It was impossibly late when Lewis finally crawled into bed. Despite his tiredness, he lay, wide awake, thinking inevitably of Laura. Who was he kidding? After all, what would she ever see in him – an unsophisticated DI, approaching retirement, many – too many - years her senior? Having managed to fathom subjectively his own feelings towards her, he now perceived the objective viewpoint with painful clarity. Laura – beautiful, clever, warm and funny as she was – shouldn't be wasting her time with a greying, burnt-out detective, whose expanding gut was matched only by the rapidity with which he was approaching retirement. No, Laura should of course be with someone like DCI Ross, all erudite charm, tall broad shoulders and an already successful career continuing on its stellar trajectory. Someone like Ross would be far better placed to offer Laura the life she deserved – someone to feel proud of as they walked through the streets together, arm in arm; someone who would take her to places and talk to her about high brow issues in politics and art. Someone who would easily manage to whisk her away to the Glyndeborne, all champagne and strawberries, instead of being thwarted at every turn; someone who preferred Michelin stars to curries and beer; a man who was in control of himself and his emotions, without the baggage of a love lost and overwhelming memories which rendered him at best unbearably moody, or at worst utterly speechless.
Yes, someone like Ross would be an undoubtedly better suitor.
Laura too found herself restless and sleepless. Yet her insomnia stemmed partly from indulging in the sheer heaven of the memory of Robbie in her kitchen earlier and the words she was certain he had been meaning to say... and partly (and less pleasantly) from the nagging doubts of the journey home in the patrol car. How typical, she reflected, it had become in the non-starter of her 'relationship' with Robbie that things had come so close and yet ultimately remained so far. Altered in an instant. It never seemed to change; never seemed to get any easier. And here she was, holding on to a hope like some tragic, lovelorn spinster.
They'd been so close this evening to bridging the invisible gap between fond friends (perhaps too fond) and something more, and, once again, work had intervened. Perhaps they were doomed. Or perhaps it was just an excuse. Perhaps Robbie had been grateful for the get out clause represented by Hathaway's urgent phone call about Ryan. He'd certainly changed his demeanour in the car home. Or perhaps he was simply tired… or feeling awkward because of the proximity of Hathaway and the other officers. Yes, it had to be that. She refused to believe it had anything to do with the silly exchange between Ross and her. Robbie was a better man than that.
"Shouldn't you be at home?" Laura ventured, cautiously, as Ryan appeared in the lab the next morning.
"My home is in London." Ryan stated, perfunctorily. "I simply cannot sit and stare at the walls of a hotel room all day. I'll go mad."
"Fair point."
"Have there been any developments in identifying your attacker?"
"None yet, but the usual door-to-door and CCTV stuff has started. Not to mention having a DCI sticking his nose in."
Laura laughed. "Yes, we saw DCI Ross at the hospital last night."
"Hmm." Ryan muttered, absently, gathering her post from her pigeon hole. Clearly a touchy subject, thought Laura.
Laura returned to checking her emails, but was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath from Ryan.
"Is everything OK?" Laura looked up.
Ryan was clutching a piece of paper torn from an envelope and looked suddenly pale.
"What is it?" Laura slid from her chair.
Reluctantly, Ryan showed her the piece of paper. It was scrawled with the words "You smug bitch", a chilling echo of the words of her attacker.
"Wait there. I'll get an evidence bag to put it in and call CID." Laura whispered. "Is there a post mark?"
"Nope." Ryan swallowed. "Looks like it was hand-delivered."
It was DCI Ross who responded to the call.
"Oh, for God's sake, Peter." Was Ryan's dismissive reaction to his appearance a few minutes later at the lab. "Haven't you got better things to do?"
"As it turns out, no." Ross responded, good-naturedly. "I was twiddling my thumbs until my next seminar."
Ryan sighed, indignantly, and handed him the letter, which Laura had by now secreted inside a transparent evidence bag.
"Any ideas as to whom this is from?" Ross inspected the letter and cut to the chase.
"Nope." Ryan muttered, almost defiantly.
"Oh come on, Sam!" Ross scoffed. "What've you been up to?"
"Piss off, Peter." Ryan's tone was both defensive and bitter, uncaring as to how unprofessional this sounded in front of Laura.
"Sorry." Ross attempted a gentler approach, "I'm just trying to help."
Ryan fixed him with a look. Laura found it strangely comforting to watch this heated exchange between to co-workers who were clearly more than just colleagues… or at least at some stage had been so.
"I've honestly got no idea." Ryan relented after a moment of tense silence.
"Well, I'll get it off for finger printing straight away."
"It looks like it was hand-delivered." Ventured Laura, with concern.
"Yes, I saw that." Mused Ross. "I'll get someone to keep an eye on you." He looked pointedly at Ryan.
"Peter, I'm at work. What could possibly happen here?" Ryan had experienced oafish police babysitters before and was keen to avoid a repeat.
"All right, but don't leave without letting me know. And we'll get someone to see you home tonight."
Ryan shrugged and turned back to her post. "Thank you." She muttered, quietly, almost by way of an afterthought.
At his request, Laura accompanied Ross to the department entrance, ostensibly under the guise of ensuring he did not get lost.
"Thanks, Doctor." He smiled, warmly.
"No problem."
"So, are you enjoying working with Professor Ryan?" He asked, the brightness in his eyes betraying his obvious suspicions about the two pathologists' likely working dynamic.
"Um… yes!" Laura's slight hesitation made her true feelings abundantly clear. "She's an outstanding practitioner," she garbled, over-enthusiastically, to compensate, "I'm learning a great deal from her."
Ross laughed, heartily, in secret understanding. Laura noted that she was beginning to like the DCI.
"She's all right, once you get to know her." Ross confided. "Her bark's worse than her bite. Works insanely hard. Utterly dedicated to the job. A good colleague to have."
Laura nodded.
"So…" Ross' warmth suddenly subsided and he looked a little boyish and shy. "Do you fancy grabbing that coffee sometime?"
"Erm…" Laura looked up at the tall, affable man in front of her, taking in the kind, attractive face and its expectant expression. What harm would a coffee do? He'd be going back to London soon and, besides, there was no indication that this had to be anything more than platonic. "Yeah, why not?"
"My morning seminar finishes at 1pm. How about I swing by after that? We could even stretch it to lunch."
"Great." She smiled. "See you then."
Author's note: Hope you are still managing to wade through the ramblings of my Lewis subconscious. Thank you for the reviews - it's lovely to hear what people think - even if it's just a quick message to say hello. I'm enjoying writing it, but it makes it even better to know that people are reading it ;) I suppose that's the whole point of storytelling...