Dempsey sees the phone on the coffee table and takes Harry's hand as he dials up the SI-10 office and briefly speaks to Spikings who is there, where else. His boss is immediately in action. Uniform will arrive any second.
Spikings asks for Harry, who is still shaking but she takes the phone and answers the Welshman's questions calmly. Dempsey is grateful to his boss for reading between the lines and giving him time to think about his next actions. The temptation is to beat the crap out of Makepeace but it adds more power to his case. Dempsey understands that it's the last thing he ought to do even if his palms are itching with need. When Harry puts down the phone, he looks across, to offer reassurance.
"Is there an exit out the garden?" He looks over to the back of the house. Certain that there is but keeping her talking is a place to start.
"Yes, from the kitchen door… there's a gate, it leads to the street behind." Harry frowns as she speaks, doing her best to concentrate. "He can't get into the back garden without coming through the house."
Dempsey takes her hands within his, seeing signs of panic. 'Breath nice an' slow with me, Harry." And he does just that too, making her match him, breath for breath, "You with me on this?"
She nods and keeps her focus on him. One more kick of the door and he fears that she'll sink under the weight of her past and he won't let that happen to her. Dempsey cups his hands around her head, over her ears to block out the sounds and is taken by surprise when she kisses him chastely and speaks clearer than before, "Still with you, James."
"The garden is the back-up, just in case." He says. He doesn't need one, he's almost certain he can take out one angry ex, but it's good to have a plan B. "I want you to stay in the kitchen, keep the door closed until I say it's okay. Are you comfortable with that?"
"What are you going to do?" Harry jumps as the door takes another kicking but she's still breathing slowly, controlling her panic. She's also watching Dempsey morph into a cop. It's quietly fascinating, and distracting her, because he's utterly unaware of the subtle changes in his character. All at once he seems taller and stronger than before and he's unwittingly giving her courage.
"I'm gonna take a look. He's not coming in, I promise." Then, carefully so as not to shock her, Dempsey pulls his Magnum from his holster.
She nods, knowing that she has to trust him. "It's Robert that I'm afraid of, not you."
Dempsey can't help but feel amused as Robert Makepeace takes a tumble down the steps, away from him when he emerges from the door. He knows he can be intimidating. In truth, he has no idea what to do, but the scum at his feet doesn't need to know this. This is way beyond anything he has experienced before and there's a fine line between defending Harry and doing his job, and making the case worse. He starts off simple. "You've broken the terms of the restraining order."
"She's broken the terms of our marriage." Robert Makepeace spits.
Dempsey debates calling him out on terms. The word makes his blood chill. There's no mistaking that the arrangement with Harry was business and never made with love or respect.
Robert Makepeace isn't much taller than Harry. Dempsey guesses that, in heels she's a good few inches over him, which explains her flat shoes which he'd spotted in the house. Not something he'd ordinarily recall but now it comes to mind like pieces of a jigsaw. His hands aren't as well manicured as his job might entail, indicating dirty work at some point. He's wiry, all skin and bone. If it wasn't for his well-spoken voice, Dempsey could mistake him for the runt in a bunch of Cockney bank robbers staring in an Ealing comedy. His hair flops over his eyes and there's bum fluff on his face from a few days of unshaven living. Dempsey understands why he needs the likes of Keith Ryman to do his dirty work and why mental torture of his wife was more or less his method. Dempsey concludes with much satisfaction, that he could steal the life from this bastard in under a minute. Holding him up, off of his feet, against the wall, with his fingers around his windpipe feels agreeable.
"And she can do you for unreasonable behaviour." Dempsey replies, rolling up his sleeves to show his strength, and calmly releases the catch on the gun. As he predicted, it scares the shit out of the other man.
Robert Makepeace eyes the Magnum and then looks at Dempsey's badge. "Should've known she'd climb into bed with the law… I've come to claim my wife." The last two words are hissed and his spit flies on Dempsey's arm.
The American drops down a step so he's almost level and watches as Robert Makepeace darts around him and back towards the house. He's unwittingly made life easier as it takes just moments to wrap the man's arms back around his body and hold him against the wall, using it as both leverage and a trap. Dempsey rests the cool barrel of his gun against Robert's neck. "You and me are gonna stay here until my pals from uniform turn up. One more word out of your mouth and I'll shoot. That ain't a question you have to answer, it's a fact."
He's still relieved when the police car draws up outside, the blue lights flicking onto Makepeace's face make him look like a devilish weasel. It takes all of Dempsey's patience to not react in anger.
Inside her home, Harry can't get her legs to move to the kitchen even though that's what Dempsey asked her to do. In the distance, she can hear sirens. Thank goodness. Then a rush of cold air as the door opens and just a quick she hears it close. Peeking from the living room she waits with breath held as Dempsey holds Robert firm against the door he was kicking down.
"There you are." Robert lunges forward, "My wife. You need to come home now."
"She's going nowhere with you." Dempsey hauls Robert bodily backwards, glancing at Harry to check how she's holding up. Her face is stoney and pale, as if carved from marble and unreadable. He's stunned to see her outside.
"I only wanted to speak to you." Robert pleads and it's only then that Harry sees how ill he looks. As if he's been sleeping rough and barely functioning. How little she feels for him, the only emotion she can summon up is pity.
"You've broken the restraining order I placed on you, we have nothing left to say to each other." Harry hopes her voice sounds stronger than she feels. "Please, I want you to leave me alone."
"You're mine." He urges, wriggling and she thinks of snakes and venom. There's an urge to hiss at him, so she does.
"I was never yours. You never understood that the marriage isn't about owning anyone, I'm not a piece of property. The only woman you vaguely cared for was Angie but I don't think you loved her. I don't think you're capable." She watches Dempsey's grim face as he immediately proceeds to place him under arrest, giving him no right to reply. The man she once was married to is pushed unceremoniously into the police car and driven away.
Dempsey contemplates his actions as he stands beside her and they watch patrol car disappear from view. It's a rare behaviour for him. He's a shoot and leave man, and tackle the consequences later both in love and work. But it's felt for a while that this breakdown of her marriage is a battle they both share. He isn't sure if he did right by Harry, or himself. Could he handle all this?
"James?" Her voice disturbs his reflections as she looks from the door. He follows her inside, wondering what happens next.
"I'm so sorry about this." Harry begins, sitting down on the sofa, where they began with none of the mood that they'd enjoyed. She looks towards the door for a moment as if she can still hear Makepeace's voice but chooses to take Dempsey's hand and link their fingers together. Her voice wobbles as she speaks, taking a deep breath that judders as she does so. "I don't blame you for walking away. I honestly won't hold it against you." She waves her hands at the door and brushes away tears from her eyes with her free hand.
Dempsey moves closer, bracing his legs around her. She rests her forehead against his, uncertain of what to do, the butterflies in her stomach beating against the bars of the cage, as she tries to fathom what's just happened. He moves forward, and there's a warm finger under her chin, raising her head to his. She thinks he wants to kiss her.
"This is almost too much to ask, but I'd rather you left than kiss me if you don't mean it."