When the kids were little Sheelagh had done what most parents did – bribed them to behave. She was considering resurrecting that sticker chart to reward herself for getting through one day at a time right now. Every night she curled up in bed, feeling the baby move inside of her as she tried to count the positives instead of focusing on the stresses mounting up in her life. The voice telling her to do that sounded remarkably like Samantha Nixon and, invariably, she found herself listening to it.
Occasionally, one of her stresses actually became the pressure she was putting on Sam. Although she hadn't really asked for anything, she was aware of how much of a disruptive influence she was to Sam's work routine at the moment. More than once, too, she'd seen something in Sam's eyes recently that she didn't fully understand. She prided herself on knowing her pretty well by now but this was something she couldn't put her finger on. Perhaps she was just tired of the role she'd suddenly found herself in but, no, Sheelagh couldn't truly accept that was the case.
That evening Sam when had sought her out following Eva's nightmare day Sheelagh had warned her she couldn't control everything. The wistful tone of voice, coupled with the expression on Sam's face, had piqued her interest, and then the fact that she'd practically run away from her added to the intrigue. Samantha Nixon only ran when there were emotions she couldn't deal with. So the big question was what Sam was trying to run from this time? Sheelagh couldn't work it out.
After the dedication of Cass Rickman's tree she'd cajoled Sam into talking to her and if Rob hadn't interrupted Sheelagh suspected she would've found how exactly what was bothering her. As it was, she'd have to wait and see, try to read Sam in the way she'd become so adept at and hope she'd get to the root of the problem in time.
With Sam and then Sheelagh herself having a few days off they hadn't crossed paths in a while, though she'd deliberately sent a few messages to set Sam's mind at ease. She knew she was worried about her and, truth be told, it made Sheelagh feel slightly better that someone cared about her right now. With no Patrick at home, the kids dipping in and out as they pleased and very few people at work knowing the truth of her situation, she'd feel lonely if it wasn't for Samantha Nixon's steady support.
There was a particular buzz around the station on the day she was back on-shift. Listening in to gossip was second nature to her now but people seemed to quieten on her approach. That disconcerted her slightly so, when she passed Ken Drummond in the corridor, she grabbed him as someone who couldn't usually keep his mouth shut – double-life excepted.
'What's going on around here?' she asked. 'It feels like I'm being kept out of the loop.'
He glanced up and down. 'Well, everyone knows you're matey with the DI, don't they?'
On the one hand she was relieved that this was nothing to do with Des, on the other she was instinctively anxious on Sam's behalf. 'What's wrong?'
'Looks like the Super's making a decision on the permanent job today,' he answered.
She bit her lip. 'How's it looking?'
'Who knows?' he retorted. 'I reckon after doing the job as long as she has she's a shoe-in but Phil reckons otherwise.'
'He would,' Sheelagh commented. 'Have you seen her this morning?'
'Yeah,' he said with a grimace. 'You could run the lights if you stuck wires on her ears. If she comes your way, calm her down, yeah? Reckon you're the only one who could manage it.'
Smiling, Sheelagh patted his arm. 'I'll do my best. Cheers, Ken.'
As she continued along to custody she pondered how Sam must be feeling right now. She knew how much she wanted this job, how hard she'd worked for it. In fact, perhaps that explained why she'd been so strange recently – she knew this was looming and her anxieties were kicking into gear. At this point, of course, there was very little she could do to change the outcome of the Super's decision. He'd had over a year, after all, to judge her performance. She doubted Sam would accept that though – she'd pull out all the stops until the last minute. It was just her nature.
Sheelagh had only been on custody a matter of minutes when a familiar figure strode towards the desk, hands stuffed into her coat pockets. She was obviously on her way out of the station and, yet, here she was in custody looking decidedly green. Quite naturally, Sheelagh moved to the edge of the desk to greet her and she assumed that Sam recognised her knowledge about what was going on. At least, she seemed to know she didn't have to tell her, which was maybe the same thing.
'I haven't got long,' Sam muttered. 'I told Debbie I left my phone upstairs.'
'It'll be a long day if you're working with her,' Sheelagh said.
Briefly, Sam buried her head in her hands. 'Jack's trying to distract me. It's a straightforward assault, I can't see it working for long. Or at all, if I'm honest,' she added with a wry smile.
Sheelagh discreetly squeezed her hand then withdrew. 'There's nothing you can do now.'
'I can work on my interpersonal skills,' Sam replied.
'Where did that come from?' asked Sheelagh, tilting her head to the side.
Sam shrugged. 'If I don't get the job, it's because I don't offer tea and cake to my team on a weekly basis. Which would've been more use if he'd told me six months ago.' Growling, she pressed her fingers into the corners of her eyes. 'I've gotta go. I just needed to see a friendly face.'
'Anytime,' Sheelagh said softly. 'I'll see you later.'
Sighing, Sam nodded then turned around and walked back the way she'd come. There it was again – the patented Nixon mask zinging back into action as her shoulders and head lifted. Other people might know she was stressed about the promotion situation but no one else would know the detail of it. In that respect, Sheelagh felt honoured.
If the day dragged for Sheelagh, she had no idea how Sam was coping. The DI's job was the hot topic of conversation around every corner, though Sam and Debbie did seem to be getting their teeth stuck into this apparently routine assault case and were back and forth to the station a few times from what Sheelagh gathered from surreptitious eavesdropping. The beauty of Sam being the object of gossip was that everyone seemed to know where she was at any given time. Of course, Sheelagh didn't like the fact she was under surveillance like that – nor did she like that she was effectively excluded from conversation because of her known friendship with Sam – but it allowed her to keep track of her movements. As long as she was working this case she was likely to be okay. If they wrapped it up, that's when Sheelagh would start to really worry about her.
When the pair of them brought in a suspect Sam didn't say a word, allowing Debbie to go through the custody checks with the fella while she stood off to the side. From a couple of discreet glances sideways, Sheelagh surmised that she was anxious about the promotion but that there was something else bothering her. Perhaps it was something Debbie had said while they were working together or perhaps it was the case itself. Either way, Sheelagh didn't get an opportunity to ask her and when Debbie returned the prisoner to the cells she was alone.
Frustratingly, Sheelagh didn't see Sam again before the end of her shift on custody. Then she went on refs before a brief spell on CAD. When she entered the canteen, though, she caught sight of Sam sat at a table with Phil, Debbie and Rob, all of them looking massively uncomfortable. Sheelagh grinned to herself and continued to the counter, getting a tea and sandwich before moving to the table nearest the door. She wasn't sure at what point Sam had spotted her but, after a few minutes, she murmured something to her team and escaped over to Sheelagh's table with her cup of tea.
'Interpersonal skills?' Sheelagh questioned innocently.
'I think it scared them as much as it scared me,' Sam muttered. 'Don't tell them I said that.'
'Of course not,' she answered with a grin. 'How did your simple case turn out?'
Sam sighed and leaned back in her chair. 'Not so simple. The perfect crime and completely unprovable.'
'You can't leave me with that,' Sheelagh said when no explanation was forthcoming.
Chuckling, Sam sipped her tea then began, 'The original call out was an assault at a gym. The victim didn't see anything, which was rubbish for a start – she was hit from the front. We were just getting somewhere with that investigation when Gary and Reg found the victim's sister dead in her bath at the flat they share.'
Sheelagh frowned. 'Really? That's bad luck. Except that you don't believe in luck,' she added knowingly.
With a smile, Sam replied, 'Not usually, no. I tried to give the woman the benefit of the doubt. Everything pointed to an accidental death. The sister was an epileptic. It was just a tragic set of circumstance. Except,' she went on with a wry shake of her head, 'I couldn't bring myself to believe it and the phone records didn't add up with what we'd been told. Anyway, we made an arrest for the assault, a colleague at the gym where both of the sisters worked. When we interviewed the assault victim again, though, she threw something else into the mix – she told us her sister was raped by this guy and she was assaulted because she confronted him.'
Sheelagh was fascinated, leaning across the table. 'Go on.'
'Well, the suspect then admitted to the assault,' Sam continued, 'but he claimed he was being blackmailed, threatened with an allegation of rape when, in actual fact, he was in a consensual relationship with the sister that turned sour. So back we went to the assault victim and she put an idea in my head. She questioned whether there was a connection between the assault on her and her sister's allegedly accidental death.'
'And there was?' asked Sheelagh.
Sam inhaled deeply. 'Oh, there was, all right. She was the connection. It came to me in a flash. There was broken glass in the bathroom, there were the phone records and the suspect's story ringing true, they were in deep with loan sharks, not to mention the fact that only one of them went to confront this alleged rapist – didn't sound very likely to me. So what happened,' she went on, 'was that our assault victim wanted to blackmail the guy and the sister didn't want to. The sister starts fitting in the bath and, rather than help her, our assault victim lets her die.'
Sheelagh gaped at her. 'You're joking?'
Shaking her head, Sam replied, 'She admitted it without admitting it. There's no hope in hell of getting a prosecution. I can't even think what we'd charge her on.'
'Does it make you feel any better that you worked it all out?' questioned Sheelagh after a moment.
'I would've preferred to nail her for it,' said Sam.
Sheelagh smiled and sipped her tea. 'Of course. But as a poor second-best? For what it's worth, I think you're a genius.'
'Well, we knew that,' Sam retorted, though the expression on her face was nothing short of delight. Draining her cup, she went on, 'I should go fill the DCI in before he goes home.'
Stretching across the table, Sheelagh rested a hand on her arm. 'Are you okay?'
Sam shrugged. 'I don't do well with suspense.'
'It'll be over soon,' Sheelagh assured her.
'For the job maybe,' Sam muttered.
Frowning, Sheelagh questioned, 'What do you mean? What else is going on?'
'Nothing,' answered Sam with perhaps the most unconvincing smile Sheelagh had ever seen. 'I'll see you tomorrow.'
'Okay,' murmured Sheelagh, watching her hurry out of the canteen.
There was another one of those peculiar moments that she didn't fully understand. That there was something bothering Sam was now undeniable, but so was the fact that she apparently didn't want to discuss it. Perhaps she just assumed that Sheelagh had enough on her plate – that was a very Samantha Nixon way of looking at things – but, given the chance, she'd gladly explain that wasn't the case. If she could be half the help to Sam when she needed it as she'd been to her over these last few weeks then she'd be content. There was no 'imposing' on her, nothing like that. It was just that Sheelagh saw her friend struggling and she wanted to help. The only question was whether Sam would let her.
Intermingled with her usual thoughts about the baby and the inescapable flashes about Des and her wreck of a marriage, Sheelagh was preoccupied that night wondering about Sam and her promotion. They'd hear in the next few days, maybe even today, so her senses were on high alert when she walked through the front office on her way into the station.
There was nothing yet, as least nothing that Marilyn felt the need to share with every passing officer. So Sheelagh continued through to the locker room, changing into her half-uniform and visiting Gina's office for instructions.
'Custody for the duration, if you don't mind.'
'Not at all, Ma'am.' Sheelagh hesitated with one foot already back in the corridor. 'Any news on the DI's job yet?'
The usually-inscrutable inspector blinked. Unfortunately, Sheelagh couldn't work out whether it was a good blink or a bad blink. 'I'm sure you'll be the second to know,' Gina answered. 'You and Sam are thick as thieves these days.'
'Yes, Ma'am,' she replied, uncertain how to take the comment given the hawkish way Gina was currently looking at her. 'I'll get to custody.'
'Mmm,' Gina returned, 'you do that.'
Sheelagh didn't have much time to ponder exactly what Gina meant by any of that before she was plunged into the hustle and bustle of custody. She enjoyed it for what it was, knowing that fairly soon it'd be a luxury the top brass wouldn't allow her in case she was randomly bitten by a prisoner or something.
Mid-morning, she jumped at the chance to take a few files up to the DI's office. As she walked through CID she kept her ears open but no one seemed to be any the wiser up here about the promotion prospects.
When she approached Sam's office the door was ajar but she was on the phone. Seeing her, a smile lit up Sam's face and she beckoned her in, holding up a finger and gesturing to the chair. Settling down with the files on her lap, Sheelagh couldn't help but listen in to the conversation and it must've shown on her face since Sam shot her a quizzical look as she hung up.
'What?' she asked.
Sheelagh shook her head. 'The name Clive Purshaw – it rings a bell, that's all. What's he done?'
'Nothing, that we know of,' Sam answered. 'His hire car was used in a hit and run this morning but he says it was stolen and we've no reason to think otherwise. Unless you're telling me we have,' she added, resting her elbows on the desk.
'I could barely tell you what day it is,' Sheelagh said. 'What's the case?'
'Ex-con run over this morning,' said Sam. 'Not long out of Longmarsh for killing a little girl in a hit and run of his own a few years ago. He only served eighteen months.'
Automatically, Sheelagh's hands rested on her stomach. 'Why so short a sentence?'
Sam shrugged. 'Extenuating circumstances, not sure what yet. Either way, the killer's now a victim and we need to square it away. Don't put yourself down anyway,' she went on. 'I'd take your memory on a bad day over anyone else's on a good one.'
Though touched, Sheelagh just smiled and pointed to the files she'd brought up with her. 'You're just saying that in the hope I'll take these away again.'
A warm smile drifted across Sam's lips. 'Guilty.' Then, as Sheelagh rose, she asked, 'Did you know Cathy Bradford's back today?'
Sheelagh shook her head. 'How's that going?'
Leaning across the desk, Sam lowered her voice. 'Me and Brandon walked in on her earlier watching her own television appearance on video. I swear, Sheelagh, she was mouthing her own words back at herself.'
With a grimace, Sheelagh questioned, 'How can anybody trust her after what she did to Polly?'
'I hope they can't,' Sam said darkly. 'Honestly, if she comes anywhere near you run and...'
When she trailed off, Sheelagh concluded, 'Tell you?'
A blush had snaked along Sam's neck. 'Well...yeah.'
'Honestly, I could shatter your reputation in an instant,' said Sheelagh, stepping towards the door.
'Sheelagh?' Sam's hesitant voice brought her back and there was a strange expression on her face. 'Thanks for not asking,' she continued. 'I don't know yet and everybody keeps asking.'
Stood in the doorway as she was, CID bustling behind her, Sheelagh couldn't really respond to that as she'd want to. It was odd – she knew Sam was holding something back from her but in this moment she seemed so sincere, as though their friendship was everything to her. Instead of articulating any of that, Sheelagh just smiled once more and left, wondering about the look on Sam's face for the next hour – at least until an encounter with Nick and Gary shook it from her mind.
She heard them before she saw them, stomping towards custody and arguing at a volume more in keeping with a playground than a police station. Feeling that it might be wise to put the desk between her and them, especially in her condition, she returned to the other side and waited until they reached her.
'Afternoon, Sarge,' Nick spat.
'Afternoon,' she returned apprehensively.
'Officer Klein, shoulder number 140,' he went on. 'Evidential material relating to the Hutton Road hit and run to be booked in, Sarge.' Dragging a strip of pills from his pocket, he slammed them onto the desk. 'Twelve tabs of Tomazipan, to be kept out of the reach of children and irresponsible adults like me.' He glared at Gary then back to Sheelagh. 'All present and correct?'
For a moment you could've heard a pin drop. Then Nick just inclined his head sharply and swept back off down the corridor. Watching him go, Sheelagh rounded the desk once more to talk to an uncomfortable-looking Gary.
'What is going on?' she demanded.
Gary shifted feet. 'Well, I was just keeping an eye on him. You know, after his rehab and everything.'
'Yeah, well, you've obviously gone a bit too far,' Sheelagh said.
'That's always been my problem, Sarge,' Gary replied. 'I'm a worrier.'
'Just give him some room, okay?' she suggested.
With a nod, Gary trudged off and she shook her head. His heart was in the right place but Nick couldn't be mollycoddled. If he was going to make mistakes with his rehab then he had to be responsible for them. As it was, Sheelagh was fairly confident he was approaching it in the right way and didn't share Gary's concerns about it.
The name Sam had been looking up – Clive Purshaw – still nagged at her memory and, finally, a little later she recalled why. It had been a case she'd encountered at her old nick, one involving a prison officer if she remembered correctly. Excusing herself from custody for ten minutes, she went to look it up herself instead of adding more pressure to Sam's day by suggesting she do it. Two minutes after that she was lumbering up the stairs in triumph.
Unfortunately for everyone concerned, Phil was also in the DI's office when she arrived. So Sheelagh knocked on the open door, infusing more professionalism into her pose than was usual in this office these days.
'This suspect you told me about? Clive Purshaw?' Sheelagh said without preamble and Sam nodded eagerly. 'I said his name rang a bell, I was right.'
Looking pleased, Sam questioned, 'What have you got on him?'
'He said he was a book dealer?' queried Sheelagh. 'Up until about a year ago he was an officer in Her Majesty's Prison Service – at Longmarsh.'
The significance of the discovery – that Purshaw worked at Longmarsh and the hit and run victim this morning had been imprisoned there – hit both Sam and Phil at the same time, though the glimmer of excitement on Sam's face was much more preferable to the sneer that appeared on Phil's.
'Thank you, Sheelagh,' Sam said, maintaining her professional exterior in front of Phil.
Inclining her head, she left them to it, hearing Phil launch into speculation before she even rounded the corner.
The pair of them obviously went out to arrest Purshaw because the next Sheelagh saw of either of them was when they brought the fella into custody, although Tony had brought down the father of the dead child earlier who was also a suspect in the hit and run but too drunk to be able to defend himself. He was currently sleeping it off in the cells.
There was a bounce in Sam's step as she brought Purshaw into custody but she didn't say anything other than what she had to in regards to the arrest. That intrigued Sheelagh – it was as though Phil was forming a barrier between them and, apart from his reputation as a thoroughly unpleasant entity in Sun Hill, there was something more than pure professionalism behind it. Sam didn't seem this cautious about their unlikely friendship around anyone else.
Looking at her as she booked Purshaw in, Sheelagh tried to ascertain whether she'd had the nod about the DI's role. Then again, that was something she'd be able to legitimately share and, Sheelagh thought with an inward grin, she wouldn't be able to resist. No, maybe this was just renewed confidence in her abilities or something similar. Whatever it was, it was beautiful to see.
Sam didn't stick around for the interview with Purshaw, asking instead to speak to the father of the dead little girl. Phil hovered in custody, ostensibly waiting for Ken but, it seemed to Sheelagh anyway, more hanging around to wind Sam up. Whatever his motives, it stopped them having a proper conversation and Sheelagh only managed to briefly meet her eye when she handed the prisoner over to Sam at the gate.
Then, however, the caring version of Samantha Nixon could legitimately expose herself to the grieving father. She steered him towards an interview room with as much care as Sheelagh had seen her do on other similar occasions and the door gently clicked shut.
Phil, on the other hand, still lingered with his arms planted on the desk.
'You wanna watch her, Sheelagh,' he said.
Returning to her side of the desk, she pulled the custody log towards her and made some adjustments. 'I'm sorry?' she queried.
'Could be harnessing yourself to a dead horse,' he replied.
'I'll take my chances,' she said. 'Was there something else you wanted, Phil? Only I'm not in the market for advice, I'm afraid.'
When she glanced up she found irritation splashed over his face. Whatever he expected to gain from this little conversation, she'd pulled the rug out from under him. Shaming her friendship with Sam wasn't going to work. While she was aware Sam was keen to keep it private from this colleague in particular, Sheelagh wasn't about to allow him to think that he could twist things just for the opportunity of hurting a woman he loathed. If friendships were that fickle in Phil Hunter's world then he'd obviously think he could throw a spanner in the works, but he didn't know them and he certainly couldn't alter her opinion of Sam.
He waited for a further reply then, when one wasn't forthcoming, he just snorted and wandered off to the interview room. Unlike Sam, he made sure he slammed the door.
It was only about fifteen minutes before Sam returned to custody but Sheelagh could see the change the interview had wrought on her. She was alone, hands buried in her pockets and her brow furrowed. Sheelagh stepped around the desk to meet her and Sam swallowed hard.
'That poor man,' she muttered finally. 'His daughter died and his life's over. Without her, he's...' Sighing, Sam covered her face. 'I'm sorry.'
'Don't apologise to me.' After checking there was no one else in sight, Sheelagh took her hand. 'It's okay.'
Meeting her eye, Sam nodded then pressed her lips together and cleared her throat. 'Can I use the custody phone please?'
Sheelagh chuckled. 'Seeing as it's you, go on.'
Although she'd never deliberately eavesdrop on any of Sam's conversations, she heard a snort of derision and turned around just as she cordially thanked the person on the other end of the phone and hung up.
'What is it?' Sheelagh queried.
Shaking her head, Sam said, 'Next time I ask Phil to draw up a list of suspects for a hit and run, remind me to explicitly tell him to check they can actually drive.'
'Oh, you must be joking,' replied Sheelagh.
'I wish I was,' Sam returned. 'I'd better release the poor guy. He's been through enough.'
She went to retrieve him from the interview room and Sheelagh discharged him from custody as quickly as she could. Then she watched Sam walk him along the corridor, seeing her touch his shoulder and talk quietly to him before they rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight.
Before she returned, Phil and Ken came out of their interview with Clive Purshaw. He went back in the cell and Ken went to chase up a few leads. Phil, again, lingered but this time Sam stampeding down the corridor towards them prevented him from trying his manipulations a second time. Sheelagh didn't say a word, didn't even make eye-contact with Sam, just disappeared into the back and concentrated on her work. After a few moments Sam and Phil moved off together.
Relieved on custody for refs, Sheelagh first went in search of either Gary or Nick to see whether there'd been any repercussions from earlier. She found Gary out front kneeling beside a car she recognised as Nick's and approached him.
'Did you manage to sort things out with Nick?' she questioned.
Gary leapt to his feet. 'Eh? Erm, yeah, kind of. It's fine now.'
'Really?' She waited for his nod before continuing, 'So why are you trying to break into his car?'
'I'm not.' The cogs working in his brain were almost audible. 'He said I could borrow some jump leads.'
Sheelagh growled. 'Gary, I know I said to give Nick some room but that doesn't mean cover for him when he strays. Now what's going on?'
'Nothing,' he muttered.
'Gary,' she said firmly.
Sighing, he burst out, 'Well, how does this sound to you, right? An officer goes to meet someone in an alleyway, right? He gives her an envelope and she gives him a package.'
'And what did this officer tell his colleague?' queried Sheelagh.
'That he was going to meet a snout,' answered Gary.
'Did he see you follow him?' she pressed.
'No, but, whatever it was she gave him, it's in the boot.' When Sheelagh groaned, he went on, 'Look, I don't want to be a grass, Sarge but... I just don't want to see him get onto the drugs again.'
Bashing her hand on the car, she spun around and went back into the station. She needed time to think about this away from Gary's trusting gaze. One of the perils of being a sergeant was getting caught in sticky messes like this. She'd tried to support Nick – she liked him – but she couldn't overlook what Gary had told her. However, she did need to approach it carefully, not just steam in there. After all, there might still be a plausible explanation for all of this.
She went to the bathroom then the canteen, grabbing a tea then joining a group that consisted of Tony, Brandon, Honey, Gary and Nick. Those two were sullen with each other but, interestingly, Nick didn't look outright guilty, just irritated.
The conversation at the table was centred on Superintendent Okaro and some of the decisions he'd been making that seemed at odds with common sense. Despite agreeing with their sentiments, as the senior officer at the table she felt compelled to defend her superior.
'But do you think the Super's job's easy?' she asked, earning a disparaging look from Tony. 'He's got the Borough Commander breathing down his neck and he's got a budget he's got to make work.'
'Yeah, we know all that, Sarge,' Brandon said. 'But the point is when the pressure's on is Okaro more interested in playing politics or backing up his officers?'
She withdrew from the argument, sensing that she couldn't win. It rumbled on until the Super walked in behind Brandon and Nick, neither of whom shut up quickly enough. With one scathing look, the Super turned and left while Nick groaned and buried his head in his hands.
The silence around the table stretched then Gary cleared his throat. 'Heard about the DI's job?'
Sheelagh's ears pricked up then she caught sight of the expression on Tony's face and her heart sank. Even so, she didn't ask the question. She waited for someone else to do it.
'No,' Honey said, 'did Nixon get it?'
'She didn't,' Tony said quietly.
Her first impulse was to rise and she couldn't fight it. Leaving her tea, she slipped away from the table and went straight upstairs. She almost hesitated on the upstairs landing but Sam had rushed to her side so many times recently that this impulse felt natural – she was just a little apprehensive that the reversal wouldn't be appreciated. Sam's instincts were to shut her out, after all. She'd done it before with Glenn; there was something else she'd been keeping to herself. There was no guarantee that Sam would welcome her right now, no guarantee at all.
Even with that rational argument nipping at her brain, she couldn't bring herself to walk away. She had to try; she had to show Sam she cared. So, without allowing herself another moment of indecision, she walked straight through CID, deliberately ignoring the faces that turned in her direction.
It was no surprise that Sam's office door was shut fast and the blinds were closed. Aware of numerous eyes on her, Sheelagh knocked and, when that was ignored, tried the handle. Slipping inside the office, she found Sam sat illuminated only by her desk lamp, ready to yell at whoever had the temerity to disturb her brooding over her whisky.
'Don't tell me to go,' Sheelagh said quietly. 'I know that you want to, I understand. But, please, don't push me away, not again.'
Sam's lips parted and she seemed about to muster a defence. Then it crumpled. She looked at the desk and exhaled heavily, nodding her acquiescence. With a sigh of her own, Sheelagh sat down, not wanting to force Sam to speak immediately if she didn't want to but not prepared to leave the office until she had, duties be damned.
Draining her whisky, Sam refilled her glass. Then, after another protracted pause, she said, 'Phil knew, probably all day. He spread the rumour that I'd got it,' she added, 'then waited for the payoff.'
'He was doing the opposite with me earlier,' Sheelagh said.
Sam looked up. 'What do you mean?'
'Well, at the time I thought he was just stirring but... He heavily implied that you hadn't got it,' Sheelagh explained. 'We weren't even talking; he just mentioned it out of the blue.'
'I bet,' Sam said darkly, sipping her whisky. 'The thing about Phil Hunter is that he judges everybody by his own standards. He can't see nuance or...goodness or...friendship. He was hoping for a kill the messenger scenario. Why just screw me over with the job when he could...' She trailed off and shook her head. 'Credit where it's due, when it comes to being twisted he's a master at it.'
The unspoken words were more potent than the spoken ones and for a moment Sheelagh didn't know how to respond. Finally, she said, 'I'm sorry.'
Snorting, Sam queried, 'What are you sorry for? You didn't allow him to manipulate you, not like I did. I should've seen what he was up to today but I –'
'You deserved that job,' Sheelagh cut in. 'You shouldn't be made to feel ashamed for believing you'd got it.'
'I obviously didn't deserve it,' Sam returned.
'You won't convince me of that,' said Sheelagh. 'I'm almost as stubborn as you are. Sam,' she went on, feeling the argument brewing, 'do you remember the conversation we had in the bathroom when the Super sent you off on leave – after Glenn?'
Sam blinked then inclined her head. 'You think this is related to what happened with Abi?'
'It might be,' she answered. 'It might be what encouraged the Super to make the wrong decision but that's not what I'm driving at.'
'Go on,' murmured Sam. She rested her arms on the desk, leaning towards her with a rapt expression on her face and Sheelagh almost panicked at the sheer level of trust in her face. It wasn't what she'd come to this office expecting.
Swallowing, she said, 'You're good at the job. I know I'm biased,' she continued with a smile, 'but you've had the support of most people in this nick. Sure, people have talked behind your back and they've criticised you, but you're not doing the job if you're not upsetting people once in a while. You've had the support of Jack, Gina, Eva; wholehearted support, from what I've seen.'
'Okay...' Sam said slowly. 'But what does that matter now?'
'Of course it matters,' Sheelagh said, reaching across the desk and taking her hand. 'This is one man's decision. You know as well as I do that Okaro's being criticised from all angles at the moment. The way I see it, this is the latest in a series of dubious decisions that no one either respects or understands. And why has he made it? Well, I couldn't tell you but I remember what you said that day.'
Sam tilted her head to the side. 'You think he wanted an easier option, someone who wouldn't be distracted by personal problems, someone with less...baggage?'
'I don't know, darling,' she replied, 'but I do know it's nothing to do with your ability to do the job.'
Something had shifted on Sam's face and she withdrew, sipping her whisky. 'Like you said, you're biased.'
'It doesn't mean I'm wrong,' Sheelagh retorted.
They descended into silence. Sam seemed to be ruminating and Sheelagh didn't want to intrude. She sat quietly, feeling her baby kicking and repressing her urge to share that experience with Sam. Then she looked up and caught those green eyes studying her inquisitively.
'What's wrong?' Sam asked.
Sheelagh waved her hand. 'Oh...the baby's kicking, that's all.'
Lifting her chin slightly, Sam bit her lip. 'May I?'
'Please do,' Sheelagh said, unable to contain her smile.
Eagerly, Sam came around to join her, tentatively perching on the edge of the desk and stretching her fingers out but hesitating a little. Sheelagh took her hand, bringing it to her stomach and resting it just where her baby was kicking. Sam's face lit up as she felt it and, for a minute, she didn't look like a woman who'd just lost her prized hope of promotion. Then the baby stilled and she pulled her hand back, though she didn't return to her side of the desk.
'The thing is, Sheelagh,' she said quietly, crossing her arms, 'I was never a DS here, not really. I was here for one day and suddenly I'm Acting DI. I've done the job for over a year. I'm not sure I know how to be a DS in Sun Hill.'
'I can understand that,' Sheelagh murmured. Glancing to the floor, she said, 'You don't have to stay here, you could leave. You've passed your exams now; you've had a year's worth of experience on the job. I think you'd be welcomed elsewhere.'
'I can't leave,' Sam said firmly. 'I won't leave.'
Looking back to her, Sheelagh frowned. 'You're very sure on that point.'
'Well, I'm stubborn, remember.' Sliding from the desk, Sam returned to her chair and picked up her glass again. 'I'm not letting Phil Hunter beat me,' she added.
Sheelagh smiled along with her but, really, she was again analysing the unspoken content of Sam's words. Abruptly, it struck her that one of the primary reasons Sam was determined to stay in Sun Hill was because of her and she felt guilty for it, not that she could articulate that to Sam. She suspected it would be laughed off but that didn't make it any less of a reality.
'Don't make any decisions this minute,' she advised eventually.
Sam nodded but her mind seemed to have drifted again. After sipping her whisky, she delicately placed the glass back onto the desk and ran her finger around the rim. 'It's like I always hit the outside edge,' she said with a pained expression. 'I'm careering towards something then I bounce off in the opposite direction. I never see it coming. There was Glenn and then not making the cut as a profiler and this promotion and –'
She seemed to forcibly silence herself, seeking refuge in her drink again. Sheelagh watched her, again wondering what it was that Sam seemed unable to say to her but unable to fathom it out. Perhaps it was her imagination; perhaps Sam's head was swirling with so much stuff right now that she was understandably all over the place.
'Don't you need to get back to work?' Sam asked finally.
'Yeah,' answered Sheelagh, though she didn't move.
Maybe sensing her reluctance, Sam drained her glass and stood again. 'Don't let me keep you.'
It was a dismissal but, given how much Sam had opened up to her in the last fifteen minutes, Sheelagh could accept it. Really, it was more than she'd expected and she was almost proud of her for doing it. So she stood up wordlessly and turned towards the door. Then Sam's hand caught on her arm. Glancing back at her, Sheelagh was startled by the look on her face, even if she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. Before she could question it, Sam wrapped her arms around her in a hug that Sheelagh gratefully yielded to. She didn't realise how much she needed the comfort of this human contact until Sam's chin was nestled on her shoulder.
'Thank you,' Sam murmured as she withdrew, sniffing and looking away.
Sheelagh pressed the back of her hand to her cheek. 'Are you sure you'll be okay?'
Inhaling deeply, Sam stepped out of reach. It was as though she was physically forcing herself to be independent but, at this stage, perhaps it was the best thing she could do.
'I'll be fine,' she assured her.
'Okay,' Sheelagh said softly, 'then I'll see you tomorrow.'
'You certainly will,' Sam replied, tugging the door open for her. 'Goodnight, Sheelagh.'
For much of that night, Sheelagh's mind was taken up with Sam.
She couldn't understand the Super's thought-process on this one but, then again, she wasn't alone in not understanding what was going through Mr Okaro's head lately. Sam's personal problems over the last year had largely been resolved and, though she admitted she was biased, Sheelagh thought that CID was working well as far as she could see. As a general rule, if Phil Hunter hated something then it was working.
Yes, Sam could be abrasive at times. Just because that attitude was never turned on her, it didn't mean Sheelagh was blind to it. But it was all about that 'heart of ice' Gina had mentioned the other week. She'd implied that Sheelagh had been responsible for it melting and, given how supportive Sam had been over the pregnancy and Des, she'd probably agree that it had thawed dramatically in the last few months. Of course, that wasn't knowledge the rest of the station was privy to but Sheelagh would certainly say that Sam had become generally more approachable as a result. It was always there – that warmth – but just tucked away beyond the attack of people like Phil Hunter. Perhaps Okaro hadn't seen it personally but she suspected Jack Meadows had, and she knew for a fact that Gina had. A decision like this wasn't made in isolation by one senior officer – or, at least, it shouldn't be. She refused to believe that Jack and Gina hadn't preferred the status quo. After all, with a new DI you didn't know what you were getting.
Sam belonged in that job. When she'd admitted that she didn't know how to be a DS at Sun Hill Sheelagh had instinctively agreed that she couldn't picture it. Stepping back into line alongside Phil and Debbie – it was hardly going to be easy. Though she cited stubbornness, Sheelagh knew it was nothing to do with that. Sam was career-minded and the sensible thing for her to do would at least be to apply elsewhere but that wasn't going to happen, not as far as Sheelagh could see.
If she was any kind of friend, she'd push. She'd go into work and tell Sam that she shouldn't stay in a station that didn't appreciate her, that her talents would be snapped up elsewhere. However, even imagining the void that would leave in her daily life gave Sheelagh a chill. It might be selfish but she couldn't push Sam away, even for her own betterment. She needed her too much. Perhaps in a few months things would be different but, for now, she couldn't picture her life without Samantha Nixon in it.
When she got to work next day she was fully prepared for the topic of gossip to be Sam missing out on promotion and she wasn't wrong. People aware of their friendship shushed on seeing her coming but sometimes not fast enough and she hated to hear people gloating over the situation. She felt protective over Sam in a way that the woman herself would probably be embarrassed by. The reason Sheelagh had to walk away from the gossips was because she was worried what she'd say if she didn't. Sam didn't need her fighting her battles; she just needed her on the sidelines ready to catch her. At least, that was how Sheelagh saw their friendship at this precise moment.
She checked in with Gina for instructions and was motioned into the office. Closing the door behind her, Sheelagh stood with her hands clasped behind her back.
'Have you spoken to her?' Gina asked without preamble.
'Not this morning,' Sheelagh said. 'Last night, yes.'
Gina surveyed her shrewdly. 'How was she?'
'Better when I left her,' she answered.
'I'm sure.' Although she looked as though she wanted to expand on that, Gina simply said, 'Well, I want you on CAD for the most part today. I know you've got some paperwork to finish up so take a few breaks for that.'
'Yes, Ma'am,' she returned before promptly leaving.
CAD distracted her mind at least. Then, hearing Nick put in a call, she was reminded of the other thing that had occurred yesterday. She hadn't forgotten Gary's accusation, not entirely, but it had been superseded by Sam's bad news. Now she realised she had to deal with it rapidly, though she didn't want to put out a formal call in case one of the other senior officers picked up on it so she seized her chance when she heard Honey tasked to join Nick at the hospital where he was currently stationed with a victim. Excusing herself for five minutes, she tracked Honey down in the locker room and asked her to pass on a message to Nick to check in as soon as he returned.
Hearing over the radio a little while later that Nick was on his way back, she drafted in cover and set off in the direction of her office. She didn't quite get there before she saw Sam coming towards her. With the speed she usually reserved for examining her kids' faces, Sheelagh tried to ascertain how she was this morning. What she spotted on her face was the hidden anguish of the night before – likely invisible to anyone else – coupled with a very real irritation and delight at seeing her. Sheelagh surprised herself with that level of detail from just one look but, after all, she knew Sam extremely well by now.
'Looking for me?' she asked as they met in the middle of the corridor.
Sam held up the folder she was holding. 'Your paw prints are over this. I need some translation.'
Chuckling, she took it and flipped it open. It was a report she recognised as containing a write-up by Gary which had been passed upstairs to Rob – it was a nightmare combination.
'Ah,' she said. 'I see the problem.
Quirking an eyebrow, Sam replied, 'Funnily enough, Rob doesn't.' Glancing along the corridor, she lowered her voice. 'I had to pull Cathy Bradford from an interview with a rape victim earlier. You wouldn't believe her. Victim-blaming doesn't cover it. Ramani was as appalled as I was.'
'I bet,' Sheelagh murmured.
'She's asked me to prepare a performance review,' Sam added. 'If it's one of the last things I do as ADI I'm going to make it –' She broke off as they were approached by Gary and Yvonne Hemmingway, throwing Sheelagh one of their secret little looks. 'Are you wanting me or Sergeant Murphy?'
'You, Guv,' Yvonne answered. 'We attended a shout this morning about vandalism at the house of Dennis Weaver. You've had recent dealings with him, haven't you?'
Sam stood up a little straighter. 'I have. What was the vandalism?'
'Petty stuff,' said Yvonne, 'but I reckon it could escalate. We spoke to the wife, Guv.'
'Well, I'm surprised Christine Weaver gave you anything at all,' Sam commented.
'That villain's missus?' Yvonne questioned with a chuckle. 'She wasn't over the moon to see us.'
'Dennis Weaver's probably playing away, isn't he?' Sam returned. 'So what have you got – anything?'
Yvonne held out her notebook. 'L48 GHM – your lucky day. I'll check it out.'
'Good.' As the two constables moved off, Sam smiled at them then shifted her attention back to Sheelagh and smiled properly. The connection was broken by Phil literally barging in between them when it would've been just as easy to go around. He stomped over to Nick who had just appeared and Sam threw a glance at him. 'I swear,' she murmured, 'before my time's up here I'll...'
'I'm not visiting you in Holloway,' Sheelagh retorted, earning herself a rueful grin. Then she opened the folder again and pointed to the section she suspected Sam was having trouble with. 'He's got his dates wrong here – I checked them myself before it went upstairs. Gary's write-up was correct but Rob misinterpreted.'
'That's the polite way of putting it,' Sam said, casting another look in the direction of Phil still talking to Nick a few paces away. 'I'm blessed with idiots and scumbags. Present company excepted,' she added.
'Obviously,' answered Sheelagh, handing her the folder back. 'Is that all?'
'For now,' Sam replied. 'I'll catch you later.'
'I'll look forward to it,' Sheelagh said, watching her head towards the staircase.
Though she was putting a brave face on, the disappointment was still raw underneath. It wasn't that Sam was shielding it from Sheelagh, it was just that she was trusting her to see through it and say nothing. It was funny how Sheelagh knew these things but, then, it was funny how Sam seemed to know what was going through her mind at any given time. Of all the friendships she'd had in her life, this was both the most bizarre and the most fulfilling.
'You wanted to see me, Sarge?' Nick asked, startling her.
'Yes,' she said, gesturing him towards her office. 'I won't beat around the bush, Nick. I've heard that you might've fallen off the wagon, so to speak.'
Following her into the office, he closed the door. 'I'm clean, I haven't touched anything for months now. No drugs of any kind.'
'Yeah, there's been a number of things,' she replied, going to her desk and sitting down. 'Incidents.'
'What incidents?' questioned Nick.
'You've been making calls, arranging meetings,' she said. 'I'm not getting into specifics.'
'You think I've been using again.' When she glanced down he went on, 'I don't get this. What, has somebody been saying something –'
'You were seen in the street yesterday exchanging things with a woman,' Sheelagh cut in, 'passing something to her.'
'You don't think that I...' Trailing off, he rubbed his head. 'Oh, no way. You think I'm dealing? You have got this completely wrong, Sarge.'
'Okay, so you put me right. If it's not drugs then what is it?' Standing again, she pressed, 'Nick, I want an answer. If it's not drugs...'
With a sigh, he slumped into the chair opposite her. 'It's to do with Phil Hunter.'
'Go on,' Sheelagh said, rounding the desk. Her interest was undeniably piqued, though she was hardly going to give him an out at this stage. He could very well be playing her.
'Phil was...' Nick cleared his throat. 'A couple of years ago Phil was having an affair.'
While that was very interesting, she didn't know why he was telling her this now. 'What's that got to do with this?' she queried. 'This woman you were seen with yesterday, so who's she?' When he remained silent, she started for the door. 'If you'd rather speak to Inspector Gold –'
Standing, he blocked her path. 'No, it's got nothing to do with the job.' She stared at him, utilising the glare that worked so well on her teenage son. 'All right,' he continued, 'it's to do with Cindy, Phil's wife. If you don't believe me you can check it out for yourself.'
'I don't understand,' she said, returning to her seat.
'Well, I suppose I was like a shoulder for her to cry on, you know,' he explained. 'She's going through IVF. I mean, she's doing all of that and then she twigs that Phil's been having an affair. Now, now, what would you do if she came to you? You can't just go having an affair and expect to get away with it forever, can you?'
Although he wasn't to know, his words cut deep. Uncomfortably, she said, 'So this affair – you said it was over?'
'As much as it can be,' he answered. 'It's complicated. Phil fathered a child with the other woman.'
She didn't like the sudden parallels that were developing between her life and Phil Hunter's. Before she could formulate a response that didn't betray that fact to Nick, Yvonne surprised them both by knocking on the door and walking in.
'Sarge...' Looking around, she winced. 'Sorry, I thought the DI was... This business with Christine Weaver,' she continued. 'This is a bit delicate but I've checked the index number of the car the suspect drove away in and it belongs to Cindy Hunter, Phil's wife.'
'Right,' Sheelagh muttered, dropping her pen. 'Thanks, Yvonne.'
With a nod, Yvonne left them to it – and left the door open.
'Now do you understand, Sarge?' Nick asked.
'Phil had a child with Christine Weaver,' Sheelagh said then her gaze caught on Sam in the doorway. For whatever reason, she'd returned to the office and arrived just in time for the big revelation. The look on her face was half-shock and half-delight. Quickly, Sheelagh stood. 'Nick, that's all for now. Go on.'
He looked horrified that Sam had overheard them and slipped past her without a word. As she stepped over the threshold, Sheelagh hurried to close the door. Turning to Sam, she found her pacing as effectively as she could in such a small space.
'It's true, isn't it?' Sam questioned, spinning back to her. 'How stupid can you be?'
'This is Phil Hunter we're talking about,' Sheelagh retorted. 'What are you going to do?'
A slither of hatred crossed Sam's face then she made a visible effort to battle it down. 'I don't know.'
'Don't censor yourself,' said Sheelagh. 'If I were you, I'd hang him from the nearest tree by his ankles – or something else.'
Sam chuckled and sank into the chair Nick had recently vacated. 'Why do Dennis Weaver's dirty work for him?' she queried.
Leaning her shoulder against the door, Sheelagh watched her. 'I don't care what you do, just make sure you're clever about it. Phil's not a good enemy to have.'
'He's already my enemy,' Sam pointed out.
'I know that,' Sheelagh said with a smile. 'But, like you said, this is Dennis Weaver's fight. From what I know about him, he's more than capable of making Phil suffer for this. You don't have to put yourself in the firing line.'
Massaging her forehead, Sam muttered, 'I want him to know that I know.'
Sheelagh sighed. Stepping closer to Sam, she rested a hand on her shoulder, waiting until she looked up at her before she said, 'Promise me you'll be careful, promise me you won't wind him up.'
'I can't,' Sam replied. 'I'm sorry.'
'Never mind,' Sheelagh said. 'Don't apologise for being you.'
Reaching up, Sam covered her hand with her own briefly then she stood. 'I better go.'
'Wait,' said Sheelagh before she opened the door, 'what were you doing back here anyway?'
'Oh...' Sam shrugged and looked embarrassed. 'I wanted to thank you again for last night.'
'That was fortuitous timing,' Sheelagh commented.
'It was at that,' Sam returned.
With one final look, she yanked the door open and disappeared into the depths of the station, leaving Sheelagh watching after her. Although she knew in her heart that whatever Sam was going to do in relation to Phil's little parental revelation was the wrong course of action, she couldn't condemn her for it. After all, he'd deliberately kicked her when she was down yesterday and he'd done nothing but obstruct her professionally for well over a year from what Sheelagh knew. He'd been lucky to escape the Ron Gregory debacle with nothing but a question mark over his record. He had the luck of the devil – like Des, Sheelagh realised with a jolt. Perhaps that was why she disliked him so much at this moment and was willing to let Sam seek revenge if she wanted it so badly.
Going to the canteen a little while later, Sheelagh found herself sat with Honey while she had her lunch. It was the best scenario available, she supposed, because while Honey talked ten to the dozen she didn't necessarily expect a response. It gave Sheelagh time to brood on everything that had happened in the last few days. What startled her most – when she stopped to think about it – was that her own worries about Des and the baby had been squashed underneath her desire to look after Sam and keep her out of too much trouble.
Her attention was grabbed by the sight of Cathy Bradford spilling change all over the floor following a conversation with Brandon. Knowing what she did about Cathy's insensitive handling of a rape victim earlier, Sheelagh watched her demeanour with interest. She seemed completely at sea, as though what had happened this morning had tipped her over the edge. Sheelagh exchanged a look with Honey as Cathy scooped up her change, glared at them for staring and fled the canteen.
Then Marilyn tapped Sheelagh on the shoulder. 'You haven't seen Gary Best about, have you?' she asked. 'It's just there's some fella in reception asking for him. Dennis Weaver?'
'Ah.' Though she doubted the wisdom of pairing Sam with Dennis Weaver in any capacity, it was true that she was dealing with the case so she said, 'Try CID. The DI's handling that one.'
As Marilyn bustled off, Sheelagh bit her lip and sipped her tea. Part of her wanted to go and involve herself in the impending altercation between Sam and Dennis Weaver, but she knew that counted as imposing on Sam professionally and she couldn't countenance that. It was an odd situation, really. The boundaries between them were so blurred now she could barely see them at all. That should scare her – and it probably did scare Sam – but they were irresistibly intertwined now. Unpicking that would be difficult, even if she wanted to.
Following another couple of hours on CAD, she was relieved by a constable in order to work on her accumulating pile of paperwork. She was diligently working away in her office when a familiar set of footsteps approached. Dropping her pen, she waited for Sam to enter and saw the anger burning in her eyes.
'What happened?' Sheelagh questioned. 'What did Dennis Weaver say?'
Sam's forehead creased. 'Weaver?'
'He came in here looking for Gary,' explained Sheelagh. 'I told Marilyn to tell you.'
'I haven't seen him,' Sam replied, closing the door and resting her head back against it. 'You'll never guess what Cathy's gone and done now.'
'I doubt I would,' Sheelagh said with trepidation. 'Go on.'
Inhaling deeply, Sam met her gaze. 'We've got a rape victim upstairs claiming that she hit the record button on her answering machine right before she was attacked. Except the tape's gone missing and the last person to have it?'
Sheelagh stared at her. 'How does that even happen?'
'I don't know,' Sam answered. 'It's beyond belief. I'm sorry, Sheelagh, she's heading back to uniform after this. Ramani wants her out and I don't blame her.'
'Neither do I,' she said.
After a few moments, Sam's anger seemed to flare then die. She pushed off from the door and crossed her arms. 'Watch your back around her. I mean that. She's a liability, a danger to everybody around her as far as I'm concerned. Whether it's luck or design, nothing sticks. If this tape doesn't turn up it'll be a formal warning but it's not enough to get her out of here permanently.'
It was all Sheelagh could do to contain her fond smile. 'You don't need to worry about me, you know. I can take care of myself.'
Sam shrugged, though she seemed embarrassed again. She swivelled on her heel, crossing to the door and back again. 'If she doesn't find that tape... This case was complex to start with. A wife raped by her estranged husband, the son's stuck in the middle, the husband's gone to ground. I couldn't tell you why but there's something about it all that... I don't know,' she concluded with a shake of her head. 'Maybe my instincts aren't up to much at the moment.'
'I don't think that's the case,' Sheelagh said.
'Ramani was tip-toeing around me,' continued Sam. 'She didn't want me speaking to the Super on her behalf in my position. I'm afraid I wasn't too polite, though I know she was only trying to be considerate.'
'I'm sure she understands,' answered Sheelagh.
'Maybe that makes it worse,' Sam retorted. 'I don't like people feeling sorry for me, Sheelagh.'
'It's not pity,' she argued, 'it's empathy, affection. Something you have to cope with, I'm afraid, especially now your heart of ice is melting a little. At least in front of fortunate souls like me.'
With a soft snort, Sam nodded then a fresh frown appeared on her face. 'How is it I never got the message that Dennis Weaver was here? Or should I just go for the obvious answer?'
Sheelagh chuckled. 'You could, I suppose, even if I couldn't verify the suspicion. The last I knew, Marilyn was heading upstairs to tell you he was in the front office.'
'We'll see,' Sam said thoughtfully.
'Perhaps it's best you didn't see him,' replied Sheelagh after a moment of debate.
Sam tilted her head to the side. 'Maybe you're right.'
'I am?' she queried, slightly startled by the swift agreement.
'Yeah,' Sam answered softly, 'you are. Anyway,' she went on, clearing her throat, 'I need to go see if Cathy's found that tape yet. Until she does...'
Leaving the statement dangling, Sam threw her one final half-smile and left the office.
After finishing up her urgent paperwork, Sheelagh was back on CAD for a couple of hours. She was intrigued to receive another call about a disturbance at the Weaver residence which she passed onto Nick and then heard no more about. That was the tantalising thing about this place – sometimes you got the whole story and sometimes you only got snippets. With something like this Phil Hunter mess she wanted to be in the loop, at least so she could keep Sam in the loop. It was funny how so many of her thought processes this week boiled down to that point.
Eventually, she had to collect a few print-outs from the front office. While she was in there, of course, she was collared by Marilyn with a few queries and was consequently still hovering around when she caught sight of a familiar figure sweeping down the staircase. Sam seemed like a woman possessed and Sheelagh automatically stepped forward to the desk to get a better look. It must've been that Sam sensed the attention because she glanced over, blinked away some of her preoccupation and approached her.
'What is it?' Sheelagh asked in a whisper.
Sam squeezed the back of her hand. 'I'm either a genius or I've lost it completely. I'll tell you later,' she added then darted out of the front office before Sheelagh could probe further.
The intrigue Sam had left her with refused to dissipate even as she finished her shift on CAD and returned to her office. Once more Sheelagh was inclined to hide in her work to avoid going home, though she'd admit that she was lingering today partly to find out what on earth Sam had been up to this afternoon. She was fully expecting her to seek her out at the end of the day and she did, appearing in the open doorway looking completely drained.
'Genius or insanity?' Sheelagh questioned.
A tired smile flitted across Sam's face. 'Genius that led to insanity. I wish I'd left it be, honestly I do.'
'Tell me,' said Sheelagh simply.
Closing the door, Sam sat down in her usual chair. She closed her eyes and, for more than a minute, seemed to be gathering her thoughts together. When she opened her eyes again she still looked unnaturally depleted.
'This rape case,' she said finally, knotting her hands together on the edge of the table. 'Cathy found the tape but the audio didn't match up with her statement. It suggested someone broke into the house during the rape, not before. Me and Ramani talked to the victim again but she was holding something back, her brother-in-law as well. Forensics showed two bloodstains in the house. It all indicated that the husband – the rapist – was dead or seriously injured but the wife and brother-in-law were adamant he'd skipped the country.
'We were waiting for a breakthrough and I had a catch-up with Rob about another case,' she continued. 'There'd been some vandalism at a cemetery with a racist angle. Someone had reported a disturbance there last night. The only trouble was, the caretaker confirmed the graves had been vandalised days ago. And this cemetery was slap-bang in the middle of the path between the victim's properly and the brother-in-law's house. It just came to me.'
'The stroke of genius,' Sheelagh murmured.
Sam nodded. 'As soon as I got to the cemetery I was second-guessing myself. It was implausible bordering on insane. I thought maybe it was the promotion, maybe I was trying too hard. Ramani came down to join me, more to rule it out than anything I think, but we found a freshly-dug grave with links to the family. Part of me thought it was the brother-in-law, I hoped it was.'
'But it wasn't?' she questioned softly.
'No,' replied Sam, pressing her lips together. 'She wouldn't get a brief, she wouldn't stop talking. That monster beat her and raped her for fifteen years but she was adamant it wasn't self-defence. He was being held down when she killed him, he was helpless. I tried to interject, you know. There was a way to spin it, a good solicitor could've helped her. She doesn't deserve a life sentence, Sheelagh, she really doesn't, but the CPS have got a full confession out of her. It's not right.'
'You know this isn't your fault,' Sheelagh pointed out. 'You followed the evidence, you had to do it. You're a copper, Sam, it's what you do.'
Sam massaged her forehead. 'If I hadn't –'
'Done your job?' Sheelagh interrupted. 'You didn't know where it would lead, anymore than you do with any investigation. This one was tragic but it was still a crime that needed solving. Besides, you made a pretty brilliant connection there; you know that, don't you?'
Another ghostly smile crossed Sam's face as she accepted the compliment without comment.
'Go home,' advised Sheelagh. 'Get some sleep. None of this was your fault. Come tomorrow morning you'll realise that.'
'Thanks,' Sam murmured.
'Oh,' Sheelagh said, watching her stand, 'it might interest you to know that Nick attended another shout earlier at Dennis Weaver's house. I think his domestic troubles might be coming to a head.'
'At least that's one good thing to happen today,' returned Sam. 'Night, Sheelagh.'
'Goodnight,' she said, watching her slip out of the office marginally more upbeat than when she'd entered it ten minutes ago. That was something; not much but something.
The next day the Sun Hill gossips had more fodder than they knew what to do with.
Cathy Bradford was indeed back in uniform but that raised fewer eyebrows than the fact that Brandon Kane's house had gone up in flames last night. Although everyone was safe, the blame had been placed squarely at the feet of Honey Harman since she'd been staying there and the fire had apparently started in her room. It caused a bit of extra friction in a station already teeming with the stuff.
Superintendent Okaro was having another bad day. As Federation Rep, Nick Klein had been having lunch with the Borough Commander to discuss the grievances against the Super which were mounting by the day when thieves had busted in and robbed the place. It wasn't the best advert for Canley and Okaro was pushing for a result. Sheelagh was hiding away in her office hoping not to get dragged into anything while she had an afternoon with her paperwork.
That held until she needed to run a few things up to CID mid-afternoon. Sam's door was open and she looked up even before she knocked, as though she recognised her footsteps. Seeing the files in her hand she groaned.
'If you bury those I'll pay you,' she said then she cocked her head to the side. 'Actually, in a few weeks it won't be my responsibility. Just bury them till then.'
Sheelagh chuckled and dropped them on the desk. 'Think of what my superior officers would say.'
'They'd give you a medal,' Sam answered.
'One of them, perhaps,' she conceded. 'Are you okay?'
Shrugging, Sam asked, 'Did you hear what happened earlier?'
'To be honest, I've been keeping my head down,' she admitted.
'I knew you were smarter than me,' said Sam with a grin. 'Well, the Super wanted to throw everything at the robbery case. We were arresting some of the suspects down on the Maycroft when one jumped from a balcony while Phil was chasing him. Broke both his legs for a start.'
Sheelagh winced. 'Is he going to pull through?'
'We still don't know,' replied Sam. 'What didn't help was that far-right councillor Nicola Marsh turned up, screaming racism against the white residents of the estate. Nearly had me lynched. Oh, I'm fine,' she added before Sheelagh could ask the question. 'It takes a lot more than that to scare me. But she's raising merry hell down there. It won't end well, especially because we haven't currently got the evidence to lock these kids up. We went for the arrests too soon.'
'Not your call?' Sheelagh said shrewdly.
Sam leaned back in her chair. 'Nope.'
There was a flurry of activity in the main office behind her which discouraged Sheelagh from any further comment. Seeing understanding on that point in Sam's eyes, she simply nodded and left to return to another pile of paperwork.
She dealt with several problems throughout the afternoon, though thankfully nothing too complex and nothing that a flash of her irritation couldn't solve. One of the perks of being pregnant around here was that the male members of the relief didn't know how to treat her and the female ones just tended to realise she had more experience than them – in several ways.
Her toilet trips were becoming so frequent that she was considering asking Inspector Gold if she could move a desk in there and have done with it. She was certain it hadn't been this bad with her first three pregnancies but, then, she wasn't as young as she was. The trouble was that every time she had to move because of the baby the extent of her problems nipped at her brain. To quell the panic she forced her mind back to Sam and pondered how she was getting on under the Super's orders this afternoon.
The woman herself barrelled through the open office door about an hour before Sheelagh's shift ended. Shutting the station out, she leaned back against the door and grimaced.
'I couldn't help it,' she said.
Sheelagh raised an eyebrow. 'What did you do?'
'I told Phil that Dennis Weaver knows the truth about who Madison's dad is,' she admitted.
'Is that what the disturbance last night was about?' Sheelagh asked.
Sam pushed off from the door, looking at her curiously. 'That's your response?'
'Why not?' retorted Sheelagh. 'Phil doesn't deserve any courtesy as far as I can see.'
For a moment Sam seemed to consider that then she shrugged. 'In fairness, he did wind me up. If I chased a kid and he jumped off a balcony I'd at least have the decency to remember his name. I enjoyed bursting his bubble far too much though.'
'Well, maybe that's okay,' Sheelagh said evenly.
Checking her watch, Sam said, 'I've gotta go. I've released two of the robbery suspects without charge and I doubt the Super's going to be too happy about it. If we'd done the arrests my way...'
She left the thought unfinished and disappeared as swiftly as she'd appeared. Sheelagh smiled and shook her head, trying to focus back on her paperwork. It worked to the extent that time bled away and when there was a knock on the door she didn't realise that her shift was already over.
It was Gina standing there, looking as though she'd done ten rounds with Mike Tyson. 'Come on, Sheelagh,' she said. 'There's a drink with your name on it. Or there will be in a minute. Your shift's well over.'
'Yes, Ma'am,' she said with a smile. She didn't need to ask who was getting her a drink but she gratefully straightened out her paperwork and followed Gina across the hall. Settling in one of the chairs, she asked, 'Hard day?'
Gina snorted as she poured herself a drink. 'I've just had to rescue the Super from a lynching down on the Maycroft Estate courtesy of Nicola Marsh.'
'Seems to be the day for it down there,' Sheelagh commented. 'Is he all right?'
Removing her tie, Gina threw it down on the desk. 'Yep,' she said. 'No thanks to that woman.'
After taking a sip of her own whisky she poured another glass and then stowed the bottle safely away again. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. The idea was contagious. Sheelagh felt her own eyelids drooping and succumbed to it for a few moments. Then someone else entered the room and closed the door.
With a smile, Sheelagh opened her eyes and found Sam placing a glass of tropical looking juice on the edge of the desk. She held up a finger and produced a little umbrella out of nowhere, slotting it into the glass before taking her seat and reaching for her own drink.
'Where on earth did you find that?' Sheelagh questioned, unable to keep the smile from her face.
'Honey Harman has her uses,' Sam replied with a shrug. 'She has a stack of them in her locker apparently.'
Gina's snicker drew Sheelagh's attention to the fact that she was paying attention again. 'I'll add that to the list of things I don't need to know about my relief.'
'Probably best,' Sam said. Then she raised her glass a touch. 'Cheers.'
'Cheers,' Sheelagh and Gina echoed.
