Warning: Aftermath of stalking behaviour; brief accusations of rape/kidnapping.
Ellie
They watch as Hardy's car turns the corner. Once it's out of sight, Daisy turns and gives Ellie a forlornly defiant glare, a stubborn set to her chin.
Ellie smiles and says, "Don't worry, Daisy. I have a plan."
Hardy
Hardy's wearily walking towards his building when the reporters appear, gabbling excited questions and shoving microphones and cameras in his face. He's startled and as cameras flash, he knows the worst possible versions of his shocked expression will be plastered all over the tabloids right beside his naked arse along with the appropriately cruel puns.
One voice he recognizes carries over the cacophony, shouting, "Any comment about the video?"
"Oh, for God's sake," he groans, "I thought I was done with you."
The crowd parts slightly and he gets a clear look at her: Karen White.
"Why did you send that video to the media? Are you trying to make a statement or just looking for notoriety?" she asks, cool challenge in her voice.
"I thought you grew a conscience," Hardy snarls. "And didn't you get the official denial memo we sent out?"
"Are you avoiding my questions?"
Hardy's face hardens as he clenches his jaw. "I cannot comment on an active police investigation," he says in his best media voice and once again begins to push his way through the crowd.
"Investigation?" Karen pounces. "Are you being investigated?"
He turns at the door of his building and glares, his mouth twisted into a contemptuous sneer. "I am not the story here," he growls. "Why don't you lot concentrate on those ten women, murdered by the same man? One of those women still hasn't been identified! She-they-are the ones who deserve your attention, not some licentious video taken without my knowledge and released without my consent." A camera flashes and he turns blazing eyes on the photographer. "And for God's sake, I've had fucking enough of bloody cameras!"
He yanks the door open and strides inside, long legs rapidly putting distance between him and the horde of vultures on his doorstep. He sees the flick of uniform gray entering the boiler room down the hall, and wonders what the maintenance crew and the landlord are making of all this.
He wonders if the rent will go up.
He calls Daisy as he bounds up the stairs, too angry for the lift. She sounds more cheerful than he had expected and he's glad, even if he pouts at just how cheerful she seems as he ends the call. She'll be all right, and besides, it's only temporary. Once they stop whoever's doing this, she'll be able to return here, or go back to Sandbrook and pick up the threads of her life.
He reaches his flat, unlocks the door and walks in, flicking on the lights and striding to the centre of the living room. There, he stops and stands completely still, staring around him. The hair on the back of his neck stands up and he's suddenly positive the stalker is there, right now, hiding somewhere within the flat. The room swirls, ants once more crawling across his skin. His breathing speeds up, his heart pounds, and he feels more light-headed than he's felt since he got that little piece of life-saving metal in his chest. He sways and blinks rapidly, then explodes into motion, attacking and searching every room and each place that a person could possibly hide, and quite a few where they couldn't.
He returns to the living room and double-checks the locks on the door, then grabs a chair and wedges it under the handle. It might not stop someone determined to get inside, but at least he'll hear it.
He turns and looks once more around the living room.
Not that he'll be sleeping.
He stretches out on the sofa, dozing in fits and starts, hearing every tiny noise and wondering when it became so goddamn noisy.
In the morning he stands on the threshold of the bathroom for a good five minutes before he finally pushes himself to use the loo and shower as usual. He makes his way through the reporters outside his building, drives to the station and wades through another batch of the bastards before he finally reaches the hoped-for sanctuary of his squad room.
He strides in as if nothing has happened, and barks at Sal, "Bring me up to speed. Quickly."
She jumps to her feet with wide eyes and a nervous expression and scurries after him into his office. As she tells him what's happened in the last two days (not nearly enough progress on the South Coast Killer case; too many other crimes to keep up with), he watches her with narrowed eyes, trying to identify any signs that would tell him if she's the guilty one.
She finishes and as she hurries out of his office, he sees Webster get up and go to her, leaning in to murmur in her ear. He raises an eyebrow, and wonders if it's him, still resentful after all this time that he's not the lead DS on the task force. Hardy watches as Sal gives Webster a startled look, then a slow, shy smile and a nod.
Perhaps they're in it together.
He scowls, then stands and closes the blinds on his office windows. He needs to work, not worry about who might be stalking him or think about the empty flat waiting for him at the end of the day.
The reporters are gone by the time he walks out of the station that evening and makes his way home. He's relieved to see they're also gone from around his building. He hopes it's a sign that the incident is already fading from the public consciousness.
He walks in to the flat and scans the room, searching for any indication that someone has been inside. The silence echoes against his skin as he looks up at the corners, at the angles where the walls meet the ceiling and each other, at the small cracks and nicks in the plaster.
The knock on the door startles him and he spins, eyes wide, heart pounding. There's another knock, followed by, "Open the door, Hardy. We saw you come in to the building."
He's limp with relieved anger as he flings the door wide and glares at Miller, Tom and Daisy, although he spares wee Fred, holding on to Tom's hand and giving him a grin as wide and sunny as his mother's used to be.
"Go home, Miller!" he growls. "What did I tell you?"
Miller's wide, toothy, patently insincere grin doesn't waver. "I have no idea what you told me since I stopped listening to you after a while." It seems impossible, but her grin grows larger. "We're here to help you secure your flat and have come prepared with wallpaper and paste and everything! Besides, you can't expect Daisy to stay in Broadchurch with nothing but the clothes she's standing up in."
He runs an agitated hand through his hair, looks at a grinning Miller, a defiantly glowering Daisy, a still (or always) wary Tom, and a happily gurgling Fred, and knows when to concede the battle, even if not the war.
He steps aside with a sour expression.
"Don't worry, Hardy," Miller says cheerfully as she brushes past him, "you'll barely notice we're here."
"Right," he mutters sarcastically even as he wraps an arm around Daisy and presses a kiss against her temple.
Ellie
Ellie carefully surveys the room until Hardy closes the door behind them and joins her.
"I'm assuming you tore this place apart last night?" she says.
"Na," he says, "I figured I'd wait until you disobeyed my instructions and showed up with my child in tow."
She rolls her eyes. "Don't be such a sore loser," she mutters and heads to the loo.
She peers in the door and sees the holes left by SOCO when they exposed the locations of the cameras. He joins her and they stand in silence, shoulders brushing as they examine the small room.
"When are you going to fix the holes?" she asks with forced cheerfulness.
"Plasterer is coming after the weekend."
"Who's going to let them in?"
"That's what maintenance people are for. I understand their one lass is a whiz at everything...except plastering. The building super sang her praises for half an hour before telling me they couldn't help."
Ellie bites back a laugh at his disgruntled face, then says, "Well, give me all their names and we'll put them on the list of suspects."
He pulls a piece of paper out his shirt pocket and hands it to her. She takes it, a little startled, then shakes her head.
"I should have known you'd think of it first."
"I've been a detective longer than I've been a target, Miller," he says and gives her a sly smile.
She's struck by the dimple in his cheek and the way his eyes crinkle, and the thought flits through her mind that he's actually almost handsome, in a too tall, too skinny, too-much-of-a-wanker kind of way.
His expression turns puzzled and she realizes she's staring.
"Right," she says briskly, "where do you want us to start?"
He sighs and rubs his forehead. "Well, since we're all here, we may as well start with the bedrooms and this one. It's where we need the most privacy, isn't it?"
By the time the kids go to bed, they've covered over every crack and pinhole in the loo and the two bedrooms. Ellie doesn't know if they've actually accomplished anything other than the appearance of controlling the situation but Daisy looks happier and even Hardy looks like he's going to be able to sleep.
Or maybe his relaxed mood is due to the wine they've been drinking. There's something rather charming about a squiffy Hardy and if anyone had told her two years ago that she'd find anything charming about Alec Hardy, she would have called them a rude name before laughing hysterically.
For an hour.
Hardy waits until Tom and Fred have settled in his room and Daisy has closed her bedroom door behind her before he gives Ellie a significant look and tilts his head towards the kitchen in what she chooses to think is an invitation rather than an order. She pulls a face at his slender back as she follows him, feeling like she's been called to the headmaster's office.
He leans against the sink, wine glass casually in hand, and she's struck by his long, clean lines as she settles at the table. He watches her with wide, clear brown eyes and a carefully expressionless face.
"What's this about, Miller?" he says, remarkably controlled, any sign of a little too much wine gone as if they've never been. She lets out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"I have a plan," she says firmly.
"Yah? Care to enlighten me?"
"I spoke with Elaine, and she spoke with your CS, and it's all arranged."
He watches her, silent and still, and she wonders what he's really feeling or thinking behind that bland face and those wide, unblinking eyes. The silence unnerves her and she rushes into speech.
"I'll be working here in Stonebridge every other week, starting Monday, until we've figured out this whole stalker thing."
"I took Daisy to Broadchurch because I wanted you to keep her safe."
"Because of these arrangements, she's promised not to come back to Stonebridge until you give the okay. Trust me, Hardy, if I hadn't come up with something, I wouldn't have been able to keep that child away from you even if I blockaded the only road into Broadchurch and scuttled every boat on the beach!"
He grimaces. "I have no idea where she gets that from," he mutters.
"My God, you better be joking!"
He shrugs then smirks. She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head.
He takes a sip of his wine and says, "So what exactly does this great plan of yours entail, besides you coming up here every other week?"
"That's pretty much it. You'll be coming to Broadchurch, what, every weekend?"
"Aye."
"Well, I'll spend a week in Broadchurch, and a week here in Stonebridge, knowing we'll have to play things by ear if anything breaks in either location. While I'm here, Beth, Lucy and Ollie will be looking out for the kids, and we've already worked out a schedule for my team down at the station to take turns staking out the house every day and every night."
He raises an eyebrow. "Really?"
"We-ell, maybe not the last bit. I just threw it in, in case it made you feel better."
"What will make me feel better is finding out who's doing this and stopping them."
"Well, that's exactly what I'm going to be helping with. That, and the South Coast Killer case, of course."
He watches her thoughtfully, long and lean and there's a set to his mouth and an expression in his eyes that makes her nervous and she realizes she's watching him with something approaching cautious fascination. It reminds her of the way she'd felt when she watched him carrying Fred in her living room. It's almost like she's never really seen him before.
"Miller?"
She starts and realizes he's been talking and she hasn't heard a word he's said.
"Sorry," she mutters and takes a quick sip of her own wine. "What were you complaining about?"
He rolls his eyes. "I said I didn't want you putting yourself into harm's way, either. They haven't really struck at the station yet, except for the postcard, but who knows what they're planning next."
She raises an eyebrow. "Well, I'm glad you're thinking about the station, but I think we need to increase the security here in the flat, too, since this is where I'm staying."
He gives a small start and stares.
"Didn't I mention that part of the plan?" she asks blithely. "It's only every other week, but at least you'll have somebody looking out for you half the time."
He sighs. "I suppose it's no use asking you to reconsider this 'plan'?"
"Absolutely none."
"And if I just say no?"
"Well, then I guess I'm sleeping in your hallway every other week. At least let me use the loo once in a while. So long as there are no cameras, of course."
He grimaces as he ducks his head and scratches an eyebrow. "You know they'll either just wait until you're not around, or they'll target you, too."
"Not if we figure it out before they can do that."
"I don't need you to protect me."
"Well, you need somebody, Hardy. For God's sake, you have all the self-preservation instincts of a lemming heading over the cliff."
He scowls. "I think that's just a myth."
"Stop being a smartarse, and just say, 'why, thank you, Miller, I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help'."
"Won't that be too nice for you?"
"Fine, then just say I can sleep in Daisy's room rather than out in the hallway."
He groans and gulps down his wine.
Hardy
Ollie arrives on Sunday to take the kids back to Broadchurch, and the only way Hardy gets him out of the flat is to promise an exclusive interview to the Broadchurch Echo.
"But only if Maggie's there," Hardy says firmly.
Ollie grudgingly agrees and they drive off, leaving him alone with Miller, watching the car disappear. Miller's still waving even after the car's out of sight.
"You should have gone with them," he says gruffly. "It's Easter break. Come back once Tom's back in school."
She smacks him on the shoulder. "Shut up. Let's get to work."
"Work?"
"You said we'd focus on Tess and Joe first. Let's see if we can find your stalker."
They go to the station the next morning and Hardy sets Miller up at a desk close to wee Sal and Webster. Sal's all smiles but Webster is scowling until Hardy sees Sal speaking to him in the break room after which he returns and grudgingly gives Miller a smile.
Hardy gets a message from Murray that morning regarding the data from the video. It confirms what he suspected: the time stamps on the images used in the video were all before mid-February, with the most recent date and time the night he picked Daisy up at the train station. Which, Murray points out with his customary asperity, doesn't necessarily mean there isn't a margin of error, since the clock and calendar on the camera could have been adjusted.
Hardy shares the information with Miller as they drive to Sandbrook, and says, "I can't really see how it's Tess."
"Don't trust," Miller says automatically.
"Nothing to do with trust. She has no motive and no opportunity."
"What? No lingering resentment from the divorce?"
"She was the one who cheated on me, remember?"
"Right." She frowns. "Was there any fallout from people learning she was the reason the first trial against Lee Ashworth fell apart?"
"Nobody knows. Not publicly, I mean. So far, anyway. They still haven't entered their pleas, you know."
"I do know. What's taking so bloody long?"
"The Crown is still trying to work out deals."
"Hmm," Miller said thoughtfully, and he knew she was thinking about Joe and his last minute change of heart. "Was Tess resentful that we got all the credit?"
"You should have gotten all the credit," he growls.
She blinks rapidly, then says, "How many times to I have to tell you to stop being nice to me?"
"I'm stating a fact. You're the one who saw the missing piece of evidence. If there was any glory to be had, it belonged to you."
"Oh? And not you for refusing to give up?"
"Tess always says I'm too obsessive to give up."
"Well, I can't argue with her there." Miller pauses, then says, "We may have different reasons, but we both know solving Sandbrook had nothing to do with fame and glory."
"True," he says softly and feels the water closing over his head and rushing into his lungs, feels the weight of Pippa hanging in his arms. He swallows past the lump in his throat and says, "Tess has never told me if she resents it or not."
"What about Dave? Does he resent the praise that's been dumped on you?"
"Probably, although he was more than happy to stand by while I was being drenched in shit."
"Why didn't he come forward and take the blame for Tess?"
"He's married. Didn't want to lose his family over it."
"So he let you lose yours?"
"It was a long time ago, Miller."
"Not that long ago!"
"A lifetime," he says softly, his face sad, his eyes distant.
She bites her lip and looks away and they finish the rest of the drive to Sandbrook in silence.
Tess is surprised to see them but takes them into her office readily enough. She closes the door, tsks and says, "Can't you ever stay out of trouble, Alec? I never expected you to become an exhibitionist after all this time."
He rolls his eyes. "You know perfectly well I didn't make that video."
She sits down and gives him a smug smile. "No? I might have reconsidered your offer of reconciliation if you had, as a sign that you've become more exciting in your old age. Apparently not." She glances at Miller. "Sorry, Ellie, I don't usually speak about our sex life-such as it was-in front of others, but I suspect this isn't a social call, is it?"
Miller shakes her head and says, "No. How many times have you been in Stonebridge since December, Tess?"
She scoffs. "You can't seriously believe I would plant cameras in my ex-husband's loo, edit the film and then release it to the media?" She turns her gaze to Hardy. "Really, Alec, what possible motive could I have to take video of your naked, skinny arse? It's not like I haven't seen it all before."
"The video wasn't made to titillate, it was made to humiliate, and it was taken in the very flat your daughter is living in. That doesn't worry you?"
"Of course it worries me, but it shouldn't make me a suspect!"
Hardy gives her an incredulous look. "You know how this works, Tess."
She sighs and leans back in her chair. "Fine. I had never been to Stonebridge prior to the task force meeting in January, and I haven't been back since."
"We'll be confirming that," Miller says. "I hope you understand."
Tess gives her an unfathomable, calculating look. "I do understand, but what motive could I possibly have?"
"Really?" Hardy says. "How many times have we been called to a scene where the motive was as trivial as playing the telly too loud?"
"True."
They share a look, one filled with memories crafted through twenty years of crime and passion and love and hate, and the part of him that will always love her yearns to reach out and recapture what had been good about their relationship. The rest of him is grateful it's impossible, that it had been too late from the moment Tess pulled into that parking garage with Dave instead of delivering the pendant to the station.
"We'd like to examine your computers," he says.
Tess flushes. "I understand," she says, "but can I ask you and your SOCO to be discreet?" Her eyes narrow. "Or are you going through Murray?"
"I trust him," he says simply.
"I know, but he'll never let me hear the end of it once he sees what's on my computers."
"Join the club."
Tess heaves a put-upon sigh. "Fine." She digs out her keys and says, "Bring the keys back when you're done, yah?"
Miller grabs them and says briskly, "Thank you. Now, where's Dave?"
"What possible motive could I have?" Dave sneers, leaning back in the chair behind his desk.
"Jealousy," Miller says with a shrug.
Dave laughs. "He lost the girl," he says with a mocking glance at Hardy, who's watching him with wide eyes in an impassive face, "how could I possibly be jealous?"
"Not personally-professionally," Miller snaps. "You may be a DI now but you're holding on to the job by the skin of your teeth-or so we've heard. And here's Hardy, who took the fall on the Ashworth case to protect his wife and daughter and was forced out in disgrace for his pains. Not only did he go on to solve the Danny Latimer murder, he also broke the Sandbrook case, and now he's heading up a multi-territorial task force investigating one of the most prolific serial killer cases we've seen in this part of the country. What is it, Dave? You can't accept what small measure of fame and professional acceptance he's regained?"
"Or is it even more basic than that?" Hardy growls and shifts forward in his chair. "Are you just trying to save your career and family and your own arse? Discredit me now before we have to go to court and testify to the facts of the case?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Dave snaps.
"You lied, Dave. Claire only took the pendant, but when we examined the car, the radio and other valuables were also gone. That was your doing, wasn't it? To cover up how specific the theft had been. To throw us all off from thinking it was related to the case. Why'd you do it? Did Claire put you up to it?"
Dave sneers. "You believe Claire when she told you she only took the pendant? She's a liar, Hardy. Don't you know that by now?" He leans forward, eyes mocking. "Or was she telling the truth about you? Did you rape her? Hold her against her will? Then manipulated her into a false confession once Ashworth came back? How far were you willing to go to close that case?"
Hardy's mouth twists into a contemptuous line. "If you had been willing to go even half as far instead of stopping to shag my wife, I wouldn't have had to do anything, now, would I? We would have been able to break Ashworth with that pendant and none of what's happened since would have happened. Answer the question: why did you deliberately mislead the investigation?"
Dave glares. "Go to hell."
Hardy and Miller walk to the car in silence, and it's not until they're back on the road that Miller says, "Can you prove any of what you said to him in there?"
"Sadly, no, otherwise I would have him up on charges."
"Think Claire could be lying?"
He snorts. "When isn't she?"
"True." Miller thinks in silence then says, "Do you think he's the one?"
"He's certainly manipulative enough, but he has nothing to gain, so far as I can tell."
"Maybe humiliating you is gain enough."
His mouth twists into a bitter grimace. "You'd think everything that was heaped on me after the pendant was stolen would be enough for anybody."
"Except you managed to get through it and salvaged your career and your reputation. You're even back in the media's spotlight."
"He can have the spotlight," Hardy growls. "I just want answers for the families and a hope for justice."
"Unlike what happened with Joe, right?"
He glances at her. "Aye. He's next."
"I'll call Paul, see if he knows what happened after Joe got to Sheffield."
"Is that where you sent him?"
She nods. "Paul made the arrangements at a half-way house there."
"Well, Sheffield certainly sounds like a fate worse than death."
Miller grins suddenly. "I know. He's always hated the place." Her smile fades. "What's next?"
Hardy shrugs. "We'll look at Sal and Webster while we're tracking down Joe. We still have a job to do, and I won't let whoever this person is stop us. I'll also see about getting in to see Lee and Claire and Ricky."
"Getting us in to see them."
He slides a glance her way. "Oh, aye," he drawls, "I know better than to do it on my own."
She gives him a decisive nod and says, "And don't you forget it."