If it wasn't for the fact that she was missing Sheelagh like crazy then Sam would probably be enjoying Birmingham. After all, it was time away from DI Manson and the current claustrophobia of Sun Hill CID, alongside time spent networking with some people who could really come in handy in the future. However, she was passively enduring the course, counting down the hours until she could get back to London and help Sheelagh plot out her house move. She knew she should be taking advantage of the time away to distance herself but, as she ruefully conceded during one group activity where she zoned out and thought endlessly about Sheelagh, she couldn't seem to do it. Perhaps things had changed in the last week or so; perhaps they hadn't. She couldn't tell and she didn't know if it really mattered.

Three dinners in a row together had duped her into believing they were some kind of couple. That secure feeling she'd experienced when Sheelagh had seen her off to work the morning after her attempted abduction by Des had been enhanced by sitting across the table from her, holding her hand in the middle of a bar, seeing her to the car park and watching her smile. She couldn't shake the sensation that they were dancing a lovers' dance and perhaps they were, only Sheelagh didn't realise it. Every time Sam tried to remind herself of that, she couldn't help but be drawn back in by a combination of hope and experience. She couldn't help recognising that Sheelagh's affection shone out of her eyes every time they were together. Truthfully, Sam couldn't recall anyone ever looking at her like that before. For the first time in her life she felt as though there was someone who she could be completely herself with. She was able to show everything with Sheelagh – she could be strong, cheeky, vulnerable, uncertain, protective, and it all worked both ways. Everything they'd been through together in the last year had proven how much they needed each other. The trouble was, she understood exactly what entwined them – Sheelagh didn't.

Daily, it seemed, Sam had to adjust herself to a shift of some sort. First off, it had been Manson stirring things. She'd known it was probable he'd stick his nose in after that stunt he'd pulled telling DCI Ross about her 'relationship' with Sheelagh, though to do it on her first shift back was a bit malicious, even for him. Sam had been up in CID when he'd waltzed in, hands in pockets, and mentioned that he'd just had a nice chat with Sheelagh. In that moment, she'd experienced the sort of blind panic she'd encountered when Abi had disappeared all those months ago. It was the sensation of things slipping away from her, of losing one of the things she held dear and being unable to do a damn thing about it. That she equated her love for Sheelagh with her love for Abi wasn't the surprising part of the scenario; no, the surprise came from the sheer helplessness she felt for those few minutes until she realised that Manson hadn't said anything concrete. She'd rushed down to Gina's office like a madwoman, arousing Sheelagh's suspicions and knowing that her defence was thin. Her relief that Manson had only been stirring the pot was offset by the anger that was chipping away at her mind.

Left alone with Gina, she was subjected to a barrage of reasons why she should tell Sheelagh now before Manson got the chance. But, really, she suspected that if he wanted Sheelagh to know the truth then she'd know by now. No, he just wanted to toy with her and he was proving remarkably adept at it. What was it Terry had said the other week? That he had her worrying about what made him happy so that was a result as far as he was concerned. Well, that was only half right – she wasn't worried about what made Manson happy, she was worried about what his next move might be. Either way, he still had control and that's what he wanted. Just another reason why, if her urge to stay near Sheelagh hadn't been so strong, she should've left Sun Hill the moment he stepped through the door. Now he had this power over her and he was going to utilise it for as long as possible. Telling Sheelagh how she felt would cause merry hell but it would be a transient victory. From his point of view, it was better to keep her on the end of the rope, screw around with her feelings and Sheelagh's until she buckled. If his aim was to get her out of Sun Hill then he wasn't going to succeed – at least not yet. If he decided to turn up the heat then there'd have to be a break one way or the other but she was trying not to look beyond the next week or so. That was in direct contradiction to her career plans, the goals she'd set herself. She was well aware her life was complicated at the moment and she wasn't sure how to go about rectifying that.

Her relationship with Sheelagh governed her day-to-day existence. Even her words to Gina about backing off had come to nothing because the second she was in Sheelagh's company she got lost in the intimacy. Occasionally, she struggled with it, struggled with the boundaries. For instance, when Sheelagh had blithely announced she was divorcing Patrick, Sam had experienced a sharp jolt. It was a jolt of hope, a little voice at the back of her head whispering that Sheelagh was divorcing Patrick for her. She wasn't, of course; she knew it had nothing to do with it. Yet the irresistible pinch of desire that assailed her every time the thought crossed her mind refused to be dimmed. She wanted Sheelagh in every way and she was beginning to realise it wasn't a sustainable situation, Manson or not. Something had to change – soon.

The last afternoon of her course was basically a recap followed by a booze-up. She had one more night in the hotel then she was due to drive back to London tomorrow morning and return to the nick after lunch. She could've taken the whole day off but, knowing that Sheelagh was in, she'd elected to go straight back to work. It wouldn't do any harm to get a head-start on Manson and find out what had been going on in her absence.

However, she was thrown off-kilter by her phone buzzing in her pocket just as they were in the middle of the penultimate recap presentation. Of course, it had done that numerous times during the course and she'd always surreptitiously checked and ignored it. The only people she'd answer to were Abi, Sheelagh and Gina and this surprise call came from Inspector Gold's mobile. Though she didn't get out into the corridor in time to answer it, she called straight back.

'What's wrong?' she asked immediately.

'We've arrested Des,' Gina replied.

Sam covered her free ear to blot out the excess noise of a group passing by. 'Is Sheelagh okay?'

'She's coping but –'

'Never mind,' she cut in. 'I'll get on the road, I'll be back as soon as possible. Look after her for me, Gina,' she added.

'Goes without saying,' returned Gina before she hung up.

It didn't take long to gather her clothes into her suitcase and check out of the hotel. She didn't tell the course leader where she was going but she did leave a note at the hotel restaurant excusing herself from the meal later. Given the nature of the job, people slipping away like this was expected, but this wasn't the job prompting her to leave, it was something far more important.

Once she was on the road she couldn't help but let her mind wander. Her instincts had played her wrong on this one – she'd assumed that Des would get as far away from Sun Hill as possible now there was nothing holding him there. His rage about Niamh's death had burned itself out and Sheelagh certainly didn't want anything to do with him anymore. Why he hadn't followed through on his decision to flee to Spain was beyond her but the simple fact of the matter now was that he was banged up in the cells at Sun Hill and Sheelagh was probably yards away on custody.

There was a part of Sam that was undeniably jealous. The history between Sheelagh and Des alarmed her, not least because they had the physical connection that she so craved. It didn't matter that she was completely certain by now that Sheelagh loved her; the point was that Sheelagh didn't realise it. Her grief over Niamh was undeniably strong and the link to the father of her daughter had to be worth something. Never mind that Sam had been more of a co-parent than he'd been, never mind that she'd opened her heart to Niamh and it had been shattered. The fact that Des had fathered Sheelagh's child was something that couldn't be altered and it made Sam all the more anxious to get back to London.

There was plenty of traffic to get stuck in on the way down. She didn't do well stuck in jams at the best of times but dealing with rush-hour whilst trying desperately to get back to Sheelagh very nearly tried her last nerve. Should someone have done something actually illegal nearby in the queues nearby she would've relished the chance to flash her warrant card and threaten someone with an arrest she couldn't follow through on but everyone was stubbornly docile. She couldn't even listen to music, she was too on edge. Instead she drummed on the wheel and allowed her mind to revolve on Sheelagh as it always seemed to these days.

Finally, she was moving a little faster and at least feeling as if she was making progress. Then her mobile rang again and she jabbed it onto speakerphone.

'Gina?' she asked. 'What's happened? Is Sheelagh okay?'

'Are you still driving?' Gina queried, her voice almost unrecognisable. 'Pull over.'

Perturbed, she drew the car onto the hard shoulder and stuck her hazard lights on. If someone criticised her for it she'd plead police business but, right now, she couldn't give a damn. She picked the phone up from her lap and took it off speakerphone.

'Gina?' she pressed. 'What is it?'

'Des is dead,' she answered.

If Sam hadn't already been sitting, she might've wobbled. She struggled to comprehend the words, gazing through the darkness at the taillights tripping down the motorway and trying to focus her mind on Gina's words.

'Sam, did you hear me?' asked Gina.

'I heard,' she murmured. 'What the hell happened?'

'The cells were overcrowded,' Gina explained in a tight voice. 'Des ended up sharing and... Well, much more than that we don't know at this stage. He was found unconscious in his cell and –'

'Who by?' Sam interrupted, already feeling she knew the answer.

Gina just sighed. 'How far away are you?'

'About half an hour,' she replied. 'How is she?'

'They're starting with the blame game,' Gina said after a moment. 'MIT are in, seem to be pointing the finger. Sheelagh didn't book Des in but she did book in McCluskey and custody was chaotic.'

Sam briefly squeezed her eyes shut. 'This wasn't her fault.'

'Don't worry, I'm making that case. Now, listen,' Gina continued briskly, 'you wait outside when you get here and call me.'

'Why?' she questioned.

'Because you're in enough trouble with the DI as it,' returned Gina.

'Who cares about that?' she retorted.

'Sheelagh will,' Gina answered. 'Besides, with Eva gone he's practically on the rampage.'

Frowning, Sam asked, 'What do you mean? Where's Eva gone?'

Gina exhaled loudly. 'I thought Sheelagh would've told you. She's gone, transferred. To MIT, ironically enough.'

This deluge of information was suffocating her. She could only deal with one thing at a time and Sheelagh was her priority. Reluctantly, she accepted that steaming into the nick wouldn't do any good and agreed to let Gina know when she reached the car park. Then she tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and put her foot down.

There was no sense of loss as far as she was concerned. She disliked Des on so many levels – as a cop killer and a coward, more potently as the man who'd seduced Sheelagh and ruined her marriage. However, she was worried about how much more Sheelagh could take at this point. She'd had a child with the guy, after all, and then there was apparently a question mark hovering over her conduct. While Sam had no doubt that Sheelagh had acted properly, the last thing she needed was more pressure from the Met. The circumstances around Niamh's funeral had fractured the trust between Sheelagh and the top brass – who knew what would happen now?

She found herself in the car park around eight o'clock and had to force herself to do as Gina had instructed and stay put. After texting her, Sam leaned back and tried to focus on the tangible things she could do. Her instincts were to look after Sheelagh – that was why Gina had called her, after all – but she needed to do it in such a way that she didn't reveal any of her own feelings. Once again, something had cropped up and she needed to protect Sheelagh as best she could, both from the situation and Sam's own emotions.

Eventually, she caught sight of two figures emerging from the front office and immediately slipped out of the car. Gina was leading Sheelagh firmly away from the station, both of them looking as though they'd done battle with a truck in the recent past. Sheelagh hadn't spotted her yet and Sam hovered in the gloom examining her face. Inwardly, she admitted that she was searching for signs of grief, trying to work out whether Sheelagh was mourning Des as a lover, but there was very little there. It was shock mainly, something Sam recognised all too well from that endless night following Niamh's death, but without that fundamental undercurrent of agony.

Digging her hands into her pockets, Sam stepped into the light and said, 'Hey.'

Sheelagh evidently hadn't known she was coming and Sam would never forget the relief that swept over her face when she saw her standing there. That was love; that was need. Whatever remnants of feelings Sheelagh had for Des, Sam was under no illusions that it was a completely different prospect to the underlying feelings Sheelagh had for her. She knew it wasn't something she should be considering right now but she was still selfish in some respects – she needed to know for her own peace of mind that Sheelagh loved her and there was confirmation in that look.

'What are you doing here?' Sheelagh asked when they met on the pavement.

'Blame her,' Sam replied, gesturing towards Gina.

Sheelagh swallowed. 'You were busy, you shouldn't have –'

'Come on,' interrupted Sam firmly.

She wrapped an arm around Sheelagh's shoulders and turned her towards the car, rewarded by an arm sliding around her waist and a tired head resting against her arm. Beyond Sheelagh's head she met Gina's eye, knowing from her frown that things were far from okay as far as the investigation went. That was tomorrow's problem though; for now she needed to get Sheelagh home.

'Thanks, Gina,' she said sincerely.

With a nod, her friend disappeared off back towards the station and Sam concentrated on leading Sheelagh to the car. She'd done this so much over the months now that it felt like second nature. It didn't escape her notice that they were lurching from crisis to crisis but that didn't mean the intense connection between them was only based on that. Far from it. Depositing Sheelagh in the passenger seat of her car didn't just trigger memories of the past – it felt like the future and that momentarily unbalanced her.

When she slid back into the driver's seat and started the engine, she determined not to push Sheelagh into speaking before she was ready. However, that came a little quicker than she'd anticipated as a hand rested on her arm and she glanced sideways to find those familiar blue eyes trained on her in the semi-gloom.

'What do you know?' Sheelagh questioned.

'Very little,' she admitted. She hesitated then reached up and covered Sheelagh's hand briefly, knowing she needed to keep her gaze on the road but wanting to reassure her. 'Why don't you talk me through it?'

From the way Sheelagh exhaled, Sam knew she'd said the right thing. That was her sixth sense kicking in – she instinctively knew what Sheelagh needed and she took a moment to revel in that intimate knowledge. As wrong as it felt, given what had happened tonight, she couldn't help but compare this to what she knew of Des and Sheelagh's relationship and he came up short every time.

Sheelagh settled back in her seat, clumping her hands together on her lap. Eventually, she began, 'Gina had been keeping an eye on Reg. She thought he'd be likely to call him if anyone. Not me,' she went on hollowly. 'I should care about that more than I do. I don't think I feel it for me,' she added in a trembling voice. 'But what about Niamh?'

Sam gripped the steering wheel until her hands turned white. Des's selfishness surprised her, even now. 'Go on,' she said.

'He didn't call Reg,' Sheelagh continued, 'he ambushed him at a derelict swimming pool. I think it was one last attempt to clear his conscience but he should've just run. Gina had the place surrounded and that was that.'

'Okay,' Sam said carefully. She was grateful she had the excuse of staring at the road; she wasn't sure she could look at Sheelagh as she recounted this. 'Then what?'

'Custody was horrific,' answered Sheelagh. 'I'd had officers complaining all day, the cells were overflowing. I'd asked Gina for help and she sent me June of all people.'

Sam noted the venom in her tone, attributing it to the funeral debacle. In truth, she hadn't yet forgiven June Ackland herself for betraying Sheelagh in that way. Even if her feelings for Sheelagh had stopped at friendship, she wouldn't have been able to play a part in an obbo at Niamh's funeral. That June, someone she deemed more emotional than practical, had agreed to it was a puzzle to her and it screamed of putting the job above everything else. Perhaps a year ago that was a sentiment Sam would've agreed with but everything was topsy-turvy now: she was advocating emotion above professionalism and June was doing the opposite. No one would credit it.

'The Super came to tell me about the arrest,' Sheelagh said after a few moments. 'I struggled to take it in, I didn't expect it. Then I tried to get back to work. The plan was that June would book Des in and I'd...carry on as normal. But it was noisy, chaotic. As soon as he came in Des tried to talk to me. He was screaming at me, begging for me to listen to him. I tried to focus on the man I was booking in, I got out of there as soon as I could. But I put them in together. Everyone was doubling-up, I shouldn't have done it with a murder suspect but –'

'It's all right,' Sam cut in. 'Just carry on with the facts.'

'The facts...' Sheelagh repeated. She took a deep breath and Sam stretched across and groped for her hand, holding on until she was forced to change gear at a junction. Then Sheelagh continued, 'Everything calmed down. I mean, we were at capacity, prisoners were being diverted to Stafford Row. June returned to her duties and I was left down there alone. He was calling for me, he wouldn't stop. Over and over, I couldn't stand it anymore.'

They were nearly at the house now. Sam pulled up and turned the engine off, though she made no effort to move. One glance sideways had told her that the light was on in the boys' bedroom, meaning that at least one of them was home. She didn't particularly want to move this inside near them and, besides, she got the impression that it would be better for Sheelagh to leave this outside, so to speak. She unbuckled her seatbelt and shifted to face her, earning a rueful smile as Sheelagh realised exactly what her thought process had been and mirrored her movements.

'So you went to talk to him?' Sam pressed gently.

'I had to,' Sheelagh muttered.

'Hey, hey,' said Sam, catching her hand, 'I am not judging, okay? Whether I like it or not, you two have got history. You shouldn't have been left on custody and he shouldn't have even been in the cells at Sun Hill.'

With a slow nod, Sheelagh said, 'He wanted me to tell him I loved him.'

Every muscle in Sam's body tensed up and she attempted to swallow down her discomfort. She was still holding Sheelagh's hands and she knew that her little flicker had been noticed. However, for whatever reason, she didn't seem to want to draw attention to it anymore than Sam did. Perhaps she was simply lost in her recollection of the evening's events.

'I couldn't,' she went on. 'I couldn't lie to him. I didn't want to, not after everything he's done. I walked away.'

Discreetly, Sam let out her breath. She knew that subconsciously she'd been waiting for a blow there but it hadn't come. Now she made an effort to smooth her face into something akin to concerned friendship, though she couldn't resist keeping hold of Sheelagh's hand and massaging it with her thumb.

'What happened next?' she asked.

'The Super and the DCI came down to tell me MIT had arrived,' answered Sheelagh. 'I went to get Des and he was – he was there on the floor. He wasn't breathing,' she rushed on, 'he was bleeding from a cut on his head. I tried to resuscitate him but there was nothing. I kept trying until the paramedics arrived but I...couldn't get his heart going again. I'd only checked him a few minutes earlier, I don't understand.'

Sam squeezed her hand till her fingers numbed but said nothing.

'Anyway,' Sheelagh went on after steadying herself, 'once it was – when it was over MIT interviewed me. They'd jumped to their own conclusions, of course,' she said with a shake of the head. 'The footage of custody didn't help me much. All you could see was Des screaming at me, I know how it looked. I tried defending myself. I mean, I'd recorded everything in the custody log but I'd put McCluskey in there, hadn't I? From their point of view it probably looks like revenge but I swear I followed the rules, Sam.'

'You know you don't have to tell me that,' she pointed out.

'But do you believe it?' Sheelagh persisted. 'Or are you just saying it to make me feel better?'

'Look at me. Hey, look at me.' She waited until Sheelagh met her eye then said firmly, 'I believe it because it's true. You're a by-the-book copper,' she added. 'Besides, you don't have a vengeful bone in your body, sweetheart. I promise, you did everything right. You didn't want this.'

Surveying her expression, Sheelagh finally inclined her head. It was all Sam could do to restrain herself, hold herself rigid and not lean forward and completely screw everything up. She could almost feel Sheelagh's lips under hers, almost feel the tingling through her body. Then she clenched her jaw and attempted a smile, trying to suppress her impulses once again.

Sheelagh blinked a few times and Sam's heart skipped a beat when she questioned, 'Do you want to come in?'

'Do you want me to?' Sam returned in a whisper.

So much for ignoring her urge to push her luck; she was sorely tempted to throw caution to the wind and the way Sheelagh's hand gripped her own wasn't helping much. It was almost irresistible but she was the master of repression and she refrained from succumbing to what could only be a disaster at this point, no matter how those blue eyes were looking at her.

'Your coffee's better than mine,' Sheelagh replied finally.

A chuckle released a little sexual tension and she relinquished Sheelagh's hand, gesturing towards the house. 'I can't argue with that, come on.'

By the time she made it over the threshold she was feeling a little more secure. This wasn't the intimate seclusion of a gloomy car where she was only a few inches away from losing control of both herself and the situation. No, this was a well-lit house with at least one moody teenage boy upstairs. That was a passion-killer if ever there was one and she walked into the kitchen feeling more like Detective Sergeant Samantha Nixon than she had since she'd received that call from Gina what felt like an eternity ago.

While Sam put the kettle on, Sheelagh's attention had caught on a few boxes by the back door. She'd obviously started packing some things up and that was probably triggering some recriminations and regrets right now. Des might be dead but Sam was struggling to feel any sympathy – if he could comprehend the damage he'd done to this family, never mind the families of his six victims, he would've given himself up months ago. It was testament to Sheelagh's strength that she'd survived to this point but it was no thanks at all to Des Taviner.

'How are you doing with the packing?' Sam questioned.

Sheelagh puffed out her breath and sat down at the table. 'I don't know what to take,' she admitted. 'The furniture's staying here so it's just a case of clothes and things like that, I suppose. There's not much else I want.'

'Far be it from me to throw a spanner into the works but you might actually need some furniture,' Sam pointed out as she spooned coffee into the cups and moved to the fridge. 'Otherwise you might as well live in a shed, it's cheaper.'

Smiling, Sheelagh replied, 'Patrick's found me some essentials from people he knows. I've got a fridge, cooker, sofa and a bed at least, they're in the garage. That'll do for now.'

'They're in the garage here?' she queried. When Sheelagh nodded, she said, 'That feels ever-so-slightly counterproductive but I'm a bit backward sometimes.'

'You are,' Sheelagh returned.

'Cheeky,' Sam said. Finishing off the coffee, she joined her at the table and slid her cup over. 'Well, I've already said, whatever you need, I can help.'

'You'll regret that,' answered Sheelagh.

'Why?' Sam challenged, quirking an eyebrow. 'What did you have in mind?'

'I'm sure I can think of something,' Sheelagh said with a shrug.

If this was unconscious flirting then the effect it was having on Sam was remarkable. They'd been like this since the beginning, she realised; bouncing off each other, able to modulate their responses instinctively. The profiler in Sam was attempting to quantify it but, really, it was unnecessary. The simple fact was that flirty language coiled around them as easily as the serious stuff. No relationship Sam had ever been involved in was this equal, this easy. Even whilst she was tiptoeing along the tightrope of her feelings, Sam could still appreciate and marvel at the ease of it all.

Sipping her scalding coffee, she tried to think of a way to transfer the conversation onto safer ground. Then, with a start, she caught sight of a figure hovering in the hallway and stood up.

'Hi,' she said as Connor stepped into view.

His brow was creased. 'What's going on?'

Sam exchanged a glance with Sheelagh, suddenly awkward. 'I just drove your mum home, that's all.'

'Why?' he pressed.

The way he was looking at her was unsettling but Sheelagh cut in with, 'Connor, don't be so rude. I've had a bad day, it was very good of Sam to –'

'Bad day?' he interrupted. 'What do you mean?'

There was something about this exchange that was setting Sam's nerves on edge. After taking a look at Sheelagh's face and calculating how she was coping, she decided that the best strategy was to make a quick exit. Sheelagh had seemed eager and able to leave the spectre of Des in the car and that convinced Sam that she'd get through the night.

'Actually,' she said, drawing the attention of both mother and son back to her, 'I should get going. I've got some unpacking to do.'

A soft smile played across Sheelagh's face and Sam was sure she saw Connor's eyes narrow. Once and for all, she needed to get out of the house. Without another word, she headed for the door, edging past a teenager who seemed disinclined to let her go. She heard Sheelagh mutter a warning to Connor as she passed and he disappeared further into the kitchen while Sheelagh followed Sam to the door.

'I'm sorry about him,' she said. 'He's taken it hard. He's only here because he doesn't like sharing a room with Declan more than he has to.'

'Never mind,' Sam replied, though she wasn't convinced. 'I'll pick you up in the morning, okay?'

'You don't have to do that,' Sheelagh said.

As she opened the door, Sam threw her a glance over her shoulder. 'Did I give the impression that was negotiable?'

Sheelagh's chuckle was the only response she needed. After slipping out into the cold night, she went straight to her car and drove away without hesitation. She wasn't certain what had happened in there with Connor but she was just thankful Sheelagh hadn't noticed anything. It could all be in Sam's imagination, of course. Why would a teenage boy jump to the right conclusion straight off the bat? He wouldn't. It was likely to be his general moodiness shining through, the pain of a young man struggling with the breakdown of his parents' marriage. The closer Sam got to home, the more she believed that.


Her appearance last night had shocked Abi who had banked on another day to make the house presentable. To tell the truth, Sam didn't much care about the pizza boxes and Coke cans – she was more relieved they weren't vodka bottles – and she startled her daughter with a big hug. When pressed on why she was back early she evaded the question, saying she hadn't slept very well in the hotel and wanted the comfort of her own bed. Whether Abi accepted that or not was debatable but Sam knew her daughter was an observer just like her – she'd noted it as unusual and she'd be keeping an eye on her.

She must've missed her own bed in some respects because she slept through. Getting back to her morning routine was cathartic, although the alteration of dropping round to collect Sheelagh was a welcome one. Given Connor's attitude of the previous night, she was reluctant about knocking on the door but she didn't have to. Perhaps, consciously or subconsciously, Sheelagh had noted her son's behaviour and decided to be ready and waiting. Sam had barely pulled up when the front door opened and Sheelagh emerged. It was a gorgeous sight, even given the early morning gloom draped around the street.

Sheelagh slotted into the passenger seat and stowed her bag in the foot well. 'Morning.'

'Morning,' Sam replied as she turned the car around. 'How did you sleep?'

'Better than I'd a right to,' said Sheelagh.

Throwing her a glance, Sam said nothing. She knew that Sheelagh interpreted the look for what it was and returned it with a small shrug. They travelled to the nick mostly in silence then Sam cleared her throat as she pulled into her usual parking space. She extracted the keys from the ignition and turned sideways.

'Listen to me,' she said briskly, making certain Sheelagh met her eye, 'do not feel guilty, okay? I'm glad you're sleeping, even if you think you shouldn't. Whatever happens in there today, you'll get through it. I'll do anything I can to help.'

Sheelagh nodded, her expression so warm and trusting that Sam felt herself melting into it. Then she questioned, 'How are you with a mop and bucket?'

With a chuckle Sam opened the car door. 'I think I asked for that. When?'

'Tomorrow after work?' Sheelagh suggested as they began walking towards the front office. 'Patrick's arranged for the furniture and my boxes to be dropped round about nine tomorrow night and I want to give the place a good clean first.'

'Sure,' Sam answered. 'On one condition.'

Sheelagh shot her a dubious look. 'Go on.'

'You let me buy the takeaway to get us through it,' she said.

'Let me get this straight,' said Sheelagh. 'You're going to come and help me clean my new house and then you're going to buy me dinner?'

'That's about the size of it, yeah,' Sam replied.

'You're out of your mind,' Sheelagh remarked.

Sam shrugged as she yanked open the door and allowed Sheelagh to pass through into the front office. Lowering her voice, she said, 'You'll get through this. You know where I am.'

'Thanks,' said Sheelagh with a smile before disappearing into the depths of the station as breezily as she could with Marilyn eyeing her from the front desk.

In turn, Sam made a deliberate effort to appear unconcerned as she climbed the stairs to CID. It was all an act though. She was ruminating on how different Sheelagh had suddenly seemed the moment they'd crossed the threshold into the nick. Of course, that could be down to the fact that she was currently under investigation for Des's death and MIT were apparently gunning for her. As ridiculous as that notion was, it would be resting heavy on Sheelagh's shoulders. It stood to reason that she'd seek to distance herself inside the station, try and establish her self-belief without leaning on Sam, at least not visibly. After all, that's what she'd do in her shoes.

However, a little voice at the back of her head argued against that interpretation. One of the reasons Sam wanted to distance herself at work was to avoid any more difficulties with Manson. She knew Sheelagh was familiar with that concern so maybe it was as much about protecting her as it was holding her head up high in the nick. Even in some of the worst moments of her life, Sheelagh was still intent on looking after her. That was something, whether she was aware of it or not.

Going into CID the first thing that caught her eye was Eva's empty desk. With a sigh, she approached her own chair and dumped her bag into it.

'Thought you weren't back till this afternoon, Sarge,' Ken said.

'I missed your lovely smile, Ken,' she retorted. Turning, she noted that Manson's office was empty and then saw Debbie hovering by the printer. She sidled up beside her and leaned against the wall. 'What happened with Eva?'

Debbie flinched and rubbed her neck. Before she spoke, she looked around to check they were relatively alone then answered, 'She, erm, fell on her own sword to help Jack.'

'Help Jack?' Sam repeated. 'What do you mean?'

Shifting uncomfortably, Debbie mumbled, 'I don't know the details.'

She knew that to be a blatant lie but, really, she didn't have time to weasel her way into Debbie McAllister's confidence at the moment. Instead, she asked, 'It was down to Manson, wasn't it?'

'Yeah,' Debbie confirmed, 'and you and me are next on the hit list so buckle up. I don't think Jack's got enough favours to cash in with MIT to save all three of us.'

'I'm not going anywhere,' Sam warned.

'That makes two of us,' Debbie said.

Returning to her desk, Sam made an effort to get up to speed with the files that had landed there in her absence. She ignored every attempt by Ken and, later, Rob to draw her into conversation, though she listened carefully to the gossip circulating CID about Sheelagh. Manson finally arrived, his entrance being punctuated by a succession of sneezes that forced Sam to suppress her smirk.

'Samantha,' Manson said curtly, 'a word.'

She gritted her teeth and followed him into his office, standing with her hands clamped behind her back waiting for the inevitable onslaught. Sat behind his desk, Manson looked almost translucent. With any other colleague, Sam might feel some smidgen of pity but Neil Manson didn't move her one bit. She just stood there politely examining a speck of dirt on the wall.

'You're early,' he muttered eventually. 'I wasn't expecting you in till this afternoon.'

'I decided to skip the drinks and get back to work,' she answered with a bland smile.

Snorting, he questioned, 'Nothing to do with the events in custody last night then? You're aware, I take it. You and Sheelagh being such good...'

As he trailed off and pressed a hand over his mouth Sam took the opportunity to reply, 'Before you throw up, Guv, can I make it clear that you've got it completely wrong about me and Sheelagh? There's nothing going on and, frankly, I'm sick of the innuendo.'

'I hope you're fooling yourself, Samantha,' he retorted. With visibly trembling legs, he stood and used the desk to prop himself up. 'I don't care,' he added, 'until it starts affecting your job. It's my opinion it already has.'

She clenched her fist out of sight. 'Well, in my opinion, Guv, you look horrific. I think you should go home before you infect the entire department.'

It seemed as though he wanted to argue but he couldn't muster the energy. Her satisfaction at his misery solidified as he grabbed his coat and stumbled towards the door.

Gripping the handle, he turned back to her. 'Don't think you've got the run of the place.'

'I don't want it,' she said sincerely.

He sniggered. 'You want my job, don't pretend that's not the case.'

'I won't,' she answered, resting against the cabinet and flashing him a saccharine smile. 'I want your job and I want the results to stack up under my name, not yours.'

'You're lucky I'm ill,' Manson muttered as he yanked the door open. 'I'll be back in as soon as I can.'

With him gone the department felt lighter. The more the day went on, the more accurate that became. They were dropping like flies up here, with most of them already infected with whatever Manson had got. One by one, she sent them home, slowly realising that if a major incident kicked off, she'd have nobody to cover it. She was on her way to ask Gina to free up some troops if necessary when she caught of Sheelagh sat in the Sergeants' Office staring into space. Professional considerations forgotten, Sam slipped inside the office and shut the door.

'What's happened?' she asked.

Sheelagh nearly jumped out of her skin. Then her shoulders relaxed, even if her face betrayed her pain as she said, 'McCluskey had a history of mental illness, a real history. He should never have been in that cell. The custody tape is being enhanced, they can't tell if I asked him whether he had a history of mental illness. June isn't backing me up.'

Sam frowned. 'Excuse me?'

'She says she didn't hear,' Sheelagh said with a limp shrug.

Instinctively, Sam wanted to slam June Ackland's head through a wall. Wasn't it enough that she'd helped sabotage Niamh's funeral without piling this agony on top of that? She tried to suppress that urge and crossed her arms.

'Of course you asked him,' she said firmly.

Sheelagh let out a disbelieving sigh. 'You don't know anything, you're just saying that.'

'No, I'm not,' she answered. 'Look, it's automatic. The same way that you read someone their rights and swear on the Bible in court – you do it without thinking. I know I do.'

After searching her face, Sheelagh conceded, 'I'm sure I asked him.'

'And I'm sure you asked him,' Sam returned. 'I'd bet my career on it.'

'June Ackland won't,' said Sheelagh. Then, quickly, she warned, 'Don't do what you're thinking of doing.'

Sam shifted her weight. 'And what's that?'

'Yelling at June won't help,' Sheelagh pointed out.

'It might make me feel better,' answered Sam. 'But I'll leave it.'

With the closest thing to a smile probably possible at the moment, Sheelagh took a deep breath and rose. As she reached for the door, Sam felt her irresistibly close then shook herself – this would be highly inappropriate even if they weren't in the middle of the station and in the middle of respective layers of chaos. She had to remind herself that Sheelagh wasn't on her wavelength about this; not yet, perhaps not ever. So she simply opened the door with a flourish and let Sheelagh past.

'Oh,' Sheelagh said, spinning around before she made it a yard along the corridor, 'in your professional opinion, if Rob says something's above board –'

'Panic,' she interrupted. 'And cover your back.'

'Thanks,' replied Sheelagh. 'I will.'

Sam watched her go then stepped across the corridor and knocked on Gina's open door. Her friend looked up and motioned her inside, the anxiety evident on her face. Closing the door, Sam found herself a bit restless and paced around the office.

'You look flustered,' Gina observed.

'I'm fine,' she said. Forcing herself to stop moving, she hooked her hands around her neck. 'What's June playing at?'

Gina dropped her pen onto the desk. 'She can't confirm what she didn't hear, Sam.'

'Rubbish,' she replied. 'We stick together in this job.'

'Maybe,' Gina returned, 'but that's not why you're angry.'

Sam reluctantly accepted that then took the vacant chair opposite her. 'How bad is it?'

'Not good,' said Gina. 'But once they get that tape cleaned up then she's in the clear. Right?'

'Right,' she confirmed.

'That's what I told MIT,' Gina added. 'There's nothing else we can do.'

'I know,' she murmured then recalled the reason she'd come downstairs in the first place. 'I may need to steal some of the relief...'

There was little let-up for the rest of the day. Sam honestly couldn't recall whether she'd been this busy as Acting DI or whether it was just the stress of covering for Manson with half of CID flaked out in their beds causing her problems. One thing was for sure – she certainly missed having an office door to close and escape from the glares of people she was delegating to.

Things as they were, she didn't have the opportunity to look for Sheelagh until the shift was nearly over. Then her remaining colleagues began sloping out of CID and the knot in her stomach began to unravel. It was only at that point she realised that part of her anxiety stemmed from the fact she didn't have time to worry about Sheelagh. Her priorities had shifted so dramatically that she didn't even recognise them anymore.

Going down to custody she found Sheelagh dealing with bailing a prisoner. She waited off to the side until the man was escorted away by two constables then watched Sheelagh's shoulders deflate as she realised she didn't have to keep up the act anymore.

'How are you doing?' Sam queried.

'They interviewed me again earlier,' Sheelagh answered. 'Asked me outright whether I put Des in that cell as some sort of revenge. Calm down,' she added, reaching over and touching her arm, 'you don't need to get involved.'

'I want to,' she insisted.

'You're covering for the DI, aren't you?' asked Sheelagh seriously. 'Focus on that.'

'Stop trying to put me off,' Sam warned. 'How bad is it?'

Sheelagh exhaled and began toying with the edge of Sam's jacket sleeve. 'I had a go at June earlier. I shouldn't have done it, I know Gina was right, but I just felt...'

'Out of control,' supplied Sam, her eyes trained on the movement of Sheelagh's fingers. 'Angry, betrayed, hurt. Completely normal under the circumstances.'

'Is it my fault he's dead?' Sheelagh asked after a moment, looking up with fresh anxiety on her face.

'No,' she said instantly. 'You did nothing wrong, I promise you.'

That Sheelagh even half-believed her was something to celebrate. With a visible effort, she withdrew her hand and Sam immediately felt the loss. However, she couldn't criticise Sheelagh for trying to reassemble her own mask in this gossip haven – it was exactly what Sam would've done under the circumstances.

'Do you want me to wait around?' Sam questioned.

Sheelagh shook her head. 'I'll see you tomorrow. You get some rest, stop worrying about me.'

'Mmm,' she murmured, 'I'll pencil that in. Call me if you need me.'

She waited for Sheelagh's nod of acquiescence before she backed away from the desk. As much as she wanted to offer moral support, she knew that Sheelagh needed to make her own decisions right now and Sam needed to trust her to look after herself. While she felt an instinctive urge to protect Sheelagh, sometimes that wasn't necessarily the right thing to do. Sheelagh was a good copper but she needed to realise that herself. Sam knew that, though she'd certainly be tempted to jump in if June Ackland persisted in being obtuse for much longer. There was a big difference between letting Sheelagh stand up for herself and letting her flounder. Sam was determined to strike the right balance.


When she got to the nick the next day the staffing problem upstairs was worse than ever. Flu had spread over to CSU and she spent a good twenty minutes trying to organise their caseload before returning to her own desk. Walking from CSU to CID Sam was caught by the new PC, Andrea Dunbar, who was dealing with a rather vicious assault with Nick. After receiving an update on the investigation, she was surprised when Smithy cleared his throat beside her desk.

'Erm, I was just wondering where my relief was,' he said.

'Nick and Andrea are helping us out on a job,' she answered.

'Yeah? Since when?

'I've got half of CID down at court and the rest are off with flu,' she explained, trying to smooth down the brusque edge of her tone a little.

'Till lunchtime,' he muttered.

She smiled. 'Thank you...Smithy.'

Keeping CID afloat that day proved to be a mission. She relished the opportunity, though her mind kept wandering to Sheelagh whenever it had the chance. Hearing nothing all day beyond idle gossip was starting to grate on her nerves. She wanted to go downstairs and find out the facts but she was stuck with second-hand rumblings from Rob and Phil that were beginning to drive her round the twist. Briefly, she wondered when she'd become this woman who cared about something more than her job. This was her chance to make her mark on CID again and she was distracted by her feelings for Sheelagh. Perhaps Manson was right; perhaps it was impacting her work. That was something else that was unsustainable, if she stopped to think about it in those terms.

Finally, after drowning in paperwork, she was startled when Gina pulled up a chair beside her. Sam surveyed her face, trying to dig into her eyes and work out whether it was good or bad news, but that was fighting a losing cause with Gina Gold.

'What happened?' she questioned.

'She's in the clear,' Gina answered. 'The tape plainly showed that she asked McCluskey whether he had any history of mental illness and he said no. She'll be docked wages for putting a suspected murderer in a shared cell against protocol but that's all.'

Leaning back in her chair, she exhaled. 'That's brilliant.'

'You didn't doubt her for a minute, did you?' queried Gina with a small smile.

'No,' she said simply.

Gina chuckled and pulled out a slip of paper. 'She asked me to give you this.'

Unfolding it, she found an address written in Sheelagh's curly handwriting along with an instruction to arrive after seven and smiled.

By the time she left the station there were butterflies in her stomach. She wasn't even sure why. After all, she'd spent plenty of time alone with Sheelagh recently; there was nothing unusual in quiet moments together. Perhaps, she realised as she slotted into the car, it was more what had changed in the last few days. Des Taviner was dead and Sheelagh was divorcing Patrick. It put a whole new slant on things whilst simultaneously changing nothing.

She found the house without difficulty. It was a nice semi, the front lawn a bit of a mess but otherwise the place certainly had prospects. Her door knock was answered by Sheelagh, cheeks flushed and a rag keeping her hair out of her face. Sam was momentarily thrown off-balance – struck by how homely and perfect it looked – then she smiled and stepped over the threshold.

'You're early,' Sheelagh said as she closed the door.

'Can happen once in a while,' she replied. She looked around the bare hallway and added, 'This is nice.'

'It will be nice,' corrected Sheelagh. 'Right now, it's filthy.'

Sam slipped her jacket off and hung it over the banister. 'So where do you want me?'

'Could you start on the kitchen?' Sheelagh questioned. 'There's a bucket with supplies in it on the windowsill. I'm having an argument with the bathroom.'

'Consider it done,' she said, unable to refrain from squeezing Sheelagh's hand as she passed.

For the next hour she lost herself in good old-fashioned hard work. She tied her hair back and steadily got dirtier as the kitchen got cleaner. By the time she'd finished she was proud of her efforts and climbed the stairs to see how Sheelagh was getting on. She found her scrubbing the window in the largest bedroom, a radio plugged into the wall playing eighties pop. Sam took the opportunity to lean against the doorframe and watch her unobserved for a few seconds, enjoying the spectacle more than she had a right to.

Eventually, she cleared her throat and stepped into the room. 'What's next?' she asked.

Sheelagh spun around, her skin glistening with sweat. She looked her over then moved to the corner and dug into a plastic bag. Bringing out a couple of bottles of water, she passed one over and gestured to the floor.

'Sit,' she instructed.

'Since you asked nicely...' Sam murmured with a smile.

Settling beside her on the red carpet, she rested her head back against the wall and stretched her legs out in front of her. It was nice to sit down, even nicer to have a cold drink of water and Sheelagh to relax with. It occurred to her that they hadn't discussed anything that had happened today but, somehow, Sheelagh knew that she knew about the resolution and it could fade into history if they wanted to let it. The companionable silence stretched between them, broken only by George Michael on the radio, and Sam found herself dangerously content.

'I wrote my resignation today,' Sheelagh said suddenly.

Sam's head snapped sideways. 'Excuse me?'

Resting a hand on her leg, Sheelagh replied, 'Don't worry, the Super ripped it up. But I was so desperate to leave, I wanted to walk without working my notice.'

Part of Sam's brain was trying to process all this information and the rest of her was befuddled by the pressure of Sheelagh's fingers on her thigh. Finally, she asked, 'Why didn't you talk to me?'

Sheelagh let out a soft chuckle. 'You would've tried to talk me out of it.'

'Damn right I would,' she answered.

'And I would've succumbed to it,' Sheelagh said with a smile.

Absorbing that, Sam covered Sheelagh's hand with her own. While being out of the loop nettled her, she understood her reasoning. She would've expended every effort persuading Sheelagh not to leave Sun Hill, though it might've been in her own interests and not Sheelagh's. After all, given everything she'd been through in the last year, perhaps a transfer to another nick would be the best thing. A fresh start at work to go with the new house. Selfishly, though, Sam would've battled to keep her close.

'I told Reg I had nothing left but the job,' continued Sheelagh after a minute and Sam looked up apprehensively. 'That's not true.'

'No,' Sam returned lightly, nodding at the wall, 'you've got lopsided picture hooks and flaking paint.'

'That's right,' Sheelagh said, her lips twitching.

This was another of those moments, Sam realised. They were sat in the bedroom of an unoccupied house, completely shattered and at ease with each other. Both of them looked a mess and it really didn't matter. It was so tempting to admit the truth and, from the expression in Sheelagh's eyes, she might even get a positive reaction. But that would be the point of no return, wouldn't it? She'd spent so long toying with the idea that the reality terrified her all of a sudden.

When she stood, she tried to ignore the flash of confusion that crossed Sheelagh's face. 'Are you hungry yet?' she questioned.

With a wince Sheelagh dragged herself to her feet. 'How do you fancy pizza? Someone stuck a leaflet through the door.'

'Sounds good,' Sam said and dug her hands into her pockets, looking around for something to do. She spied the vacuum cleaner and suggested, 'Why don't you order and I'll get started on the living room?'

'What do you want?' Sheelagh called after her as she lugged the vacuum towards the staircase.

'Surprise me,' she shot back.

Downstairs, she busied herself with the hoovering and began to feel a little more in control. She was relieved that Sheelagh didn't follow her; she wasn't certain how to explain this one without crossing the line. The more she thought about doing that, the more ludicrous it seemed.

The doorbell rang half an hour later and she took delivery of the pizzas just as Sheelagh descended the staircase. Whatever she'd ordered smelled delicious, even if the only place to eat was the recently vacuumed living room floor. They sat cross-legged on the carpet with the pizza box and a portion of chips between them, Sam hungrily tucking in.

'Made the right choice then,' Sheelagh commented, her voice laced with amusement.

'Pepperoni's my favourite,' she explained. Then she added with a grimace, 'I also skipped lunch.'

Sheelagh threw her a look but concentrated on her own food. It was all demolished within ten minutes then Sam scooped the rubbish together and went outside in search of the wheelie bin. Back in the house, she found Sheelagh hovering in the kitchen and recognised the anxiety in her shoulders.

'What can I do next?' she asked.

Jumping, Sheelagh turned around. 'I don't know.'

'Listen,' Sam said carefully, 'it's going to be okay. You've had a lousy year but this is the fresh start you need. You've got to look forward and I know how hard it is to even contemplate but I'm really proud of you.'

'I'm scared,' Sheelagh admitted. 'I'm petrified.'

'I know,' Sam said. 'That's why it's so brave.'

For a moment she thought Sheelagh was going to argue on that point but her mobile beeping diverted her. She looked down at the message and sighed before looking up at Sam.

'You might as well go,' she said. 'Patrick's bringing the boys round to help with the furniture. You don't want to be around for that.'

Reading between the lines, Sam decoded that Sheelagh was the one who didn't want her in that volatile situation with Patrick and the boys. However, that correlated perfectly with her own feelings – she didn't want to spend more time with Connor than she had to until she'd worked on her poker face a little more.

'I could do with getting home and showering,' she answered. 'I stink of disinfectant.'

'You do,' Sheelagh agreed.

Sam grinned and returned to the hallway to get her jacket from the banister. Slotting it on, she remarked, 'I buy you dinner and you're still cheeky. What do I have to do to get some respect around here?'

'I think that ship's sailed,' said Sheelagh as she opened the front door and let in a gust of cool air. 'Thanks for your help.'

'I'll see you tomorrow,' Sam replied.

She knew Sheelagh was watching her as she walked to the car. In the recent past that thought had warmed her but there was something different tonight. It panicked her a bit and she made a conscious effort to leave the street as quickly as possible. It was strange, she realised as she drove home, how things had shifted, in her head if not in reality. As long as Sheelagh needed her support, she'd been fine. Looking after her was something she could do but what happened next? She'd broken up her marriage, Niamh and Des were gone... There were no more crises on the horizon. A period of calm would lead to Sheelagh looking more circumspectly at the other things around her. Sam knew how perceptive she could be; it was only a matter of time before things came to a head. At the moment, she knew she'd do almost anything to avoid that conversation. She simply couldn't face it.


Manson was back in work the next day and Sam had to say she was relieved to return to her own duties. She was working a burglary with Rob that mostly involved getting him to chase leads while she tried to combat her mountain of paperwork. It was a system she found to be working well, albeit with the small caveat that they were no nearer to arresting the burglar because Rob was as much use as a chocolate teapot.

She was startled mid-morning when an open catalogue of vases slapped down on the desk in front of her.

'Help me out here, Sarge,' Tony said.

'The green would really bring out your eyes,' she retorted.

He snorted and pulled up a chair from Eva's abandoned desk. 'Nice of you to notice.'

Chuckling, she flicked through a couple of pages and asked, 'What am I looking for?'

'Housewarming present for Sergeant Murphy,' he explained. 'I've got permission from Inspector Gold to nip out to the department store this afternoon but I haven't got a clue. I thought a vase or a bowl or something but...'

As he trailed off, Sam took a more active interest in the catalogue. She looked critically at the ornaments then turned another page and halted. There was a purple mosaic bowl that she knew instinctively Sheelagh would adore and tapped the picture.

'Is this in your budget?' she asked.

'Fiver short,' he answered.

She pulled out her purse and extracted a twenty. 'Throw in a bottle of wine, Shiraz if possible. That's her favourite.'

Grinning, he stood, taking the catalogue and the money with him. 'Much appreciated, Sarge.'

Rob came through with a tangible lead on the burglary and they went out with uniform in the afternoon to arrest the guy. True to form, things didn't exactly go to plan and Sam found herself dodging rubbish bins as she chased the suspect down an alley, only for Rob to get the glory by rugby-tackling him in the middle of the road. He liked the Action Man routine and she was content to let him revel in it, as long as he didn't muck the result up in the meantime. The paperwork from the arrest took her the rest of the shift to complete and she was glad to get out of the building without running into Sheelagh once.

When she got home, she found Abi in front of the television and left her there while she tackled the mountain of plates and cutlery that seemed to mount up whenever they were in the house together. She was attacking what she assumed was Monday's curry when she heard the doorbell ring. Abi called that she'd get it and Sam continued taking the lining off the bottom of the pan, wondering whether it'd be wiser to just buy a new one.

Then Abi shouted, 'Mum!'

Groaning, she reached for the tea towel, drying her hands as she walked through to the hallway. She was startled to see Sheelagh stood beyond Abi and she had to swallow down her surprise.

'Let her in, Abi,' she said. Then, as Sheelagh stepped over the threshold, she asked, 'Is everything all right?'

'I didn't mean to intrude,' Sheelagh said.

'You're always welcome, you know that,' she answered.

Digging into her pocket, Sheelagh withdrew an envelope. 'I'm afraid I forgot about this. Eva asked me to pass it on before she left.'

'Really?' Sam stretched past Abi and took the envelope, acutely aware of her daughter's curious gaze. 'Why not post it or leave it in internal mail?'

'I'm hoping that might make sense when you read it,' Sheelagh replied with a shrug. 'All she told me was that it might have more of an impact coming from me, I don't know what she meant by that. Anyway, I'll leave you to it.'

'Don't be silly,' Sam said quickly. 'I'm not kicking you onto the streets. I'll put the kettle on. Tea or coffee?'

'I'll do it,' Abi said, closing the front door.

'No, no,' Sam replied, 'you two sit down. Tea, Sheelagh?'

Smiling, Sheelagh nodded and Sam fled into the kitchen, the envelope crumpled in her hand. She went through the motions of boiling the kettle and getting two mugs out of the cupboard, all the while her mind racing. She wasn't usually one for deferring anything, preferring to get good and bad news out in the open so she could deal with it. However, Sheelagh was the exception to that rule, she had been from the very beginning, and Sam turned the envelope over a few times in her hands before the growing hum of the kettle warned she was running out of time. Reluctantly, she slid her finger under the flap and ripped the letter open. The piece of Sun Hill notepaper was only half-full of Eva's lopsided scrawl but it packed a punch.

'Sam, if I said any of this to your face I reckon you'd laugh at me. Hopefully you'll pay more attention to it written down. I want you to be happy. You love Sheelagh and, God help her, she loves you as well. I know it's something you're trying not to accept but I've seen it. Way back when the Glenn thing kicked off and I knew who he was before her, she was jealous. I've seen the way she looks at you, the way you are together. Don't let your fear get in the way. Yeah, it won't be easy but nothing worth having is. CALL ME if you need to talk, you don't get rid of me this easily.'

Somehow, her feet had taken her to the doorway and she was watching Sheelagh and Abi chatting animatedly on the sofa, though she wasn't listening to the words. Eva's advice ringing in her ears and the letter clutched in her hand, she was struck by how natural, how beautiful, it seemed. Abi suddenly looked over, her forehead creased, and Sam shrank back into the kitchen.

She tucked the letter into her pocket and hurried up with the tea. When she stepped into the living room, she passed Sheelagh her mug and tried to appear as unconcerned as possible as she slotted into the armchair. Though she expected Abi to excuse herself, she apparently wasn't keen on the idea and nestled back on the sofa with her phone.

There was a question in Sheelagh's face – no doubt about the letter she'd just delivered – but she didn't ask it. Instead she said, 'I think I've got you to thank for my housewarming present.'

'Oh?' Sam queried, trying to relax.

'Mmm,' returned Sheelagh, 'it was the wine that tipped me off, although I don't think Tony had quite the eye for what would look good in my new kitchen.'

Attempting to mask her flush, she replied, 'Well, if I fancy a career change, I can always go into interior design.'

Abi snorted in the corner. 'I'd love to see that.'

Sheelagh threw her an amused look and Sam was reminded of Christmas Day in the hospital with Niamh. That memory cast a shadow over her face and she knew Sheelagh spotted the flicker. Nevertheless, she didn't draw attention to it, instead changing the subject entirely and talking to Abi about her career plans. Connor was apparently working part-time as an electrician while finishing his college course, something Sam suspected she should've known. The lack of information she had about Sheelagh's kids brought her to earth with a bump. It was a chasm between them, one she wasn't certain Sheelagh was ever going to bridge. And why was that?

Sam didn't participate much in the conversation at all but she was a skilled observer and watched Sheelagh surreptitiously while pretending to be half-reading one of Abi's magazines. By the time Sheelagh rose to leave half an hour had passed and Sam found herself reluctant to see her go.

'You'll have to come see the new place,' Sheelagh said to Abi as the three of them stood by the door. 'Give Miss Interior Designer over here some tips on what really works.'

Abi smiled and gave her a hug. 'I will, thanks.'

After looking between them, Abi diplomatically slipped back into the living room and Sam exhaled. She allowed herself to step a little closer to Sheelagh, Eva's words ricocheting around her skull. The way Sheelagh's head tilted to the side was almost irresistible, all it would take was –

Sam cleared her throat. 'I'm glad you like the bowl.'

The way Sheelagh sighed told her that her reticence had been noted but she couldn't take a risk, no matter what Eva and Gina were saying. Sam pulled the door open and saw Sheelagh out onto the path, watching her turn around and simultaneously anticipating and dreading what she might ask.

'Will you come round for dinner sometime?' questioned Sheelagh. 'Both of you.'

'Course,' she answered.

To hide the longing she was sure occupied her face she made sure to shut the door before Sheelagh even reached the car. That was probably noted too but she was too frayed around the edges to do anything about it. Her instinct was to climb the stairs and escape but, peeking into the living room, she found that Abi had gone through into the kitchen and seemed to be finishing the washing-up. That gave Sam the opportunity to sit down on the sofa, warm from Sheelagh's presence, and close her eyes.

'Mum,' Abi said quietly, 'tell me the truth.'

Sam jumped and opened her eyes, distracted but trying to battle it. 'What, sweetheart?'

Standing in the doorway, Abi crossed her arms. 'I've never seen you look at someone like that before.'

The words rippled through her like a blade, though her impulse was still to feign ignorance. 'What do you mean?' she asked lightly.

'Don't treat me like a child,' Abi retorted. 'Sheelagh – I'm talking about Sheelagh.'

'I still don't know what you mean,' she lied.

'Stop it,' snapped Abi. 'Be honest with me. You owe me that, remember.'

The expression on her daughter's face was a warning, reminiscent of their fights over the Glenn issue and likely to be just as successful from Abi's point of view. One thing she knew about her daughter was that one she got the bit between her teeth she was a nightmare. It was one of the things she wished they didn't have in common, especially at moments like this.

'Okay,' she said finally. 'What do you want to know?'

'You love her, don't you?' Abi questioned.

Hearing the words aloud shocked her. She only let them run through her head when she couldn't help it and Abi had shattered her defences in a stroke. Resting back into the sofa, she tried to fathom a way of dodging the subject now she'd allowed Abi to open the door. She couldn't find one.

Eventually, she murmured, 'Yep.'

Abi watched her for a long moment, conflicting emotions evident on her face. Then she said, 'So are you –'

'No,' she cut in, 'it's just her, it's just Sheelagh.'

'How long?' asked Abi following a protracted pause.

'A while,' she answered with a weak smile.

'She doesn't know,' Abi said.

'Of course not,' Sam replied.

'You say that so matter-of-fact.' Abi frowned and dug her fingers into her arms. 'You love her, Mum. I mean, I should've guessed before,' she rushed on. 'You've been different ever since she got to Sun Hill. At the hospital with Niamh you were so... It didn't make sense, but it does now. I think I saw it then, I just didn't understand it.'

Sam shivered. Gina, Eva, Jack, Manson, Connor, now Abi – how was she so transparent? She swallowed and tried to work out a way to bring this conversation to a swift conclusion. She hated herself for being so weak, unable to dodge questions from her own daughter and letting her in on a secret that she would've much rather kept hidden. Now she'd opened up a whole new can of worms and she wondered what Abi would do with them.

'Why wouldn't you tell her?' questioned Abi abruptly.

Brushing an unexpected tear from her cheek, she muttered, 'Oh, sweetheart, it's not that simple.'

'Tell me what I'm missing,' Abi demanded. 'You love her and I think that... She does,' she continued firmly after the briefest of pauses, 'she feels the same, doesn't she?'

'Listen,' Sam said, sitting forward in an attempt to regain control of the situation, 'none of this is important, okay? It's not something I wanna discuss, especially not with you.'

Snorting, Abi pushed off from the door jamb and paced across the room. When she turned to face her the steam was practically spurting from her ears. 'You're incredible, you know that?' she queried. 'How can you sit there and say it's not important when it's – it's hurting you? I can see that! The way you looked at her, Mum, it's so –'

'All right, Abi,' she interrupted, jumping up and grasping her daughter's arms, 'stop. Please, stop.'

'Why?' Abi pressed. 'Am I making you uncomfortable?'

'Yeah,' she admitted with a pained smile. 'You want me to be honest with you? Okay, okay... Look, I've known for months how I feel about Sheelagh but it doesn't make a blind bit of difference in reality. I would do anything for her,' she added, feeling fresh tears in her eyes, 'which is why I can't tell her the truth. I care about her too much to put her through that.'

After scrutinising her face, Abi said, 'I don't understand. You haven't denied that she feels the same way about you.'

Sam let her hands fall and answered, 'I think she does. I haven't asked her but...yeah, I think she does.'

'Then I'm still not getting it,' Abi replied. The expression on her face was like looking in a mirror; determination mingled badly with confusion. 'Tell me why you're not doing anything about it.'

For a minute Sam didn't speak. She allowed her gaze to wander around the living room, picturing those pie-in-the-sky fantasies she'd indulged in and feeling the familiar ache in her chest. It didn't matter what Eva had written or what Gina had said or even the way Abi was glaring at her right now – they couldn't alter reality, could they?

'She might feel the same,' she said finally, 'but she hasn't realised it and she won't. It's not something she'd be comfortable with. It doesn't fit into her life, it certainly doesn't fit into her religion. There's no good can come out of telling her, sweetheart. All it'd do is end our friendship and I don't want that to happen.'

'You don't know that's what'd happen,' murmured Abi.

'I do,' she returned, rubbing her forehead. 'Come on, don't you think I've thought about it? It's not worth the risk.'

Abi gazed at her incredulously. 'Not worth it? Are you actually serious?'

The disappointment in her daughter's face startled her; it had been a while since she'd experienced it at full force. It was the same look she'd got when Abi realised she'd lied about her father being a one night stand – complete and utter disbelief.

'Let me tell you something,' Abi went on after a couple of seconds, her voice trembling. 'You can't keep a lid on this, Mum. You can try being Sheelagh's friend but it won't work. She's smart, she's... You know she'll figure it out. I mean, I did, didn't I? Why do you think she won't?'

Sam found she didn't really have an answer to that. She retreated to the sofa, wrapping her arms across her stomach and feeling far more like the teenager in this relationship than she appreciated.

'You're scared,' continued Abi, 'aren't you? So you're doing what you always do. Hide away and decide you won't deal with it until you have to. That way you'll lose Sheelagh anyway because you'll push her away. Why wait, hmm?' she persisted. 'Why not just push her away now and get it over with?'

'Because I'm weak,' she answered softly.

That took some of the wind out of Abi's sails. She came to sit beside her, voice kinder as she asked, 'What do you mean – weak?'

Sam glanced sideways, drained by this whole conversation and needing it to be over. She suspected the only way she'd get her wish was if she was completely honest with her inquisitive daughter.

'I like it, Abi,' she said. 'I like having her close. I like the fantasy, even though I know that's all it can ever be. I like looking after her, I like caring.'

'How does that make you weak?' Abi pushed.

'I'm indulging myself,' she replied with a wry shake of the head. 'I'm letting myself live with the hope when I know it's false. It's probably one of the worst things I could do, for both of us.'

'But it doesn't have to be false hope, Mum,' said Abi, squeezing her hand. 'Why can't you just try?'

Sniffing, she murmured, 'I promise you, sweetheart, I'm doing the right thing.'

'And you always think that, don't you?' Abi retorted, the bite back in her tone. Standing, she moved towards the door and then glanced back. 'You're being a coward. You've been happy since you met Sheelagh, different. Don't you think we could all be happy together?'

'Don't, Abi,' she whispered. 'Please.'

'You're being a coward,' she repeated before she stormed out of the room. Sam felt the house reverberate as she stamped up the stairs and heard the clash of her bedroom door. Then everything was quiet.


It was fortunate she had a couple of days off. She wasn't sure she'd be able to keep her mask intact if she was forced to go into the nick, possibly bumping into Sheelagh around every corner. Given the food for thought provided by Abi and Eva, on top of that provided by Gina and Manson in the recent past, she needed the time to process. Instead of staying cooped up in the house, though, she went for a drive out of London, ending up in Dover, for reasons she wasn't quite certain of. She parked up at the cliffs and dug her emergency fleece out of the boot to keep her warm in the atmosphere that still hadn't made the switch from winter to spring. Then she took a walk along the cliff paths, allowing the wind to whip through her hair and the salt to tickle her eyes.

The conclusion that had been circling since she left Sheelagh's new house the other night was solidifying with every passing minute. Abi was right with what she'd said – it was only a matter of time before Sheelagh worked out what was going on. There was no way to conceal it permanently and Sam herself had already conceded that it would be harder to keep under wraps now that Sheelagh had time to think about what was wrong. Her powers of perception weren't something Sam was in any doubt about and the fact that something was going on had been identified several times already. It might have been superseded by the traumas that she'd suffered in recent months but Sheelagh was far from stupid and she cared – that was a dangerous combination.

Something had to change, she knew that. Thanks to Gina and Eva, she knew for sure that her suspicion that Sheelagh felt the same wasn't just wishful thinking on her part. She couldn't doubt three experienced coppers on this, even if she'd like to carry on burying her head in the sand. However, that didn't alter her innate belief that telling Sheelagh wouldn't yield any results. That's what Sam was all about, after all. Why push for something that had a miniscule chance of success? That wasn't part of her MO and it would be messy. It wasn't just that she couldn't picture herself saying the words, she also couldn't imagine the conversation afterwards. Sheelagh would probably be nice about it, nice but horrified by the very idea. And that would be the end of their friendship.

Unless... Sam knew she'd accepted all this readily enough herself. She hadn't the religious baggage Sheelagh had, nor had she been assailed by wave after wave of crap in the last six months. She'd been more open to it than she suspected Sheelagh could be, at least initially. However, hearing it out loud, being forced to confront it, could it change things long-term? Sam could play the waiting game, she was adept at that. If there was the slightest chance that Sheelagh could come round to the idea then shouldn't she grab onto it?

Slowing to a halt, she turned and looked across the sea, watching the waves tumble together. She was used to dealing in evidence so she laid it out plainly.

Sheelagh had demonstrated she loved her in numerous little ways, long before Sam had even been aware of her own feelings. Gina had said that it had been there from the start in one form or another and she was right. Sam knew that from her side and it was as evident when she looked at Sheelagh's behaviour.

Nobody else had punctured through Sam's defences in the way Sheelagh had, nobody had ever wanted to. There must've been something there from the beginning, something that had prompted Sheelagh to comfort her about Joanna Sharpe's disappearance in the bathroom. Not only had she busted through, she'd stayed. During the whole Abi and Glenn debacle Sam would freely admit she'd been a nightmare to be around and she'd made a concerted effort to push Sheelagh away but she'd forgiven her without reservation afterwards. From Eva's letter, it seemed that the only reason she'd succeeded in driving a temporary wedge between them in the first place was because Sheelagh was jealous of her apparently favouring Eva over her. That jealousy was significant, as significant as the way Sheelagh had turned to her time and again since her affair with Des.

Emotionally, then, the evidence told her that Sheelagh was connected to her. But there was more to a relationship than that. Sam knew that she was physically attracted to Sheelagh but was that reciprocated?

Yes, she admitted to herself with a soft smile. She knew that Sheelagh unconsciously reached out to her. Just the other day on the custody desk Sheelagh had been toying with her sleeve, instinctively gravitating closer just as Sam knew she did herself. No, that was two boxes ticked. It was just that Sheelagh didn't recognise either of them yet.

Perhaps Abi was right. She was being a coward and she wasn't giving Sheelagh the opportunity to come to terms with what was going on. Didn't she owe it to both of them to lay the cards on the table and see what happened? Gina, Eva and Abi were all telling her to try. Wasn't it cowardly not to? She remembered the ABBA song that had been playing when she'd driven Sheelagh home after their first of three meals together. Sheelagh had been right – it was an apt song. Perhaps it was time to start paying attention to it. Turning on her heel, she began the long trek back to the car.


When she next walked into the nick, she felt strange. Even though she hadn't made a concrete decision about what she was going to do, it felt as if she had. She went upstairs to drop her bag then got caught up in a conversation with Ken about Nick Klein being forced into witness protection thanks to an altercation with Dennis Weaver. It was another one of those sticky situations that could be traced back to Phil Hunter and Sam was quietly furious. Despite his addiction problems, Nick had rehabilitated himself and if it was a straight choice between Phil and Nick, she knew who'd she pick.

That gossip led into a serious discussion on current cases and Ken volunteered to come with her to arrest a suspect who was back in the country. She didn't have much opportunity to think while they were out, though finding Sheelagh on custody when they brought the guy in flustered her. When they approached the desk, she saw Sheelagh's concern and that just made her flush all the more.

'Are you okay?' Sheelagh whispered.

Her stomach somersaulted and she swallowed hard. 'Can we talk?' she asked, barely recognising her own voice. 'Not now, I just...'

As she trailed off Sheelagh glanced at the prisoner and Ken then smiled. 'Sure, let me book this fella in and we can –'

'Talk about talking,' Sam cut in with a self-conscious chuckle. 'Yeah, I'll wait over here. Ken?'

He was looking between them a little bemused. 'Yeah, yeah, I've got this, Sarge.'

Feeling like a goofy teenager, she retreated to the wall, resting her shoulder against it and watching Sheelagh go through the process of booking the suspect in. She was entranced and, from the way Sheelagh was peeking at her, she seemed intrigued and perhaps a little buoyant. It was like something out of a rom-com and Sam wished her stomach would settle down.

'You know,' a voice said beside her, 'Sheelagh's a very attractive woman.'

She stiffened, every fibre of her being wanting to body-slam Neil Manson into the custody desk. With great difficulty, she moderated her tone and said, quite evenly, 'I suppose so.'

'Oh, don't be coy,' he replied in that slimy voice of his. 'But I have to say, it won't do your career any good.'

'I don't know what you mean,' she said.

'Let me put it a little more plainly,' Manson said. 'The fact that you're down here mooning over one of the uniform sergeants suggests you've crossed a line, Samantha. You're putting your emotions above the job and I'm not having it.'

Finally, she spun to face him. 'You're out of line, Guv.'

'Prove me wrong,' he said, slotting his hands into his pockets. 'Then you might have a chance of staying at Sun Hill. I want coppers on my team who are after results, not their colleagues out of their uniforms.'

She was overtaken by another blush and couldn't help but look in the direction of the desk. Sheelagh had noted Manson's presence and was biting her lip as she shot them anxious glances across custody. Sam didn't like the way this situation was going and she straightened herself up, eager to extricate herself.

'What is it you want, Guv?' she questioned.

'I want you to get your head out of the clouds,' he retorted, 'and get back to work. Or you'll be out of here by the end of the week.'

With that, he shot her another one of his malicious grins and disappeared along the corridor. She stood motionless then her gaze swivelled back to Sheelagh on the desk. Ken was talking to the prisoner and she was looking straight at her in a way that made Sam's chest ache.

It was obvious Sheelagh expected her to walk back over there but she couldn't. Manson's words, as engineered as they patently were to hurt her, had nevertheless triggered a wave of doubt that left her immobile. Suddenly, her notion of taking Sheelagh out for a meal and talking about this maturely seemed ridiculous. What did she think was going to happen? Things would blow up, that's what'd happen. Sheelagh wasn't going to melt into her arms; at best she was going to run quietly in the opposite direction. But if Manson got wind of anything like that then she'd be out on her ear, wouldn't she? Her hopes of letting this play out over time were naive to say the least. It'd be a disaster.

Sheelagh rounded the desk, stepping towards her. Sam felt herself backing away before she was truly aware of it and she dragged her eyes from Sheelagh's anxious expression as she barrelled through the double-doors and headed in the direction of the back staircase.

On her way past Gina's office she must've been spotted because the next thing she knew a hand was pulling her back down the stairs. She felt completely out of control as she looked up, something she didn't appreciate one bit. Although she tried to regulate her breathing, she knew she looked like a fleeing suspect and she hated it.

'What's wrong?' Gina asked. 'What's happened?'

'I can't do it,' she replied, pinching the bridge of her nose. 'I can't tell her the truth and I can't be her friend. I'm done, Gina, I really am. I can't do this anymore.'

Frowning, Gina pressed, 'What's brought this on?'

'Reality,' she said shortly. 'Look, she doesn't need me anymore. I've gotta focus on the job. I would've thought you of all people would understand that,' she added.

Gina sighed and crossed her arms. 'I think you're running scared.'

'Maybe,' she conceded, returning to the staircase and gripping the banister like a lifejacket. 'But this is better all round. I'm not living in fantasy-land anymore. It's hurting me and it's hurting her. I'm just getting out while I can.'

She felt Gina's disapproval follow her up the stairs but was grateful that she didn't try to stop her. Now she'd made her decision she needed to stick to it – and that meant burying her nose in her work as soon as she possibly could and for