This chapter sort of breezes past a lot, running straight through The Hide and into Foyle's return from America. Once again, canon will be altered, this time with the time Foyle was away. In the show reference was made to Foyle having hounded Paige for six months. If you include travel time and time for Foyle to locate Paige and start to get at him, the least amount of time he was away was seven months and canon hints at longer. That won't work for my story and hopefully the why will be revealed before too long ;-)

Many thanks for all the lovely reviews. I do love this fandom :-) You all are fantabulous!

Oh, and you will recognize dialogue at the end as being taken straight from the show. All credit is due to Horowitz and the writers, as well as the wonderful MK himself as I'm sure he had input.

Weeks passed and the time for Foyle's replacement was nearing. There'd been another murder, this time involving the Americans, and some robberies. As it turned out, all the events centered around Adam's guests which meant Foyle spent more time around Sam than he'd intended. He had stopped by with some fish one day, offering it to them for a meal. He couldn't explain why exactly, except that he needed to see her, needed to know she was alright. The looks they'd exchanged that evening after she insisted he join them for the fish dinner had been delightful, fraught with emotion, and nearly had him dragging her off to his house. But he didn't, leaving her to her new life instead. Then the investigations brought him around to the house a few times and by the time it was concluded, all of his self control was required to keep from touching her. He knew that if he touched her, his resolve would be lost. Now that their feelings were more open, every glance held special meaning, every conversation became a kick in his chest, and every night was torture for him.

Also as he finished his time with the Hastings Constabulary, he checked for any reports of attacks similar to Sam's in his jurisdiction and surrounding ones. But there was nothing. Not that he wished such horror on another young woman, but he did want to find justice for Sam. And in moments of renewed rage, he recognized that he wanted to be the one to mete it out.

At last the day of his retirement came and he nearly skipped out of the Police Station with excitement. Finally he was free from the bureaucracy that had made his work such a challenge for so long and he could go to America in pursuit of some long awaited justice. Hands in his pockets, he sauntered through the halls and out the door, closing the book on that part of his life and ready to take on something new.

His happiness was short lived, however, as he spied a news headline on a corner, just after meeting his brother-in-law, Charles Howard. Charles had arranged for his trip across the Atlantic in just a short while. But the headlines made Foyle pause. Devereaux... haven't heard that name in years. Christopher bought a paper and skimmed it quickly, memories from nearly thirty years past washing through him. Oh Caroline, he sighed as he read the article. This was her son, possibly his and as he studied the picture of the young man staring back at him from the page he understood that is was probable; he looked too much like Christopher's father to deny a connection. She had sent him away from her all those years ago to return to her husband for the child's sake. But she had died eight years later and now it was his duty to help her son... my son.

He met with the boy's solicitor. He met with the boy. And he met with the father, Caroline's husband. His task lay before him and it promised to be a difficult one. In the midst of his inner turmoil over past anguish, Sam called him; Adam had been taken to the station. And because Sam asked, he went to look after Adam. His mind was full of James Devereaux as he delivered Adam back to the guest house but even so, Sam's gratitude for his help almost diverted him. As wrapped up as he was in his own investigation, Adam's and therefore Sam's investigation into the land up on the green made him pause. But his attention was needed elsewhere, so this time he did not run to Sam's aid. Besides, he reasoned, this might be an opportunity for Adam to make a good impression on Sam, might give her a chance to see him in a different light.

Caroline's dear son had been sentenced to hang and Christopher was scrambling for answers, when Milner's murder investigation and the girl's landlady brought everything into the light. Now armed with most of the story, Foyle returned to the prison to confront James and get the truth out of him. In the process, Foyle revealed more than he'd set out to. But seeing the expression in the young man's eyes, relief almost, at the revelation that Foyle could possibly be his father gave him some solace. And on the final meeting, when Christopher was able to tell the young man that he would soon be free and that there would be justice for his mother, the detective was left with a feeling of satisfaction. James, or Jack as he preferred, would never be his son in the sense that Andrew was his son. But there was a connection. And more importantly, he had fulfilled his duty to the boy and to Caroline. Now he was truly free to go to America, except...

Sam agreed to drive him to the docks and return his car to Steep Lane, where it would await Foyle's return from America. Foyle thought Adam might accompany her, but he discovered on the drive to the port that she hadn't asked Adam. "I... I wanted this bit of time alone with you before you go," she admitted as she kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Christopher's eyes widened. He'd made a point of seeing as little of Sam as possible since she'd left his house all those nights ago. He'd hoped that as she healed, she would begin to look elsewhere for her future. "Sam..." he said softly, not exactly certain what he wanted to say beyond that.

"Oh, I know. We aren't to speak of... of things until your return. But I just... I've seen so little of you and you seemed distracted and well, I just needed this time. But don't worry, I won't make a scene at the dock or anything. I just... " Her sigh was heavy and emotion filled.

"Sam..." this time his voice was full of emotion, sadness, disappointment, and trepidation. "I hope you will use this time as a chance to ... erm... consider your future?"

She sighed again, not a good sign in Foyle's mind. But she said no more about it. Instead, she asked rather sheepishly, "Will... would you write me? Tell me what it's like there? And how you are getting on?"

Yup, think I can manage that," he said more cheerfully than he was feeling. "Send it to the guest house?"

"No," she answered abruptly. Then coloring a bit as she realized how it sounded, she took a deep breath. "Adam asked and I said no. I'll leave at the end of the week."

Foyle's brow furrowed. "You... you don't want to marry him?"

"Never said I did; in fact, I recall telling you that I did not." She glanced at him briefly before turning her eyes back to the road.

"So, ummm... where do I write to you?"

"Oh, right. Well, I hope I don't have to return to Lyminister. Perhaps send in care of Uncle Aubrey. He'll know where I am and he won't be as inquisitive as my parents."

"Sam, I'm not likely to write anything that your parents would not approve of."

"Yes, I know. But I've worked so hard to gain my independence from them, you see. And I don't want to have to explain anything to them."

The inside of Foyle's cheek took a beating as his tongue thrashed against it before he began to gnaw a bit. Her insistence that he not write her in care of her parents was baffling, but he supposed it made sense to her. Shifting in his seat to gauge her reactions more closely, his eyes furrowed as he tried to decipher Sam Stewart. "Nnot likely they'd think anything much of it; just your old boss telling you a bit about America. And Sam, you have to know that if I were to agree to anything between us when I get back, I'd need to have a word with your father anyway."

The small smile that quirked at the corner of her lips both worried and amused him. She really hadn't let go the notion of the two of them. Turning his gaze back out to the passing scenery, he gnawed again at his inner cheek. Hopefully, by the time he got back her mind would be elsewhere.

The voyage to America was a tedious one. His few months there weres displeasing, even with the few excursions to the attractions nearby. The days were busy with finding a way to find some amount of justice for Richard Hunter and his family. His nights were filled with thoughts and dreams of Sam. And in the end, entire trip was unsettling and unsatisfactory. He'd managed to expose Howard Paige for the murderer and scoundrel he was and secure a promise from the board of directors at Paige's company that young Hunter would get the help he needed for mechanical training. Leaving it at that, he boarded the first ship he could book passage on. He'd written to Sam a few times, mostly telling her about the sights and amusing anecdotes about the locals he encountered along the way. He'd heard nothing back from her, which was to be expected since he hadn't stayed in one place. Still, his trip back to England was filled with thoughts of her and the looming question whether he should find her or leave things as they were.

Fate took him in hand however, when he was accosted by some of Hilda Pierce's people as he disembarked and pulled into her investigation. Hilda Pierce informed him that "Circumstances have arisen in which we feel we have a need of your help."

"Circumstances being... the end of the war?" He shot back.

"If only it had ended. We have a new war, a new enemy," Pierce told him. Foyle looked at her questioningly. Her assistant, Mr. Valentine added, " The Soviets".

"George Orwell calls it the Cold War, and I think that might prove apposite," Pierce concluded.

And of course, Sam was in the middle of it all.