A/N: Just to say, thanks for the reviews now I've resumed writing/editing/uploading this. It's definitely a labour of love - and it helps that UKTV have circled back around to the relevant episodes! Just a warning - this chapter's long and it's painful.


Sam loathed DI Manson with every fibre of her being.

It wouldn't have been nearly as bad if he'd been a decent replacement for her. Oh, she knew that she thought a lot of her own abilities but the balance in CID had been tipped upside down – suddenly the shirkers like Phil and Rob were top of the heap and the hard-working coppers like Eva were pushed down the pecking order. Sam felt an instinctive solidarity with an officer whose skills she'd trust far more than the likes of Phil Hunter, even if she didn't also consider her a friend. While she could understand Manson wanting to put his stamp on Sun Hill CID, the alterations didn't strike her as particularly progressive. The sensible portion of her brain – the portion that wasn't still smarting from being overlooked for the job – told her that Neil Manson was a self-centred careerist. He was ticking a box as DI, aiming to climb the greasy pole as fast as he could. If she could ride out the wave of his dislike then she might find herself in a position to regain the DI's job in a year or less. However, a little voice at the back of her mind kept reminding her that she could recover her rank elsewhere. The professional reasons for that hit her in the face every time she was forced to converse with DI Manson but they were quickly swamped by her personal attachment to Sun Hill.

The last few weeks, as things at work began crushing her, she'd sought comfort at Sheelagh's. Even while she was doing it, she knew it was wrong. On New Year's Day, for instance, she'd managed to confuse Sheelagh when she'd been unable to hide her reaction to one of those periodic reminders that they were only ever going to be friends. It had been a similar story when she'd gone to tell her about Cathy being caught, with the words almost spilling out until she forced herself to reassemble that mask of hers, more for Sheelagh's sake than anything. They made a good team with Niamh, Sam couldn't help but recognise that, and she didn't want to jeopardise it. So she'd clammed up again and she could see the confusion and disappointment in Sheelagh's eyes. She almost wished she had someone to talk this over with but there was no one. Ironically enough, the only person she'd trust with such a secret was the one person she could never share it with.

The day after the shooting debacle she felt more fragile than usual walking into the nick. She wasn't kidding herself. She'd gone after a result yesterday regardless of the consequences, stung by the camaraderie between Rob and Manson and not being able to pull the strings on her own operations anymore. Sure, she'd got the result, but a man was lying in hospital with a gunshot wound while his son was in a cell going down for trafficking converted pistols. It might look good on the balance sheet as far as DI Manson was concerned but she didn't like the way her gung-ho attitude had backfired on her and she'd spent most of the night stewing about it.

Her morning was spent with her paperwork, completing the reports for yesterday to square them away then trawling back through her pile. It was amazing how it accumulated, though at least it gave her something simple to focus on while her colleagues were out chasing results. They might still be eager to impress DI Manson but she suspected her efforts in that quarter were both in vain and finished with.

Finally, she was forced downstairs to check in with Gina on a case. Automatically, she glanced across the corridor but the Sergeants' Office was empty, so she knocked straight on Gina's door before being admitted.

'I need to have a chat about this,' she said, dropping the file onto the desk without preamble. Somehow calling Gina 'ma'am' was a little too formal, even if it was technically appropriate these days. In company, perhaps she'd do it, but they weren't in company now and Inspector Gold was more her friend than her superior officer.

To her surprise, when Gina looked up, she growled. 'She hasn't told you, has she?'

'Told me what?' she questioned.

'Shut the door,' said Gina.

She did so then spun back and crossed her arms. 'Told me what?' she demanded.

Gina looked as though she'd rather be facing down a raging bull. Standing, she rounded the desk and perched on the edge of it, explained, 'Sheelagh saw Des outside the nick last night.'

'She what?' Sam's head suddenly felt as if was whirling and she struggled to get a handle on it. 'Wait, wait, back up a minute. Last night – you're telling me she saw Des outside the station last night?'

Wincing, Gina replied, 'She reported it to me this morning, once she'd decided she wasn't hallucinating.'

The sense of exclusion sliced into her before she could control it. For a moment it consumed her then she raised her chin and remembered the pertinent point here. 'Is Sheelagh okay? Is Niamh? Why didn't she call it in last night?'

'Look,' said Gina, 'reading between the lines, I reckon the kids were with her last night. Even Des isn't daft enough to go up against two strapping young lads who blame him for breaking up their family. Besides which, if he hurt them, Sheelagh would never forgive him, would she?'

'No,' Sam murmured, pinching the bridge of her nose.

She was still struggling to comprehend that Sheelagh had walked into the nick this morning and gone straight to Gina instead of talking to her – instead of calling her last night the second she thought she saw Des. Her professional desire to see Des imprisoned for what he'd done was abruptly intermingled with a hot thread of jealousy that suggested reasons why Sheelagh may have neglected to call it in.

'From what I can gather,' continued Gina after a prolonged silence, 'Sheelagh's assumption last night was that he was out for revenge on her, for grassing him up to the Super. I don't think she credited him with any sentimental attachment, probably because she hasn't got one for him anymore. But she changed her tune this morning when she couldn't get hold of the childminder.'

Sam glanced up sharply. 'Gina, I'm not in the mood for –'

Holding up a hand, Gina said, 'Look, the baby turned up safe and Des seems to be long gone. Is that what you wanna hear?'

'Yes,' she muttered as she squeezed her eyes shut. Blotting out the room while she got her head around all this was proving essential. Whatever the expression on Gina's face was, she knew she didn't like it. Opening her eyes, she questioned, 'Where is she now?'

'Custody,' answered Gina carefully. 'Go easy on her, would you?'

'Of course,' she snapped then grimaced. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to... What's being done to find him?' she asked, putting herself on safer ground.

'I'm trying to grab the Super in a calm moment to discuss it,' Gina said. 'MIT's been told but it's not exactly a concrete lead, lurking in the shadows outside the nick. There's talk she could've imagined it.'

Sam snorted and reached for the door handle. 'She didn't imagine it.'

Her first instinct was, obviously, to glide straight down to custody but she forced herself to stop and divert into the bathroom instead. She needed a minute to ensure her jealous confusion wasn't showing on her face and, to her dismay, she realised it was. She splashed her cheeks with cool water and dabbed them dry, all the while reminding herself that what was important here was Sheelagh and Niamh's safety, not her hurt pride. After all, while she was keeping something as big as her feelings from Sheelagh, how could she expect her to be totally honest with her? It was a barrier between them, just as she'd expected it might be when the truth had first crumbled upon her months ago.

Leaving the bathroom a few minutes later she approached custody with more ease in her step than she thought possible. That held until the two officers hanging around the desk with a prisoner disappeared towards an interview room and Sheelagh was left alone, unaware of her presence and apparently engrossed in her paperwork. It was a good ruse – except for the fact that her eyes weren't moving.

Gingerly, Sam stepped forward. 'Hi.'

Sheelagh obviously deciphered her tone and looked up with trepidation. That was enough to make Sam's irritation fade, even if the first words out of her mouth hadn't been, 'I'm sorry.'

'I don't understand, that's all,' Sam said, leaning forward over the desk. 'Why didn't you call me?'

'You had such a lousy day yesterday,' Sheelagh explained. 'I didn't want to pile any more on your shoulders, I wasn't sure what I'd seen.'

Sam glanced along the corridor before she lowered her voice further. 'You mean you didn't know whether you'd report it.'

'I don't know,' admitted Sheelagh. 'I'm sorry but you were distant yesterday, I thought that...'

When she trailed off Sam suddenly understood. One of the final things she'd said to Sheelagh last night was that she didn't want to bother her with her troubles. That had been a reaction to hearing the word 'darling' slip from Sheelagh's lips again and wanting desperately to yield to the comfort and security it offered. Resisting meant backing off and it seemed that it'd had a direct impact on Sheelagh feeling able to confide in her. She hated the idea that Sheelagh thought her problems were a burden when it was Sam's own emotions that were the issue here.

'Listen to me,' she said finally, 'I don't care how bad a day I'm having, I don't want you feeling like you can't talk to me, okay? Otherwise what am I here for, hmm?'

The tacit acknowledgement that Sheelagh was the reason she was staying in Sun Hill did the trick. After lowering her gaze briefly, Sheelagh met her eye and said, 'I was petrified when I thought he'd taken her this morning but it was just me being silly. Why would he want to? I mean, he's hardly the nappy-changing type, is he?'

'No,' Sam agreed, 'I can't see him taking her, I really can't.'

'Unless...' Sheelagh hesitated and toyed with her pen. 'Maybe he wants to punish me, maybe that's what it's about.'

Sam stilled her anxious movements by covering her hand and squeezing tight. 'I can't see that he wants to punish you, Sheelagh. Besides, punishing you means punishing Niamh. He doesn't know the first thing about looking after a baby but he knows she needs you. Honestly,' she went on, 'I don't know why he's still here unless he wants to be caught. A life on the run isn't much of a life. Either way, I think you're safe. And if you want me to put my money where my mouth is and sleep on your sofa for the next week... I can do that.'

Something flickered across Sheelagh's face, so rapidly that she couldn't get a read on it. 'I may take you up on that,' she said, but Sam knew she wouldn't and her heart sank again at this distance between them. It could've been so different – in another life maybe.

'I'd better get back upstairs,' Sam said after a moment. 'Let me know if you need anything.'

Though Sheelagh nodded, it was as unconvincing as her words. Sam tried not to dwell on the knock their friendship had apparently taken thanks to her trying to shield her secret and smiled wanly as she headed back upstairs.

It took her half an hour to recall that the reason she'd left her desk in the first place was to consult with Gina on the file that she'd accidentally left downstairs. Rolling her eyes at her own idiocy, she left CID once again, finding Gina at her desk and looking more than a little irritated.

'Problem?' Sam queried as she closed the door.

Gina rubbed her eyes and reached for the file. 'Wondered when you'd be back for this.'

'What's wrong?' pressed Sam, even if it wasn't her place anymore. 'Did you speak to the Super?'

'I did,' Gina muttered. 'He's upsetting everyone within a three-mile radius today, said it's Sheelagh's dirty laundry so let her wash it.'

'He said what?' Sam demanded. 'Doesn't he realise she could be in danger? Does he want a kidnap on his conscience or –'

'Simmer down,' cut in Gina with a grimace. 'I've got a headache. I've put across that point of view, robustly, for all the good it did. But he also wasn't too appreciative of me organising Cameron to babysit for her tonight.'

Sam blinked, her anger dissipating under another abrupt bout of confusion. 'Cameron? Why Cameron?'

'Because he's available,' Gina said. Although she shrugged, Sam didn't buy the ease. 'Look, you don't want to spend your night cooped up with a screaming baby, do you? My idea of hell.'

'Niamh knows me,' she argued. 'It would've been a lot –'

'From what I understand,' interjected Gina, flicking through the file in her hands, 'Sheelagh's having a meal with Patrick.'

That shut her up. All of a sudden, Sheelagh's reticence about her offer to camp out and make sure Des didn't come anywhere near them took on a new tinge. It was another one of those moments where, if this was a man she was dealing with, she'd instantly say that it was down to some innate anxiety about the nature of their relationship. After all, mentioning that she was meeting with Patrick to a friend would've solicited nothing but warm hopes about the future. Was the fact that she hadn't wanted to mention it indicative of something deeper, something she wasn't aware of maybe? Certainly, Sam was under no illusions – if Sheelagh had feelings for her that stretched beyond friendship then she hadn't cottoned onto that fact. But, still, there had to be a reason she was holding back. The potential for reuniting with Patrick was a good thing, any friend would be happy about it. Had Sheelagh kept it back because she knew a part of her wouldn't – couldn't – be happy about the prospect of her getting back together with her husband? What other reason could there be?

'Samantha?' Gina said quietly.

Looking up, Sam realised that Gina was holding out the file she'd brought in earlier, a strained expression on her face. She reached out and took it, realising too late that she was visibly trembling. She tried to mask it with a smile, though it felt wooden even as she attempted it.

'Have you looked at this?' she questioned, patting the file.

Gina nodded slowly. 'I made some notes for you. I assume you were having problems with the witness discrepancies?'

'That's right,' she answered. Truth be told, she couldn't remember what on earth she'd been struggling with more than an hour ago when she'd first looked at this case. 'Thanks.'

'You're welcome,' returned Gina, her voice still unusually taut.

Again, Sam tried a smile then turned and left the office with her head held high. Only when she was back at her desk, surrounded by colleagues who knew absolutely nothing of her interior monologues, could she ponder the questions that had been triggered by her two conversations with Gina today.

That she loved Sheelagh was beyond doubt by now. That she was messing things up by trying to keep that under wraps was also not in doubt. However, she'd tried not to think too much about what Sheelagh might be feeling, uncertain where that road may take her. At this point, though, she wondered whether it needed to be discussed. As much as she craved time with Sheelagh and wanted to feel part of her family, she had to accept that she should rightly be on the outside of it. And if she wasn't... Well, what did that mean?

The rest of the day was something of a blur. She got a heap of paperwork done and was sent out to talk to a witness with Rob, much to her irritation. He was intent on gloating about their result yesterday when all she wanted to do was forget it and/or wallop him, so she passed an irritating afternoon in transit with him. She was grateful to get home, though that momentary relief disintegrated when she remembered Abi was out until about ten and she was stuck with the walls closing in until she could distract herself and badger her daughter about school work or friends or whatever else came to mind. In the meantime, she got herself a coffee and put some mindless drivel on the television.

When her mobile rang, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Idly, she looked at the display and considered ignoring it but, ultimately, curiosity got the better of her.

'Gina,' she said as she answered it, 'maybe it escaped your notice but I'm not paid enough for –'

'You need to get to the hospital,' Gina interrupted in a tremulous voice.

Sam's instinct was to rise to her feet. 'What is it? What's happened?' Since no response was forthcoming, she prompted, 'Gina, what the hell's going on?'

'Niamh stopped breathing,' came the weak reply. 'She's in A&E. I don't know anything more than that.'

For a moment it seemed as though the earth had stopped spinning. Then Sam realised she'd stumbled back onto the sofa. 'I'm on my way,' she replied.

The journey to the hospital seemed to take eight times as long as it should've. All the way her mind was revolving on those three words Gina had supplied – 'Niamh stopped breathing'. Stopped breathing. It was every mother's worst nightmare come to life. Sam was reminded of the last cot death case she'd had to death with, the Jameson case that had unmasked her feelings for Sheelagh. Wasn't that ironic? But this wasn't a cot death. No, she had to keep reminding herself of that the closer she got to the hospital. As far as she knew, this could be nothing more than a false alarm. She tried to focus on that but, somehow, her propensity to assume the worst wouldn't disappear. It was miraculous she got to the hospital without ploughing into a truck or a tree.

After rushing into A&E she faltered in the corridor. She didn't know where to go or what she should be looking for, and the thought of asking filled her with dread. So, she hovered by a bank of chairs, trying to steady her breathing.

'Samantha...'

Gina's voice spun her around one hundred and eighty degrees and then she caught sight of the expression on her face and nearly buckled. Groping for the nearest chair, she sat down, her breaths haggard and distant. She wasn't aware of Gina sitting beside her but she must've done, since there was suddenly a hand pressed to her back.

'Breathe,' Gina said quietly.

She didn't realise she was crying until the tears began trickling from her chin. Then she scooped them up with her palm and scrubbed at her eyes. Finally, she blinked at Gina, still hopeful this was all a bad joke, though she knew in her heart it wasn't.

'What happened?' she asked.

'It's all a bit unclear at the moment,' answered Gina, still rubbing her back. 'Cameron checked on her and found she wasn't breathing. He called the ambulance and performed CPR until they arrived. Sheelagh got home and accompanied Niamh here but she was...'

Sam swallowed, picturing that happy little baby unresponsive, imagining Sheelagh's panic and horror as she walked through the door. She dug her fingers into her eyes, trying to claw the images from her brain, to no avail.

'Was it an accident?' she questioned as bile rose in her throat. 'Was someone else involved? Was Des –'

'We don't know,' Gina interrupted. 'Right now, that isn't the important thing.'

The unspoken words propelled her to her feet. 'Where's Sheelagh?'

'Whoa, hang on a minute,' said Gina, standing up and grasping her elbow. 'Look at me. Samantha – look at me.'

Reluctantly, she turned sideways and met Gina's eye. 'What?' she murmured.

'Right, you listen to me,' Gina said firmly. 'You're gonna go into the bathroom and wipe your face. Then you're gonna walk through those doors there,' she went on, pointing across the corridor, 'turn left and go into the relatives' room. You'll be strong for her, because that's what she needs. You understand?'

'Yes,' she said. She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. 'Yes.'

Gina inclined her head. 'Go on then.'

When she looked at herself in the mirror a few minutes later she almost didn't recognise her own reflection. Recalling Gina's words though, she yanked out a few paper towels, cleansing the tear stains from her face with tepid water and smoothing back her hair. She still didn't look anything like DS Samantha Nixon but she doubted she was going to reach that level of professionalism for quite some time. At least she wasn't visibly shaking – she held her hand out to be sure before she left the bathroom.

The relatives' room was empty apart from one solitary person sat to the right of the door. Sam steeled herself then turned the handle and crossed the threshold, feeling the grief in the room wash over her. Quietly, she closed the door then sat down on the sofa beside Sheelagh's motionless figure.

She didn't know what to do. Though she tried searching her memory, she couldn't recall what she'd done in similar situations for other – other victims. A roll of nausea swept over her. She hated thinking of Sheelagh as a victim and she couldn't begin to comprehend that Niamh was dead in this hospital somewhere. So, instead of speaking, she just sat still on the sofa, watching Sheelagh's bowed head and hoping for some sign about what the hell she was meant to do for her. She wasn't even sure Sheelagh had noted her presence until a hand groped blindly for hers all of a sudden.

'Sam...'

'I've got you,' she murmured as Sheelagh crumpled into her arms. 'I'm here.'

She had no idea how long they sat there, Sheelagh's tears soaking through her shirt as she held her tight. Although she was aware she was talking, Sam didn't know what she was saying, uttering words and phrases at random that somehow seemed to be soothing Sheelagh, if she was actually aware of them at all. With Sheelagh's shuddering head tucked under her chin, she could at least allow her own tears to fall into her hair. She couldn't comprehend how much pain Sheelagh was experiencing at the moment, she couldn't even get close. But she did know how shattered she was feeling herself, how she longed to do anything that would make this go away. Squeezing her eyes shut, she pressed a kiss to Sheelagh's head and held onto her until neither of them could breathe.

They were drawn apart by the door opening. Sheelagh's eyes dipped immediately, as though as she was embarrassed. Sam, though, forced herself to stand up to greet the doctor who entered, shaking his hand with the self-possession that had apparently prompted Gina to joke that she had a 'heart of ice'. Be strong; that's what Gina had told her to do and she was damn well going to follow the order.

'Are you a friend of Mrs Murphy's?' the doctor questioned.

'Yes, Samantha Nixon, we – we work together.'

He nodded then glanced past her. 'Mrs Murphy, are you ready yet?'

When Sheelagh made no sign that she'd heard him, Sam asked, 'Ready for what?'

'To see Niamh,' the doctor explained simply.

Looking over at Sheelagh, Sam felt her composure slip again then battled to keep herself steady. She knew that Sheelagh needed to see Niamh now, to start believing it and accepting it before she detached herself from the reality of the situation. If she didn't see her, she'd regret it. An unexplained death like this would take Niamh's body from her for days; that was a long time to torment yourself trying to recall a detail like the shape of a fingernail or the length of an eyelash. Sheelagh needed to do this.

Sam held up a finger to the doctor who retreated to the threshold, decently keeping his head bowed. Beyond him Gina hovered, forehead creased and cheeks pale. Ignoring them both, Sam kneeled in front of Sheelagh, reaching out and clasping her hands over Sheelagh's trembling ones.

'Okay, listen to me, sweetheart,' she said softly. 'I know you don't want to do this, I know that. And I won't drag you in there if you really feel you can't do it but I – I think that you should. Now,' she continued, eyes flicking to the doctor for confirmation, 'I can come with you or I can stay here and –'

'No,' Sheelagh interjected, her voice hoarse. Raising her chin, her eyes sparkled with fresh tears. 'Come with me,' she whispered.

'Course,' Sam said instantly. 'Shall we do it now? Shall we go now?'

Hesitantly, Sheelagh inclined her head. Sam smiled as best she could as she drew herself to her feet. Then she reached down and offered her hand. It took a few moments but when Sheelagh finally took it Sam leaned forward and helped her stand. The first step had to be Sheelagh's but she could carry her the rest of the way if necessary.

Perhaps Gina was still lingering somewhere outside the room but Sam didn't see her. She was completely focused on guiding Sheelagh's steps along the corridor and keeping an eye on where the doctor was leading them. Her brain told her that Sheelagh must be heavy against her shoulder but she couldn't feel the weight. It was almost like she was disembodied, floating above this horrific nightmare but not part of it. That may have been her subconscious way of getting through it in order to keep Sheelagh on her feet. Be strong, Gina had told her to be strong.

The doctor led them to a small room and opened the door. Sam appreciated the fact that he didn't step inside, nor did he prompt them to. Instead, he backed right off and absorbed himself in a poster a few metres away that he must've read a thousand times.

Sam massaged circles into Sheelagh's back but didn't say anything. Once more, this had to be her choice. Finally, Sheelagh took a shuddering breath and crossed the threshold, stretching back for Sam's hand. As she caught sight of the tiny figure on the bed, Sam's throat constricted and it cost her a lot to stem her torrent of tears. Instead, she focused on the pressure of Sheelagh's fingers around her own and reminded herself to concentrate on what she needed in this moment.

Niamh looked so peaceful, like a doll put out on display like some sort of sick prank. Sheelagh stretched out a quivering arm and brushed her daughter's cheek with her thumb then stared at her as if she was trying to commit every inch of skin to memory. After a couple of minutes, she turned purposely away, her shoulders rigid and eyes low.

'I want to see her room,' she muttered. 'I want to see where it happened.'

Sam nodded. 'I'll drive you there now.'

Sheelagh slipped through the door, pulling her along by their joined hands. They walked straight past the doctor without a word, though Sam mouthed a word of thanks. He just nodded, probably sensing that Sheelagh needed to follow her own path right now. That was the philosophy Sam was adopting and she prayed it was the right one.

By necessity, Sheelagh slowed as they walked out into the icy winter evening. Sam took the lead, holding fast to her hand as she steered her towards where she'd haphazardly parked. There was a parking ticket on the windscreen but she tugged it free and buried it in her pocket, suspecting – or hoping – that Sheelagh was too lost in her own thoughts to notice it. The brief moment it took her to unlock the car had brought Sheelagh to an immovable halt and it was down to Sam to pull open the door and put a hand on her spine to urge her into the passenger seat. It was like moving a puppet into position. As she'd done once before, she leaned across Sheelagh and fastened her seatbelt, smelling stale tears and undeniable grief as she clicked it into place. She drew back and gently closed the door then screwed her eyes shut and tried to control the grief percolating in her own chest. It took a gargantuan effort for her to walk around to the driver's side and get into the car as though she was feeling nothing out of the ordinary.

The drive seemed to take forever and no time at all. Sheelagh's eyes were fixed unseeing on the cars flitting past in the opposite direction, her hands clumped in her lap. Sam glanced sideways several times during the journey but she was almost relieved that Sheelagh's attention was elsewhere. She needed this silence to prepare herself for whatever Sheelagh needed from her in the hours to come.

Suddenly, when the house came into view, Sheelagh sat up straighter. There was no question of why: the street was full of police and SOCO cars. For whatever reason, it had completely slipped Sam's mind that all this would be to come and, judging from the disgust on Sheelagh's face, it hadn't occurred to her either.

Before Sam had even stopped the car, Sheelagh was on the pavement. Rapidly untangling herself from her own seatbelt, Sam hurried to follow her. Sheelagh had barrelled through the front door before she made it to the threshold and was rushing up the stairs.

Eva was standing awkwardly in the lower hallway. 'Sheelagh...' she murmured but she was already gone.

Sam barely spared a look for Eva, though she was aware of her on her heels as she followed Sheelagh up to the nursery. She was dismayed to see SOCO already in there, bagging up the contents of the room Niamh had spent so little time in. It would drive any mother to anger and she could fully understand Sheelagh's fury under the circumstances. Sam leaned against the wall, trapping her hands behind her back and feeling the pain cruise down to her fingertips.

'What are you doing?' Sheelagh demanded while SOCO shifted around uncomfortably.

'Sheelagh!' Eva repeated.

She glanced to Sam, hoping for some support maybe but she couldn't offer it. She was sickened by this rampant disregard for Sheelagh's feelings, the callous way SOCO had been invited into the house without so much as a phone call. This scene wasn't going to be disturbed – there was no one here. There was nothing to be gained by stampeding over a police officer's grief but some modicum of comfort might've been offered if they'd had the sense to wait. As it was, Sam wanted to wring a neck – and she had a fair idea whose neck she was going to want to wring.

'Who authorised this?' Sheelagh asked Eva.

After gesturing for SOCO to exit, Eva replied, 'Sheelagh, I'm so sorry but we need to treat this as a crime scene –'

'Who reported it?' she interjected.

'You know we do,' continued Eva firmly. 'It was a dispatcher at first then Cameron phoned it in from St. Hughes.'

'It's a bit quick of him,' Sheelagh spat.

Eva winced. 'Sarge, he did the right thing.'

'Who is he to decide this is a sudden infant death?' questioned Sheelagh.

Her shoulders were shuddering with rage. Sam pushed off from the wall and approached, resting both hands on her shoulders, though Sheelagh barely seemed to comprehend her touch. The fury rolling from her in waves was almost a relief – Sam knew that Sheelagh needed to feel something right now or she'd cave in on herself. Anger was preferable to grief, at least for the moment.

'He just told us what happened,' said Eva.

'Who's in charge?' Sheelagh pressed.

Reluctantly, Eva answered, 'DI Manson.'

'Where is he?' she demanded.

'Downstairs taking a statement,' Eva replied. Before the words were out of her mouth, Sheelagh had slipped both from Sam's grasp and the room, careering down the stairs with only one purpose evident in her mind – getting to Manson. 'Sheelagh!' Eva called, taking off after her.

Sam hesitated, only for a fraction of a second. It was just long enough for her to look into the empty cot and recall lifting Niamh from it on New Year's Day, carrying her down to the kitchen and dancing around with her. The memory sliced through her then she remembered Sheelagh and rushed down to the living room. Sheelagh and Eva were blocking the doorway but she could just see Manson in there with a PC taking notes and Cameron slumped in the armchair.

'I'd like to sit in if I may, Guv,' Sheelagh was saying.

Manson rose to his feet. 'I don't think that's a good idea.'

'Why not?' Sheelagh queried coolly.

'Because it might inhibit what Cameron feels he can say and what I feel I can ask,' Manson explained.

Despite the logic of that, Sam couldn't accept the argument. It was still too soon as far as she was concerned – this wasn't how you treated a colleague. However, for the first time she immensely appreciated no longer being DI. If she'd been forced to attend this incident as an investigating officer, she would've crumbled on the spot.

Sheelagh wasn't to be derailed, unsurprisingly enough. 'Have you asked him about the heating?' she questioned. 'It was hot when I came home – unusually hot.' She glanced to her left. 'Why was that, Cameron?'

'It's Sheelagh, isn't it?' Manson asked after a moment, almost compassionately. 'I'll get the chance to go over what you can tell us in a few minutes but right now I need to finish up with Cameron, okay?'

Suddenly, Sheelagh seemed to lose herself again. She looked around the room and faltered. Perhaps she was picturing, as Sam herself was, the time spent with Niamh in here, the beauty of those minutes together and how no more were to come. She swivelled and fled the room, brushing past Sam with fresh tears in her eyes. Before she could follow, she was stopped by Neil.

'What are you doing here, Samantha?' he queried.

She bristled at the question and stepped forward, intent on venting her anger on the first available outlet when Eva grabbed at her elbow and pulled her back.

'Sam and Sheelagh are good friends, Guv,' Eva explained. 'She's not here in a professional capacity.'

'That's right,' Sam added, crossing her arms and glaring at him. 'I'm assuming CID officers are still allowed to have friends or have I missed a memo?'

'I'll overlook that,' Manson muttered.

Eva touched her arm. 'Come on, Sarge. Sheelagh needs you, yeah?'

Between that and her desire to pummel Neil Manson into a heap, the former won out. She allowed Eva to steer her out of the room and they located Sheelagh just outside of the door, eyes closed as though she was trying to rid herself of this nightmare. Looking at her, Sam felt helpless again. She wanted to help but she didn't know how.

Instead, it was Eva who stepped forward. 'You know this is how it works,' she said.

'She's my daughter, Eva,' Sheelagh retorted. 'I should be allowed to hear what happened. I mean, I've every right to hear what happened.'

'Of course, of course,' said Eva. She stretched out and tried to rub Sheelagh's arms but she wrenched away and disappeared into the darkness of the kitchen. Sighing, Eva looked back to Sam who was slumped against the banister, watching SOCO officers climb the stairs once more. 'Are you okay?'

Sam blinked away her sudden tears and tried to straighten up. 'It doesn't matter if I'm all right.'

'Course it does,' Eva argued. 'I know you've spent time with Niamh, you must be in shock.'

'No,' she answered firmly then she levelled her gaze on Eva. 'You make sure that he does this properly, do you hear? No more upset than's necessary. She's been through enough.'

'I agree,' said Eva, 'but, really, Sam, you must be –'

'I'm fine,' she cut in.

Eva fell back. 'I know you are, Sarge. I know.'

At the moment all she had was this facade. She couldn't meet Eva's eye but did manage to pat her arm as she slipped past to search for Sheelagh. Although she knew Eva was trying to help, Sam wasn't the one who needed her sympathy. However, catching sight of Sheelagh silhouetted in the window, she hung back. There was nothing she could say, no comfort she could offer. Pressing her shoulder into the door frame, she focused on the pain shooting up and down her arm.

She stood guard like a sentry, vaguely aware of Eva joining the interview with Cameron but otherwise deaf to the sound of desecration going on upstairs. She stared at Sheelagh's immobile form in the darkness, just trying to provide a buffer between her and the investigation going on in the rest of the house. What else could she do?

Finally, Eva showed Cameron out into the street. Sam didn't look at him – she couldn't – but when Eva touched her shoulder, she knew it was time for Sheelagh to be questioned. She held up a hand to Eva, indicating she'd deal with this and gingerly stepped into the gloom of the kitchen.

'Sheelagh?' she murmured.

When she spun around from the window it was impossible to make out any features of her face. 'My turn, is it?' she questioned, her voice taut with pain.

'Yeah,' Sam answered. 'If you want, I'll come in with you.'

Sheelagh stepped towards her, almost mechanically. 'Yes.'

Although Sam's instincts were to attempt to physically comfort Sheelagh as she passed, she refrained. That would make her feel better – feeling as if she was doing something – but it wouldn't necessarily help Sheelagh. She could see in her poise that she was geared up for a fight. It was exactly the way Sam would approach such an interview with the DI and she followed her lead as she accompanied her into the living room.

Manson was prowling around, looking at family photographs and trying to assess the scene. He barely controlled his scowl as he saw her enter. 'Why don't you wait outside?' he suggested.

'I want her to stay,' Sheelagh insisted. 'There's no law against it, is there?'

'You know there isn't,' Manson said after a moment. 'Please, take a seat, both of you.'

Sheelagh shot him a disparaging glare and he seemed to realise the folly of asking a woman to sit down in her own home when neither of them took him up on the offer, though he did himself. He conversed quietly with the PC still on the sofa while Sam eyed Sheelagh carefully. Off to the side, Eva shifted uncomfortably.

Finally, Manson said, 'I understand this is a difficult time for you, I'm sorry for your loss.'

There was a prolonged silence where Sheelagh just stared at him incredulously. Sam wondered if grieving families looked at her with that expression of disgust but, then, she suspected Sheelagh had an instinctive animosity to DI Manson brought on from Sam's own distaste for him. However, the business-like look that was barely masked by false sympathy was enough to bring anyone to the conclusion that he was a compassionless excuse for a human being and Sam hated him all the more in that instant.

'So I just need to ask you a few preliminary questions,' Manson said. 'I'll keep it as brief as I can. Where were you this evening?' he queried carefully.

Sheelagh's shoulders stiffened. 'I was having a meal with my husband.'

'Right,' Manson said slowly. 'Where is he? We'll need to speak to him.'

When Sheelagh glanced over her shoulder helplessly, Sam stepped forward and cleared her throat. 'Patrick isn't the father of the baby, Guv. It wouldn't help to interview him, unless it gets to the point where you think you need alibis.'

Her implied warning to leave the matter alone struck home somehow. He glanced to the PC to ensure she was noting all this down then asked, 'And did you notice anything unusual about Niamh when you left the house?'

Sheelagh crossed her arms. 'I've barely left her before. Yesterday was my first day back at work, it was the...' She trailed off and stared down at the carpet. 'It was the first time I've left her for any length of time.'

'Okay,' said Manson, 'yet you decided to go out this evening.'

Sam felt the injustice of the enquiry as much as Sheelagh did. She would've argued with it had she not caught Eva's eye and received a stern warning in response. As much as it pained her, she had to let Sheelagh deal with this as much as possible.

'My marriage has been under considerable strain,' Sheelagh said finally, in a tone that made Sam both proud and apprehensive at the same time. 'I took the opportunity to meet Patrick, to try and save my marriage.'

Manson nodded sagely. 'So would you agree that Niamh's arrival has been a problem for you?'

Sheelagh almost reared up and this time Sam couldn't countenance keeping back. She stretched out to Sheelagh's arm as she said, 'There was no problem. Niamh is – was a happy child, completely loved and comfortable as the numerous officers who saw her the other day at the station would attest to. She wanted for nothing. There was no resentment or anything else that you're implying. Guv,' she added as a mark of respect that she didn't feel.

Though it seemed as if Manson had swallowed a lemon, he nodded. 'Just something we needed to establish,' he said. 'Why was Cameron babysitting? Are you good friends with him?'

'No,' Sheelagh said. 'It was Inspector Gold's idea when she heard I needed someone.'

'That's a little unconventional, isn't it?' Manson questioned. 'Uniform inspector supplying babysitters.'

'What of it?' shot back Sheelagh.

He glanced around the room. 'I'm just wondering why you didn't ask one of your own friends.'

'Oh, the ones who think I'm a horrible person for having an affair and breaking my husband's heart?' Sheelagh stared at him furiously. 'Are you serious?'

Manson cleared his throat and gestured to Sam. 'You've obviously still got some friends.'

Sheelagh's body visibly deflated again. When she hesitantly looked over Sam couldn't tell if she was suddenly questioning her own motives for not asking her to babysit Niamh tonight, whether she realised there might be something beyond friendship behind it. Either way, it was a web she certainly didn't need to untangle right this minute.

'Guv,' Sam said carefully, 'is this relevant?'

He held her gaze then shifted his attention back to Sheelagh. 'What about tonight, Sheelagh? What did you see when you got home?'

'I saw the ambulance first,' she muttered. 'I came inside, I climbed the stairs and... I saw Niamh on the floor with Cameron and a paramedic.'

The simple description of the night's events crumpled over Sam and she struggled to maintain her composure. She wanted to envelope Sheelagh in her arms, shield her from having to relive this again, not that it could make it any better in real terms. This was a nightmare, a living nightmare.

'I've just got a few more questions,' Manson said after a brief pause. 'Has she been off her food or shown any other signs of being unwell?'

Now Sheelagh paced across the carpet, the room reverberating with every step. 'No.'

'What's Niamh's normal sleeping position?' Manson questioned.

'I make sure she sleeps on her back,' Sheelagh answered, drawing to a halt. 'Like you're supposed to.'

'Well, I think that's it for now,' said Manson as he rose.

'Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?' Eva asked. 'It's best you're not on your own and you have some more people around you.'

'And the scene has to be preserved,' Sheelagh said bitterly.

'She's coming home with me,' put in Sam, leaving no room for debate from any of them. 'She'll need some clothes, Eva. Could you help her sort that out please?'

If Manson suddenly thought she was taking over, he didn't mention it. Eva made an attempt to guide Sheelagh from the room but she hung back, eyes fixed on Sam.

'Aren't you coming?' she asked.

Her chest stung at the pure desperation oozing from Sheelagh's voice. For the moment she didn't care what Manson thought of her. She turned and rested a hand on her cheek, trying to infuse her own voice with an authority she didn't feel.

'I just need a minute,' she said firmly. 'I promise I'll be right behind you, okay?'

Sheelagh slowly inclined her head then swung back to the door. After meeting her gaze momentarily, Eva followed her out of the room, pulling the door shut.

'Sorry,' Manson said, 'I didn't realise.'

'Realise what?' Sam questioned coldly.

'That you and Sheelagh were such good friends,' he answered after a few seconds.

'Why would you?' she retorted. 'You've only been at Sun Hill a few weeks.'

'Fair point,' he said.

Glancing over her shoulder to check the door was closed, she said, 'I'd like to be assigned as Sheelagh's FLO.'

Manson crossed his arms. 'I don't think that's necessary. An officer of Sheelagh's experience doesn't need a Family Liaison Officer.'

'That's not the point, Guv, and you know it,' she said.

'Okay,' he conceded, 'but it's not a job for a detective sergeant. I need your talents elsewhere.'

If he meant that as a compliment, it completely slid past. 'With respect, Guv,' she replied, 'Sheelagh's a very popular officer. You'd be hard-pressed to find someone at Sun Hill who doesn't hold her in high regard, especially the likes of Inspector Gold and DCI Meadows.'

'Fine,' he said shortly, though she could see that her inference had nettled him, 'then uniform can supply an appropriate officer. June Ackland perhaps.'

'Listen,' Sam murmured, 'I've held that baby, I've changed her, I've fed her, I've – I've rocked her to sleep. I even brought her home from the hospital. I need to do this,' she added, clenching her hands behind her back. 'Sheelagh needs me to do this.'

He was staring at her in that inscrutable manner of his. 'All you've done, Samantha, is give me a list of reasons to keep you well away from this case.'

'Do you think I'd be any use to you in CID?' she retorted. 'I'll take unpaid leave if I have to. Let me do this, Guv. Please,' she concluded.

Finally, he sighed and stepped past her towards the door. 'You've got some leave owing,' he said. 'Take a week. We'll review the situation then.'

'Thank you,' she answered. 'Thank you.'

From the way his shoulders set as he left, she didn't get the feeling he was doing this out of the goodness of his heart – if he had one. No, her veiled conclusions about the station thinking badly of him if he treated Sheelagh with any sort of disrespect had struck home. At another time she might marvel on the fact that all he cared about when dealing with such a case was his own reputation but at the moment she was grateful she'd managed to play on it.

Alone, Sam absorbed the silence of the room. Even though SOCO were still upstairs and there were numerous officers hanging around, the lack of Niamh sliced into her. She thought she could hear her crying and even automatically glanced towards the baby monitor until she remembered then lowered her head and allowed her grief to absorb her for just a minute. All the castles she'd built in the sky in the last couple of weeks had revolved around that baby. When she'd thought of her future that little girl had been part of it. And now...

'Sarge?' Eva said quietly.

She spun around, uncertain of what emotions were playing out on her face. 'Yes?'

'Sheelagh's ready to go,' Eva explained. 'She's waiting outside.'

'Thanks,' Sam said. Before she could move past, however, Eva rested a hand on her arm. 'What?' she asked.

Sighing, Eva muttered, 'If you ever wanna talk about it –'

'Talk about what?' she interrupted, voice wavering.

'Nothing,' answered Eva. 'Nothing, Sarge.'

Without another word, she left the room, ignoring the gnawing in her stomach that accompanied her to the door and out on the path. It was bitterly cold out here, though Sheelagh didn't seem to feel it. She was in a fleece now but it was unzipped, the bag at her feet slumped onto the grass. Sam stepped forward and collected it, hooking her free arm around Sheelagh's shoulders and leading her back to the car. This time Sheelagh tugged on her own seatbelt and, despite the fact it took a few attempts for her to plug it in, Sam felt inordinately proud of her for managing it.

The journey to her house was made in silence. Sheelagh seemed blank, staring into space with nothing apparently permeating her mind; not that Sam believed that for an instant. Her instinctive knowledge of Sheelagh told her that, while earlier she had been in shock, now she was thinking. If there was any way Sam could've stopped her – up to and including knocking her unconscious – she would've taken it in a heartbeat.

Drawing to a halt outside her home, Sam checked her watch. It was past two somehow. She couldn't even recall the mundane details of her evening before Gina had called. Time had stopped, life had altered. Staring into the gloom of the street, illuminated by the streetlamps but otherwise completely desolate, she suddenly felt as if she was in a dream. Then Sheelagh mechanically unplugged her seatbelt. As the click ricocheted around the car Sam shook herself and slipped out of the car. She walked around to the passenger side and stretched out a hand to help Sheelagh up. Arm-in-arm, they made their way into the house, bypassing the comfort of the living room for the stiff chairs of the kitchen in unspoken agreement. The light was still on and Sam saw the remnants of her dinner in a bowl beside the sink. She itched to tidy it up but refrained. Then Sheelagh crossed the room and began running boiling water into the washing-up bowl. Sam slumped against the wall and watched, helpless to stop her, even if she'd thought it was the right course of action.

Washing-up done, Sheelagh seemed to lose some of her purpose. She turned around, shuddering on the spot, and Sam swept forward, gathering her up for a minute. Sheelagh quivered but no more tears came. Drawing back, Sam pressed both hands against her cheeks and kissed her forehead. That opened the floodgates. Abruptly, Sheelagh was weeping again and Sam dragged her into a hug, allowing her own tears to flow freely. She didn't know how long they stood there but her cheeks dried and her legs grew numb.

Eventually, Sheelagh detached herself and groped for the table. Sam yanked a chair out and made sure she sat down before hovering aimlessly beside her. She didn't know what to do.

'I don't understand,' Sheelagh said suddenly.

Briefly, Sam squeezed her eyes shut then sat down. 'I know.'

'When I left, she was fine,' continued Sheelagh, twisting her hands in knots. Sam watched but didn't attempt to still the jolting movements. 'I swear she was.'

'I know that,' Sam said firmly but Sheelagh didn't seem to hear her.

'She was asleep,' she went on. 'I'd checked on her but... I'd only been home from work for an hour or so. It was barely time to feed her, barely time for her to notice I was there at all. What if she didn't? What if –'

'She knew,' murmured Sam. 'This wasn't your fault.'

Sheelagh's brow creased. 'You can't say that.'

Tentatively, Sam reached over and gripped one of her juddering hands. 'Yes. I can.'

After looking deep into her eyes for one excruciating moment, Sheelagh bowed her head and looked at the table. Her fidgeting gradually ceased, though she clung onto Sam's hand as the silence settled around them.

If she was asked later to explain how they passed that night, Sam wouldn't be able to do it. For the longest time they sat there at the table, not speaking, barely even looking at each other. Finally, Sam was forced to excuse herself to use the bathroom. She climbed the stairs carefully, taking a minute to peek through Abi's door before continuing to the bathroom. When she returned to the kitchen, she was carrying a thick blanket that she'd retrieved from her bed, realising suddenly how cold it was.

'Here,' she said, wrapping it around Sheelagh's shoulders and stifling her yawn.

Blinking at her, Sheelagh tugged the blanket under her chin. 'Go to bed. I'll be okay.'

'No chance,' she answered. 'Tea or coffee?'

One cup of coffee turned into three and then a look at the clock told Sam that it was past seven. The realisation that Abi would be up shortly brought her back to earth with a bump. Along with that, the other practicalities began to creep into her mind. Perhaps they hadn't occurred to Sheelagh – all the more reason why she should take charge.

'Listen,' she said, 'I think I'd better call Patrick. He'll need to tell the kids.'

Sheelagh flinched. 'I should do it,' she murmured.

Her tone plainly demonstrated that she didn't want to and, really, why would she under the circumstances? Sam stood up and rested a hand on her shoulder. 'Let me do it,' she said.

Eventually, Sheelagh nodded and gestured limply to her handbag abandoned by the table leg. 'His mobile number's in my phone.'

'Okay,' Sam replied, kissing her head.

Maybe it was reality biting but Sheelagh rose tremulously, taking their numerous cups over to the sink and running hot water into the bowl. It thundered into the kitchen, startling Sam who had become too used to the silence. Leaning down, she dug into Sheelagh's handbag and found her mobile. Then she collected the home phone from the hallway and went back into the kitchen. Though Sheelagh's back was to her as she washed the cups, Sam was under no illusions that she was paying full attention.

Patrick answered on the eighth ring, his voice crusty with sleep. 'Hello?'

'Hello, Patrick,' she began, 'this is, erm, DS Samantha Nixon, we met –'

'I remember,' he cut in, abruptly sounding more awake. 'What is it? What's wrong? Has there been an accident?'

With her eyes fixed firmly on Sheelagh's shoulders, she replied, 'I'm afraid Niamh died last night.'

The silence on the other end of the phone stretched but, really, Sam barely noticed it. Her words had caused Sheelagh to drop a cup against the counter and it shattered, splintering across the floor. Immediately, Sam jumped forward, grabbing her arm and holding her back from kneeling to clear it up. The fragments were sharp and Sam guided her hand away from the biggest piece but stopped short of ushering her back to the table. Instead, they just stood in the middle of the kitchen, Sam with the phone pressed to her ear and Sheelagh heavy against her other shoulder.

'I don't...' Patrick murmured finally. 'Is Sheelagh okay? Should I come over?'

'She's at my house at the moment,' Sam said.

'Well – well, give me the address, I'll be right there.'

'No, I...' Glancing at the figure leaning against her, she lied, 'I persuaded her to sleep for a little while. I don't want to disturb her.'

Sheelagh's head slowly lifted, gratitude evident in her eyes. Sam was just relieved she'd made the right call and that Sheelagh really could do without Patrick's sympathy right now, sympathy that must be tinged with something else, however good a man he was.

'What should I do?' Patrick asked after another prolonged silence.

'It'd really help Sheelagh if you could tell the kids,' she answered.

'Sure, sure,' he said. 'Will you tell her that I...'

'I will,' she promised. 'I'll ask her to call you when she wakes up.'

Patrick muttered a goodbye and Sam slid the phone onto the table. Then she wrapped her arms around Sheelagh and held her close for a long minute. She withdrew when she heard creaks above their heads and realised that Abi was awake. Sheelagh stiffened and Sam tried to smile.

'It's okay,' she said firmly. 'I'll talk to her. In the meantime,' she added, 'when you insist on picking up that cup, please be careful. There's a dustpan and brush in the cupboard on the left.'

Sheelagh nodded, taking a steadying breath as she moved back to the sink. Sam didn't linger, knowing she needed to catch Abi before she went in the shower or she wouldn't be able to get through the conversation at all. Not having time to plan the words was almost a good thing. It meant that when she walked into Abi's room and found her listening to the radio, she couldn't second-guess herself.

Looking up, Abi's face creased with alarm and she instantly switched the radio off. 'Mum, what is it?'

'Sit down, sweetheart,' Sam instructed, taking a seat beside her on the bed and reaching for her hand. 'I'm afraid I've got some bad news. Sheelagh's downstairs because... Niamh was taken to hospital last night and she – she died.'

Abi trembled and blinked furiously. 'But... No. No, she can't have. Mum, she can't have.'

When a tear dribbled down Abi's cheek, Sam swept it up with her finger, aware that she was perilously close to crying again herself. She swallowed down her pain and answered, 'I know it doesn't seem real, darling. It doesn't feel real to me either, I'm having a hard time taking it in.'

For a few moments Abi closed her eyes then opened them again and scrubbed away her tears with the heel of her free hand. 'What happened? Did she have an accident or something?'

'No,' Sam said, 'but we don't know exactly what happened yet. It'll take a couple of days.'

'How's Sheelagh?' Abi questioned.

'Deeply confused,' she said honestly. 'I don't think she's absorbed it yet and who can blame her? Listen, you'd be doing me a real favour if you got some breakfast on the way to school. I'll leave some money on the hall table. Is that okay?'

'I don't think I could see her,' admitted Abi.

'There's no shame in that,' Sam replied. Struck by a sudden urge, she drew her daughter into a hug, losing control of her own emotions as Abi crumpled into her arms. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes until Abi pulled away. 'Go on, sweetheart. Have your shower and get to school, okay?'

Though Abi murmured that she would, she hadn't moved by the time Sam left the room. At the top of the stairs, Sam took a moment to gather herself together before walking back down to the kitchen. She found that Sheelagh had moved on from clearing the cup up and was instead mopping the floor with soapy water.

'Hey, that's going a bit too far,' Sam pointed out.

Sheelagh looked around. In the few minutes since Sam had disappeared to talk to Abi she seemed to have developed a purpose. Her energy belied her lack of sleep as she swept the mop across the floor and plunged it into the bucket.

'I wanted to keep busy until we go into work,' she explained.

Sam frowned. 'Why are we –'

'I need to see Cameron's statement,' Sheelagh cut in. 'I need to know what happened, if someone could've got in. I need to know.'

Given her combative stance, Sam wasn't inclined to argue. Whatever Sheelagh wanted right now, she was going to ensure she got. Seeing Cameron's statement was entirely reasonable under the circumstances and if he didn't allow it then they could rightly assume he thought he had something to hide. Though her brain was fogged by fatigue, her natural instincts weren't flashing up any red flags. She trusted Cameron. As far as Niamh was concerned, she trusted Des too. No one who'd seen him with Di Worrell's little boy could suppose he'd ever hurt a child, let alone his own. No, thinking about it in logical terms for the first time, she couldn't imagine this was anything other than a health condition or an unexplained death.

'Okay,' she said finally. 'You try and keep busy until we leave and I'll make another coffee to keep us both going. How's that sound?'

'Thank you,' Sheelagh murmured. 'I'm sorry about the cup.'

Sam waved that away and put the kettle on. As Sheelagh continued mopping the floor, she floated around preparing coffee and toast. Although she didn't expect Sheelagh to eat a bite, she was determined to at least offer it. While the kettle was boiling, she nipped through to the hall and deposited a five-pound note for Abi on the table then listened for a moment. The shower was running now, even if the whole house did still feel shrouded in gloom.

Twenty minutes later she and Sheelagh were sat with the cold toast between them when the front door banged. Sheelagh nearly jumped out of her seat then clasped her hands tight on the table top. Sam didn't have the heart to keep her here much longer. In her shoes, she'd be itching to do something, even if it was nonsensical. Now the shock of the early hours had worn off, Sheelagh had to do something and trying to identify a 'why' was eminently understandable.

'Okay,' Sam said carefully, 'I'm going to freshen up then we can go into the nick. One bite of toast and I'll let you out of the house. Deal?'

'Deal,' echoed Sheelagh.

Standing, Sam deliberately didn't linger or reach out. She wanted Sheelagh to know that she trusted her to take this at her own pace. In essence, she was trying to treat Sheelagh with the same level of care that she knew would be offered if the situation was reversed. While she knew she couldn't be half the help that Sheelagh would be, she at least wanted to do what she could. Instinct told her that a little control for Sheelagh at the moment would be welcome.

Sure enough, when she returned five minutes later the woman who greeted her was neither the grief-stricken zombie nor the woman on a mission to distract herself. She had assembled some sort of mask that Sam herself would've been proud of.

'Ready?' she queried.

Sheelagh inhaled deeply then extended her hand. Sam took it, grateful for the fact that Sheelagh wasn't including her in the list of people she wanted to fool, and led her slowly from the house, all the while feeling as if she was living someone else's life. That was the fatigue talking, of course; along with the fervent hope that they were all going to wake up from this nightmare.

By the time they reached the station Sheelagh looked battle-ready. Sam admired her outward resilience and made sure that she didn't mollycoddle her as they crossed the road and went in through the yard. Several officers made an attempt to stop them with condolences but Sheelagh just walked straight past them and Sam took her lead from her.

Once inside, she let Sheelagh decide where she wanted to go. Her original purpose in coming here may have been to find Cameron but she doubted she'd leave without checking on the investigation. Sam certainly wouldn't in her shoes. However, all progress was abruptly halted by Gina blocking their path.

'Sheelagh?' she asked. 'What are you doing here? Look, I'm so sorry.'

Sheelagh held up a hand to stem the sympathy. 'Is Cameron here?'

After exchanging a brief glance with Sam, Gina answered, 'I told him to stay at home.'

'Do you have his statement?' queried Sheelagh. 'I'd like to see it.'

'Oh, I don't know,' Gina said carefully.

'You don't know if he's done it or if I can see it?' Sheelagh pressed.

'If he's done it,' replied Gina. 'And, look, whether you can see it or not is between you and Cameron.'

With a curt nod, Sheelagh sidestepped her and continued along the corridor. Sam hadn't a clue where she was going but let out the breath she didn't know she was holding when she turned into the locker room. That gave her a minute to slump against the wall and become aware of Gina's eyes on her.

'How's she holding up?' questioned Gina.

'Didn't sleep,' she muttered. 'Didn't expect her to.'

'I heard you've taken yourself off on leave,' Gina probed after a moment.

Sam pushed off from the wall, testing the strength of her legs. 'What am I meant to do, hmm? She needs me.'

'Oi, I'm not criticising,' said Gina, shaking her head. 'The DI didn't seem too happy about it, that's all.'

'Oh, Gina, I couldn't care less,' she answered.

'You know, I do believe you mean that.'

With that, Gina patted her arm and carried on along her way. Sam watched after her, a little perturbed, then shook herself and followed Sheelagh into the locker room. She found her alone, sat on the bench with a book on her lap. Sam recognised it as a photo album then, with a jolt, she saw that the bracelet she'd bought Sheelagh was threaded into it like a bookmark.

Gingerly, Sam sat down beside her. She took the album from her hands and opened it, catching the bracelet before it fell. After resting the open album back on Sheelagh's knee, Sam raised her friend's left arm, sliding it across onto her own lap while she fastened the bracelet around her wrist. When she glanced up there was a look on Sheelagh's face that Sam couldn't place, nor did she want to try too hard. Sheelagh nestled into her arms and Sam pressed a kiss to her temple. On another day she'd think this was playing with fire, both for the prospect of Sheelagh working out – or at least acknowledging – her feelings and other officers wandering in. Today, though, she couldn't give a damn. She had to be what Sheelagh needed right now and she certainly wasn't going to overstep the mark.

It took a few minutes but, finally, Sheelagh detached herself and gently closed the photo album. Intent on letting her take the lead, Sam waited until she stood then followed her out of the locker room. She turned towards the staircase and just a few moments later came to a halt outside CID.

'I'm not sure I can...' Sheelagh murmured.

'I'll talk to Eva,' said Sam, rubbing her arm. 'Why don't you wait here? I am meant to be your FLO, after all.'

Receiving a shrug of assent, Sam pushed through the double doors and endured the entire department hushing on her entrance. She was infinitely glad Sheelagh hadn't walked in beside her and hoped the phenomenon hadn't extended to the landing. Ignoring the stares of her colleagues, Sam crossed straight to Eva's desk and pulled up a chair. Eva looked around in surprise.

'What are you doing here?' she asked. 'Is Sheelagh with you?'

'Yeah, she's waiting outside,' Sam replied. 'Is there any news?'

'They're finished at the house and the DI's waiting for the post-mortem,' Eva said after looking to his closed office door. 'He can't see any foul play involved and, to be honest, I think Jack had a stern word with him this morning and told him to tread carefully.'

'Thank you, Jack,' said Sam then swallowed. 'So when are we expecting the results?'

Eva scratched her neck. 'Conclusively? Tomorrow.'

'But?' Sam pressed knowingly.

'No external signs of injury,' Eva answered after a moment. 'No bruises, abrasions, indentations – no sign of injury whatsoever.'

Sam absorbed that slowly and managed a watery smile. 'That's something at least.'

'How's Sheelagh doing?' questioned Eva.

'I don't even know how to help,' she admitted. 'I feel like I'm just standing around making cups of coffee searching for something to say that doesn't sound...'

Squeezing her arm, Eva said, 'I reckon you're doing a better job than you think.'

'I don't want to, Eva,' she returned. 'All I want is to click my fingers and take this all away for her. I'd do anything, I really would. It's so...unfair. She's had months of misery thanks to Des and, finally, she was happy again. She had a purpose and now...' She blinked away her tears and swallowed hard. 'If it was me, I wouldn't be able to cope.'

'Sheelagh's strong,' said Eva unconvincingly.

'Would you have coped?' Sam retorted. 'If Joanna hadn't come home, would you have coped?'

Falling silent, Eva seemed to consider that. Then she inclined her head and said, 'Yeah, I would've had to. For Sammy's sake. And that's what Sheelagh's gotta do,' she added. 'No matter how old your kids get, they still need you.'

'Especially when they're teenagers,' Sam said softly.

'Exactly.' Eva patted her arm. 'I can't imagine what she's going through but you're doing your best by her, anyone can see that. Take it one step at a time, yeah? You're doing the right things from what I've seen and Sheelagh's lucky to have your support.'

'I don't know about that,' retorted Sam as she stood and steadied herself. 'Thanks, Eva.'

Once more, she avoided the curious looks of her colleagues as she returned to the landing. Glancing around, she realised quickly that Sheelagh wasn't lurking up here and instantly hurried down to reception. She wasn't outside getting some fresh air, nor had Marilyn seen her. After keying in the code, Sam did her best to look anxiously about the nick without appearing anxious. Sheelagh wasn't in the canteen, the locker room, bathroom or the Sergeants' Office. Getting a little desperate, Sam went out into the yard, intent on retracing their steps back to the car but stopped short as she saw Reg hosing down a car and Sheelagh talking to him. Sam only understood how scared she'd been when the knot in her stomach unravelled.

Sheelagh and Reg talked for a few minutes under her watchful gaze until Sheelagh got what she apparently needed out of the conversation and turned around. She looked lost for a moment then she saw Sam waiting for her and her shoulders slumped.

'Shall we go?' Sam questioned.

'Yeah,' said Sheelagh, hesitating then sliding her arm through Sam's as they walked out of the gate.

They didn't speak until they were back at the car, Sam toying with the keys on her lap as she contemplated whether to take Sheelagh back to hers or suggest she go home. It needed to be done at some point but whether this was that moment or not, she didn't know. Treating Sheelagh with kid gloves was only the right thing to do as long as Sheelagh wanted it and she wasn't certain her own impulse to protect her was the right impulse to yield to.

'I needed to ask Reg about Des,' Sheelagh said suddenly. 'I wanted to know if he thought he'd ever try and...' Looking over, she questioned, 'What do you think?'

Sam reached over and rested a hand on her arm. 'I don't believe that he'd ever hurt Niamh,' she said firmly. 'I was never his biggest fan but there's a big difference between doing what he did on impulse with the fire and doing anything to hurt his own daughter. I can't see it, Sheelagh. No one could look at her and want to hurt her, no one would knowingly let anything happen to her.'

Fresh tears had sprung into Sheelagh's eyes. She fumbled for a tissue then said, 'You mean Cameron.'

'I mean everyone,' Sam answered. 'You are not responsible for this, no more than Cameron, no more than Des. And I hope one day you'll believe me.'

Sheelagh dried her tears then bit down on her lip. 'I think you should take me home.'

'Are you sure?' asked Sam. 'You're more than welcome to come back to mine. Or we can go anywhere,' she added, 'anywhere you want.'

'It'll still be there when we get back,' Sheelagh said. 'Not that I don't appreciate the offer.'

Sam just nodded, knowing she was right. If Sheelagh thought it was time to face the house again then it wasn't her place to argue. All she could do was be there, keep trying to do the right things as Eva had said. Sheelagh was the only person in the world apart from Abi who Sam even believed she could help and, for now, she was determined not to analyse the love that had brought her to this point.

Traffic was typically bad when you wanted it to be smooth sailing. It took twice as long as it should've to reach Sheelagh's house but she wasn't sure from her periodic glances sideways whether the delays were welcome or not. Certainly, the expression on Sheelagh's face when they arrived was laced with terror but, then, that may have been more due to the fact there was a black cab parked up outside.

'Will you come in with me?' Sheelagh asked as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

Sam let out a soft snort. 'Is that a real question?'

'No,' said Sheelagh with a pained smile, 'not really.'

'You don't have to go in there, you know,' Sam reminded her. 'You don't have to see Patrick. I can ask him to leave.'

Sheelagh shook her head. 'Just come in with me.'

Patrick had obviously seen them arrive. He'd opened the front door and was hovering on the step, apparently uncertain whether to approach or not. Sam deliberately let Sheelagh leave the car first, allowing her to reach the pavement before she slipped out herself. That meant they reached the path at the same time and Sheelagh seemed to appreciate the synchronicity.

'I'm so sorry,' Patrick murmured.

He stepped back into the hallway and let them past before closing the door. Sam, watching Sheelagh carefully, saw the tremor that passed through her body at the sound before she walked calmly through to the kitchen. She was putting on a front for Patrick and Sam completely understood why. That's why when Sheelagh went through the motions of filling the kettle and assembling the teapot for the three of them, she didn't argue, even if Patrick looked as though he wanted to. Although he'd known this woman for decades longer than Sam, she still suspected she could read her better at the moment. She hated herself for the tiny burst of satisfaction that triggered. Sitting at the table, she rubbed her eyes and watched Sheelagh's precise movements with a combination of love and concern.

Bringing the teapot and cups to the table a few minutes later, Sheelagh looked to Patrick and asked, 'Could you pour the tea? I just need a minute.'

'Sure, sure,' he said instantly. He looked grateful for something to do but as Sheelagh moved to the door he looked over anxiously. 'Where are you going?'

Sam cleared her throat. 'Patrick, did you come by the ring road? Are the temporary lights still snarling traffic up?'

Sheelagh met her eye and said a silent thank you before fleeing the kitchen. Sam heard her climbing the stairs with halting steps but engaged Patrick in conversation first about the traffic then the weather and other general topics until Sheelagh returned ten minutes later with red eyes. It was a strange ten minutes for Sam to pass, even given all that had happened in the last few months. Patrick supposedly knew Sheelagh better than anyone else and she couldn't help but wonder at their lives together before Des had screwed everything up. She knew he was a good man, a good husband and father, but sometimes you needed more than that and Sheelagh certainly had. Why else had she succumbed to Des? Whatever her marriage to Patrick had been like, it hadn't been enough to sustain her before but could it be now after all that had passed?

Sitting down at the table, Sheelagh pulled her tea towards her. 'How are the kids?' she asked Patrick.

As Patrick responded, Sam couldn't fight her urge to withdraw from this conversation and slipped quietly from the kitchen. Seeking refuge in the living room, she clasped her hands together on her lap and listened to the hum of voices through the wall. She didn't want to eavesdrop on the private conversations of husband and wife and she suddenly felt acutely out of place. They were talking about their children in the house they used to share – she didn't belong here.

The longer she sat the more she realised how utterly exhausted she was. Any adrenalin she'd harnessed throughout this never-ending morning was disintegrating and, if she had any sense, she'd make her excuses now, slip home to bed. She'd resolved to stay with Sheelagh for as long as she needed her but, perhaps, right now, she was better off with Patrick.

Suddenly, the door creaked open and Sam jumped up as Sheelagh appeared. 'Is everything okay?' she asked, almost rolling her eyes at how ridiculous that sounded.

'Patrick suggested I might want to go to church,' Sheelagh explained. Before Sam could formulate a response through her conflicted emotions, she asked, 'Would you drive me?'

Surprised, she nodded. Sheelagh smiled wanly and returned to the kitchen to say her goodbyes to Patrick. By the time she was ready to go Sam was standing outside the front door, a fresh burst of energy seeing them to the car when Sheelagh emerged. She didn't quite know why Sheelagh wanted her to drive her instead of Patrick but she was more than willing to run with it.

They only spoke on the way for Sheelagh to give her directions, though Sam sensed that she was a little calmer now. Perhaps it was the prospect of prayer doing that, something she'd never be able to understand in a million years. She remembered praying with Eva after Joanna had been found alive, wondering if she should feel more than she did. But religion was an instinctive thing and she was instinctively against it. Whatever bound Sheelagh to her, faith was an impenetrable barrier between them.

Stopping the car across the road from the church, Sam noted the flicker that crossed Sheelagh's face and said, 'I think I'll stay out here if you don't mind.'

Though she didn't say a word, Sheelagh's eyes were expressive enough. It was plain that she knew Sam was willing to stay outside, go in with her or do a dance on the roof but she'd sensed this was something Sheelagh wanted to do alone. After a moment, Sheelagh left the car and crossed the road with her hands dug into her pockets. Sam watched her into the church then leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, trying to rid herself of the white spots circulating behind her eyelids.

She was startled by a knock on the side window. It was Cameron, looking as if he'd been in a fight with a bodybuilder. Perturbed, she rolled the window down.

'What are you doing here?' she asked. 'What happened to your face?'

He shrugged. 'I went out looking for trouble and I found it, Sarge.'

'Well, I understand that,' she said with a tired smile. She noticed a folded piece of paper in his hand. 'Is that your statement by any chance?'

'Yeah,' he answered, 'I heard Sergeant Murphy wanted to see it. Patrick said you were here. Would it be okay if I went in to see her?'

Nodding, Sam said, 'Don't prolong it though, okay?' Before he moved off, she touched his arm. 'Cameron, I know it wasn't your fault, so does she deep down.'

'Doesn't change anything though, does it, Sarge?' he returned as he crossed the road.

Part of her wondered whether she should've gone in with him but came to the conclusion that it would've heaped more pressure on what was already going to be a fraught exchange. Maybe Sheelagh would value her presence but it could impede Cameron's account of last night if he thought he was dealing with Detective Sergeant Nixon. She might be here in her capacity as a friend but, for all he knew, she was more focused on the professional aspects of the case.

About fifteen minutes later the pair emerged from the church. Even from this distance Sam could tell that Sheelagh had been crying again and had to physically resist her urge to leave the car and join them. Neither of them looked as if the conversation had helped their burden and Cameron, certainly, slunk off along the street with his head bowed.

Returning to the car, Sheelagh slid into the passenger seat without looking at her. Sam wasn't sure what had happened in the church but it wasn't her place to probe; Sheelagh would talk to her if she wanted to. So, instead, she simply started the engine and set off silently.

When they reached the end of the road she glanced sideways and asked, 'Home?'

Sheelagh inclined her head then closed her eyes. Part of Sam was grateful for that. It had suddenly occurred to her that this level of fatigue wasn't any better for her frankness than her driving skills. In an unguarded moment she could make Sheelagh's situation worse by heaping fresh trouble that she couldn't handle onto her shoulders. At least the journey passing in uncommunicative silence meant that Sam could control herself. The lapses of tender embraces and kisses at home during the night and at the station this morning could likely be brushed under the carpet – anything from now on probably couldn't be. She needed to be careful and hold herself together. Be strong, like Gina had said, without being distant. She'd been walking this tightrope for much of her adult life and it had never mattered to her as much as it did now.

This time when they reached the house there was another car behind Patrick's cab. Sheelagh let out a soft groan as she removed her seatbelt.

'Who is it?' Sam queried.

'I go to church and the priest comes to me,' Sheelagh muttered. 'Patrick must've called him.'

Sam literally bit her tongue. Tea and biscuits with a priest really wasn't something she thought she could cope with. Those men spent their entire life listening and observing and she couldn't see him reacting very well to the idea of her being in love with one of his female parishioners. Perhaps that was just her outdated knowledge of Catholicism talking but, even so, it wasn't a conversation she was itching to have. Not to mention the fact that she'd be sat in-between Sheelagh and Patrick – did the priest even know the intricacies of this situation?

'I'd better go in on my own,' continued Sheelagh after a moment.

Love compelled Sam to reply, 'I don't mind coming in with you.'

Shaking her head, Sheelagh leaned over and kissed her cheek. 'This is reality, this is what I have to deal with. Afterwards, I'll go see the kids. I need to see them.'

'You also need to sleep,' Sam reminded her seriously, catching her hand before she could withdraw completely. 'Promise me you'll at least try.'

'I promise,' Sheelagh answered.

'Good,' she said. With one final squeeze she released her hand. 'Call me when you want to go into work or anything like that.'

Sheelagh blinked then knotted her fingers together. 'I never even asked you how the investigation was going.'

'Hey, hey,' Sam said quickly, resting a hand on her cheek and waiting until she looked at her. 'You've got a lot on your mind, you're putting yourself under incredible pressure to hold it all together. Don't you dare feel guilty.'

'Of course I do,' Sheelagh murmured. 'It's another thing I should've –'

'Please,' Sam interrupted, startled by the tremor in her own voice. It must've surprised Sheelagh too – one of the only instances of her own emotions bursting through since she'd arrived at the hospital last night. From the expression on Sheelagh's face right now, it looked as though she might be linking those two facts together. Certainly, her gaze softened as Sam let her hand fall.

'Okay,' she said finally. 'You're right.'

'I'm always right,' Sam replied.

Sheelagh kissed her cheek again then left the car with tremulous steps. Sam watched as Patrick once again opened it for her and ushered her inside. With the door shut and the curtains drawn the house looked gloomy. She supposed the atmosphere was even worse on the inside.

It was mid-afternoon when she landed back on her own doorstep. She wasn't sure where the day had gone but she was dreading the silence of the house caving in on her when she got inside. However, it didn't have the chance. She walked through the door and heard the television humming in the living room. Going through, she found Abi in her pyjamas curled up on the sofa.

'Hi,' Sam said quietly.

Abi looked up sharply. 'Mum, I –'

'It's fine,' she cut in, plopping down beside her. 'What are you watching?'

After frowning for a few seconds, Abi admitted, 'I don't know. It's just on.'

'Suits me,' Sam answered.

She turned her attention to the screen, half-watching some inane chat show until her brain cells went numb. She didn't notice Abi slip from the room, only realising she was back when a glass of wine was pressed into her hand and she blinked.

'It's a little early,' she pointed out.

Abi shrugged. 'I think you deserve it. How's Sheelagh? Where is she?'

'She's with Patrick,' Sam said, feeling the familiar bolt of pain through her chest and hoping that Abi would mistake it for grief over Niamh. 'I've told her to call if she needs anything. I don't think there's much more I can do to help.'

Surveying her shrewdly, Abi questioned, 'And how are you?'

'Oh, I'm...' She trailed off and allowed a couple of hot tears to slide down her cheeks. 'Not great,' she concluded with an attempt at a smile.

'Mum...' Abi murmured then she prised the wine glass from her fingers and put it on the table. 'Come here.'

Sam barely had time to marvel over the role reversal before her tears were flowing fast. Abi held her tight until they subsided then handed her back her wine glass and a tissue before settling against her and focusing on the television again. The wine, coupled with fatigue, worked its magic pretty quickly and Sam knew she nodded off more than once before Abi shook her.

'Have you eaten anything today?' she asked.

Shaking her head, Sam replied, 'I'm not hungry.'

'Wrong answer,' said Abi. 'What do you want? We've got some ready meals or pizza or erm... That might be it actually. You do the shopping, after all.'

'Cheeky,' she said then she tilted her head to the side. 'I think we've got eggs, haven't we? I'd like scrambled eggs.'


Physical and emotional exhaustion meant that when she did relent and go to bed she fell into a thick dreamless sleep that was difficult to extract herself from. It was disorientating, as if she was emerging from suffocating sludge, though the second she remembered why she'd descended into it in the first place she was desperate to submerge herself again. However, she was awake and far too alert to do anything about it. Dragging herself out of bed, she stumbled into the shower and made an effort to wash the events of the last thirty-six hours away. She couldn't say it worked.

It was past eight, she noticed as she dressed. Abi had disabled her alarm and left a note on the kitchen table reminding her to have breakfast. Sam smiled at her thoughtfulness then went through the motions of making a strong cup of coffee before staring into it until it grew cold.

She wondered how Sheelagh was this morning, whether she'd slept at all. Pure common sense said she must have. She'd been awake for as long as Sam had, done a full day at work followed by a night and day of hell – she must have succumbed at some point. With any luck, it had lasted for as long as it possibly could. She'd need all her strength in the days to come.

Of course, Sam wanted to call or text but that would be for her benefit and not Sheelagh's. She was fairly confident that if Sheelagh wanted or needed her in any respect then she'd let her know. Perhaps later she'd send a message, just to check in, but in the meantime she needed to find something to do with her time off.

Eventually, she settled on a full spring clean of upstairs. It kept her busy and was definitely necessary, though the amount of dust she disturbed didn't say much for her general cleaning skills. Once she was happy with the state of the bedroom she focused on the bathroom and that was even more revealing.

Her burst of energy deserted her about eleven and she finally took Abi's advice and ate something, even if it was just a ready meal from Sainsbury's. It was fairly tasteless but did the trick of helping her feel a bit more human then she brewed another coffee and made an effort to drink it this time. Sitting still brought her mind back round to Sheelagh – if it had ever truly departed from that train. Eva had said the post-mortem results would be in today. Perhaps knowing would help or perhaps it wouldn't. It certainly wouldn't change anything and Sheelagh knew that better than anyone.

Her phone beeping with a text message snapped her from her thoughts. She felt an undeniable rush of relief when she found it was Sheelagh asking if she could pick her up straightaway and take her to the nick. She replied in the affirmative, drained her coffee and got moving.

The closer she got to Sheelagh's house the more unreasonably nervous she got. She dealt with grief every day and tragedy was a staple of her job but this was different. If she didn't get this right it was Sheelagh who would suffer for it. Never had Sam felt such pressure to do the right thing but, then, she wondered if just being there for Sheelagh was enough. She wasn't used to her thoughts jittering about all over the place like this; however, since she'd accepted how she felt for Sheelagh it had been a daily occurrence. It was a sure sign of love, yes, but also a sure sign that she'd regret making a wrong move on this one.

Sheelagh was waiting outside when she pulled up. She looked marginally better than she had when Sam had left her the day before but that could just have been wishful thinking on her part. Nevertheless, she didn't imagine the flicker of gratitude that crossed Sheelagh's face.

Sliding into the passenger seat, Sheelagh said, 'Thanks for this. I don't feel like I could drive.'

'Nor should you,' Sam answered. 'Did they call you in?'

'No,' Sheelagh admitted as they began moving. 'Jack and June were meant to be coming to me but, really, I couldn't face it. I don't want them in the house. Does that sound strange?'

Sam shook her head. 'It's entirely natural under the circumstances.'

'You're just saying that,' Sheelagh replied.

'As if I would,' she retorted. 'Look, you've had SOCO trampling over your life, not to mention Manson with his size nines. It's perfectly normal to want to protect what's left of your privacy, even from people who want to help.'

'That isn't why I didn't ask you in yesterday,' said Sheelagh quickly.

'I know that,' she said, glancing sideways. 'That was more to avoid me getting into trouble with a priest.'

'It wasn't,' Sheelagh answered, though there was the wisp of a smile on her lips.

Sam didn't say anything else; she didn't need to. It was enough that for a brief moment she'd almost made Sheelagh smile, even if she was probably feeling guilty at the very idea of it now. Without looking over again, she reached out and squeezed her hand. Sheelagh fingers caught in her own before she withdrew and they spent the rest of the journey in companionable silence.

When they got to the nick Sheelagh was understandably on edge. Sam endeavoured not to mollycoddle her again, only conceding to Sheelagh's grief by measuring her steps to hers but otherwise looking completely impatient. It was all an act, of course, and Sheelagh knew it was all an act but it was the illusion that mattered.

'Sam?' Sheelagh said suddenly as they walked up the ramp in the yard.

Halting, she turned to face her. 'What's up?' she questioned.

'I think I need to do this alone,' she said.

'Okay,' she said carefully, 'if that's what you want.'

Sheelagh's eyes were darting about. 'It's not that I don't –'

'Hey,' Sam cut in, resting a hand on her arm, 'you don't have to explain.'

'I do,' Sheelagh replied. For a few seconds she seemed to struggle with the words then she swallowed hard. 'If you come in with me, I won't be able to hold it together. I don't want the DCI to see me in bits and if you...'

When she trailed off Sam managed a smile that she hoped masked some of the relief she felt. A horrible flicker of doubt had crept into her mind that perhaps she was making things harder for Sheelagh but, no, it was more that Sheelagh trusted her too much. She could cope with that.

'I'll see you afterwards,' promised Sam. 'Come and find me in CID or get Marilyn to call up or something.'

Sheelagh nodded. 'Thank you.'

'What am I here for, hmm?' she returned. 'In the meantime, I'm going to see if Manson's given my desk away.'

They continued into the station and, after meeting her eye, Sam allowed Sheelagh to drift on ahead. She watched her into the Sergeants' Office then continued past it without a sideways glance, climbing the stairs to CID and finding it remarkably difficult to adjust to the prospect of checking on her workload. She felt as if she'd been through a lifetime of changes in the last two days. Work had been low down on her priority list for a while now, though she had to admit that locking up a few villains might be cathartic right about now.

Walking into CID she made a beeline for her desk but was stopped in her tracks by DI Manson rifling through her in-tray. Eva saw her enter and threw her an apologetic smile before burying her head back in her own paperwork. Steeling herself, Sam stepped forward.

'Problem, Guv?' she asked.

He turned around and crossed his arms. 'Look up the definition of 'leave', Samantha. It involves you not coming in.'

'I'm aware of that,' she said coldly. 'I brought Sheelagh in to talk over the results of the post-mortem with the DCI and Sergeant Ackland.'

Perhaps there was a flash of humanity on his face but it rapidly disappeared. 'Right.'

'So,' she went on after a moment, gesturing to her ransacked desk, 'is there something I can help you with?'

'I was looking for your up-to-date reports,' he answered. 'I'm trying to work out which officers are lagging behind, they're not capable of prioritising their own workloads and they haven't been helped much by management as far as I can see.'

Out of the corner of her eye, Sam spotted the utter disdain flitting across Eva's face. In truth, his words had ignited a ball of anger in her stomach, only partially dampened by the fact that his one-upmanship was the least of her worries at the moment.

Measuring her words carefully, she returned, 'Yes, I agree, Guv. I had particular problems with DS Hunter and DC Thatcher, perhaps an officer of your experience will have more luck with them.'

On the surface, of course, she'd said nothing wrong and he couldn't challenge her on it. However, many of their colleagues were paying attention to this skirmish and, though it couldn't help her in the long run, Sam felt a burst of satisfaction at the expression on his face.

'I'll dig them out and put them on your desk before I leave,' she added when he didn't speak. 'Is there anything else you need?'

'No,' he said. 'Thank you.'

With that, he stomped back to his office and slammed the door. Sam sat down at her desk and pulled a chunk of paperwork towards her. She'd been looking through it for a couple of minutes when Eva slid her chair over.

'Nice one, Sarge,' she murmured.

Sam shrugged and pretended to be interested in her paperwork. 'As far as I'm concerned, our DI Manson can go screw himself.'

Eva chuckled. 'He's been on one of his crusades this morning,' she said. 'I'd booked off to take Jo to the dentist but he didn't like that. Or the fact that Debbie had the afternoon off to spend with Andrew, which she then went and cancelled to keep on his good side.'

'He has a good side?' Sam retorted. 'Anyway, I bet me turning up here helping Sheelagh is killing him. Another woman causing a problem with women's issues. Makes me sick,' she added vehemently.

'You and me both,' replied Eva. 'How is Sheelagh?'

'Holding it together,' she said carefully. 'I don't know how but she's – she's... Oh, Eva, she's amazing. I mean, I know it's just a brave face – I know that – but it's a million times better than my brave face would be under the circumstances. She's so...strong.'

The expression on Eva's face was indecipherable. It was her copper's face, the one Sam had put such trust in over her year as her boss, though seeing it now made her skin prickle. She suddenly heard her words through someone else's ears, especially someone as astute as Eva Sharpe, and panicked a little.

Standing up, she nearly knocked a sheaf of papers to the floor. 'I'd better go check she's all right, actually.'

'Sarge, hang on a...'

Eva's voice trailed off as she disappeared through the double doors out onto the corridor. Wandering towards CSU, Sam refrained from going downstairs. You couldn't have a conversation like Sheelagh needed to have in five minutes and she'd promised she'd let her deal with it in her own way. So, instead of doing much at all, she read some of the posters on the way that her eyes had skimmed over a thousand times, thinking to herself how ratty some of them looked and how completely uninformative they were. It at least settled her mind for the time being.

'Samantha?' Jack's voice cut through her concentration.

She spun around to find him watching her from his office doorway. 'Guv?'

Whatever he saw on her face prompted him to smile ruefully and gesture inside. 'Fancy a coffee? I'll even make it.'

'Erm...' Glancing towards the back staircase, she bit her lip. 'I dunno, Guv, I'm meant to be –'

'Sheelagh's with June,' he interjected. 'She'll be fine for now and you look like you could do with the sit-down. No offence.'

'None taken,' she answered.

Left in his office while he went for the coffees, she tried to clear her mind of anything that her silly sincerity to Eva had stirred up. With any luck, Eva would brush it off as grief talking. After all, the thought of DS Samantha Nixon being in love with Sheelagh Murphy was so unbelievable that it was laughable. No, the more she thought about it, the more she supposed Eva would put her admiration of Sheelagh's strength down to nothing but friendship. Especially because, if her only feelings for Sheelagh had been friendly, then she would've still been immensely impressed with the way she was holding herself together at the moment.

'It's a difficult case, this one,' Jack said when he returned. 'Never easy when it's a colleague, particularly one as well-liked as Sheelagh.'

'No,' Sam said then hesitated. 'I take it you've seen a copy of the post-mortem results.'

'I have, yeah,' he answered, 'and Neil technically assigned you as FLO so... It was a hole in Niamh's heart,' he went on. 'Nothing anybody could've done.'

Letting out the breath she didn't know she was holding, she replied, 'That's something.'

'You know,' he continued after a few minutes of considerate silence, 'you should be proud of the way you've stepped up the plate here. You've been more a support to Sheelagh than anyone else could've been. I didn't realise you were so close.'

'It's not something I've felt the need to broadcast, Guv,' she said.

'No, no,' he said with a slight smile, 'no reason why you should. But, even so, I'm impressed with the way you've dealt with it. Not long ago we had to kick you out of here on leave.'

She sipped her coffee and shrugged. 'It's nothing.'

'It's a lot more than that. Listen,' he added, 'I know things have been tough for you lately but, as far as I'm concerned, you're one of the best coppers I've worked with. Things with the DI'll level out, I'm sure.'

Though she nodded, she wasn't certain she believed it. Nevertheless, she cared less than Jack would understand and she couldn't enlighten him. She steered the conversation back onto work-related issues until her coffee was finished then stood.

'I promised the DI I'd get some reports to him before I leave,' she said by way of explanation.

'You take care of yourself,' Jack said, seeing her to the door. 'And look after Sheelagh.'

'I will,' she promised.

Returning to CID, she felt a little more in control than she had before. With Eva absent from her desk, it gave her the opportunity to gather her reports together and deposit them in Manson's empty office without being forced to explain herself. Her luck ran out when she slipped back through CID and was caught by Eva.

'You'll never guess what Debbie's gone and done,' she said without preamble.

'What?' Sam questioned.

'Because she cancelled her leave this afternoon, her childminder walked out on her, dumped Andrew in the nick,' Eva explained. 'So she's been palming him off on anyone who's had the misfortune to walk past her and a few minutes ago –'

'Tell me she didn't,' interrupted Sam.

Eva grimaced. 'She did.'

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Sam muttered, 'Of all the self-centred, heartless things to... Is Sheelagh with him now?'

'From what I know, yes,' Eva replied then, as Sam took off, she hurried after her. 'Hang on a sec, Sarge. Sam!'

When she reached the landing, she aimed for the back staircase but Eva dragged her back. Before she knew what was going on, she'd been hustled into the empty incident room and was glaring at her colleague and friend.

'I don't have time for this,' she warned.

'Well, make time,' Eva said, crossing her arms and blocking the door. 'I reckon you need to talk.'

'No,' she argued, 'what I need is to make sure Sheelagh's okay.'

'Why?' demanded Eva.

Sam scoffed. 'Oh, I don't know,' she retorted. 'Because her daughter died two days ago and Debbie McAllister's crossed a line?'

Her tone might've been combative enough to fell Phil Hunter or Ken Drummond but Eva seemed unfazed. For a few seconds Sam maintained her gruff exterior then it crumbled and her shoulders crumpled.

'I know you, Sam,' Eva said gently. 'And I saw the look on your face the other night. You would've ripped Manson limb from limb if necessary. '

'Wouldn't you?' returned Sam softly.

'Yes,' conceded Eva with a half-smile. 'Because I'm a mother, a friend, a colleague. But you love her and that's why you were so hacked off at him.'

Sam felt the words reverberate through her then, finally, she nodded. 'I suppose I've been a little transparent over the last couple of days.'

'Be a miracle if you hadn't been,' Eva answered. 'You can't see someone you love in this much pain and it not affect you. Even the impenetrable Samantha Nixon couldn't manage that one.'

'As long as I'm around her, I need to,' she replied.

'You haven't told her then?' questioned Eva.

'Of course not,' she said shortly.

It looked as though Eva was contemplating interrogating her on that point but she swiftly changed her mind. Instead, she said, 'Look, you're putting too much pressure on yourself.' When Sam let out a soft snort she pressed, 'What?'

'I said the same thing to Sheelagh yesterday,' she explained. 'She's the one who's grieving, Eva, not me.'

'You loved that little girl, didn't you?' Eva asked and Sam was dismayed to feel tears spring into her eyes. 'You love Sheelagh,' she continued with more confidence, 'and you loved Niamh. It's only natural that you were picturing what life could be like, which means it's only natural that you should be grieving for her now. You've got to let yourself grieve.'

'No,' she said firmly, 'not yet. She's the important one.'

Acknowledging that with a sigh, Eva nevertheless said, 'At some point you've got to face it, you know. All of it. It ain't going away.'

'I know that,' she admitted. 'I know. But, for now, I've gotta do this my way, Eva. It's the only way I've got.'

After holding her gaze for a few seconds, Eva stepped out of the way of the door. She didn't say a word as Sam passed, something she greatly appreciated. At some point she'd have to consider the implications of Eva knowing what she did but, really, right now she was relieved to get out of there without a debate. Besides, she needed to rescue Sheelagh from Debbie McAllister's natural insensitivity and see how she was coping with the post-mortem results.

Her first port of call was the Sergeants' Office and, fortunately, it proved to be an excellent guess. The door was ajar and Andrew was visible on the floor drawing with felt tips. Sam nudged the door open and found Sheelagh behind her desk, lost in thought and staring in the general direction of the young boy. Slipping inside, Sam closed the door quietly behind her and neither occupant of the office seemed to notice. She took a moment to analyse Sheelagh's expression, though she couldn't get a complete read on it. Obviously she'd been crying but Sam wasn't certain whether it had been cathartic or not, whether the results had made her feel any less to blame. From the wistful and pained way she was staring towards Andrew, Sam would hazard a guess at no.

'Hey,' she said eventually.

Sheelagh roused herself and blinked several times. 'How long have you been standing there?'

'How are you doing?' Sam returned.

'I asked you first,' said Sheelagh.

'Stalemate,' Sam murmured, glancing at Andrew. 'Listen, why don't I take over here?'

Frowning, Sheelagh questioned. 'What is it? You don't trust me around him, is that it?' She didn't dignify that with a response and, finally, Sheelagh grimaced. 'I'm sorry.'

'Don't worry about it,' she answered. Stepping forward, she perched on the desk beside her and crossed her arms, careful not to fuss in any way. In a low voice, she added, 'I'm going to enjoy yelling at a certain colleague when I get my hands on her.'

Sheelagh reached out and touched her arm. 'Please don't. I didn't mind, he's not been a bit of trouble.'

'That's hardly the point,' Sam reminded her. Looking down at Sheelagh's fingers encircling her arm, she sighed. 'Okay, fine. But we've no idea how long she'll be gone and you might need to get out of this place.'

Conceding that with a reluctant shrug, Sheelagh stood up. 'Would you mind?'

'Would I have offered if I did?' she shot back.

Sheelagh smiled faintly. 'Yes.'

'Okay,' she said with a chuckle, 'you're right there but, honestly, I'm more worried about you getting home if I stay here.'

'Tony offered me a lift when I saw him in the canteen,' replied Sheelagh. 'I'm sure the offer's still open.'

Nodding, Sam asked, 'Do you want me to pop round when I'm done here?'

'No,' Sheelagh said after a moment of deliberation. 'I think I need to go round and see the kids, tell them that... Do you know?'

'Jack told me,' she answered. 'I hope that was all right.'

'Of course it was,' muttered Sheelagh.

Sam slipped off the desk and studied her carefully. 'Do you want to talk about it?'

Shaking her head, Sheelagh took a long breath. 'Not now, not if I have to see the kids. I need to –'

'I understand,' Sam interrupted. 'I do.'

'I know you do,' Sheelagh said. 'Look, I'll call you. Is that okay?'

She snorted and took the seat she'd vacated behind the desk. 'Ask me another, make it difficult this time.'

After meeting her eye, Sheelagh tried once more to smile. Then she took one final look at Andrew and fled the office. Sam immediately felt the loss but she knew she'd done the right thing. She only remained at the desk for a few minutes before she closed the door and sat cross-legged beside Andrew on the floor.

'Hi, what are you drawing?' she asked. 'Is that a frog?'

They were sat there for about twenty minutes making various unidentifiable splodges on the paper before the door sheepishly opened and Debbie put her head through.

'Sheelagh, I'm so...' She trailed off and paled as she saw her. 'Sam, what are you doing here?'

Standing, she gestured to the door. 'Outside.' It was a mark of how genuinely sorry Debbie felt that she followed her without comment. When she pulled the door closed Sam continued, 'Look, what is he even doing here, Debbie? I know you had childminder problems but why did you cancel your leave?'

Debbie glanced up and down the corridor before she said, 'You know as well as I do that the DI's out for blood. He doesn't like you, he doesn't like me, he doesn't like Eva. I'm trying to keep my job here, Sam.'

She was unused to such honesty from Debbie McAllister. In fact, she was wondering where it had been for the last year and a half. 'I get that,' she said finally. 'But, if that's the case, what's he doing here at all?'

'It wasn't planned,' Debbie replied. 'My childminder walked.'

'I had that when Abi was younger,' she admitted, resting her shoulder against the door. 'I pushed her too hard with long shifts when I was trying to make the jump up to DS. It's a balance, Debbie,' she went on. 'Somewhere down the line you've gotta decide what's more important – him or the job.'

Debbie bristled. 'That's a bit rich, Samantha. You dragged Abi in and out of here for most of last year. How's that putting her first?'

'I learned my lesson,' she said, ignoring her instinct to snap and thanking Sheelagh's influence for that one. 'I wish I'd put her first. I've missed too much and you don't get it back.'

She didn't expect Debbie McAllister to wholeheartedly agree and see the error of her ways but she was pleasantly surprised when, before she could walk away, she questioned, 'How's Sheelagh?'

'I don't know,' she said honestly. 'She said Andrew was good as gold though.'

'He is,' Debbie said with a more motherly smile on her face than Sam had ever anticipated seeing. 'I'm really sorry for –'

Sam held up a hand. 'It's fine,' she cut in. 'No harm done.'

She supposed Debbie was as surprised by her attitude as she felt herself but neither of them drew attention to it as she walked off. It was the day for odd conversations, after all, with Sam having a veiled pop at Manson, Jack's fatherly attentions, not to mention her big discussion with Eva. This is what the shocks of the last week had wrought on her.

Getting back home, she resumed her cleaning of the morning. Consequently, when Abi came home the kitchen was spotless and she looked perturbed by finding her with the contents of the cupboards on the table. After checking on her in the most unsubtle way imaginable, Abi excused herself to do her homework and Sam carried on with her efforts. What transpired was a bizarre evening of cleaning, rubbish telly and a pasta bake that tasted faintly of dust.

Abi retreated to her room again after dinner and Sam was left alone with her thoughts. She pondered calling Sheelagh but she had to leave the ball in Sheelagh's court and, besides, the primary result of her conversation with Eva earlier had been to remind her that she'd considered distancing herself from this entire mess before Niamh. Walking away had been impossible but, then, it was always going to be that way, wasn't it? For both her and Sheelagh's sake, there needed to be some distance between them, only she couldn't identify when. Was there ever going to be a point where she thought that Sheelagh didn't need her? She was vain enough to believe herself needed. Equally, she relied on Sheelagh's friendship far more than she liked. It was a mess, that's what it was.

By half-past ten she was thinking of getting to bed when her mobile rang. Seeing the name on the display she dumped her wine glass on the coffee table and answered it.

'Sheelagh?' she asked. 'Is everything all right?'

'Could you – I don't – Des was just here.'

Sam jumped up. 'Are you okay?'

'Would you –'

'I'm on my way,' she interjected. 'Lock all the doors and windows. Don't let anyone in apart from me.'

Calling up to Abi that she was nipping out, she grabbed her bag and was in the car before she really knew what she was doing. The drive over there was a bit of a blur and she was grateful she didn't run into any traffic jams or incidents on the way.

When she arrived, however, she made a deliberate effort to calm herself down. Switching on her copper's nose as she left the car, she took a preliminary look around the area. As far as she could tell, Des was no longer around and she knocked on the door a little more at ease.

'Sheelagh?' she called. 'It's me.'

Opening the door, Sheelagh practically buried herself in her arms. Sam manoeuvred them into the hallway, managing to shut the door and turn the top lock all while holding Sheelagh steady. Then she led her through into the living room and sat them both down on the sofa.

'What happened?' she asked softly.

The tears had dried on Sheelagh's face as she withdrew. 'He wanted me to run away with him, me and Niamh. I had to tell him that...'

'Oh, sweetheart,' Sam muttered, cupping her cheek. 'Shush, it's okay.'

'Did you call it in?' Sheelagh questioned after a moment.

She frowned. 'Of course not. Did you?'

'I called you first,' Sheelagh admitted. She grimaced and scrubbed at her eyes. 'I should've called the nick, I didn't think.'

'Listen,' Sam said, 'I'll call Jack direct. He'll understand you were confused, he'll square it with MIT. I've already looked around,' she added. 'Des is long gone. They'll get nothing out of questioning you now. More to the point, I won't let them.'

Sheelagh was gazing at her with a look of complete trust that made her chest ache. 'Thank you.'

Sam shook her head and let her hand fall. 'Are the kids here?' she asked.

'No, Siobhan's coming tomorrow,' Sheelagh answered.

'Right,' Sam said briskly, 'well, I'm afraid you're stuck with me for the night then. I'll call Jack then I'll call Abi. How about you pour us a glass of something?'

Slowly, Sheelagh nodded. 'Are you sure you don't mind?'

'Make it a big glass,' Sam retorted. Standing, she squeezed Sheelagh's shoulder. 'I'm going outside, I'll have another look around, just to be sure, okay?'

It was partly for the fresh air and partly for the privacy that she returned to the chill of the street. She did want to have another look round for Des, just to settle her own mind more than anything else, but she also wanted to be away from Sheelagh in case she was forced to have a ruck with Jack. She really didn't want MIT disturbing Sheelagh tonight when there was no need. Des wouldn't stick around, especially when he needed to digest the news that his daughter was dead. In truth, Sam wouldn't wish him caught tonight. She had too much affection for Sheelagh to advocate a rapid arrest of the father of her baby on the night he'd had such devastating news. That certainly wasn't the copper in her talking.

Jack, thankfully, was on her wavelength. He suggested that Sheelagh go in to talk to him in the morning but otherwise agreed that Des wasn't stupid enough to hang around. Perhaps there was a bit of the father speaking in there too but he was determined not to alert MIT until the morning and Sam went along with it. The conversation with Abi was as simple – although she was bemused at her rushing out of the house, once she knew that it was for Sheelagh's benefit she was completely behind the idea.

Returning to the house, Sam securely locked the door behind her and joined Sheelagh in the living room. There were two glasses of wine on the coffee table and her mind was dragged back to New Year's Eve and how beautiful that had been. Perhaps Sheelagh had made the same connection. Certainly, she picked up her wine and took a larger gulp than was strictly necessary. Sam mirrored her though, feeling a fresh wave of loss that she couldn't began to unpack right now.

'What did the DCI say?' Sheelagh questioned.

'He wants you to go in tomorrow and make a statement,' she answered. 'He thinks as I do – Des isn't gonna stick around. It might help if you...run through it now.'

Sheelagh winced but took another sip of her wine and steadied herself. 'It was about ten o'clock, not long after anyway,' she said in a monotone. 'I'd spent the afternoon first at the church then the – the funeral directors. I was gonna go straight to Patrick's but I thought I should get the ball rolling. It's Friday, the funeral's on Friday.'

'Okay,' Sam said softly. 'So what time did you get back here?'

'About eight,' she answered finally. 'I saw the boys then I came home and I... I don't know what I did,' she admitted.

'Did you eat?' asked Sam.

'I wasn't hungry,' Sheelagh answered. 'Anyway, there was a knock on the door and it was him. I wouldn't let him in at first so he started telling me his big plans right there on the doorstep. He was talking about Spain, me and Niamh going with him. I – I lost it. I had to come back in here because I couldn't look at him. He followed me inside,' she continued in a dispassionate voice, 'and I had to tell him. I had to stop him making all these plans, taking off with them so I told him.'

Sam let the silence stretch then rested a hand on her back. 'How did he react?'

Swallowing, Sheelagh succumbed to a fresh bout of tears. 'He ran. He just turned and ran.'

Any sympathy Sam had felt for Des Taviner suddenly evaporated. Once again, his priority had been his own miserable skin, disregarding Sheelagh's grief to dwell on his own. Her anger must've shown on her face because Sheelagh's spine relaxed a little under her touch. It looked like her being angry about it absolved Sheelagh from any guilt she might've felt about her own feelings on the matter.

Gathering her thoughts together, Sam queried, 'Did he say anything that might suggest where he'd been or what his future plans are?'

'Just Spain, that's all,' Sheelagh replied. 'He said he'd come back for us. If he said anything more specific I'm afraid I didn't catch it. And I know that sounds like a cop-out,' she added, 'and it sounds like I'm covering for him but I'm not.'

'I know that,' Sam assured her. 'But you might wanna leave that bit out when you tell Jack.'

Sheelagh nodded. 'I don't think there's anything else. He was only here a few minutes. I called you as soon as he left.'

Massaging her back, Sam said, 'You've done brilliantly, okay? Now I'm gonna find something for you to eat and then you're going to bed.'

Letting out a soft sigh, Sheelagh leaned in and rested her head on her shoulder. 'All right.'

'That was easy,' Sam murmured, glancing down and managing a smile.

Since Sheelagh seemed so comfortable, she gave it a few minutes before gently dislodging her and going through to the kitchen. There was soup in the cupboard and she plopped it into the pan, trying to ignore how deathly quiet the house was. As a matter of course, she double-checked all the locks on the lower level then climbed the stairs to do the same up there. Going into the master bedroom, she noted all the little signs that told her Sheelagh hadn't been sleeping up here then collected the blanket and pillow tossed on the chair before returning to the living room.

'Here,' she said, putting them beside Sheelagh.

She looked up in surprise. 'How did you –'

'Soup's probably done by now,' Sam interrupted. 'Do you want to eat in here?'

Sheelagh took a deep breath and stood up. 'No, I'll come through. Have you eaten?' she asked as she followed her.

'Actually, yes,' retorted Sam. 'Dusty pasta bake, a new delicacy.'

There was something like a chuckle as Sheelagh made for the cooker. 'You'll have to introduce me.'

'Abi wouldn't recommend it,' Sam answered, stepping in front of her. 'Sit down and be quiet.'

After delivering the soup to the table Sam retrieved her wine from the living room and spent the next ten minutes staring through the glass doors into the pitch-black garden. She didn't truly believe she'd see anything of Des but it was her way of making sure Sheelagh ate all her soup without making it too obvious.

'You can relax now,' Sheelagh said. 'I've finished.'

Turning around, Sam surveyed the empty bowl. 'That'll do, I suppose. You look tired.'

'I am,' she admitted.

'Come on then,' said Sam. She held out her hand and pulled Sheelagh to her feet. Leading her through to the living room, she deposited her on the sofa and looked at her seriously. 'Is there anything else you need?'

Sheelagh swallowed and bit her lip. 'Would you stay with me for a little while? It's getting to sleep that's the problem.'

Sam smiled and sat down in the armchair. 'Do you want me to spout gibberish to help it along?'

'If you feel the urge,' Sheelagh answered. After draining her wine, she arranged her makeshift bed, her head at the end of the sofa nearest to Sam. 'You'll take my bed?'

Her stomach flipped. 'Yeah, I will.'

'Thank you,' said Sheelagh after a moment. 'I don't know what I would've done without you this week.'

'Go to sleep,' Sam told her, though she felt the words swell in her chest.

With the closest thing to a true smile Sam had seen on her face since this all kicked off, Sheelagh settled down on the sofa and closed her eyes. Unobserved, Sam was able to look at her with all those emotions probably showing on her face that she was battling to keep bottled on a daily basis. She thought about talking but, really, she didn't know what to say. She wasn't good with platitudes and Sheelagh didn't deserve them. So, instead, she remained silent, sipping her wine and nakedly staring.

Sheelagh's breathing soon regulated. Under the pretext of checking the blanket was snug around her chin, Sam knelt beside the sofa and pressed the back of her hand to Sheelagh's cheek. She could feel the warmth of her breath against her lips and closed her eyes to better remember the sensation. Opening them again, she leaned forward and kissed Sheelagh's forehead. Then she rose, turned out the light, double-checked the door and climbed the stairs.

The idea of sleeping in Sheelagh's bed scared and thrilled her in equal measure. On another day she might over-think this, equivocate and make up one of the empty beds in the kids' rooms. But she didn't want to wake Sheelagh with any noise and, besides, she was feeling the events of the last few days catching up with her again. So she removed her jacket and shoes and slipped under the covers then she exhaled heavily. The covers smelt of Sheelagh, so did the pillow. In the midst of all that was going on, she almost hated herself for where her mind wandered to but she couldn't help it.

Turning on to her back, she stared into the darkness. Niamh's cries should be filling this house and, she allowed herself to admit, Sheelagh should be next to her. This...mess wasn't the way it was supposed to be. She might not be religious but she knew when something wasn't right and this wasn't right, none of it.


The next morning Sam found she'd slept better than she deserved to. It was just past six when she became aware of her surroundings and, for a few precious moments, she luxuriated in the sensation of waking in Sheelagh's bed. Then reality hit and she lifted her head from the pillow, trying to hear if there were any sounds from downstairs. For the moment all seemed quiet but she wanted to be ahead of Sheelagh's needs today so she dragged herself out of the bed and stumbled to the bathroom. She splashed her face a few times and grimaced at how dishevelled and smelly she was before going down to the living room.

She didn't know if Sheelagh had been awake anyway or if she'd woken her but Sam found her still lying on the sofa staring into space. Sam crouched down, painfully aware of her knees creaking.

'Coffee?' she asked.

Sheelagh slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes. 'Let me do it.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' she answered. 'You know my coffee's better than yours.'

Chuckling, Sheelagh gestured towards the kitchen. 'Be my guest.'

Ten minutes later they were seated at the kitchen table with steaming mugs apiece and, Sam suspected, equal expressions of dismay at being awake at all. They drank in silence, occasionally meeting each other's eye. It struck Sam more than once that this was how starry-eyed couples behaved when they were nervous around each other but she rapidly tried to bury that thought. It was too early in the day to start down that avenue of regrets.

'I need to get home and change before we go into the nick,' Sam said finally.

It took a moment for the words to compute but then Sheelagh shook her head. 'I think I'd better go in alone. I don't want everyone down there thinking you've had a personality transplant. You've been running around after me for days now, longer if anyone's been paying attention. It needs to stop.'

Sam frowned and clutched her coffee. 'Not as far as I'm concerned.' Then it crossed her mind that Sheelagh's reticence today might be attributed to the same place as her reticence yesterday – a desire to remain strong in front of the rest of the world – and she cleared her throat. 'That said, I do smell like a barnyard this morning. I could do with going home and freshening up.'

'You could,' Sheelagh agreed with a flash of her old cheekiness.

'Can I offer to come round later?' Sam questioned. 'You know, when I smell a bit better.'

Sheelagh smiled. 'I'd like that. Siobhan's due later but I don't know what time.'

'I don't have to,' said Sam, more from compulsion than desire. 'Honestly, whatever's going to help.'

'You do make good coffee,' Sheelagh said by way of answer and Sam grinned. If she was picking up empathy from Sheelagh then she was certainly picking up evasion from her.

Having forced her to eat last night, Sam didn't press the issue this morning. Knowing that Sheelagh had to run the gauntlet of Jack and possibly MIT, she was a little more lenient with her than she might've been and got to the front door without admonishing her at all.

Sheelagh hugged her tightly for a minute. Withdrawing, she said, 'I won't thank you.'

'Good,' she replied, opening the door then turning back. 'Stand your ground,' she said. 'You haven't done anything wrong. Jack knows that, he just has to cover his bases.'

'I know,' returned Sheelagh. 'Don't worry about me.'

'I won't,' she lied as she slipped out of the door. Glancing back, she caught the affection on Sheelagh's face and smiled at her. She was aware of her attention all the way to her car and along the road but, strangely, it didn't bother her.

When she got home her first port of call was the shower. After that, she forced herself to eat some breakfast and pondered what to do with the rest of her morning. She was tempted, of course, to call Sheelagh or the nick and see how it had gone but she talked herself out of it. This wasn't her situation to control. It was Sheelagh's and she had no doubt that she'd call her if she needed a shoulder. After all, she had last night, hadn't she?

While she was pottering around in the living room late morning her mobile rang and she practically jumped on it, anxious to find it was Gina.

'What's wrong?' she asked.

'I thought you should know,' Gina answered, 'that Sheelagh left here a bit overwrought.'

'Oh, no,' she muttered. 'What happened?'

'Reg received a call from Des,' explained Gina. 'He wanted to know which funeral home Niamh's at. He didn't tell him, of course, but that's apparently where his head's at.'

Sam groaned and pressed her fingers into her eyes. 'Can't he leave well enough alone?'

'I suppose he thinks he's got the right,' Gina said.

'The right?' Sam repeated. 'Can he actually hear himself? This isn't about him! Niamh was an accident to him, a mistake. It was Sheelagh who gave birth, Sheelagh who suffered. She had to come home to find –'

Her own words choked her and she was relieved that Gina couldn't see her face. She probably looked as angry as she felt, her genuine indignation mingled with the recurring spurt of jealousy that she felt every time she thought of the pair of them together.

'Listen,' Gina said briskly after a moment, 'she left here a bit upset, that's all. I thought you might be able to...'

'I will,' she promised. 'Thanks for letting me know.'

Hanging up, she immediately left to travel the same roads she'd become so familiar with lately. She was fuming and, she conceded when she arrived, she was in no fit state to calm Sheelagh down if she was in a similar state. Nevertheless, she was too fraught to sit outside the house doing nothing so her only option was to go knock on the door. Ignoring the bell had been a habit she'd acquired thanks to Niamh and she realised belatedly that she didn't need to employ it anymore.

However, it wasn't Sheelagh who opened the door – it was Siobhan. Sam was a little unprepared for that one and it took her a few moments to adjust.

'Hi,' she said finally. 'We haven't met properly but –'

'You're Samantha,' Siobhan cut in. 'Mum's not here, I thought she was with you.'

Sam held up a hand. 'She had to go into the station for something, I said I'd meet her back here. There's nothing to worry about. Just my timekeeping,' she added, earning a small smile.

'Come in, come in,' Siobhan said suddenly, stepping aside. 'I'm being really rude.'

It felt strange entering this house as someone else's guest. At least with Sheelagh Sam had overcome her reservations and started to treat the place as a second home. That had been shaken by the events of the last week but she still felt odd as Siobhan showed her to a chair and politely put the kettle on. From studying her posture, Sam tried to work out what was going on in the young woman's head but it wasn't easy. She was conflicted, that much was for sure.

Making a pot of tea, Siobhan showed how well she'd been brought up by engaging her in chit-chat about traffic and the weather. Sam couldn't expect any confidences but it did serve as a sharp reminder how distant she was from Sheelagh's everyday life beyond Niamh. It was as though she'd been living in a bubble for the last few months, imagining it was just the three of them and Abi but it wasn't. She'd been foolish to allow herself to get sucked into the fantasy. It was only now it had been shattered that she realised how potent it had been.

Half an hour later the front door rattled. Sheelagh had obviously seen her car because she didn't look surprised to see her but there was certainly something playing on her face that Sam, with all her experience, couldn't place immediately. She watched Sheelagh greet Siobhan with a big hug then, belatedly, turned to the table.

'Gina called me,' Sam explained before she could ask.

Siobhan glanced between them then suggested, 'Why don't I go buy some more milk and bread? We're nearly out.'

'Thanks, love,' Sheelagh said. 'There's some change on top of the microwave.'

It was noticeable that Sheelagh relaxed the moment the door shut, though Sam wasn't going to try and fathom that issue out right now. Instead, with Siobhan gone, she felt able to rise and rinse out the teapot, boiling the kettle again and preparing them both a cuppa with the last of the milk. When she put the cups down on the table she only briefly met Sheelagh's eye, uncertain of what was hovering in the air between them this time.

'What did Gina say?' Sheelagh asked eventually.

'Just that Des called Reg,' answered Sam, 'and that you were upset.'

'That's an understatement,' Sheelagh muttered. She wrapped her hands around her tea until it must've scorched her skin. 'If they turn Niamh's funeral into a circus, I swear I'll...'

'What have they said?' Sam queried carefully.

'Nothing specific,' admitted Sheelagh. 'But if they think that Des wants to see her then who knows what they'll do? Did Gina say anything about what they're planning?'

Sam shook her head. 'Listen, I don't think you've got anything to worry about. Even MIT wouldn't be that insensitive and, besides, Des wouldn't be that stupid.'

'Wouldn't he?' Sheelagh retorted. 'This is a man who killed six people trying to get rid of some dodgy fifties.'

Conceding that with a shrug, Sam nevertheless said, 'He doesn't wanna be caught. He'll assume there'll be a police presence, even if there won't be.'

Sheelagh's eyebrows contracted. 'And there won't be?'

'No,' she said firmly.

There was a brief silence then Sheelagh questioned, 'Do you think I'm just being selfish? Keeping Des away from Niamh like this.'

Sam almost choked on her coffee. Placing the cup back down on the table, she stretched a hand to meet Sheelagh's upturned palm. 'Of course you're not.'

'It's easier,' continued Sheelagh, focused on their joined hands but apparently not seeing them. 'I can't blame Cameron, I don't want to blame myself so I just –'

'You are not to blame,' Sam interjected. 'It was a medical anomaly, something you couldn't –'

'I wasn't with her,' Sheelagh cut in. Unconsciously, it seemed, her fingers pressed around Sam's. 'I didn't want her. All those months I was ignoring her existence and praying for a miscarriage, wishing I could talk myself into an abortion. I didn't deserve her, I didn't love her enough.'

'Sheelagh...' Sam murmured.

The ache she felt at seeing such palpable pain on Sheelagh's face had crept into her voice and she knew it was noticed. Briefly, she wondered how she'd allowed herself to become so transparent and how far that transparency stretched. If Eva could see it then Sheelagh couldn't help but see it, surely. For now, she just had to hope that she didn't trace it to its root cause, because it was the last thing she needed.

'Listen to me,' Sam went on after a few seconds, hoping she sounded more herself, 'you might be able to convince yourself of that but you're on a hiding to nothing trying to convince me. I saw you, remember. I saw you at the hospital, I saw you here. I know how much you loved her, however bad things were with Des and Patrick. When I...' Trailing off, she gathered herself together and squeezed Sheelagh's hand. 'The first time I saw you together...it was magical. The look on your face, how in love you were... Trust me when I tell you that you loved her.'

Fresh tears were glistening in Sheelagh's eyes. 'No one else knew her, did they? Just the two of us.'

The truth of that brought a strained smile to her face and she nodded. 'I loved her too. I hope you know that.'

When a couple of tears spilled down Sheelagh's cheeks Sam dug into her pocket for a packet of tissues. It had become habit, almost, to dry Sheelagh's tears for her and she yielded to the urge now then crumpled the tissue up and leaned back in her chair. She didn't like the strange look in Sheelagh's eyes or the confusion etched on her brow.

'What is it?' Sheelagh asked suddenly.

Sam shrugged. 'I'm worried about you.'

'You're dodging,' returned Sheelagh, sitting forward and resting her elbows on the table. 'What aren't you telling me?'

Though she squirmed for a couple of seconds, she was ultimately saved by the front door opening again. Instantly, Sheelagh seemed mired in a conflict of her own. She slumped back in her chair, dragging her cup towards her and sipping the dregs of her lukewarm coffee. When Siobhan entered, she seemed perturbed by the silence and Sam immediately stood.

'Look,' she said, 'you two should spend some time together. You know where I am if you need me,' she added, risking a smile at Sheelagh and earning a wan one in return.

Saying a polite goodbye to Siobhan, Sam left the house, clicking the door shut behind her and exhaling heavily. Whatever had been going on in there was so far from appropriate that it might as well be in outer space. No way was she going to encourage Sheelagh to explore feelings and emotions she wasn't ready to deal with. But where did that leave them now? Sam didn't know. Then she berated herself – the next week was going to be bad enough without dwelling on that. So, once again, she pushed it to the back of her mind and carried on walking.


Although Sheelagh sent her a text the next day, it was with an implicit plea not to visit or call. It simply said she was okay and confirming the time of the funeral the following day, coupled with a question about whether she wanted to come to the house beforehand. She answered yes, of course, then spent the rest of Thursday worrying about it. Though she took herself off to the supermarket and dropped by the retail park for a look around, she was preoccupied for much of the day.

The main excitement came in the form of a call from Gina while she was in the booze aisle. She pulled her trolley close to the side and covered her free ear to listen properly. However, she was regretting the proximity of breakables as Gina explained that Des had broken into the chapel of rest that morning and tied Reg up while he sat with Niamh. Of course, he'd done a runner by the time Gina arrived but not before he'd learned that Cameron had been babysitting when Niamh died. It was typical Des that he refused sense and had vowed to kill Cameron, adding another layer of complication to the manhunt.

'They are leaving the funeral well alone, aren't they?' Sam questioned.

'As far as I'm aware,' Gina answered.

'Good,' she said. 'It's the last thing she needs.'

'I'll see you at the wake, I suppose,' said Gina after a moment. 'We can talk then.'

'Talk?' she asked carefully. 'What about?'

'I'm sure we'll think of something,' Gina returned. 'See you.'

That brief conversation at least gave Sam something to ponder for the rest of the night, though it seemed to drag on forever. Abi, a little hesitantly, had asked to stay at a friend's and, knowing how badly she'd been shaken by Niamh's death, Sam had let her go without comment. She regretted that as the walls closed in but a bottle of wine to herself dimmed her brain a bit. It was also partly the reason she woke up feeling nauseous – or, at least, it was a good excuse for it.

She took extra care dressing and was ready ridiculously early. However, she didn't acquiesce to her urge to go straight round to Sheelagh's, reasoning that she'd let her know if she wanted her there. She was probably being looked after by Patrick and the kids, just the way it should be.

So when she arrived in a taxi at the designated time she was surprised no other cars were outside the house, not even a black cab. The door was answered by Siobhan, evidently battered by a few days with her grieving mother but doing her best to keep a brave face on it.

'Hi,' she said, 'Mum's in the living room. I'm not sure...'

Sam patted her arm, sensing her uncertainty. 'How about I go talk to her and you put the kettle on, hmm? I'm parched.'

In truth, another cup of tea or coffee would probably make her throw up but it was more about giving Siobhan something to do and giving her chance to see Sheelagh alone. She watched Siobhan into the kitchen before pushing open the living room door and slipping inside.

Sheelagh was dressed but distant. It didn't seem as if she'd heard the doorbell or Sam enter the room, sitting with her elbows on her knees, one finger entwined in the teddy bear bracelet on her opposite wrist. Sam watched her for a few moments then closed the door quietly and moved in front of her. Still, Sheelagh didn't seem to see her and so she kneeled down in front of her, pressing a hand to her arm.

'Hey,' she said softly.

Blinking, Sheelagh slowly came into herself. She noticed her and managed a weak smile, muttering, 'Have you been here long?'

'Just arrived,' Sam answered.

'You're lying,' said Sheelagh.

'Nope,' she replied, 'I'm bending the truth. Is there anything I can get you, anything you need?'

Sheelagh shook her head. 'I'm okay.'

'Okay,' Sam murmured.

Rising, she sat beside her on the sofa and absorbed the silence of the room. It was oppressive after just a few seconds; she didn't know how Sheelagh had been coping with it. She was determined not to pile sympathy on, though, and so simply laced her fingers together on her lap and strained her ears for the sounds of Siobhan making their drinks.

After a minute, Sheelagh broke the silence. 'The boys aren't coming. I don't think Siobhan wants to be here but she's being so good about it. I'm proud of her.'

'How is she coping with it?' Sam asked.

'I think she feels it in the abstract,' Sheelagh said. 'She feels sad because she knows she should but she's confused. Part of her is relieved, a smaller part than with the boys but still a part of her. She thinks that everything can go back to how it was but –'

'Not now,' Sam insisted, taking her hand. 'You don't want to think about anything now, just...concentrate on getting through the day, all right? I'll be there, Siobhan'll be there. Who else is coming?'

Sheelagh took a few steadying breaths. 'A couple of family friends, one of my aunts, a few distant cousins,' she answered. 'The rest of them aren't talking to me. I don't know about Patrick. I've invited Cameron, but I understand if he doesn't want to come, and June.'

'June?' Sam repeated. In the past she'd been jealous of Sheelagh confiding in June over her but it wasn't that confusing her now, they were well beyond that. It was merely that she wondered how it had come about, since Sheelagh was intent on keeping it a small funeral.

'She came round yesterday,' Sheelagh explained. 'I think she thought there should be someone from the nick there.'

'Or someone else did,' Sam answered darkly. She hadn't forgiven Superintendent Okaro for his recent mistakes, especially his remark about Sheelagh washing her own dirty laundry instead of helping catch Des. While it hadn't impacted subsequent events, it was still ridiculously insensitive from a man whose wife had just been arrested in connection with fraud. However, she doubted Sheelagh knew about his attitude and she wasn't keen on enlightening her now. So, instead, she pointed out, 'I'm going to be there. Don't I count?'

'No,' said Sheelagh with a brief glance sideways, 'you don't.'

It was said fondly and meant fondly. Besides, it had distracted Sheelagh from the train of thought that looked to the future and all the uncertainty that might hold. When Siobhan entered with the tea tray a few minutes later, Sheelagh noticeably drew herself together, though her leg leaned against Sam's for the duration of their small talk with Siobhan.

'Do you want to get your coat, love?' Sheelagh asked when her cup was empty. 'We'll be off in a minute.'

Nodding, Siobhan took their cups back to the kitchen and Sam heard her climbing the stairs. In the meantime, Sheelagh had stood and wandered over to the mantelpiece and Sam followed her. Focused as she had been on Sheelagh herself, she hadn't noticed Abi's little bunny sat on here keeping watch over them. The sight of it made her stomach lurch as she remembered giving it to Niamh in the hospital and the little girl's fingers brushing it eagerly. Then she clenched her jaw. Be strong, Gina had told her, and she damn well had to hold to that today.

Sheelagh reached for the bunny and curled one of its ears around her index finger. 'Can I keep it?'

'It was a present to Niamh,' Sam answered, 'of course you can keep it.'

'I think it would've been her favourite, you know,' murmured Sheelagh, gazing at it. 'She liked you, you could settle her. She felt safe with you. We should've been with her, we should –'

'Hey, hey,' Sam cut in, turning sideways and enveloping her in a hug. 'Come here.'

They stayed like that for a minute or so, the bunny between them, until the door reopened and Siobhan cleared her throat.

'Mum?' she said. 'The car's here.'

What inner reserves of strength Sheelagh was working from, Sam had no idea. She watched with something akin to awe as she straightened her shoulders, sliding the bunny into her jacket pocket and turning towards the door.

'Are you ready?' she asked Siobhan in a completely level tone.

Her daughter nodded tremulously and Sheelagh crossed the room to wrap her arms around her. She'd morphed into the strong mother figure almost in the blink of an eye and if Sam hadn't spent the last few minutes holding her, she might've bought the act. As it was, she remained mindful of how fragile Sheelagh was underneath and shadowed her through the mechanical actions of checking the house was secure and collecting her bag. Only Sam noticed the shake in her step as she crossed the threshold and caught sight of the car holding the tiny coffin and she took the keys from Sheelagh's hands to lock up so that Siobhan didn't see her trembling.

Once the three of them were in the car – Sheelagh in the centre – with the coffin directly in front of them, Sam began to feel sick again. They moved off slowly, probably looking like one of the saddest funeral processions to ever pass through this respectable part of London, just the single car and the small coffin explicitly telling everyone what was going on. More than once Sheelagh shuddered, her shoulder pressed into Sam and away from Siobhan. Discreetly, and without thinking much about it, Sam located Sheelagh's hand slumped between them and entwined their fingers. For the rest of the journey Sheelagh held on as if her life depended on it.

When they arrived at the church June was waiting outside for them. Sam recognised from the way Sheelagh's shoulders set again that she was as intent on holding it together in front of June as she was Siobhan. Sam stepped back and deliberately let her get on with it. She asked June if Patrick was inside but it didn't look as though he'd come. Sam couldn't work out how Sheelagh felt about that, though it was frankly the least of her worries at the moment.

The coffin was gently removed from the car and one bearer took it into the church. Sheelagh slipped an arm around Siobhan's shoulders and ushered her into the church. Sam, however, lingered for a moment, stretching out an arm to stop June going anywhere.

'Is there any news of Des?' she questioned.

June shook her head. 'He stole a radio this morning.'

'If he stays one step ahead and keeps well away then that's fine by me,' Sam retorted. She studied June's face intently. 'Is that all? Nothing else?'

'Nothing,' said June faintly.

Glancing into the church, Sam saw that the coffin had nearly reached the altar. Interrogation of June Ackland would have to wait until later, though she was under no illusions that an interrogation would be necessary. June was a hopeless liar.

With a curt nod, Sam stepped into the gloom of the church. Her shoes clipped on the flagstones and the few mourners dotting the pews looked up with interest. She considered slotting into one of the nearest seats but Sheelagh glanced over her shoulder with thinly-veiled panic on her face and Sam acquiesced to her unspoken plea. She rounded the front pew and sat on the far side of Sheelagh, taking the hand she'd rested on the seat and squeezing hard.

In truth, much of the service passed her by. She wasn't about to be converted, even if the idea of a God who did this to mother and child wasn't repugnant to her anyway. Still, she respected Sheelagh's faith and she spent the duration of the service holding on to her hand and offering whatever silent support she could. She wasn't certain any of it helped but at least she felt as if she was doing something tangible and she battled to keep her own grief well below the surface.

Sheelagh released her hand to support Siobhan back to the car, her gaze fixed on the coffin they were following. Sam trailed behind them, catching June's eye in the back pew and recognising how preoccupied she looked. Even so, she carried on walking, taking her place in the back of the car beside Sheelagh again as they drove around to the cemetery.

Only when the coffin was being lowered into the ground did Sheelagh's composure finally shatter. Stood beside Siobhan just in front of where Sam stood with June, her shoulders began trembling and she let out a few cries that Sam knew she was desperately trying to suppress. Stepping closer, Sam rested a hand on her elbow, just enough to let her know she was there, even if there was nothing she could do.

Then a phone beeped.

Sam pulled back, looking around with everyone else. To her surprise, there was a mobile by her feet. It certainly wasn't hers but the expression on Sheelagh's face when she spun around showed nothing less than incredulous betrayal, especially when she took in as rapidly as Sam did the obvious obbo going on around them involving cars and pedestrians.

'How could you?' Sheelagh demanded.

'I didn't,' she said firmly, dismayed to find her words had no effect. 'Sheelagh, I didn't.'

'I knew you were hiding something from me,' Sheelagh spat. 'I should've guessed. You want to get back in the good books, don't you? How could you betray me like that? You disgust me.'

She punctuated her final words by ripping the stuffed bunny from her pocket and launching it at her. Sam caught it automatically, clenching it tight as the look of disgust on Sheelagh's face rippled through her. She should've argued but the words wouldn't come. It was an unfamiliar sensation to be so many steps behind but she couldn't conjure a sentence to stop Sheelagh storming off down the hill towards the road. The other family mourners slowly followed her.

For a few seconds Sam couldn't move. Then rage bubbled up from her toes and she rounded on June.

'What the hell did you think you were doing?' she asked. 'Why did you let me take the flak for that, hmm?'

June blinked and looked away. 'It wasn't my idea.'

'Letting her blame me was,' Sam returned, aware of her shallow breathing. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Sheelagh reach the car and her heart began hammering. She looked back to June. 'Who knew about this? Who's running the obbo?'

'DCI Ross and DCI Meadows,' June muttered.

'Who else knew?' Sam pressed. 'Who made the call to keep me out of the loop? Come on,' she said angrily, 'I know somebody specifically said not to tell me. Who was it? Jack?'

'Gina,' admitted June after a moment. 'It was Gina's call.'

'Right,' she snapped, spinning on her heel and heading down the incline, the bunny clasped in her hand.

Her intention wasn't to try and follow the procession or even to have a go at DCI Ross plainly visible in a car down there. No, she wanted to get to the person who'd lied to her outright. Gina had caused this; Gina could bloody well fix it.

The nearest taxi rank was ten minutes away. She didn't try hailing a cab, knowing she looked like the sort of madwoman people went out of their way to avoid right now. It seemed to take an interminable length of time before the nick came into view but then she threw some money at the driver and stormed through the front office.

Her first port of call was Gina's office but it was empty. She checked BIU and CAD before going to the canteen on the off-chance. Sure enough, there she was, alone but with the canteen chock full of the relief. Sam didn't care – she strode up to the table and crossed her arms.

'I want a word,' she said.

Gina glanced up, barely surprised. She should've pulled rank but she didn't. Instead, she simply rose and left her coffee, gesturing towards the door. Her deference made Sam's ire rise again and by the time the office door closed a few minutes later she was back at boiling point. Perching on the edge of her desk, Gina looked at her with the kind of inscrutable expression that made constables tremble and was currently having no effect on Sam. That said, she couldn't find the words she'd been rehearsing all the way to the nick.

'This is about the obbo, I take it,' Gina prompted finally.

She snorted. 'How'd you guess?' Before Gina could respond, the words were tumbling out and she was pacing around the small office. 'What were you playing at, hmm? You know she thinks I was in on it? She thinks that I betrayed her. I should've been told,' she went on. 'I asked you outright and you lied to me.'

'What would you have done?' asked Gina calmly.

'I would've told her,' she replied. 'It was her daughter's funeral, Gina! What the hell were you doing? Des was never gonna show up there, he's not that stupid.'

Gina shrugged. 'We had to be sure.'

'Oh, that's crap and you know it,' Sam snapped. 'There's no excuse, not after what she's been through. She's a colleague and a friend, one of the nicest coppers in this nick and you put her through that?'

'It was a viable obbo,' Gina said.

'Rubbish,' she spat. 'You should've told me.'

Shaking her head, Gina answered, 'I couldn't risk it.'

Sam glared at her. 'So it was your choice?'

'You're lucky it was,' Gina returned. 'You're far too close to this, Samantha. Step back and think.'

'Don't patronise me,' she warned.

'With anybody else you'd have gone at this full tilt,' Gina said, 'all guns blazing. I knew you wouldn't be able to do that with Sheelagh so, yeah, it was my choice to keep you out of the loop and I'd do it again.'

The expression on Gina's face shook her. It was something she'd seen time and again recently and she suddenly realised what it was. All the anger draining out of her, she leaned against the nearest wall.

'How long have you known?' she asked quietly.

'Longer than you, I'd wager,' replied Gina. 'Come on, sit down.'

Though she knew she should still be shouting, somehow she couldn't manage it. She edged her way into the chair and rested her head in her hands. A couple of moments later she was finally able to look at Gina again.

'I can't deal with this now,' she said.

'Deal with what?' Gina retorted. After a moment, she questioned, 'Why does Sheelagh think you knew about the obbo?'

'Because June Ackland dropped her phone and I happened to stand on it,' Sam said, rubbing her forehead. 'I couldn't defend myself properly, I didn't know how. You should've seen the look on her face, Gina, she was so... She's never looked at me like that, full of... She thinks I caused her pain, she thinks I betrayed her.'

Gina studied her for a few seconds. 'Then what are you doing here?'

She swallowed and dipped her chin. 'I can't fix this.'

'Course you can,' said Gina briskly. 'You're just bottling it. Remember what I told you, hmm?'

Letting out a soft growl, she replied, 'I'm not trying to look after myself here, you know.'

'Aren't you?'' Gina challenged.

'No,' she said indignantly. 'Me charging down to the wake and muscling in telling my side of it isn't what she needs right now.'

'I don't agree,' answered Gina. 'She needs you.'

Sam absorbed that and conceded the wisdom of it with a half-hearted shrug. 'So what then?'

Tugging her tie off, Gina tossed it onto the desk. 'We get to that wake.'

Though she'd be reluctant to ever admit it, Gina's presence was more than welcome. Sam sat silently while she tied up a few loose ends around the nick and called a cab, her mind racing in a manner she really wasn't comfortable with. Whatever reception she was going to get at the wake, she wasn't looking forward to it. Seeing hatred in Sheelagh's eyes was as crippling as it had been seeing it in Abi's last year and she didn't know how to handle it. Pleading her case with Sheelagh might open a can of worms neither of them were ready to deal with but what was the alternative?

Gina wisely kept quiet during the journey and Sam tried desperately to claw together some words to explain to Sheelagh that she wasn't involved. She thought maybe she should be offended that Sheelagh had jumped to that conclusion but she suspected she would've done the same, especially buried under the layers of grief that Sheelagh was dealing with. No, if anyone had the opportunity to fix that mess on the spot it had been June Ackland and she hadn't had the guts.

They got out of the cab along the road from The Bell and Moon. While Gina paid the driver. Sam scuffed her foot along the pavement and tried to find some of that famous Samantha Nixon attitude to bluff her way through this. Her efforts were tempered by the fact that she knew Sheelagh could see past her mask, though in this case wouldn't that be a good thing? She wasn't sure.

'Come on then,' Gina said.

Sam blinked. She hadn't noticed the cab drive off, let alone that Gina was stood in front of her with her arms crossed looking the epitome of formidable. Any self-respecting copper would've moved on command but her feet were frozen. After a few seconds, Gina's glare relaxed into concern.

'What's wrong?' she asked.

'I'm scared,' she admitted.

'Tell me something I don't know,' Gina returned. 'You'll be better once you're inside.'

'I can't go in there,' she answered. 'Half the nick's there and if she...'

Trailing off, she saw a familiar figure stepping out of the front door of the pub. Sheelagh looked battered and weak, turning her shoulder to the wall then catching sight of them. Sam stiffened as she began walking towards them, wondering if she was about to get a slap in the face or something similar. However, Sheelagh picked up speed and barrelled into her, wrapping her arms around her body and burrowing into her neck. Exhaling, Sam closed her eyes and held her tightly for a moment.

Then she drew back. 'I didn't –'

Sheelagh winced, squeezing her arm. 'It was June.'

'She told you?' Sam questioned.

'She didn't have to,' Sheelagh replied. 'I knew it, I knew you wouldn't do that to me. Sam, I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking.'

'Shush,' she said firmly. Meeting her eye, she drank in the trust in Sheelagh's eyes, more relieved than she had a right to be to see it again. 'Under the circumstances, it was a fair assumption.'

'Of course it wasn't,' said Sheelagh. 'And I threw...'

Her words faded into the air as Sam withdrew the stuffed bunny from her pocket and pressed it into her hands. Sheelagh crumpled it between her palms and let out her breath. Belatedly remembering Gina's presence, Sam cleared her throat and took a step back. She glanced sideways at her friend, relieved to find her poker face on and no hint of her true knowledge seeping through.

Looking back to Sheelagh, Sam asked, 'Do you want to go inside?'

'I've been coming out for air every few minutes or so,' Sheelagh answered. 'I just felt so...'

'I don't know about you but I need a large drink,' Sam said, taking her hand.

Sheelagh let out a pained chuckled. 'Yes, please.'

Sam was aware of the grip Sheelagh had on her hand as they passed into the pub and little else. She was expecting Sheelagh to relinquish her hold as soon as they were in sight of everyone else but she didn't. Instead, Sam led her to the bar, Gina trailing on their heels, and managed to order and pay for drinks for the three of them with only one hand. They lingered at the bar for a few seconds, Sam taking a big gulp of her wine and watching Sheelagh do the same. As the alcohol trickled down into her system, Sheelagh's grip loosened and, finally, she let go. It was more symbolic than anything and Sam sure as hell wasn't about to distance herself. She exchanged a glance with Gina as Sheelagh slowly roused herself and moved to join a table consisting of Marilyn, Reg, Honey, Kerry and Cameron. Gina hung back by the bar with her drink but Sam shadowed Sheelagh, ending up hovering behind her shoulder as some sort of guardian. Though everyone clocked her, no one drew attention to it.

'Thanks for coming,' Sheelagh said to the group.

'It's the least we can do,' Kerry said. 'How are you?'

Sheelagh shrugged. 'I've been so busy organising the service and... I guess it'll hit me when I get home and Niamh's not there.'

It was simplistic but, Sam thought rather ungraciously, it was probably all that PC Kerry Young could handle. Certainly, Sheelagh didn't need to be discussing her inner turmoil with any of this lot – it was far too raw for that.

'Sarge,' Honey said suddenly, 'I wanted to pay my respects to your husband too. Where is he?'

As Sam withheld her grimace, Sheelagh replied, 'Patrick and I are not together at the moment. But we're hoping –'

'Yeah, you know,' Kerry cut in, 'I'm sure when Des has been caught and...'

Kerry trailed off and Sam held her breath. How on earth Kerry knew about Sheelagh and Des was beyond her but she'd certainly picked her moment to bring it up. Sam inched forward further, trying to calm the storm but it was too late.

'Why would that make a difference?' Sheelagh demanded. 'You know, don't you?' Her gaze slipped to Honey. 'And you? So who doesn't know?' Turning around, she called to the pub at large, 'I mean, who doesn't know? Anybody who doesn't know, I'm talking about Niamh's father.'

As she turned back to the table, Sam rested a hand on her shoulder. She wanted to intercede but she didn't know how. There was a difference between supporting Sheelagh and interfering and her head and heart weren't in agreement at the moment. She didn't know the right thing to do and so just shot Kerry Young the most venomous look she could muster.

'How stupid can I be?' questioned Sheelagh. 'Because not one of you, not of you's asked me how he must be feeling today. So if there's anyone who still doesn't know who I'm talking about, it's Des Taviner, he's the father of my child.'

Sam winced and tightened her grip on Sheelagh's shoulder. The rest of the pub was silent, absorbing that shock piece of news then Siobhan muttered, 'Mum...'

Everyone looked to her automatically and she gestured to the door. There was Patrick, dressed in a black suit and tie, and who'd evidently just walked in to hear the repeat announcement that Sheelagh had been having an affair and the baby wasn't his. That seemed to be Sheelagh's limit. She picked herself up from the table and fled in the direction of what Sam assumed were the toilets.

Her instinct was to follow but she found her path blocked. 'Gina, get out of the way,' she warned.

Shaking her head, Gina nodded to Siobhan and Patrick converging and then stepping towards the corridor where Sheelagh had disappeared. 'You need to let them handle it.'

'She doesn't want Patrick,' Sam snapped, 'she wants me.'

The realisation of what she'd said dimmed her desire to rush after Sheelagh. Letting something like that slip in front of her really was worst-case scenario today and Gina was right in one respect – letting Patrick and Siobhan handle it was the right thing to do. Sheelagh had, consciously or otherwise, kept her distanced from both Patrick and the kids for the duration of their friendship. Now wasn't the time to be pushing herself into the frame. It was enough that Sheelagh knew she was here, knew she wasn't involved in the obbo. She'd stay put and hopefully avoid putting Kerry Young's head through a wall.

Gina steered her towards a booth in the corner. The nearest person happened to be June, though she took one look at Sam's face and skulked off in the other direction. Snorting, Gina leaned back against the upholstery and, after a moment, Sam did the same.

'The obbo was down to MIT,' Gina said finally. 'I had no say in it, neither did Jack. I knew if I told you then you'd blow it and the DI's out for your blood as it is. The last thing you want is to be transferred to the back end of nowhere, not when Sheelagh needs your support. Especially since she's the only reason you're still at Sun Hill.'

Sam was staring at her incredulously. 'You did it for me?'

Sipping her drink, Gina questioned, 'Is that so hard to believe? Anyway, I did it for both of you. I don't wanna see either of you leave Sun Hill and I don't want Sheelagh put through anymore pain. She's been through enough thanks to Des Taviner. She couldn't cope with losing you on top of everything else.

Smiling, Sam rested her head back against the wooden rim of the booth and let her eyes drift over the crowd. She'd never been to an Irish Catholic funeral but when the few members of the extended family started singing along to 'Danny Boy' she wasn't entirely surprised. Slowly, the rest of the pub joined in but they were abruptly silenced when another voice floated over from across the bar.

She didn't recognise the song but that didn't matter. Unbidden, she sat forward and listened to Sheelagh's emotional rendition that brought tears into everyone's eyes. Sam couldn't tear her gaze away, the lump in her throat growing with every passing moment. When the song finished there was a breath of silence then one of the relatives put the jukebox on. Siobhan wrapped an arm around Sheelagh's shoulders and steered her out of sight. As the volume levels in the pub rose again, Sam drained her wine.

'Fancy another?' Gina asked.

'Keep 'em coming,' she retorted.

Once there was another glass of red wine in her hand Sam felt a little more secure. Though her instinct was to try and keep an eye on Sheelagh, it was difficult with the bar in the way. Given the day they'd had, she was just relieved to be there, on standby if Sheelagh needed her. In the meantime, getting drunk with Gina was a viable way to pass the time.

Eventually, she repeated her question of the afternoon: 'How long have you known?'

Gina let out a small chuckle and lowered her voice. No one was paying the slightest bit of attention to them anyway and, besides, the Sun Hill lot was across the other end of the pub. Short of going outside into the biting January cold, this was the best place for the conversation, while she was fuzzy-headed enough to countenance it.

'You two have been joined at the hip since she arrived at the nick,' Gina said with a shrug. 'I didn't make it to the heady rank of inspector without noticing when two people spend more time together than not. But if you're asking for specifics...' She smiled wistfully. 'I remember you and me walking through the nick for something or other, it was round about the time of Abi and Matt, I know that much. Anyway, you were brushing people off then Sheelagh asked you something and you stopped, stopped right in the middle of the bloody corridor. I kept my eyes open after that.'

'Surely you didn't...' Sam swilled her wine around her glass. 'That was way back.'

Gina rested her shoulder against the booth and looked at her seriously. 'Are you telling me it wasn't there from the off?'

'No,' she admitted. 'Not that I saw it.'

'Out of interest, when did you?' Gina queried. When Sam threw her a glance she went on, 'Don't look at me like that. I've watched the pair of you for the last year, skirting round it all like a couple of dopey teenagers. The least you can do is fill in the blanks.'

Though she rolled her eyes, she took a long gulp of her wine. It wasn't reticence holding the words hostage for a moment but the recollection of what had triggered her realisation in the first place.

'It was when she told me she was pregnant,' she said quietly. 'It hit me all at once.'

Gina sighed. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to –'

'What?' Sam cut in, gesturing around the pub. 'Rake it up?'

'Fair point,' Gina said. 'Top-up?'

She nodded and watched Gina to the bar, wondering who else might've spotted her feelings for Sheelagh in the last few months. Eva and Gina weren't anomalies – they were part of a pattern. She'd worked with patterns long enough to know when she was falling into one, though it was a bit late to try and extricate herself. Once again, she was struck by the implausibility of Sheelagh failing to recognise the truth. It had to be more like Sam had experienced; nothing less than pure denial. She was dreading the moment it crumpled upon Sheelagh, she really was. She had no clue what it would mean for either of them.

'Hey.'

Sam nearly jumped out of her skin. She'd been so lost in her own thoughts that she somehow hadn't noticed Sheelagh take Gina's seat and felt herself flush at the look of gentle interrogation on her face. If Sheelagh truly could see through her then she'd be in a lot of trouble right now but there was obviously some kind of mental block keeping it at bay. Even so, just being this close to Sheelagh again mixed intoxicatingly with the wine she'd consumed.

'Hey,' she returned softly. 'How are you doing?'

'Ask me tomorrow,' Sheelagh answered. 'I couldn't tell you right now.'

Discreetly, she pressed her hand underneath the cover of the table. 'Anything I can do?'

Sheelagh shook her head. 'Patrick's going to drive me and Siobhan home, she's staying with me tonight then leaving tomorrow sometime.'

'Okay,' Sam said. 'Well, you know where I am.'

'Where you always are,' replied Sheelagh with a watery smile. 'I'm sorry about –'

'Don't you dare,' Sam interrupted. 'We're fine, I promise you.'

'Good,' Sheelagh murmured. 'You know, I don't think I could've done this without you.'

'You don't have to do anything without me,' she said before she could help it. That was the consequence of too much wine and a testy couple of months talking, even if she meant every word of it. In for a penny, in for a pound, she decided, squeezing Sheelagh's hand tighter. 'I mean it. Throw anything you want at me, I'm not going anywhere.'

Something flickered over Sheelagh's face, disappearing so quickly that Sam couldn't get a handle on it. Perhaps it was relief, perhaps it was something she was seeing because she wanted to see it. Only the fact they were in a crowded pub of colleagues and relatives stopped Sam doing or saying something completely inappropriate. When Gina dumped their fresh drinks on the table, she was unutterably relieved.

Sheelagh drew her hand away and stood. 'I'd better go. Thanks for coming,' she added in Gina's direction. 'I don't blame you for the obbo, you know. You didn't lie to my face.' Turning back to Sam, she seemed to hesitate. 'I'll see you.'

'Course,' she retorted with as much of a smile as she could muster. 'Call me, okay?'

Nodding, Sheelagh held her gaze for a few agonising moments then threaded back through the crowd. Sam gratefully reached for the fresh glass of wine Gina had brought and swallowed half of it in one go.

'Steady on,' Gina said as she returned to her seat. 'I don't want to have to drag you home.'

Sam ignored her. 'Lucky she doesn't know you lied to my face.'

'You'll be keeping that one to yourself, I take it?' Gina queried.

Snorting, she said, 'I'll add it to the list of secrets.'

There was a brief silence, punctuated by the occasional burst of noise from across the pub, then Gina asked, 'Have you thought what you'll do now?'

'Drink,' she said shortly. 'Cheers,' she added, raising her glass a touch before taking another lengthy sip and feeling the alcohol course through her.


When she awoke the next morning all she could really remember was drinking with Gina till closing and being pushed into a taxi. Gina must've seen her out at this end and probably into the house since she didn't feel this morning as though she would've been able to do anything as intricate as operate a lock last night. It was lucky Abi had stayed at her friend's because she would've been back in the running for bad mum of the year if she'd stumbled across her in that state.

It took her all morning to consider getting out of bed for more than five minutes and that was only because she needed to eat something. Sat at the kitchen table with a bacon sandwich beside her she tried to control her urge to throw up and miraculously succeeded. She wondered if Gina felt as rough today then got a flash of her friend's level-headed approached to getting her into the taxi cab. No, she'd been relatively sober, looking out for her as she apparently had been for some time. Sam made a mental note to thank her for that when she could see straight.

How Sheelagh was feeling this morning was another thing on her mind but she refrained from calling to find out. For one thing, she felt too delicate to hear Sheelagh's voice. She needed to keep her feelings in check and she wasn't capable of doing that right now. Plus, she remembered that Siobhan and Patrick were probably with her, maybe even the boys as well. It was only right that she should be comforted by them but she wasn't sure she could handle that implicit rejection at the moment. So, instead, she had one of her rare days lounging in front of the television trying to feel human again.

Mid-afternoon, her mobile rang. She swallowed as she read the display and answered it without hesitation.

'Sheelagh?' she said.

'Hi,' Sheelagh murmured in response. Her voice was hard to hear, whipped around by wind. 'I just...'

'Where are you?' Sam questioned when she trailed off.

'It doesn't matter,' said Sheelagh.

Frowning, Sam rose from the sofa, needing movement. 'Of course it does. You sound –'

'I'm fine,' Sheelagh cut in.

'You're not,' Sam answered firmly. 'Listen, tell me where you are and I'll –'

'No,' interrupted Sheelagh, 'please don't. I couldn't if you... Please don't.'

'Okay, okay,' she said, completely confused. 'Can I do anything?'

There was a lengthy silence then Sheelagh muttered, 'No.'

Rarely in her life had Sam felt so helpless. Groping her way back to the sofa, she sat down and listened to the silence on the other end of the line. In interview she was brilliant at reading silences, she excelled at interpreting Abi's tremulous pauses but this one was beyond her. The wind whistled on the other end of the line and she pictured Sheelagh stationary on the pavement, as battered as she'd looked last night outside The Bell and Moon.

'All right,' Sam said finally, 'I don't care what's going on, I really don't. I just need to know you're safe. That's all that matters to me.'

'I know,' Sheelagh replied.

It didn't escape Sam's notice that she hadn't said she was safe and she pinched her nose hard. 'Please, Sheelagh...'

'Don't worry about me,' answered Sheelagh after a moment. 'I just needed to hear your voice. I'll be fine. Bye.'

Before Sam could blink the call had been disconnected. She stared at the phone then tried to call her back but it went straight through to voicemail. Growling, she rang the next person who came to mind.

'Gina, what the hell's going on?' she demanded without preamble.

Exhaling, Gina replied, 'Now, you listen to me. You stay out of this one. You stay at home, you keep clear.'

'Out of what?' she pressed. 'Look, you tell me what's going and I might stay put. Otherwise I might tread on MIT's toes – that is what this is about, isn't it?'

'You're too clever for your own good,' warned Gina.

'No,' she argued, 'I just know how this works. What's happened?'

'Des tried to run Cameron over last night,' Gina said eventually. 'Out behind the pub. He got away but he's a bit shaken up. MIT interviewed Sheelagh earlier, I don't think it went all that well.'

'Why?' Sam asked, though she suspected she knew the answer.

'Do you think she's keeping something back?' Gina retorted.

Sam snorted. 'Right now, even if I did, would I tell you?'

'I'm on your side,' answered Gina. 'Have you spoken to Sheelagh? Has she asked for your help?'

'She called me,' she admitted. 'She sounded upset but she wouldn't tell me where she was. What's the thinking here? That Sheelagh knows where Des is and is putting Cameron at risk by holding it back? Do you really think she'd do that?'

'Not if she was in her right mind,' said Gina. 'You know DCI Ross, he's not the most empathetic copper you're ever gonna come across. If she feels like the job's out to get her then who's to say where her head's at?'

Sam absorbed all that then pointed out, 'None of this is exactly compelling me to stay put.'

Sighing, Gina replied, 'Well, maybe this will. Do you trust her?'

'Yes,' she said without hesitation.

'Then let this play out,' continued Gina. 'Don't wade into the middle of it. I know you want to help but there's nothing you can do. Sit tight,' she advised. 'Don't let your feelings impede your judgement.'

'It's a bit late for that,' Sam muttered as she hung up.

Nevertheless, she heeded Gina's warning. Part of it was because she genuinely didn't know where Sheelagh was and charging around Canley looking for her wouldn't help. Perhaps she was with Patrick and the kids or, perhaps, she was with Des. The thought made her stomach rotate.

Sheelagh's cryptic call had planted the seed that she was going to do something drastic, whether that was on Des's behalf or against him. Given the obbo yesterday, Sam couldn't blame her for being hacked off with the investigation team but what did that mean in reality? Sheelagh was a good copper. She'd said months ago that she wanted to see Des brought to justice for his crimes but, then, she'd kept his secret initially.

No, Sam reminded herself more than once during that long afternoon, that was when she was pregnant and frightened. Under such circumstances anyone would've hesitated and to say Des had wronged her since then was an understatement. How could you love someone you didn't know? That was the recurring question. She didn't truly believe that Sheelagh was still in love with Des but, then, they never discussed it. That was a little too close to the bone as far as Sam was concerned, though it struck her as odd that Sheelagh never brought it up. There were only a limited number of people she could talk to about Des, after all, yet she'd rarely availed herself of the opportunity to mention his name.

Perhaps that was beside the point but it was one of many thoughts that crossed her mind as the January evening drew in. Yes, she trusted Sheelagh but she'd also seen her grief first-hand and she was worried about the toll that might take on her mind. The Sheelagh she'd encountered on the phone earlier wasn't one she was used to dealing with, it was too distant yet infinitely personal. She'd wanted to hear her voice, that was what she'd said. More than anything, as time wore on, Sam took refuge in that thought.

When Abi got home, she looked apprehensive, dropping her bag on the bottom of the stairs then coming through to the kitchen. Sam rose from the table where she'd been staring into a cup of cold coffee and pulled her into a bone-crunching hug that seemed to make both of them feel better.

'How was the sleepover?' Sam asked. 'Are you hungry?'

Abi shook her head. 'How was yesterday?'

'Difficult,' she said honestly, 'but Sheelagh coped really well. I'm proud of her.'

'I thought you might be with her tonight,' Abi said. 'You're back at work tomorrow, aren't you?'

'I've spoken to her,' Sam replied carefully.

It was just her luck that Abi had years of practice at deciphering her tone and frowned at her. 'Is something wrong?'

'I don't know,' she admitted. 'Sheelagh's been under a lot of pressure at the moment and there are things going on I really can't discuss, Abi, but... I'm worried about her, yeah.'

'Then what are you doing sat here?' Abi questioned.

She shrugged. 'I was told to.'

Rolling her eyes, Abi retorted, 'Since when have you done what you were told? Come on, Mum, if Sheelagh needs you then get round there.'

For a few moments Sam just stared at her incredulously then said, 'You just want the telly, don't you?'

Abi chuckled. 'Yes, of course that's what this is about. Go on, Mum,' she urged. 'You want to, I can see it in your eyes.'

Kissing her cheek, Sam grabbed her keys and made for the door. How Abigail had managed to mature so rapidly in the last six months was beyond her comprehension but she decided not to question it. All she knew right now was that she was infinitely grateful she'd raised a smart, intuitive daughter who knew her mind almost as well as she did. Voicing that desire to go to Sheelagh's had at least absolved her from the guilt of having to make the decision herself. She didn't like going against Gina's advice on this one but she wouldn't rest until she'd seen Sheelagh and got some insight into what the hell was going on.

It wasn't only early evening but the traffic had mostly cleared and the roads were coated with a film of ice. She drove carefully and drew up outside Sheelagh's half-expecting to see the house dark and desolate but there were lights on both upstairs and down. Locking the car, she went to ring the doorbell. It only took Sheelagh a matter of moments to answer it, giving the impression she'd been waiting for her. Except, given the surprise on her face, she clearly hadn't been.

'You shouldn't be here,' Sheelagh warned.

Sam was at a bit of a loss, unable to pinpoint the expression on Sheelagh's face. 'Listen, I was worried about you. I had to see for myself that you were okay. You're not,' she added. 'What's going on?'

'You have to go,' answered Sheelagh. Then she blinked and became more like the woman Sam recognised and loved. 'Do you trust me?'

'You know I do,' she said.

'Then go home and give Abigail a hug, tell her it's from me.'

'You're not making sense, Sheelagh,' Sam replied quietly.

Stretching out a hand to her arm, Sheelagh said, 'You'll understand. Now, please, you have to go.'

Confused, Sam managed a slow nod. She held Sheelagh's gaze for a few seconds, seeing the grief and genuine affection mingled with something else – determination. Whatever was going on here, her presence wasn't helping. Usually, she'd be irritated about being forced to back off but if that was what Sheelagh wanted...

'Okay,' she said, 'I'm going.'

'Sam?' Sheelagh's voice brought her back and she found herself dragged into a hug that was over all too soon. Drawing away, Sheelagh kissed her cheek. 'Thanks for checking on me.'

'Anytime,' she answered, struggling to get herself together. 'I'm back at work tomorrow so...'

'I'll call you,' Sheelagh promised.

Reluctantly turning on her heel, Sam was aware of Sheelagh's eyes on her as she returned to her car. Then, casting her gaze over the road, Sam saw a curious sight. She controlled her anger until she was in the car then she drove around the corner and pulled over before jabbing at her phone and nearly breaking the keypad.

'Guv,' she said when Jack answered, 'you better tell me what the hell is going on or I'm going to blow this operation here and now.'

There was a brief silence then he asked, 'Where are you?'

'Parked up on Jessop Close,' she said.

'Give me two minutes.'

When he hung up, she slid out of the car and paced the pavement until he arrived. She couldn't sit still, running it all through in her mind and growing quite indignant at the thought of Debbie McAllister of all people being involved in an obbo on Sheelagh's house when she hadn't even been informed of it.

Jack appeared alone – presumably he'd dropped Debbie off to keep an eye on the house on foot – and Sam slipped into the passenger seat with her arms crossed. Right now, she didn't care that he was her boss, just about the fact that something was going on with Sheelagh that she clearly was excluded from.

'What are you doing here, Samantha?' Jack asked finally. 'I thought Inspector Gold warned you to keep your distance.'

'I don't answer to Inspector Gold when it comes to caring about a friend,' she retorted. 'Never mind me, what the hell are you doing here?'

If he noted her lack of respectful address, he didn't pick her up on it. Instead he drummed on the steering wheel and questioned, 'What did Sheelagh say?'

'She told me to go,' Sam said.

'Did she look like she was waiting for someone?' he pressed.

Sam frowned at him. 'Hang on a second, are you telling me she doesn't know you're here? You're spying on her without her knowledge? After the stunt you pulled at the funeral?'

Jack sighed and rubbed his chin. 'Hear me out, will you?'

'Yeah, I'm waiting,' she snapped then moderated her tone. 'Sorry, Guv.'

'I know you're close to this, Sam,' Jack said with a wave of his hand. 'Listen, Patrick Murphy called Gina this afternoon. He said that Sheelagh had withdrawn two grand from their joint account and he'd found a half-packed suitcase at the house. He thought she might be packing to go somewhere.'

Sam blinked and rested her forehead against her palm. 'You think she's running off with Des.'

'You can see how it looks,' he answered.

'No,' she said firmly, 'no, I don't buy it. Don't forget that he let her believe he was dead while she was pregnant with his child on top of everything else. No one could've prevented Niamh's death but Sheelagh wouldn't feel half as guilty as she does if he hadn't made her dread having her in the first place. She blames him, she's not gonna run away with him.'

'Are you sure about that?' Jack challenged.

'Positive,' she lied. It was far easier to be unequivocal outside of her own head. 'She's just lost one child, Guv, she's hardly gonna walk away from the other three, is she?'

He conceded that with a shrug then asked, 'So do you think she knows we're watching her?'

'After yesterday, I reckon she thinks you're capable of anything,' Sam said. 'Come on, she knows how the job operates. If you had an obbo on her yesterday, why wouldn't you today? Especially when Des has made all these threats against Cameron.' Realising that Jack was watching her with a strange expression on his face, she questioned, 'What?'

'You're saying 'you',' he explained. 'Not 'us'.'

Acknowledging the truth of that, she slumped back into her seat. 'That's how I feel at the moment, Guv.'

'I understand that,' he said sympathetically.

She looked at him sharply and groaned. 'Oh, not you as well.'

'You're not at your most objective, that's all,' he returned, congenially dodging the subject. 'We've all been there, Sam, and you were obviously close to that little girl. That's why Gina wanted to keep you out of the loop on this one.'

For a minute she struggled to gather herself together. Eva, Gina and now Jack – she might as well be walking around with her feelings tattooed on her forehead. However, as usual, it wasn't the most pressing problem. No, that came in the form of CID officers watching Sheelagh's home on MIT's behalf. Jack was certainly right about her lack of objectivity, but that didn't mean she was going to roll over and let them do as they pleased.

'Looking at it logically,' she said finally, 'I've already said that after yesterday Sheelagh's more likely expecting surveillance than not.'

'If that's the case and she's setting Des up,' Jack replied, 'why didn't she just tell us?'

'Because she doesn't trust you,' Sam answered simply. 'And after yesterday who could blame her?'

He scratched his cheek. 'And why not tell you?'

Sam fell silent, the blow briefly striking home. Then she let out a soft chuckle and shook her head. 'She kept me on the doorstep,' she said. 'There was no reason to do that, not unless she was keeping up a front. Besides,' she added, sensing his argument brewing, 'Sheelagh's got this quaint idea I wanna hang onto my job. She probably reckons she's doing me a favour by keeping me out of it.'

'I'm not convinced,' Jack admitted after a few seconds.

'Stop trying to catch her out, Guv,' Sam warned. 'Imagine how you'd feel the day after your baby's funeral and show a little compassion.'

Jack held her gaze briefly. 'Go home, Samantha. Go into work tomorrow and let us do our job.'

Though she reached for the handle, she hesitated. 'Sheelagh's a victim here,' she said. 'Remember that.'

He inclined his head and she realised that was the best she was going to get. Given the unspoken words swirling between them, she suspected she was better off getting out of there while she still could. She needed to be at home to sort this out in her head, even if leaving Sheelagh anywhere near the clutches of MIT was an unappealing thought. But Sheelagh had told her to leave and so had Jack – she'd follow the instruction of one because it happened to coincide with the other. She still wasn't happy about it though.


Going into work the next morning was a shock to the system.

She'd barely got any sleep the night before, ruminating on Jack's words as much as Sheelagh's strange behaviour. In the privacy of her own mind she'd concede that there was something incriminatory about the way she'd acted but Sam still couldn't accept that she'd forgive Des. Too much water had passed under the bridge for that, even if she didn't... More than once, Sam shook that thought away in the early hours and tried to force herself to sleep. Short of knocking herself out with a mallet, she wasn't going to stop her brain racing though.

No news was good news, she reminded herself of that. Gina would've called if the obbo had come to anything concrete, if only to keep her from interfering further. Still, it didn't dampen her feeling of helplessness as she climbed the staircase to CID. She didn't want to be here, not while everything was so up in the air with Sheelagh, but she didn't have a choice.

Settling at her desk, she immediately buried her nose in her paperwork. The monotony was almost therapeutic – until she was summoned into the DI's office, that is. As usual, he didn't ask her to sit down so she was forced to stand to attention like a probationer. It generally irked her but today her patience was already at its limit. One wrong word out of him and she might well say something she'd regret.

'So you're back,' Manson said.

'Yes, Guv,' she answered blandly.

He shuffled papers around on his desk. 'Are you ready to work?'

'Yes, Guv,' she repeated.

'I didn't know if you'd be back in today,' he continued after a moment, looking up with an inscrutable expression on his face. 'I realise there's still a lot going on with the extended investigation.'

Sam had to suppress her smile. It was obvious from the way he was watching her that he hadn't a clue what was going on with Sheelagh and Des and he suspected – quite rightly – that she was in the loop while he wasn't. Of course, he didn't need to know that she'd first stumbled across the obbo then muscled her way into it. No, let him think that she'd been privileged with the information while he was being left in the dark.

'I'm eager to get back to work,' she said.

'Really?' he queried and she could see the irritation flicker across his face. Then he said, slowly and deliberately, 'It surprised me, you know. That an officer so intent on promotion would compromise herself with such an unusual friendship.'

She bristled and knotted her hands behind her back. 'There's nothing unusual about it, Guv,' she said.

'No,' he returned with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. 'Of course not. That's all,' he added, looking back to his paperwork. 'I'll catch up with you on your outstanding cases when I can spare the time.'

Bottling up her response to that on the basis that she was no good to Sheelagh or Abi if she was locked up for jamming his head through the window, she mustered her best false smile and escaped the office. The only saving grace to that conversation was that being out of the loop on the Taviner investigation was killing him and even that wasn't enough to distract her from her incessant worries about Sheelagh.

For much of the day she was left to catch up on her paperwork in peace. Eva was out on a job with Terry so she wasn't subjected to any interrogation from that quarter. Nor did Manson have anything else to say for himself, hiding away in his office like a true leader. As far as Sam was concerned, the day was excruciating. More than once she considered going downstairs on a pretext and talking to Gina but, really, she didn't want any further discussions, veiled or otherwise, with any of the three people who knew her true feelings. If there was news on Sheelagh, she'd hear about it and, in the meantime, she was best not poking that bear.

Late afternoon Reg Hollis came up to pass a case on. Though it wasn't one she'd be able to follow up on until tomorrow now, it certainly struck her as juicy in concept. Uniform had dealt with a smuggler earlier, offering dodgy cigarettes that his son was selling on the streets. The bloke had a sick wife along with the son and wanted to lessen his sentence by cooperating and giving them the higher echelons of the smuggling ring. It could be a big case if the info checked out, just the thing to wipe that superior smile off Manson's face. She took down the relevant details from Reg and did a couple of checks on the system before going across to CSU to have a word with Ramani about the informant's family situation.

On the way there, however, she was derailed by seeing Sheelagh coming out of Jack's office. The complete surprise of it stopped her in her tracks and she was torn between relief and anxiety. After all, the look on Sheelagh's face was hardly promising.

'Sam...' Sheelagh murmured.

Glancing around, she saw the incident room was empty and gestured Sheelagh inside. After she'd closed the door Sam studied her carefully, trying to work out what happened since last night but not actually wanting to ask outright.

Sheelagh sank into a chair and buried her head in her hands. 'What do you know?' she asked.

Sam exhaled. 'I saw the obbo when I left yours last night. Jack warned me to keep clear, just like you did. And I know about the cash withdrawal and the suitcase,' she admitted. 'I'm sorry.'

'And what do you think happened?' Sheelagh queried, looking up.

'I trust you,' she replied simply. 'I told you that yesterday.'

'I don't deserve it,' murmured Sheelagh.

'Listen,' Sam said, checking over her shoulder and then sitting down beside her and taking her hand, 'just tell me what's going on. It might help. And, to be honest, if you don't tell me I'm probably gonna have to barge into Jack's office and drag it out of him.'

Sheelagh let out a soft snort. 'You've been so good to me. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you the truth last night. I didn't want to compromise you and I didn't think you'd leave me alone in the house if you knew the truth.'

'Which was?' she asked carefully.

'I met Des at the cemetery yesterday afternoon,' Sheelagh admitted. 'I agreed to run away with him, go to Spain or wherever. I'd already drawn out the cash and started packing.'

The words seeped into Sam and she struggled with the emotions they'd thrown up. Knowing that Sheelagh had actually seen Des, actually spoken to him, had triggered a spurt of jealousy that she somehow hadn't been prepared for. Following that was a sense of dread that she couldn't easily rid herself of.

'There,' Sheelagh said, 'now you hate me too.'

She shook her head and squeezed her hand. 'Let me tell you what I think happened,' she said, pulling herself together. 'You've been twisted around in there by Jack and whoever else doubting your integrity. I know better than that. I'll say to you what I said to Jack last night,' she continued. 'You're far too switched-on not to know they'd be keeping an eye on you after what they spun at the funeral, okay? Anyway, I can't believe that you were really planning to run away with Des.'

Sheelagh squinted at her. 'Why not?'

'Several reasons,' Sam answered. 'First of all, you've got three teenagers who need their mum fixing their mistakes, just like Abi needs me to fix hers. You're not gonna walk out on them, you couldn't. As for Des...' She trailed off and looked down at their joined hands. 'He treated you terribly, he didn't deserve you and he certainly didn't deserve his daughter. You knew that, you've never forgiven him for it. And,' she continued slowly, 'I don't think you loved him.'

If she wasn't completely mistaken, Sheelagh was as focused on their hands as she was. Finally, she sighed and questioned, 'How can you have such faith in me? I don't even know all that myself.'

'Of course you do,' replied Sam. 'Now, what did you tell Jack?'

Sheelagh inhaled deeply. 'That I kept it to myself in case he didn't go for it.'

'And did he?' Sam asked, suddenly realising she didn't know.

Shaking her head, Sheelagh said, 'He used me as a diversion and lured Cameron into a trap. He's taken him hostage.'

'That's not your fault,' said Sam firmly.

'It certainly feels like it,' Sheelagh answered. 'I've made such a mess of things.'

'No,' she insisted, using her free hand to tilt her chin up and make sure their eyes met, 'you haven't done anything wrong.'

A faint smile flickered across Sheelagh's face. 'You'd defend me if I went on a rampage with a machete, wouldn't you?'

Sam shrugged. 'If you started in the DI's office, I'd shelter you for life. You should get out of here,' she went on a little more seriously. 'I'm nearly done, I could give you a lift.'

'It's okay,' Sheelagh said. 'The DCI's insisting on seeing me home. You might trust me but he doesn't.'

'Want me to have a word?' she questioned. Internally, she was pondering how that conversation would go but she'd risk it for Sheelagh's sake.

Following a couple of steadying breaths, Sheelagh rose, though she still kept hold of her hand. 'I'll be fine. I just want him caught.'

'I know you do,' she answered.

'You're about the only person here who believes that,' Sheelagh returned.

Before Sam could fathom a response to that Sheelagh had released her hand and was halfway out of the room. She watched her go with her stomach swirling. She'd meant all she said but she could've done with saying so much more. Perhaps if she'd said it earlier some of this mess could've been avoided. Des had never loved Sheelagh; he'd never protected her. For however many months that had been Sam's job and if she'd been better at it then she could've... Oh, she didn't know. All she was truly certain of was that her cosy little secret had expanded to Gina, Jack and Eva in the last week and it was only a matter of time before it spread to Sheelagh.

Despite her words to the contrary, she wasn't ready to go home. She went back to her desk and stuck her head back into her paperwork. Around her, most of her colleagues left for the day but she persevered, glad of something to focus on.

She was startled when Gina slumped into a chair beside her, shirt untucked and forehead furrowed. 'Have you moved in up here?' she queried.

Sam dropped her pen and leaned back. 'Thinking about it.'

'Well, hold that thought,' Gina muttered. 'You haven't heard the latest, I take it.'

'Have they found Des?' Sam questioned immediately.

'Jack and Debbie were in pursuit,' explained Gina, rubbing her temple. 'He tried... You're not gonna like this.'

Sam swallowed. 'What happened?'

'They drove Sheelagh home,' Gina said. 'From what we can gather, Des was waiting for her and she agreed to leave with him. Don't worry,' she continued quickly, holding up a hand to stem interrogation, 'it was a ruse and she put in a call to Jack. Whatever happened in the car it ended with Des pointing a gun at Sheelagh by all accounts. She's fine, she's fine. Debbie's bringing her in now.'

Rising, Sam demanded, 'Why didn't you tell me this earlier?'

'I preferred to give you the good news,' retorted Gina. 'She'll be here any minute but the Super wants a word before he lets her go.'

'What about Des?' asked Sam.

Gina shook her head. 'He had Cameron in the boot, he's disappeared with him.'

Sam let out a soft growl and began shutting down her computer. 'Well, what now? We've got a copper out there being held hostage by a murderer. Isn't it about time to get the press involved?'

'If it was down to me...' Gina said darkly. Then she patted her on the arm. 'You wait here, I'll tell Sheelagh where you are.'

Left alone, Sam contemplated the bare details that Gina had told her. The very thought of Des holding Sheelagh at gunpoint made her blood boil, though she did feel vindicated by the fact that Sheelagh had apparently alerted Jack to Des's arrival. It proved her point that Sheelagh was on the right side in all of this, even if she hadn't needed it proving. People like DCI Ross and Superintendent Okaro did though.

Debbie's voice roused her from her thoughts: 'Here she is.'

Sam looked up sharply, finding Debbie leading Sheelagh into CID. Ignoring her fellow DS, she stood up and enveloped Sheelagh in a hug. Showing more diplomacy than Sam would've credited her with, Debbie disappeared back out onto the landing and left them alone.

Drawing back, Sam pressed her palm to Sheelagh's cheek. 'What happened?' she questioned.

'Could you take me home?' Sheelagh returned.

Without a word, she nodded. It only took a moment to gather her things together then she steered Sheelagh out of the station silently. She was relieved to have her there safe, even though she was still fuzzy on the details of tonight's events.

When they reached the car, Sheelagh crumpled into the passenger seat and closed her eyes. Sam took a long look at her then started the engine and began the familiar drive to her house. She was so focused on the road that when the CD player started blaring 'Waterloo' at her she nearly jumped out of her skin.

'I'm sorry,' Sheelagh murmured when she shot her a sideways glance. 'I needed some normality.'

Sam said nothing about the fact that listening to ABBA in her car was apparently Sheelagh's version of normality and simply returned her gaze to the road. It didn't take long to get to the house and then she didn't bother asking what Sheelagh wanted her to do. She locked the car and followed her halting steps up the path, watching her unlock the door with trepidation evident on her face.

'Stay here,' Sam said, resting a hand on her arm as the door clicked shut. 'I'll have a look round.'

She didn't seriously think Des would come back here. Neither did MIT, evidently, or they'd still have an operation going on outside. A quick survey of the house proved fruitless and she returned to give Sheelagh the all-clear. However, she did find a broken panel in the back door where he'd broken in earlier and busied herself with securing that for the night while Sheelagh made them both a cup of tea and warmed some soup through.

'I'll let Abi know I'm staying here,' Sam said when they were settled at the table. Sheelagh looked up but didn't say anything and she chalked that quiet acquiescence up as a win.

They ate the soup in silence then Sam rose automatically to wash up. She felt Sheelagh's eyes on her and sensed she was about ready to talk, though she finished the washing up and made them another drink before she returned to the table. Pushing one cup into Sheelagh's hands, Sam clasped her own cup tight and waited.

'When I came in and saw him sat at this table,' Sheelagh began, 'I thought how he didn't belong. He'd only been in this house once and that was when I told him... He didn't fit, he wouldn't ever fit. Maybe that's why I broke down, realising that. Just one more reminder that all this was... Anyway, I let him hold me and I hated every second of it. I was trapped with him here, I was scared of him.'

Sam clenched her leg muscles to try and combat her urge to speak.

'I had a matter of seconds to put a call into the DCI then I had to get in the car with him. He probably sussed me from the off,' she went on with a shake of her head, 'I've never been a good liar. It only took a few minutes for it all to go wrong. He spotted the tail and told me that Cameron was in the boot. He, erm...'

Reaching across the table, Sam rested a hand on her arm. 'It's okay, you're safe now.'

Sheelagh managed a nod then continued, 'He hit me, handcuffed me then he pulled a gun out.'

Sam knew her grip tightened and tried to mitigate her sudden urge to beat Des Taviner senseless by smiling weakly. That he'd threaten Sheelagh like that, knowing all she'd been through, was unbelievable. What kind of human being did that?

'I'm fine,' Sheelagh assured her, covering her hand and squeezing. 'By this point half the Met was in pursuit, with the helicopter and everything. He drove into a tunnel, under construction as luck would have it. We couldn't get very far, he tried to get the pair of us out but I refused to go with him. For a minute...I got the gun,' she admitted and Sam looked up sharply. 'I wanted to hurt him but I couldn't. I couldn't even stop him.'

'You were on your own in a volatile situation,' Sam reasoned. 'Besides which, you might want to hurt him but you couldn't. You're not like him,' she said firmly. 'You can't sink to his level, you're not capable of it.'

Sheelagh held her gaze for a few moments then inclined her head. 'After this last year I don't know who I am anymore.'

'Well, I know exactly who you are,' Sam retorted. 'If you need a reminder let me know. In the meantime, try not to worry about Cameron. Des is acting like a petulant teenager but he's not a cold-blooded killer. He couldn't look in Cameron's eyes and shoot him, anymore than you could pull the trigger on him.'

'He killed six police officers,' Sheelagh reminded her.

'By accident,' said Sam. 'Listen, I honestly don't believe he'll hurt him. Des is grieving by getting angry, probably because he knows he hasn't the right to feel bereaved at all. Cameron's an experienced officer, he can handle himself and he knows he did nothing wrong.' Sipping her tea, she grimaced and questioned, 'Don't suppose you've got anything stronger, have you?'

With a wry chuckle, Sheelagh dragged herself up and pulled a bottle of red wine from a cupboard then retrieved two glasses. 'Do you want to take these through to the living room?'

'You go on,' Sam said, digging out her mobile. 'I'll give Abi a call then we can barricade ourselves in.'

As she'd suspected, Abi was fine with her staying out once she knew what it was in aid of, though Sam once more got that bizarre sensation of a mother/daughter role reversal. Even so, she was grateful for Abi's maturity at the moment – it more than made up for the hormones ricocheting through her body at the very thought of another night in Sheelagh's house. She knew it wasn't right, she knew she was grieving and was still dealing with the repercussions of one bad decision from ten months ago, but all Sam could think of right now was how beautiful she was. Perhaps it was hearing that Des had hurt her that made Sam want to soothe her, physically and emotionally. On balance, opening a bottle of wine with Sheelagh really wasn't the best idea. Nevertheless, she joined her in the living room and sat down beside her on the sofa.

'Thanks,' she said as Sheelagh passed her a glass. After taking one sip she felt a little bit braver and managed to ask one of the questions that had been tickling the back of her mind for a while now. 'What did Patrick say at the wake? Have you made any decisions?'

Sheelagh cleared her throat and took a gulp of her own wine. 'It feels like an eternity ago now, when we had that meal the night of...' She trailed off and Sam rubbed her shoulder. 'He'd had time to calm down after all the shocks and he wanted to give it another go.'

It took all Sam's self-restraint to mask her dismay at that. She schooled her expression towards friendly interest and asked, 'How do you feel about that?'

'To be honest, I was...' Sheelagh shrugged and sipped her wine. 'Oh, I don't know. I wanted to be happy, I really did, but it was strange, as though I was clinging onto something that wasn't there anymore. I'm not saying I love Des,' she went on quickly, 'just that I don't love Patrick, not in the way I did. He'd given in, I think. He was willing to put up with Niamh for the sake of the kids but it wouldn't have worked like that. And now...' She shook her head. 'The other night he said he still meant it, that we could make a go of it. That'd feel like erasing Niamh from history, whatever he says.'

Sam suddenly became aware that her hand was still resting on Sheelagh's shoulder and she reluctantly withdrew it. 'You have to follow your heart,' she said finally. 'Not straight away, you've got to let the dust settle.'

'Or you have to trust your gut,' answered Sheelagh, looking sideways.

Conceding that with a half-smile, Sam cautioned, 'It'll still be telling you the same thing in a week, you don't have to make any decisions this minute.'

The expression in Sheelagh's eyes was unfathomable. After a moment she blinked and refocused on her wine, the silence settling around them. Sam wondered if she should try and break it but, really, she didn't quite know where the conversation would go and it was better to hold off than get embroiled in anything, especially tonight. So they drank their wine in silence, companionably but with more hanging between them than Sam suspected Sheelagh recognised.

Eventually, she checked her watch, surprised to find it was nearly eleven. 'I should get some sleep,' she said. 'We've got Customs coming in first thing to discuss a smuggling op. Are you still sleeping down here?' she queried.

Sheelagh nodded. 'Unless the kids are here. Declan's back tomorrow for a few days so I should try and get a good night tonight.'

'It's not sustainable,' Sam pointed out.

'I know,' Sheelagh replied. 'Oh, there's a new toothbrush under the bathroom sink.'

Sam tilted her head to the side but repressed the words itching to erupt. Instead, she simply smiled and stood up, stretching out. She deliberately didn't look back as she left the room, uncertain of how best to end this evening. It had certainly been a strange one.

Climbing the stairs, she went straight into the bathroom and got herself as ready for bed as she could. When she emerged, she hesitated on the landing but realised going back downstairs was a bad idea. However, going into the master bedroom she found Sheelagh ambling around closing the curtains and switching the light on. Sam halted on the threshold, uncertain of how to handle this. Her heart was urging her forwards but her more practical head was keeping her rooted to the spot. All she was really aware of was how insanely right this felt to her.

'Sorry, sorry,' Sheelagh said as she turned around. 'I just remembered I needed my blanket from up here.'

Sam's mouth was too dry to speak. She forced herself to step away from the door nonchalantly, all the while curling her toes painfully into her shoes to stop herself doing more than that. This was highly inappropriate, not something she should even be thinking about when Sheelagh was currently having the year from hell.

Sheelagh stopped beside her and rested a hand on her arm. 'Thanks for staying tonight.'

'Don't be silly,' Sam said, dismayed that her voice came out a whisper. It was the close proximity and looking at the curve of Sheelagh's fingers against her arm; it was intoxicating beyond belief. As much as she'd tried to ignore her very real physical attraction to Sheelagh in recent weeks, it wasn't going away.

'Are you all right?' questioned Sheelagh.

'Shouldn't I be asking you that?' she retorted.

A faint smile crossed Sheelagh's face. 'Remind me to weasel it out of you at some point.'

'You'll remember,' Sam said quietly.

'I'll let you get some rest,' Sheelagh murmured, patting her arm before detaching herself and slipping through the open door. The stairs creaked as she walked downstairs, excruciatingly slowly.

Sam pushed the door closed and rested her forehead against it. She hated herself for being so weak. On the one hand she recognised she was being strong – holding back was the right thing to do – but on the other she realised she was being cowardly. She wanted this so much and she had no intention of going after it, whatever she felt and whatever Sheelagh felt. It was incomprehensible.


'Sam? Sam?'

She jolted awake, more alert than she'd ever been quite so quickly. Yet she didn't open her eyes. There was the thought tickling the back of her mind that this was all a wonderful dream, that the warmth of Sheelagh's breath on her chin was all part of a vivid illusion that would disappear if she opened her eyes.

'I brought you coffee,' Sheelagh said, stroking her cheek. 'Wake up, come on.'

Inhaling deeply, she risked opening her eyes. She was instantly disappointed she did because Sheelagh withdrew her hand, though she was rewarded by her sitting beside her on the bed. From the look of her, she'd managed more sleep than Sam had expected her to and that thought brought a smile to her own lips. Altogether, this was a wonderful way to wake up.

'What time is it?' she questioned.

'Just after seven,' answered Sheelagh. 'If you're hungry I can make you some breakfast.'

'If that means you eat some...' Sam sat up and reached for her coffee, aware of the blankets slipping away and grasping at them with her free hand. She was wearing her work shirt underneath but she felt self-conscious all at once and put the coffee down without touching it. 'Breakfast would be brilliant. I'll have to call in home to get changed before I go to the nick but I won't have time to get anything there.'

'I'll fix you something,' Sheelagh said. 'You get dressed.'

Sam watched her out of the room then flopped back onto the pillow and suppressed her groan. She couldn't work out whether this was the best thing she'd ever experienced or the most tortuous. Perhaps the most important things in life were both.

Going downstairs ten minutes later, as fresh as she was likely to be in yesterday's clothes, she found Sheelagh cooking bacon on the grill with Radio 2 playing in the corner.

'There's more coffee on the table if you guzzled that one down,' Sheelagh said.

'Course I did,' she replied.

It was good to see Sheelagh a little more herself as she delivered bacon sandwiches to the table then sat down opposite with a glass of orange juice and a relatively calm expression on her face. No matter what had happened – and, indeed, was happening – beyond this kitchen, she was more at peace in this moment than Sam had seen her for a while.

'What's this smuggling op?' Sheelagh questioned before biting into her sandwich.

'Could be a good one,' she answered. 'Fella with a sick wife turned grass. If his info checks out, we're looking at a multi-million-pound smuggling ring. Course,' she added with a wry smile, 'the DI's probably already seeing commendations in the air. I'll be lucky if he hasn't reassigned me to investigating littering by the time I get in there.'

Sheelagh chuckled. 'Better not be too long then.'

'No,' she agreed but made no attempt to rush her breakfast. She was determined to enjoy this time, the illusion of having a happy, normal morning with Sheelagh before rushing off to work. It wasn't likely to be an illusion she could repeat very often so she might as well make the most of it.

By the time she'd finished her coffee it was quarter-to eight and she'd really have to rush to get home and get into the nick on time. Regretfully, she stood and collected her bag from the hallway before hovering by the front door.

'I'll be fine,' Sheelagh said, misinterpreting her reticence. 'Like I said, Declan's back tonight. I'll be safe and if I hear anything from Des, I'll call you.'

'I hope that means me and not CAD,' Sam returned with an arched eyebrow.

Sheelagh simply smiled and opened the door. 'Go smash a smuggling ring.'

'Well, since you asked nicely...' Sam imprinted the memory of Sheelagh seeing her off to work onto her mind then crossed the threshold. 'I'll see you,' she said.

Given how distracted she was, it was a miracle she made it home to get changed and then into work in one piece. It was an effort to focus on work matters as she walked through the door, though that was made marginally easier by seeing that Eva wanted to talk to her as she put her bag down. The look on her face suggested it wasn't about a case so she made a beeline for Manson's office.

He glanced up from his desk in irritation. 'Was beginning to think you'd taken the day off.'

'I notice Phil isn't in yet,' she said politely, gratified to see a flicker of anger in his eyes about an innocuous comment he couldn't criticise. 'Have we spoken to Customs yet, Guv?'

'Yeah, they'll be here any minute,' he answered. 'In the meantime, you and Terry talk to the informant again, get what you can and report back to me.'

'Guv,' she muttered.

Picking up Terry from his desk, she went down to interview Morris Tucker. As far as concrete information went, it was pretty useless but she got the impression that the essence of what he was saying was accurate. Not that she supposed her gut feeling would mean much to Manson but she didn't entirely mistrust it herself yet.

The chat with Customs basically confirmed how little they had. It irked her that, naturally, Manson knew the officer they'd sent over and so he was agreeing with him by default. They needed corroborating evidence and Manson warned not to bother with Tucker once he was bailed unless he came up with some more information. That struck Sam as stupid since he was their best lead so far and when she led Tucker through the front office, she warned him not to forget that he'd promised to come through for them.

'And when you get something, you bring it to me,' she added. 'No one else – me.'

Returning upstairs, she located Terry in the evidence room. When she asked him if he wanted to come down to Canley Transport with her, he pointed out he'd been tasked earlier to clear the fridge of samples.

'Well, I'll square it with him,' she told him. 'Look, we need to corroborate what Morris has already given us, don't we?'

'I thought I heard the guvnor say to leave it,' Terry replied.

'Come on,' Sam said persuasively, 'you don't really wanna bag and tag lab samples all day, do you?'

'No,' he admitted.

She grinned and gestured to the door. A few minutes later they were on their way out of the nick.

As they were sat outside Canley Transport checking out the comings and goings the talk turned to the DI. Apparently, in the week she'd been off helping Sheelagh, Manson had turned up the heat on Eva. Sam suddenly felt guilty for dodging her earlier – she was meant to be her sergeant and her friend; the likelihood was that Eva needed her support right now.

'You know what the problem is, don't you?' Sam queried after a few minutes of silence. 'Small-man complex.'

'I wouldn't know about that,' Terry answered. 'He's ambitious, cares about results, regular DI material in my book.'

She glanced at him sharply. 'Are you saying I was like that?'

He was saved the trouble of responding when some men came into view in the yard and he busied himself with calling for a PNC check. Sam, meanwhile, took some pictures, though she was mentally stewing over Terry's unspoken criticism. She knew she'd changed gradually over the last year thanks to Sheelagh but perhaps she was the only one who'd seen it. That said, a DS who was 'regular DI material' wouldn't take a week unscheduled leave to care for a bereaved friend. That was the difference between her and Manson and she didn't mind that one bit.

They finally got back to the nick after a bit of surveillance on the fella that had turned up at the yard and CID was a hive of activity, including some additional investigators from Customs. Grabbing Ken, she asked him what was going on.

'There's a shipment coming in overnight,' he explained. 'Tucker brought us a location for delivery in the morning.'

'Well, if Morris came through, why wasn't I told?' she questioned. His hesitation was all the response she needed. 'I know exactly why,' she muttered. 'He wants the glory. He's having it all for himself.'

It bothered her, of course it did, but maybe that was more because she was still ruminating on Terry's implications from earlier. She needed to decide on a direction right now because, the way she saw it, she could either go full-speed at the job or she could... If there was a choice, she knew exactly what she'd pick. But there wasn't, was there?

Mid-afternoon she was in BIU when Manson stuck his head through the door and she battled the urge to slam it shut on his skull. Perhaps sensing that, he stepped into the room and let the door slam.

'Did you tell Terry to leave the lab samples and go out on this custom thing instead?' he demanded.

'Yeah, sorry,' she replied. 'I meant to square it with you, I forgot.'

He crossed his arms. 'So the fridge is backed-up because you didn't deal with it as Acting DI? And now you're stopping me from sorting it out.'

Bristling at that, she pointed out, 'I thought it was more important to corroborate the customs job.'

'I told you not to do that,' Manson snapped. 'I said wait for Morris to bring us something.'

'Terry and I tracked Phil Hatton to The Nerve Club in Halpin Street,' she said. 'We corroborated what Morris told you. We weren't wasting our time.'

'I never said you were wasting your time,' Manson retorted. 'I said you were doing what I told you not to.'

As she moved to leave, Sam questioned, 'I saw Customs were here. Are we mounting a joint-op?'

'Yes,' he said shortly.

'Am I part of it?' she pressed.

'You're part of it if you're part of my team,' he answered. 'And that means acting like part of my team and not doing what you think is best. Right?'

'Right,' she echoed.

As he stomped out, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. In fairness, it hadn't been her intention earlier to usurp his authority, she'd just seen an opportunity to investigate and taken it. That said, it had gone against his direct order to wait and see if Morris Tucker came up with anything and she'd persuaded Terry to leave the samples without much of a thought. She'd made a judgement call on what was important, disregarding Manson's dictatorial judgement call from the morning. Just because she still thought she was right, it didn't mean Manson did or ever would. No, if there was one thing she was learning about Neil Manson it was that he wanted to micro-manage everything, all the better to manipulate it.

For the rest of the afternoon she was chasing up loose ends on old cases and trying to get herself back in the groove of CID. She was fairly successful but she did wish she'd had a chance to speak to Eva before she left for the day. From what she could gather, she was in court all afternoon and so Sam's apology for avoiding her earlier would have to wait.

On her way of the nick Sam stopped by Gina's office. She found her friend busy but preoccupied by something other than her paperwork. Motioning Sam inside, she rubbed at her eyes.

'No news on Cameron then?' questioned Sam.

Gina shook her head. 'MIT have been running it quietly, utilising Barton Street officers on our patch. They don't trust anyone in this nick, not even me.'

'All people know is that Des is on the run,' Sam said after a moment. 'If they knew why then it'd be a different story. No one round here would want to shelter him.'

Conceding that with a shrug, Gina said, 'I wish it was my call. How's Sheelagh doing?'

'I stayed over there last night,' replied Sam. 'She was shaken up but she's tough.' Seeing the way Gina was looking at her, she added, 'Take your mind out of the gutter, would you?'

'You never answered my question the other night,' returned Gina. 'What are you going to do long-term?'

'I'm not gonna do anything,' she said, earning herself an incredulous look. 'What?'

'You have to be joking,' Gina said.

Sam crossed her arms. 'What would you suggest?'

Gina frowned and replied, 'Talk to her for crying out loud!'

Snorting, Sam retorted, 'And how do you think that'd go, hmm? She's grieving, Gina. She just buried her daughter, not to mention the fact that Des is still out there terrorising her after all he's done.'

'Those wounds'll heal,' said Gina. 'She needs your help.'

'Of course I'm gonna help her,' Sam snapped. 'What do you think I'm trying to do?'

After checking her watch, Gina dug into her bottom drawer. Keeping that poker face on that she was so damn good at, she poured two glasses of whisky and nudged one of them across the table. Sam's ire lasted only as long as it took for the prospect of alcohol to permeate her brain and she reluctantly sat down and reached for the glass.

'I told you to be strong for her,' Gina said finally. Before Sam could reply, somewhat indignantly, she continued, 'You have been, I'm not denying that. But now the worst of it's over, you're using it as an excuse not to deal with it.'

'The worst of it isn't over,' she argued. 'How can it ever be over?'

'All right, that was a bad choice of phrase,' Gina admitted. 'What I mean is, now she's dealt with the funeral she might be able to –'

'What?' Sam cut in.

Gina inhaled deeply and sipped her whisky. 'You said it hit you when she told you she was pregnant. That was months ago and you've sat on it.'

'Hardly,' she replied.

'How else would you describe it, hmm?' Gina challenged.

'When was I supposed to bring it up?' Sam demanded. 'She told me she was pregnant, that she'd had an affair. She needed my support, someone to look after her while Des was shredding her life to pieces.'

Nodding to the glass, Gina said, 'Keep drinking.'

She took another gulp then went on, 'I had to be a friend, I couldn't let what I was feeling get in the way. I just had to be there. The next thing, you're telling me that Des was involved in the fire and he fakes his own death. Meanwhile, Sheelagh's telling Patrick their marriage is over. I took her home with me that night,' she continued, staring into her glass. 'She was in bits, Gina. Picking herself up after that was so hard but she did it.'

'With you to help her,' said Gina softly.

'Yes,' she ground out, unsure why that one word made her feel so uneasy.

Gina settled back in her chair and loosened her collar. 'You know, I've never seen two people more suited to each other, happier together, than you two.'

'Don't,' Sam warned.

'You want me to sugar-coat it?' Gina queried.

'No, I don't wanna talk about it,' she returned. Draining her glass, she stood, 'I should get home.'

'Wait.' Gina's voice was so firm that she looked back instantly, disarmed by the level of understanding in her eyes. 'The night Juliet died – do you remember it?'

Sam winced. 'Of course I do.'

'You were in here,' went on Gina with a small smile, 'you and Sheelagh. I got back and I found you sat there together,' she said, gesturing to the seat Sam had just vacated. 'You remember that?'

'Yes,' she muttered. She knew exactly what Gina was referring to and precisely how right it had felt in that moment. 'What of it?'

Sighing, Gina asked, 'What have you told yourself? That you're letting her carry on blind because it's the right thing to do?'

'It is,' Sam replied. 'She couldn't deal with the ramifications of this, she couldn't –'

'She loves you too,' interrupted Gina.

Hearing the words aloud made her wobble on the spot. She pressed her palm flat against the door then groped for the handle. 'I'll see you tomorrow,' she murmured on her way out of the office.

Thankfully, Gina didn't try to stop her. Perhaps she sensed that she'd had her fill for today and couldn't take any further interrogation. Either way, she made it out into the icy night without impediment and crumpled into her car.

The last thing she should do tonight was visit Sheelagh and, luckily, she didn't have to. Switching on the engine to get a little heat into her bones, she pulled out her phone and scrolled down her recent call history. She took a few moments to steady her nerves before putting the call in.

'Hi,' Sheelagh said when she answered, 'are you okay?'

'I'm fine, I'm fine,' she said. 'Is Declan with you?'

'He's in the house if that counts,' Sheelagh said.

'It'll do,' Sam retorted. 'In that case, I won't come round, I just wanted to check in.'

'I don't suppose there's any news on Cameron?' Sheelagh questioned.

'Not yet,' she said. 'I think no news is good news, hold onto that.'

'And your smuggling op?' pressed Sheelagh after a pause.

'I'll tell you about that over a drink sometime,' Sam said. 'Call me if –'

'I will,' Sheelagh cut in. 'You get home, you sound cold.'

'I'm getting warmer,' she answered with a soft smile. 'Goodnight.'

Pocketing the phone, she couldn't help the spasm of longing that passed through her body. Gina might've been blunt about it but she was undoubtedly right. Just because she'd put off looking at the truth directly, it didn't mean it didn't exist. She knew Sheelagh felt the same way about her, not that it changed a damn thing.


The next morning she made sure to be in work early. However, everyone seemed to know something she didn't. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she sat down at her desk and tried to concentrate on her paperwork until someone deigned to tell her otherwise. She'd been there for about twenty minutes when Ken dropped a file on her desk.

'Coming to the briefing, Sarge?' he asked.

'I didn't know there was one,' she admitted.

Before Ken had the chance to respond, Manson walked out of his office. 'Okay,' he called, 'French Customs have just confirmed the load – eight million cigarettes. Let's go.'

As a group, everyone moved towards the doors, except Sam. She didn't know what to do.

Manson turned around. 'Samantha, what are you doing?'

'I'm not really sure, Guv,' she answered. 'Am I part of this?'

'Course you are,' he said curtly. 'You set it up.'

Without another word, he left. Sam rose slowly and exchanged a look with Ken who had lingered alongside her. He didn't look particularly happy with the situation but, then, he was one of the good guys. At least he recognised when something was patently unfair.

The briefing was rapid under the circumstances. The plan was to allow the lorry to make its journey into Sun Hill, expecting it to go straight to the club as per their info. However, Manson explained they'd have backup at Canley Transport just in case and that's where Sam would apparently be with Terry. Irritated as she already was, that was the impetus she needed to approach him at the end of the briefing.

'Guv, is there any particular reason I'm not in at the arrests?' she asked.

'We need a DS at the haulage yard and you're it,' he answered.

'Well, I feel like I'm being kept out of the action,' she told him.

Manson watched her steadily, in a way that made her blood boil further. 'I need to know all the bases are covered, Samantha.'

'You asked me if I wanted to be part of this team,' Sam said. 'And I do. But an equal part, not a reserve.'

'You are an equal part,' Manson replied. 'An equal part at Canley Transport. All right?'

What choice did she have? On the face of it, his actions probably looked reasonable. But there was nothing about his way of doing things that was accidental. Eva had seen it, Debbie too. If you happened to have the wrong set of chromosomes around here then you were suddenly relegated to the third division.

Travelling to Canley Transport, she was aware of Terry's silence. It wasn't until they were in position and had clocked the targets in the yard that she decided to push him on it.

'So, did the DI have a go at you about the lab samples?' she questioned.

'Not really,' he said.

'He had a go at me,' she said.

'Look,' Terry replied, 'this is about who's in charge, there's no contest as far as I'm concerned because he is.'

Sam tapped the binoculars on her lap. 'Well, one minute he's saying I'm putting this together and the next he's side-lining me. That's random management.'

'I think it's very focused,' Terry commented.

She looked at him. 'How'd you work that out?'

'Because he's got you worrying about what keeps him happy,' he explained. 'If I was him, I'd call it a result.'

Sam absorbed that then acknowledged the wisdom of it with a slight shrug. Manson had managed to exclude her and make her feel crap at her job since she got back off leave and the word on the grapevine suggested he'd done the same to Eva in her absence. Terry was right – this was all part of the manipulation and she'd come close to falling for it.

Their job was to stay on Hatton at the yard but he looked to be staying put and the lorry was apparently on course to deliver to the club. It was all set-up to be a fruitless obbo for her and Terry until Manson radioed that they'd pulled the lorry over and it was empty. At the same, Hatton got into his car. When they passed that on Manson ordered them to stay with Hatton. However, as the car moved off ahead of them Sam saw Morris Tucker hovering in the yard suspiciously.

'Wait,' Sam said as Terry started the engine. 'Follow Morris.'

'You heard the guvnor,' Terry argued.

'Follow Morris!' Sam insisted. 'Now!'

Though he evidently didn't like it, he obeyed her as the sergeant who happened to be in the car. Sam was suddenly so sure about this, sure that there was something about Tucker's behaviour that struck her as dodgy. It wasn't something she'd be able to put into words and she was crossing her fingers that it wouldn't come to that.

Unfortunately, luck wasn't on her side. The only thing her hunch brought them to was Morris Tucker arguing with his son and when Manson radioed in for an update and discovered they hadn't followed his orders his fury was practically bouncing over the airways.

The journey back to the nick was made in silence. For all his calm exterior, Sam knew Terry wasn't looking forward to this anymore than she was. Nevertheless, she wasn't one for backing down and her instinct was to front it out with Manson. She'd gathered enough anger at the universe and specific people in it to merit holding her nerve for one roasting from a jumped-up DI.

As soon as they were inside his office, Neil questioned, 'Where did you lose Hatton?'

Terry glanced to Sam then answered, 'At the haulage yard, Guv.'

'No, that was the start point,' Manson said. 'How could you lose him there?'

This was her mess and she was going to take responsibility for it. Steeling herself, she stepped forward. 'We didn't follow Hatton, Guv. We, erm, followed Morris Tucker.'

'You're telling me you chose to follow Tucker instead of doing what I asked,' Manson said coldly.

'Well, I made a decision based on events as they occurred on the ground,' she replied.

'Tucker's not a target, Hatton is,' he reminded her.

'Morris was acting suspiciously,' Sam said.

'Oh, so you followed him!' Manson said derisively. 'And what did you get?'

Sam withheld her wince as she muttered, 'Nothing, unfortunately.'

'Because Hatton was the target,' he growled. 'This was a million quid's worth of evidence at stake. What am I supposed to say to Customs now? My DS had a hunch and, oh, by the way, it was wrong? Get out,' he spat. As they both spun to leave, he added, 'Not you, Samantha. You stay there, stay there.'

She could feel Terry's relief radiating across the office as he made his escape. She set her jaw as Manson glared at her from across the desk. It wasn't the time to be remembering that this used to be her office, nor that she believed it was still rightfully hers.

'You're on a tight leash from now on,' he said, 'a very tight leash. You go where I go and you work on what I tell you to do until this mess is sorted out.' A knock on the door interrupted his tirade and he snapped, 'What?'

'Connor is ready to interview, Sir,' Ken said. 'He's waiting for you.'

Unsurprisingly, Ken made a quick exit having passed on his news and Manson rounded the desk, coming far too close for Sam's liking. She didn't want to be anywhere near him.

'You do not leave this nick without my say-so,' he said.

'That's totally impractical,' she answered. 'I cannot do my job unless I –'

'No complaints, no complaints,' he broke in. 'You brought this on yourself.'

He stomped out of the office, leaving her almost paralysed with anger. She could feel her cheeks burning and made an effort to master her blush before she turned around and walked stiffly out of CID. How much the rest of the nick knew about this mess was anyone's guess but without Sheelagh to turn to in the station she felt a bit exposed. Going downstairs via the front office, she settled outside in the frigid air and closed her eyes. She needed to calm down more than anything else; she still had a few hours of this hell to go. Checking her phone, she contemplated calling Sheelagh but that would be for her benefit and she was meant to be putting Sheelagh first. Besides which, she needed to wean herself away from contacting Sheelagh when she needed solace. It wasn't going to help in the long run.

With that in mind, she forced herself to return to her desk. Keeping her head down, she laboured on her paperwork and ignored the unsubtle whispers of her colleagues with gritted teeth.

'There you are,' an unwelcome voice said suddenly. 'I want you with me at the hospital. Connor was released and promptly lost his kneecaps.'

'Yes, Guv,' she muttered.

Really, the prospect of leaving the station with him was worse than being desk-bound for the rest of her career. The atmosphere in the car was colder than the Arctic but she wasn't compelled to try and fix the problem. That would involve accepting she was wrong and he was right – that wasn't happening, whatever he threw at her. Then she grimaced at her reflection in the side window: there was one thing he could do to her which could and would hurt like hell. On his first day he'd tried to edge her out of Sun Hill and away from the only reason she'd decided to front this out in the first place: Sheelagh. It always came back to Sheelagh.

At the hospital they interview Connor about switching the trailers on the lorry. Apparently, he'd tried to double-cross his boss though, of course, he wasn't eager to put Barry Fox in the dock for it. Between them, she and Manson tag-teamed him, pressing him on how he knew they were waiting for the lorry in the first place.

'It was Morris,' he admitted. 'Morris Tucker.'

Although vindicated, she barely spared a look for Manson. Her hunch was spot on, like most of her damn hunches, even if she'd now concede she hadn't gone about it in the right way. The trouble was, Manson had gone to great lengths to trip her up lately. His attitude towards Sheelagh after Niamh's death certainly hadn't helped matters, not had him highlighting their 'unusual friendship' the other day. How they were supposed to work together was beyond her but her leaving Sun Hill was out of the question.

Manson was as quiet as she was on the drive round to the Tuckers' house. She didn't expect an apology so she wasn't disappointed. However, when they got there, they found Craig Tucker battered with the house upside down and no Morris in sight. In subdued tones, he told them that three men had been round looking for his dad about some money and agreed to give them Morris's mobile number.

While Manson was content to get that and go, Sam wasn't. She sat down at the table beside Craig as he struggled with writing the number down and spoke to him gently. 'You saw your dad today, didn't you?' she asked. 'I know you did, Craig, and you were arguing, weren't you? What was that about? My colleague said you row about your mum. Was it about that? Craig?' she pressed softly.

Craig dropped his pen loudly. 'He takes it out on her when he's mad with me.'

'And why was he mad with you today?' she questioned. 'When you saw him.'

'Because I wouldn't give him his passport,' Craig replied.

She held his gaze reassuringly. 'Why did he want his passport?'

'Because he said he had a rush job to Holland,' muttered Craig.

'So why didn't you give it to him?' she asked.

'I did in the end,' he said, obviously hating himself for it. 'He threatened Mum. But I didn't want to.'

'How come?' Manson queried from the side-lines and Sam wanted to throttle him again. If Craig had clammed up, she might well have done it but, thankfully, he didn't.

'Because there was no Holland job,' Craig said finally. 'I rang his work – they didn't know what I was on about.'

Before they left him there Sam made sure the house was secure while Manson huffed impatiently by the front door. By the time they stepped back outside he'd obviously been thinking along the same lines as she had.

'If Fox finds Morris before we do, we'll never find him – ever,' he pointed out.

'Well, then, let Fox do the work,' Sam replied. 'You and I can keep an eye on him, Ken can keep an eye on Hatton and when they find Morris so will we.'

'Okay,' Manson said as he pulled open the car door. 'Phone Terry.'

She was irked that, when she got through to him, he refused to do anything she told him until he'd had it okayed by a higher power.

'He won't do it until he's spoken to you,' she said, holding phone out to Manson and despising the amusement on his face.

'Music to my ears, Terry,' he said into the phone. 'We do it together, we might do it right. Good man.'

Glancing at him, she wanted once more to wrap her hands around his neck but she combated it by focusing on that image of Sheelagh seeing her off to work from yesterday morning. It was enough to keep her distracted as they set up the operation and she pretty much ignored Manson entirely until they were watching Fox outside the club.

'What do you think of Debbie?' Manson questioned suddenly.

'That's putting me on the spot,' she replied.

'Not if you rated her,' he said. 'On the face of it, you're both quite similar really. Single, single mums. You seem to pull it off a lot better though.'

Accepting a compliment from him felt dirty. 'Well, her child is much younger,' she pointed out.

'Tom Chandler's child,' Manson said. 'What did you make of that? Did you know it was going on?'

'No,' she said.

'You ever done that?' he questioned after a moment.

She glanced at him warily. 'What?'

'An office romance,' he explained.

'No,' she repeated, feeling every muscle in her body tighten.

'What,' he pressed, 'never had the opportunity or is that a personal rule? You strike me as the kind of person who might have rules about that sort of thing.'

Once more, she got the impression he was toying with her, though she wasn't sure how much he was fishing out of sheer bloody-mindedness. 'No,' she said carefully, 'it depends on the circumstances.'

Fortunately, she was spared any more of his interrogation by Barry Fox arriving at the club with Morris Tucker in tow.

'Here we go,' Manson muttered.

Sam picked up the radio and called it in to Terry and Ken, all the while keeping a careful eye on Manson. To say she didn't trust him was an understatement but she'd made the mistake of underestimating him once too often now. He was slimy and he always thought he was going to come out on top, whatever game he was playing.

The operation played out pretty quickly after that. It was chaos inside the club and Sam took one hell of a whack to the stomach during the pursuit. They located Morris tied up and bleeding profusely in a side room. Manson left her to chaperone him while the rest of them went in search of Barry Fox.

'Oh, dear, Morris,' she said, 'what a terrible mess. How did they find you?'

'The bloke I sold the fags to told 'em,' he answered.

Still winding, she took a nearby seat and winced. 'What the hell were you thinking of?'

'Take the money and run,' he said.

'What about your family?' she asked incredulously.

Morris blinked. 'She'll get looked after better if I'm not there.'

'What about Craig?' she pressed.

'What about everything?' he demanded. 'I'm over a barrel everywhere I look. When's it gonna be my turn, eh? When do I come first?'

To her complete disgust, he started crying. Struggling to her feet, she rolled her eyes. 'When you start doing the right thing, that's when.'

'If it wasn't for you none of this would've happened,' he called as she stepped towards the door.

Turning back, she scoffed, 'Oh, that's right. You blame us, Morris. We made you do it, didn't we? It's all our fault.'

After throwing him one final glare, she left the room, nodding to one of the uniforms on the door to keep an eye on him. She couldn't stomach another minute with his pathetic face, crying for himself rather than his sick wife and neglected son.

Needing some fresh air, she walked through all the commotion and ended up on the pavement outside the club. A few minutes later Manson emerged with Fox who'd apparently been hiding in the ladies' loo. He passed him over to uniform then turned to her.

'There,' he said triumphantly. 'Now that's a result.'

'Yes, Guv,' she said.

'You don't look happy,' he observed.

'You're right,' she returned with a shrug, 'it is a good result.'

He clicked his tongue then one of those self-satisfied smirks settled on his face. 'Oh, I know what your problem is.'

'Do you?' she queried coolly.

'I've kept you out too late,' he explained. 'Sheelagh'll be wondering where you are.'

Before she could even process those words, he was gone. She gaped after him, barely noticing Terry appear beside her.

'You two bury the hatchet, did you?' he asked.

'Oh, I wish I could,' she murmured, pointing to her skull. 'Right here.'

Manson must've sensed he'd pushed the right buttons, he didn't even hang around to rub salt in the wound he'd sliced open. He got a ride back to the station with Ken leaving her to travel with Terry in what turned out to be another silent journey. She needed to clear her head but she didn't feel much better by the time she got to the nick. Her appetite for booking-in Fox, Tucker and the rest was dimmed and she went straight to Gina's office, relieved to find her alone.

Closing the door, she rested her head back against it. 'Manson knows.'

Gina looked up. 'Knows what?'

'About how I...' Growling, she pushed off from the door and paced across the office. 'Oh, this is brilliant. Not only do you know and Eva and Jack but now that malicious, sadistic little –'

'Whoa, whoa,' Gina cut in, standing up. 'You're saying he knows about you and Sheelagh?'

'There is no me and Sheelagh,' she retorted. Then she sighed and stopped pacing. 'Yes, yes. He knows. Well, that's it, isn't it? He's wanted me out from the off and now he's got ammunition.'

'Slow down,' insisted Gina. 'What has he actually said?'

Sinking into a chair, she muttered, 'The other day he suggested I was compromising myself with an unusual friendship. Those were his words. In the car earlier he was asking about office romances,' she continued, 'whether I had rules against them, that sort of thing. Then, after we'd made the arrest, he apologised for keeping me out so late, said that Sheelagh would be wondering where I was.'

Gina let out a soft snort. 'Oh, he's clever. What did you say?'

'Nothing,' she answered.

'So you didn't confirm it?' Gina asked.

'Confirm what?' she returned. 'There's nothing going on.'

Gina didn't respond to that. Instead, she rounded the desk and perched on the edge, studying her in that impenetrable way. 'You say Jack knows?'

'He was too delicate to say it outright but the inference was clear,' Sam replied. 'Jack's not the problem. I mean, what am I supposed to do now? Wait around for him to tell Sheelagh?'

'Or you could –'

'No,' she interrupted firmly.

'What are you so scared of?' Gina demanded, crossing her arms.

Sam shook her head and rose to her feet. 'We've been through this.'

'As I recall, you did a disappearing act before we got the chance,' Gina retorted.

'Do you blame me?' queried Sam.

Sighing, Gina said, 'You were right at the wake, you know. When you said she didn't want Patrick, that she wants you. Just because she hasn't fully come to terms with it, doesn't mean it isn't the truth.'

'I know,' she admitted. 'I can see it. I can feel it. But she can't,' she continued tremulously. 'And I can't put her through it right now and I can't lose her either.

'Then what are your options?' Gina questioned.

For a minute she was silent. Then she swallowed and said, 'Manson's fishing, he doesn't know anything for sure. He's trying to stir up trouble but there's no proof that something's going on because it isn't. There's very little reason for Sheelagh to have much to do with him. He could drop hints but the chances are she wouldn't pay attention to them.'

Gina frowned at her. 'Why do you say that?'

'Because I didn't pay attention to all the hints you were dropping,' she returned. 'As far as I'm aware, neither has Sheelagh.'

'No,' Gina conceded, 'you're both as bad as each other.'

'So I back off a bit,' Sam went on. 'Just make it less obvious around the nick, that's all. I really need to put it back on a professional footing anyway around here, if I've got a hope of gaining promotion.' Seeing how Gina was looking at her, she asked, 'What?'

'Or you could just talk to her,' she suggested.

'I back off,' she repeated. 'It's the only way.'

Though Gina shook her head, Sam didn't linger any longer. She knew if they delved into it now, they'd likely end up rowing and she already had a headache thanks to Neil Manson. So she smiled courteously and slipped out of the office, knowing exactly the expression on Gina's face but unable to meet it with her usual steel.

Returning to custody, she sat in on the interview with one of Fox's heavies, getting very little in the way of intelligent conversation but that was about her level right now. After that she went to collect her things from upstairs and left without exchanging an extraneous word with her colleagues.

Only when she was outside did she realise that her automatic impulse had been to visit Sheelagh, to call her at the very least. Backing off certainly didn't include daily phone calls, not to soothe her anyway. Sheelagh didn't need her support tonight, she had Declan there. If she needed her, she'd let her know. In the meantime, she should get home and try to wash the stench of this lousy day off her.

She passed a restless night and woke up feeling ill-prepared for another shift under DI Manson. There was no contact from Sheelagh, which irritated her in one respect and relieved her in another, and once at work she found that the search for Cameron had finally moved into Sun Hill. MIT had come up with nothing and had decided to consult people who might actually know what was going on. They were interviewing every officer and Sam found herself on the list in the afternoon. She'd never got on particularly well with DCI Ross and the way he'd conducted the obbo around the funeral had set her dislike in stone. Nevertheless, she greeted him as cordially as she would any senior officer in such a situation.

'Thanks for coming, Samantha,' he said. 'You may be able to help us.'

'I don't see how, Guv,' she answered politely. 'I don't know Cameron very well, though he is a very good officer from what Inspector Gold tells me.'

'What about Des Taviner?' Ross probed, sitting back down and lacing his fingers together. 'Do you know him?'

'Not especially,' she said. 'I never had much to do with him apart from work interaction.'

'It's not like you to undersell, Samantha,' he replied. 'I know that you were one of the officers who alerted Superintendent Okaro to Des's guilt over the station fire.'

'I learned that information indirectly,' she said carefully.

DCI Ross smiled in a way that made her skin crawl. 'Sergeant Murphy confided in you. Don't worry, you can be honest with me. It doesn't go any further than this room. All I want is to find PC Tait safe and well.'

'I don't know what you mean,' she returned.

'DI Manson filled me in,' DCI Ross explained. 'He said that –'

'I think DI Manson's misinterpreted the situation,' Sam cut in, aware of her cheeks growing hot. 'Sheelagh and I are friends, that's all. You – you didn't mention any of this to her, did you?'

The expression on his face didn't alter. 'It came to my attention after I interviewed her,' he said. 'I didn't get the chance. You look relieved, Sam,' he observed.

She shook her head. 'Is there anything specific you wanted to ask me, Guv?'

As she'd suspected, she couldn't help him at all in the search for Cameron and she was acutely aware of his knowing smirk throughout the brief interview. Internally, she was fuming but she kept it bland for his benefit. When she managed to get out of there she went straight to the bathroom and splashed her face with icy water. The door opened and she groped for a paper towel without glancing sideways.

'I saw you rush in here. Are you okay?'

Sam spun around, startled to find Sheelagh in full uniform. 'What are you doing here?'

'I couldn't stay at home waiting for news of Cameron,' she explained. 'I wanted to be here. At least I can relieve other officers of duties so they can look for him.'

'Sounds like my logic,' Sam replied. 'But are you sure –'

'I'm sure,' Sheelagh interjected. 'Don't worry about me. What about you?'

'Oh...' She swallowed and searched for a plausible lie, coming up short. 'I'm fine.'

Though she knew it to be false, Sheelagh didn't draw attention to that fact. Instead, she bit her lip and asked, 'Is there any chance I could catch a lift home with you tonight? I could do with the company.'

'Always,' Sam murmured. 'Come find me when your shift's over.'

Sheelagh nodded and held her gaze briefly before leaving the bathroom. Left alone, the first thing Sam did was splash her face again. Just the prospect of seeing Sheelagh this evening had set her mind racing to places she'd be better if it didn't go.

She was working a burglary that afternoon which mostly entailed watching numerous tapes of street cameras while uniform were out searching for Cameron. She heard a bit of a commotion mid-afternoon and, sticking her head out into the corridor, learned from Ken that Des had phoned Cameron's location in to Sheelagh. As far as they were aware, he was uninjured but they were still eager to get him back as quickly as possible.

Returning to her video tapes, Sam managed a small smile. She'd been right about Des this time – he couldn't kill Cameron, he was just lashing out. Perhaps now he really would give up and go. There was nothing to keep him in Sun Hill and the longer he stuck around the more chance he had of capture. No, he'd leave and Sheelagh would be free of that particular torment. There were others waiting in the wings, of course, but Sam was determined to help her deal with them. As a friend, naturally; only ever as a friend.