Tess asks him to drop by early the following Friday for his evening with Daisy and greets him at the door with a half-smile that he might have thought was nervous if it hadn't been overlaid with her usual smugness. She leads him in to the living room and he glances round, noticing the last of the family pictures that included him have been removed.
For God's sake, he thinks, even Miller still has pictures of Joe about her place.
He pulls in a deep breath and turns, his face expressionless, and waits for her to speak.
She rubs her forehead and says, "There's no gentle way of telling you this...Dave's moving in. In three days."
He stills, unblinking, letting her words and everything they mean sink into him. He's both devastated and blank-the same blankness he's felt ever since he returned from Broadchurch, that everything is just...finished.
He lifts his shoulders in a barely perceptible movement.
"Took him long enough," he says.
Tess' face tightens into a glare. "You need to get your stuff out of here."
That throws him.
"I have no place for it. I'm still living in a hotel."
"It's been almost two years. You need to clear it out. We're going to need the room for when Dave's kids visit."
He rolls his eyes.
"Fine," he growls. "Can I at least have a week or two to find a place to store things? You could have given me more warning."
She glances away and his eyes widen.
"Oh," he says softly, "the wife just found out, did she? This wasn't planned. Kicked Dave out, has she?"
"We'd thought the time was almost right, and then you had to stir everything up again, and now we've been stuck in this never-ending media shit storm! Do you think we'd want to move in together while people are still busily sniffing round about the pendant? Especially now you've told the world you were covering for a couple of DSs who were having an affair. God, Alec, why couldn't you have just kept your mouth shut?"
He grits his teeth against the bitter words he wants to spew out.
He doesn't love her anymore-hadn't loved her for a long time now, even if he can't pinpoint the moment it all changed. He still loves the person he'd once known, the woman he'd worked with, the woman he'd married, the woman who'd had his child.
But this woman standing in front of him-this woman who had stopped for a shag rather than deliver vital evidence to the police station, this woman who had only been too glad to let him take the fall for both her and her lover, this woman who had given up on the case and would have let three murderers walk free because she didn't want to be dropped in it...
This woman he doesn't love at all.
He's not even sure if he likes her.
"I'll get my stuff out as soon as I can make arrangements," he growls.
"There's not much, really," she says, more kindly now.
The fact he doesn't have much to show for the last twenty years says more about his life than he cares to admit.
At least he has Daisy.
"How's Daisy taking the news?" he asks.
Tess flushes. "She's fine. She likes Dave."
He ducks his head and an uneasy silence descends between them.
"Rebecca's been asking if I know who you're protecting," she says suddenly.
His gaze snaps to hers, his face expressionless. "Yah?"
"I told her I didn't know. The media just keeps asking questions." She swallows. "If we're not careful, somebody's going to figure it out."
He gives a small sigh. "I'm amazed Rebecca hasn't figured it out herself."
"She's pretty angry," Tess says.
Hardy shoves his hands in his pocket and stares at the floor.
"She trusted me," he finally mutters, and gratefully turns as the front door opens and Daisy walks into the house.
*/*/*/*/*
They go out to dinner since Hardy's still staying at the Rosewood Inn. There are still a couple of stray photographers who seem to have nothing better to do than follow him around and snap pictures. Going in to the Rosewood Inn with a young girl would only get him back in the forefront of the news for all the wrong reasons, and the truth of it wouldn't matter. He thinks of Jack Marshall and hides a shudder.
Talk with Daisy doesn't exactly flow easily, even after almost two months. He hopes that will change once he finally gets a job and a flat. It's difficult to have the conversations they need to have in a restaurant or while they're walking in the park, even if he wasn't currently under the fading glare of the media spotlight. It's not like the isolation offered by Broadchurch; in Sandbrook, there's always somebody nearby.
"I'm thinking about looking for a flat next week," he says as they stroll back to the house.
"Are you really going to stay?" she asks and he raises an eyebrow at her almost snide skepticism.
He doesn't blame her.
"I'm hoping that now things seem to be calming down that I'll get a job back at the precinct."
"And if you don't?"
He's hesitates then sighs. "I need to work," he says gently. "If not here, then I'll try to find something closer than Broadchurch."
She shrugs and looks away.
The silence weighs heavy as they walk, then he says, "You okay with Dave moving in?"
"Yah, he's all right. He's good at maths."
His stomach twists, and he remembers that one reporter asking him if it had all been worth the price he's paid.
He's glad she's not there to ask him now.
*/*/*/*/*
Ellie arrives in Sandbrook early Monday afternoon and they meet for a late lunch.
"Did we get access to the original case files?" she asks before popping a chip in her mouth.
"They've been archived," he says, poking suspiciously at his salad. "It's going to take a couple weeks to pull them back."
She's surprised then pulls a face. "I suppose it has been over ten years."
"Plus the case is closed and neither of us is working for the South Mercia constabulary. Definitely not high priority. I just hope they haven't destroyed the physical evidence."
"I'm surprised they've even agreed to let us see the files without filing a Freedom of Information request."
He shrugs. "A friend pulled some strings," he says and takes a bite of salad.
"You have friends?" Ellie asks and he rolls his eyes. She chuckles and says, "What is it about the confession that's bothering you?"
"It's too vague in the areas that matter, yet too specific in others for it to be a complete lie."
She raises an eyebrow. "You think he's taking the blame for somebody else?"
He shrugs. "I don't know. He claims he doesn't remember most of the night, yet he confessed almost immediately when they finally questioned him." He takes a bite of salad and frowns thoughtfully as he chews. "Mind you, what was in Dottie's file was a summary rather than Reynolds' actual statement. There may be more details once we can delve into the actual case files."
"When do we see Dottie?"
"Tomorrow. Ten-thirty."
"Can we get in to see Archie Reynolds?"
"He's been in the infirmary for the last week. Pneumonia. No visitors until further notice."
"So this is a pretty wasted trip for me."
"Might be. If you want to go home-"
"I drove all this way, I may as well stay and talk to Dottie."
"Right."
They eat in silence until Ellie says, "So what should we do today?"
"Isabella wants to see me at three, so we can go to the station after this. I'll show you round, if you'd like, introduce you to some of my friends."
"You have friends?" she asks again, this time with a teasing smile.
He stares, dark eyes wide and unfathomable before he gives a slight upward movement of his shoulders. "I suppose 'friends' might be too strong a word. How about 'people who owe me favours'?"
She points a chip at him. "Now, that I believe."
*/*/*/*/*
It's a beautiful day and they're not far from the station, which makes the walk almost pleasant, even if they're in a city rather than on the cliffs of Broadchurch.
They've only been walking for a few minutes when, "Alec Hardy, as I live and breathe!"
Hardy closes his eyes and groans before turning round with a scowl. Ellie gives him a curious look and turns as well.
Her eyes pop open as she takes in the handsome man striding towards them, his full lips curved in a wide, toothy grin, his hand outstretched in greeting. He looks to be in his late thirties or early forties, with closely cropped blonde hair and bright green eyes. He's not overly tall, but has broad shoulders and a well-toned physique beneath his button-down shirt and jeans. A frisson of sexual awareness shivers down Ellie's spine, something she hasn't really felt since Joe was arrested.
She pushes the thought of her soon-to-be-ex-husband out of her head and concentrates on this handsome stranger.
"Welcome home!" he says.
Hardy eyes the proffered hand with the same suspicion he'd turned on his salad then pointedly ignores it as he says, "Will," with all the pleasure he usually reserves for speaking with Ollie. Ellie presses her lips together against a snicker even as she resists the urge to smack him on the shoulder for being so damn rude.
Hardy's reaction doesn't faze the other man. Will lowers his hand and flicks his eyes over to Ellie and lets his gaze linger with interest on her wide eyes and appreciative smile.
Hardy glances between the two of them and his eyes narrow.
"You weren't quite so friendly the last time I saw you," Hardy growls. "As I recall, you told me this town couldn't see the back of me fast enough."
Will waves his words away. "I was doing me job, Hardy."
"Your job? Weren't you the one who called me an incompetent git who couldn't detect his own arsehole even if someone guided me to it?"
Miller bites her lip against a laugh and Will slowly smiles at her.
"To be fair," Will drawls, "you were in a bit of a muddle at the time. But you found the murderer-plural, really-of those poor girls, just like I always knew you would."
"Really? Is that why you demanded my resignation?"
He shrugs without taking his eyes away from Ellie. "You fucked up, Hardy. There needed to be consequences." He smiles even more widely. "Will Seymour," he says and holds out his hand.
Ellie practically simpers as she shakes his hand, her heart beating rapidly, her stomach fluttering.
"Ellie Miller," she says, and is pleased when she doesn't actually stammer.
"Ah, I suspected you were the elusive Ellie Miller. Here to hold his lordship's hand, are you?"
"Oh, God, no!"
"Ah," Will says with satisfaction, "brilliant! Does that mean you're free for dinner tonight?" He leans closer and drops his voice to a seductive rumble. "I promise I won't mention the old git over there."
Ellie blushes and almost giggles as she ducks her head and nervously pushes a lock of hair behind her ear.
"Yah, I am, and that's the best offer I've heard all day," she says.
Hardy abruptly turns his back, his lips pressed into a tight line as he fights the urge to snarl.
Even he can recognize flirting when he sees it.
Well, at least in this case.
His eyes narrow as he tightens his lips, and turns back to the pair who are now exchanging phone numbers while Will is suggesting places to go, depending on what she likes.
"Chips," Hardy says brusquely, "no salad." He raises an eyebrow and taps his watch. "Confirm your plans later; we're on the clock."
"Oh?" Will says casually, "I thought you were unemployed?"
"Oh," Ellie says, "we're-"
"Not discussing it," Hardy says sharply. "Especially not with the likes of you. C'mon, Miller."
Ellie rolls her eyes and pulls a face at the long, narrow back now striding away from them.
"Sorry," she says, with a placating smile at Will. "Call me later, yah?"
"Count on it."
She reluctantly hurries after Hardy and barely resists the urge to slap him on the back of the head.
"Why are you such a knob?" she snaps.
"He's a reporter."
She gasps and stops in her tracks. He takes another three steps before he stops and turns, an irritated scowl on his face.
"So, what? You saying the only reason he's asking me out is because of Joe?"
The confusion on his face makes her feel a little better.
"I have no idea why he asked you out. You wanted to know why I'm being a knob. That's why. Look up his editorials at the height of the controversy over Sandbrook if you really want to know our history."
She sniffs, but is somewhat placated although she's not going to let him know that.
They both glance back and see Will standing, watching after them. He smirks at Hardy and lifts a hand in farewell.
Ellie turns away with an embarrassed smile while Hardy's scowl deepens as they start walking again.
"Don't tell him anything about the case we're working on," Hardy snaps.
Now she does smack his arm. "For God's sake, I know how to keep my mouth shut round a reporter!"
His eyebrow rises as he looks at her and she suddenly remembers Ollie and bloody Twitter and she winces.
"Warning noted," she mutters.
He nods and they continue walking.
They've only gone a few blocks when another voice calls out, "Alec!"
Hardy's reaction to this voice, however, is much different. He turns to face the woman with a genuinely welcoming look on his face.
The woman is plump and matronly, staring at Hardy like she's doubting her eyes.
"It is you!" she says and flings herself at him, catching him in a tight hug.
He staggers, recoiling a little with surprise before he wraps his long arms round her and closes his eyes as he holds her tight. Ellie's stomach gives a small lurch as she sees the emotions washing over his face.
"I can't believe it's you!" the woman says, slowly releasing him and stepping away.
"It's good to see you, too, Rachel," he says and smiles, wide and sincere, and Ellie's stomach lurches again.
She clears her throat. Pointedly. He glances at her, his smile turning to a puzzled frown.
Rachel glances between the two of them and rolls her eyes. "Same old Alec," she says fondly as she smiles at Ellie and holds out her hand. "Rachel Bellamy."
"Ellie Miller."
Rachel's eyes widen. "The Ellie Miller?"
"Er…yes?" she says with an embarrassed shrug.
"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," Rachel says chattily. "The two of you are talked about practically in tandem. I suppose you can't just walk away from a partnership like that, yah?"
She chuckles comfortably and doesn't seem to notice as they exchange uncomfortable glances.
"Where are you living now?" Rachel asks Hardy. "Are you working yet?"
"No, not yet."
"Are you seriously thinking about coming back here to live? After everything that's happened?"
He ducks his head and lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "Daisy's here."
"Right. Well...you know we'd welcome you back with open arms."
"But not everybody."
"We were a town divided-you know that better than anybody! That case ripped everyone apart, whether you knew the family or not. And now! To learn Ricky Gillespie was involved?" Rachel shakes her head. "I'm not sure the truth has made anything better."
Hardy's lips twist. "I wasn't welcome when I couldn't solve the case. Now I'm not welcome because we did?"
Rachel sighs and shakes her head. "It's Sandbrook. But never mind that now. Where are you staying? How about the two of you coming round for dinner tonight? Charlie would love to see you, Alec, and he'd definitely love to meet you, Ellie!"
"Oh," Ellie says, startled, "thank you, but I already have plans."
"Ah. Another time, then." She turns bright eyes back to Hardy, who gives a small nod. "Good. The usual time. Now, where did you say you were staying?"
"I didn't."
"Alec," she says in mock-warning.
"Rosewood Inn," he mutters.
Rachel wrinkles her nose. "Oi-there? That's the worst place in town! If you feel the need for clean sheets, come bunk in with Charlie and me. Mackenzie's gone up to London."
"What! When?"
"Six months gone. House is a bit empty without her, but it means we have a spare bed if you need it."
"Rachel-"
"Think about it, all right, love? I'll leave you two to get on with your business. Tonight-don't forget!"
"I'll remember."
"Good." She turns to Ellie. "Nice meeting you." She grins at Hardy. "Charles is going to be thrilled!" She leans up, kisses his cheek then bustles away.
Ellie gapes after her and gives him a considering look. He's staring after Rachel with a bemused expression, shaking his head.
"Wee Mackenzie gone to London," he mutters. "Can't believe she grew up that much while I was gone." He looks at her. "Let's hope we don't run in to anybody else. Isabella will give us a right good bollocking if we're late."
Ellie's eyes narrow. "You never worried about that with me!"
He shrugs. "You give me right good bollockings for no reason at all," he drawls and once again begins to walk.
She rolls her eyes and hurries after him.
*/*/*/*/*
Hardy leads her through the police station, pausing to introduce her to a couple of detectives, until they finally reach Isabella's office, where he knocks on the open door and walks inside.
Ellie looks with interest at the woman behind the desk. Isabella's an attractive brunette and younger than Ellie had expected, mid-thirties at most, but she looks as polished and professional as Ellie had imagined a public relations expert would be. Isabella's professional demeanour is in direct contrast to the lively amusement on her face as she watches Hardy lower himself into a chair with a resigned, albeit disgusted, expression.
"Oh, come on, Hardy, you should be used to our little chats by now," Isabella says before turning a bright smile on Ellie. "You must be the elusive Ellie Miller."
Ellie's answering smile turns a little strained. "Is that everybody's nickname for me?"
"Only those of us trying to track you down for an interview." She sits up. "Is that why you're here?"
"Bloody hell, no!"
"She's in town on business," Hardy growls.
"With you?" Isabella leans forward. "Is that why you were in Broadchurch a week or so ago? Are the two of you working on another case?"
Hardy rolls his eyes. "Let the media feeding frenzy die down, Isabella. Don't you have other people who would enjoy having you make their lives a living hell?"
"Hardy!" Ellie scolds, but Isabella only laughs.
"Probably," Isabella says cheerfully, "but there's no one I enjoy torturing more. Unfortunately, your dreams are coming true. The only thing I have this week is from the producers of Close to Home. Since the Sandbrook Three are being sentenced on Thursday, they're updating the episode to include interviews with them. It's airing again a week Friday."
Ellie's eyes widen. "That's the first anniversary," she says. "Danny," she clarifies for Isabella.
Isabella gives her a sympathetic smile. "I doubt that's a coincidence. I'm sorry."
Ellie nods, hot tears pricking her eyes.
Isabella continues, "The media's going to be out in force on Thursday, so be prepared if you're at the sentencing."
"Of course I'll be at the sentencing," Hardy says. "It's almost over. I'm going to see it through."
"Just so you know."
"Awright. But nothing else?" he says hopefully.
"No, nothing. I expect there'll be a flurry of requests for statements on Thursday, but we've got some standard responses all ready." She smiles. "Looks like your life is getting back to normal."
"Finally."
"Maybe Rebecca will even give you a job once you're not talking to the media all day."
He rolls his eyes. "One can only hope," he mutters.
"Did she always hate your guts?" Ellie asks.
"She doesn't hate me," Hardy says, surprised. "She's just angry. You should be able to relate to that."
"Fine. But why is she so angry with you? I mean, I understand being angry, but all of this seems a bit over the top."
Hardy ducks his head, pulls in a deep breath through his nose, then looks from Ellie to Isabella and back.
"Rebecca was my first partner when I arrived in Sandbrook," he says. "We were partners for over a year. We worked well together. Still do when she isn't struggling to keep herself from wringing my neck." He glances again at the two women, and his mouth quirks up. "I think you two understand that, at least. We remained friends even after we shifted to new partners. I knew she'd go far. She could go farther still-but Sandbrook stalled her career, too. There were a lot of rumors right after the case fell apart."
He frowns, his eyes sad. "She trusted me, and I...didn't tell her everything. I lied to her by omission." He pauses, considering. "That's probably what hurts her the most." He pulls in a deep breath through his nose and shrugs. "At the time, of course, she was angry because she thought I'd fucked up, but she was more worried I'd finally gone mad if I was stopping for a drink rather than rushing vital evidence to the station."
"So why'd she fire you?" Ellie asks.
"No choice." He turns wide, bottomless brown eyes towards her. "Read your new friend's columns. Karen White was almost kind compared to him. Rebecca would have lost her job, too, if she hadn't done something about me."
"New friend?" Isabella asks with interest.
Hardy sends a warning look in her direction just as Ellie's phone rings.
"Speaking of my new friend," she says with a wide smile when she sees the number. She excuses herself and steps out of the office.
Hardy watches her go, then realizes Isabella is watching him intently.
A flush rises in his cheeks, but he raises an eyebrow and doesn't look away.
She smirks and says, "What are your plans for tonight, Hardy, since it sounds like Ellie's going to be busy?"
"I have my own dinner plans," he says flatly.
"Ah, right. Of course."
Ellie returns, her eyes shining. "I need to go shopping. He said I'll need a pretty frock."
"Go to High Street, it's the main shopping district," Isabella says. "Turn right when you go out the main doors. It's four blocks over."
"Brilliant," Ellie says and turns to Hardy. "We're finished for today, yah?"
He gives a slight nod.
"Brilliant," she says again and hurries away.
Hardy looks after her, bittersweet regret washing over him. He looks at Isabella and stands.
"I'm assuming we're done here?" he says.
"Yes," she says. "Have a lovely dinner tonight," and Hardy flushes again as he realizes she doesn't actually believe he has plans.
As he walks to the door, she says, "Remember, the press will be all over that courtroom on Thursday."
"I'm not likely to forget," he growls and walks out the door.
*/*/*/*/*
Half-way to the shops, Ellie starts to have second thoughts. She considers calling Will back and insisting on going somewhere where her usual slacks, shirt and sensible shoes would be perfectly acceptable. It's been years since she's needed to buy a dress and the realization makes her a little sad. She used to enjoy putting on a pretty dress and showing off her legs which she'd always privately considered her best asset.
That gradually faded away after she married Joe, and she begins to wonder if everything that had happened could have been prevented if she'd tried to be more attractive to him.
She pulls herself up short at the thought.
He hadn't cheated on her with another woman, like Mark had done. He had 'fallen in love'-she almost spits at the phrase-with an eleven-year-old boy. That was entirely on Joe and had absolutely nothing to do with her.
She lifts her chin and continues on, even as her initial excitement at being asked out on a date-a date of all things!-by a man as attractive as Will Seymour begins to give way to anxiety. She remembers her night out with Claire and the unfortunate shag at the end of it. That wasn't that long ago, and she's still not sure she's really ready to start dating. Hell, it's only coming up to a year that Danny's been gone!
So much has changed in the last twelve months...
She shakes her head.
It's only dinner, and she's not going to be drunk and despairing and out with a woman with a hidden agenda of her own. Besides, it'll be a nice change to sit across from a handsome man who actually knows how to make conversation.
She pushes down her uncertainty, straightens her shoulders, and forges on to face the perils of dress shopping.
She finds something she thinks will do: a dark blue dress, fitted to show off her once-again-slender waist. The stress from having a husband confess to murder had slimmed her down to her pre-Fred weight again. She wishes it had been for a better reason.
She shakes off her melancholy, finds some shoes to wear with the dress, and glances at her watch as she leaves the shoe shop.
There's still a couple hours before she needs to be back at the hotel to get ready. She walks into one of the shops to ask for directions and heads to the library.
*/*/*/*/*
Hardy arrives on Rachel and Charlie's doorstep carrying his usual offering of pastries for afters-something he didn't have to agonize about-and is welcomed like the prodigal son.
The meal is delicious as always, and Hardy finds himself, for the first time in at least two years, relaxing and enjoying himself with people who genuinely like him without the complications that, well, knowing him usually creates.
It's a pleasant evening, filled with genuine laughter and warmth, and Hardy's torn between revelling in it, and holding himself aloof because he knows it's only a matter of time before it's torn away from him again.
By the end of it, he's promised to be back with Daisy on Sunday when Mackenzie is visiting from London, and Rachel and Charlie have offered him the use of their cellar to store the belongings he has to move out of Tess' house.
He wanders back to the Rosewood, lifts a hand in greeting to the night clerk, and lets himself into his room.
While the thought of Miller on a date with bloody Will Seymour has been scratching at the back of his mind all night, he has to admit he feels...pleased as he strips off his clothes and gets ready for bed.
As he slides beneath the covers he thinks it may actually be possible to return to some semblance of his former life.
*/*/*/*/*
Ellie lets herself into her hotel room and thoughtfully considers her evening as she kicks her new shoes off her aching feet and flops backward on the bed.
Will is as charming and engaging as she'd hoped, and he certainly isn't at a loss when it comes to making conversation. She never once had the urge to call him a knob or a wanker or to even raise her voice at him.
Of course, the subtly probing questions did make her want to raise an eyebrow or two, but she resisted as she gave him glib non-answers. She isn't sure if she should thank Hardy or yell at him for putting her on her guard. Will had been obviously puzzled by her refusal of anything more than a good-night kiss, which had been as practiced and skilful as she expected, a pleasurable experience that still left her curiously unmoved.
Reading several of the editorials Will published during the height of the Sandbrook scandal hadn't helped. Hardy had, as usual, downplayed the extent of the vitriol levelled against him and it took all her self-control not to demand Will explain why he'd been so determined to see Hardy suffer for every setback in that case.
She pushes herself off the bed with a sigh, strips off her clothes and gets ready for bed.
Knowing Hardy, she thinks as she slips beneath the covers, he'd probably insulted Will during another case and it had festered from there.
She chuckles at the thought and turns out the light.
*/*/*/*/*
They meet at nine for a late breakfast, and Ellie deliberately doesn't bring up her evening with Will.
Hardy deliberately doesn't ask.
They eat breakfast with a slightly uncomfortable air and a minimum of conversation before setting out for Dottie's house, arriving at exactly ten-thirty.
Dottie's bright eyes dart from one to the other as she sets the tea down on the kitchen table and sits across from them.
"Well? Are you going to help me?" she says.
Hardy leans forward, resting his loosely clasped hands on the table.
"You didn't tell me somebody confessed to killing your daughter," he says, his voice gentle, his Scottish lilt almost a purr.
"I thought you'd remember, once you had time to search your memory. You were in Sandbrook at the time, weren't you?"
"Aye, but ten years is a long time, and it wasn't my case."
"Ten years, nine months and one day. And no. It wasn't."
Ellie raises an eyebrow. "It sounds like you think...what? It would have been solved sooner if it had been Hardy's case?"
"No," Dottie replies. "I think it would have been solved correctly."
Hardy and Miller stare, their eyes widening.
"You don't think Archie Reynolds is guilty?" Hardy slowly asks.
Dottie leans forward with a brittle smile. "I don't think Francesca is dead. Tea?"
*/*/*/*/*