Sheelagh wasn't stupid. She knew when someone was avoiding her, especially when that person happened to be her closest friend.

It was as though someone had flicked a switch in Samantha Nixon's brain and Sheelagh could pinpoint the exact moment it had happened. Sam and Ken had brought a prisoner in and there'd been something strange in Sam's face, something unfamiliar yet familiar at the same time. If she'd been asked to explain what was in that expression Sheelagh would've struggled but she instinctively knew it was the most open Sam had ever been with her. It was the antidote to all those little moments of confusion that stretched back months – she finally got the feeling Sam was ready to open up to her and she was grateful that her patience had paid off. Sam's bashful request that they 'talk about talking' had melted her heart at the same time as confusing Ken and Sheelagh had worked through the booking-in of the prisoner whilst being acutely aware of Sam watching her from across the corridor. Whatever information she wanted to share, Sheelagh was under no illusion how important it was.

Then the switch had been flipped. She'd seen Manson approach Sam out of the corner of her eye and seen the alteration in her pose instantly. Sam had gone from open to panicked to closed as a book within the space of a minute. Paying close attention, Sheelagh had watched Manson slope off along the corridor, leaving a completely different Samantha Nixon in his wake. She backed away, as if she was retreating from a wild animal, then turned and fled in the most bizarre way imaginable. There were a few comparable moments in her friendship with Sam but nothing as vehement as that. Sheelagh couldn't understand it but her instinct was to try and fathom it out.

However, Sam had disappeared – at least from Sheelagh's orbit. Whereas before they used to cross paths all the time, now it was as though Sam deliberately planned out her time to avoid meeting her. Of course, it had taken a couple of days for that to sink in. At first, Sheelagh had put it down to clashing schedules and perhaps some conflict with Manson. She wasn't about to go upstairs and question Sam on what was wrong; she'd assumed that everything would right itself. Sure, it frustrated her that the closest she'd got to some insight on what was troubling Sam had been snatched away, apparently by Neil Manson, but she didn't doubt they'd circle back around to it. This thing that was bothering Sam was certainly something she wanted to share and Sheelagh was more than willing to listen – she just needed another opportunity.

The more time passed, though, the more she realised she wasn't going to get that opportunity. It seemed that Sam was dead-set on distancing herself and Sheelagh's confusion mingled badly with her hurt pride. On the one hand, she missed Sam intensely. It was impossible to go from having such a close connection with someone to not seeing them or hearing from them at all. That would be the case even if they hadn't been almost inseparable lately with all the pain around Niamh and Des prompting Sam to practically carry her through the last few months of her life. It was a strange adjustment to make and it was fortunate that Sheelagh was feeling more mentally able to cope or she might've struggled without her ever-present support. Then again, the thought niggled that Sam still wouldn't let that happen. You didn't do all that Sam had done for her in the last year then disappear without caring what happened next. She knew Samantha Nixon and she knew she'd still be paying attention because, whatever else was going on, Sheelagh instinctively knew how much she cared. That's why none of this made any sense.

That said, she wouldn't – and couldn't – just ask her outright what was going on. After all, Sam had made a conscious decision to put this distance between them and, frankly, that hurt. Sheelagh had assumed after all this time that Sam wasn't going to do this again. It was ridiculously reminiscent of how she'd pushed her away about Glenn and Sheelagh could only assume it was something as jaw-dropping as that which had prompted this sudden alteration in attitude. She found herself pondering the situation a lot as she went through her daily routines and tried to make her new house feel like a home. She couldn't help but feel isolated and took to working longer shifts than was strictly necessary, half in the hope of seeing Sam, though she wouldn't admit that to anyone. Confused and lonely, she tried looking at the information logically, the way Samantha herself would.

It hadn't bothered her so much that Eva seemed to be in the loop when she wasn't, at least not at first. Now, however, it was grating on her. She ran that conversation with Eva over in her mind numerous times, trying to tease out the details. It was the mention of Manson that struck her most, especially the cryptic comment about him being more of a symptom than a cause of the trouble. Coupled with Sam's altercation with him, Sheelagh couldn't help but be led to a bit of an ugly conclusion. After all, she'd acknowledged that work, children and romance were the main cornerstones of a woman's life so wasn't the obvious conclusion that Sam had some sort of thing for Manson?

Once she got over the nausea that idea induced she began to consider it a little more carefully. It was true, of course, that Manson had shaken CID up beyond recognition and that Sam was understandably smarting at both being passed over for her own job and the way she'd been treated since her demotion. But attraction was a funny thing. How else could Sheelagh's own dalliance with Des be explained? Opposites attracted, that was a fact of life. Or how could she and Sam be such good friends? It was plausible that Sam might like Manson, and that might explain why she'd clammed up after a conversation with him. It could be that she'd been about to confide in Sheelagh and his words had shaken it out of her in some way or another. Funny, Sheelagh could stretch to believing that Sam was attracted to Manson but she couldn't imagine an actual relationship of any kind. She didn't know if that was her being squeamish or what; maybe it was just that she didn't believe Manson wanted anything else beyond making Sam's life a misery. Unless that was an act – perhaps there was an underbelly up in CID that Sheelagh wasn't aware of. That wasn't a stretch, she supposed, but the idea made her feel faintly sick again. No, for her own sanity she had to assume that it was a one-sided crush on Sam's part. Not that it made the prospect any nicer but she could about understand an unwanted attraction to someone who repulsed you in every other sense.

It was all idle speculation and, even if it was the truth, Sheelagh didn't quite understand the impulse that Sam had to keep this to herself. It could all be concern about burdening her, of course; something that Eva had all but confirmed. And, besides, if Sheelagh delved too far into the situation her copper's brain began picking holes in the theory. She'd known something was wrong with Sam for a while and the evidence had been mounting since before Manson's arrival at the nick. One instance that sprang to mind was when Cass Rickman's memorial tree had been planted. Sam was still ADI at that point because Sheelagh remembered visiting her in the office, not to mention being heavily pregnant at the time. So perhaps this wasn't about Manson. However, if that was the case then Sheelagh really didn't have the foggiest what was going on and it was starting to really irritate her.

A bomb scare that turned into an actual bomb blast was always a nightmare to deal with. Sheelagh hadn't been involved in the incident personally but she knew all about it. This afternoon the internal investigation was underway and Sheelagh overheard Gina complaining to the Super about not being allowed to interview her own team. However, he was adamant that Sam was the right person to deal with it and the relief were popping in and out of CID all afternoon giving their interviews. Sheelagh didn't know how the investigation was going beyond the fact that she was struggling to keep track of her officers. It was one of those situations where, before, Sam would've come downstairs and talked it out with her, just like she had about the accusations against Gemma Osbourne and Polly Page. Sheelagh felt the distance, mourning and resenting the mess in equal measure. One thing was for sure - she didn't like this new relationship she had with DS Nixon and she wanted to know what on earth was going on. However, that was a debate for another day. From the anxious faces she saw dotted around the station she suspected this bomb investigation was more than enough to keep Sam busy.

Late afternoon, she was in the Sergeants' Office trying to catch-up with her paperwork and also deal with Smithy's while he was AWOL thanks to the fact he was the senior officer on the scene at the blast. Anything she could take off his plate would help and she knew he'd do the same were their roles reversed. It had been a difficult job and, as tough as Smithy was, it had to have impacted him. Why else would he have disappeared?

For the first time in days she caught sight of a familiar flash of blonde hair walking past her window. Sheelagh stiffened, wondering if she was going to carry straight on without a glance but she didn't. She stuck her head through the door, albeit with a guarded expression on her face.

'Have you seen Gina?' she questioned.

Her tone was friendly enough but it was a professional kind of friendly that didn't suit the supposed closeness of their relationship. For a moment Sheelagh was thrown. She'd expected something else, something that either explained the sudden strain in their friendship or at least acknowledged it. But nothing in Sam's voice did that – they may as well have been passing colleagues.

'Erm...no,' Sheelagh answered finally. 'I'll tell her you're looking for...'

She trailed off as Gina stepped into view and Sam turned her attention to the inspector. Sheelagh felt redundant and wondered again what had happened to cause this.

'Ah, Gina,' Sam said, 'I need a word.' Hesitating, she glanced sideways and there was a flicker of the old Sam in that look. 'Actually, Sheelagh, I could do with your input on this, do you mind?'

Well, now she was confused. On the one hand, Sam was being professional and aloof while, on the other, she was quietly asking for her help in the same old way. It didn't make sense, although it did tell Sheelagh that Sam hadn't stop trusting her judgement. Equally, the way she bit down on her lip suggested anxiety; that, in turn, told Sheelagh that Sam hadn't stopped caring. It didn't help her work out what was going on but, somehow, it made a difference.

'Sure,' she said, earning the flash of a smile from Sam as she followed the pair of them across the corridor and closed the door.

While Gina and Sheelagh sat down, Sam rubbed her neck and took a turn around the office. 'We've got a problem,' she said. 'I've just been interviewing Cameron about the bomb. We couldn't place him before the blast,' she explained. 'He'd been tasked to keep the incident log but it was patchy on where he was directly before the bomb went off. Turned out he'd gone to talk to Kerry, something she neglected to mention in her interview.'

Gina let out a growl, a sentiment Sheelagh could well understand. Kerry had been isolating the bank manager who had the bomb strapped to his waist and should've been left completely alone to deal with that task. That Cameron had been anywhere near could've escalated the situation and encouraged distraction. This could be the difference between Sun Hill being cleared of any responsibility for the tragedy and being put under the glare of the DPS.

'We pushed him for answers,' Sam continued, crossing her arms. 'I mean, something like this puts the reputation of the entire nick at risk. It's a prime example of why relationships between officers don't work,' she added with a glance at Gina.

Sheelagh followed the look with interest, astronomically increased when she saw the flicker of disdain that crossed Gina's face. That drew Sheelagh's suspicions back towards a workplace romance, though the fact that Gina knew something about it perplexed her. As much as she respected Gina Gold, she wasn't the natural sympathetic ear, not like Eva undoubtedly was. Once again, Sheelagh felt a slither of confusion mingled with jealousy. Unless, of course, it was related to someone else, although that someone probably wasn't Gina Gold herself. It could even be a veiled dig at her affair with Des, Sheelagh realised belatedly, even if she doubted Sam would stoop to that. There was no way she'd invite her into this meeting to belittle her; that certainly wasn't her Samantha Nixon.

'Anyway,' Sam continued briskly, 'there was something else going on, we could see that. After a bit of pressure he admitted that Kerry should never have been given that job because she...'

'What?' Sheelagh probed gently. The way Sam suddenly looked over was full of gratitude and something else she couldn't place and Sheelagh couldn't help but smile softly at her. 'What did he say?' she asked.

'That Kerry had been raped,' answered Sam with a wince. Before either of them could respond, she held up a hand. 'Wait,' she said, 'there's more. The man she's accused is Smithy.'

'What?' Sheelagh and Gina said in unison.

'Yeah,' Sam muttered, 'that was my reaction. Even so, it came out in an official interview, it's on the record now. It needs to be treated as a potential crime.'

Gina stood up, anger etched on her face. 'I don't believe this.'

'In what sense?' Sam queried carefully.

'Smithy is not a rapist,' returned Gina.

Sam's attention turned. 'Sheelagh?'

'I agree,' she said without hesitation. 'Maybe gut instinct doesn't count for a lot in a case like this but I'd be very cautious approaching it.'

'Thank you,' Sam said, holding her gaze for a few seconds. Then she attempted a weak smile. 'Frankly, I don't wanna approach it with a barge pole but it's all intertwined. I have to finish investigating the bomb response and that includes interviewing Smithy. If anyone can track him down.' Sighing, she took a seat beside Sheelagh and looked back to her. 'Does that scream guilt to you?'

'No,' she answered. 'If I'd been the senior officer on that scene I might've done a runner myself. What were your instincts telling you about the case before all this?'

'That Andrea had been given a job well above her position,' Sam said with a shrug. 'She shouldn't be blamed for that but perhaps it wasn't entirely down to Smithy either. I'm still hoping CCTV from the scene can tell us more about what happened in the car park, what the victim was doing at the time of the explosion, that sort of thing. That Smithy isn't here worries me though,' she admitted.

'Understandable,' Sheelagh murmured. To her surprise, Sam briefly squeezed her wrist. It was as though the last week or so hadn't happened.

'Someone needs to escalate this,' Sam said after a moment, glancing towards Gina.

'Oh, right,' Gina said with a grim chuckle, 'now you're happy you're not DI anymore.'

'Pretty much,' retorted Sam.

Sighing, Gina scrubbed at her forehead. 'It's probably better coming from me anyway. My relief, my problem. You'll carry on with the official investigation?'

Sam nodded. 'I've got a few more people to interview and if you can find Smithy that'd be excellent. We need to square this away, Gina, the press are all over it.'

'I know, I know,' muttered Gina. 'Thanks for bringing it to me.'

Both Sheelagh and Sam rose and stepped towards the door. Sam opened it courteously and allowed Sheelagh out first then followed her into the corridor.

'Thanks for your input,' said Sam. 'I really appreciate it.'

'Sure,' she replied. 'Good luck with the rest of the investigation.'

A smile slipped onto Sam's face that felt so familiar. She stretched and rubbed Sheelagh's arm, the same old affection present in her eyes. Then she seemed to visibly banish it. Her smile became strained and she patted her arm awkwardly before stepping away.

'Thanks again,' she said before striding off along the corridor.

Sheelagh stared after her, more than a little confused. That wasn't Sam, that was DS Nixon. Much more of this Jekyll and Hyde personality routine was going to drive her round the twist. It was obvious that Sam still valued their friendship, still wanted to talk to her. So why on earth was she distancing herself like this?


The bomb investigation exonerated all Sun Hill officers of any wrongdoing but the rape allegation was less easily resolved. An anonymous source leaked it to the press and Smithy, despite protesting his innocence, was forced off on leave while the situation lingered on. That meant that Sheelagh's workload doubled while Kerry equivocated about whether or not she wanted to make it official. At least that was an excuse for why Sheelagh had done nothing in the last few weeks to sort out her problems with Sam. Her life consisted of working then getting home and trying to make some sort of connection with the boys. They were still alternating between staying with her and staying with Patrick, though she was under no illusions which house they preferred. Nevertheless, Patrick was doing his best to remedy the situation and she hugely appreciated his efforts. She kept telling herself that once things were better at work she'd have time to talk to the boys – Connor, especially – and talk to Samantha as well, come to think of it.

Now more time had passed it was completely obvious than ever that Sam was deliberately avoiding her. With all her experience of Sam, Sheelagh still didn't know how to approach this. Sure, they occasionally spoke about cases and she never got the impression that Sam's warm attitude towards her had completely disappeared, but it was as if she was actively trying to smother it. The longer this went on, of course, the trickier it was going to be to get any firm answer. They could easily just slip along in this new relationship in the same way they'd slipped along before and that scared her. It was a mark of how much she'd come to depend on Sam's presence that she missed her so much, even if her pride wouldn't allow her to admit that.

It was startling how quickly the year was wearing on. Sheelagh was living day-to-day and she suspected, from nothing other than instinct, that Sam was doing the same. It was a strange existence, though perhaps apt given the year they'd had.

CID had the beginnings of a big operation underway. Sheelagh didn't know any details, just felt the sense of purpose swarming around the building. From the little she saw of DI Manson as she went about her business, she deduced that he was particularly invested in this one, and she heard on the grapevine that both Sam and Debbie were involved in it. The fact that her information about Sam was now coming second-hand from the likes of Honey Harman irked her but she tried to mask it by throwing herself into her work again.

From the safety of her office late morning Sheelagh detected something of a stir. It wasn't the kind of stir that stemmed from the job; no, this was more of a gossip stir. For a while she'd been in need of a coffee break and she took the opportunity to wander down to the canteen and find out what had caused such a sensation. From the conversation between Honey and Yvonne she surmised that an Australian detective was in the nick, helping out with CID's big operation. Given their descriptions, she was anticipating another Russell Crowe around every corner as she returned to the office twenty minutes later. What she actually encountered was more perplexing.

She was just heading into her office when she heard a familiar laugh coming down the back staircase. It was flirtatious and stopped her in her tracks. Looking over, she saw Sam appear with what was obviously the Russell Crowe lookalike, the pair of them smiling together in a way that was oddly intimate.

Sam hadn't spotted her, deep in conversation as they were, but Sheelagh couldn't drag herself away in time. Consequently, when they drew level with her she was still standing motionless like an idiot, seeing a side of Sam that perplexed her.

Abruptly, Sam realised she was stood there watching and something flashed across her face that Sheelagh couldn't pinpoint. Then she drew to a halt and cleared her throat.

'Sheelagh,' she said, 'this is DI Peter Cavanaugh, he's working with us on a case.'

'Nice to meet you,' Sheelagh said to him, though she didn't extend a hand as she normally would. There was something holding her back but she'd be hard-pressed to explain what it was.

'I'm enjoying being here,' Cavanaugh returned.

When he glanced at Sam, Sheelagh almost felt her skin crawl. There was something about this man that set her teeth on edge. While she could understand what the likes of Honey were mooning over, the self-satisfied masculinity didn't appeal to her. Perhaps that was an aftershock of her affair with Des or maybe it was something else. However, Sam didn't seem to have the same problem, looking back at him in a manner that made Sheelagh feel abruptly like a third wheel.

Sam indicated along the corridor. 'The canteen's this way,' she said. Then her gaze slipped back to Sheelagh and she faltered. For a moment there it was – her Sam Nixon, her friend – then the flicker was gone and she was leading DI Cavanaugh towards the canteen with a spring in her step.

Sheelagh knew at this point she should really move out of the thoroughfare but she was openly staring after them. When a hand rested on her shoulder, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Turning, she found Gina beside her, looking in the same direction as she was.

'We must be the only women in the nick who haven't fallen head over heels,' Gina commented.

'I don't see the attraction,' she answered.

'No,' said Gina, 'I don't suppose you would. Anyway, chop chop, come on.'

With a faint smile, she returned to her office and tried to concentrate on her paperwork again. Nevertheless, she'd freely admit that she wasn't as focused now as she had been before that little interlude and it was all thanks to Samantha Nixon once more.

By the time the end of the shift rolled around she'd had enough and was grateful to pack up. Seeing that Gina was still sat at her desk, she bobbed her head around the door.

'Everything all right, Ma'am?' she questioned.

Gina glanced up and motioned her inside. 'How's the relief seem to you?'

'Divided,' she said honestly, sitting down. 'Is there any news on whether Kerry intends to pursue the allegation?'

'Nope,' Gina muttered, 'but I wish she'd make up her mind. I'm a sergeant short as long as this carries on.'

'Do you want me to have a word?' she asked. 'As a friendly face.'

'As opposed to me?' returned Gina with a wisp of a smile.

'Well, now you mention it...' she said. 'No, I just know you two have a bit of a personality clash.'

'That's one way of putting it,' Gina replied then her attention slipped beyond her shoulder. 'You looking for me?'

Sheelagh twisted and found Sam hovering in the doorway. The expression on her face was peculiar as she crossed the threshold.

'I just wondered if you'd seen Debbie,' she said to Gina.

Leaning back in her seat, Gina answered, 'From what I understand, she's studying law tonight with our resident CPS lawyer.'

Sheelagh's instinct was to exchange a look with Sam but, to her bemusement, it wasn't returned. In fact, Sam seemed to be gazing straight through her.

'I'll catch her tomorrow then,' she said, stepping back towards the corridor.

'Oi, oi,' Gina said quickly, bringing her back. 'Where's the heart throb?'

Sam flushed, something Sheelagh was far more familiar with than this bland ignorance. 'He's...gone.'

'I bet everyone upstairs is bereft,' remarked Gina.

'Mmm. I've gotta go actually,' Sam said. 'I'll see you tomorrow.'

Sheelagh watched her leave then settled further into her chair, wishing suddenly for the ground to swallow her up. If she'd thought the distance between them was painful this morning, it seemed intolerable now and, glancing up, she deduced that Gina recognised that.

'You all right?' she queried quietly.

She tried to shrug lightly. 'What am I, the invisible woman?' When Gina shifted in her seat she studied her a little more shrewdly. 'What's going on? You do know, don't you?'

'I've got enough on my plate,' Gina argued. 'Much as I'd like to be omniscient, Sheelagh, I'm not.'

'Why don't I believe that?' she retorted.

'Because you're a very suspicious woman,' said Gina.

'I wonder where I picked that up from,' she said pointedly.

With a sigh, Gina picked up her pen. 'I'll talk to the Super about Kerry and Smithy tomorrow. If I need your help, I'll let you know.'

Rising, Sheelagh just nodded. She knew a dismissal from Inspector Gold when she heard one, even if what she was being dismissed over something that she didn't quite understand. That Gina was in Sam's confidence wasn't surprising but it didn't sting the less for that.

Sheelagh went home, feeling heavier than she had in weeks. Connor was staying with her at the moment, grudgingly making his bedroom more his own with posters and the like. She ventured upstairs to talk to him, in a bid to distract herself as much as anything, but he wasn't exactly receptive to the idea. She retreated down to the kitchen and made them both dinner, aware of how artificial this whole mess was. Here she was, pretending they were a happy family when she'd broken up her family and refused a reconciliation when it was offered. Right now, she wasn't even sure why she'd done that. She felt unutterably lonely.

At work the next morning certain members of CID were absent. When she went upstairs to deliver a report she found Sam's desk empty, along with Debbie's workspace and Manson's office. Since she couldn't hand the report in to the DI, she went across to Jack's office but he was missing too. She resorted to leaving it on his desk and returned to custody wondering what was going on.

It was a lengthy, boring day. The only real interest came from a conversation she shared with Gina just before she left the nick, when her friend once again motioned her in and this time poured her a glass of whisky.

'Are we celebrating?' she questioned as she sat down.

'We are,' Gina answered. 'CID aren't.'

'Go on,' Sheelagh said, reaching for her glass.

'Let's start with the good news,' replied Gina. 'Kerry has cleared Smithy of any wrong-doing. And they're both staying at the nick.'

Sheelagh stared at her. 'How's that possible?'

'They've assured me they can work together,' Gina said with a shrug.

'And can they?' she pressed. 'An allegation of rape from a constable regarding her sergeant - that's a difficult situation.'

'The alternative is that I lose Smithy,' Gina answered. 'Kerry could disappear from the face of the earth tomorrow for all I care but good sergeants are rare.'

'So I hear,' Sheelagh murmured.

'Oh, shush,' said Gina. 'I'm including you in that. Anyway, I trust Smithy,' she went on. 'If he tells me he can handle it, I'm inclined to trust him.'

'What about Kerry?' she questioned seriously.

'Well, there's the rub,' Gina said. 'But I've persuaded Adam to give it a shot. Keep an eye on them for me, would you?'

'Sure,' she said then sipped her drink and wondered how transparent she'd be if she asked about the CID intrigue Gina had mentioned. Feeling the whisky burn her throat, she threw caution to the wind. 'What's this about CID?'

Gina's smile was perceptive. 'You know they've been dealing with an important operation?'

'Only because we've heard nothing about it,' she replied. 'I'm taking it there's a trust issue.'

'Possibly with good reason,' Gina said. 'The suspect was spooked and aborted. Red faces all round.'

'I bet,' Sheelagh murmured. 'I take it –'

'She was involved,' cut in Gina. 'I doubt she's very happy right now.'

Sheelagh attempted a smile and took another gulp of her whisky. She found herself wondering if DI Cavanaugh had been involved in the investigation. Though she hadn't seen him around today, she'd been confined to custody and he wasn't likely to be wandering around down there. If he was still aiding the investigation then he might still be working alongside Sam. Given how friendly they were yesterday, she didn't anticipate Sam would be exactly upset about that. Even so, Sheelagh instinctively didn't like it, although she'd struggle to explain why.

Excusing herself a few minutes later, she found began ruminating on the scant details she had about this operation as she got changed and headed home. She knew it was probably related to that stolen digger CID were investigating a few weeks ago, a piece of heavy-duty machinery that could be used for any number of criminal enterprises. The theory at the time had been that it was related to an extremely professional gang and the level of CID effort that had been expended on it in the last couple of days seemed to bear that idea out. It could be a big result and Sheelagh suspected Manson would be chasing it for all he was worth. She wasn't sure where Sam would fit into this though. Until a couple of weeks ago she'd got the impression that the job didn't mean as much to her as it used to. She'd even said outright that she didn't care about it and Sheelagh had been the one to say that she did. This was a bizarre reversal and, once more, she found herself lost in the complexities of the situation.


Another night with Connor's frostiness ensued then she was back at work. For the morning she was posted to the front desk and that gave her a front-row seat to the various comings and goings in the nick that day. The first thing she noted was Cavanaugh arriving, looking ridiculously pleased with himself considering that an operation had gone pear-shaped yesterday. That one look, coupled with a smarmy smile engineered to bowl her over, solidified her opinion of him and she buzzed him through into the nick with distaste brewing in her throat.

The second thing she noted was that there was plenty of activity generally. Unless she was completely mistaken, something big was afoot, though they were doing their best not to divulge it to the likes of her. While she naturally doubted there was any security issue related to her officers, she was intrigued by the prospect of a leak. Under normal circumstances, Sam would confide any such problems to her but they weren't in that place anymore.

Catching up with a little paperwork at the back of the front office, her attention was captured by Sam trotting down the front staircase and straight out of the front door. Sheelagh hesitated, knowing full-well that this was just the kind of scenario where, in the past, she would've gone straight after her. Then, a minute later, that sort of delicacy went out of the window. DI Cavanaugh came down the stairs, that same self-satisfied smirk on his face, and turned exactly in the same direction Sam had. The copper in Sheelagh would've wanted to go after them, never mind the friend with the injured pride, and she couldn't restrain herself. Leaving the desk with the nearest PC, she rushed out after them.

Cavanaugh was certainly walking with a purpose. He rounded a corner towards the overflow car park and Sheelagh struggled to keep up with him. When she finally made it to the corner she stopped short.

He'd fallen into step with Samantha and, even from behind, it was obvious how friendly the pair of them were. Sheelagh edged forward in order to keep them in sight. Abruptly, just as they reached Sam's car, the pair of them halted and Sam wrapped her arms around him, indulging in a passionate kiss that was obviously not their first.

Sheelagh lost all sense of where she was for a second – and forgot that she was effectively spying. That notion seemed irrelevant compared to what was going on in front of her, although she wasn't entirely sure why since the two were effectively entwined. Suddenly, she came back into herself and slipped out of sight. After resting her head against the wall to gather her thoughts, she dragged herself together and walked slowly back towards the station.

The PC she'd asked to cover her on the front desk made an impertinent remark about how lousy she looked and she, unfortunately, couldn't help but be a little brusque with him. Instead of returning to her paperwork at the back of the office, she hovered with her elbows on the desk, unwilling to accept that she was waiting to see Sam when she came back inside but knowing it was true nonetheless.

It was Cavanaugh who returned first twenty minutes later. If he'd looked pleased with himself earlier, that was nothing compared to how he looked now.

'Can you let me back in please?' he queried in what most other women would think was a charming manner. He must've misconstrued her distaste for hesitation and chuckled. 'You don't remember me, do you?'

'I suppose that doesn't happen very often,' she answered. 'But, no, I remember you. I could hardly forget.'

He blinked and, for the first time, she detected some unease in his relaxed persona. Perhaps he wasn't used to being unable to play on his good looks and charm. She took a perverse pleasure in making him squirm like this, in a way she would've condemned in any other situation. In the past she'd noticed some of her influence rubbing off on Samantha; this was obviously a case of the reverse happening.

'Have I offended you in some way?' he asked. 'I'm usually good with names but I'm afraid I can't –'

'We were barely introduced,' she cut in.

'Right...' he said slowly. 'Then can I –'

'For the purposes of security,' she interrupted, sliding a clipboard towards him, 'you're required to sign in and out each time you leave the station.'

'Oh,' he replied with an amiable grin, 'I wouldn't want to get anyone into trouble.'

'I'm sure you wouldn't,' she answered as she watched him fill in his details.

Dropping the pen back on the clipboard, he asked, 'Have you ever been to Australia?'

'No,' she said. 'Too many snakes and spiders for my liking.'

Once again, his smile faded and she enjoyed how uncomfortable he looked. This wasn't like her; she felt as if she was watching this conversation from the side-lines and inwardly cheering each time once of her verbal punches landed.

He cleared his throat and gestured to the door. 'Do I gain entry then?'

'Not quite,' Sheelagh returned. She tapped the clipboard again. 'You need to sign out from earlier or we'll have you in the building twice.'

'What a calamity,' he muttered. Shoulders hunched, he looked like Connor in one of his sulks. After scrawling in the box, he dumped the pen on the desk ungraciously. 'Are we done?'

She was about to reluctantly buzz him through when the front door opened again and Sam entered. Unless Sheelagh was completely mistaken, she nearly shuddered to a stop on seeing them then she drew her shoulders up and stepped forward with some of her old swagger.

'Is there a problem here?' she asked.

'Ah, DS Nixon,' Cavanaugh said, utterly ingratiating once more, 'I was following the rules, that's all. Going out for a breath of air could be a criminal offence around here.'

Sam's eyes flickered across the desk then she managed a smile. 'It's okay, Sheelagh, I'll take it from here.'

'Fine,' she replied shortly.

Spinning around, she returned to her paperwork at the rear of the office and didn't so much as look up as she heard the pair of them pass through the door and climb the staircase. It was one thing pretending that she was concentrating to fool Sam and Cavanaugh but she couldn't fool herself. The last half an hour had rattled her equilibrium and she wasn't even sure why.

The rest of the afternoon was an intolerable blur. She dealt with the enquiries brought to the desk and, for all intents and purposes, came across as a model police officer, but her heart wasn't in it. Every time there was some activity related to CID's current operation, her ears pricked up. Although Sam didn't appear again, Sheelagh was under no illusions that she was in the thick of the case. While a group of officers left via the front office around five o'clock, Sam wasn't among them. Sheelagh just assumed she'd gone out the back way and that was confirmed by Gina shortly after when she joined her behind the desk.

'Are you up for a little bit of overtime?' she queried. 'Only CID have poached some of our officers for this sting and I'm short on custody.'

'Sure,' Sheelagh muttered. 'Nothing to rush home for.'

Gina crossed her arms and looked her over critically. 'Are you all right?'

'I'm fine,' she said shortly. 'When do you want me on custody, Ma'am?'

'Twenty minutes,' answered Gina then she glanced around the office and lowered her voice. 'They've gone off to play James Bond on a boat,' she added. 'Samantha's in the thick of it, as usual.'

Sheelagh held her gaze. 'Why are you telling me this?'

'Listen to me,' Gina said, 'whatever's going on between you two –'

'There's nothing going on,' she objected.

Sighing, Gina rubbed her neck. 'It's not my place to interfere.'

'Then why are you bothering to talk to me, hmm?' Sheelagh challenged. 'There's really no need to be dropping hints to me about confidential CID operations, is there?'

Gina conceded that with a mild shrug then took her elbow and steered her into the far corner of the office. 'Look, I know how much you care about her, however pig-headed and ignorant she's being at the moment.'

'You do know what's wrong, don't you?' Sheelagh asked. 'Please, Gina, tell me what's going on in her head, I need to know.'

'I know you do,' Gina said quietly and her sincerity was unmistakeable. With a wry smile, she continued, 'When Niamh died I told her that she had to be strong for you.'

Whatever Sheelagh had been expecting her to say, that wasn't it. She blinked then admitted, 'She was, she was wonderful.'

'Then do us all a favour and remember that,' returned Gina, patting her arm. 'Custody in twenty minutes, okay?'

'Yes, Ma'am,' she murmured.

Left alone, she found she had even more food for thought. She dispatched the last of her paperwork absentmindedly then transferred down to custody when she was relieved on the front desk. It was fairly quiet down there, an atmosphere that she recognised as the calm before the storm. With any luck, the storm wouldn't hit until after she'd finished her overtime. While she wasn't too bothered about actually being here, she could do without any hassle in the meantime.

As it happened, things did pick up and she was glad she'd stayed. CID's operation paid off, with Phil jubilant as he brought several men in for armed robbery. Sam was conspicuous by her absence and Sheelagh was struck by how rare it was for her not to take credit for her own arrests. It was her pride in a job done, something Sheelagh understood and commended in her when she might condemn it in other officers. This was a big series of arrests and she booked in two of the lesser fish whilst puzzling over whether the fact that Sam hadn't accompanied them was directly related to the fact that she was on custody.

The third man Phil brought to be booked in was called Trevor Little and intuition told her that he was the ringleader of this gang. He replied arrogantly to her questions and she got the sense that if he wasn't still handcuffed he'd have his arms crossed.

Phil cleared his throat. 'Sergeant Murphy, additional charge – assaulting a police officer.'

She looked up sharply, abhorring the flicker of amusement she saw in Little's eyes. It took all her willpower to keep her voice level and to see him carted off to the cells without an extraneous word. If it had been any other officer apart from Phil Hunter she would've instantly asked what had happened on that boat but she couldn't question him and he didn't seem eager to volunteer any information. She'd have to try and catch Gina later, see if she knew anything.

However, she didn't have to wait that long. She was updating the custody log when she noticed a familiar figure out of the corner of her eye. It was Sam dressed in a waitress's uniform slipping furtively through the double doors and trying to make it into the FME's office without being seen. Sheelagh wasn't about to let that happen; she slipped around the desk and tried to intercept her, halting as she caught sight of the bruising on her jaw. Sam looked like a rabbit in headlights, as if she'd give anything to be safely inside the FME's office but seemingly unable to move. For her part, Sheelagh was battling a bubbling anger that she usually associated with her kids.

She stretched her hand to Sam's cheek and gently ran her thumb over the growing bruise. 'What happened?' she asked quietly.

Sam took a steadying breath. 'It's fine,' she said. 'It's no worse than it looks.'

'That wasn't the question,' Sheelagh replied with a soft smile. She brushed her index finger over Sam's split lip and swallowed down a fresh spurt of anger. 'I'll let you get it looked at.'

For a few moments Sam stayed completely still. Then she blinked and drew her head out of reach with a jerk. Sheelagh thought it was just her way of proving that she was okay but the expression on her face was unfamiliar, threatening even. She didn't like it and she suddenly craved the intimacy they had just a month ago. She missed Sam – her Sam – and she wanted her back.

'Will you tell me what's going on?' she questioned. 'I feel like I've missed something, done something. Tell me, let me fix it.'

Clearing her throat, Sam stepped away. 'Actually, I don't need to see the FME. It doesn't hurt.'

'Wait,' she tried but Sam was already halfway through the double doors. The last she saw, she was barrelling around the corner as though she'd been bitten.

With a sigh, Sheelagh returned to the desk and picked up her pen again. Then she slammed it back onto the desk. Five minutes ago, her anger had been directed at Trevor Little but now she was inexplicably furious at Sam. All she wanted was to help, look after her in the same way she'd been looked after in the last six months, and she didn't understand why Sam refused to let her in.

Twenty minutes later she was staring into space when Gina bashed her hand on the desk to get her attention. Flushing, she snatched up her pen once more but placed it down delicately as she caught sight of the look on her friend's face.

'I sat in on Cameron's debrief earlier,' Gina said without preamble. 'In case you were wondering, she was a bit of a hero out on that boat. Kept calm under pressure and put herself between Cameron and an armed thug. That's how she got the smack in the face.'

Though it shouldn't make a blind bit of difference, Sheelagh felt her anger uncoil a touch to be replaced with admiration. She knew that plenty of people in the nick still had Sam pegged as a selfish careerist and, despite her recent experiences to the contrary, Sheelagh knew that wasn't the case. It wasn't that Sam didn't care about her anymore, just that she was actively attempting not to.

'It looked pretty nasty,' she commented when she realised Gina was waiting for her to speak.

'Oh, you've spoken to her then,' said Gina.

'We've spoken,' Sheelagh confirmed, 'for all the good it did me. It's like I'm talking to a stranger, I don't know what to do.'

Patting her arm, Gina muttered, 'Give her time.'

'How much time?' Sheelagh called as she walked down the corridor.

'I wish I could tell you,' returned Gina with a wave of her hand.

As she watched her disappear, Sheelagh murmured to herself, 'That's not the only thing I wish you'd tell me.'


That night she cleaned the oven and slept badly. When she arrived at work the next morning she was assigned to custody and took the job without a murmur. She knew that the gang in the cells were to be interviewed this morning and she had more than her fair share of CID officers wandering around purposefully. Once more, Sam was conspicuous by her absence and Sheelagh didn't know how she felt about that.

Then, abruptly, Jack appeared and asked for a private word behind the desk. Perplexed, she followed him as far away as they could get and tried to assume an air of deference that masked her curiosity.

'What can I do for you, Sir?' she asked politely.

'I need you to work on a little project for me,' he explained. 'I'll square it with Inspector Gold but I need you in CSU all day.'

'CSU?' she repeated. 'Can I ask why?'

'Ramani'll explain,' he said with a tight smile. 'She's expecting you straight away. Thanks, Sheelagh, I really appreciate it.'

She expected him to leave but he didn't and it took her a moment to realise that when he said 'straight away' he meant it literally. Grabbing her jacket from the chair, she walked alongside him, feeling that something very strange was going on. This was how she'd behaved with Declan at his last parent's evening when he'd been eager to keep away from his Maths teacher. She'd had to keep an eye on him in case he scarpered and she felt as if Jack was acting like a rather bizarre parent at the moment.

He delivered her right into CSU and into Ramani's company with a significant look. Sheelagh knew she was being kept out of some loop or other and that sensation was enhanced by the fact that this task she'd been pulled from custody to deal with was little more than filing. Sensitive, important filing but filing nonetheless. As well as that, when she tried to leave the room to get a drink of water Ramani stopped her at the door and fetched it herself. Goodness knows what'd happen if she needed the loo.

Part of the puzzle slotted into place when Reg came upstairs to pass a case on to Ramani.

'I suppose you've heard about DS Nixon,' he said conversationally as she looked the file over.

It wasn't Sheelagh's imagination that Ramani glanced over to her before answering, 'Yes, I have.'

Although Ramani quickly steered the conversation back to the case at hand, Sheelagh's mind was working overtime. By the time Reg stepped towards the doors she'd decided to talk to him, whether Ramani tried to get in her way or not and she jumped up to intercept him.

'What's going on with DS Nixon?' she demanded in a tone that brokered no argument.

'She's been suspended,' he answered.

Speechless, Sheelagh had no choice but to let him slip away uncomfortably. When she turned back to face Ramani at her desk she saw the truth of Reg's words in her face and sat down in the chair beside her.

'So this is why I've been filing all morning,' she muttered.

Ramani sighed. 'I'm sorry. I was just following orders.'

'I don't understand,' Sheelagh said after a moment. 'If she's been suspended why did the DCI pull me from custody?'

'I don't know,' Ramani replied.

'Why has she been suspended?' she pressed.

'I don't know,' Ramani repeated.

'No, this doesn't make any sense,' Sheelagh continued, rising again. 'She can't have been suspended, she hasn't done anything wrong.'

'Sheelagh, I'm sorry, I don't know anything,' insisted Ramani. Then she quickly added, 'But you'd be doing me a huge favour if you stayed put. There's a reason the DCI wants you out of the way and I don't want to be the one who tells him that I've lost you.'

Reluctantly, she smiled. 'I feel like a car or a toddler.'

Ramani stood and squeezed her shoulder. 'I'll get you a coffee.'

To say the next couple of hours were tortuous was putting it mildly. Sheelagh kept running it over in her mind, wondering what on earth was going on. She was trying to reconcile the Samantha she knew with this woman who'd apparently been suspended from duty. It didn't make any sense. Gina had said that last night Sam had been nothing short of a hero. She'd certainly looked the part when Sheelagh had seen her but she'd also been troubled. Could that trouble have been something that would get her suspended? All this might've coincided with her little liaison with DI Cavanaugh but that wasn't to say it was related, was it? Could this be something that had been brewing for weeks, months, longer? Sheelagh didn't like being in the dark and, more to the point, she was worried about Sam. More than once, she pulled out her phone to call her but something held her back. It was all the unanswered questions coupled with the very real sensation that Sam had been systematically pushing her away before so why would she want to talk now?

There was one memory that kept her firmly in her seat – the recollection of Sam flinching away from her last night and the look on her face. She didn't know what to do with that and she couldn't get involved until she did.

Finally, her intermittent concentration was shattered completely by Gina arriving in CSU with a purpose. She made a beeline for her corner and pulled up a chair, looking harassed.

'You've been very restrained,' she said. 'In your shoes, I doubt I would've been.'

'What's going on?' Sheelagh asked. 'Are you really telling me she's been suspended?'

'No,' admitted Gina, 'but I didn't know that myself until ten minutes ago. Cavanaugh's bent,' she went on. 'He helped plan the diamond raid last night and he's been trying to get his pal out of the cells one way or another all morning.'

Sheelagh's brain was struggling to catch up. 'But he and Sam are...'

When she trailed off, fresh interest flickered in Gina's eyes and she asked, 'You knew about that?'

'I saw them together yesterday,' she explained. 'They didn't see me. What's happened? Why does everyone think she's been suspended?'

'From what I can gather, she went to Jack this morning and told him she had suspicions about the raid,' Gina replied. 'It didn't add up. There was a convenient RTC blocking the replica diamonds on their way to the boat and the gang knew there were undercover coppers on board. The only reason we managed to pick them up was because Phil Hunter disobeyed a direct order from the DCI to work on something else. Without him, Sam and Cameron could've been dumped in the Thames.'

'I'm not used to feeling grateful to Phil Hunter,' Sheelagh muttered then she refocused. 'So Sam and Jack faked the suspension so she could find out whether Cavanaugh was involved?'

Gina nodded. 'Cavanaugh wanted her to extract Little from custody. She didn't do it, of course. Instead she left a note for Jack saying that her mobile's live,' she continued. 'We've scrambled the helicopter to keep an eye on them but –'

'Hang on,' Sheelagh interrupted, 'do you think he's dangerous? Do you think he might hurt her?'

'I wouldn't have advised her to go back in there,' Gina said with a wince. 'But she's an experienced copper, she'll be careful.'

'That's not why she put herself in that position,' Sheelagh argued. 'This is about proving herself.'

Conceding that with a shrug, Gina answered, 'That as may be, there's nothing we can do about it now. Listen, I'd better get to CAD and keep an eye on the situation. Jack's out there after her with TSG, it's gonna be fine.'

Sheelagh watched her stand, still absorbing all this fresh information. Then she rose and grabbed Gina's arm. 'Ma'am, there's something I don't understand.'

Gina blinked. 'Go on.'

'If it was you who'd decided it was appropriate to make sure I didn't have any contact with this, I'd understand that,' she said. 'But it was the DCI's call, wasn't it?'

'Yes,' said Gina shortly.

'Why?' Sheelagh pressed.

'I suppose he knows you're friends with Sam and he didn't want you jeopardising the investigation,' Gina answered with a shrug.

'That's a bit insulting, Ma'am,' she pointed out.

'Is it?' returned Gina.

'Well, do you think I'm that unprofessional?' Sheelagh questioned.

Gina rolled her eyes and stepped towards the door again. 'Course I don't. This isn't about that.'

'Then what it is about?' she called after her.

Once again, her only response was the wave of a hand as the inspector disappeared through the double doors.

Knowing that Sam was playing chicken with a bent copper did nothing for Sheelagh's nerves as she sat trapped in CSU. Despite the way Sam had treated her recently, she still cared deeply about her and she wondered if this latest attempt at proving herself was part of the underlying problem. While Sheelagh couldn't deny that the kiss she'd witnessed between Sam and Cavanaugh had been genuine, that didn't mean that it wasn't part of a cry for help. She knew there was something else going on; just because it hadn't been spelled out it didn't mean she was ready to write Sam off entirely. In truth, she couldn't even if she tried. At some point in the last year she'd become willing to twist her opinions to accommodate Samantha Nixon in the same way that Sam had mellowed under her touch. They weren't going to get this far to let some ridiculous secret anxiety of Sam's come between them now. Once she was safely away from DI Cavanaugh, Sheelagh was going to make that plain – whether Sam liked it or not.

It was past the end of her shift and Ramani had disappeared off on her holiday but Sheelagh still sat there, unable to leave the nick until she knew for sure that Sam was all right. She didn't doubt that Gina would come back with an update so she made a valiant effort at completing the filing while she waited. Her mind was still revolving on the absurdity of Jack Meadows knowing enough about her friendship with Sam to pull her from custody when it would've been more professional to warn her in no uncertain terms not to blow the case. Would she have been able to adhere to that instruction? With a soft smile, she conceded that, no, she wouldn't have. Professionalism seemed to go out of the window where she and Sam were concerned – that was why Sam had unhesitatingly agreed to tell her any sensitive news about Des, that was why she'd practically been her guardian angel over the last year. If something had kicked off downstairs, Sheelagh knew she wouldn't have been able to maintain her professional mask, any more than Sam had been able to maintain hers when the questions about Mickey Webb's rapist had come to light.

'I thought you'd still be here.'

At Gina's voice, she flinched and scanned her face anxiously. She knew her well enough to see that it was good news, just from the ever-so-slight alleviation of the lines on her forehead, and a wave of relief crashed over her.

'She's okay,' Sheelagh murmured.

Nodding, Gina replied, 'According to Jack, shaken but physically okay. She's heading back here for a debrief but I'm not sure –'

'My shift's over,' interrupted Sheelagh, holding up a hand. 'I just wanted to know she was alright.'

'I'll tell her that,' said Gina.

Sheelagh stood up and stretched out. As they walked towards the doors together, she questioned, 'Do you think that'll make a difference?'

Gina rubbed her shoulder. 'I'd bet money on it.'

It was as though a dead weight had been lifted as she drove home. The anxiety that had settled over her since she'd heard about Sam's 'suspension' this morning had finally dissipated, though she'd privately admit there was a lingering shadow from whatever else Sam was keeping from her. Never mind – as long as they had an opportunity to talk about it they were better off than they might have been.

Connor was out with friends for dinner and when he got back he was as monosyllabic as usual. She'd hoped he might be thawing towards her but perhaps that was optimism on her part. She warmed through a casserole from the freezer and ate without relish then forced herself to go through the motions of watching mindless drivel on the telly with a glass of wine until it was appropriate to go to bed. However, once she was tucked up she couldn't sleep. She stared at the ceiling, watching the headlights from outside dance around and tracing the patterns into the duvet cover.

Suddenly, she was startled by her mobile ringing on the bedside table. She checked the time as she flicked the lamp on and reached for it, alarmed to find it was nearly eleven o'clock. Then she read Sam's name on the display and her heart skipped a beat.

'Are you okay?' she asked urgently when she answered it.

'You're awake,' Sam replied.

It took Sheelagh a moment to comprehend what was different about the voice and then she got it – this was her Sam, the one who'd wanted to talk about talking, the one who'd been strangely absent for the last few weeks. Every bone in her body warned her that she should be furious but, instead, she rested back against the headboard, smiled and closed her eyes.

'You don't know that,' she said. 'I might be sleep-talking.'

'If that was the case you probably wouldn't have turned the light on,' Sam retorted.

Sheelagh's eyes snapped open and she slipped out of bed, gliding to the window and tugging back the curtain. Sure enough, there was a familiar car and a figure perched on the bonnet wrapped up in a black coat and gazing up at the bedroom window.

'You know,' Sheelagh said, 'I've arrested people for less than this.'

'I haven't committed a crime,' Sam answered, pushing off from the car and crossing the road. 'I should know, I'm a police officer.'

'Stalking,' Sheelagh suggested.

'I happened to be in the area,' said Sam.

Turning, Sheelagh headed for the door but kept the phone to her ear. 'Antisocial behaviour.'

Sam's laughter echoed down the line. 'I'm not blaring 'Waterloo' at full-blast in a residential area.'

'Loitering,' she said as she padded down the stairs in her bare feet.

The keys were on the hall table and she grasped them with one hand whilst ending the call with the other. Through the glass she could plainly see Sam's shadow as she fiddled with the lock then she pulled the door open. There was Sam, green eyes soft and anxious, biting down on her lip with the bruise on her jaw glistening in the light from the hallway.

'Guilty,' she said, stowing the phone back into her pocket and gazing at her. 'Sheelagh, I'm so sorry.'

Surveying her, she stretched out a hand. 'I hoped you'd be a little more defensive and equivocal then I could stay mad at you.'

From the relieved smile that broke out on Sam's face, she recognised the reference as well as she did. After the news of Glenn had broken and Sam had apologised wholeheartedly, not trying to hide behind excuses but just saying sorry and meaning it. That was exactly the impression her current expression was giving and Sheelagh couldn't turn her away right now even if she'd wanted to.

Sam took her hand and stepped into the house. Then she tentatively drew her into a hug, Sheelagh feeling the tremble pass from Sam's body to her own. This was bizarre, considering how fractious things had been between them just yesterday, but Sheelagh was anxious not to lose the peace again. Pulling back, she gazed into Sam's eyes, reading nothing there but sincere affection and regret.

'Coffee?' she suggested.

'Thanks,' Sam said, closing the door with a dull click. 'Let me make it.'

Sheelagh shrugged as she led the way into the kitchen. 'That's practically admitting an offence.'

'Or we know that my coffee's better than yours,' Sam offered.

Chuckling, Sheelagh hovered by the door and watched Sam go through the motions of making coffee for the pair of them. It struck her that Sam hadn't been here since they'd moved all the furniture in yet she seemed completely at home. She didn't even have to ask what cupboard the coffee was in, just yanking open the right one and stealing it from the shelf. The possibility that she was dreaming occurred to Sheelagh but, then again, in that case Sam certainly wouldn't have a bruise from the boat raid blackening on her jaw.

When Sam brought the mugs to the table and sat down, Sheelagh didn't follow suit. Instead, she edged around to Sam's chair. The apprehension on her face was stark and Sheelagh softened her approach with a smile. Reaching out, she tilted Sam's chin up with an index finger.

'Let me see,' she said, studying the bruise critically then raising her eyes to Sam's. 'Have you even put any cream on this?'

'Yes,' Sam said indignantly. As Sheelagh arched an eyebrow, she grimaced and admitted, 'No. I washed it though. That hurt so I sort of left it alone after that.'

'Very big of you,' Sheelagh replied, stroking her cheek with the back of her hand before stepping away. 'Wait here. Get a biscuit, you look terrible.'

Climbing the stairs quietly so she didn't disturb Connor, Sheelagh slipped into the bathroom and dug out her antiseptic cream. As she returned to the kitchen she wondered if they were going to talk about anything that had happened in the last few weeks or whether it'd all be swept under the carpet. Or was the very fact that they both knew they were sweeping good enough? Sheelagh minded less about that prospect that she thought she should.

In the kitchen Sam was staring into her coffee. Somehow, in the short space of time Sheelagh had been upstairs, the atmosphere had shifted. Placing the cream down on the table, she sat down and waited for Sam to look at her.

Finally, she did and then she swallowed. 'I can't defend it, Sheelagh. I – I was completely unfair to you and I'm sorry.'

'It's okay,' Sheelagh said softly.

'No, it's not,' Sam answered firmly. 'I promised you I wouldn't push you away again and that's exactly what I did.'

Sheelagh conceded that with a wry smile. 'I accept your apology.'

'Just like that?' questioned Sam.

'On one condition,' she said. When Sam gazed at her apprehensively, she explained, 'You shut up and let me put cream on that bruise.'

Letting out a chuckle, Sam nodded. 'If that's your price...'

'Well, you look terrible, darling,' Sheelagh replied. 'I'm doing you a favour.'

'Charming,' murmured Sam with a grin. 'Can I finish my coffee first?'

Settling back in her chair, Sheelagh reached for her own mug and they drank in silence for a few minutes. It was funny how much more comfortable she suddenly felt in her own skin again, as though not having Sam's reassuring presence had changed far more than it should've. Sense told her that she should question what had happened with Cavanaugh, press her on what had been going on in her head recently, but it was almost like a can of worms she didn't want to open. Perhaps it'd be easier tomorrow when the dust had settled and she was confident that Sam wasn't about to flick that switch again.

'Do you want a laugh?' Sam asked abruptly when their mugs were empty.

Sheelagh tilted her head to the side. 'Go on.'

'You heard Gina's voice the other day, didn't you?' Sam queried. 'When she was talking about Debbie studying law with Jonathan Fox.'

'She was jealous,' Sheelagh confirmed.

Running her thumb around the rim of her mug, Sam smirked. 'Don't worry, it's all sorted now. Our Mr Fox is taking Gina on safari to Kenya.'

For a long moment Sheelagh stared at her then burst out laughing. It was obviously infectious as Sam joined in and they spent a couple of minutes in stitches until the giggles subsided and Sheelagh stood to rinse the cups out. Sam rested her chin on her arms and closed her eyes. Glancing over her shoulder a few times, Sheelagh saw her falling asleep in her chair and smiled. After drying her hands, she returned to the table and reached across to brush Sam's hair out of her face. Slowly, Sam opened her eyes as best she could.

'Is Abi expecting you back?' Sheelagh asked.

Sam shook her head. 'I sent her to Caroline's for the week, I thought it was best.'

That statement hung in the air, almost an opening for a conversation but one to be decidedly avoided right this minute. The recollection of Sam and Cavanaugh outside the nick yesterday sprang into her mind and she had to force it away, though she suspected Sam saw something in her face. She wondered what Gina had told her earlier this evening – knowing those two, probably everything. That thought made her uneasy, even if she couldn't pinpoint why. Perhaps it was just because she still felt so far out of the loop as far as Sam was concerned. It was complicated. She knew about Sam and Cavanaugh and Sam knew that she knew about them but they weren't talking about it. That left Sheelagh at a distinct disadvantage.

'Sheelagh?' Sam murmured.

Glancing up, she met her eye and suggested, 'Then why don't you sleep on my sofa? I don't think you're in any fit state to drive, you look exhausted.'

'Holding me hostage?' asked Sam hopefully.

'Sure,' she replied, 'how else am I supposed to get a decent cup of coffee in the morning? Now, come on, let me take a look at that bruise.'

Sam took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. 'Go ahead.'

Standing, Sheelagh stretched for the cream and squeezed a small amount onto her middle finger. Then she held Sam's head steady with her other hand while she gently massaged the cream into the blackened skin. If anyone had told her this morning that this was how her day was going to end she would've ridiculed them but it felt strangely normal.

'I think that's enough,' Sam said softly and Sheelagh realised the cream had blended in and all she was doing was putting pressure on the bruise.

'Sorry,' she muttered. Going to the sink, she washed her hands and when she looked back again Sam's face was clear of anything unusual. 'There's a blanket behind the sofa and your toothbrush is upstairs on the windowsill.'

Sam raised an eyebrow as she stood. 'How do you explain that one to the boys?'

With a chuckle, she said, 'They haven't asked and I haven't volunteered the information. If they want to start interrogating me, they'll have to start talking first. There's only Connor here tonight. If you see him on the landing step out of his way, he sleepwalks.'

'Duly noted,' Sam replied, stretching out and grimacing. 'Don't ever get locked in the boot of a car, plays havoc with your back.'

'I'll bear it in mind,' Sheelagh answered.

That little hint about what had happened out there with Cavanaugh was enough to set her blood boiling again but she reined it in. Sam obviously wasn't eager to share the whole story with her right now and, to be fair, Sheelagh might feel the same in her shoes. She wouldn't press; either Sam would dribble the information in at some point or she'd ask Gina for details the next time she caught her. Given that Gina had spent the last few days acting as a go-between for them, she was sure she'd oblige and fill her in. Whatever investment Gina Gold apparently had in their friendship, it was rather endearing – though Sheelagh would definitely never mention that word to her.

Stifling a yawn, Sheelagh added, 'I should go up.'

Sam nodded. 'Do you mind if I ransack your fridge before I go to sleep?'

'What do you think?' she retorted as she stepped towards the door. 'I'll see you in the morning.'

'Sheelagh?' Sam said, bringing her back. The expression on her face was hesitant, haunted even. 'Do you remember after Abi's overdose – what I said to you?'

Maybe someday.

There was no need to say it out loud; Sheelagh knew what she was driving at and was willing to accept it at face value. When Sam had later explained that remark she'd admitted she meant that the only thing up for debate was how open she could be. Hadn't that been the same conversation where Sam had categorically said she didn't want a man in her life? Where did Peter Cavanaugh fit into that?

Reaching out and squeezing her forearm, Sheelagh murmured, 'Night, Sam.'

'Goodnight,' Sam returned.

As she climbed the stairs Sheelagh heard the fridge opening and smiled to herself. Oh, she knew she should be angry and inquisitive but, really, she hadn't realised how much she'd missed Sam's friendship until it was abruptly given back to her. They'd deal with the rest of it tomorrow – or maybe the day after.


Something must've woken her, a floorboard creak or the door squeaking or something like that. She turned over and blinked at the display on her alarm clock. It wasn't set, with her having the day off, but it illuminated a steaming cup beside it. How many months had it been since someone had brought her a coffee to coax her out of sleep? In fact, Sam had been the last person to do it.

Sitting up, she reached for the cup and let it warm her hands. If she strained her ears she could hear Sam pottering around the kitchen and that made her smile. She took two sips of her coffee then slipped out of bed and found her dressing gown. Going downstairs a few minutes later with the coffee clutched in her hands she paused in the doorway to the kitchen. She could recall another morning like this in another house, with Sam holding a happy baby instead of yesterday's newspaper.

When she looked up Sam obviously recognised where her mind had wandered to. 'Hey,' she said softly, tossing the paper onto the table. 'Can I get you some breakfast?'

'There are some eggs left,' she answered.

Sam saluted and went about her task quietly. Sheelagh couldn't bear that and turned the radio on before she sat down. The tuned station was eighties based and Sam threw her an appreciative glance as she got on with the eggs. In the meantime, Sheelagh looked at the discarded newspaper which she'd neglected yesterday, looking at the page Sam had been focused on.

'How long have you been up?' she asked. 'You've done half the crossword.'

'I did most of that last night before I went to bed,' Sam replied.

'That didn't answer the question,' Sheelagh pointed out.

Sam grinned at her. 'Oh, shush. What time are you in today?'

'I'm not,' she said.

Throwing her another look, Sam said, 'If I'd known that I would've just gone quietly.'

'Well, I'm glad you didn't do that,' answered Sheelagh. 'How are these eggs getting here, via Cornwall?'

'Cheeky,' Sam murmured, though her ease was evident in her eyes.

She delivered two plates of scrambled eggs on toast to the table a few minutes later and they ate to the accompaniment of the radio, Sheelagh occasionally filling in a clue on the crossword. Only when she'd pushed her plate away empty did she realise that Sam was watching her wistfully.

'What?' she asked.

'Nothing,' Sam returned then grimaced and shrugged. 'Just...thank you.'

Sheelagh's lips twitched but she said nothing. It was too early in the day to embarrass Sam further and, besides, she didn't know where wandering down that path would lead them. Far better to stay on solid ground, winding each other up in that way that seemed to come naturally to them.

Footsteps on the stairs suddenly reminded Sheelagh that they weren't the only people in the house and she automatically stiffened. It was like coming out of a bubble to realise that reality was still waiting, even if it was only Connor and her son being here really shouldn't be a problem.

Still, when he appeared in the kitchen his trademark sullenness took another dive. He looked at Sam and his eyes narrowed.

'What's she doing here?' he questioned.

'Connor!' Sheelagh admonished.

'No, no, it's fine,' Sam said, getting to her feet. 'This is his home.'

'Hardly,' he muttered as he stomped over to the fridge and buried his head in it.

Sheelagh looked to Sam, trying to convey her apologies but she was already moving towards the door. Perplexed, Sheelagh rose and followed her into the living room where she gathered her stuff together quickly then brushed past her towards the front door.

Grabbing her arm, Sheelagh said, 'I'm sorry about Connor, I don't understand it. I certainly didn't bring him up to be so rude.'

'Don't worry about it,' replied Sam. 'I've got to drop by home and get changed before I go in anyway.'

'Okay,' Sheelagh answered but her stomach was twisting. She was wondering if Sam's abrupt exit was going to be anything like her last one. Then Sam took her hand and pressed firmly and her unease lessened. 'You'll call me?'

'Course,' Sam said with a smile. 'Gotta give you the next instalment in the Inspector Gold goes on safari saga.'

Sheelagh chuckled and opened the door for her. 'I wouldn't miss that for the world.'

Sam shot her one last sincere smile then strode off down the path and crossed the road to her car. When she was safely inside Sheelagh closed the front door and spun back towards the kitchen. By now Connor was eating cereal with a dark look on his face.

'What was all that about?' she demanded. 'That's the second time you've been rude to Samantha, there's no need for it.'

He ignored her.

'Connor,' she warned, 'I'm talking to you.'

Clattering his spoon into his bowl, he abandoned the table and stormed past her. 'Whatever.'

Once his bedroom door slammed she tried to fathom out what on earth was going on with him but came to the conclusion that it was probably more about the impending divorce and her having any kind of life beyond her previous one. She knew he wasn't coping with any of that and she knew she should talk to him but he never gave her the chance and she'd been far too wrapped up in herself lately. With Declan it was slightly easier – he needed her more than Connor did. She was just thankful that Siobhan was miles away and dealing with the whole situation in a way that at least didn't play out as a soap opera in front of her friends. Then, of course, she felt guilty for thinking that way. She was under no illusions that Siobhan wasn't as affected as this as the rest of them. Just because she was the oldest, it didn't mean she was dealing with this mess any better than her brothers.

Connor slipped out to work before she had a chance to stop him and she reluctantly got on with her day. She had a shop to do and then a good clean of the upstairs, though she periodically found herself wondering about Sam's situation and what had gone on in the last few weeks. She was still confused but much more content. It was bizarre and she really should stop to work it out. The truth was, however, she was still more comfortable in ignorance. Once she felt satisfied their friendship was back to how it had been before then she'd start probing.

It wasn't unusual for Connor to disappear until late with his mates these days and not bother to let her know. She was prepared for a quiet night alone so she was surprised when the doorbell rang about seven.

Finding Sam on the doorstep brought a smile to her face until she caught the look on Sam's. 'What's wrong?' she asked, urging her inside.

Sam moved through to the living room and sat on the sofa. 'I thought I'd better give you a heads-up,' she explained. 'Ken's son – Alex? He's been arrested for killing a prostitute last night.'

Sheelagh sank down beside her. 'What happened?'

'It's hazy,' Sam said with a shrug. 'Looks like his mates got him drunk and persuaded him to talk to her, he didn't know she was a tom and it went...badly. Ken and Rob were on an obbo last night when it all kicked off, I've spent the day trying to square that so the tosser running the operation didn't get his way and get Ken sacked on top of everything else.'

'Did you manage it?' Sheelagh queried, unable to keep the fondness from her voice.

'Luckily for everyone,' replied Sam, 'given the smarmy arsehole was ogling me all day. I've never been so delighted to hear Rob had punched someone. Though, naturally, I didn't hear that at all.'

'Naturally,' Sheelagh repeated. Taking her hand, she asked, 'How's Ken holding up?'

'Really well considering,' Sam answered. 'I know I knock Rob but he really came through for him. Fathers and sons, that's something he knows about.'

Sheelagh tilted her head to the side. 'What do you mean?'

'His dad was killed in the line of duty,' said Sam. 'It's why he wanted to be a copper, it's also why he's occasionally good at it.'

'I'll remember that the next time he hands me an illegible report,' Sheelagh said. 'Do you want a drink?'

Sam shook her head and stood. 'No, I should really get home. I just wanted to make sure you knew about Alex before you walked in there tomorrow.'

'You could've called,' pointed out Sheelagh.

Although Sam simply shrugged, Sheelagh read an entire explanation in that shrug. It was her way of checking they were still all right, that things were as back to normal as they were likely to get considering Sam was still keeping something from her. The anxiety expressed by visiting instead of calling was the final confirmation Sheelagh needed that Sam had missed their friendship as much as she had.

Following her back to the front door, Sheelagh asked, 'What's the latest on the African queen?'

Sam let out a sharp chuckle. 'She's petrified and she's going.'

'You're joking?' Sheelagh returned incredulously.

'I think she's afraid of spiders,' Sam said as she opened the door.

Sheelagh barely withheld her snort. 'I'm filing that one away for future use.'

'Don't you dare tell her I told you,' warned Sam. 'I'm trusting you, Sergeant Murphy.'

'Bad decision, DS Nixon,' she answered. 'Why's she putting herself through it?'

Leaning her shoulder against the door frame, Sam said, 'I suspect she likes Jonathan Fox a lot more than she's letting on. Makes you do crazy things, something like that,' she added. 'Good luck to her, that's all I can say.'

'Agreed,' Sheelagh said. 'You're never going to stop teasing her about it, are you?'

'Are you?' Sam returned, raising an eyebrow.

'Nope,' she confirmed.

Straightening up, Sam squeezed her arm. 'I'll see you soon.'

This time Sheelagh lingered until she'd seen Sam safely to the car and along the street. Unless she was completely mistaken, she heard the opening strains of 'Mamma Mia' blaring out of the window as the car disappeared around the corner. Content, Sheelagh closed the door and walked through to the kitchen to concoct something for dinner.


Although she was back at work the next day Sheelagh didn't see Sam properly for a couple of days. It wasn't like before, however. This time she knew Sam wasn't deliberately avoiding her; when they passed in the corridor she shot her the usual smile and, once, surreptitiously squeezed her hand in custody. Perhaps it was an odd kind of normal but it was their kind.

Thanks to the post-mortem report, Alex Drummond was exonerated of murder and released without charge. That pleased most people around the nick and Sheelagh located a new sense of appreciation for Rob Thatcher. That may only last until the next time he did something stupid but it was worth something for the time being.

With Gina taking a very sudden holiday things were also a little different in uniform. On the one hand, Sheelagh regretted being unable to interrogate her friend about what she knew of Sam's thoughts and actions over the last month but, on the other, she took a delicious pleasure in thinking of Gina Gold on safari. Teasing her about it when she got back was going to be pretty enjoyable.

There was a new problem in the station with Phil Hunter's daughter, Madison, kidnapped by the man who'd brought her up as her own – Dennis Weaver. Given that Weaver had been responsible for Nick Klein going into witness protection after he saw a murder, it was a worrying enough situation but, from the little Sheelagh knew, Phil was frantic.

Walking from her office to custody not long after the start of her shift, Sheelagh found Sam lingering outside the men's toilets.

'Are you lost?' she queried.

'I'm on guard duty,' Sam replied, crossing her arms. 'Jack asked me to keep an eye on Phil while we work a drugs case, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.'

'You're missing your lasso,' Sheelagh commented.

Sam cocked her head to the side then grinned. 'Don't tempt me.'

Gesturing to the door, Sheelagh questioned, 'Do you think he's crawled out through the air vent?'

'Think of the damage it'd do to his suit,' Sam replied.

Sheelagh chuckled. 'Good luck.'

Carrying on along the corridor, she heard grumblings behind her and turned around to see Sam taking Phil by the arm and leading him towards the back exit. For all the real dangers facing poor little Madison, Sheelagh didn't mind seeing Phil under Sam's thumb like that.

She was covering custody until mid-afternoon at least. She'd just done her routine checks when a familiar figure wandered down to the desk with her hands tucked into her pockets.

'Did you lose him?' Sheelagh questioned. 'Or did you push him down the stairs?'

Sam rested her elbows on the desk. 'Oh, he got a call from Weaver. Jack's trying to cool him off.'

'What did Weaver want?' she asked.

'No idea,' Sam answered. 'I can't see that the guy would hurt Madison though. He's spent years bringing up that little girl as his own. She trusts him, she loves him. He'd have to be completely heartless to order any harm to come to her. It's Phil he wants – and the way he's going, he'll play right into his hands.'

Sheelagh gazed at her seriously. 'You be careful out there.'

Waving that away, Sam replied, 'Don't worry about me.'

'A week ago you were locked in the boot of a car,' Sheelagh reminded her. 'Is it any wonder I don't trust you to keep out of trouble?'

'Valid point,' Sam conceded with a shrug. 'But don't worry, I'm not putting myself in any danger thanks to Phil Hunter.'

'Can I have that in writing?' Sheelagh retorted.

'I'll get my lawyers onto it,' returned Sam, patting her hand before drifting back off along the corridor.

Custody went through one of its periodic rushes late morning which succeeded in distracting her from whatever was going on with Phil Hunter. Then, when the inevitable lull arrived, she heard from Honey Harman that Madison had been found safe and well. Apparently Dennis Weaver had just left her to be collected, perhaps having a change of heart about scaring the little girl he'd brought up as his own. Yet another instance when one of Sam's hunches had been right. Sheelagh wondered how Sam had got on with her babysitting of Phil all day and resolved to ask her in her break as she transferred between custody and the front desk.

Instead of having to traipse all the way upstairs, though, she found Sam heading down the corridor towards her after she handed custody over.

'I had to get away,' Sam explained. 'Phil playing the doting dad to the kid he never wanted is nauseating. Don't get me wrong,' she added quickly, 'I'm glad she's safe, course I am, but you'd think Phil was Superman the way he's going on.'

'Any sign of Weaver?' Sheelagh questioned.

Sam shook her head. 'Let's hope he's just decided to cut his losses.'

'Fingers crossed,' Sheelagh said then she hesitated.

'What?' Sam asked.

This was it; the test she hadn't wanted to put their friendship through. However, the words had almost slipped out by themselves and, really, perhaps it was better to pose the question and be rejected now than carry on assuming that everything was fine between them. So she bit the bullet and dove right in.

'Do you fancy a drink tonight?' Before Sam could respond she continued, 'I understand if you're –'

'Yes,' Sam cut in with a soft smile. 'I'll raise you dinner.'

Her relief was enormous. 'Deal,' she said. 'I finish at six.'

'Great,' replied Sam, 'I'll meet you outside when you're done. In the meantime, I'm gonna try and salvage my drugs case now Phil isn't wringing his hands in the corner.'

'You're all heart, DS Nixon,' Sheelagh returned, watching her along the corridor and earning a cheeky grin for her trouble.

An afternoon on the front desk was a different prospect to a morning on custody but just as frustrating in some ways. The public wanting resolutions to their cases weren't dramatically different to those arrested in said cases around the back of the building. Patiently, she waded through life histories to get to the heart of a few problems and ended up learning far more than she wanted to about the perils of worms on allotments thanks to her affability. Finally, she managed to get a few minutes to herself to work on her paperwork and that's what she was doing when Debbie McAllister entered the office, a frown on her face.

'You haven't seen Samantha, have you?' she asked.

Sheelagh put her pen down. 'Not for a while, no. Maybe an hour ago.'

'Did she mention where she was going?' Debbie asked.

'Just that she wanted to salvage the drugs case,' Sheelagh answered. 'Why, is something wrong?'

Rubbing her neck, Debbie said, 'The bail-to-return you called up ten minutes ago? That's Sam's case and I can't find her.'

'That's not like her,' Sheelagh said.

'I know,' muttered Debbie.

Pushing her chair back, Sheelagh stood up and crossed her arms. 'What about Phil? Is he around?'

'No, but I...' She trailed off and met her eye. 'Weaver. I need to find the DI.' Taking off out of the office, she called over her shoulder, 'Thanks, Sheelagh.'

Probably it was just a mix-up. That's what Sheelagh told herself as she tried to focus on her paperwork again. Sure, it was unusual for Sam to forget anything as important as a bail-to-return but she'd had a hairy week. First with all the Cavanaugh stuff then having to babysit Phil today – it wasn't exactly a normal working routine. Yet Sam's dedication to her job was obvious and she was one of the most organised people up in CID. No, if she knew she was going to be late she would've called in.

Not long after the DI appeared in the front office with Debbie and a group of PCs. Sheelagh approached the desk apprehensively as Manson gestured for the others to wait for him outside.

'Sir?' she said politely, though her stomach was somersaulting.

'You've spoken to DS McAllister,' he said. His voice was its usual variety of curt but she detected something else running underneath, which only served to alarm her more. 'And you haven't heard from Sam at all?'

'No,' she confirmed, 'not since she left the station.'

He nodded. 'Could you call her? She might answer you where she wouldn't Debbie or me.'

'Sure,' she murmured.

Digging into her pocket, she withdrew her mobile and went through the motions of dialling, feeling Manson's eyes on her the entire time. She was sincerely hoping that his hypothesis was correct and that Sam would answer the phone to her, explain she was in a meeting or something and couldn't talk. Yet she didn't.

Sheelagh pulled the phone from her ear. 'It went straight through to voicemail.'

'Worth a shot,' Manson said. Stepping towards the doors, he returned briefly. 'Listen, Sheelagh, I'll find her, okay? You have my word.'

Perplexed, she watched him leave and wondered whether he'd received a knock to the head in the recent past. It certainly wasn't like the DI Neil Manson she was familiar with – or the one that Sam was so disparaging about – and that alone made her more nervous. Why would a man who showed no concern for his officers – the female ones, at least – suddenly firmly reassure her that he was going to bring Sam safely back to the nick? It didn't make sense nor, Sheelagh knew, was it necessary for him to show faux concern. There was no one around to see it and he certainly didn't care what she thought of him.

Of course, all that meant that he sensed some real danger to Sam. It was Sheelagh's instinct to skirt around that danger in her mind and concentrate more on Manson's behaviour in the minutes of respite she had between dealing with members of the public. So when Debbie McAllister steamed into the front office she'd almost forgotten the danger Sam was potentially in – almost. The look on Debbie's face and the fact she was in full protective uniform brought her back to reality with a thwack.

'What is it?' she questioned urgently.

'We found rifle shells at Weaver's hotel room,' she explained. 'One of Phil's informants has set him up. We've got a location and SO19 are on high alert. The DI wanted me to tell you what was going on.'

'Thank you,' she said. 'Find her, Debbie.'

'We will,' Debbie said firmly.

This time Sheelagh didn't have the luxury of focusing on something else. Her mind was unavoidably fixed on Samantha now. If before the danger had been hypothetical then now it was all too real.

Dennis Weaver was an animal. Sheelagh was in no doubt about that. While his actions in the past were business-based, his grudge against Phil Hunter was justified. That made him even more dangerous. Way back before Christmas Sheelagh remembered the moment in the Sergeants' Office when Sam had learned about Phil fathering Christine Weaver's child. They'd joked that at least Sam didn't have to do Dennis Weaver's dirty work for him by making Phil's life a misery but neither of them had dreamed that Sam could – quite literally – get caught in the crossfire.

Nick Klein had gone into witness protection because of Weaver's threat against him. That hadn't been an idle one, nor had his last attempt on Phil's life been half-hearted. Wherever Sam was, she was in severe danger. If she wasn't, she would've answered her phone. There was no doubt in Sheelagh's mind about that.

Most people in the nick were ignorant of what was going on out there. It occurred to Sheelagh how bizarre it was that Manson had insisted she be kept in the loop about this. While it certainly hadn't been cruelty on his part, sitting here behind the front desk knowing what was going on but not being involved in the rescue operation was driving her mad. She was almost grateful when she was forced to interact with the public – at least it distracted her.

Finally, her mobile beeped with a text message from Debbie. Sheelagh's heart was in her mouth as she opened it then she exhaled: Sam ok. Phil injured. Both on way to hospital. Weaver dead.

It was lacking in detail but Sheelagh really didn't care. Her eyes were fixed on the first two words, letting them seep into her brain before she closed the message and rested her forearms on the desk. Whatever had happened out there, Sam was fine. That was all that mattered. As soon as her shift finished she'd get down to the hospital – if Sam hadn't made it back to the nick already.

The press were gathering out front, clamouring for a statement on the rumour that Dennis Weaver had been shot dead. However these things got leaked, it was certain that a statement would need to be made soon to dissipate the crowd. That looked like it was coming via Superintendent Okaro. Sheelagh spotted him out of the corner of her eye and approached the desk as a matter of course. Instead of going out of the doors, however, he veered towards her.

'Ah, Sheelagh,' he said, 'I wonder if you could do me a favour.'

'Of course, Sir,' she replied.

'I think a friendly face at the hospital may be an idea. Samantha's physically well but she's shaken up,' he explained. 'DCI Meadows suggested you were the one to ask. I'll arrange cover for the rest of your shift.'

'I'd appreciate that,' she said, unable to keep the relief from her face. 'Can I go straight away?'

'I'd prefer it if you did,' the Super answered. 'From what I hear, they're having difficulty persuading her to accept treatment.'

'Yes, Sir,' she muttered with a shake of her head. 'Thank you, Sir.'

She was out of the nick in record time, pausing only to grab her belongings and not to change. When she arrived at A&E she was greeted by a couple of familiar nurses who obviously knew that two of her colleagues had been brought in.

'I'm looking for Samantha Nixon,' she said before they could ask.

They exchanged a look then one pointed to the furthest cubicle. 'Bottom, right-hand side.'

If Sheelagh hadn't heard from both Debbie and the Super that Sam was physically uninjured, that look might've prompted her to panic but, under the circumstances, she took it as a reminder that Sam's stubbornness could come into play at any time. If her role in this was to persuade her to accept treatment then Sheelagh would gladly perform it.

Brushing aside the curtain, she was struck by how quiet the cubicle seemed in comparison to the rest of the bustling department. Sam was sat on a chair – not the bed – with her back to the curtain. One quick glance at her posture, however, told Sheelagh all she needed to know: this was DS Nixon's brave face and she had to hope that the recent renewal of their friendship meant she could burst through her defences.

Sam's head raised an inch, guardedly so it seemed. Then, back still turned, she murmured, 'Hey.'

How it was that Sam knew she was the one hovering was beyond her but the tone of voice was undoubtedly the one Sam reserved pretty much exclusively for her and Abi. Sheelagh stepped around the chair, perching on the bed and giving herself a height advantage over a woman who looked far too small for her liking. Her clothes were grubby and her jacket was buttoned up, probably to hide the fact that she didn't have a shirt on underneath.

Hands clenched on her lap, Sam said nothing. Sheelagh tentatively reached across and covered them with her own and, eventually, the mask crumbled completely. Sam swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut, probably to stem the tears Sheelagh had seen brewing there.

'I'm all right,' she insisted.

'I know that,' Sheelagh replied. 'But there's no one else here. You're fine, darling, you don't have to put on an act for me.'

Sam let out a soft snort then opened her eyes. 'They want me to stay for observation.'

'I heard you were being difficult,' answered Sheelagh, earning herself the ghost of a smile. 'What's the problem?'

'I wanna go home,' Sam admitted. 'I haven't got concussion. I'm just a bit wobbly, that's all.'

'You don't know that,' Sheelagh pointed out.

'I do,' argued Sam. 'I know my own body. They won't let me go home alone. Abi's meant to be staying at a friend's and I've got no way of getting hold of her from here since Weaver...shot at my phone.'

A shiver passed through Sheelagh's body at that blunt analysis of what had happened out there today. Sam felt the involuntary motion and looked up, scanning her face in that usual way of hers. She always felt like an open book around Samantha Nixon and, usually, she didn't mind it.

'Okay,' Sheelagh said after a few moments, 'I'm sure they'll let you leave with your own personal trained nurse on standby.'

Sam blinked and bit her lip. 'Are you sure?'

'Since we were meant to be going out for dinner, I think the least you can let me do is pick up a takeaway pizza on the way,' she retorted. 'Is that a yes?'

Turning over her hands, Sam squeezed hers somewhat bashfully. 'Thank you.'

Sheelagh smiled and reluctantly extracted her hands. 'I'll talk to the nurse.'

It was easier than she'd assumed it would be to get them to agree. She suspected that Sam had been threatening to leave against medical advice since she arrived, and it was only the need to get herself calm enough to actually accomplish it that had stopped her disappearing. Jack's idea of sending Sheelagh down here had been both timely and inspired though, once more, she was confused by how seriously he took their friendship. It wasn't usually in a DCI's remit to keep an eye on the close friends of his detective sergeants but, then, Sun Hill wasn't exactly a traditional station.

It was only twenty minutes after she went in search of the nurse that she watched Sam sign the necessary forms and stand up – albeit with difficulty. While there almost certainly wasn't a physical problem, Sam was definitely shaken up but Sheelagh let her prove she could walk on her own, keeping pace at her elbow and ignoring the urge she had to physically keep her upright.

When they finally made it to the car Sam slumped gratefully into the passenger seat. Sheelagh had already called ahead and ordered pepperoni pizza from a takeaway near Sam's and they said it'd be ready by the time they got there. After taking one last look at Sam's stiff figure gazing out of the window, Sheelagh started the engine and drove in silence. They didn't speak for the entire journey, not even when she slipped out of the car to collect the pizza or when she returned.

At the house, Sam fumbled with the keys but Sheelagh let her persevere until she opened the door on her own. Everything was quiet inside and she followed Sam through to the kitchen where she promptly turned the CD player on. Instantly, they were surrounded by the opening strains of 'Gimme Gimme Gimme' and it looked like it did Sam no end of good. Still not talking, they sat down and ate the pizza slowly, Sheelagh unable to avoid shooting anxious looks at Sam. If this situation was reversed then she knew Sam would be doing the same, although perhaps she'd be a little more discreet about it.

Once they'd had a couple of slices of pizza each, Sheelagh rose to put the kettle on. When she turned back to the table, Sam was watching her with a strange look on her face.

'Why don't you go through to the living room?' Sheelagh suggested. 'I'll bring these in.'

Without a word, Sam complied. Left alone, Sheelagh turned off the CD player and finished making the tea. When she joined Sam in the living room she looked a little more herself, taking the mug with a wispy smile.

'What do you know?' she asked, her voice huskier than usual.

'That Phil was injured and Weaver's dead,' Sheelagh said with a shrug. 'Thinking about that wasn't my priority, I'm afraid. Look, you don't have to tell me anything if you'd rather forget it for tonight.'

Sam shook her head. 'I've gotta make a statement tomorrow, I need to be clear on what happened.'

Clinical, sensible – typical DS Nixon. Even if it wasn't usually accompanied by the kind of rueful smile that would have Sheelagh wrapping anyone else up in cotton wool. Sam would probably accept that sort of treatment right now but Sheelagh respected her need to maintain a brave face. She was right that she'd have to go through it tomorrow anyway and, given that Weaver was dead, it was going to be a complex conversation. So she just nodded and settled back on the familiar sofa, waiting for Sam to begin in her own time.

'Phil got a message from a snout,' Sam said after sipping her tea. 'I didn't need to go along with him, I didn't have to babysit him anymore now Madison was safe. But I wanted to be in on it,' she added with a grimace. 'This guy we're after is a real nasty piece of work. We'd raided him earlier and got nowhere and, to be honest, I didn't trust Phil's information. I wanted to be there.'

'Understandable impulse,' Sheelagh commented.

Chuckling, Sam continued, 'That's why I refused to stay in the car when we got there.' She paused and her expression darkened. 'A car came by but it didn't stop. A second later there was a gunshot and Phil was down. He'd been hit in the leg. Weaver couldn't have played it any better. I mean, the guy was an experienced shot – he could've finished Phil off there and then but that wasn't what he wanted.

'We were stranded in the middle of a disused industrial estate,' she continued. 'I somehow dragged Phil round a corner but I dropped my phone. When I tried to get it Weaver nearly shot my hand off. Seeing him in the flesh storming towards us brandishing a rifle isn't something I'm likely to forget.'

Sheelagh couldn't help rubbing her arm, as much to reassure herself that the ordeal was over as Sam. For her trouble she received a brief grateful glance before Sam returned to her tale.

'There was a door I managed to get open,' she said. 'It was an abandoned tube tunnel, a real rabbit warren. The Super told me afterwards there was only one exit but we didn't know that at the time. All we could do was get in there and blockade the door. Phil was bleeding from the wound to his leg and I wasn't exactly nice to him about it. No one knew we were there and we couldn't get a signal from Phil's phone. We were stuck in a tunnel with a psychopath after us so all we could do was run and hide – slowly.'

When she fell silent to sip her tea, Sheelagh continued her circular massaging of her arm.

'We made it into a small room,' Sam went on finally. 'I barred the door and had a look at Phil's leg. I knew it wasn't good. Trying to wait it out wasn't an option, not when the only clue we thought the DI had to go on was a note about the meeting without a location or name. As far as record-keeping goes, Phil's as bad as Rob.'

Sheelagh smiled and lifted her hand to sweep some hair from Sam's face. 'Go on.'

Licking her lips, Sam said, 'I told him a few home truths. Nothing that wasn't spot on but not the kind of thing you tell a man when he's bleeding to death. After that I went for a look around on my own. I was petrified, Sheelagh,' she admitted and she took her hand again, pressing hard. 'All I could think was that I needed to get out of there for Abi and...' Trailing off, she cleared her throat. 'Weaver nearly caught me. He was literally inches away, I could smell him. I had to go back to Phil, I couldn't wander around out there any longer, my nerves couldn't take it.'

'Shush, it's okay,' Sheelagh murmured.

Sam nodded slowly. 'Well, at that point I had to change the dressing on Phil's wound and the only thing I had to hand was my shirt. He thought all his Christmases had come at once.'

Sheelagh couldn't help but chuckle then said, 'Sorry.'

'Let's face it,' Sam replied, 'it's the closest he's ever gonna get.'

'I should hope so,' returned Sheelagh.

The ease on Sam's face gradually faded. 'Well, then it started to get really hairy. He was cold, he was losing consciousness. I ended up cradling him while he talked about his mum and dad. All I could do was keep him talking, keep him awake. Then I nearly... But I didn't,' she continued as though she'd finished the sentence. 'So I left him again to try and find a way out. Weaver must've been waiting for me to make a move because he found Phil. By the time I got back there he was about to finish him off. I hit him and Phil got the gun and... After that it's a bit hazy.'

Sheelagh had been listening intently and, up until the last minute, she'd been impressed by Sam's coherence. However, she was now wondering whether there was something in the nurses' concussion fears and looking at Sam critically. From the look on her face, that prospect startled her and Sheelagh softened her gaze.

'I'm sorry,' she said, 'I'm just worried about you.'

'I feel fine,' Sam answered. 'The doctor said things would be a little hazy, concussion or not. It's the shock.'

'Yes,' conceded Sheelagh, entwining their fingers. 'The last few minutes are bound to be hazy. But there's something you're not telling me from before that, isn't there?'

For a moment she wondered if she'd spooked Sam beyond repair. The expression in her eyes was dangerously reminiscent of that moment in custody that had triggered their perverse estrangement and Sheelagh was half-bracing herself to be unceremoniously evicted. Perhaps that fear was visible in her own face because Sam seemed to force herself to relax.

She abruptly stood and crossed the room, keeping her back turned. 'I need something stronger than tea.'

'You can't drink,' Sheelagh reminded her, also standing and tentatively approaching.

'I know, I know, but for this...' Sam spun around. Her forehead was creased, as though she was struggling with something and trying to urge the words into the air. 'I've been really unfair to you, Sheelagh,' she went on finally. 'You deserve a lot better than this.'

'That's all done with,' insisted Sheelagh. 'We've got past it.'

'We haven't,' Sam muttered, scrubbing at her forehead. 'When I was stuck down there I knew that I needed to...explain...why I –'

'Not now,' Sheelagh interrupted. 'You've had a lousy day, you're not thinking clearly.'

Sam crossed her arms, that old spark in her eye. 'Believe me, I am.'

Sheelagh felt the shift in the air, even if she couldn't explain it. She watched Sam for a long minute, expecting her to conclude that thought but she didn't. Instead, she seemed to lose her nerve again. Sheelagh had seen that look before and, tonight, it was hardly surprising. She was willing to let Sam's secrets slide again, if only because she knew that they both needed to calm down after the day they'd had.

'Why don't you have a shower?' she suggested. 'It might make you feel better.'

'Okay,' Sam said following a few seconds of deliberation. Sheelagh couldn't tell whether she was relieved or dismayed by the idea of postponing this conversation yet again but she certainly stepped towards the door with finality. 'I'll see you in a little while. Make yourself at home.'

'You might find me asleep,' Sheelagh warned, earning another twinkling Samantha Nixon smile before she vanished.

It was nice being back in this house. She didn't realise she'd missed it until she stepped back over the threshold; it was like settling into a warm bed. Going into the kitchen, she washed-up then realised she'd better call Connor and let him know she wouldn't be back. He didn't answer his phone but that wasn't altogether surprising. She left him a message saying she had something on at work then sent Patrick a text to the same effect. Given Connor's attitude towards Sam for whatever reason, it was easier to tell a white lie. This was work-related, after all.

Returning to the living room, she curled up on the sofa and read what she hoped was one of Abi's magazines. She heard the shower click off and Sam cross to her bedroom, listening to the sounds with a smile before refocusing. By the time she heard footsteps on the stairs she was almost falling asleep, the stress of the day overwhelming her.

Sam appeared in the doorway in a bathrobe with her hair wrapped in a white towel. She looked infinitely better and Sheelagh moved up on the sofa to let her sit down. After a moment of hesitation, she did, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

'Feel better?' Sheelagh queried softly.

She opened her eyes and tilted her head sideways. There was that old sincerity in her expression that Sheelagh had become used to but it seemed more concentrated now, more potent.

'I feel...' Sam trailed off and gazed at her. 'I missed you, you know. I thought I could go back to how I was before but that's not possible.'

'Why did you want to?' asked Sheelagh.

Sam swallowed. 'I'm no good at this, Sheelagh. Normal human relationships. Abi reckons I'm not capable.'

'Abi's wrong,' she said firmly.

'I hope so,' Sam replied then she bit her lip.

It was obvious she wanted to say something else but the words didn't seem to be appearing again. So, instead, they just spent a minute in silence staring at each other until the front door clattered and startled them both.

Sam jumped up faster than she should've and Sheelagh saw the damage that had done to her potential concussion. She rose and put a hand on Sam's shoulder only for her to flinch away as Abi came into the room. To say Sheelagh was confused was an understatement, something only enhanced by the expression on Abi's face when she saw them.

'What's going on?' she questioned.

'It's nothing, sweetheart,' Sam insisted in a strangled voice. 'I had a bit of trouble at work and Sheelagh was making sure I didn't pass out cold.'

Abi's hostility softened as she looked to Sheelagh. 'Is she okay?'

'We think so,' she answered. 'The doctors wanted someone to stay with her overnight just as a precaution.'

'Overnight?' Abi repeated, glancing back to her mother. 'Really?'

Sheelagh couldn't decipher the tone but Sam obviously could. She shifted her feet and said, 'Well, now Abi's back, you're off the hook. I appreciate all your help though.'

'I know,' Sheelagh said. 'I'm just glad you're okay.'

She supposed she should feel wounded that she was being unceremoniously evicted but there was something going on between mother and daughter that she didn't quite understand. If Sam didn't want her here it was nothing to do with them and far more to do with Abi – she was sure of that. It had been a long day and the most important thing was that Sam had survived a near-death experience with a maniac. Their friendship was still intact, Sheelagh had no doubt about that, and the rest could be fixed in the morning.

Collecting her belongings from the kitchen, she returned to a stalemate between Sam and Abi that looked unpleasant for both of them.

Sheelagh cleared her throat. 'I'll see you tomorrow, Sam, okay?'

'Okay,' Sam said. 'Thanks again.'

'Anytime,' replied Sheelagh, stepping towards the door.

If she'd been told twenty minutes ago that she'd be grateful to be out of Samantha Nixon's home then she would've been baffled. They'd been getting along so well until Abi's arrival. Then again, since when did things run smoothly when it came to Sam and her daughter? In truth, Sheelagh was relieved to be out of there and returned to her own home exhausted yet content.


The talk of the nick the next morning was Weaver's death and Phil's gunshot wound. He was recovering nicely, according to the gossips, and it didn't surprise Sheelagh to hear that DS Nixon was back in work like nothing had happened. Sam would be pleased to realise quite how normal the gossips considered that to be, although Sheelagh herself was eager to see her and ascertain that the concussion panic had been just an unnecessary worry.

She got that opportunity mid-morning when Sam arrived in custody just as she was booking in a troublesome suspect. Sheelagh picked up speed and got the fella locked away before joining Sam on the bench reserved for prisoners and studying her critically. While Sam looked physically much healthier than she had last night, there was obviously something still playing on her mind but Sheelagh was astute enough to let it trickle out in its own time. If custody was overrun in the meantime she'd just have to deal with it.

'The DPS are crawling all over the investigation,' Sam said abruptly. 'I don't know what to say. Phil shot Weaver dead,' she went on. 'I remember shouting 'no'. That sounds like I thought Phil shouldn't do it, doesn't it?'

'It's not what I think that matters,' Sheelagh reminded her.

Sam let out a soft growl. 'I wish I remembered nothing.'

'Look,' said Sheelagh after a brief silence, 'this isn't about your past feelings towards Phil, you know that. You were in a very stressful situation down there and you have to follow your instincts.'

'I'm not sure I trust them,' Sam admitted.

'Well, I do,' Sheelagh told her. 'What's your gut telling you?'

She hesitated. 'To talk to Phil and make my decision then.'

'There you go,' said Sheelagh, earning a wry shake of the head. 'What?'

Looking up, Sam questioned, 'Why do you always make things feel so simple?'

'It's a gift,' she answered with a shrug. 'You'd better get out of here before the DPS come looking.'

Sam patted her hand then made a quick exit, throwing one of her usual smiles over her shoulder as she went. Sheelagh returned to her tasks feeling a little better for seeing Sam with her own eyes.

It wasn't until the end of a seemingly never-ending shift that Sheelagh saw Sam again. She was just settling back into the Sergeants' Office to finish up a little paperwork before she went home, particularly her notes for the tricky court case she was giving evidence at in the morning. Sam knocked on the open door then unceremoniously plonked herself in the seat opposite.

'Good day?' Sheelagh queried.

Chuckling, Sam replied, 'I told the DPS that I shouted 'no' at Weaver, that Phil was just defending himself.'

Sheelagh leaned back in her seat. 'That's quite a statement.'

'Well, Weaver would've killed me down there as well as Phil,' Sam said. 'He probably saved my life and I definitely saved his. I think we're starting afresh and maybe that's optimistic of me but I don't wanna see Phil suffer for something that actually wasn't his fault. And, no,' she added, 'I don't understand that impulse either.'

'Stop trying to,' Sheelagh answered. 'Just follow your heart.'

'Wise words,' Sam muttered then gestured to the paperwork. 'Is this for your Rastafarian court case in the morning?'

Sheelagh gaped at her. 'How have you heard about that?'

'Gina told me after it happened,' Sam said with a shrug. 'She said it might turn nasty so I've been keeping an ear open for it.'

'Of course you have,' Sheelagh murmured. Then she said, 'I'm sure it'll be fine.'

Sam surveyed her for a moment. 'Don't worry. You were right, you followed procedure. Focus on that.'

'I will,' she answered, believing it all of a sudden. 'How are things upstairs?'

Grimacing, Sam said, 'I've managed to convince the DCI that we've got a serial rapist on the loose. Manson was less open but I really don't care. It's a danger we need to deal with instead of hiding behind budgets. I really don't miss that part of the job, I have to say. We're getting my old lecturer in for a consult so we'll go from there.'

'Your old lecturer?' Sheelagh queried with a smile.

'Don't get any ideas about picking his brains,' Sam warned good-naturedly. 'I'm not the same person I was back then.'

'I can believe that,' she replied then checked her watch. 'Do you fancy a drink tonight? I'm off in an hour.'

Sam shook her head as she stood. 'Afraid I can't tonight. I'm meeting Eva for a catch-up.'

'Oh, that's nice,' Sheelagh said. 'Send her my love.'

'I will,' Sam promised. 'I'll see you tomorrow.'

Sheelagh watched her go then buried herself back into the notes of her altercation with her Rastafarian complainant. The more she thought about it – no matter what Sam had said – the more she worried. Because, while she knew she'd done the right thing, activists had the bit between their teeth on this one and that meant it could go in any direction. She did appreciate Sam's faith in her though. That was a marked improvement on a week ago.