Sheelagh had a restless night, not for the first time in recent weeks. Even Patrick noticed, and that was saying something, though it was true he didn't think much about it. Sheelagh did though. She didn't like feeling unsettled, especially when she couldn't exactly pinpoint the cause. Sure, she'd been a little on edge at work since Des Taviner had made a pass at her, but they'd got past that. Investigating that spate of pensioner burglaries on the Coal Lane had helped and she could look at him as a colleague again.
CID were clamping down on crack dens today and she was co-ordinating one of the raids with SO19. Although she hadn't seen Sam this morning, Gina said that she'd requested her as a safe pair of hands for what could be a tricky operation, and she was prepared to throw herself into it. However, she was required first in custody where Tony handed her some property that had been left in the cells. Once she realised what it was – and who had caused it to be left there while looking, as Tony put it, 'worse for wear' – a latent concern reignited. Finally, she managed to grab hold of Nick Klein and summoned him into her office.
'I thought I told you to come back to work when you felt better,' she said.
'Yeah,' he muttered. 'I do.'
'So how come you failed to conduct a proper search on a prisoner?' she questioned.
Unease flickered across his face. 'Why, what happened?'
'We found two stolen credit cards in the cell of a prisoner you'd arrested after he'd been released without charge.'
'I'm sorry,' mumbled Nick.
'Sorry doesn't cut it,' Sheelagh replied. 'I want to know why it happened.'
He swallowed. 'I didn't sleep last night, Sarge. I've been prescribed anti-depressants and sleeping tablets and, well, the side effects are pretty bad.'
She sighed, but she got the impression she'd let him off too easily the last time they'd been at this crossroads. Realising he needed to be certain of the seriousness of the situation, she said, 'I feel for you, Nick. But I have to ask myself how much use you are to us when you're like this. Now, you go to a doctor and you get this sorted. Once and for all.'
'Okay,' Nick murmured as she opened the door for him.
She barely had time to think over that conversation as she absorbed herself in the raid. At least Nick wasn't involved in the operation so she didn't have to keep a special eye on him as well as focusing on what she actually needed to be doing.
SO19 burst into the house first, taking the occupants by surprise. Sheelagh and her officers followed, she and Honey Harman taking the upstairs with a couple of armed officers. SO19 had deemed one of the rooms clear so she entered alone, intending to check for evidence of drug use to catalogue later. Before she realised what was happening, she'd been grabbed from behind, something hard and metallic pressed into her throat.
She couldn't see her attacker, but she couldn't think about much beyond the fact that she couldn't breathe. Desperately, she clawed at the bar, feeling her body grow heavier as her lungs screamed for oxygen. In the distance she could hear someone calling for her then the door burst open and Des entered. When he met her eye Sheelagh saw pure loathing there before he focused on her assailant.
'If you don't let her go, mate, I'm gonna kill you,' he said. 'I'm being very serious, but I might reconsider if you put the bar down.'
Sheelagh felt herself drifting, as though she was about to lose consciousness. Maybe Des saw that in her eyes. He darted forward, jamming his body into her attacker and giving Sheelagh chance to rush out of the way. As she gasped for breath, he slammed him against the wall.
'Stay still, you maggot,' he yelled.
The look on Des's face scared her – he did look like he was about to beat the junkie to a pulp. 'Des!' she shouted, clutching her throat.
Keeping one hand on the prisoner, he looked back to her and snapped, 'I think the word you're looking for is thank you.'
She nodded then, without sparing her another glance, he dragged the man out of the room and almost threw him down the stairs. Sheelagh followed slowly, trying to ignore the gnawing in her stomach and focusing on the pain under her chin instead. Brushing off concern from Honey Harman and Gary Best, she slotted into the van and passed the journey back to Sun Hill in silence.
With as much professionalism as she could muster, she supervised the booking-in of several of the prisoners then checked the constables knew who they were interviewing and what they needed to pass up to CID. Only then did she succumb to the urge to retreat into the bathroom. She removed the top layers of her uniform then unbuttoned the first few buttons of her shirt, ashamed to see her hands were shaking.
Before she could bear to turn her eyes to the mirror, though, the door opened. She jumped and was about to rebutton her shirt when she realised it was Sam who had steamed through the door.
'Sheelagh,' she said, the worry in her voice obvious, 'I've been looking everywhere for you. Gary told me what...' Trailing off, Sam halted and reached out a finger to her chin, tilting it upwards. 'Let me see.'
She was unused to being scrutinised like this, though the novelty was increased by the fact that it was Samantha Nixon's forehead creased with concern. After a few moments, Sam let her hand drop and Sheelagh exhaled.
'Not too bad,' Sam said.
Sheelagh glanced into the mirror and had that fact confirmed. Her eyes met Sam's reflection and she tried to smile. 'It just shook me up a little, that's all.'
'No wonder, you're allowed to be shaken.'
'Would you be?' she returned.
Sam leaned against the sink. 'Maybe in front of you, on the proviso you didn't say anything.'
'Does that work both ways?' asked Sheelagh.
'Course,' Sam said with a twitch of her lips.
Swallowing, she redid the top buttons on her shirt and set about pulling her uniform back together. 'You should get back to work. I hear you're snowed under.'
Sam nodded. 'Aren't we always? Oh, let me tell you,' she added after a moment, 'don't ever go to the funeral of a criminal with Gina. Quips at the graveside, we were lucky to make it out of there in one piece.'
Sheelagh chuckled and replied, 'Seems like we've both had a morning of it.'
Though she smiled, Sam met her eye seriously and asked, 'Okay?'
'Okay,' she confirmed.
Sam squeezed her arm then they left the bathroom together. Sheelagh turned right and Sam turned left, though she spared a smile over her shoulder before being absorbed back into the Sun hill hustle and bustle. For her part, Sheelagh felt stronger again and threw herself into assisting with the interviews of arrests made at the crack house.
The rest of the day was busy yet strange. She stayed around the station, tying up loose ends and finishing her outstanding reports, though she felt a little detached from it all. She didn't see Des, which was fortunate because she didn't know what she'd say to him. No matter how hard she tried, the memory of his lunge at her was returning with full-force now. Not just the lunge either, but how easily they'd gelled together on the investigation with the Chinese illegal immigrants which had triggered it in the first place. She hoped going home and getting immersed in the latest household squabbles would help, though she doubted it would dispel the problem completely.
She'd changed and was heading along the corridor when a voice from Gina Gold's office caught her attention. Sam, a glass half-hidden behind her back, had stuck her head out of the door.
'Sheelagh, you off?' she asked.
Nodding, she retraced her steps. 'I'm shattered. I heard you arrested a dead woman.'
'Typical day really,' Sam said with a grin. 'Let me see,' she added, gesturing to her neck.
Sheelagh tilted her chin up and gingerly touched her throat. 'They're fine, honestly.'
'Mmm, okay,' replied Sam. 'Go home and get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow.'
'Goodnight,' Sheelagh murmured, watching her slip back into the office and perch on the edge of Gina's desk. Then she got herself moving – she really was desperate to get out of this place today for one reason or another and there was no need to hesitate.
A night at home drove most thoughts of work from her mind. One reason why she never saw herself rising further through the ranks was because she could switch off when she left the station. Gina didn't, she knew, and certainly Sam didn't. Sheelagh loved her job, but if it started consuming her life then she'd have to reconsider her career choices.
Walking along the corridor the next morning she was caught by Sam coming the other way. Before either of them managed so much as a hello Nick and Gary steamed down the corridor.
'Guv,' Nick said, 'have you got a minute?'
Sam exchanged an amused glance with Sheelagh before querying, 'What's the problem?'
'We've been robbed,' Gary replied. 'Our stuff's been taken from the changing room.'
'What stuff?' Sheelagh questioned. Then she looked to Sam to double-check she didn't consider this interfering on a matter brought directly to her. The look on her face told her she plainly didn't mind her input.
'Gary's personal organiser and my camera,' NIck said. 'It's worth five hundred quid, Guv. Someone's taken them, they must have.'
'Have you any idea who it might be?' Sam asked. When the pair glanced at each other, she pressed, 'Well, do you know anyone who saw these items?'
'No, Ma'am,' said Gary.
'Were they in your lockers?' Sheelagh queried.
'In my bag on the top,' Gary answered.
'Yeah, mine too,' added Nick.
Sam raised an eyebrow. 'I know it's a police station but that's a bit relaxed.'
'Well, it's never been a problem before,' Nick retorted. 'Look, what I wanna is are we insured and, if so, do I get my five hundred quid back?'
Sheelagh couldn't help but smile at him. 'Is your personal property insured by the Met? I think you can guess the answer to that, Nick.'
With half a look sideways, she began walking away, Sam's chuckle ringing in her ears. Before she rounded the corner, she heard Sam promise, 'I'll look into it.'
The fact that Matt's five-year old granddaughter was in St. Hughes after ingesting crack spread around the station like wildfire. Every time a prisoner was brought into custody it was invariably the topic under discussion, though Sheelagh did her best to combat it amongst her officers. She might not like Matt very much, but she didn't wish his current predicament on anyone: searching for the daughter that had dumped his unconscious granddaughter in A&E before fleeing to save her own skin.
When Nick and Cameron brought in a mild-mannered man for assaulting a teenager at a war memorial she realised she was close to a capacity problem in custody. Nick muttered something about taking the case to the DI so she requested him to tell her it was urgent, sure the comment would be taken as only half-serious.
Sure enough, when Sam came downstairs with Ken, she asked, 'Is this rapid enough for you, Sheelagh?'
'Only if it's setting a precedent,' she returned, reaching for her keys.
Sam smiled. 'You don't ask for much, do you?' As she rounded the desk, heading for the cells, she added, 'I never thought I'd say that I feel sorry for Matt Boyden.'
Sheelagh glanced at her. 'You too?'
'Feels strange, doesn't it? I've just been with the Super, giving him Sophie's belongings taken from the crack den.'
'The poor kid,' Sheelagh murmured as she unlocked the gate.
Sam just nodded her agreement and Sheelagh brought out Richard Thornton, one of the more polite prisoners she'd had to contend with in her time on custody desks. The interview wasn't a long one, though it was long enough for another couple of prisoners to come in, leaving her capacity problem worse than ever.
'Can I bail him?' she asked.
'Yeah, he's admitted it,' Sam said with a nod, following Ken as he moved off.
'Short fuse merchants,' he said. 'Who needs 'em, eh?'
Though her attention was mostly on her keyboard, she still heard Sam answer, 'I think those kids really pushed his buttons.'
As the pair disappeared off along the corridor, Sheelagh smiled. That was one of those peculiar moments when other people got to see what she'd seen on her first day – that Samantha Nixon did have a heart under all those defences.
A few hours passed fairly quietly, for Sun Hill anyway. Then Matt Boyden dragged his daughter in, filling custody with a cacophony of expletives that didn't diminish once Sheelagh got her into a cell. When Polly and Danny arrived she was relieved to hand her over, though Amy was contrary, now not wanting to leave the cell when she was required to.
'Come on,' Sheelagh said, even as Amy tried to shrug her off.
She couldn't help but roll her eyes as she handed her over to Danny then she returned to the desk, making a note of when Amy had been taken for interview before paying any attention to the prisoner Nick and Cameron had just brought in.
'Hey, Sarge, we've got a teenage drunk we found at the Civic Centre,' Cameron said. 'DI Nixon's daughter.'
Looking up sharply, she found Abigail practically asleep in front of her, held up by the officers on either side.
'Oh, great,' she muttered. 'Guess I'd better find the DI.'
Nick and Cameron carried Abi through to the examination room, putting her on the bed under Sheelagh's watchful gaze. She then left a constable covering custody while she went to locate Sam. It could've been done the other way round, she supposed, but she suspected this news might be best coming from her.
Sam was in her office, working as diligently as ever, a stray hair curled around her chin. Sheelagh knocked on the open door and when Sam looked up and saw her she was about to smile before she caught sight of the look on her face.
'What is it?' she asked.
'Abigail's downstairs,' Sheelagh said without preamble, 'she's been brought in drunk.'
Leaning her head back, Sam groaned at the ceiling. 'Is she okay?'
'She's sleeping it off at the moment. Cameron said she'd been sick at the Civic Centre, but nothing since.'
Sam stood and massaged her neck as she rounded the desk. 'Can I take her home?'
'Not yet,' Sheelagh replied, 'I think you'd need a forklift truck. I'll keep an eye on her for you, let you know when she wakes up.'
'Thank you,' Sam said sincerely.
Waving that off, Sheelagh returned to custody. She'd only been back at the desk trying to finish up a report for a few minutes when Matt arrived.
'All right, Matt?' she asked.
'Yeah, listen,' he said, 'I was hoping I might be able to have a word with my daughter.'
Sheelagh eyed him carefully, aware of the friction between them earlier when he'd brought her in. 'What kind of word?'
He sighed. 'I don't know. Try and find some common ground I suppose.' When she hesitated he added, 'Please.'
Putting her pen down, she said, 'Okay.' She rounded the desk and moved towards Gary. 'Keys, please.'
He was already unhooking them. 'Keys,' he said then he glanced to Matt respectfully. 'Sarge.'
His loyalty amused her – sometimes he really did have the demeanour of a puppy dancing around ready to please his owner. As he scampered off, she began to unlock the gate.
'Just stay here for a second, will you?' she said to Matt. Hearing movement outside her cell, Amy had started yelling, the noise echoing once again around custody as it had earlier. Sheelagh unlocked the grill on the door and looked into the angry face of Amy Boyden. 'What is it?'
'I want bail,' Amy snapped. 'I wanna see my daughter and I've been in here for hours.'
'We need to verify your address,' Sheelagh said.
'Well, get on with it then,' demanded Amy. 'You're doing the dirty for my old man. Well, I'll tell you what. I wish he'd curl up and die. This whole thing's a fit-up. But he is not getting Sophie. Not now, not ever.'
Out of the corner of her eye, Sheelagh saw Matt's response to that tirade and slammed the hatch shut on Amy's malevolent face. 'Matt,' she called, but he was already steaming out of custody and she had to stop to lock the gate. 'Matt!'
It was no use. He was gone and, to be fair, perhaps it was for the best. Samantha Nixon was someone she could talk to and reason with; Matt Boyden wasn't and she didn't particular want him to be. Sympathy for his troubles with daughter was the only connecting factor between Sheelagh's high opinion of Sam and her low opinion of him.
Remembering her promise to Sam, Sheelagh went through to the examination room. Abi was still exactly where they'd left her, probably calmer in sleep than her mother ever saw her awake. The resemblance between the pair of them struck her now and she smiled as she moved to the clipboard beside the bed to note the time she'd checked on her. Then Abi's arm dropped from the bed. It wasn't a natural sleeping motion, Sheelagh knew that straight away. Immediately, she dropped the clipboard and leaned over the teenager.
'Abigail?' she said, checking her pupils. 'Abigail?'
Abruptly, Nick appeared in the doorway. 'Sarge,' he said, 'there's been a little bit of an oversight.'
She glanced to him. 'Did you search this one when you found her?'
'No,' he replied. Desperately, she began checking Abi's pockets, even as he continued, 'You see, the thing is I found a wrap of cocaine on that boy at the war memorial and I forgot about it. Can I book it in please?'
'What do you mean, you forgot?' she asked incredulously.
Nick swallowed. 'Cameron, he was my witness and he's reminded me –'
To her dismay, Sheelagh found an empty pill bottle in Abi's bag. 'Look,' she interrupted, 'she's not drunk, she's taken an overdose. Get an ambulance.' When he hesitated, she jabbed an arm in the direction of the custody desk. 'Now!'
Her training kicked in and she rolled Abi onto her side, checking her airways even though her heart was hammering. If something was to happen to Abigail while she was in her care she'd never forgive herself. She tried to focus on Abi, her voice shaking as she repeated her entreaties for the teenager to stay with her.
A minute later Nick was back. 'Ambulance is on its way.'
'Get the DI,' she said.
After one long look he took off into the depths of the station. Sheelagh stroked Abi's vomit-streaked hair back and kept talking to her. It was only a matter of minutes before Sam barrelled into the room, eyes wide and disbelieving, followed by Ken, Nick and Cameron.
Sheelagh edged out of the way. 'The ambulance will be here any minute.'
Sam picked up the pill bottle then pressed one hand to her mouth and the other to Abi's forehead. Glancing to the three men hovering by the door, Sheelagh gestured for them to stop staring. When they stepped out of sight she put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. Sam briefly looked to her, confusion etched on her face, then dropped the pill bottle and stretched her spare hand to Sheelagh's. They stood like that until a flurry of footsteps in the corridor signalled the arrival of the paramedics and Sheelagh automatically moved away to preserve the last vestiges of Samantha Nixon's mask. Abi was transferred onto a stretcher under her mother's watchful gaze then Sam met Sheelagh's eye one last time before she followed the ambulance crew out of the examination room.
All of a sudden Sheelagh felt lightheaded. She leaned against the cabinet and let her eyes fall on the clipboard she'd been making notes on not fifteen minutes earlier.
A throat cleared in the doorway. 'You okay, Sarge?'
She took a long breath and blinked a few times to focus on Ken. 'Course.'
'I'm sure she'll be fine,' he said. 'Both of them,' he added with a wry smile.
Nodding, she tried to fight through the fog in her brain. 'Listen, that case of yours, the aggravated assault at the war memorial?'
'What about it?'
'It turns out Nick and Cameron found a wrap of cocaine on the victim,' she replied. 'Nick didn't log it, but it might alter your case.'
'Thanks, Sheelagh,' he said. 'Better not do anything without talking to the DI about it. I'll head down the hospital.'
'Great,' she said, trying to inject some normality in her tone. It didn't help.
Returning to the custody desk felt bizarre. Her mind was really on the journey to the hospital with Sam, though she suspected they'd hear pretty rapidly if the worst happened. Ken was following her there and he'd stay as long as he needed her – or as long as she permitted him to. In an ideal world Sheelagh would've gone herself but there was no one else to cover custody tonight.
To her surprise Sam and Ken appeared an hour or so later with the young assault victim in tow. Sam didn't look in her direction, keeping her head down and hovering in the background as Sheelagh booked the boy in. They took him straight for interview without an extraneous word being exchanged. Only when the interview room door closed did Sheelagh reflect on how bizarre that was. What was Sam doing back here so soon? She looked hollow, but she was here. That meant Abigail was certainly out of the woods, though what that meant for mother and daughter Sheelagh had no idea.
The interview was fairly short. Sheelagh made the effort to work while it was going on but, in truth, she was thinking far too much about Sam. When the door opened again, though, Sam scurried off out of sight and Ken approached the desk with the teenager.
'We're releasing him without charge,' Ken said.
Sheelagh nodded and went through the process with only half of her mind on the job. Before they left the desk, she asked, 'How's Abi?'
Ken glanced along to where Sam had disappeared and lowered his voice beyond the hearing of the prisoner. 'There may be problems with her liver, but she's conscious.'
She paused. 'And Samantha?'
Sighing, he muttered, 'You care about her, don't you?'
'Yes,' she said without hesitation.
'Well,' he answered after a moment, 'she's putting on a good front now, but it wasn't so good at the hospital. She's insisting on seeing Mr Thornton and settling this case tonight.'
'Of course she is,' Sheelagh said, shaking her head. 'Will you let me know how you get on?'
He smiled his assent then took the boy by the arm and led him out into the yard. Sheelagh's shift was nearly over and she was grateful to finally get into the locker room and change into something a little less constricting than her uniform. She was shaking her hair down when her phone beeped with a message. It was Ken letting her know he was taking Sam back to the hospital. Gathering her belongings together quickly, she made the split-second decision to join them there. Her intrigue about what was going on with Sam would only keep her awake all night if she didn't.
When she got to St. Hughes, though, she found herself waiting in the car park, uncertain of whether she should invade Sam's privacy like this. She honestly had no idea how it'd be received so she stood in sight of the main entrance over-thinking it. Then she spotted Ken first and Sam a few paces behind him. Sheelagh's instincts took her towards them and Ken smiled when he caught sight of her. Sam's face showed surprise, but it was stained by something Sheelagh couldn't identify.
Ken glanced between them. 'My services no longer required?'
'I've got this,' Sheelagh said, keeping her gaze on Sam.
'Night, Guv,' he said as he walked away. 'Night, Sarge.'
Stood in the evening breeze, Sheelagh suddenly didn't know what to say. Sam seemed on her way to catatonic, tears brewing in her eyes and her gloved hands tying themselves in knots. Sheelagh put an arm tentatively on her back and steered her towards the passenger seat. She had to physically guide Sam into the seat and, after a moment of deliberation, she leaned across and put her seatbelt on for her. Sam blinked at her before she closed the door, though she didn't protest. In fact, she didn't say anything when Sheelagh slipped into the passenger seat. Since she knew the vague area where she lived she didn't press her on details, just turned left out of the car park and drove along in silence.
Abruptly, Sam said, 'I've done something terrible.'
Sheelagh shot her a sideways glance, perturbed to see tears coating her cheeks. Indicating the car into the next available gap on the road, she turned to face her. 'What do you mean? This isn't your fault, what Abigail's done.'
'It is,' Sam murmured. 'I never meant to... A lie for the right reasons is still a lie. I've gotta live with the truth, she shouldn't have to.'
Frowning, Sheelagh rested a hand on her arm. 'Why don't you tell me what you're talking about, hmm?'
Sam shook her head and her eyes filled with fresh tears. 'I can't. You'd hate me for it.'
'I don't think that's possible,' she replied.
'Trust me. You're a good person,' Sam added, yanking one of her gloves off and scraping the tears from her face. 'I don't want you to hate me.'
'I wouldn't,' she said quietly, but she could see it wasn't sinking in. 'Listen to me,' she said, waiting until Sam's green eyes reluctantly met hers in the gloom, 'I'm not pressuring you to tell me anything. But I want you to know you could.'
Holding her gaze, Sam murmured, 'Maybe someday.'
'I'll take that,' Sheelagh answered, reaching to squeeze her ungloved hand briefly before indicating the car back onto the road. 'You may have to direct me from here.'
With each command she gave, Sam seemed to regenerate. By the time she instructed Sheelagh to pull over she was more herself. Rustling in her bag for her keys, she said nothing, only glanced over and bit her lip. Sheelagh shook her head to tell her that words weren't necessary. Sam just smiled weakly, swallowed, and then slipped quickly from the car. Sheelagh waited until she was safely in the house before she finally turned in the direction of home and felt the stress of another day in Sun Hill begin to tell on her.
It was a struggle to get going the next morning after another restless night, though Sheelagh was adept at hiding all that behind a sunny smile. If nothing else, seeing her so cheery early in the day startled both her children and the officers under her charge so it wasn't a wasted effort.
She was startled when, as she was walking from the Sergeants' Office, Sam suddenly fell into step beside her. Quickly surveying her, she noticed how recovered she looked today. Perhaps she was still worn behind the eyes, but she was determined to put on a mask, even – or maybe after last night – especially in front of Sheelagh. It was one of those funny things; sometimes the closer you got to someone the more they thought they had to protect themselves from you. Or, more likely in this case, you from them.
'You know, I realised something when I got home last night,' Sam said.
Sheelagh glanced to her, a little uncertain. 'Oh?'
Smiling, Sam said, 'All you did for me yesterday and I never even bothered to thank you, did I?'
'It's not necessary,' she said.
'No, of course it is,' replied Sam. 'I can't thank you enough, Sheelagh. We both can't. You saved Abigail's life.'
'No, no,' she protested.
'I mean it,' Sam said. 'If you hadn't have found her... Honestly.'
With a smile, she accepted that. It wasn't just finding Abi and calling the ambulance that Sam was thanking her for. In her roundabout way she was thanking her for the rest of the evening too, along with trying to draw a line under that haunted conversation they'd had in the car the night before.
'Well, look,' she said as they stopped walking at a junction of corridors, 'I'm really glad she's okay.'
There was relief on Sam's face, but something else too as she murmured, 'Yeah.'
That look prompted Sheelagh to reach out and rub her arm. 'And you'll say hi to her for me when you see her?' she asked.
'Yeah, I will,' Sam promised.
Sheelagh gave her one last smile then slipped off towards the front desk. The day was a fairly straightforward one – she was taking any day where a colleague's daughter wasn't brought into the station in one way or another as a straightforward one from now on. Des and Reg had attended an aggravated burglary that morning that they'd passed on to Sam and Ken. Even so, when Des discovered some of the stolen goods dumped in a bin nearby, it was Sheelagh he called with his wacky theory about what to do next, probably aware that she was inclined to be a little more indulgent towards his whims than CID would be, thanks to that small matter of him saving her life a few days ago.
So she was the one who went up to the DI's office to ask for permission for an obbo, though when she knocked on the open door she was surprised to see an expensive bouquet of flowers on the bookshelf behind the desk. Without really realising she was doing it, as Sam looked up with a smile, she stepped inside the office and closed the door behind her.
'Who are those from?' she asked.
Sam rolled her eyes and made one final note on the file in front of her before standing. 'Don't you start,' she said. 'Gina beat you to it.'
She raised an eyebrow. 'Oh, yes?'
'They're from Richard Thornton,' she explained.
'The war memorial fella,' Sheelagh said, earning a nod from Sam.
'Exactly,' she said. 'Nothing sinister in that.'
'I didn't say it was sinister,' replied Sheelagh, 'I was just being nosy.'
Chuckling, Sam queried, 'Is there something you wanted?'
She cleared her throat. 'Uniform have found a bag in a bin.'
Sam's interest was piqued. 'Did you recover the goods?' she questioned, moving around the desk to deposit her file into the tray on the cabinet.
'Yes and no,' Sheelagh answered. 'Des and Reg recovered the bag, but they've requested permission to leave it where it is and keep an eye on it in case someone turns up.'
Turning back to face her, Sam said, 'I don't follow you. If we've been tipped off where it is, who's gonna come and pick it up?'
'Well, the informant's female. Des reckons it's probably the Haxbys' daughter Claire.' Sheelagh crossed her arms. 'Whether the brother knows what she's done, I don't know.'
The phone rang and Sam picking it up, covering the mouthpiece. 'Okay,' she said. 'No, that sounds good. Whatever else he may be, Des is a natural thief-taker, I'll give him that.' As Sheelagh headed for the door, she continued into the phone, 'DI Nixon... Sheelagh,' she said, drawing her back from the door with a hand held aloft. She listened for a moment more then said, 'Okay, thanks.' Putting the phone down, she looked back to Sheelagh. 'Claire Haxby, she's downstairs now.'
'Do you want me to talk to her?' Sheelagh asked.
'No, no, I'll do it,' Sam replied. 'Could you let Des know to keep an eye on that bin? Looking like he might be onto something, isn't it?'
They walked out of CID together, separating at the top of the stairs with Sam walking down to the front desk and Sheelagh carrying on to the back staircase towards her office. Des was, of course, delighted that his idea had been taken seriously, though Sheelagh wasn't sure his head would fit through the door if he did turn out to be right.
The case turned out to be a sad one. Sheelagh slotted it together from snippets from Des and Ken: the aggravated burglary victim had been attacked by several intruders including his adopted son and his real family. The bag had been ditched by the son who'd then told his adopted sister where she could find it. In the hopes of retrieving the properly before the police found it, the boy's real father had collected it and that was when Des and Reg arrested him. Torn between two families, that was how Ken put it. Torn between the good and the bad and not knowing which side he belonged on.
In the afternoon the case took a sudden turn. There were reports of a young man on a rooftop, one Cameron managed to identify as the adopted boy. Sheelagh hurried up stairs to try and locate Sam, but she wasn't in CID or CSU. She was heading back down the stairs towards the front office when she caught sight of Sam above her.
'Have you heard?' she asked. 'The young Haxby boy's on a rooftop.'
Sam jogged down the steps and fell in line with her. 'No, where?'
'Byron House,' Sheelagh replied. 'Do you want me to release his father from custody and take him there?'
'No, no, I think the sister's a better bet,' Sam said. 'She knows him better than anyone. She's at St. Hughes.'
Sheelagh nodded and watched her out of the main entrance before returning to CAD where she could keep an ear on the situation. It didn't end well. The boy jumped to his death following Matt's failed attempts to talk him down. Added to which, the station had a personal problem when Nick Klein was brought in by the Super for drug possession. Sheelagh heard the news with a sinking heart and, once her shift had finished, went up to CID on the off-chance Sam was still in her office. She was.
'Knock, knock,' she said in the doorway.
Sam glanced up, her pen falling from her fingers. 'You sound like you need a drink.'
Nodding, Sheelagh closed the door behind her and sat down in the familiar chair. The office was lit mainly by Sam's desk lamp, making her face difficult to see until she passed her a glass and sat down with her own. Then Sheelagh recognised the weariness in her face.
'Are you seeing Abi tonight?' she asked.
'Visiting's till eight,' Sam replied. 'I'll pop in, but she'll probably be coming home tomorrow anyway.'
'That's good news,' Sheelagh said.
'Hopefully we can move forward.' Pausing, Sam sipped her whisky and shook her head. 'Unlike that poor lad today. You wonder how families get so messed up until it happens to you.'
Sheelagh watched her carefully. 'You were on the scene, weren't you?'
'I'd literally just arrived with the sister when he fell out of the sky,' answered Sam. 'It's the noise more than anything, isn't it?'
She nodded her agreement. 'It lives with you for a while.'
'The kid was torn apart,' Sam said after a moment. 'He wanted to know who he was, but knowing who he was made life intolerable. We're supposed to protect our kids, he would've been better off not knowing.'
'His adoptive parents couldn't make that decision for him,' Sheelagh replied.
'But if they could've?' Sam questioned, looking over the rim of her glass. 'Would that have been the right thing to do?'
It wasn't difficult to identify the link between the thoughts Jonathan Haxby's suicide had stirred up and that 'terrible' thing Sam had been murmuring about on the journey home from the hospital last night. Nor was it a stretch to believe that Abi's latest cry for help was a reiteration of her desire to know who her father was. That piece of gossip about DI Nixon had been circulating when Sheelagh arrived at Sun Hill and had resurfaced in the last few weeks. The question almost burned on her lips, but she fought it down. Something she had learned about being friends with Samantha Nixon was that you needed to take your lead from her. 'Maybe someday' Sam had said last night; this wasn't that day.
'I think anybody with that choice has a bit of a thankless task,' Sheelagh said finally.
A small smile flitted across Sam's face. Then she leaned back in her chair, more at ease. 'I heard about Nick.'
Now it was Sheelagh's turn to sip her whisky. 'I misjudged it completely.'
'I don't think that's the case,' Sam answered. 'You noticed something was wrong, you challenged him about it when other people didn't. The fact that he lied about the severity of the problem isn't down to you.'
'I should've done more,' she said.
'Like what?' Sam retorted. 'Sheelagh, you noticed, which is more than can be said for people who've worked with him a hell of a lot longer. Don't do this to yourself.'
'He didn't search Abi when he picked her up,' she pointed out.
'Abi's fine,' replied Sam. 'He thought it was a drunk and disorderly, so did Cameron.'
Sheelagh smiled into her glass. 'You're being unusually calm about this.'
'If it had gone the other way I wouldn't be. But it didn't. Besides,' Sam continued, 'if I'm going to be angry about anything, it'll be the fact that Matt visited Abi in hospital earlier today.'
'He didn't?' Sheelagh said incredulously.
Nodding, she muttered, 'Oh, he did. One of the nurses told me about how that nice colleague of mine had stopped by to chat to my daughter.'
Sheelagh snorted. 'He's got front, I'll give him that.'
'Or a screw loose,' Sam said. 'You'd think he'd have enough problems with his own daughter without going anywhere near Abigail again.'
'What are you going to do?' Sheelagh questioned.
'Resist the urge to throttle him,' she retorted with a grim smile. 'It might make me feel better, but not for long enough to make it worthwhile. I'm trying to start things fresh with Abi. I wouldn't mind leaving Matt in the past with...everything else,' she concluded, quickly draining her glass.
Sheelagh followed suit then reluctantly stood. 'Don't forget to take your flowers home,' she said, indicating the bookshelf. 'And send Abi my love.'
'I will,' Sam promised, seeing her to the door and squeezing her arm. 'Night, Sheelagh.'
A few days off coupled with some shifts on CAD meant that she barely crossed paths with Sam, beyond smiles in the corridor for a while. On the flip side, she'd seen far too much of Des Taviner which, she'd admit only in her quietest moments as she travelled to and from the station, was unsettling her a bit. It was the way he looked at her sometimes, and the fact that she let him. She might have rebuked him for making a physical move on her, but she couldn't kid herself that they hadn't been mentally dancing this dance for weeks now. It caused her restless nights, though she certainly wasn't going to show him that. Perhaps if she'd seen much of Sam she might've confided in her. Then again, she wasn't sure she wanted to. She couldn't put her finger on why, but she didn't see herself having that conversation with Samantha Nixon and, of course, all her other friends knew Patrick well. So she just endured day after day seeing Des in the corridors and trying to convince herself that the only reason she felt attracted to him at all was because she was flattered by his attentions.
Something that seemed to happen with alarming regularity was that idiots, drunk or otherwise, caught her accent and decided to burst into song. The most common tune was 'Danny Boy' and that's the one she was listening to as she booked in a bearded drunk who smelled like he lived under a bridge. Knowing she'd have to fumigate the cell when he finally sobered up, she finished tapping on the keyboard then caught sight of Matt coming towards her. Grimacing at what she had to say, she turned to him.
'Matt,' she said. 'Er, sorry to trouble you, but Amy failed to sign in last night.'
'Oh, really?' he retorted. 'I'm not my daughter's keeper.'
He began to walk away and she followed him out from behind the desk. 'Er, yeah, but her bail address turned out to be false.'
Spinning back, he said, 'I thought it was verified.'
'Yeah, it was,' she murmured with a wince. 'By Nick. Look, I'm sorry but I just wondered if you knew where she might be.'
'I haven't a clue,' he replied. After two steps away he turned back and demanded, 'I mean, what was Okaro thinking of sending Nick to rehab? Talk about soft option.'
Sheelagh sighed. 'Well, I don't know about that.'
'And then what?' Matt questioned. 'He goes back on the street? I tell you what, someone who's sunk as low as he has you can never, ever trust again. Believe me.'
With that, he stormed off. She couldn't blame him for being angry, especially given the fact that Nick had been on the scene when his granddaughter had ingested crack. Nick and Amy were connected in Matt's mind and it would take a miracle to shatter that link. Even so, at least Nick was seeking help. Sheelagh didn't underestimate how difficult that was and she truly hoped he was getting the support he needed in rehab.
Later that morning she was intrigued to see Richard Thornton back in custody for assault. She recognised him as the man who'd attacked the boy at the war memorial on the day of Abi's overdose, the one who'd sent Sam flowers afterwards to thank her for her help. Though he was let go at that point, when the door opened a few hours later he was brought back in flanked by Sam and Ken. Before the trio even approached the desk Sheelagh could see how uneasy Sam was. She cut a striking figure today, dressed all in black, though the anxiety creasing her forehead made her look a little less in control.
'Who's the arresting officer?' Sheelagh questioned.
Sam took another look at Richard before murmuring, 'I am.'
After booking him for possessing imitation firearms, Ken began to lead him to the closest available interview room. Sheelagh leaned across the desk and asked quietly, 'What's going on? Are you okay?'
Swallowing, Sam replied, completely unconvincingly, 'I'm fine.'
Sheelagh studied her eyes. 'Have you been crying?'
'Course not,' said Sam. 'I'd better get on with this interview.'
Watching her go, Sheelagh bit her lip. She wouldn't even attempt to work out what was going on now, whether it was something to do with Richard Thornton or perhaps something at home. Maybe Sam would confide in her later, over a drink. Patrick had become accustomed to her arriving home later than expected and the kids were used to fending for themselves. That was, of course, if Sam was inclined to talk to her. Judging from the way she sped off after the interview leaving Ken to bail Richard Thornton Sheelagh wasn't so sure she would be.
Later, Amy Boyden was back brought into custody for skipping bail. Ignoring her father, she demanded her statutory call and Sheelagh acquiesced rapidly, if only to silence her. A little while later Matt came down to visit his daughter. She told him that, of course, she'd be present throughout the interview then walked off and left him to it. She would've done the same for anyone under the circumstances, though when he came away from the cells he was wiping his eyes. He walked off then returned a few minutes later just as Amy was screaming the place down. The look on his face was the same bewilderment Sheelagh had seen on Sam's face just after the overdose and she couldn't help but sympathise. When she asked if he was okay he just turned and left. Sighing, Sheelagh went back to her work, trying to concentrate as best she could with Amy screeching along the corridor.
Then, for want of a more appropriate term, all hell broke loose. Doors burst open along the corridor and, it seemed, every available officer was scurrying out of the station. No one stopped to tell her what was going on so she just had to wait an agonising ten minutes before Sam appeared in custody, her hands shaking as she put them flat on the desk.
'Matt's dead,' she murmured.
Sheelagh's lips parted but for a moment she couldn't formulate words. He'd been stood right here in custody not half an hour ago – how could he possibly be dead? Lifting her eyes to Sam's, she knew it was no joke. Funny how you could barely tolerate someone yet still be knocked completely off-kilter by their death.
'What happened?' Sheelagh managed finally.
Sam swallowed. 'He attended a suspect package call. At the same time we heard that the other witness in the Chinese trafficking case had been found murdered in Kent. I called him, told him to get back to the station but...' Growling, she slapped the desk. 'Of all the arrogant, pig-headed, stupid things to –'
'Hey,' Sheelagh interrupted, grasping her trembling hand, 'tell me.'
'Sorry,' Sam said with a squeeze to her fingertips. Clearing her throat, she went on, more calmly, 'He said I was only trying to get him back to the station for – for personal reasons and that he'd be back when he'd done his job. He hung up and it looks like he was shot when I was trying to call him back.'
Sheelagh exhaled and glanced to the ceiling. 'Was it quick?'
'Seems like it, yeah,' Sam replied. 'Gina's coordinating at the scene, waiting for MIT.'
'Do you think it was related to the trafficking investigation?' questioned Sheelagh.
'Pretty big coincidence if not,' she muttered, though she didn't seem entirely convinced.
'What?' Sheelagh asked. 'What is it?'
'I don't know,' answered Sam, burying her head in her hands for a moment. Sheelagh waited until she looked up uncertainly then squeezed her arm and tried to smile. Taking a long breath, Sam continued, 'It was too organised. A hoax, a drive-by shooting – it's somebody who's done this before. The only option's the gang, isn't it?'
Sheelagh didn't know what Sam was so worried about, nor did she think she was likely to get it out of her directly. She tried a different tack, asking, 'Why did Matt think you were pulling him back to the station for anything but safety reasons?'
Abruptly, she stood up straighter. It was almost as though Sheelagh could see the shutters slamming down. For a few moments Sam studied the desk then, just as she opened her mouth, there was renewed screaming in the cells. Sheelagh grimaced, recognising Amy Boyden's angry voice at the same time Sam did.
'Wait for MIT,' Sam advised, professional again. 'Don't go anywhere near her if you can help it. I better get home and tell Abigail before she hears it on the news.'
Nodding, Sheelagh watched her go then picked up a pen and feigned work. Her shift was nearly over, thank goodness, and she only had twenty minutes to pretend that she wasn't shaken and confused by the last few minutes and the day as a whole. The station was chattering as she made her way to the locker room – not grieving, chattering. Matt wasn't popular, she knew that, but it still felt as though his life had been boiled down to gossip too quickly. She changed as quickly as she could and escaped the station before anyone could ensnare her in conversation.
As she drove home she tried to clear her head. Like every other copper, she knew the risks when she signed up. However, there was something terrifying about the reality when it hit you in the face like this. She couldn't help but wonder what would happen to her family if she was the one not going home tonight. The kids were practically grown-up, though she vainly believed they still needed her for more than cooking and cleaning up after them. Patrick was a big kid himself sometimes, but they made a good team. It made the flirting she'd been doing with Des even more despicable and she resolved to behave more like the happily-married wife and mother she was in future. That resolve was strengthened when she got home to a bone-crushing hug from Declan and a gorgeous meal courtesy of Patrick and Siobhan. They left the news off all night and had a rare family evening all five of them. At least it meant that when she went into work the next day she was feeling a little stronger about it all.
Since MIT had taken over the investigation they were sniffing around the station, fishing for gossip on Matt. Sheelagh was on refs when one of them struck up a conversation with Gary and Luke at the next table. It only took a minute for Gary to bring up Abigail Nixon so Sheelagh quickly finished her sandwich before they could move on to her and climbed the stairs to CID.
Sam's door was ajar. Poking her head into the office, she asked, 'Can I come in?'
'Course,' Sam replied with a tired smile.
Crossing the threshold, she shut the door behind her and leaned against it. 'How did Abigail take the news?'
'As you'd expect,' she said. 'I mean, as much as it turns my stomach, she knew him. And I think it actually...' She trailed off and shook her head.
'Made her appreciate you a little more?' Sheelagh suggested, earning a nod. 'I had the same reaction when I walked through the door last night. I don't like dwelling on it, but it makes you think, doesn't it? Anyway,' she went on after a moment, 'I came up to warn you that MIT are asking questions about Abigail and Matt. At the very least it's going to be dragged up again.'
Sam groaned and drummed her pen on the desk. 'It's hardly relevant, is it? I mean, it just shows that he was a...' She pressed her lips together. 'It doesn't matter anymore, does it?'
'No,' Sheelagh agreed, 'but MIT were interested, that's all.'
'Thank you,' said Sam finally. 'I appreciate the heads-up.'
Sheelagh smiled faintly and replied, 'I'd better get back out on patrol. I'm paired with Honey and so far she's very interested in talking about Matt's aura.'
Stifling her chuckle, Sam gestured to the door. 'By all means, don't let me keep you from a riveting conversation.'
The rest of the day was as riveting as Sam had predicted. There were a few domestic shouts, one assault and a rather bizarre sighting of a flasher hopping along the roofs of canal boats which they passed on to CSU. Sheelagh was glad to get home at the end of the day, especially because the kids were still making an effort to be nice to her.
Work the next day was gearing up to be much of the same – gossip about Matt interspersed with proper police work and some really stupid comments courtesy of the Honey Harmans and Gary Bests of the world. She spent much of the day out with Honey again, only coming back to the station to interview a couple of yobs from the Jasmine Allen. She was completing the paperwork for those arrests when Reg appeared in the doorway.
'I'm not one to gossip,' he said, hat tucked underneath his arm, 'but with you and the DI being friends and all that, I thought –'
Her head had snapped up. 'What's wrong? What's happened?'
He cleared his throat. 'She was interviewed this afternoon by MIT, for quite some time by all accounts. As a suspect,' he added, 'if you listen to the rumours, not a witness.'
Sheelagh sighed. 'Thanks, Reg. Is she still around, do you know?'
'I believe so,' he said.
Abandoning her paperwork without a second thought, she went to the vending machines then hurried up to CID. Unsurprisingly, Sam's door was shut fast, though the light was on. Sheelagh knocked and, when that was ignored, risked opening the door of her own accord. Sam's brow was creased with suspicion, but it eased when she saw her.
'Brought you this,' Sheelagh said, holding up the coffee cup as she nudged the door closed. She placed it carefully on the desk and took a seat. 'I'm not here to pry.'
Sam managed a wry smile. 'People have been disturbing me on pretexts all afternoon, just wanting to gawp. Though none of them would've dared open the door without my express permission,' she went on, reaching for the coffee. 'Thanks for this. Who told you?'
'Reg,' she answered, 'but it wasn't gossip as such. He thought I might want to know.'
Sipping her coffee, Sam leaned back in her chair. 'Do I have to say I didn't do it?'
Sheelagh snorted. 'Only if you like wasting your breath,' she said. 'Maybe now they'll get round to looking at serious suspects.' Digging into her pocket, she pulled out a Galaxy bar and tossed it onto the desk. 'Eat this.'
'You don't need to look after me, you know,' Sam replied, nevertheless ripping into the wrapper greedily.
'I'm not,' Sheelagh retorted, 'I want half of that myself.'
Breaking off a piece, Sam passed it across then indicated the outer office. 'They think I did it.'
'Well, for a bunch of detectives they're not very bright, are they?' Sheelagh bit into her chunk of chocolate. 'They're not thinking about it logically at all.'
'Logically?' Sam repeated, a smile playing over her lips.
'It's too haphazard,' she answered. 'I mean, I'm not the profiler here, but I don't think commissioning a drive-by in a busy area is something an intelligent, professional woman of a certain age would do.'
Sam chuckled. 'A certain age? You speak for yourself.'
Sheelagh stretched her legs out and said, 'You'd be much cleverer about it. Poison, something untraceable.'
'Don't be giving me ideas,' warned Sam, popping another piece of chocolate into her mouth.
'Of course you didn't do it,' Sheelagh went on seriously after a moment. 'There's a difference between being angry with someone and having them killed. It'll blow over, don't you worry.'
Sam met her eye, apparently speechless for once. Finally, she broke off another lump of chocolate and handed it over. Sheelagh smiled and took it, settling back into the companionable silence while Sam sipped her coffee. There was a lull of a minute or so then there was a knock echoed. Rolling her eyes, Sam waved it away. Then the door opened and Gina walked into the office. Sheelagh automatically jumped up.
Gina surveyed the scene as she shut the door. 'At ease, Sheelagh,' she said, exchanging an amused look with Sam.
Sinking back into the chair, she said, 'Habit.'
'I've already lost your loyalty from what I can see,' Gina answered with a nod towards Sam. 'You know that DI Friend is insisting on interviewing Amy Boyden despite the fact she was raped this morning? I know people reckon you're a hard-faced cow sometimes, Samantha, but that woman's a compassionless bitch.'
As Sheelagh burst out laughing, Sam replied, 'I'm sure there's a compliment in there somewhere, Gina.'
'Buried very deeply,' Sheelagh added.
Gina grinned and leaned against the door. 'All I'm saying is that I'd love to see the video of your interview with her,' she said.
'I'd pay money for that actually,' said Sheelagh.
Sam took another gulp of coffee. 'Well, you're both gonna be sorely disappointed.
'Spoilsport,' Gina said.
Sheelagh cleared her throat and stood. 'I'd best get back downstairs, I'll leave you to it.'
'You've got another piece of chocolate owing,' Sam said.
'You need it more than me,' she replied with a smile. 'See you later. See you, Ma'am.'
'Sheelagh,' Sam called as Gina opened the door to let her past. She turned back to the desk and Sam said, 'Poison's a brilliant idea if the need arises. I can cite you as an accessory in court.'
'I'll look forward to it,' she retorted before she slipped out of the office away from Gina's perplexed expression.
The revelation that Amy Boyden had her father killed to claim the insurance money stifled the gossips for a few days. It was a sobering thought, especially when so many of the coppers around Sun Hill seemed to have complicated family lives. Sheelagh had a day off which she spent cleaning the kitchen from top to bottom and trying to snatch moments with the kids then she volunteered to work on the day of the funeral. She didn't know Matt well enough to compel her to go and, besides, they needed somebody covering the station. When Danny brought round the collection for Matt's granddaughter she put in, of course, but for the most part she tried to detach herself from the idea of a police funeral going on in the borough.
Everyone who was going had gone and custody was mercifully quiet when Sheelagh caught sight of a familiar figure wandering towards her, hands plunged into her pockets. She put her pen down and waited for Sam to rest her elbows on the desk.
'It's quiet down here,' she commented.
'Don't jinx it,' Sheelagh replied. 'I don't want to have to call anyone back from the funeral.'
'They'd probably welcome it,' Sam said.
Sheelagh pursed her lips. 'You don't look snowed under yourself,' she pointed out.
Conceding that with a shrug, Sam answered, 'People were asking all morning if I was going. I know what they're thinking, but it'd be hypocritical. I didn't like the man, I can't pretend I did just because he's dead.'
'No,' Sheelagh said, waiting until Sam met her eye before she continued, 'I can see why you'd feel that way.'
'But you don't agree?' Sam questioned.
'It depends why you go to a funeral, doesn't it?' she returned.
Sam tilted her head and frowned. 'You're gonna have to explain that one, Sheelagh.'
She hesitated as she tried to work out how to phrase this. 'When I go to a funeral,' she said finally, 'I go as a Catholic. It's all entwined for me, I couldn't separate it if I tried. But you,' she continued, 'you go because you loved or liked someone, or perhaps because you respected them. Am I right?'
'Probably,' she admitted.
'If I died,' Sheelagh went on, 'you'd go to my funeral, wouldn't you?'
Sam touched her arm. 'Course I would.'
'Gina's?' she pressed.
'Definitely,' Sam answered.
'Eva's?'
Nodding, Sam murmured, 'Yeah, no question.'
'Okay,' Sheelagh said with a faint smile, 'what about Gemma Osbourne or Luke Ashton?'
Sam's brow creased. 'I barely know them.'
'But you'd go, wouldn't you?' Sheelagh questioned, resting her hand over Sam's carefully.
After thinking for a moment, she turned her hand over and squeezed Sheelagh's fingers. 'I'd go,' she said. 'Not because I knew them well, but because they were police officers at Sun Hill. I'd go to show solidarity with the Super and Gina and...you,' she concluded with a bit of a blush.
'Exactly,' replied Sheelagh, smiling.
Sam sighed then drew herself up, looking more like DI Nixon in an instant. 'I could still make the wake if I left now.'
Sheelagh glanced at the clock. 'So you could.'
'Thanks for the therapy, Sheelagh,' Sam said.
'I'll start charging you,' she returned, watching her stride along the corridor.
Looking back, Sam called, 'Don't mess with someone you've been encouraging to poison people.'
Sheelagh grinned and picked up her pen, though she couldn't really remember what she'd been doing before Sam had appeared in custody. A few minutes later a prisoner was brought in, at least giving her something to deal with. After that she managed to find a dozen little tasks to occupy her mind until her shift finished.
Eager to get home, she took the paperwork she'd completed during the day down to the Sergeants' Office. She was just putting it in nice little piles when a voice from the doorway startled her.
'That all looks very cryptic,' Sam said.
She turned around and smiled. 'If I told you, there'd be no more use for me here.'
'Oh, I doubt that,' replied Sam, leaning against the door jamb. 'You finished for the day?'
'Just about,' Sheelagh answered. 'What are you doing back here? You did go, didn't you?'
'Course I did. I wouldn't have dared disobey, would I?' questioned Sam with a smirk.
'Not if you know what's good for you,' retorted Sheelagh. 'Come on, what are you doing back?'
Sam gestured over her shoulder. 'Having a drink with Gina now the wake's over.'
'Did it go okay?' Sheelagh asked.
'Bob Cryer made a good speech,' she said. 'And the team seemed to appreciate me turning up. I didn't tell them it was down to you,' she added.
'Probably for the best,' she replied. 'They'll all want special treatment.'
A smile settled over Sam's lips and Sheelagh saw the alcohol she'd consumed swimming behind her eyes. She glanced back towards Gina's office and lowered her voice. 'Listen, I don't know what I'd have done without you these last few weeks. You've been brilliant, Sheelagh, really.'
'Don't be silly. Go on,' she said firmly. 'Get back before Gina spirits the bottle away.'
Chuckling, Sam didn't move. 'I appreciate it, you know.'
'I think you're drunk,' she answered.
'Could be,' Sam returned. 'That doesn't make it any less true though. Night, Sheelagh,' she said with one final smile. Turning, she crossed the hall into Gina's office and shut the door.
Sheelagh stood still for a few moments, staring at the spot Sam had vacated. Then she shook her head and left the office. She had to be getting home, to see her kids and her husband. On a day like today she needed the reassurance of looking into their eyes.
