Author's note: Final chapter! I felt I left Barbara a bit aside in the last chapters so I wanted to make her character more central in this one. As always I'm addicted to reviews so let me know if you liked (or disliked…) this story. I'm going to take a break publishing (I'm not good at multi-tasking and when I'm writing I don't read the others' fanfics so I have a lot to catch up!) but I won't stop writing. Actually I've another story in mind already and I was wondering if you'd prefer to see me posting one chapter at a time (and let's face it, wait around 6 weeks between updates as it seems that's my average…sorry… …did I mention my poor multi-tasking skills?...) or if you'd rather wait longer but get the complete story in one post. Let me know your preference. Bye for now.

Dear Readers, this is the final entry in that little digression I made to celebrate the first anniversary of this blog. The feedback I got from those of you who reviewed was fantastic. Thank you so much! However my next posts will be more standard and deal with criminology in a more professional way. But not before I tell you something more at the end of this chapter…

The following days were a bit dull to Barbara's taste. Pollard's team was in charge of the surveillance of the traffickers; Miller's and Barnley's cars had not given any new lead; Lily was still mum about who had hurt her. To top it all, the atmosphere at the police station had deteriorated after the incident with Todd. Some resented Lynley's decision to raise an official complaint while others thought it hadn't happened too soon but everyone agreed that Todd's behaviour was none of Lynley's business. It was an internal affair and it should have been dealt with internally not by an inspector who didn't belong to the team. Barbara even overheard some nasty comments about the Met's wonder boy, you know the one with the silver spoon up his arse. Whenever she heard them she felt the urge to take Lynley's defense, generally fiercely, and soon earned a reputation of her own. She didn't mind it, she was used to being seen as a cantankerous woman. Tommy had told her to don't get involved but she couldn't help herself. She had never borne hearing someone criticizing him, even if she agreed with the criticism. She was the only one she authorized to lash out at Tommy Lynley. Barbara had a look at the big clock on the wall of the open plan office. 2:07. She sighted. She couldn't wait to go back to Howenstow. She was finally starting to feel at ease there. With Lily around she found the big house less austere. She was still a bit uneasy with Lady Asherton, although Tommy's mother was really nice with her, but she had taken to Lady Alice and they often chatted together. It seemed strange to Barbara to hear a countess talk about her childhood and years as a working young woman and be able to relate. And, of course, there was Tommy. The highlight of her day came after dinner when she was alone with Tommy. Weather permitting they went for a walk in the park or on the beach, else they stayed in the library. These moments involved a lot of hand holding, kissing, and cuddling. Slowly Barbara was getting less shy; the night before she had even passed her hand inside Tommy's shirt and had swirled her fingertips on his belly. He had not moved, letting her take control, perhaps afraid he'd scare her again with his desire. But Barbara wasn't afraid anymore and she reckoned that sooner rather than later she'd be the one asking for more skin contact. But for the moment she had a report to read. She had decided to read Alison Miller's post-mortem report. She had not read the final report yet and as she had nothing else to do she had downloaded it onto her computer. The main points were the same as in the preliminary report she had read on her first day on the case so she hesitated. Should she read them again? Another look at the clock. 2:11. Damn! Only four minutes since the last time!? Either the bloody clock wasn't working or there was a black hole nearby. Barbara went for the full text. Alison Miller had been killed by two gunshots delivered at close range. The pathologist had added a note explaining that blood must have been splattered everywhere, including on the killer and on the weapon, the murder weapon being a hunting rifle of a very common type. There was no defense mark or nothing that could have indicated she fought with her killer. The time of death ranged from midnight to two in the morning, a narrower range than in the preliminary report. Prior to her death Alison had been in good health and cleaned. Barbara jotted some words in her notebook and went on reading. When she was killed Alison wore a pair of black jeans, a pink T-shirt, a coarse-wool jumper and walking boots. Like most detectives Barbara loved walking boots: things had a wonderful tendency to get stuck in their studs. Alas not this time: the boots soles were clean and exempt of dirt. Barbara remembered the cave where Lily had been found and the dirt track one had to follow to reach it. It was impossible to keep one's shoes clean when walking on that path. The killer washed them, Barbara concluded. Did it tell her something about the killer's MO? Not really, she admitted after some thoughts. With all the TV series, the members of the public were now well aware of the capabilities of the forensics science and just about everybody knew they had better leave as few evidences as possible. Which was another problem since the victim's relatives now expected the police to run a case just like on TV: a gorgeous blonde woman would wander onto the scene of crime, in plain clothes, hair unattached, dust here and there, maybe swab a witness' mouth, run the analysis and 40 minutes later arrest the killer. After that no wonder the police had to deal with a growing number of bereaved families complaining that the investigation was taking too much time. Sod unrealistic crime series, Barbara thought angrily.

Rapid footsteps followed by the screeching of a chair against the floor made her raise her head. Joan Perkins was back at her desk, spruce and professional as always, but in jeans and biker's boots. Joan caught Barbara's eyes on her and smiled. Barbara had to admit that since she had clarified the situation with her she liked the constable better. What can't a little chat at the coffee machine solve? It had turned out Perkins wasn't interested in Lynley personally but she wanted to make a good impression on the inspector and as he was very elegant she'd thought she had to dress up herself. To which Barbara had replied that if dress code were important to Lynley he wouldn't have spent the last 8 years working with her. They had both laughed and that had been the end of Perkins smart clothes and of Barbara's jealousy. Barbara returned to her reading. And finally something aroused her curiosity: the forensics expert had used adhesive tape to collect some fibres from Miller's jumper and among the white wood threads he'd found tiny white paint chips. The level of lead in their composition signaled an old paint, from before the 60's. More interestingly, after a long paragraph full of scientific jargon Barbara didn't even try to make sense of, the expert concluded that after being shot, Alison's body had laid on a surface covered with the paint chips.

Barbara went to Tommy's office and knocked on the open door.

'Sir?'

He lifted his head and smiled:

'Come in, Havers.'

'I've found something.'

'Tell me.'

She told him about the paint chips.

'When you were in Alison's house did you notice old paint on the walls or on the floor?'

'I don't think so.'

'You're not sure?'

'No, I'm not; I wasn't paying attention to the paintwork. You think Miller was killed there?'

'That's a possibility.'

'SOCO didn't find anything in that sense when they searched the house.'

'Did they check for blood traces?'

'They didn't spray Blue Star all over the place if that's what you mean.'

Barbara pouted her lips.

'Sloppy work.'

'Standard procedure,' Lynley replied. 'You want me to ask SOCO to have a second look?'

Barbara considered the question for a minute. SOCO knew their job, without any doubt. If they had seen even the faintest trace of something they would have collected and analyzed it immediately. On the other hand, they were humans and humans were fallible.

'Maybe they could check if there's lead paint in the house?'

'All right, I'll have a team go there.'

'Thanks. Anything new concerning our friends the traffickers?'

'Not yet.'

Barbara looked terribly disappointed.

'I saw Joan with a file, I thought she had some news for you.'

'She had but not on the traffickers: she's been able to trace the origin of the other objects we found in Miller's rucksack.'

'With your silverware?'

'Yes. Guess where they come from?'

She frowned.

'You sound like Dr Penhurst.'

Tommy laughed.

'Sorry. They come from Missy's house.'

'Why didn't she report the theft?'

'Because she didn't notice it until Perkins told her about the items we found in the rucksack. Missy inherited them from her parents, let me see…'

He put on his reading glasses and read aloud from a sheet of paper.

'…an old fob watch, a hatpin with a pearl, the pearl's fake I'm afraid, and a fancy brooch. They are old, they look precious but they only have sentimental value. Missy kept them in her chest of drawers in her bedroom. She told Perkins she showed them to Alison once. '

'How did they end up in Miller's hand?'

'You remember Missy was away when Alison was killed? She had given a spare key to her house to Alison with instructions to water the flowers and feed the cats.'

'Doesn't Missy have anything of more value?'

'She has a laptop but she took it to her sister's to show her the latest chapters of her book. She does have a terrific library though with some first editions I'd be glad to have in the library at Howenstow but I guess Alison didn't know some books can be worth more than jewels.'

Barbara remained silent while Tommy put the paper back in its folder. He took out a photograph of Alison Miller on the autopsy table and considered it pensively.

'This story's so depressing. The only thing she wanted was to live peacefully with her daughter, and form a family and, because she'd been let down by the very people who should have taken care of her, she ended up making some mistakes that led to her very premature death, because she had no faith in anyone left.'

'I can relate to that, you know,' Barbara replied softly. 'I used to be that way: solitary, distrustful, embittered.'

'Not anymore?'

'Well, I still am, sometimes. But not all the time. I like to think I'm a better person now. And it's because at one point in my career, when I was very very low, Detective Super-Idiot Webberley thought no better than team me up with the most arrogant, the most annoying, the most superficial, posh careerist of the whole division.'

'And you liked him?' Tommy asked, suppressing a smile.

'I hated him! Couldn't bear him! He had everything I would never have: the money, the good-look, a fast-track career, a brilliant future and what had he done to have all that? He'd just given himself the trouble of being born.'

'Whereas you'd always had to fight for everything.'

'Exactly! And it turned out I was right. The guy had a complete disregard of the procedures, he didn't mind lying to his superior if he could get some benefit out of it, and he was unable to resist a beautiful woman even when she was a suspect in a murder case.'

'A despicable man.'

'A man who was used to have everything his own way.'

'How could such a man have helped you?' Tommy asked, genuinely interested.

'He was humane, respectful and compassionate. He treated me like a real person, a full-fledged detective. I wasn't just a stooge. He asked for my opinion, and considered my inputs. The class gap wasn't important to him. He even tried to befriend me! He made some damned blunders along the way but it was moving.'

'And that was enough to win you over?'

'You see it wasn't me against the rest of the word anymore. I finally had someone who cared for me, who made me feel as if I were important.'

'Probably because you are important to him.'

'Well, he's pretty important to me in any case. I can't imagine my life without him around.'

'He'll always be around, Barbara.'

The rasp in his voice, the look in his eyes conveyed a million words he couldn't say right now. But Barbara got the message loud and clear.

A knock on the door startled them.

'Er…Sorry to disturb.'

It was Jeremy Pollard.

'Jeremy, come in,' Lynley waved at him. 'Do you know DS Havers?'

He didn't, so Lynley made the presentation.

'Our friend Marjory left London this morning, direction our beautiful Cornwall,' Pollard said, once seated.

'Good. Are we ready to welcome him as he should be?' Lynley asked.

'Yes, we are. We checked and secured every possible road, track, path around the barn. There's no way they're going to escape.'

'Perfect. I'd like to go with you to make the arrest, if possible.'

'Sure! You tipped me on that traffic, it's only fair you assist to the conclusion of the case.'

'Can I come too?' Barbara asked.

'I never say no to a beautiful woman,' Pollard replied flirtatiously.

Barbara rolled her eyes and he laughed.

'Yeah, that's a load of crap, sorry about that. But do come if you don't mind my poor attempts at a joke or two.'

'I've heard a lot worse.'

'All settled then! See you this evening,' Pollard replied and he left the room

'I'll ask for a search warrant,' Lynley said, picking up his phone. 'We may find something interesting on the Miller case too and I don't want to stumble upon some evidences only to see them rejected in court because we didn't have a warrant.'

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At 1:15 that night, Pollard, Tommy and Barbara were at their posts, near the place of the exchange. Two other groups of policemen, some of them armed, were hidden nearby, ready to intervene. All had been waiting for nearly three hours now and they were tired and cold. The excitement of the beginning had left place to boredom. To top it all the night was particularly fresh and their bullet proof vests were a meagre protection against the cold. Their limbs were stiff and numb with cold and inaction.

'What's he waiting for?' Barbara grumbled. 'He left London this morning, no, yesterday morning, he should have arrived ages ago.'

'I'm sure he's not far,' Pollard replied. 'He's certainly somewhere waiting for the right time to show up.'

'In a club, in front of a pint, after a nice dinner,' Tommy added dreamily.

'You're not helping here, you know that?' Barbara moaned.

They started to bicker playfully but Pollard raised his hand to order them to be quiet: one of his men, posted a bit further down the road, was talking in his earpiece.

'A car's coming,' Pollard whispered and they hid better.

Less than a minute later a car arrived and pulled on the grassy verge along the barn they were watching.

'Hold on!' Pollard ordered his team. 'We need to take them red-handed.'

They watched in silence as a man came out of the car. Tommy who was watching through night-vision binoculars confirmed:

'It's Marjory.'

Barbara didn't feel the cold anymore. Her heart was beating faster, sending her blood racing through her veins. She was ready for action. She felt the two men near her tense. They were ready too.

A light went on in the building and the door opened. A second man came out and helped Marjory take some bags inside.

'Now!' Pollard yelled. 'Go! Go! Go!'

All the officers converged to the barn, where the armed unit entered first. It was over very rapidly. When Pollard, Lynley and Barbara came in, the two traffickers were being held at gunpoint by fierce-looking policemen.

'Good evening, Mr Wilcox,' Lynley said calmly, 'would you mind introducing us to your friend?'

The landlord turned trafficker and his accomplice were swiftly handcuffed. Pollard opened one of the bags; white powder came out of it.

'I suppose this is not sugar for the pub, Mr Wilcox?' he asked humorously.

Wilcox didn't reply and lowered his head in defeat.

'Where's your wife, Mr. Wilcox,' asked Lynley.

'Leave her alone! She's got nothing to do with that,' the man cried.

'I repeat the question: where is your wife?'

Reluctantly Wilcox replied:

'She's in bed. Asleep.'

'Go get her,' Lynley ordered two men.

'She did nothing wrong!' Wilcox shouted.

'Maybe but I'd like to speak to her nonetheless.'

The police officers started searching the place for more evidence. The layout of the building was different than in the other barn. This one had not been converted yet and was used as a storage space. Barbara saw folding chairs, picnic tables, dusty parasols and at the other end materials certainly used during the conversion of the other barn: tools, old cans of paint, hardened paintbrushes. Old partition walls were stacked against a wall, their old white paint chipping off. Barbara went to have a closer look at them. She noticed that the floor was cleaner there than in the rest of the barn. The partition walls too looked surprisingly clean as if they had been washed. Remembering the chips of white paint found on Alison Miller's jumper, Barbara knew that was the place where the young woman had been killed. She looked around for Lynley but he was busy and didn't notice her. Wilcox was still quiet but Marjory was very noisy, shouting profanities at everyone so she went outside to call SOCO. She had them on the line when she felt the cold muzzle of a gun on the back of her neck.

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Lynley was getting restless. They had plenty of evidence to link Roy Wilcox to a drug traffic but he wanted to hear the man about the murders of Alison Miller and Brian Barnley. And he would be able to do so once they were all back at the station. This was going to be a long night but he was confident his investigation would soon come to its end. Call it copper instinct if you will, but he felt it in his guts. The only person still missing was Connie Wilcox but the two officers he'd sent would soon be back with her. And Barbara, he realized suddenly. One minute she was there, searching the barn like every other officer and the minute after she had disappeared. Where was she? Had she sneaked outside to have a fag? She had been fidgety during their wait as she had not been allowed to smoke out of fear that the red end of her cigarette might give away their position. He wished she'd give up this bad habit of hers but knew from experience this would not be easy. He was going to check on her when she came into the barn again. God, does she look pale, he thought, she must be exhausted. Behind Barbara he saw Connie Wilcox and for a second he was happy the officers had finally fetched her - they could all go to the station now – but something was wrong: the policemen weren't there. Connie Wilcox seemed to be on her own… and Barbara looked so stiff… and that look in her eyes… it wasn't exhaustion, it was fear. Tommy caught the glimpse of a gun barrel aimed directly at Barbara's head and his heart stopped in his chest.

Immediately the armed officers pointed their guns at Connie Wilcox but she had her back against a wall and was almost completely hidden behind Barbara. They couldn't reach her without hurting the detective sergeant first.

'Lay down your arms, gentlemen, or this lady will die,' Connie ordered.

Tommy slowly walked towards her.

'Mrs Wilcox…'

'Stay where you are inspector Lynley!'

'Mrs Wilcox, this is insane, you don't stand a chance.'

'Neither does she: her bulletproof jacket won't protect her head.'

'Let her go. You can have me. Look.' He took off his bulletproof jacket.

'Tommy!' Pollard shouted.

'You stay out of this, Pollard!' Tommy shouted back, keeping his eyes on Connie Wilcox. 'Look, Mrs Wilcox, no jacket, no protection, just me.' He turned the palms of his hands towards her, in what he hoped would be seen as a non-threatening posture and took another step.

'Stay where you are, Inspector!' Connie shouted again, pressing the muzzle of her gun harder against Barbara's head. 'I won't hesitate!''

'Like you didn't hesitate to kill Alison Miller and Brian Barnley? Because they were a threat to your business?'

'She thought she could blackmail us, she came here with some photos, asking for money. She wanted £5 000, that bitch, but I knew if we paid her we'd never get rid of her, she'd come again and again asking for more and more money.'

'So you killed her?'

'It was easy. She came here to pick up the money, or so she thought, but I was waiting for her. You should have seen her face when she saw me with the gun, she didn't expect that, I tell you.'

'On the contrary, I think she knew it was an eventuality and she took her precautions, putting what was precious to her in a safe place with a copy of the photographs. She let just enough evidence to put the police in the right direction, your direction.'

Out of the corner of his eye, Lynley saw one of the policemen take a prudent step in Connie's direction, trying to sneak up on her. But she saw him and immediately adjusted her aim at Barbara. Lynley shouted angrily:

'Don't move! Pollard can't you tell your men to stay put!'

'Don't move! Nobody moves without my order!' Pollard ordered his team.

'Nobody moves or she dies!' Connie Wilcox shouted too, then she added in a steely voice, looking at Lynley in the eyes:' His Lordship here has already lost a wife, I'm sure he doesn't want to lose another one.'

'Mrs Wilcox, it's over, you're not going to win and you know that. You already killed two people, don't make things worse. You don't want to spend the rest of your life in prison.'

'It's too late.'

'No, it's not. Put that gun down and I'll tell the CPS you were cooperative. After all Miller was a blackmailer and Brian Barnley was a drug trafficker. They were no saints. I'm sure it was Barnley who introduced you to Mr. Marjory here.'

'He said he had some contacts in London, from the time he spent away from home. He said there was a market here waiting for someone to take it but he needed a place to store the stuff. He couldn't store it on the farm, his father was too nosey.'

'Did he know you killed his girlfriend?'

'Bloody hell, no! He was playing the tough guy but he was just scum, no stomach.'

'I had the feeling my questions about Alison made him nervous.'

'You scared the hell out of him, Inspector! The day he died, he came here, shaking, saying you were on his back. He was really edgy. He drank like a bloody fish. Couldn't held his nerves, that wimp.'

'You must have been concerned. What if he lost his nerves completely and talked to me about your little business.'

'We couldn't afford that.'

'And he was kind enough to put his head in the noose by coming here and drinking himself unconscious.'

'He was such a prat. The most difficult part was to put him in the driver's seat, he weighed more than a feather.'

'Mrs Wilcox, Connie, you do realize this has to stop? Two people are dead, two young people. Alison Miller wasn't a threat to you, she wanted the money to run away from Nanrunnel, to run away from Brian Barnley with her daughter. She only dreamt of a normal stable life for herself and her daughter, she would have taken your money and disappeared from your life.'

'How could I know? How could anyone know? But it's getting late and I'm running out of patience. So I'm going to tell you what I want and you'd better give it to me or I'll shoot your precious little sergeant.'

'And we'll both lose, Mrs Wilcox, as the armed officers here will make sure you don't shoot twice. They're five; you're alone. You don't stand a chance.'

'It's a gamble worth taking. I propose an exchange, inspector: your sweetheart for my husband and two single tickets for Costa Rica.'

'I'm not allowed to negociate, Mrs Wilcox.'

'You mean you're not in a position to negotiate, dear. I saw how you looked at her this afternoon, how you kissed her hand. You were so obviously in love it was almost indecent.'

'I…'

'Oh please, don't tell me you don't love her. I won't believe…,' she cut him.

'I swear to God,' Tommy cut her in turn all nicety in his speech gone, his brown eyes black with resolve, 'that if you hurt Barbara you'll have no safe place on Earth, nowhere to hide. You think the money you made trafficking drugs will protect you? That you'll be able to buy your peace? Think twice! I'm a police officer, a seasoned detective, with a network, and more money you will ever own. I suppose you chose Costa Rica because it has no extradition treaty with the UK. That won't stop me. Once I know where you are, I'll go there, I'll find you, and I'll kill you.'

'You wouldn't break the law,' Connie replied with confidence.

'Try me,' Lynley replied defiantly.

The silence in the barn was deafening. Nobody was moving, conscious that the slightest move could trigger a chain reaction resulting in at least two casualties.

'Sir…'

Suddenly the two men Lynley had sent to fetch Connie Wilcox in the house were back, unaware of the drama that was playing in the barn. From this moment everything happened in the blink of an eye. Hearing the two men arriving behind her, Connie turned her head to check where they were. In doing so she slightly moved her arms too, and Barbara, not feeling the pressure of the gun against her skin anymore, took her chance and threw herself on the ground. The armed officers grabbed the occasion and shot. Connie dropped on the floor, severely wounded.

A policeman seized her gun as another one called an ambulance. Roy Wilcox tried to get to his wife but Pollard didn't let him do so. He took the man out to the police van that would drive him to the station. Wilcox was shouting like a mad man, calling the officers murderers. Marjory went out flanked by two uniforms. Tommy ran towards Barbara and let himself fall on the ground near her. He took her in his arms and held her so close it almost hurt. She was shaking and very nearly in shock but the presence of Lynley, his embrace, his kisses soothed her. Then she realized he was shaking too. She looked at him; he was crying.

'Oh, my love, my dearest love,' she whispered as she kissed his tears.

They somehow managed to get up and get outside, still clinging to one another. Jeremy Pollard came to them:

'You okay?' he asked with concern.

'I'm okay,' Barbara replied with a small smile.

'So I'm okay too,' Tommy said.

'We're taking Marjory and Wilcox to the nick, you want to come? We all heard Mrs Wilcox's confession so there's not much left to do, I'm sure someone could take Roy's statement for you…'

'No, no, I'll be fine. Thank you Pollard…'

'Jeremy.'

Tommy smiled.

'Yes, Jeremy. This is my investigation and I want to make sure all the loose ends are tied up properly.'

'As you want. I suppose you're coming too, Barbara?'

Barbara put her hand on Tommy's chest and smiled:

'Wherever he's going, I'm going too.'

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It was not been difficult to have Roy Wilcox confess to the murders and the drug trafficking. His wife had been declared dead on site and since the news had been broken to him the man had lost all his energy. He looked at the detectives with a vacant stare, and spoke in a monotonous voice, void of emotions. His appointed lawyer tried to postpone his hearing, putting forwards his client's state of shock but Wilcox rebuffed him, declaring he wanted to get over with all this story. So by three thirty in the morning, he signed his complete confession and Tommy and Barbara went home to Howenstow.

They were both physically and emotionally drained and remained silent all the way up to their bedrooms.

'A pretty dense night,' Tommy said softly, finally breaking the silence when they stopped in front of Barbara's room.

'Yeah. It was hard.'

Tommy gently rubbed Barbara's arm.

'Are you alright?'

'I'm fine.'

'Sure?'

'Sure, I'm fine, but…' she stopped in the middle of her sentence.

'But what?'

She looked in his eyes with the hard steely look she had when she meant business.

'…but the next time you put yourself in harm's way for me, I'll kill you myself.'

'Barbara…'

'No! Don't Barbara me…Say yes, absolutely, I'll do as you say because you're right I've been a damn fool, that mad woman could have killed me.' She wasn't joking, and Tommy couldn't contain his resentment:

'What was I supposed to do? Let her take you hostage? Let her shoot you? Let her kill you right in front of me, without even trying to help you?'

'And just how getting a bullet in your head would have helped me?'

In the heat of the argument they had both raised their voices and Lady Alice in an old pink night-dress, hair curlers all over her head, opened her door, to check who was making some noise in the corridor.

Tommy caught her eye and mouthed 'I'm sorry'. The old lady nodded in understatement and went back to bed.

Tommy took Barbara by her elbow and a bit roughly led her to his bedroom. He closed the door on them.

'Do you really think I wouldn't try anything to put you in safety?'

'Tommy…' Barbara started.

'No! You listen to me, now,' he cut her sharply. 'It's always been my worst nightmare that you might get hurt or worse while working with me. And it happened a few times, as you're well aware of. You even had a couple of short calls that scared me beyond any imagination. And we weren't even a couple back then. And Helen was murdered and I experienced the pain, the grief, the feeling that there was now a hole in my life that would never be filled again. And I don't know if it's because I'm scared to live this all over again or if it's because you mean even more to me than Helen did but I know that if I lose you it'll be worse than when I lost Helen. So I couldn't sit on my hands when you were being threatened with a gun. When…If, I'm ever able to think about what happened tonight with a cool head, I'm sure I'll agree with you that it was stupid and risky but I'm sure as hell too that under the same circumstances, God forbid, I'll do exactly the same things. You said not so long ago that I was a passionate man, well, that's part of the package. Take it all or leave it all.'

It didn't take much time for Barbara to make up her mind.

'I take it all,' she said and kissed him.

'Good choice,' he replied his lips still on Barbara's.

'A no-brainer, really.'

Tommy deepened the kiss and suddenly Barbara was on fire. She began to clumsily unbutton his shirt and he came to her rescue: he took care of his shirt while Barbara pulled over her jumper and the T-shirt under it. Tommy drew her close to him and kissed her lips, her neck as she moaned with pleasure. With an expert hand he unfastened her bra and she couldn't help but froze a little. Feeling her hesitation he looked into her eyes.

'Are you sure you want to…Are you sure you want that?'

'I've never been surer in my life about anything, Tommy,' she replied, in a husky voice. 'Well, perhaps one thing.'

'And what would that be?'

'I love you.'

Tommy buried his head in Barbara's neck and they fell on the bed.

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The following days Barbara lived in a perfect bliss. The forensic guys had found blood stains in the barn and confirmed it was Alison's. They had also confirmed the unregistered gun Connie Wilcox had pointed at Barbara was the one used to kill Lily's mother. Working hours were spent working on the latest details of the case before passing it to CPS for the prosecution. And each night, after making sure Lily was sleeping soundly in her cot, Barbara went to Tommy's bedroom. He was usually waiting for her to join him in his bed and Barbara never lost a second to put herself under the sheets. She thought Tommy was exceptional. His lovemaking was intense, playful, affectionate, and very satisfying. Nothing was off-limit for him and he had no taboo. Of the two of them he was by far the more experienced and he happily guided Barbara through the discovery of her sexuality, fondling, kissing, licking, and sucking just about every part of her body and encouraging her in her discovery of his body. This particular morning, though, as Barbara woke up, curled up against Tommy's body, sadness filled her heart. This was the day the social services would come and fetch Lily. Slowly Barbara pushed the sheets away, careful not to wake Tommy up. For a few seconds she watched him sleep peacefully until he rolled in the bed, exposing his nakedness.

'If I didn't enjoy so much what I'm seeing, my love, I'd have you nicked for indecency,' she whispered in his ear.

He groaned but didn't move so she put a light kiss on his forehead, got up and pulled the sheets up again. She put on her pyjamas and went to her bedroom to wake Lily up.

The farewells were terrible. The social worker had parked her car in the main courtyard and was assuring everyone that Lily was going to be fine but to no avail. Lily was clutching at Barbara's neck, crying her heart out, calling out equally for her mother, Barbara and Daze. Peter was nowhere in sight. He had left Howenstow at the first light of dawn, for a long ride in the countryside. Tommy, jaws clenched, was putting Lily's suitcases in the trunk of the car with uncharacteristic jerky movements. He visibly wished he could have disappeared like his brother. Lady Asherton kissed the little girl and quickly retreated back to the house. Finally, after many kisses, soothing words and a lot more crying, Lily was put in the child seat and driven off. When the car disappeared along the road, Barbara cried uncontrollably against Tommy's chest.

'I'm sorry, Barbara,' he said, holding back his tears with difficulty, 'I'm so sorry. I should never had brought Lily here. I didn't think straight. I should have known she would become attached to you and… I mean she's just lost her mother, and I wanted her to be safe and be around people who would care but I didn't think of how hard, how traumatic it would be for her, for everyone, when she had to leave.'

'You thought you were doing right,' Barbara replied between her tears.

'I was selfish.'

'She'll be alright, I'm sure. She'll find a new family, loving parents,' Barbara sobbed, trying to sound convincing.

'She deserves it.'

'Yes, she does.'

They fell silent again. After a long time, Barbara spoke:

'Tommy, I know we were supposed to leave tomorrow but I'd like to go home now. You can stay here and fly back to London tomorrow if you want.'

He didn't answer so she looked up. His eyes were still on the bend of the road where the car had disappeared.

'Tommy, what do you think?'

He emerged from his reverie, looked at her and smiled.

'I think that if we hit the road now, we'll arrive in London just in time for me to treat you to this romantic dinner we planned but never had.'

'I'm not sure I'm in the mood for anything romantic tonight. What about we buy some take-away and end up at my place? Would that do?'

He smiled fondly.

'That's perfect.'

Dear Readers, so this is it! Usually this is the time for the disclaimer but all things related to this investigation are true, I merely novelized them. I was told this story by Barbara and Tommy some years ago. I knew bits and pieces of it already but the most gruesome parts they didn't tell me since I was 18. They're married now, have been for more than 20 years, and live a happy life. Soon after their wedding they adopted Lily and, for that, I shall always be grateful to them. I love you Mum and Dad!

Lady Lily Lynley