Kissing Des had been an impulse Sheelagh shouldn't have yielded to. She could blame the stress and exhilaration of the day, she could blame anything she wanted to, but the truth of the matter was that her defences had been drained and all that was left was an overwhelming desire to throw caution to the wind.
This morning she'd felt out of sorts, though she still mustered her usual jovial attitude. Seeing Samantha back in the station had certainly lifted her mood in real terms, especially hearing her well-worded critique of Debbie McAllister earlier. Knowing that Sam wanted to interfere, even while on her holiday, had made her smile more than once. In spite of their growing friendship, she hadn't supposed she would cross Sam's mind while she was out of the country. She didn't know what was more surprising – that Gina had called Sam because she thought she'd care or that Sam really had been concerned about her. It was sweet, though she suspected Samantha Nixon would rebel at such a label.
At least work proved a good distraction from the Des situation. Late morning, she was called up to the Super's office, which alarmed her a little until she saw the expression on Mr Okaro's face.
'Please, Sheelagh,' he said, 'this is nothing to worry about. I need your help actually. Take a seat.'
Trying to relax, she sat opposite him. 'What can I do, Sir?'
'You've heard we've got a journalist in today to do a piece on Matt Boyden?' he questioned.
'Inspector Gold mentioned it,' she replied evenly.
'Good,' Mr Okaro said. 'The trouble is, Sheelagh, people have been distancing themselves from Matt since his death. I don't want this journalist to interview somebody who's going to insinuate that Matt's last weeks were steeped in controversy. Or, indeed, somebody with enough knowledge of him to ignite rumours in other areas.'
'I think I understand,' Sheelagh said then she hesitated. 'If I may be so bold, Sir, why are you letting the journalist in at all?'
The Superintendent shot her a wry smile. 'The Borough Commander is very invested in showing Sun Hill to be a compassionate station struggling with the death of a well-liked officer. The narrative's written,' he continued, 'we merely have to adhere to it.'
'You want me to speak to this fella then?' she questioned after a moment.
Mr Okaro inclined his head. 'You're relatively new so you can dodge any difficult questions about the past and I know you won't gossip about recent events. I couldn't think of anyone more capable of handling a journalist with his nose itching for a story. His name's Dougie Pritchard and he should be arriving any minute.'
'I'll do my best, Sir,' she said before leaving the office.
It was funny really – she'd barely thought of Matt since his death. She certainly hadn't thought of him in his own right. He'd crossed her mind in relation to their staff shortage and in relation to Sam and Abi, but not really as a colleague gunned down in the line of duty. He hadn't been well-liked, people had only attended his funeral because it was the right thing to do, not out of any genuine affection. His soul had been laid to rest and, with all appropriate regret, that was it as far as Sheelagh was concerned. She focused on the living – Patrick and the kids, Samantha and...Des. Not for the first time today her thoughts had come full circle.
Going downstairs she straightened up her office then went through to reception to greet Dougie Pritchard. Just one look at him put her off, but she battled to keep her smile visible.
'Mr Pritchard?' she asked, shaking his hand. 'Sergeant Murphy.'
'Thank you for seeing me,' he said.
She barely resisted the urge to wipe the slimy journalist scent from her hand. 'Superintendent Okaro said you were writing an article about Matthew Boyden?'
Pritchard nodded. 'Yeah, and I wanna do a story about how Sun Hill is coping with the loss of a popular colleague.'
'Well, I only worked with him briefly but I'll try to answer any questions,' she said.
'I'm sure you'll be very useful,' he returned.
She opened the door to lead him into the station, barely realising that Samantha was waiting to pass through the doorway from the other side. Then she made a conscious effort to ignore her, since a journalist investigating Matt Boyden in any way was the last thing Sam needed to encounter. Taking Mr Pritchard into her office, she proceeded to spend what felt like hours talking to one of the most odious men she could imagine being stuck in a room with. She didn't know what his agenda was, but she did her best to derail it. Only when she was showing him out of the station did she get a sense of what he wanted.
'Well, thanks for all your help,' Pritchard said, 'But I wondered, now that I'm here, do you think I might be able to talk to somebody else?'
'Why?' Sheelagh questioned.
'You know, get another angle,' he said. 'I thought perhaps DI Nixon might agree. I left a message.'
Irritation bubbled in Sheelagh's chest as she replied, 'Yeah, she's been away.'
'But she's back now, yeah?' Pritchard asked.
'Look, I'm sure if she wants to talk to you she'll get in touch with you, Mr Pritchard, okay? Goodbye,' she concluded, opening the door and ushering him into the front office. She wouldn't show him the same level of courtesy as she would another guest by seeing him right out of the station. He'd annoyed her too much for that.
Had somebody been talking, she wondered? A word about Abi's liaison with Matt would be a delicious titbit for a journalist like Pritchard and he certainly hadn't seemed as interested in Matt Boyden the police officer as she'd supposed he might. He wasn't after a story about a heroic officer, he already seemed to know that Matt wasn't that. He was searching for something and if that something was a scoop about Samantha Nixon then Sheelagh certainly wasn't going to be nice to him about it.
Ten minutes later, after running an errand up to CSU, she was caught by Eva as she walked back downstairs.
'Oh, Sarge,' Eva said, 'is Dougie Pritchard still here? I heard you interviewed him earlier.'
'That's right,' Sheelagh answered, 'I just saw him out.'
Eva sighed and disappeared before she got a chance to question why she was asking. Then Des rounded the corner and knocked all thoughts of Dougie Pritchard from her mind.
'Sheelagh,' he said. Then he grimaced. 'I mean, Sarge.'
Being so close to him again unsettled her, especially with officers milling around them, but she was determined not to show him that. 'Yes?' she said.
'About last night.' He paused. 'Our little moment.'
'What do you mean?' she asked.
'You kissed me,' Des replied. 'You trying to pretend it didn't happen?'
'No,' she said shortly.
He frowned. 'So what was it all about?'
'Look, it just happened,' she answered, feeling the lie pierce through her. 'Is there a problem?'
'No,' he muttered.
'Fine,' she said.
Holding his gaze, she tried to drill her nonchalance into him. She just hoped he believed it because she certainly didn't. He broke away and banged through the double doors, glancing back through the glass and meeting her eye again. Maybe her expression shook and maybe he saw something. Whatever it was, she was trembling as she moved towards her office. Only when she'd closed the door on the world did she start to recover a bit.
Of course, it was all well and good trying to shut the station out but she did have a job to do. Not long after hiding herself away she was forced to head down towards custody where a group of officers trooped past her, Des amongst them.
'It's all go today, isn't it?' he said, his voice cool and distant. 'Armed robbery. Better get down there or they'll start without us.'
She was suddenly struck by the memory of watching Matt Boyden leaving the station not so long ago and called, 'Des!'
'What?' he demanded. 'Not a problem, is there?'
'No,' she murmured.
He slapped his hat onto his head. 'Fine,' he snapped, deliberately invoking their earlier conversation.
As he stomped off alongside his colleagues she watched after him, completely confused. Wanting her officers to be safe was entirely normal; her throat constricting because she was allowing one of them to walk away with a false impression about her feelings was entirely new.
She couldn't help herself – she rapidly completed the task she was in the middle of then hurried along to CAD. Smithy was dealing with the robbery response and it was with a slither of fear that she realised Des and Cameron were in pursuit of the robbers' vehicle. With every update on location from Cameron her anxiety heightened. She hoped they'd lose them, as terrible as that sounded; she hoped that the thieves who'd shot at security guards would escape arrest and Des would be forced back to the station empty-handed.
It wasn't going to happen that way. The robbers left their car, pursued by Des and Cameron, and climbed up onto a footbridge. Then one of the officers clicked their radio on as Des asked for the thieves to put the gun down. Every muscle in Sheelagh's body tightened. For a few seconds there was silence then the sound of automatic weapon fire shattered the air. She pressed a hand to her mouth, aware of Smithy's presence but unable to contain her worry at this moment.
The airwaves just crackled and Smithy just sat there.
'Get on the radio,' Sheelagh said. 'Find out what's happening.'
'We know what's happening,' Smithy replied.
'They might be hurt,' she pressed, 'unable to answer.'
She knew why he was reluctant – there could be a stand-off, the radio could trigger another volley of gunfire. But, on the other hand, their officers could be bleeding to death. If she'd been a constable he might not have listened, but he put the call in and repeated his query when no response was forthcoming.
Sheelagh was beginning to feel distanced from her surroundings. She couldn't work out if she was trembling or numb, but she was trying to put a label on it to keep herself upright. As long as she kept asking herself questions she could pretend that this was nothing out of the ordinary.
Suddenly, Cameron's voice came out of nowhere announcing the gunfire had gone over their heads. Relief thundered in Sheelagh's chest and she leaned back against the wall. Then Smithy put in a call to CID and she realised that CAD was about to be infested with any number of officers who could see how overwrought she was.
Without a word, she rushed into the corridor, barely aware of the people around her. She turned towards her office, saw Gina Gold heading in her direction and altered her path accordingly. As a consequence, she ran into Sam jogging down the stairs, looking overwrought herself. In fact, there was barely anything left of the sun-kissed, relaxed woman Sheelagh had encountered only a few hours earlier.
'Sheelagh...' Sam murmured.
She cleared her throat and tried to clear her expression. 'Are you heading to CAD? I've just come from there.'
Something crossed Sam's face – was it relief, maybe, that Sheelagh hadn't questioned why she looked like a truck had fallen onto her since they last met? But Sheelagh was more than aware that she looked no better. Anxiety was eating both of them and perhaps neither of them wanted to discuss the reasons for it.
'I understand none of our officers were injured,' Sam said. 'Is that the case?'
She nodded, though she was trembling again. 'The shots were fired over Des and Cameron's heads.'
'Des and Cameron,' Sam repeated then squared her shoulders and moved past her, squeezing her arm as she went. 'Thanks, Sheelagh.'
Although she'd resolved not to go anywhere near Des in her tumultuous state, she couldn't contain her urge to go into the yard and wait for his return. She tried to tell herself that she was concerned for both of them, but she knew she wasn't fooling her heart. Even so, she just lingered for a few seconds to satisfy her curiosity before she fled back into the station and tried to concentrate on her work once more. Only when she was forced to leave custody to check something did her mind slip back to Des and, of course, she bumped into him upstairs as he thundered out of CID.
'Ah,' he said, 'I just wanted to say thanks.'
'For what?' she asked.
'For rushing over to see if I was all right,' he replied. 'Showing concern, I was touched.'
'I came because an officer got shot at,' Sheelagh said. 'I'd have been worried about anyone under my command.'
'Ah, right,' he said with a grin, clicking his tongue and looking very pleased with himself.
Moving past him, she headed for the front stairs, half-repulsed by the greedy expression on his face and half-not. Cameron came out of CID and, though she couldn't hear the words, she knew they were talking about her as she paused on the stairs and looked after them.
Back on custody, she threw herself into work, dealing with the rape suspects that newcomer DC Ramani de Costa brought in with Cathy Bradford. She was returning to her office when Eva caught stopped her.
'Oh, Sarge,' she said, 'have you seen Abigail Nixon?'
'No,' Sheelagh replied. As Eva began to walk away, she questioned, 'What's she doing here? She shouldn't be wandering about on her own.'
'I know, I know,' Eva muttered, her anxiety more than evident as she rounded the corner.
Confused, Sheelagh watched after her. Was Abi's presence in the station something to do with that look on Sam's face earlier? It seemed strange – Abi appearing in the station the day they both got back from a holiday that Sheelagh had assumed went well given how relaxed and happy Sam had been that morning. And why did Eva seem so worried about her wandering around? It wasn't following procedure, but it wasn't like she was a small child and she was pretty familiar with the place by now. Slowly, Sheelagh returned to custody, her mind revolving on the Sam and Abi conundrum instead of focusing on Des.
A little later she overheard a conversation between Kerry and Honey as they passed through custody to collect a prisoner for interview. Eavesdropping on the relief had quickly become second nature to her – in Sun Hill, she'd found, it was better to be prepared than not.
'He's definitely a journalist then?' Honey was asking.
'Yep,' Kerry answered. 'He's just stood out there asking anybody who passes if he can see DI Nixon. If you ask me, it's not about the armed robbery. He's the only one here, isn't he?'
Sheelagh kept her eyes fixed on her work, running that through in her mind. A journalist poking around asking for Sam – it could only be Dougie Pritchard really, couldn't it? She'd known his bizarre interest in her earlier was far from typical, though this seemed a bit excessive for the Matt/Abi story. It'd be salacious if Matt was still alive from a working-relationship point of view but now? No, it wasn't nearly important enough for Pritchard to be following Sam to this extent.
As she was pondering all this, Gary Best tripped down the corridor towards Kerry and Honey. 'Here,' he said, 'have you seen DI Nixon's daughter in reception talking to a strange man?'
'It's a journalist,' Honey replied. 'We were just saying –'
'Excuse me,' Sheelagh interrupted, 'have you got nothing better to do than stand around gossiping?'
They exchanged sheepish looks and disappeared back to their duties. Meanwhile, Sheelagh's mind was racing. She half-wanted to rush down to the front office and see what was happening but, she realised as Des appeared in front of her, she was due to spend the rest of the shift in the area car and she'd better get on with it, even if she didn't like the way he was looking at her again.
'I'll just put these away,' she said, picking up the files and doing her best to ignore his wolfish stare as she walked along the corridor.
Smithy was in the office, slurping on a coffee and flicking through some pages on his desk. Glancing up as she came in, he asked, 'Don't suppose you know what's going on with DI Nixon, do you?'
'No,' she answered, feeling her stomach muscles tighten. 'What are you talking about?'
'Journalist banging down the door and now it's all kicked off with a strange man and her daughter.'
Though she was fascinated and concerned in equal measure, she tried to feign nonchalance. 'I don't know,' she said dumping her files onto her desk. 'Is Abigail okay?'
'The journalist's out on his ear, Abigail's gone upstairs with Eva and the DI's taken this fella into the canteen. With you being friends and all, I thought you might know what it's about.'
'No,' she murmured, 'I don't.'
He opened his mouth to respond but Ruby Buxton's head appeared in the doorway. 'Sarge,' she said, directing her words to Smithy, 'there's a journalist in reception. He won't leave, he's insisting on speaking to the DI.'
Smithy put his cup down. 'I'll deal with it.'
As the two of them disappeared down the corridor Des stuck his head through the door and asked, 'You all right, Sarge?'
She cleared her throat and tried to stifle her concerns about what on earth was going on with Sam and Abi and what it all had to do with Dougie Pritchard. If she ruled out the Matt Boyden scenario – and Sheelagh very much had by now – then could it be that this strange man Smithy was talking about was something to do with the secret about Abigail's parentage? It was the most obvious solution as far as she could see.
'Sarge?' Des pressed. 'Are we out of here or not?'
Reluctantly, she picked up her hat. 'Let's go.'
Although she began brooding as soon as they got into the car, she didn't have much of a chance to carry it on when they nearly ran over a man in the road, though it looked as though somebody had already got there first. Fortunately, he was still conscious – if disorientated – and they tried to get some idea of what had happened and how badly hurt he was.
'How many fingers am I holding up?' Sheelagh questioned, holding up three.
'Hey,' Des said, 'you nearly poked my eye out then.'
'Sorry,' she murmured, glancing to him and feeling her chest constrict.
'It's all right,' he replied with a grin, 'I'll get over it.'
Turning her attention back to the victim, she said, 'We'd better leave it. He's hit his head, he doesn't know which way is up.'
At least focusing on him meant she could avoid the twirls of her stomach brought on by Des's close proximity. Though he made ingratiating comments throughout their journey to the hospital, she managed to deflect it all with work talk. Only when they were standing in A&E waiting to talk to the man again did she allow Des to steer the conversation back in the direction he wanted to, and that was only because he distracted her by placing one hand above her head on the pillar she was leaning against, effectively blocking her in.
'What are you doing later?' he asked.
'I'm going home to see my family,' she answered.
'Thought you might fancy a drink,' he said. 'So we can discuss that little incident.'
Sheelagh barely withheld her grimace. 'Look, there's nothing to discuss. I kissed you, it was a mistake. I'm sorry.'
'I didn't mean that,' said Des.
She sighed. 'What did you mean?'
'Well, now that you've mentioned it...' He slotted an arm around her shoulders and steered her away from the bustle of the ward, making every muscle in her body buzz with anxiety. 'I mean, maybe we should talk about that. Obviously, it's been playing on your mind. Maybe you want to get things off your chest, get things out in the open, so to speak.'
His cheekiness made her smile. Then again, his cheekiness always made her smile. Fortunately, before she was forced to come up with a response he'd accept they were allowed to speak to their victim. Though he obviously knew more than he was letting on about the car that had hit him, he claimed obliviousness and they were forced to accept that for now. Besides, by the time they'd done at the hospital it was nearing the end of the shift and she was eager to get home and get away from Des.
She was straightening things up in the Sergeants' Office when Tony walked past. He caught sight of her and doubled back.
'You're friends with the DI, aren't you?'
She wasn't quite sure how everyone seemed to know that but, right now, she wasn't too fussed about the particulars. Instead, she beckoned Tony into the office and gestured for him to close the door.
'What is it, Tone?' she questioned.
'I'm not gossiping,' he said.
'I know you're not,' she answered with a smile. 'I am friends with Sam and, tell you the truth, I'm worried about her. I've heard dribs and drabs this afternoon, but I don't know what's going on.'
'The latest,' Tony said after a moment, 'is that she had me drive this strange man away from the station. Wouldn't say who he was, but he was very shifty-looking if you ask me. Didn't say much when I dropped him off. They were worried about him being chased by reporters.'
Sheelagh thought about that then questioned, 'How old is he?'
Tony surveyed her shrewdly. 'What do you mean?'
'Could he be an old friend of Sam's?' she clarified, aware that he knew what she was driving at.
'Very likely, yeah,' he said.
'Did she seem okay?' she asked.
'On edge,' he answered. 'I know her daughter's still hanging around the station though.'
'Cheers, Tone,' she said. 'I appreciate it.'
He nodded then slipped out of the office. She glanced around then proceeded with her earlier plan of getting changed. If Abi was still in the station then she doubted Sam would particularly want to talk to her. Better to contain her curiosity and speak to her tomorrow.
At least thinking about Samantha Nixon's problems kept her mind away from Des as she got changed. By the time she left the station she was so preoccupied with her pondering that she didn't realise the objects of her thoughts were walking through the other door into the front office. Though she only managed a quick glance, it seemed as though both mother and daughter had spent quite a bit of time today crying. She wouldn't mention it, of course. Sam looked as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders and Abi was clutching her elbows until her knuckles turned white.
Sheelagh reached the main door before them and pushed it open before holding it for them. Seeing her had sent Sam into something of a panic – her eyes were flicking in every direction but hers and Sheelagh's heart sank a little. This morning she'd felt as though she and Sam had passed beyond cordial friendship and were closer than she could've anticipated when she joined Sun Hill a few months ago. Hearing Sam defend her articulately against Debbie McAllister had given her such a warm feeling considering the detachment everyone else seemed to experience from her. Judging from the furtive expression on her face now, though, Sheelagh suspected they were moving backwards and she inwardly sighed.
Abi suddenly grasped her arm as they moved away from the entrance. 'Sheelagh, tell her. You're her friend, tell her.'
Halting, Sheelagh glanced between the pair of them. 'What do you mean?'
'Abigail,' Sam said sharply. 'Stop it.'
'Maybe you'll listen to her,' Abi snapped. 'You care what she thinks, even if you don't care about me.'
'We are not doing this,' Sam said, gripping her daughter's arm and dragging her along the pavement. 'Sorry, Sheelagh.'
'Wait,' she said, 'is there anything I can do to help?'
'You can get her to see sense,' Abi called.
'Come on,' Sam growled, turning around and holding up a hand. 'Forget it – everything's fine.'
Sheelagh watched them leave with a heavy heart. Whatever was going on, she was in no doubt that she was excluded, however much Abigail seemed to crave her help. That saddened her, even if she'd have a hard time explaining why to an impartial observer. She and Sam may have been friends, yes, but she didn't know how much that meant in DI Nixon's world. One thing was for certain – something was badly wrong in the Nixon household and it wasn't likely she was going to find out what. The lack of trust Sam showed in her just then was palpable, though perhaps it was merely desperation to get Abi home that was driving her back into herself.
The next morning came around far too quickly. Between her thoughts about Sam and her thoughts about Des, Sheelagh hadn't had a good night. At the station, of course, she was the epitome of professional. One of her first tasks was to go up to CID to get an update on the armed robbery response from DS Hunter. She was bracing herself for some kind of contact with Sam but she was late in and, from what she could gather, hardly Phil Hunter's favourite person today. In his usual arrogant manner he told her to make the relief available to check CCTV and identify suspects, Des especially, and she returned downstairs to hold the briefing.
Des was there, of course, revelling in his role as hero after being shot at yesterday. She indulged him as much as anyone else, mainly because it was easier than scolding him at the moment. Before the briefing was over she also had to introduce new probationer PC Gabriel Kent, a little older than the usual new-starter. There was a story there, she was sure, but she couldn't be bothered trying to fathom it out now.
The favourite topic of conversation in the nick was Samantha Nixon's exploits of the day before. Wherever Sheelagh went she heard whispers, whether it was about Abi's presence in the station yesterday, the journalist hanging around or the unidentified man that everyone seemed to know about. Some of them were theorising in the right direction, though Sheelagh wouldn't accept her conclusions were correct about who the strange man was until Sam had confirmed it. However, the way things were at the moment, who was to say whether she ever would?
Putting her faith in work to distract her, she went to liaise with CSU on some outstanding cases then Des caught her on her way back downstairs. Apparently a blue BMW similar to the one which had hit their victim last night had been reported missing. With every minute spent in the car with Des she began to feel as uncomfortable as she had every day recently. She was grateful when they reached the address, less so when they found themselves in a room with a pregnant woman and a man who Sheelagh wanted to throttle after thirty seconds.
When they got out of the house, Des commented, 'I thought she seemed nervous.'
Sheelagh snorted. 'Expecting a baby and married to him, I'm not surprised.'
'I meant about us,' Des said.
'He didn't seem worried,' replied Sheelagh.
'Maybe that's because she backed him up,' returned Des. 'Married life, it's a beautiful thing.'
She patted him on the shoulder. 'Don't knock it till you've tried it.'
As she walked around the car, he answered, 'Listen, I'd rather slash my wrists than have what they've got in there. Anyway, at my age all the best women are taken.'
His insinuating tone made her look across the car roof, and then she was sorry she had. Maybe he meant it half in jest, but it hadn't come across that way. She knew what he was thinking and, truth be told, she was thinking it too now. It made the journey back to the nick unbearably tense.
Later, she found herself returning to the Moorfield residence after the car turned up and was confirmed as the vehicle involved in the hit-and-run. After a little pressure the wife admitted that she couldn't give her husband an alibi for the previous night because she was out. Picking up Des from the station, they went to visit the victim again, despite his lack of interest in prosecution. They soon realised it was because there was a connection between the Moorfields and the victim after all – he was the wife's salsa partner and it looked like the husband had mown him down as revenge.
'What,' Des said, 'just for dancing with his wife?'
'Some men, it don't even take that much,' answered Greg.
That struck home and she couldn't help but glance at Des. Patrick wasn't the violent sort, no matter what his criminal record said. However, the way she'd been behaving around Des was reprehensible and she couldn't predict how Patrick would react if he found out about it. She had to put a stop to it. All of a sudden, she felt disappointed that Patrick was away tonight. She'd happily waved him off, grateful for the bed to herself for a few days but now she wanted his reassuring warmth, something to take her mind off what a horrible woman she was turning into.
They brought in Ed Moorfield on suspicion of assault and suffered through an infuriatingly misogynistic interview. Personally, Sheelagh wouldn't blame the wife if she had been seeing her salsa partner, though there was no excuse for adultery in her eyes. Ed demonstrated where his priorities lay when he produced another alibi for the hit-and-run – he claimed he'd been with an escort while his wife was out. They returned him to the cells then went to her office where she put in a call to the escort agency and asked for them to make enquiries with the escort involved.
She was still on the phone when Des commented, 'If she really hasn't slept with him since she became pregnant the fella deserves some sympathy, doesn't he?'
Ending the call, she stood. 'Listen, if he uses an escort service for himself and then complains about her and this fella, that makes him a hypocrite in my book.'
'What's good for the goose and all that,' Des said.
'You mean the other way round,' she retorted.
'I mean both ways,' he replied.
'Yeah,' she said, 'and it doesn't do any of them any good if they get in this mess.'
Before he could argue with that, the phone rang and she reached for it. Unfortunately, it was the escort confirming Ed Moorfield's story, putting them right back to square one. They were forced to release him without charge, but before they could investigate further they were called to a disturbance at the Moorfield residence.
When they arrived they found husband and wife embroiled in a physical fight on their front lawn, which might be all well and good if Lisa wasn't heavily pregnant. She and Des waded in to separate them, Sheelagh putting herself in front of Lisa and getting them both knocked to the ground in the process. Des then tackled the husband and all four of them ended up on the grass. Turning over, she found herself next to Des and, on impulse, squeezed his arm when he asked if she was all right. As Des yanked the husband to his feet, Sheelagh helped the wife up. Even the presence of two police officers didn't stop Ed going for his wife again. He wasn't only misogynistic and thoroughly unpleasant but he was obviously stupid as well. He must've had some redeeming features when Lisa had married him, even if they seemed invisible now.
Moorfield was safely banged up in the cells and Lisa was being checked over by the FME. Sheelagh sent Des back to see the hit-and-run victim while she waited for a chance to speak with Lisa again. Then she took her into the front interview room to take her statement on the assault by her husband. In a bizarre conversation, Lisa suggested that Ed was jealous of the baby, something Sheelagh couldn't begin to understand.
Just as they were finishing up, Des knocked on the door and requested a private word with her. She followed him into the front office and shot him a questioning look.
'I've just been talking to Greg Townsend,' he explained. 'I think Lisa ran him over.'
'Why?' she asked.
'Because I think he's the father of her baby and he doesn't want to know,' answered Des.
Sheelagh frowned. 'Did he accuse her?'
'No,' he admitted.
'So what do you wanna do?' she questioned.
'Ask her,' he said simply.
Gesturing him towards the interview room, she muttered, 'Right.'
It turned out his hunch was correct, though Lisa wouldn't admit it directly. The look on her face unfortunately couldn't be taken as evidence and they were forced to watch her flee without saying one incriminating word.
As they were walking towards her office, Des growled. 'Not being able to prosecute, that's what really gets to me. It gets under my skin,' he went on. 'Especially when you know they've done it.'
'What people won't do for a bit on the side,' she commented.
'You know one of the first shouts I went on, it was this kebab shop owner,' Des said after a moment. 'Now he'd robbed his own till and I knew he'd robbed his own till and he knew I knew that he'd robbed his own till, but when I looked him in the eye he still lied to me. It's always stayed with me, that.'
'It's frustrating,' she replied.
The phone in her office was ringing along the corridor. She dropped the files she was carrying onto the desk and picked it up, surprised to hear Connor's voice on the line. Of course he wanted to stay at his friend's when the choice was staying home alone with her. Patrick, Declan and Siobhan were all away. She was aware of Des listening in on the conversation from his place in the doorway and answered his questioning expression with the truth – a giant mistake.
He immediately nudged the door shut with his foot and approached her, an unmistakable look in his eye. When he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her into a passionate kiss she couldn't resist yielding, even if only for a moment. Then she dragged herself away.
'Des, don't,' she said.
'What do you wanna go home for?' he asked. 'There's no one there.'
'That's not the point,' she replied, shrugging his arms off.
'No, it isn't,' he agreed. 'Point is, I want you more than I've wanted anyone in my life. I've never felt this way, Sheelagh.'
She stared at his earnest face then reality caught up with her and she pushed past him. 'I can't do this.'
Grabbing at her arm, he said, 'I'll wait as long as it takes. Make it easier on both of us – come home with me while we've got the chance.'
'No,' she said firmly, prising his fingers from her jumper and yanking the door open. 'It's nearly the end of the shift, PC Taviner. Make sure you write up your report on the Moorfield case in the morning.'
Without another word, he stomped past her. Immediately, she felt the loss. It was lucky they were in the middle of the station or her resolve might've cracked. As it was, she took a few moments to lean against her desk before she pulled herself together and finished up the things she needed to. When she went to the changing rooms a little while later, she was beginning to feel a little more like herself.
As she yanked her jumper off the door opened and Gina entered. 'Sheelagh,' she said, 'fancy coming to the pub for a drink?'
'Oh, no, thanks,' she answered. 'It's a rare treat to have the house empty so I've got a hot date with a nice bath and the telly.' Gina acknowledged the wisdom of that with a shrug and turned to the door. Sheelagh was tugging her tie free when she remembered to question, 'Did you meet the new probationer?'
Gina spun on her heel and walked back. 'I did,' she said slowly.
Sheelagh began unbuttoning her shirt. 'What do you think?'
'Well, he's a bloke's bloke,' he answered. 'He'd get on very well with Des. That's where his centre of gravity is, if you know what I mean. I'll see you tomorrow,' she concluded before slipping out of the door.
'Night,' she muttered.
Left alone again, she found her mind irresistibly drawn back to Des, not helped much by Gina's words. She finished changing then rested her palm against the cool locker. The prospect of going home to an empty house was less enticing than she had made out to Gina. In fact, she was dreading it but she just didn't fancy being at the pub with the relief, especially if Des decided to tag along.
The Moorfield case and the feelings it had stirred up about Des had distracted her from the station gossip about Sam and Abi. Now, though, she found herself intrigued again. Grabbing her jacket, she climbed the stairs to CID. It was relatively late and there were only a few officers still around, Eva and Juliet amongst them. Even so, Sheelagh had no doubt that when she rounded the corner to Sam's private office she'd find her occupying her chair and she wasn't disappointed.
Diligently working, the only indication that Sheelagh could find to suggest that Sam was less than okay was the way she bit down on her lip until it should rightly have drawn blood. As Sheelagh stepped over the threshold Sam became aware of her presence and looked up. The expression on her face suggested she was gearing herself up for a fight then, seeing her, it morphed into something closer to fear. She dropped her pen and clasped her hands together on the desk.
'Are you all right?' Sheelagh asked.
'Course,' Sam replied with a false smile.
'What's going on?' she pressed.
Abruptly, Sam stood, rounding the desk and pushing the door closed. 'Nothing,' she said.
'Nothing?' repeated Sheelagh.
Sam swallowed. 'Nothing.'
Sighing, Sheelagh said, 'You can tell me anything, I think you know that by now.'
There was a moment when she thought Sam might yield. She squeezed her eyes closed and her chin shook as she opened her mouth. Then the shutters came down. Sheelagh had seen it before but seeing it now was worse. She truly thought she'd broken down Sam's defences to the extent that, when she was obviously struggling to cope, she might confide in her about it. Before her holiday Sam had said, only half-jokingly, that Sheelagh could see right through her. What she saw at the moment was a woman in pain recoiling from her aid. It wasn't a pretty sight.
'I can't,' Sam said, opening her eyes.
Sheelagh searched her face. 'Sam, what are you so scared of?'
She just shook her head.
Feeling the rejection keenly, Sheelagh reached for the door handle. 'Fine,' she said. 'I'll not disturb you any longer.'
Without another word or a backward glance, she left the office, aware of the anger in her gait and attributing it as much to Des as Sam. Even so, her fury must've shown on her face as she tramped out of CID. She was at the top of the staircase when footsteps caught up with her. She half-hoped it was Sam but it wasn't.
'Sarge,' Eva said, 'whatever the DI said, I wouldn't pay much attention to it.'
She frowned. 'Excuse me?'
'Looked like she was giving you a hard time, that's all,' replied Eva. 'Don't take it personally. She's just got some private stuff going on at the moment so don't take it to heart, yeah?'
Crossing her arms, Sheelagh repeated, 'Private stuff?'
'That's right,' Eva replied.
'I suppose you know what it's all about?' she questioned coldly.
Eva looked perplexed. 'Well, yeah.'
Sheelagh spun on her heel and started down the staircase. She heard Eva call after her but she elected to ignore it. The fact that Eva was in Sam's confidence when she wasn't irked more than it should and she wasn't going to hang around to listen to lectures on cutting the DI some slack. There was a marked difference in Sam keeping her troubles to herself and deliberately excluding someone she had begun to treat as a close friend. Perhaps Sheelagh wouldn't feel it so deeply if the situation with Des wasn't tormenting it as much as it was, though she suspected it would still hurt. How could Samantha prove she cared about her one day then push her away the next?
Stepping out into the evening sunshine, she trudged down the road, focusing on her plan of a bath and an evening in front of the telly. She was rather glad Patrick and the kids were away, with the mood she was currently in. As she began walking, however, she felt the presence of a car beside her. When she glanced over she found Des in that wreck of a car of his, driving slowly alongside her with a determined expression on his face. Her instinct was to ignore him but he pulled over and stepped in front of her before she could escape.
'What?' she asked.
Now he had her attention he hesitated. 'I feel like I'm making a right fool out of myself here, but I meant what I said in there.'
'I know you did,' she replied.
Prowling around, he came to rest against the fence. 'Come home with me then.'
'I can't,' she said.
'Yes, you can,' he argued.
'I'm married,' she said. 'I have teenage children.'
Pushing off from the fence, he began to circle her. 'Yeah, and you look after them, you bring them up well, you've got a good husband and you hold your job down and there's nothing wrong with any of that. Except you want more.'
She turned to face him, if only to rid herself of the feeling that he was studying her without her consent. 'Look,' she told him. 'I'm too old for this fluttering hearts and fumbling hands stuff.'
'You want more,' he insisted. 'I can see you do.'
'Why me?' she demanded. 'Why are you doing this?'
'Will you get in the car?' When she hesitated, he pressed, 'Just for a minute?'
It was as though her feet were moving without her consent. At the door she hesitated again then her body decided for her and slid into the passenger seat. It was hardly the first time she'd been in close proximity to Des recently but this felt more dangerous.
'Look,' he said, drawing her gaze over to him. 'I know this may sound stupid, but right now I can't stand the thought of being without you.'
She snorted and tore her eyes from him. 'The one that got away.'
'You give me something,' he argued. 'Something different.'
When he sighed she couldn't help but look at him again. 'What?' she demanded.
'I don't know,' he replied. 'But it's something I've never had before.'
His sincerity shook what resolve she had left and she reached for his hand. 'What makes you think I've got it?'
'You just do,' he returned, leaning over and kissing her. The last time she'd succumbed to him in this car she'd had the excuse of exhaustion and stress; now she was just giving in and Des knew that. Pulling back, he questioned, 'So are you coming or what?'
Stretching her hand back for the seatbelt, she smiled at him. A smug expression crossed his face as he ground the engine into life and they began cruising away from Sun Hill, the atmosphere in the car prickling at her skin.
The fog over her brain lasted until the middle of the night. Then she came to her senses and slipped out of his bed. Every ounce of her common sense told her not to leave in the middle of the night. With the network of cabbies around London it would be just her luck for word to get back to Patrick and she couldn't have that. Nor could she face a lengthy walk in the darkness. Being held hostage by a lunatic had rather dented her belief that she could defend herself if the need arose. She wasn't on the ball so she'd have to stay the night.
As soon as the sky began to lighten, she left. She barely thought about Des beyond extricating herself as quietly as possible. The streets were quiet, almost beautiful in this light. She tried to focus on that to avoid the reality of what she'd done. It worked – until she rounded the corner onto her own street, of course. Then it hit her full force. Her hand trembled as she unlocked the door. Everything was quiet inside, too quiet. The house was never like this. It was as though her life had been plucked out of it and everyone was gone. Feeling that sharply, she nudged the door closed and stood in the hallway for several minutes before she managed to pull herself together. She had to get a few hours sleep before her late shift or she'd be in trouble with Inspector Gold on top of everything else.
She didn't sleep well, but at least she slept. When she dragged herself into work she felt worse than if she'd been drinking for twelve straight hours. Fortunately, most of the relief were too delicate to point it out. She wasn't as lucky with the inspector though.
'You look worse than some of the yobs you'll be picking up,' Gina commented before she left the briefing room. 'Are you sure you're okay to lead out there?'
'Yes, Ma'am,' she replied curtly.
Gina's eyes narrowed at her tone. 'Off you trot then,' she said.
Sheelagh suspected she'd hear more about this later but, right now, she was eager to get away. Slipping out of the door, she headed to her office to collect her belongings then set off for the yard. However, as she rounded the corner she nearly hurtled into Sam. Immediately, she drew back, holding up a hand.
'Sorry, Guv,' she said. 'I didn't see you.'
The formal address slid from her tongue before she had chance to think about it. She supposed it was her exhausted subconscious edging ahead, isolating Sam's rejection from the previous night from her tumultuous feelings about Des. From the brief scrutinising look she allowed herself, she could see that Sam's mask was stretched further than yesterday and the surprise at her formality was plain.
Sam blinked and swallowed. 'Listen, Sheelagh –'
'What?' she cut in.
The usually unruffled DI Samantha Nixon didn't seem to know what to say. Sheelagh had encountered this several times in the last few months but yesterday's rejection of her help still stung too deeply for her to smooth things over. For someone usually in control of herself, Sheelagh suddenly felt detached from most markers of normality. Maybe she would've confided in Sam had she felt their friendship meant as much to her as it did to Sheelagh. If Sam had spoken to her last night about her litany of troubles then perhaps she'd have felt able to do the same. As it was, she was beginning to wonder if all she'd been for Samantha Nixon was a convenient ear, suddenly superseded by Eva Sharpe.
'Look,' Sheelagh said, 'you've no need to explain yourself to me. Eva's already told me that it was a personal matter.'
Sam's lips parted. 'It isn't like you think, Sheelagh.'
'It doesn't matter,' she replied. 'I have to get on.'
Brushing past her, she carried on along the corridor. Part of her wanted to turn around and sort this out, but it was overwhelmed by simmering irritation coupled with guilt over Des. Actually, with all the thoughts swirling around her head she was surprised she was still able to function. She didn't want to prove Gina right, she wanted to work the shift and take her mind off her troubles. That wasn't going to be so easy, she realised, when she remembered that she was going to be in the van with Des alongside Reg and Gabriel. It was going to be another exercise in torture.
Though Des tried to catch her eye in the yard, she managed to avoid it. The first couple of hours of the shift were fairly routine. They dealt with a few pub disturbances but they were mainly braced for chucking out time. Des, thankfully, didn't attempt to start a conversation with her. He exchanged banter with Reg and, especially, Gabriel in the back seat. Sheelagh was reminded of what Gina had said the other day about them being similar and she inwardly grimaced. Granted, she didn't know Gabriel very well but she could honestly say she hadn't warmed to him on first sight. Perhaps that's because he was a little too like Des – without his better qualities. What had drawn her to Des had been the man underneath the macho exterior. The moment she had seen that, coupled with the undeniable physical attraction she felt, she was probably doomed to make the mistake she had last night. Even so, that didn't excuse it, not one bit.
'Sarge?'
She flinched. It was Reg who'd spoken but all three of them were looking at her strangely. Wondering what she'd missed, she tried to appear professional. 'Yes, Reg?'
'Should we get involved in that, do you think?' he asked.
Fortunately, he was pointing to something beyond her head that she couldn't possibly have seen. Looking around, she saw a fracas between two drunken girls. It petered out within seconds and they wandered off in different directions. Sheelagh settled back in her seat, painfully aware of Des's gaze. When, a few minutes later, they were asked to relocate to a particular trouble-spot she was grateful of the activity.
They were thrown into the thick of a dispute outside a nightclub, with one fella in particular causing a real ruckus. Although Des wanted to nick him she was more circumspect. A night arresting every drunk they came across was going to result in a heap of paperwork and less time on the streets actually dispersing the idiots.
Some of them, though, they had to take back to base. As Reg and Gabriel were unloading the prisoners, she sensed Des about to corner her and tried to make it inside before he had a chance. It didn't work though – he caught her up on the ramp.
'Eh, you're playing it cool, aren't you?' he asked.
She tried not to look in his direction. 'Sorry?'
'Well, you weren't so cool last night,' he said. 'I've got the bites to prove it.'
The comment made her flush and, stopping, she lowered her voice. 'If you want fluttering eyelids and sniggering, Des, you've picked the wrong woman,' she answered. 'Last night was a one-off. Excuse me.'
Pushing past him, she went in through custody, too aware that he was on her heels as she headed towards her office. She half-hoped he'd leave it be but that wasn't his style. Once they were out of the bustle of custody he tried again.
'I had a really good time last night,' he said.
'We both carved another notch on the bed post,' she replied as they stopped inside her office doorway. She didn't want to be alone with him if she could help it.
'What are you talking about?' she questioned.
'That's what you do, isn't it?' Sheelagh retorted.
Des frowned. 'I don't know – is it? I mean, you might've been here before but I haven't.' Though she repressed her snort, she couldn't help the disbelieving smile that slipped onto her face. 'Look,' he went on, 'I don't want this to come out wrong, but you know when you're really looking forward to something and you get it and it's a let down? Well, it isn't with you.'
Before she could absorb those words and formulate a response, Gina came out of her office across the corridor. Feeling caught, Sheelagh tried to clear her face.
'Custody seems to be filling up at a rate of knots,' Gina said. 'What's happened?'
'It's Friday night, Ma'am,' she said.
'I know what night it is,' replied Gina.
Of course she did. Cringing, Sheelagh endured a mini-rant courtesy of the inspector, all the while feeling like a teenager hiding a secret boyfriend from her parents. From the way Gina's eyebrows contracted further than usual, she couldn't say her attempts to act normally had paid off.
'Well, don't just stand there,' Gina said. 'Get out there if it's so busy. Come on, chop chop.'
'Ma'am,' said Des promptly and strode off down the corridor. Without his presence, Sheelagh felt a little better – but not much.
'Is there something wrong with Des?' Gina questioned.
'No, Ma'am,' Sheelagh said.
'Good.' Gina held her gaze for a moment then retreated to her office. The knot in Sheelagh's stomach unravelled a little, but the realisation that she had to get back in the van with Des squashed any relief she might've felt. She took a minute to check her messages then steeled herself to get back out on the streets.
It being Canley on a Friday night, things only got worse out there. They stumbled across a man being beaten up at the roadside and, while Sheelagh was tending to him, Des found the rowdy lad he'd wanted to arrest earlier barely breathing on the other side of the street. They kept him alive until the ambulance arrived, accompanied by Inspector Gold. Gina instantly demanded to know why she didn't arrest the group earlier. Knowing she was off the ball didn't ease Sheelagh's sense of guilt and she accepted Gina's dressing-down silently. Only once the inspector had stomped off did Des circle back around to her.
'Was she having a go at you?' he asked.
Ignoring him, she questioned, 'Did Reg and Gabriel find anything?'
'Er, they found a tube ticket and a brick that they must have hit him with,' he replied after a moment. 'It's not your fault, you know,' he added.
'Don't look after me, Des,' she warned. 'I don't need it.'
With that, she went to check that the location of the two victims had been thoroughly searched then ushered Reg and Gabriel back into the van. They had to wait a few minutes for Des to join them and then he was uncharacteristically quiet as they relocated to another trouble-spot.
When a fight kicked off a little later, Reg and Gabriel left the van to deal with it. Sheelagh had expected Des to go with them and, when he didn't, felt her entire body stiffen
'I wanted to say something to you back at the station,' he said quietly.
'Des, give it up,' she tried. 'I don't need this.'
Look,' he continued, 'you've got me all wrong. I wasn't trying to be cool. What I wanted to say, I'm not very good with the words, is that when I unwrapped you it was...it was brilliant and if something's that good then it's gotta be mutual, hasn't it?'
To say he wasn't very eloquent, she couldn't help but smile and look over at him. 'Yeah, okay, you weren't so bad yourself,' she conceded.
'So why are you treating it like a one-night stand?' he pressed.
Groaning, she rested her head in her hands for a few seconds. 'Oh, I don't know,' she muttered.
'Well, don't,' he said. 'Because something like that... Well, it's best repeated, not forgotten.'
She glanced out of the window and sat up straighter. 'Look, now Reg is coming back. Now shush.'
'I wanna take you home with me again,' he persisted.
'Stop it, Des,' she said. 'It's a sin. It's adultery.'
He shook his head. 'You can't say that.'
'Stop it,' she insisted. 'Please.'
'I can't stop,' he returned. 'Not now I know what I'm missing.'
Fortunately, Reg lumbered back into the van followed by Gabriel. Des immediately started the engine, covering what could've been an awkward pause with a tirade about late shifts. Sheelagh tuned out as they travelled through the dark streets then a request came through from Inspector Gold for them to check in on the GBH victim at St Hughes before returning to the station. Sheelagh was eager to go in alone but Des was on her heels before she realised it. Once inside, she made an excuse about needing to use the ladies and took a few minutes to gather herself together in the safety of a cubicle, possibly the only place imaginable Des wouldn't follow her at the moment. Then she washed her face and went in search of the victim. She saw him being wheeled off along the corridor, apparently in a bad way, and approached Des hovering by the curtain.
'Where are they taking him?' she questioned.
'Down the operating theatre. He's got a brain haemorrhage.' When she sighed, he added, 'Look, it's not your fault.'
She frowned at him. 'That's the second time you've said that.'
'That's because it isn't,' he said.
'Which makes it sound like it is,' she retorted before turning to leave.
He caught up with her by the entrance, though he didn't say anything else. Reg was interested in the victim, at least giving them something to talk about during the short drive back to the station. As soon as they separated in the yard, she sought sanctuary in her office, killing the minutes until the shift finished by writing up her report for the GBH. Of course, she couldn't expect Des to leave it there and he knocked on the door half an hour later with his own report.
'Thanks,' she said, taking the file.
'Do you, erm, want me to wait or are you making your own way?' he questioned.
'I'm not coming, Des. I'm not in the mood.' As footsteps echoed along the corridor, he looked over his shoulder, reminding her of the risks they were taking. 'It's been a hard night,' she said.
'All the more reason,' he replied.
'I'm going home to my family,' she answered firmly. 'Another time?'
'Right,' he muttered.
He slammed the door and she sighed. It was the right decision, though she felt a slither of regret that she immediately tried to smother with her sense of responsibility. A one-off with Des was hardly justifiable but it was better than a full-blown affair. Maybe it was her guilt talking, making her desperate to go home and get involved in the usual family squabbles. Not that there'd be much time to do that with her next shift looming. With that in mind, she finished up her paperwork and headed home, desperate to get her head on her pillow.
The next shift came around sooner than she liked. Thanks to Patrick starting early and the kids bashing about as they got themselves together, she didn't get much sleep. Des kept resurfacing in her mind and so, to combat it, she focused on the GBH victim and the fact that she should've arrested him when they'd first encountered him. Thinking about the case at least gave her an outlet and by the time she got into work she decided she'd like to run with it – if CID hadn't already started an investigation. As soon as she'd changed into her uniform she went upstairs, realising belatedly that Sam was likely to be there. Perhaps, unconsciously, she was seeking her out as she would've done if she'd had the slightest idea that Sam would be interested in how conflicted she was feeling.
There was no obvious flash of blonde hair when she walked through the doors and most of the desks were empty. Breathing a little easier, she approached Mickey slumped over his paperwork.
'I was just wondering if anyone was dealing with the GBH from last night,' she said. 'Young lad suffered a brain haemorrhage, he's in St Hughes.'
Mickey sat back in her chair, evidently pleased for the distraction. 'Not assigned yet because he hadn't woken up and everyone's snowed under.' When her attention slipped down to his paperwork, he let out a wry chuckle. 'Court case, yeah? Believe me, I'd rather be out there doing some proper police work.'
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sam emerging from the direction of her office and stiffened. Focusing on Mickey, Sheelagh said, 'If you've no objection I'd like to stay with it.'
Grinning, he said, 'You doing our work for us? Yeah, I can cope with that.'
'Cheers,' she said, eager to get away. 'I'll let you know how we get on.'
When he nodded she made a break for the door but Sam was suddenly blocking her way. Though her stance was combative, Sheelagh read the pain in her eyes immediately. Despite the way Sam had shut her out, her instantaneous reaction was compassion. She'd spent too much time over the last few months growing close to this woman not to feel for her, even while she was still smarting from her rejection.
'I need to explain something,' Sam said quietly.
Sheelagh glanced around, much as she had when speaking to Des the night before. 'There's no need,' she said.
'Look,' Sam went on, forehead contracted, 'Eva overheard a conversation. I didn't choose to tell her what was going on, if that's what you're thinking.'
'But you chose not to tell me,' Sheelagh pointed out. 'And you're still doing it.'
Sam's hand swung forward, as if reaching for her. 'Okay, listen, I accept that but can you really say you've been honest with me a hundred percent?'
The bullet struck home. Sheelagh knew that on more than one occasion in the last month Sam had noticed her holding something back. Her reluctance to confide in her about Des might not seem comparable to whatever was driving Samantha to distraction but it was holding back nonetheless. Sighing, she shifted her weight and the expression on Sam's face eased.
'I'll explain,' she continued with a pained smile. 'I promise I'll –'
Beside them, the doors banged open and DCI Meadows steamed in. 'Samantha – Super's office. Now.'
He didn't wait for a response, spinning around and stomping back along the corridor. Sheelagh turned her attention back to Sam, mute like a mannequin and twice as pale. Whatever she had been about to say faded into the air as she visibly drew herself together. It was something Sheelagh could never fail to be impressed by – from her very first week at Sun Hill Sam's ability to adopt the mask as and when she needed it had startled her. Now, though, she saw the chinks; she guessed how much it was costing her.
'I'm sorry,' Sam murmured.
Sheelagh shook her head. 'Go.'
After a moment of hesitation Sam swallowed then nodded. As she moved past, Sheelagh reached out and squeezed her forearm. Sam glanced back and met her eye, grateful and sincere. Suddenly, not knowing the truth didn't matter as much to Sheelagh as it had five minutes ago. There was enough honesty in that look to convince her that her friendship was more than welcome, perhaps even valuable.
She watched Sam leave then followed her onto the landing slowly, seeing her square her shoulders before knocking and being admitted to the Super's office. A meeting with both DCI Meadows and Mr Okaro with that type of summons was hardly run-of-the-mill but Sheelagh wouldn't speculate. Perhaps Sam would explain in her own good time, 'maybe someday' as she'd said once.
Meanwhile, Sheelagh had an assault to investigate. She shook herself and walked down the back stairs, seeing Des hovering in the corridor. Steeling herself, she approached him.
'Des,' she said, 'about last night.'
He glanced at her as they began walking. 'Like I said,' he replied, 'I can wait.'
She withheld her grimace and tried to maintain her professional air. 'I mean the GBH,' she explained. 'I'm gonna get some more details off the lad with the bloody nose. I want you to chase up the tube ticket,' she added. 'See if one of the others dropped it. It's date and time stamped so you should be able to get something off the CCTV.'
'What about CID?' Des asked.
'I've told them we're keeping it,' she answered.
Frowning, he asked, 'Why?'
'I feel responsible,' she admitted.
He still looked confused, as if the concept of responsibility was beyond him. 'Is that because the wicked witch has had a go at you?'
'No,' she said. 'I just do.'
'Well, I was there and I don't feel responsible so you shouldn't,' he replied as they passed through the doors into the yard.
Sheelagh shrugged. 'Well, I've told CID we're keeping it so we are.'
Des stopped at the top of the ramp and she followed suit. 'Are you okay?' he questioned.
'I'm fine,' she murmured, even as her gaze drifted down his body. So much for keeping her distance. Maybe succumbing to Sam's apology upstairs had left her too open for any chat with Des.
'You know this you feeling responsible,' he said after a moment, 'are you sure it's about the assault?'
'I'm fine,' she repeated. Unable to resist, she picked a speck of fluff from his jumper, only for him to draw back, more aware of where they were than she was. Embarrassed, she muttered, 'So please, Des, see if the tube ticket gets us anywhere.'
Only when she walked away did she begin to feel more in control. Then the investigation itself began to sap that from her. The first lad they'd found last night was distinctly unhelpful, claiming he didn't know any of the lads he was with. A blatant lie, of course, and one she pulled him up on. Even so, he wouldn't budge.
It didn't help that when she returned to the station she was accosted by Gina on her way into her office.
'Why are you doing CID's work?' she demanded.
Sheelagh winced. 'Do you mean the GBH?'
'I do,' Gina returned.
'It's just that uniform were involved from the start,' she replied. 'I thought it'd be more effective.'
'Tying up three officers is not effective,' said Gina.
'Three?' Sheelagh questioned.
'Des, Reg and Gabriel.'
'I only tasked Des,' she said. 'I just wanted to see it through, Ma'am.'
Gina frowned. 'I can see that but why?'
Uneasy, she answered, 'I just did.'
'Is something bothering you?' Gina asked.
'No,' she lied. 'Why?'
'Well, you're not as sharp as usual,' said Gina. 'Everything all right at home?'
'Yeah.' It sounded pathetic to her own ears and she knew Inspector Gold didn't buy it for a second. Still, there was only so much intrusion Gina would countenance – luckily – and that seemed to be her limit.
'Right,' she said, 'then do what you should've done in the first place and send it up to CID. All right?'
Without waiting for a response, Gina stomped back to her own office. Before Sheelagh could shake herself back to work, Des walked in.
'Was she having a pop at you again?' he asked.
She rolled her eyes. 'Ah, Des, how did I get to this ripe old age without you looking out for me, eh? It's a total mystery to me.'
Looking sheepish, he disappeared along the corridor, though she had to admit the concern was nice. Sitting down at her desk, she wrote a quick email to Mickey detailing what she'd learned on the GBH case so far and adding that Inspector Gold had reassigned her. As she clicked 'send', she conceded that her reasons for trying to continue with the investigation in the first place were hardly altruistic. Yes, she felt responsible for being distracted while she was dealing with him the first time around, but it was as much to do with needing a focus for the shift that didn't involve sitting in the area car with Des attending shout after shout and suffering his comments in-between. At least with a specific case to focus on she'd been able to push him into investigating one strand while she managed another. Not that Inspector Gold had any clue about her motives – well, she certainly hoped not.
There was plenty of paperwork to catch up on and she focused on that until she heard over the radio that Des had arrested a suspect for the GBH she'd forgotten to officially pull him from, despite the inference of reassigning him to something else. Irritated, after giving him enough time to bring the fella in, she walked down to custody to have it out with him.
Unfortunately, it seemed Inspector Gold had beaten her to it. She waited until Gina stamped past her before she approached Des herself.
'Why didn't you tell me you were still working the GBH?' she demanded.
'Because you'd have told me to stop,' he replied with a shrug.
'That's right,' she said. 'And there's something else too,' she added, steering him back along the corridor.
'What's that?' he asked.
'I don't want my private life and the job being mixed up and I don't want you doing things for me just cos it's me,' she explained in a furious undertone.
He glanced sideways. 'So what do you want?'
'I don't feel comfortable with this, Des,' she answered, diverting away from his question. 'Not with us or what happened or how I feel.'
'So?' he pressed.
'So when it spills into my work or home I can't handle it,' she said as she walked into her office.
He hovered in the doorway, a cheeky grin on his face. 'Well, look, no spills,' he said, holding out his hand. 'Steady as a rock.'
It was the look on his face – she couldn't resist. 'I do need a bit of fun in my life though,' she said, drawn back to the door and pressing her hand against his chest with a smile.
'Right,' he said triumphantly. 'I know just the fella.'
Somehow giving in made her feel better, as though she'd spent the entire day skirting around the issue. To be fair, she had. She still didn't know how it would work, how she'd be able to justify it the next time they met or what lie she'd tell Patrick, but she pushed it to the back of her mind and focused on her work for the next hour or so. The act of admitting that what she felt for Des hadn't disintegrated after one night had freed the portion of her brain she'd committed to denying it and she was finally able to be useful. She tried to harness the feeling while it lasted.
That was the only reason she was still at her desk when Gina halted in the doorway. Looking up, Sheelagh caught sight of her troubled face then the newspaper hanging limply from her arm.
'Have you seen this?' Gina questioned.
She shook her head. 'Is it the evening paper?'
Nodding, Gina dropped it on the desk in front of her and Sheelagh nearly reeled. There on page nine was a picture of Sam under a headline about her having the lovechild of child-murderer Ian McCarthy.
'You didn't know,' said Gina.
Sheelagh glanced up, her palms still pressed against the newsprint. 'Did you?'
Stepping inside the office, Gina nudged the door shut. 'Not from Samantha. I was told by the Super in strict confidence in case it turns into an operational issue.'
'Will it?' she asked.
'Splashed all over the papers?' Gina returned. 'The press'll be camped outside and that's just for it was just about her, I'd say she could weather it, but it's more complicated than that.'
Sheelagh's eyes had been drawn back to the paper and she was reading slowly, trying to absorb every word. The reporter was Dougie Pritchard, of course it was. She'd known there was something fishy about his interest in Sam when she'd given him that interview about Matt but she hadn't guessed it was anything as serious as this. Similarly, while she'd guessed that the strange man hanging around the station was probably Abigail's father, she could never have imagined the story behind it, the secret Sam had kept to herself all these years.
'What do you reckon?' Gina asked finally.
'I know Sam,' she said after a moment. 'She'll try and front it out.'
Nodding, Gina murmured, 'Yep. You can keep that,' she added, gesturing to the paper, 'I've had my fill.'
Sheelagh watched her leave then reread the article twice over. Ian McCarthy – they didn't reveal his new name for legal reasons – had met his ex and his daughter – they couldn't give her name for legal reasons – at a bar in town where he'd been attacked by the uncle of his victim. That smacked of a set-up by Pritchard and she could almost see the relish on his face as he orchestrated it.
That said, the poor boy's family had every reason to be distraught given the severity of Ian McCarthy's crime. It was one of those that lingered in the public consciousness, so that barely a teenager herself and in another country for her youth, Sheelagh had learned the details – by osmosis maybe. It was horrific, something that stuck with her despite all she'd seen as first a nurse then a copper. Finally, she began to understand Sam's turmoil and she couldn't fathom how either she or Abi were coping with this latest problem.
Thinking over that saw her all the way home and then she was distracted for much of the evening. Perhaps if she'd been completely with it she might've been plagued by guilt over Des as she knew she should've been, but Samantha's situation occupied her mind almost completely. Before she realised it, she was back on her way to work.
Gina had been right about one thing – the press were camped outside the station. Since Patrick insisted on dropping her off, she had to wade through the cameras and reporters yelling for some kind of statement on DI Nixon's indiscretion. It was reminiscent of them hounding Eva after Joanna's disappearance and it made Sheelagh's blood boil in a similar way. She ploughed through them, jamming her elbow into several ribcages by accident as she progressed into the front office.
After changing into her uniform, she went straight to her office and settled down to the endless stream of paperwork that seemed to materialise on her desk. It didn't surprise her when she heard giggling in the corridor in conjunction with Sam's name. Irritated, she rose and moved to the doorway. A few paces down were PCs Young and Harman, looking at a newspaper.
'Haven't you got anything better to do?' she demanded.
They exchanged a look and said in unison, 'Sorry, Sarge.'
She pointedly waited until they had moved on before she returned to her office, though she found it trickier to concentrate after that. More than ever, she wondered what was going on in Sam's head at the moment. She knew that CID had a big undercover operation going at a police warehouse with Ken Drummond in as a security guard. Keeping track of that was hard enough at the best of times, without throwing something like this into the mix. Sam would claim she was dealing with it, Sheelagh knew that much, but that didn't necessarily mean she was.
Not more than an hour later Gina Gold appeared in the doorway, more harried than usual. 'Abigail Nixon's being harassed by reporters at home. Samantha's asked me to send a car to collect her.'
Sheelagh immediately stood. 'May I?'
A smile flicked across Gina's face. 'I was hoping you would.'
Grabbing her hat, Sheelagh set off straight away, grateful to be going out through the yard and therefore not encountering that parasitic posse out front. The presence at Sam's house was less obvious but she knew they'd be around here somewhere. After parking up on the street she went straight up the path and knocked on the door heavily.
'It's Sergeant Murphy,' she called.
Abi had obviously been waiting near the door – it opened quickly, revealing her to be as pale as she'd been after that overdose a while ago. 'Sheelagh?' she murmured.
Wincing at her tone, Sheelagh reached forward and squeezed her arm. 'It's all right. I'll get you to the station, sweetheart. Come on – have you got your keys?'
On her nod, Sheelagh ushered her out of the door and took the keys when she couldn't manage the lock. Then she got her to the car, only seeing the familiar flash of a camera lens emerging from the alleyway that led to the back of the house as they drove down the road. Abi slumped in the passenger seat, her arms crossed over her stomach in a protective manner that obviously wasn't working to make her feel better.
'You didn't know, did you?' Abi questioned suddenly.
Sheelagh glanced over. 'Not until I read it in the paper, no.'
Abi didn't speak again until they were back at Sun Hill, sliding further down in her seat to avoid any probing looks from the journalists hovering around outside the yard. Putting an arm around her shoulders, Sheelagh guided her into the station, aware of the officers openly stopping to gawp. Sensing Abi's discomfort, she didn't take her straight up to CID but instead took her into her office and shut the door.
Picking up the phone, she dialled Sam's extension which, naturally, she knew without checking.
'Nixon?' was the curt answer.
'I've got Abigail in my office,' Sheelagh said without preamble. 'Perhaps you could –'
'I'll come down,' Sam cut in, voice altered.
When she placed the phone back into its cradle Sheelagh became aware of Abi's agitation. She was twisting her hands in knots, eyes darting around the small room.
'Abi,' she said gently, 'it's okay.'
'I always wanted to know who my father was,' she muttered, raising her tearful eyes. 'Glenn's my father. Except his name's not Glenn and... When I met him he was so nice. I don't understand,' she said, sinking into a chair and burying her head in her hands. 'He wants to be my dad.'
Sheelagh felt a shiver tickle her spine as she knelt in front of Abi. 'Listen, I won't pretend to understand what you're going through. It's unthinkable, all of it. But you've got to remember that your mum loves you so much.'
Abi snorted. 'She loves herself.'
'That's not true,' replied Sheelagh firmly. 'I know that you're the most important thing in her life.'
'Why are you defending her?' Abi demanded. 'She's lied to you as well.'
'I don't mind about that right now,' she said and, surprisingly, she meant it. 'I'm more concerned about you, both of you.'
Trying in vain to blink away her tears, Abi murmured, 'You care about her as much as she cares about you. But you don't know her.'
'Abi...' As the girl's tears finally overflowed, Sheelagh pulled her forward into a hug. 'I know she loves you,' she went on. 'You can get through this.'
Though she snickered, Abi didn't contradict her. Instead, she clung onto her for a few minutes, her tears eventually subsiding in time for the door to open. Then she stiffened and withdrew slowly. Sheelagh glanced up to find Sam in the doorway, a troubled expression on her already-exhausted face. Feeling her knees creak, Sheelagh stood up and fished a tissue out from the box on her desk before passing it to Abi. Sam watched all this with a frown, as though she didn't quite know on what footing any of them stood with each other.
Finally, she cleared her throat and looked to her daughter. 'How about we get a drink in the canteen, sweetheart?'
After wiping her eyes, Abi stood and shrugged. 'Okay.'
Sam attempted a smile then shifted her attention to Sheelagh. Although she opened her mouth, no words came out. Shaking her head, Sheelagh swung her arm in the vague direction of the canteen, giving Sam permission to leave without trying to explain herself.
Abi glanced between them then said, 'Thank you, Sheelagh.'
'No problem,' she replied, eyes fixed on Sam. 'You know where I am.'
Sam held her gaze for another moment then ushered her daughter out of the office. 'Come on, Abi.'
Sheelagh watched them go then sank into her own chair. Reminding herself that it was still before lunchtime and the rest of the day could have anything in store didn't exactly relax her. In Sun Hill it seemed to take a matter of minutes for something to go disastrously wrong and heap more misery on them all.
