Thank you as always to Emma and Kate for your continued support and lovely comments! Hope you are all staying safe at this uncertain time!

How he was going to introduce Graham to Gabriel without making it plain as the nose on his face what he was doing, Smithy wasn't sure but he finished his shift on the Friday with a twinge of apprehension, having a distinct feeling it would cause some trouble. Though, it was one good thing to have come out of this nightmare; finally meeting Graham, who, despite his sometimes abrupt manner, would have been the best thing to have come out of what sounded like a thoroughly miserable time for Andrea at boarding school. Smithy's eyes narrowed as he thought of her parents. They'd naturally been kept updated on the case but he was past wondering why they bothered. Even Gina, usually not shocked by anything was incredulous when she came off the phone after telling them about the progress in the case.

"'As tragic as it is, my wife and I wish to get on with our lives'," she mimicked, slamming the phone onto the cradle in disgust. "Unbelievable, he doesn't give a monkey's, her own father."

If only she could see how angry everyone was on her behalf about their lack of concern about her. If he ever came face to face with them…he slammed his locker with a clang. Better hope he never did. He'd say worse than Graham would, he was sure of it.

He passed Sheelagh and Gabriel on their way out. He knew their relationship had bemused more than a few people at the station. He could only imagine what Andrea would say. If only Sheelagh knew what she was getting herself into. Maybe someone should tell her.

"I've got to go and look in at the house," he said.

"Are you sure I can't help?"

"I'd rather not," he said. "Not until the structural problems and infestations are dealt with. It's not pleasant. Maybe when the redecorating starts. It'll be safer then."

Oh please, Smithy thought, rolling his eyes in irritation and going through the security door before his mouth said what his brain had been urging him to say for weeks. The fakery was just sickening. Oh well. He was sure Sheelagh would wake up soon without him having to open his mouth. After all, Gabriel never could keep up the Mr. Nice Guy act for very long. Soon enough, he'd show his true colours.

Andrea twisted, sliding her hand into the chains. She couldn't do that before, so unless she was very much mistaken, the chains were loosening. Well, he wasn't coming as much now. She could hardly believe her ears when he told her he'd started seeing someone, Sheelagh no less. She couldn't picture that in the slightest. Sheelagh always seemed so moral and where he was concerned, utterly uninterested. Maybe it wasn't hers to wonder why, but she had to think about something whilst she was down here. There was the distant slamming of the door and she sat down, hastily hiding the chains. She didn't want him to see them. The basement door unlocked then opened and she sat with the blanket he'd given her wrapped around her shoulders as his footsteps came down the stairs. She snatched the water bottle he gave her and gulped down quickly.

"You'll want to drink slowly. You'll make yourself sick if you do that."

She didn't bother to glare. Like he cared how sick she was. He sat down and put a sandwich by her hand. She glanced and grimaced slightly. Bacon salad. She couldn't stand bacon. But it was that, or starve. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea. Maybe then the chains would loosen quicker. She put the bottle down.

"Weird case at work today," he said and she glanced at him. "We found a girl's body last week, buried on the common. Seventeen years old. One of the tips we got was to look at her ex-boyfriend. One of her friends was interviewed and he told us and this kid had planned to kill the girl because she dumped him. As he tells it, he strangled her at the docks in her car then called this friend for a lift and made him help bury the body."

She gave him a funny look.

"He…strangled her in her car and then called a friend for a lift?"

"Yeah, so he says, why's that weird?"

She stared at him wondering if he was deliberately playing stupid. He furrowed his brow as she stared at him.

"What?"

"Why on earth would you call for a lift when you already have a car? If what this friend says is true, he killed the girl in her own car then called his friend to say "hey, come and get me?" How does that make any sense? He had her car. It's not like she could drive it if she were dead, is it? Wouldn't the smart thing to do would be to ask your friend to meet you at the common?"

She lifted her brows at him.

"No CCTV by the docks, is there?"

He shook his head, his eyes narrowing. It was so simple, yet how on earth had nobody asked what she'd spotted in mere seconds?

"I suggest you guys look at what this friend has to gain by lying. You might find that opens up a larger can of worms than he'd like."

He nodded and got to his feet.

"I have to go. I'm meeting the others down the pub."

"Well, have one for me, won't you?"

It was said without any sarcasm or attitude just utter flatness. He turned to leave then stopped.

"Didn't you ever think about it?"

"Think about what?"

"Revenge. Against your parents. Say what they will about you, everyone at the station is pretty shocked at their lack of concern. Didn't you ever want to get even?"

She managed a sad sort of smile, apparently not in the least stung about the knowledge that they didn't even care she'd vanished, presumed dead.

"What would have been the point? It wouldn't suddenly make them care. I lived my life and they live theirs. Anyway. Graham gave me everything I wanted."

"So it never crossed your mind?"

"Of course it crossed my mind. Difference is, I chose not to act on it."

He stared at her for a long moment, for the first time, wondering what would have happened if he'd never come to Sun Hill.

"Maybe if I'd had someone like Graham, then this wouldn't be happening either."

With that, he left. She glared at the staircase. Sure Gabriel. Blame everyone else. Don't take any responsibility for your own actions. She turned on the torch he'd given her when he'd brought the blanket. It wasn't the best, but it gave her some light. Though, she might not need it soon, as the days seemed to be getting longer. She stood up and twisted the chains again. They were definitely loosening. Maybe if she could get out of them, she could get to the window and shout for help. Someone might hear her. It must be worth a try. All she had to do was stop him noticing the loosening.

He got to the pub a little after nine and had just got his first pint in and a white wine for Sheelagh when the pub doors opened. He glanced up then started, his face freezing. Smithy and Graham Callahan. The man didn't seem to have aged a bit; the same dark hair, the same broad shoulders and the same scowling eyes. Trust Smithy though. Trust Smithy to build a friendship with him within weeks, when he and some of the other sailors couldn't get so much as a friendly word from him within years. He glanced at the others to see if this was a surprise to them. Gold was lowering her cigarette, her eyes narrowing slightly. Those who'd bothered to look up from their drinks were giving them more than a curious glance. Sheelagh's eyes were following them was they made their way across to their group.

"Is that him?" she said with an interest in her voice he didn't like. "Graham? Andrea's dad?"

He nodded and squeezed his pint glass so hard, it was surprised it didn't shatter.

"Foster dad," he said with an angrier edge to his tone than he meant. "Adopted dad. Whatever you like."

She gave him a wary look and he forced a smile.

"Sorry. I just don't know why she never told me."

"I didn't think you two were that close."

"No, we're not. It just might have been a conversation starter. That's all."

He watched Smithy carry out the introductions and watched Graham formally shake hands with each person in turn and approached reluctantly as Sheelagh started forwards, always eager to be friendly to new faces.

"Graham, can I get you a drink?" Smithy asked.

"Thanks. Just orange juice," Graham said.

"Right. Coming up. Anyone else?"

He took orders from those who said yes and passed Gabriel on the way to the bar, nodding at him then sniggering the moment he was out of sight. Clearly the sight of Graham had wound him up and as far as he was concerned, that was a job well done. Gabriel watched Graham make conversation with Gina. Trust him to get on with everyone he'd rather he didn't. He glanced at him and clocked him watching, excusing himself politely and approached him.

"You're Kent, aren't you?"

He nodded.

"Commander."

Graham huffed a laugh and said; "do people still call me that?"

"There is the Black Hat as well. The boys always did say they'd never meant anyone else who could hack computers as well as you."

"Well when they make it easy," said Graham and accepted the glass Smithy held out to him. "Thanks Smithy. Funny," he continued, "Andrea never once mentioned you to me."

"She never mentioned you to me either," he said evenly, conscious of Smithy listening closely.

"She usually tells me everything," he said, staring at him intently. "But she didn't tell me about you. Why would she do that?"

"Maybe she just didn't think it was that important. Did you talk about the Navy much with her?"

"Not really. It's not something we really drop into conversation, is it?"

"No," said Gabriel and shrugged. "Everybody knows I'm ex-Navy but nobody asks about it. It's like an unwritten rule or something."

Smithy observed over the rim of his pint as he watched carefully. Unless he was very much mistaken, Gabriel was ever so slightly sweating. He would hardly admit to the pleasure it gave him, but looking over his shoulder at Gina, he could see by her smirk he wasn't the only one. The door opened again and Sam came in, speaking to Suzie. Probably badmouthing the DI again, but Gabriel seemed grateful for her arrival.

"Excuse me," he said to Graham and crossed to Sam. "Serge. I was thinking on the way home. About Kieran Chambers."

"Oh?" said Sam. "Believe him when he says he didn't do it?"

"Well it's just that Brendan, the friend, claims he called him for a lift after he killed Connie, right?"

"Right?" she said, waiting with raised eyebrows.

"But he'd have Connie's car, right?"

"Sorry, I'm not with you."

He felt the urge to close his eyes. Honestly, it was no wonder Andrea got away with it for so long. And, for that matter, him.

"He would have had Connie's car. If what Brendan says is true, he killed Connie in her own car, then called him to say 'hey, come and get me'? He had her car. Why would he need a lift?"

There was quiet for a moment then Suzie muttered; "how on earth did we miss that?"

"Just a very convincing liar," Sam said, her mouth set in a hard line. As it usually did when she was proved wrong.

"I think he's lying," Gabriel continued. "And there's only one reason he'd do that."

"We'll look into it tomorrow," said Sam. "There's every chance that was his plan – call his friend for a lift to implicate him. And if not, well, Brendan's none the wiser, is he?"

She excused herself to go and buy drinks. He glared after her. Some people just hated to be proved wrong and as much he hated to admit it – it wasn't often Andrea was. Sheelagh stepped up to his side and smiled gently.

"Nicely spotted," she said. "I hadn't noticed that either."

She could always make him feel better. He smiled back and glanced at Graham who was still watching him from afar. Even all these years later, he could still make him feel uneasy. Smithy tapped his shoulder and nodded at the snooker table. He nodded and went with him without a second glance.

"Come on," he said abruptly to Sheelagh. "Shall we finish these and go? I'm a bit tired."

"How was the house?"

He groaned.

"Don't ask. Full of dry rot and damp. The surveyor thinks parts will need to be pulled down. The basement is in a state. Stairs are broken, so that needs to be looked at. I wanted to store things there."

It was true, but hadn't exactly gone the way he'd planned. He cast a glance at the others all around him. All happily oblivious, all thinking they were so smart. But he was smarter. Callahan was a dangerous ally though and he eyed the man as he took his shot at snooker. Excellent aim. Great shot, so he remembered rightly and better than him, though he hated to admit it.

"Gabriel?"

"Sorry, what?"

"How long will it take?"

He shrugged.

"Who knows? It's the cost that I worry about but I'll manage."

He downed his pint, the alcohol burning his throat.

"You ready?"

She looked pointedly at her half-full wine glass.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm rushing you. You can stay if you want. Don't let me stop you. This whole house thing has put me in a really bad mood."

Sheelagh looked wisely towards Callahan.

"Has he unnerved you a bit?"

Maybe this perceptiveness was just a woman thing.

"A bit. It's not often you run into people from the old days."

"All right, just let me finish this. I won't be long."

Graham set up the pool balls again and glanced up to see Gabriel and Sheelagh exiting the pub. He glanced at Smithy in time to see his smirk.

"Think it was something I said?"

Smithy glanced over in time to see the doors shut and shrugged.

"Maybe the housework was too much for him."

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" Graham said, taking the first shot.

"Don't know what you mean," Smithy said, taking his and smiling in satisfaction as the red ball dropped gracefully down the hole. "Remember him then, did you?"

"Yeah, when I saw him. Like I said, I'm better with faces." Graham's brow crinkled. "Though, it's strange. I thought he was the other one at first. The brother. Duncan?"

"David?" Smithy said, looking up and missing his shot.

"Yes. Though as I've said, it's not the clearest time for me. I expect I'm just misremembering. Can't even get the name right, can I? Still," said Graham and looked up with a sly smile. "Rattled his cage, didn't I?"

"Andrea will be pleased," said Smithy and nodded at his empty glass. "Another drink?"

"You're all right, I'll get these," he said and handed his cue to a nearby Steve. "Take over for a minute and remember I'm winning."

"Yeah, not for long, old man," Smithy said, taking his shot.

As Steve took the shot for Graham – surprisingly good, Smithy noted – he watched him ordering at the bar. Another orange juice, he noted and thought back to the few weeks ago – nearly a month now – that he'd seen him pour the bottle of brandy down the sink and he had the uneasy impression that if he hadn't come when he did, it would have gone down his throat instead. He thought then about Malcolm and all of the "evidence." A term that he used very loosely, despite everyone else seemingly happy. Something still just didn't sit right. He thought about Gregory Pearce, the football player Malcolm claimed he'd had the altercation with, when Andrea had been injured with the blood ending up on his shoe. There was no CCTV when they'd asked – the tapes were rewound and recorded over weekly, so the footage long gone by then, much to Malcolm's dismay. He'd insisted that they question Pearce themselves but as far as he knew, nobody had. Surely though, if Andrea did turn up or some evidence was found pointing to someone other than Malcolm, they'd be crucified.

"You all right, lad?" Graham asked, looking at him in concern.

"Yeah, fine. Just tired. Shall we wrap up?"

"Sure. I'm happy to rematch anytime. As long as you don't mind losing, again."

Smithy smiled at that. He was glad, if any good come could out of this, he and Graham had made – well, was it friends? Allies? He'd go and talk to Pearce though, for his own peace of mind if nothing else.

He was on the lates so could go in the morning. The beauty of the internet meant he could just type a few words into google to know where to find him. He'd transferred out of Canley football club not too long after the article outing him was published. Didn't take a genius to work out it was related. He'd read the article and had been disgusted at the sheer vindictiveness of it. Definitely not Andrea's style, though he'd hardly admit to going through the archives to read her articles, though they didn't always appear under her name. He arrived at Hartford football club at ten and the receptionist directed him towards the gym.

"Can I help?" asked the personal trainer, one of those overly-muscled men, who he'd investigate for steroid use if he didn't have other things on his mind.

"Yeah," he said and flashed his warrant card. "I'm looking for Gregory Pearce."

The personal trainer's eyes narrowed.

"Greg's a good man."

"I'm sure. I still need to speak to him. Is he here?"

After a minute, he pointed to a man at the rowing machine, a man he recognised from the article. He thanked the personal trainer and made his way over.

"Excuse me, Mr Pearce?"

Gregory Pearce looked up distractedly with a confused smile then wariness as he clocked the warrant card in Smithy's hand.

"Sergeant Smith. Sun Hill."

Pearce stopped what he was doing and stood up, wiping his sweaty brow with a towel.

"What can I do for you, Sergeant?"

"Is there somewhere a bit more private we can go?"

Pearce glanced at his teammates, some of whom were shooting them eyebrow raised looks. His own face flushed. Pearce's lips thinned.

"Here's fine for me. Shall we go over here?" he said and nodded at the relatively empty stretching area.

"It's about a few months ago. When a certain article appeared about you in the Daily News."

"What about it?" Pearce asked, the anger in his tone telling Smithy the thought still made his blood boil.

"I understand you had certain objections to it," he said. "You went to the news office to confront the editor. Bruce Malcolm."

"Actually, I went to find the snake, Logan Lockwood. He wrote the article, but it was given the green light by Malcolm. Just my luck I run into him first. Smug asshole. He can put what he likes in the paper, it's in the public's interest to know about the queer in their local team. He had every right to publish it."

Pearce picked up a heavy dumbbell, his mouth twisting into an ugly sneer. Smithy watched him warily, imagining that he was fantasizing about smashing it into Malcolm's face.

"It got me ran out of Canley football club, did you know that? My father won't talk to me anymore, my mother is torn between us and the big brother I used to worship gave me a black eye. And he tells me he had the right to publish it? Is that what this is about? The scumbag made a complaint? Well yes. I hit him, officer."

Smithy stared and Pearce's eyes widened.

"Wait, isn't that why you're here?"

"No. Not exactly. Was there anyone else there during this altercation with Mr Malcolm?"

"Anyone else…you mean the girl?" Pearce put down the dumbbell and sighed. "Is that what this is? That was an accident. She got in the way."

"There was someone else there then?"

"Yes, like I just said. A girl."

"Is this her?" Smithy said and showed him a photograph of Andrea.

Pearce nodded.

"Yeah, that's her. She shouted at us to stop fighting. Then she tried to intervene." He gave her smiling face a guilty glance. "She got hit. It was an accident!

"It would be helpful if you could tell me exactly what happened."

"Well like I said, the jerk and I were fighting, she tried to break us up and she got punched in the face." He looked at the floor and muttered, ashamed; "I think it was me. I really didn't mean to hurt her. It broke us up anyway. I helped her up. Her nose was bleeding quite badly. I take it she was one of his staff, being there, but he didn't seem to care less. Shouted at her that it was her own fault for getting in the way. I asked if she wanted me to take her to the hospital but she declined. I really didn't mean to hurt her. Does she want to press charges?"

"No." Smithy looked down at the photograph. "She's missing."

"What and you think I had something to do with it? I don't even know her, I haven't seen her before or since."

Pearce paused and held out his hand for the photo. Smithy handed it over and studied it closely. Then his eyes widened.

"Wait…she was on the news, wasn't she?"

Pearce looked up at him, his face white.

"I haven't…"

"Don't worry. You're not a suspect. Bruce Malcolm has been arrested on suspicion of her…her murder."

"Then why've you come to see me?" Pearce said quietly, passing the photograph back.

"When he was arrested, her blood was found on his shoes. He claimed it happened during the altercation. Unfortunately, there's no longer any CCTV of the incident. I was wondering if you could confirm it."

"What, if he had any of her blood on him? I don't know. She may well have done. When she got hit, she fell backwards into him. So yes, it's possible, but I can't tell you for sure."

"Can you remember what he was wearing?"

Pearce smiled ruefully.

"I didn't really take any notice. All I could see was his ugly, smug face."

"All right. If we need you for a statement, would you be happy to make one? Just what you've told me."

"Of course."

"And if you can remember anything else, will you give me a call?"

"Sure," Pearce said, taking Smithy's card. "I'd really better get on now."

"Right. Sorry to have interrupted you. Thanks for your time, Mr Pearce."

He couldn't not confess to what he'd done, but to her credit, Sam listened, with her arms crossed tightly across her chest, her eyes growing narrower and narrower until they resembled slits.

"Why?" she hissed. "When we've all but got Malcolm bang to rights!"

"What we've got, without a body, is circumstantial evidence and you know that as well as I do," Smithy said patiently. "Look, I'm sorry Sam, I didn't want to go behind your back, but what about when this goes to court and we hadn't questioned Pearce? He confirms what Malcolm said!"

"Oh right. Confirms he saw her blood fall onto his shoe, does he?"

"Well, no," Smithy admitted. "Actually, he can't even remember what Malcolm was wearing but that's beside the point. He can confirm that Andrea was there and she got hit when she tried to break up the fight. Just because he didn't see it, it doesn't mean it didn't happen. That blood could have got there when she got hurt."

"Or it could have got there when he was caving her head in with a rolling pin!"

A pained look crossed Smithy's face. Sam sighed.

"Smithy, I'm sorry. I know you and Graham don't want to believe it. I don't either."

"You don't?"

"What do you take me for Smithy?" Sam said sharply. "Of course I don't. I'm angry, of course I am. So is everyone else and they have the right to be. But the very last thing I ever wished her is harm."

He swallowed hard.

"She's not dead, Sam."

"And if I could take your intuition as evidence, I would. But it actual evidence speaks for itself."

She watched as he tried to wipe away a tear, pretending he had a trapped eyelash.

"Were you together long?" she asked.

"Nothing gets past you, does it?"

"Were you?"

"No." He kicked his feet on the floor. "Since about Christmas. Felt like a lot longer."

"All right," she said finally. "I'll get Pearce in for a full statement."

"Thank you," he said. "I'm sorry. I know I should have told you first. But what if she does turn up? Or if some other evidence turns up? Or if when it does go to trial, the defence calls Pearce as a witness? They find out we never questioned him and Malcolm walks? If he is guilty, what will people think of us then?"

"Bad," she said and suddenly her voice was stern. "And I know exactly what you mean by other evidence. And there's no evidence that points to Gabriel either."

"Of course there wouldn't be," he said. "If he was trying to cover his tracks."

"You really think he's killed her and framed Malcolm to cover his own back."

"Why wouldn't he? Look at what she thought he'd done. This job is the most important thing to him. Well, that and Sheelagh. Funny how anything and anyone who threatens that seems to come to harm."

"Look, if it makes you feel any better, I found it all a bit too easy as well. Someone as sly as Malcolm just leaving everything in the open for all of us to find. But look what we know about sexual predators. They build their way up with assault with Amber Wade and Sophie Craven and then it builds up to…"

Smithy's jaw tightened and his eyes darkened in anger.

"I looked into it," she said, deciding it was best to change the subject. "I looked into all her accusations against PC Kent. I couldn't find anything in it. I don't know, maybe I don't have the resources she did. But there's nothing. I'm so sorry Smithy. I can see you have feelings for her and I know you and Graham don't want to think she's dead. Or about how it happened. But if she really found something out about Gabriel, do you really think she'd just sit on it, however much fear he put into her? I know how seriously she took this job. She would never just sit on it."

"Unless he shut her up before she could," he said. "Think about it, Sam. We all knew who she would. He would never be able to trust her to keep quiet."

"I'll keep my eyes open Smithy," she said. "I promise. But until I get anything to prove he had anything to do with her disappearance and by that, obviously framing Malcolm, I can't make any accusations. But I give you my word, I'll keep an open mind."

"Thank you," he said. "I mean it, thank you."

"Right. Well, I'd better get Mr. Pearce in," she said. "And notify Mr Malcolm's solicitor. But thanks Smithy. You probably saved us getting sued twelve ways to Sunday either way."

He nodded and she left. He sank into his seat and took her letter from his drawer again, the paper now flat, even though he'd crumpled it up. He read the words hungrily, even though he'd all but memorised them, as if he'd find some hidden meaning in them. But it was the same; a short explanation, an emotional apology and, as he was determined, not the last he'd ever hear from her.

"I'll find you," he said. "I promise."