't feel uncomfortable about being around you. I'm just sad about having to break a good friend's heart right in front of them."

"Really?" said Brad. "You don't hate me for screwing up?"

"No, of course not."

"So we're still friends?"

"Of course."

"But you don't ever want to be my girlfriend, right?"

Amber bit her lip.

"Brad," she said uncomfortably, "please don't get me wrong. You're a nice guy and everything, but I just lost Joseph and it's - it's just way too soon to even start thinking about another relationship. And to be honest, I never even thought about you as a possible boyfriend. As far as I knew, we were just friends and that was it."

Brad looked bitterly disappointed.

"But you know," added Amber, putting a hand on his arm to console him, "that doesn't always have to be the way things are. Maybe one day it'll be different. You never know how things are going to work out. Hell, ten years from now we could be married with seven kids."

"God moves in mysterious ways, sure," said Brad, and he started to grin. "But I don't think even divine intervention could persuade me to have kids. I had to look after my cousin's kids for an afternoon once and by the time she came home, they were running around destroying the house and I was sitting in the corner in the foetal position, whimpering and sucking my thumb."

Amber laughed.

"Too bad," she said. "I love kids. I always said if I couldn't be a cop, then I'd probably be a nanny or a kindergarten teacher."

"Yeah," said Brad, almost wistfully. "I think you'd be good at that."

Amber looked down at her watch.

"Brad, I'd better go," she told him urgently. "Tim and Marvin are probably wondering where I am."

"Wait," said Brad, and he stood up as Amber got up to leave. "Amber, I know you're probably going to say no, but I was wondering… they're showing Biohazard 4 at the movie theatre tonight and I've been waiting to see it for months. Do you want to come with me? Not on a date or anything like that," he added, as Amber opened her mouth to object. "I could just do with the company right now, you know? And I might need someone to hold my hand. I heard it's scary and, well, my mom doesn't like horror movies…"

Amber smiled suddenly.

"Hell, why not?" she said. "I could do with some company too. And it's been ages since I last went to the movies. Sure, I'll come along if you buy the popcorn."

Brad beamed.

"Great!" he said excitedly. "When do you get off work tonight?"

"Around eight," said Amber. "Though I can probably get off a little early tonight after the overtime I did last night. Meet you there? My car broke down this morning, so I had to take the bus and you know how that takes forever, but I can probably get David to drop me off - or Tim, he's been working days lately to cover for one of the other guys. I'm sure he won't mind."

"Okay then," said Brad. "I'll meet you there. I'll let you get back to work now."

"All right. Take care of yourself, Brad."

"I will. Catch you later."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Where the hell have you been, Amb?" said Tim, as she went back into the office. "Marv and I thought you'd fallen down a hole or something! Some of the other guys were taking bets on whether you were coming back at all!"

"Yeah, I lost ten bucks because of you!" she heard Fulham shout from the far end of the room.

"Serves you right," Tim retorted. "I told you she'd come back eventually."

"The key word being eventually…" added Marvin, grinning.

"Sorry, guys, that took a lot longer than expected," said Amber, slumping back into her chair. "Did I miss much?"

"Nah, not really. We were just kidding. Don't worry about it."

As she returned to her work, she noticed that the flowers had been unwrapped from their cellophane and were now in a small glass vase on her desk.

"Yeah," said Marvin, on seeing her puzzled expression. "I figured they needed some water. They'd be dead by the time you got them home otherwise, especially in this heat. Dave Ford had some of that liquid plant food stuff in the darkroom cupboard too, so I put a little of that in as well."

"Plant food? What the hell is that doing in the darkroom?" said Tim.

"Oh, he has some sort of weird method for getting rid of red-eye in photographs, or something like that, and apparently plant food's a key component. God only knows how you can get rid of red-eye with plant food, but he says it works, and I'm not about to argue," said Marvin, with a shrug.

"I know I've never seen red-eye in any of Dave's photographs, so I guess he must be on to something," said Tim. "I'll have to ask him how he does it."

"He won't tell you, Tim," said Marvin, smiling and shaking his head. "You know how Dave is. Paranoid and secretive. He thinks the darkroom is his own personal space and he gets kind of edgy if he thinks you're trying to muscle in on it. If he gets mad at you just for being in the room, then there's no way he'll share any of his methods with you."

"Why's that guy so twitchy anyway? Okay, so I caught him with that bottle of whiskey at work, but it's not like I'm going to tell anybody," said Tim dismissively. "Come on, if I didn't snitch on George Scott for gluing me to a toilet, then I'm not gonna shop Dave Ford for knocking back cheap Scotch on the night shift, am I? Especially not the same night his father died all those years back."

"His father died?" said Marvin, who looked startled by this news. "What happened to him?"

"He was killed in a hit and run incident, on the way home from a night out with some old college friends. Dave never really got over it. Every year on that night, he has a bottle of Scotch to himself. He says his dad always loved Scotch, so I guess it's his way of remembering him," said Tim.

"That's really sad," said Marvin. "I had no idea."

"He doesn't really want it spread around," said Tim. "So don't go telling everybody, okay?"

"Well you just told the whole office, so why not everybody?" Amber cut in. "You two gossip like a pair of old ladies. You're even worse than my mom's friends."

"She's got us there, huh, Tim?" said Marvin, laughing. "Still, we've got nothing on you and Jill, Amber. You two probably talk more than everyone else in the county put together."

"Yeah," said Tim. "Put them in the same room and they won't shut up for weeks. Oh, Amber, she came in asking where you were earlier. I forgot to tell you."

"Why? What did she want?" said Amber.

"I have no idea, but she wanted to speak to you, so you'd better go and find her," said Tim. "Try not to spend all day up there, though, Amb…" he called after her as she hurried out of the room.

xxxxxxxxxx

The traditional box of doughnuts had become much smaller lately, Amber noticed. Not that it was really surprising, since the number of STARS members had more than halved, but nevertheless it served as a grim reminder of lost loved ones and happier times.

Joseph always liked the sugar doughnuts best, thought Amber, gazing sadly at the open box. I really hope there are sugar doughnuts in Heaven. Lots and lots of them, since he's going to spend all eternity there. Eternity's a heck of a long time, after all…

A hand reached past her face and dipped into the box.

"Don't mind me, Amber," said a friendly voice. "Just looking to see what Kenny's brought up for us today…"

"I thought you were meant to be on a diet, Barry?" said Amber archly.

"Well, that's the idea," said Barry, with a chuckle. "Don't tell my wife, but I've actually come up with a whole new diet plan of my own."

"Oh really?" came Jill's voice from across the room. "And what's it called? "The Never Say Diet"?"

Barry just laughed.

"Nope. I call it the "Doughnut Bother Diet"," he told her.

"Why do you call it that?" said Rebecca curiously, looking up from her work.

"Because I "doughnut" bother keeping it up for more than a week," said Barry, laughing at his own terrible pun.

Rebecca looked blank for a moment, then her face cleared.

"Oh! I get it!" she exclaimed, and broke into a fit of giggles at her desk.

"Oh, Barry, that's terrible," groaned Jill, but she still couldn't keep herself from smiling.

"I'll stop joking when you stop smiling," said Barry, with a broad grin.

"Seriously, Barry," said Jill, making an attempt at a straight face. "You should at least try to stick to a diet. Kathy's right, losing five pounds would make such a big difference."

"I know," said Barry, casting a look of regret at the box of doughnuts. "But I never could resist a good doughnut."

He reached into it and brought out a plump chocolate-topped doughnut.

"There's nothing like a good Bavarian Creme," he said with immense satisfaction, and bit into it.

Satisfaction instantly turned into disgust.

"What? What is this?" he said, coughing.

"Um… I think it's lemon, Barry," said Rebecca meekly. "That was one of mine."

"Chocolate-covered and lemon-filled? That's just gross," said Barry. "Sorry, Rebecca, it looked like the kind I usually get. Do you want the rest?"

"Maybe you should go back to five minutes ago and ask me before you bit into it," said Rebecca dryly. "Sorry, Barry, but I'm not going to eat it now that your drool's on it. That really is gross. You might as well finish it."

"Please yourself," said Barry, shrugging, and finished the cake in three bites.

"I thought you said it was gross," said an amused Jill.

"Not bad, actually," Barry mused aloud. "A little lemony. Needs chocolate sprinkles and different colour icing, but I think it could grow on me."

"There's plenty growing on you already," Jill retorted. "We're going to have to get you a bigger chair if you keep this up, Barry. You need to start on that diet, pronto."

"You girls and your diets," sighed Barry. "All right, starting today. After I've finished my doughnuts. But right now, since there's nothing like a good Bavarian Creme and that was nothing like a good Bavarian Creme, I'm going to find out which one is like a good Bavarian Creme…"

"You owe Rebecca a doughnut, too, since you just ate one of hers," Jill reminded him.

"That's okay, Jill," said Rebecca. "Just leave me the maple iced one in the middle, Barry, that'll be fine."

She and Jill returned to their work as Barry rooted through the box of doughnuts in search of the elusive Bavarian Cremes.

"Cinammon? Why the hell did Kenny get two cinnamon doughnuts? He knows Brad's not around any more, doesn't he?" they heard him say.

"Maybe he just forgot, Barry," said Jill gently. "He's only a kid, remember. He does his best, and usually he gets it just right. And he's been a little distracted since that dog attack. Cut him some slack."

"Yeah, you're right," said Barry. "Never mind. We can always bring them round to his place after work. After last night he'd probably appreciate a visit, don't you think?"

"I couldn't agree more," said Jill. "That reminds me - Amber, that's why I asked you to come up and see us. I just wanted to say thank you from all of us, for looking after Brad last night. He called me this morning and told me all about what happened. You saved his life."

"Oh," said Amber. "Yeah. Yeah, I did. He sent me a big bunch of flowers and he even came to see me this morning, to ask if I wanted to go to the movies with him tonight."

"Brad asked you out on a date?" said Rebecca, giggling. "Seriously?"

"Aww," said Jill, smiling. "That's really sweet. What did you say to him?"

"I told him I'd go, but it's definitely not a date," Amber said firmly. "It's only been two weeks since - well, since Joseph died, and it'll be a long, long time before I even start thinking about a new relationship. I don't think I even want to have another boyfriend. Nobody could ever replace Joseph, and I wouldn't want anyone to try. There's no way I could love anyone else as much as I loved him."

"I know," said Jill sympathetically. "And I think Brad does too. He's liked you for years but he's been too shy to say anything. He knew how much you and Joseph meant to each other, and I think he respects that. He probably wouldn't even have said anything about it, but he sounded pretty emotional on the phone this morning."

"To be honest, Amber, I think he just needs a friend to talk to and some distraction from real life," said Barry. "This Umbrella stuff's really been getting him down lately. It'll do him good to get out of his apartment and have some fun for a change. Probably won't hurt you either. You've been working really hard."

"Yeah," agreed Amber. "Still, you guys are worth it."

"Oh, and thanks for talking to Chris yesterday," said Jill suddenly. "I think this time he's actually started listening."

It struck Amber for the first time that Chris wasn't in the room. There was no jacket hanging off the back of his chair, and the double chocolate doughnuts in the box - Chris' usual choice - remained untouched.

"Where is he, anyway?" she said, looking around.

"Taking the day off," said Jill, reaching into the box for a raspberry-filled doughnut - her own personal favourite. "I saw him holed up in a diner this morning with a big plate of bacon, hash browns and eggs over easy, poring over a bunch of paperwork. He looked kind of sad, now that I think about it. But at least he's eating properly now. I'll give him a call tonight to make sure he's all right."

"You do that," said Amber. "Anything else you guys wanted, or was that it?"

"No, not really, but we asked Kenny to get you a little something while he was fetching doughnuts," said Barry.

He took two doughnuts out of the box and, handling them reverently as though they were holy relics, passed them to Amber.

"There you go, kiddo. Custard-filled, and topped with chocolate syrup and almonds. Hope you like 'em."

"Oh, I love these," said Amber, delighted. "Thanks, guys, that was sweet of you."

"Don't mention it," said Barry casually. "Well, you'd better get back to work now. We've probably kept you too long already. Catch you later."

Amber nodded, and opened the door as best she could with sticky fingers. Out in the corridor, she wolfed down one of the doughnuts to free up at least one hand, licked her fingers clean, and shut the door behind her again.

"Bernstein!"

Amber's head shot up in alarm; the other doughnut tumbled from her hands and landed on the wooden floor with a sad little squelch. Standing in front of her, slowly turning crimson with anger, was Chief Irons.

"Sir, I - !" she stammered, desperately searching for an excuse. "I - the STARS told me - they just wanted to speak to me about - about last night, about what happened with Vickers in downtown and - and they just wanted t-to say thank you for s-saving him, sir…"

The excuse trailed away into oblivion, and Amber cringed as the man's face darkened with anger. It didn't look as though her explanation had done any good. If anything, it had had quite the opposite effect; he looked as though he was about to explode.

"Get back downstairs this instant!" said the Chief, quivering all over with apoplectic rage. "Or so help me, you'll never work in law enforcement again! You've been warned, Bernstein! Downstairs, now!"

Amber was so terrified that she almost fell over her own feet in her haste to run away. The Chief watched her go, still shaking with fury, then looked down at the oozing doughnut on the floor. He seemed to calm down slightly at the sight of the stricken cake.

After contemplating it for a second or two, he bent down, scooped it up in his pudgy hands and carried it away with him, cramming the sticky mess of syrup, cream and squashed cake greedily into his mouth as he strutted away down the corridor.