"Sam, it's ok, I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here because as much as it pains me to admit it, I need your help." Hugh stepped backwards hoping to demonstrate to Sam that he had no intention of making a grab for her. Instincts telling her not to trust him for a moment, Sam grabbed a long knife from the block beside the sink, never once taking her eyes off the intruder.
"My help!" Sam screamed at him. "You arrange for my grandson to be abducted and then not content with that you make sure the house he's staying in is burnt to the ground. And you're asking for my help? What is it you want me to do for you Hugh, get Abi out of the way so you can finish the job you started? Get out of my house before I slice you limb from limb." Sam spat murderously, adrenaline and anger driving her onwards.
"I never harmed him; the bomb, the abduction, the fire – none of them had anything to do with me, not in the way you think. If I was behind it, do you think I'd be here now? Do you think I'd have been sent one of these?" Hugh produced a folded piece of A4 paper bearing an identical message to the one Jo had taken off Sam at the hospital but where Sam's had read 'Suffer The Children', Hugh's stated chillingly, 'For The Sins Of The Father'.
"Not this time Hugh, I'm not biting. I know you sent that to me, to remind me of the power games you love to play so much." The knife shook in Sam's hand, her rage threatening to spill out of control. She cursed herself as she realised her mobile was still upstairs by the bed, the landline handset in the hallway beyond Hugh.
"I admit that I got Abi to come to the prison to get at you; I wanted to make sure you knew I was appealing my sentence. But that's all I did, I swear on my son's life." Something about Hugh's protestation wrangled with Sam's conscience, the knife lowering ever so slightly, sub-consciously.
"Jo'll be back any minute, she'll make you wish you'd never been born." Sam's eyes flicked to the front door over Hugh's shoulder, a petrifying thought striking her. "How did you get in here?"
"I had a set of keys cut from Abi's when she was living with me. Just hear me out and then I'll go, I promise." Hugh pleaded, tucking his copy of the note back into his jacket pocket. When Sam said nothing, he took that as permission to continue. "Years ago, I made a mistake. It's coming back to haunt me now – someone is trying to use Joey to hurt me. I need you to look into a Ciaran O'Rourke, see where he is, what he's doing but you'll have to be discrete about it. He has friends everywhere it would seem." The name froze Sam's blood in her veins, recognising it instantly as the name Phil had mentioned earlier, the man who James King had phoned following Phil's visit.
Recovering instantly and not wanting to show her hand too soon, Sam asked, "and why would I want to do any digging on anyone for you? Next thing I know, they end up dead and I'm looking at a conspiracy charge. You shot a man in cold blood, Jack Meadows watched you do it! I have absolutely no reason or desire to believe or trust you. If you leave now of your own accord, I might consider giving you a head start before I set my colleagues on your trail." Sam scoffed at the suggestion she would take anything he said seriously.
"I got his daughter pregnant but she lost the baby for which he blames me. I can only surmise that he found out about my having a son and wants to even the score. If you don't take this seriously, you'll be putting Joey's life in greater danger. At least make sure someone watches him and Abi at all times." Hugh insisted.
"What makes you so sure they aren't already under police guard?" Sam asked, fear pricking her senses.
"Because I've been to the hospital this afternoon and I didn't see a single officer there, not so much as a security guard in sight." Hugh admitted chillingly. "Come on Sam, think about it. If I wanted to kill Joey and or Abi, knowing that they're at the hospital unguarded, do you really think I'd be here begging for your help? I'll be in touch to see what you've found out." Hugh rushed around Sam as he heard the front gate open making a break for the backdoor. Sam replaced the knife into the block, calmly closing the door behind him and turning to face Jo with a beaming smile as she walked through the front door, not ready to share her experience with anyone else just yet.
"Hey, you're supposed to be resting!" Jo admonished gently, unable to remain gruff in the face of Sam's sweet grin.
"I was too restless." Sam lied easily, feeling guilty all the same as she made a mental note to get the locks changed as soon as possible.
"Well, I got a variety of options for sandwiches, two pints of milk, a loaf of bread and some salad ingredients." Jo laid her purchases on the counter leaving Sam to decide what she wanted while she returned the change to Sam's purse, considering replacing the photograph but reluctant to part with it just yet.
"Jam?" Sam queried with raised eyebrows as Jo re-entered the kitchen.
"A girl's gotta have something to put on her toast in a morning!" Jo grinned broadly taking the jar from Sam's outstretched hand and placing it in the cupboard above the toaster.
"You're planning on staying then." It was more of a statement than a question, one tinged with a thrill of excitement and hope.
"If you'll have me?" Jo retorted, a little apprehensive in case she was totally misreading the signals, her synapses still liable to the odd misfire.
"Of course I will Jo, you shouldn't need to ask." Sam continued to root in the bags of goodies Jo had brought in with her, pulling out an fluffy, incredibly cute toy rabbit. "Bit old for this aren't you?" Sam teased her lover. Jo thought of what she would like to cuddle in bed and it definitely didn't have long, floppy ears, glad she could excuse her blush as a result of Sam's question.
"Oh yeah, I owe you for that. It's for Joey, I thought he might find it comforting. He looked so little, so lost in that cot." Jo mumbled bashfully, taking the soft yellow rabbit and absent-mindedly playing with its ears.
"Sam, are you still awake?" The softly spoken question was barely audible to the petite blonde as she sat propped up against her pillows reading.
"Yeah, come in" She called to her late night visitor. As Jo entered, a sheepish expression adorning her attractive face, Sam asked, "what's up? You need something?"
"I was sort of hoping I might be able to sit with you for a while. I can't sleep, every time I close my eyes I keep seeing all these disjointed images going through my mind. I have no idea whether they're things I should remember, or my imagination playing tricks on me. It's getting to be like white noise, always there in the background but easier to ignore when I'm with people. When I'm on my own, it's deafening and frustrating…" Sam tossed aside the duvet beside her on the bed patting the space, inviting Jo to join her. Warning bells sounded their klaxons in her head at the thought of such intimate proximity to Jo, knowing she would have to exercise every last ounce of self control. Whilst she had resigned herself to being a friend to the brunette, the more her personality re-asserted itself, the harder it became to ignore the deep-seated attraction she had always felt to the buxom northerner.
"…and somewhat disconcerting I should imagine. Hop in, it's too cold to be out from under a duvet." The compassionate blonde smiled at her housemate.
"I'm not going to suffer a relapse of hypothermia just because I get a bit chilly, Sam." Jo returned the smile as she perched awkwardly at the foot of Sam's bed.
"I know that, I just don't believe in being uncomfortable if you don't have to – and being cold is definitely uncomfortable." Sam explained, raising her eyebrows as she once again patted the empty space beside her. Relenting with a sigh, Jo climbed into the vacant spot, relishing the heat as Sam guided the duvet over her body. Sam was quiet for a few moments as Jo made herself at home, watching her struggle to arrange pillows behind her, still hampered by her healing rib fractures. "Let me give you a hand with that." Sam reached over before Jo could protest, holding the pillows in place with one hand and guiding Jo back onto them with the other.
"Thanks." Jo swallowed, her mouth and throat suddenly parched at the feel of Sam touching her so tenderly whilst lying in bed together. Thinking back to her find earlier in Sam's purse, emotions chased through her body, swiftly followed by a surge of arousal which settled achingly at the apex of her thighs.
Watching the rapidly changing expressions flash across Jo's face and assuming she was being bombarded by more visions, Sam asked gently, "want to talk about the images?" Sam picked up her book, which she had placed face down on the covers when Jo had entered the room, twisting to place it on her bedside cabinet.
"Not really." Jo answered, not ready to share these particular thoughts with the petite blonde yet, unsure what to make of them herself. "What are you reading?" The brunette craned her neck to try and see what the book was Sam had been engrossed in.
"Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistlestop Café." Sam informed her, waiting to see if it triggered any sort of memory in the woman who had recommended the book to her.
Smiling fondly, a look of mild surprise on her face, Jo admitted, "I love that book, I think it's one of my favourite reads of all time. I remember the first time I finished it, I wanted to start it all over again just so I could keep reading about the characters. Are you enjoying it? I wouldn't have thought that your style."
"Mmm yeah, it's great. Really heart warming in places and tear-jerking in others. So, what would you have guessed my style was then, if you had to pick one? Who would you think I'd read?" Sam asked with a twinkle in her eye.
"I don't know, something more intellectually challenging I suppose. Something along the lines of 'Sophie's World' maybe or some of the classics, 'Wuthering Heights' perhaps with all that drama. Or maybe psychological thrillers – given that you have this obsession with getting into the minds of criminals; I'll bet you're one of those that loves to read Patricia Cornwell, PJ Tracy, Karin Slaughter and the like to see if you can solve the crimes before the perpetrator's revealed." Jo warmed to her dissection as she spoke, studying Sam's face for any kind of reaction, strangely elated when a hint of a blush crept up from her neck.
"Did you never consider profiling? You'd be a natural with your astute observations." Sam mentioned noncommittally, neither confirming Jo's thoughts to be correct, nor dismissing them out of hand. In truth, Sam was feeling rather giddy, hoping that some part of Jo remembered the long discussions they had had about books they had both read, so accurate was her prediction.
"Not really my style, sitting around in a room trying to look into the criminal mind. I'd rather be out there finding them so that I can look into their eyes as I arrest them instead."
"Yeah…at all costs." Sam murmured, shivering at the memories of the moment she had learned of Jo's plunge into the river.
Jo pushed her hand into the pocket of the jeans she was still wearing, catching the edge of the photograph with her fingers. "You know, when I woke up in the hospital, I couldn't imagine you and I ever being friends, let alone sharing a house. All I could see was the self-righteous, impetuous, stubborn sergeant who'd screwed everything up between me and Seth. I'm sorry if I was rude to you; I'm glad you gave me a chance to see past that again. That said… I'm still not sure we can be friends…"