Sometimes a few days in Sun Hill felt like a lifetime.
Knowing things before other people was a perk of being Acting DI but it was also a curse sometimes. Perhaps if she'd seen Sheelagh since that conversation in the bathroom she might've confided in her about what was going on. She'd have felt no guilt whatsoever about doing that, not only because Sheelagh was already fully apprised of the problematic situation. Somehow, talking through her problems with Sheelagh helped her peace of mind and she knew that confidentiality was assured. Still, she got the distinct feeling Sheelagh had been avoiding her over the last couple of days. Whether that was something to do with Des Taviner again she didn't know, though she was itching to find out. If she hadn't been mindful of Sheelagh's right to privacy, she might've gone straight to Gina and asked her outright if she knew what was going on. From the few interactions she'd witnessed between Sheelagh and the inspector since their last coded conversation on the subject, Sam suspected something else had happened. Perhaps Gina had discovered something a little more concrete about Sheelagh's affair. That would at least explain the frostiness between them.
Sam had reined in her curiosity, just as she'd had to a dozen times around Sheelagh lately. Part of her was dismayed that Sheelagh didn't seem inclined to confide in her about Des but, on the other hand, they were certainly closer than Sam had a right to expect given her avoidance of the Glenn Weston issue. Whenever she doubted the strength of their friendship all she had to do was remember that, despite the fact she hadn't told her the reason behind her visit, Sheelagh had descended on her doorstep twice because she was upset about Des or something similar.
Even so, Sam had missed her company over the last few days. She badly needed to talk this one through before it hit the station headlines, though she couldn't seek her out solely for the purpose of unburdening herself. What Sheelagh was going through right now was probably bad enough without Sam throwing her own accelerant onto the fire.
Sitting in her office, she watched CID empty as people disappeared to Gary's surprise party. She was asked a few times if she was going along and she lied that she'd be there later. In truth, she had no intention of going to the party but, then, she didn't much feel like going home either. So she stayed in the limbo of paperwork, alternating it with revision for her upcoming final inspector exam. She'd told no one about that yet, not even Sheelagh.
A voice in the doorway startled her: 'Juliet said you were still here.'
Sam glanced up, undeniably relieved to see this particular friendly face. 'Aren't you going to the party?' she questioned.
Sheelagh shook her head as she collapsed into the chair opposite, still in her uniform. 'Couldn't face it. What about you?'
'I'd rather keep my head down,' she answered. 'Some things you don't want a ringside seat for.'
'What, Gary getting drunk?' Sheelagh asked.
She tried to smile but failed. 'I had DCI Ross on the phone earlier.'
Sheelagh sat up straighter. 'From MIT?'
'We've got a bit of a history, me and him,' Sam replied. 'He led the Kitson investigation and we clashed more than once. But he rang a few days ago to let me know there was a problem and he had the decency to give me a head's up about the results on Dr Preston's syringe before he...'
'Before he arrests Polly,' Sheelagh concluded for her in a murmur.
Sam felt as though a weight had been lifted. Nodding, she said, 'I'm a coward, Sheelagh. I couldn't face it. I had to keep it to myself for the last few days. It's been torture. Maybe I should've kept Polly here on a pretext tonight but I couldn't find her. I tried,' she added. 'Cathy said she'd gone shopping and was meeting her at the party.'
It seemed as if Sheelagh was having the same difficulty digesting the information that Sam had experienced a few days ago. Seeing Polly Page as a killer was hardly easy and then, of course, there was everything that came next. Sam had engrossed herself in the statement Sheelagh had taken from Polly following Dr Preston's death until she knew every detail. There was no way that statement correlated with her fingerprints being found on the syringe which proved she'd lied. At the very least that meant she was finished as a police officer, something Sam found unpalatable. The fact that Cathy Bradford was roaming around in CSU while Polly would be suspended unceremoniously wasn't something she appreciated. She might not have the same policing style as PC Page – in truth, it was a little too close to Sergeant Ackland's for her liking – but she recognised its uses. And, really, it was close to Sheelagh's style of working. However, what she could excuse and actually value in Sheelagh usually irritated her in other officers. Perhaps that was Gina Gold's influence rubbing off.
'Are they treating it as murder?' Sheelagh asked finally.
'I suspect so,' Sam said. 'Polly lied in her statement, didn't she?'
'But you don't think it was murder?' pressed Sheelagh.
'I've said before,' she answered, 'I don't think Polly's a murderer. You know, I didn't want to be right about this.'
'I know that,' Sheelagh said quietly.
Glancing up, Sam saw the sympathy in her eyes and was forced to take a long, steadying breath. She wanted to ask Sheelagh if she was all right, question her about what was going on and why she looked so pale, but she couldn't. Somehow she recognised that opening that can of worms would be bad for them both, though she couldn't explain why.
'Do you want a lift home?' she questioned after a few moments of silence.
A tired smile slipped onto Sheelagh's face. 'With or without ABBA?'
'Whichever you'd prefer,' she returned. 'Go on, you grab your stuff and I'll meet you in the front office.'
At least the prospect of giving Sheelagh a lift home gave her something to focus on. She shut down her computer and stowed her revision materials into her bag, checking that she hadn't left any telltale signs anywhere on the desk. She was funny with exams – they brought out the worst in her and the more people who knew about it the less chance she had of sailing through it. Abi seemed to have inherited that, more's the pity. Her GCSEs were going to be a nightmare in a few months and Sam was already bracing herself.
When she reached the front office Sheelagh was already waiting for her. She didn't ask how she'd managed to get changed so quickly but she was grateful not to have to make small talk with the PC behind the desk and they struck out into the darkening evening. They didn't say anything as they walked to the car but it was a comfortable silence, although she had to glance sideways a few times to check that feeling was mutual.
As they settled into the car, Sam gestured to the CD player. Sheelagh just shrugged and so, when it began spurting out 'SOS', the noise was perfectly welcome as far as she could see. They travelled without a word, only the changing songs keeping them company. Even so, Sam felt better by the end of the journey. She was reminded of Sheelagh driving her home after Abi's overdose – the atmosphere was a strange one in a different way and she dreaded what came after it. Tomorrow was going to be a nightmare at work and, along with that, she wasn't sure whatever was tormenting Sheelagh was going to disappear. After all, it hadn't yet. Maybe at some point she'd confide in her and, when she did, Sam intended to be sympathetic and open.
'Sam,' Sheelagh said abruptly, turning the music down.
She glanced sideways. They were only a minute or so from Sheelagh's street but perhaps that was why she'd broken her silence now. The look on anxiety on her friend's face was more acute than she was used to dealing with and for a moment it threw her. Maybe that was the reason Sheelagh's eyes drooped.
'What?' Sam questioned, despite knowing the opportunity had slipped through her fingers.
'Thanks for the lift,' Sheelagh muttered finally.
In an attempt to diffuse the tension, she replied, 'Thanks for putting up with ABBA.'
As the car drew to a halt, Sheelagh hesitated further, as though she was caught between the rock of staying in the car and the hard place of going into her own home. Sam knew that feeling well. Over the last year with Abi she'd been inclined more than once to drive back to the nick and spend the night catching up on her paperwork.
Reaching across the gearstick, Sam rested her hand over Sheelagh's. 'It means a lot, you know,' she said. 'That when I say I didn't want Polly's prints to be on that syringe you believe I mean it. Most people wouldn't, maybe they've got reason to think badly of me. So have you really,' she went on with a wry smile. 'But I hope you know that when I lied to you about Glenn, it wasn't that I didn't trust you. It was just that I couldn't be open with you, not right then. I got there eventually though.'
Sheelagh's eyes glistened in the darkness. 'So you did.' Leaning over, she pulled her into a lopsided hug that pressed the air out of Sam's body. Before she retreated, Sheelagh kissed her cheek. 'Thank you,' she murmured as she drew back.
Sam smiled and attempted an easy shrug. 'For what?' she asked. 'Night, Sheelagh.'
Holding her gaze for another moment, Sheelagh slipped out of the car. Just as she had the other night, Sam watched her into the house. This time she waited until the door was shut before she manoeuvred the car around and trundled off the nice housing estate. She felt a strange sort of sadness at the family home she was leaving behind, then she berated herself for not knowing that Abi was enough for her. Right now, cordial relations with her daughter were more than she deserved.
When she reached her own home it looked welcoming enough with every light in the place blazing. Dumping her keys on the table beside the door, she went through to the kitchen and found Abi seated at the table with three magazines spread out in front of her and her headphones in. With her presence unnoticed, Sam took a fiendish delight in snatching the headphones out of her daughter's ears in one swift murderous motion.
'Mum!'
She grinned. 'Evening, sweetheart.'
'You could've scared me to death,' Abi complained.
'You're young,' she replied, 'you'll get over it. Anyway,' she went on, gesturing to the magazines, 'since when did I open a beauty salon in my kitchen? Three at once is a bit ambitious.'
'I was comparing and contrasting,' Abi returned.
'Isn't that what you were meant to be doing for your English homework?' Sam questioned with a challenging smile.
Abi stared her out. 'I've done it.'
'Oh, right, great,' she answered. 'Can I see it?'
Growling, Abi's flicked her magazines closed. 'All right, I'll do it. I thought you were at a party tonight anyway.'
'Didn't feel like it,' she said. 'Gave Sheelagh a lift home and decided to torment you instead.'
'I'm honoured,' Abi said, rolling her eyes. 'How is Sheelagh?'
Sam crossed to the fridge, yanking the door opening and searching for something ready to eat. 'Okay, I think.'
'You don't sound sure,' commented Abi.
Turning back to her, Sam said, 'How about you get on with your homework and I'll order a pizza? That sound like a fair trade?'
After hesitating for a moment, Abi nodded and retreated up to her room. Perhaps she'd thought better of interrogating her, something Sam was grateful for. A double-barrelled assault from her astute daughter could possibly be the last straw for her right now.
The next day Polly Page's arrest was indeed the topic of all station gossip. For the most part people were disbelieving, firmly in Polly's corner. No one seemed to know the role that Sam had played in proceedings, much to her relief, and they were much too busy worrying about Polly's future than wondering which of their colleagues had aided the investigation.
Sam knew that Gina would be visiting Barton Street at some point to suspend Polly. So, before she left for the day, she made a point of seeking her out in the Inspector's Office. Seeing her across the corridor Sheelagh was abruptly at her side. She suspected that Sheelagh had wanted to ask the same question she was about to but hadn't wanted to face Gina alone. Whatever was going on between these two wasn't disappearing and Sam still couldn't shake the feeling it was about Des Taviner.
Glancing at Sheelagh, Sam couldn't help but smile. 'Afternoon,' she said. 'How are you today?'
'I'm all right,' Sheelagh returned. 'What about you?'
Gina cleared her throat. 'You two are aware you're in my office, aren't you?'
Sensing, rather than seeing, Sheelagh stiffen beside her, Sam immediately questioned, 'How did you get on with Polly earlier? How is she?'
'Not good,' Gina admitted. 'You heard they charged her?'
Sam looked to Sheelagh, seeing that she hadn't heard that piece of news either. 'No, I hadn't. Murder or manslaughter?'
'Murder,' Gina said quietly. 'I don't think it's sunk in for her yet. She'll appear in court in the morning.'
'What are the chances of bail?' Sheelagh asked.
'Previous good character and all that,' replied Gina. 'But it's a murder charge so...'
Sighing, Sam nodded then she jumped as Sheelagh squeezed her arm before abruptly returning to her own office and closing the door. Sam watched after her, troubled again but not really knowing why. Finally, she became aware that Gina was studying her.
'What?' she asked.
'I don't know,' Gina retorted. 'You tell me.'
'I wish I could,' she answered. 'I'll see you, Gina.'
Though the expression on her friend's face showed she was anything but satisfied, Sam didn't give her a chance to question her further. She inclined her head politely then returned to her own office to pack up for the night.
It was heading on for a week before Sam saw Sheelagh again properly and, for a minute, she didn't recognise her. She was following a blonde woman in uniform towards custody and it took her quite a while to realise that she recognised her walk, despite the fact that her hair only just slithered over her shoulders.
Then she called, 'Sheelagh!'
Turning, her friend managed a weak smile. 'Oh, hi.'
'I like the hair,' Sam said. 'Fancied a change, did you?'
'Something like that,' Sheelagh answered, reaching her hand up to her head self-consciously. 'To be honest, I went in there on a whim.'
'Well, it paid off,' she said sincerely.
When she glanced down to the floor, Sheelagh seemed uneasy, whether it was with the genuine compliment or something else. In fact, just from a cursory examination of how Sheelagh looked in the week's interval since their last meeting, Sam felt her concern reignite. She looked ill, there was no denying that.
'Sheelagh?' she asked carefully.
Lifting her head, Sheelagh looked nothing short of panicked and Sam instantly regretted the probing tone. She hadn't meant it to sound as interrogatory as it had, it was just the way she naturally phrased questions sometimes.
'I have to go,' Sheelagh said quickly. 'I'm in the area car today with... I'm in the area car.'
'Okay,' Sam replied, feigning ignorance of her anxiety. 'I'll catch you later.'
The way Sheelagh practically rushed out to the yard was disconcerting, though Sam tried to banish it from her mind. She was still labouring under the impression that Sheelagh would confide in her in her own good time. If that assumption proved incorrect then... Well, she didn't know what would happen then. She was rather hoping it wouldn't come to that.
It was a strange day on the Sun Hill crime front. Apparently there was a man running around Canley with a sword, one of the more peculiar shouts the relief had dealt with – and that was saying something. When Sam passed Sheelagh in the corridor after lunch she saw that her friend was about to walk straight on with just an anxious smile but Sam held out her arm to stop her.
'Hey,' she said, 'you be careful out there this afternoon with this lunatic running around.'
Sheelagh's face softened. 'I will, don't worry.'
'I'm a worrier,' she answered, squeezing Sheelagh's arm before she continued down the corridor without another word.
Drowning under a mountain of paperwork was her fate for the rest of the day. With legal jargon swimming through her brain, she took time out for a coffee late on. Sitting in the canteen, she sent a text to Abi to warn her that she wasn't likely to make it home in time for anything to eat then rested her head back and closed her eyes.
'Guv?' Tony's voice nearly gave her a coronary.
Smiling, she said, 'Sorry, Tone, I was miles away. Everything all right?'
'Well, that's what I was going to ask you,' he said. 'I'm not one for gossip but I know you and Sergeant Murphy are mates. I don't mean to speak out of turn.'
Immediately alert, she leaned forward. 'Why are you talking to me and not Inspector Gold?'
'Well, I don't think Sheelagh would listen to her and I don't want to make it into a drama. Thing is,' he went on, 'she shouldn't be in work if she's not up to it. Maybe it's admitting it to the inspector that's half the problem.'
'Not up to it?' Sam repeated.
'Food poisoning,' he explained. 'She was stood by the car trying not to throw up earlier. I reckon she doesn't want to look weak but if you're ill –'
'There's no shame in that,' Sam agreed.
'Maybe you could talk to her,' he suggested. 'Let her know it's all right to give in. She might accept it from you.'
'Is she still here?' asked Sam, already on her feet.
'Yes, Guv,' he answered with a smile.
She patted his shoulder on the way past. 'Thanks for the heads up, Tone.'
After checking the Sergeants' Office, custody and the locker room, her final port of call was the bathroom. Perhaps, given their habit of accidentally meeting there, she should've saved herself time and poked her head through that door first. As she walked down the corridor she caught sight of June Ackland exiting the bathroom, though, and noted the troubled expression on her face. When Sam then entered herself she was unsurprised to find Sheelagh in there touching up her make-up. No amount of blusher and lipstick could hide the fact that she did indeed look worse than Sam had ever seen her.
'You're not well,' Sam said without preamble.
Sheelagh grimaced as she glanced sideways. 'I'm fine.'
'You're lying,' she answered. 'Do yourself a favour, take a few days off.'
'I don't need to,' Sheelagh said, dumping her lipstick back into her bag.
Sighing, Sam crossed her arms. 'From what I heard, you were lucky not to throw up on duty.'
'Who have you been talking to?' questioned Sheelagh, fresh panic in her voice.
'At least let me give you a lift home,' Sam persisted.
'It's okay,' Sheelagh replied. 'Patrick's picking me up.'
'Okay, that's good. Listen,' she went on after a moment of inner-debate, 'will you promise me something?'
Though she looked anxious about it, Sheelagh questioned, 'What?'
'If you don't feel right tomorrow, stay home.'
'I'll be fine, Sam,' murmured Sheelagh, brushing past her on the way out of the door.
It didn't escape her notice, of course, that Sheelagh hadn't answered the question. Once more, Sam returned to her office with worries about her friend circulating in her mind and, once more, they followed her home.
By the time she got into work the next morning she'd almost made up her mind to ask Sheelagh outright what was going on. She expected to hear something along the lines of Des harassing her and, perhaps, her succumbing to it, but she had to ask the question. She couldn't assume anything. If she did that then she could safely say that she'd learned nothing from their months of friendship. She'd meant what she'd implied to Sheelagh last week in the car – she didn't expect honesty when she'd been so reticent herself about Glenn. There were reasons for her reticence and she knew there would be equally valid reasons for Sheelagh's reticence and, besides, she was mindful that forcing confidences out of people was a slippery slope. She was caught between wanting to help Sheelagh and wanting to let things flow naturally. In truth, she was worried that pushing her would chisel a chasm between them. If she could help from the sidelines then that was preferable but, as was becoming obvious, Sheelagh needed more than that, even if she didn't accept that fact.
Deliberately going downstairs midmorning, Sam recognised she was looking either for Sheelagh or for some sign she'd relented and called in sick. What she came across was confirmation she hadn't coupled with something interesting in its own right – she saw June Ackland rushing after Sheelagh only to be unceremoniously dismissed in a manner that was nothing like the Sheelagh Murphy Sam was so familiar with. Combined with the troubled look she'd noted on June's face last night, Sam had seen enough evidence to suggest a problem between the two sergeants. Now, officially, it was nothing to do with her, but she'd never been one to stifle her curiosity if she didn't have to.
Striding into step beside June, she questioned, 'Everything all right?'
June jumped out of her skin then threw her a suspicious look. 'Yes, Guv.'
'You haven't seen Sergeant Murphy have you?' she asked.
'Not really, no. Is there anything I can do to help?'
Sam wondered at the lie, so different from the usual demeanour of the woman Gina disparagingly labled 'Saint June', and she also wondered at the friction she'd just witnessed. Both Sheelagh and June were compassionate, conciliatory coppers; for them to disagree on something professional was unlikely, but, then, Sam did get the impression it was more personal than professional.
'No, it's nothing urgent,' she replied with her best attempt at an easy smile. It wouldn't wash with Sheelagh but June was a different prospect. 'Thanks anyway.'
Returning to CID, she dug into her paperwork as much as she could before she was due to leave for a meeting. That one was a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time – Jack had originally been scheduled to attend but she'd been in the room when he'd received a courtesy call about it. On the plus side, it would get her out of the station for most of the day. On the down side, she'd likely be the only woman in a room full of men discussing violence against women. It was going to be an experience, that was for sure.
After a quick sandwich she was heading out of the nick when she finally caught a moment with Sheelagh. It was debatable whether, if Sheelagh had seen the danger coming along the corridor, she wouldn't have just spun around and avoided any conversation. She looked like a rabbit caught in headlights and that was enough to divert Sam from the delicate interrogation she'd set her mind on this morning.
'Don't suppose you could pretend to be me for a few hours, could you?' she asked. 'You're more diplomatic than me. When you smile at bad jokes you look like you mean it.'
Sheelagh's shoulders relaxed a touch. 'Oh, that's practice, that's all.'
'I haven't got time to learn anything else,' Sam remarked. 'Come on, just snarl a few times in the right places and they'll believe you're me.'
'I'd agree with that,' Sheelagh said. 'Have you seen Phil and Debbie in the last half an hour?'
She shook her head. 'Thought they were responding to that report of body parts washing up on the riverbank.'
'They might've been,' answered Sheelagh, 'but they got a little sidetracked. I don't know what they landed in but it was brown and didn't smell particularly fragrant.'
Chuckling, she said, 'Phil was showing off his new suit around the office earlier. What a shame.'
'If you need to conjure up a smile this afternoon, try that image,' Sheelagh advised.
'You're a genius,' Sam told her, checking her watch. 'I've gotta go.'
Sheelagh nodded, more like her old self. 'I'll see you.'
Sam watched down the corridor then shook herself and began walking again, half a smile still on her face from that picture of Phil and Debbie covered in sludge.
The meeting was as mind-numbing as she expected it to be but she survived it with everyone around her believing she was intensely interested. There was a buffet provided afterwards, though she took one bite of a ham sandwich and discreetly stowed it in her pocket before claiming she had dinner plans with her daughter. That gave her the opportunity to slip off from the networking that formed part of the job these days. Usually she could stomach it as a necessary evil but she didn't feel quite settled at the moment and she couldn't bring herself to make small talk with idiots. Fortunately, those benevolent middle-aged men thought the idea of her going home to her teenage daughter was perfectly charming and let her go without much comment.
When she got to work the next morning the atmosphere in CID was flat. Checking her email, she found a report from Jack about an incident involving Eva yesterday. Apparently a suspect had died during arrest and, since it formed part of an investigation about a man being set alight in a racially-motivated attack, Eva's arrest tactics had been called into question. Sam's instincts told her the accusation was false, though she was rather relieved she hadn't been around to deal with it. She'd had quite enough of allegations against colleagues recently, plus she knew that Eva's personal life had been topsy-turvy lately. Paul had moved out after hearing about her fling with a drug dealer, adding separated co-parenting to her long list of things to do. None of that meant she'd assaulted a suspect, of course, but it threw a complex light on it.
Eva was in punctually. Even from her secluded office Sam felt the ripple around the deaprtment that accompanied her arrival. She immediately dropped her pen and went to the doorway.
'Eva,' she said.
Flinching, Eva dumped her bag beside her chair then trudged into the office. 'Yes, Guv?'
Rising, Sam rounded the desk and closed the door. 'How are you bearing up?'
'I'm okay,' she replied after a moment. 'Or I will be. You know it's rubbish, don't you, Guv?'
'Yes,' she said firmly. 'You just have to ride it out. Everybody knows what a good copper you are.'
'Even Phil was being nice to me yesterday,' Eva said with a wry smile. 'That's when I knew it was bad.'
'Well, you're on paperwork for the time being,' Sam continued, 'but you knew that already. And if you run out of things to do let me know.'
Eva snorted as she reached for the door. 'If I do get that desperate, Guv, you'll be the first to know.'
When the door clicked shut, Sam settled back at her desk to deal with her own mountain of paper. Once or twice she considered going downstairs on a pretext and perhaps checking up on Sheelagh but she didn't particularly want her catching her doing that. If Sheelagh was still adamant she was keeping her problems to herself then Sam wanted to allow her the illusion of privacy, even while she worried privately about it.
Late afternoon she had a genuine need to search the station for Ken to pass on an update about one of his cases. After delivering the message she was walking past Gina's office when the inspector called her in.
'Have you got any idea what's going on with Sheelagh?' Gina demanded.
Glancing over her shoulder to check the Sergeants' Office was empty, she stepped inside Gina's office and closed the door. 'What do you mean?' she asked.
'It's like she's had a personality swap with one of her kids,' Gina answered. 'Turning up late, looking lousy, not on the ball. Come on, is there something I need to know?'
'Listen,' she said, 'even if I did know something about Sheelagh's personal life, I couldn't break her confidence just because you're having issues. It's not an operational matter, is it?'
Gina leaned back in her chair. 'You don't know, do you? And it's winding you up something chronic.'
Letting out a uncomfortable chuckle, Sam replied, 'I wouldn't go that far.'
'Oh, I would,' Gina said. 'Do you know that I warned her if I got an inkling of any unprofessional relationships then she'd be out of my nick?'
'No,' Sam admitted, resting against the door. Abruptly, her desire to skirt around the issue disintegrated. 'Look, I haven't got a clue what's going on, Gina, I really haven't. She hasn't confided in me and I haven't pushed it.'
'Why not?' questioned Gina.
She shrugged. 'Because she didn't push me over Abi and Glenn,' she answered. 'Give her time. Whatever's going on, she'll come out of it. Everyone's allowed blips. I'm sure even you have them once in a while.'
'Once in a blue moon,' Gina retorted.
As there was a knock on the door Sam moved away from it. It was Kerry Young who popped her head into the office and said, 'Ma'am, it's all kicking off in custody.'
'Thanks for the bulletin, PC Young,' Gina said. 'I suppose you want a hand.'
Kerry cleared her throat. 'Yes, Ma'am. Sergeant Murphy's doing her nut.'
Gina glanced over and Sam nodded, slipping out of the door and deliberately forcing herself to turn away from custody. Wading in to resolve a uniform issue would hardly convince Sheelagh that Sam believed her claims that she was all right.
That afternoon she was dragged into resolving one of Debbie's problems, leading to her spending far too long trying to get the DS to justify her decision-making before eventually giving up and just charming the offended victim instead. She was lucky it was a man on the other end of the phone; her track record at charming women was woeful in comparison. Then, late in the day, there were stirrings in CID that brought her from her office in irritation.
'Mickey,' she said as he toppled his chair over, 'would you kindly tell me what the hell's going on?'
'Trust me, Guv,' he snapped, 'you don't wanna know.'
'If that was the case I wouldn't be asking, would I?' she returned.
Taking a few long breaths, he managed to calm himself down. Pressing his fingers into the corners of his eyes, he muttered, 'I've got a psychopath making threats against me and the idiots in custody have just let him walk out of the door by accident.'
'What?' she asked. Then, remembering exactly who had been in charge of custody the last she knew, she steadied her voice. 'What happened?'
'Does it matter?' he retorted sharply.
When he kicked a chair, she warned, 'Go home and cool off. You can go after this fella in the morning.'
'Yeah, if I've still got a job in the morning.' He aimed his foot at the desk.
'Oi,' she said, 'you won't have if you keep assaulting the furniture. I don't know what's going on, Mickey, but you need to calm down, do you hear me?'
'Yes, Guv,' he murmured. 'Sorry, Guv. I'll... I'll see you tomorrow.'
She watched him out of the office then, as an afterthought, went to the window to make sure he left the premises before returning to her own office. While her instinct might be to go downstairs and find out what was going on, she knew that was the wrong move. She'd have to wait for either Sheelagh or Gina to come to her, though she suspected it wouldn't take too long for that to occur and she was right.
As CID gradually quietened, Sam's concentration returned and she made a dent in her inbox, managing to decline several meetings that she had absolutely no interest in with very little compunction. Then she felt a shift in the atmosphere and put her pen down. Looking up, she found Sheelagh leaning against the door frame, recent tears scrubbed from her face.
'How long have you been standing there?' Sam asked.
'I didn't want to interrupt,' Sheelagh replied. 'I didn't know how welcome I'd be.'
Sam shook her head and indicated for her to sit down. 'How are you doing?'
'Please don't be nice to me,' murmured Sheelagh.
'Well, I'm assuming it was an honest mistake,' Sam said. 'I can't see it being anything else.'
'That doesn't make it any better, does it?' Sheelagh paused then questioned, 'How's Mickey?'
'Angry but he'll get over it. What happened down there?' she asked after a moment. 'I know it's been a bit chaotic all day.'
Sheelagh massaged her forehead. 'That's one word for it. People were battering each other. We had a group of yobs brought in all at once and they got heated. I asked one of the PCs to release a prisoner for me and somehow Delaney was released instead. I don't know how it happened,' she went on, 'but it's my responsibility. I was the custody sergeant, I was in charge.'
'And taking responsibility is what separates good officers from bad ones,' Sam said. 'Everyone makes mistakes. Even me,' she added with a smile. 'If you tell anyone I said that, I'll deny it until my dying breath.'
'If this was your case you'd hit the roof,' Sheelagh pointed out.
'You're probably right,' answered Sam. 'But it wasn't so you're safe.'
'Mickey's one of your team,' persisted Sheelagh.
Sam shrugged. 'I'll back him in a public forum, of course I will, the same way Gina'll back you.'
Nodding, Sheelagh lapsed into silence for a few seconds. Then she attempted a watery smile. 'I should get home.'
'Need a lift?' asked Sam.
'Thanks but I've got the car.' Standing, she hesitated in the doorway. 'Thanks.'
Watching her go, Sam couldn't help but think that what happened in custody earlier was symptomatic of what was going on with Sheelagh more generally. She wondered if perhaps Des had been down there, contributing to the chaos, though she could hardly go and ask Gina if that was the case. They might both know there was something between Sheelagh and Des but openly discussing it was another thing entirely.
The next day came around too quickly for Sam's liking. She found it difficult to get moving, however much she usually enjoyed walking into CID as Acting Detective Inspector. Now she was within weeks of passing her final exams she had high hopes that she could make that title permanent soon, though she wasn't going to share that hope with anyone just yet.
Eva was still restricted to paperwork, much to her irritation. Sam checked on her a few times in the morning then went downstairs at lunchtime to grab a sandwich and a coffee. As an afterthought, she bought a bar of chocolate and made sure to drop into the Sergeants' Office on the way back upstairs. The door and blinds were closed and she hesitated, wondering if that was Sheelagh's way of signalling she didn't want to talk to anyone. Then her selfish streak took over and she knocked on the door before pushing it open. Sheelagh's head snapped up, though she relaxed slightly on seeing her.
She held up the bar of chocolate. 'I can give you this and go away if you'd prefer.'
Smiling weakly, Sheelagh gestured for her to come inside. 'I'm sorry, I just wasn't feeling very sociable. Not that I'm getting much work done either.'
'Are you okay?' Sam questioned carefully.
'Have they caught that prisoner yet?' Sheelagh retorted.
'Not as yet,' she admitted. 'I know Mickey's been in and out most of the day. He's reporting directly to the DCI, I'm out of the loop.'
'You don't seem too bothered about that,' observed Sheelagh.
'Honestly?' She shrugged. 'I'm not. Did Gina give you any indication how long the investigation might take?'
'Not really, you know what it's like.'
'Just let it take its course,' Sam said. 'It was an error, nothing more. Anyway,' she went on briskly, 'I'll leave you be.'
'You're taking the chocolate,' Sheelagh said quickly.
Chuckling, she handed it over. 'Another honest mistake. Enjoy.'
'Thanks, Sam.'
As she slipped out of the office, she caught sight of Gina watching her from across the corridor. Perturbed, but not really knowing why, she turned and headed back up to CID, mentally recounting all the work she had to do. And a day of work was going to be followed by a night of exam revision – that wasn't going to go down at all well with Abi, especially if she didn't tell her what she was doing.
