A/N: I can't believe it's been almost two weeks since I last updated! Time is going too fast again!
If I have any outstanding messages/reviews that I haven't responded to yet, know that I thank you for them and I WILL be responding (likely on the weekend). *flails*
*/*/*/*/*
Ellie and Hardy work until almost one but in the end they get through all the boxes and even combine a few to make a little more room in the office. Hardy replaces the last one on the stack and Ellie glances at the time and says, "Come on, I'll take you home."
"Well, the hotel anyway," he groans, rubbing the small of his back and twisting his torso to stretch. She watches the way his shoulder muscles move beneath his white shirt and wonders what everyone keeps bleating on about. He's just the same skinny streak of Scottish grumpiness he's always been...although he seemed more than broad enough when she'd been tucked in front of him as they studied the murder board.
Out of the two of us, I think I'm the only one who's really seen him. She frowns at the memory of Isabella's words.
Ellie realizes he's turned and is watching her with a questioning frown. She starts a little and hurriedly says, "No, my place." She's slightly horrified she's made the offer, but it's too late now so she barrels on. "Daisy's hopefully asleep and I have an extra sofa you can use." He raises an eyebrow, and she adds, "That way we can finalize our plans for next week over breakfast. Leeds, then London, then Sandbrook, right?"
His expression doesn't change and she realizes she's admiring his eyes and the puzzled crinkles at their edges as he stares at her.
"Or I can just be at your house in time for breakfast," he says mildly.
"What-my sofa not good enough for you?"
"I'm sure it's perfectly lovely," he says drily, "but do you really want to explain to Daisy and Tom how you went on a date with one man and ended up with a different one sleeping on your sofa in the morning?"
"Well, better than in my bed!"
She's kicking herself as soon as the words leave her mouth and she silently curses Lucy and Isabella and Will and everyone, really, who ever put such a stupid idea in her head in the first place.
He's seemingly frozen in place, with wide, dark eyes and a flush creeping into his cheeks. He shifts as the silence stretches between them and her eyes follow his hands and his long, surprisingly graceful fingers as he rests them on his lean hips and she has a sudden sharp desire to see how those hands would feel against her skin.
Oh, shit, she thinks with dawning horror. Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
He clears his throat and her eyes dart back to his as he says, "Better, yah, but still not easy to explain. What time's breakfast?"
*/*/*/*/*
He arrives at the appointed time and all of Ellie's hopes that her strange reactions to him were caused by sleep deprivation are immediately dashed when she takes in his sleep-and-breeze-ruffled hair and almost-pleased-to-see-her scowl. She doesn't know how to act and she begins babbling almost from the moment she sees him on her threshold. She knows she's being awkward and over-compensating and his scowl is getting more bewildered and annoyed by the minute but she can't seem to help herself.
Thankfully the kids help to ease things somewhat, and breakfast is rambunctious and loud although her confusion and embarrassment isn't helped by Hardy actually chuckling once or twice. It's easier once they start talking about work and making plans for the next week. Daisy happily agrees to stay with the boys while they're away and they decide to leave the next afternoon after they run a few errands and get new cell phones for the kids.
"I may need to stay in Sandbrook for a few extra days, to talk with Tess," Hardy says with a significant look at Daisy. "We need to make some decisions."
She shrugs. "I like it here and I want to stay with you."
"Have you told your mother that?"
She drops her gaze to her plate and shifts uncomfortably.
"Daisy."
"I'll call her today," she mumbles.
"Right," Hardy says, "well, once that's done, we'll get you registered in school when I'm back."
"I can get the paperwork for you," Ellie says. "I have to go there for Tom anyway so I may as well run by tomorrow and pick up a packet for you."
His look is thoughtfully assessing before he nods.
Tom and Daisy exchange glances and Daisy says, "Listen, Dad, you know Traders isn't really the best place for us-I know, there hasn't been anything else! It's just-" She and Tom exchange another nervous glance before she blurts, "we saw a house for lease yesterday."
Hardy's eyebrow is practically in his hairline and his voice is warily suspicious as he says, "Yah? Looked nice, did it? At least from the outside?"
Daisy nods eagerly and he shoots a questioning glance at Miller, but she only grimaces and gives him small shrug. She's as much in the dark as he is.
"It's across the common. From here," Daisy says then holds her breath.
He blinks and leans back. "Next to the Latimers?"
"No, no-on the third side of the common. We'd be across from both the Latimers and here," Daisy says. "So, neighbours but not too close, yah?"
His eyes go wide. "I...I don't-"
"Can we at least look at it?" Daisy begs.
He risks a glance at Miller, who's looking surprisingly calm at the idea considering she's been acting like a skittish cat all morning, to the point where he's wondering if he's given himself away somehow. If Isabella recognized the truth in less than fifteen minutes...he comforts himself with the thought that while Miller's been strangely nervous she's doesn't appear to be horrified or appalled, so his secret should still be safe.
Or she's chosen to ignore it, which works just as well.
He returns his attention to the matter at hand and his daughter's hopeful face. "Living so close to somebody you work with every day isn't always a good idea, Daisy."
Daisy scoffs. "We lived next door to Uncle Charlie and Aunt Rachel when Uncle Charlie was still working at the police station."
"He wasn't my partner," Hardy says weakly. "He wasn't even a police officer!"
She rolls her eyes. "You married Mum, and you were her partner before you were her boss!"
"And look how well that turned out!" He winces, eyes dark with apology, but she's just giving him her long-suffering, adults-are-so-stupid look.
"Ellie isn't Mum," she says, "and we're talking about living across an entire field! You wouldn't have to see each other if you don't want to. Besides, where are you having breakfast right now?"
Hardy's mouth opens and closes soundlessly while Miller laughs.
"She's got you there, Hardy," she says as she stands and begins clearing the table. It's the most natural she's sounded—or acted—since he got here.
Hardy sighs. "Fine," he growls, "if it's still available when we're back, we'll take a look at it."
"We-ell," Daisy says and gives him a beaming smile. His eyes narrow.
"You've already talked to the leasing agent, haven't you," he says flatly.
She doesn't look guilty at all as she says, "We can see it at eight tomorrow morning. That still leaves you plenty of time to pick up the phones and do whatever else you need to do before leaving for Leeds."
"Whatever else-like signing a lease, you mean?"
She blinks wide, innocent eyes. "If that's what happens."
He groans and hangs his head in defeat while Miller laughs beside him.
*/*/*/*/*
Hardy grudgingly admits the house is nice enough and large enough, and the rent is reasonable. He signs the paperwork with only a token grumble and a long-suffering glare at his daughter but he can't deny his own relief at the prospect of getting out of hotels for the first time in three months and having a place to call his own again.
Even if it is only leased.
Ellie, meanwhile, gets the phones and picks up the school registration packet, and they're both feeling smugly satisfied as they kiss their children good-bye and start the long drive to Leeds. To the secret relief of both of them, all the awkwardness and discomfort of the previous day is gone like it had never existed.
*/*/*/*/*
Della Goodwin is a far cry from her picture of almost eleven years earlier. She's no longer the smiling, bright-eyed, confident girl in the photographs pinned to their murder board. Her face is still pretty but it's now wreathed in fat instead of smiles, her wary eyes dimmed with shadowed pain. She fidgets nervously at the table across from them, her fingers drumming on the arms of her chair or restlessly searching across the table top.
Ellie glances at Hardy and sees the predatory gleam in his eyes as he stares at Della.
"What do you remember about the night Francesca disappeared?" he says, leaning forward, intent and focused.
Della shrinks back. "I try not to remember anything about that night," she says.
"Because of Francesca or because of Archie?"
"Both." Her gaze slides away and she blinks rapidly. "Frankie was...well, she was the brains of the group, but Archie...Archie was the heart, yah?"
Hardy's eyebrow goes up at that. "Because he was the only man?"
She laughs, light and joyous, and the young girl she'd been shines through. "Oh, God, no! Because he was the most sensitive, the one who would do anything for any of us, because he loved us all so much."
"But he loved Francesca the most?" Ellie says.
Della's smile disappears and the young girl with it. "We-ell, yes, if you can call what that turned into 'love'."
"What does that mean?" Ellie demands and Hardy gives her a swift warning glance as Della shrinks into herself again. Ellie forces herself to relax and gentles her voice. "What did it turn into?"
"He was so..." Della trails off, frowning.
They sit in silence, waiting her out.
"Obsessed," she says finally. "I think that's the only word to describe it. Anything Frankie wanted, Frankie got, no matter how daft it was." She shakes her head. "I can't believe he really intended to leave for London." She glances at their puzzled faces. "Frankie was dead set against it."
"Were you surprised when he confessed?" Hardy asks.
She grimaces. "Surprised doesn't even begin to describe what I felt! I never..." she shakes her head. "Archie isn't like that. He isn't violent-I never even saw him kill a spider, not even for Frankie!-and we spent almost all our waking hours together."
"He was the heart and he loved you all, was obsessed with Frankie-yet he was the first one to at least claim to be leaving," Ellie says.
"We all wanted to. If he had made it up to London, we would have probably followed, I imagine, trying to make our fortunes. He never took the chance."
"Well, Francesca did disappear the Saturday before he left."
"But he never tried to leave again even after the search for Frankie stopped and the investigation ended."
"Do you think that's evidence of his guilt? Do you think he's lying when he says he doesn't remember what happened that night?"
Della scowls. "He has to be," she says flatly. "Making her disappear that thoroughly had to have taken some time. He couldn't just throw her in the garbage bin and hope it got picked up before anyone started searching for her." She pauses, frowning, hands moving restlessly over the table. "Could he?" she asks almost plaintively.
"He could," Hardy says gently and Ellie slides a glance his way. "He could have just got lucky that way. It happens sometimes."
Della blinks teary eyes as his words sink in. "Oh," she says in a small voice.
"Can you walk us through what you remember of that night?"
She sighs.
"Dinner was at seven at the Side Street Bar and Grill, then we went to Spot." She smiles suddenly, bright and shining, and Ellie feels a sudden kinship with the girl, understanding her lost innocence. "Such a great place to go! I wanted to stay there because it was always so much fun, but Elena and Frankie and Ginger insisted we keep going. Anyway, we went from Spot to Plymouth Tavern, then Bunk House Bar and Grill-" she pulls a face. "Not my favourite and thankfully it went out of business quick." She sees Ellie's puzzled look. "It was an American western kind of place." She shakes her head. "Oi, what were they thinking? Thankfully we didn't stay long and went to Blossom's then Chumley's. After that, it gets vague."
"Do you remember where Bianca passed out?" Ellie asks.
She scowls. "Not really. I know it was small and dark, a pub, you know, one of the old ones. Lots of wood and weird smells and old men drinking in corners," she says vaguely.
Hardy raises an eyebrow and leans forward, dark eyes suddenly sharp and intent.
"Do you remember where you met up with the group once Bianca was awake enough to walk?" he asks.
Della frowns, thinking, then shakes her head.
"Was it another pub or was it a modern bar?"
She thinks again, then slowly says, "Another pub, I think. Quiet, because I think that's where Archie and Frankie started their row. At least..." she trails off, frowning, then says, "I remember Frankie yelling, and it was just...so loud, and she was so angry and scared and I remember I was worried we were going to get kicked out and I didn't want to be taken home by the cops again because my Dad would have beat my arse nine ways to Sunday and tried to stop me from seeing the AlphaBetties again."
"Do you remember what they were arguing about?" Ellie asks.
Della shakes her head, her hands searching, searching, searching over the table. "I've tried to remember, but no. I just know Frankie was angry and scared...and loud. Very loud. It all just echoes in my head."
*/*/*/*/*
Hardy and Miller don't really speak about the interview until they're on their way to London, when Miller says, "What caught your attention?"
He slides a glance her way. "The old pubs. They're in a completely different area of Sandbrook than the bars they started in." He pauses, staring out the window. "The old pubs are close to the river."
She looks at him in surprise. "You mean everyone's been looking in the wrong places all this time?"
He lifts his shoulder in a slight shrug.
"How far apart are the old pubs from where they started out?"
"Far enough they'd need to drive or take taxis to get from one to the other."
"There aren't any statements from taxi drivers in the files," Ellie says slowly.
"I know."
*/*/*/*/*
Cora Ramirez is tall, slender and stunningly beautiful-which is only to be expected from a woman who was once a model before she moved on to designing her own clothes. She's poised and coolly collected, watching them with calm, dark eyes, her long black hair tumbling round her shoulders in artful waves.
"I'm surprised you're investigating Frankie's murder," she says and even her voice is beautiful. "In case you didn't know, the killer confessed and is in prison right now."
"Not her murder," Hardy says briskly. "Her mother asked us to locate her body."
Cora's face changes and for a moment there's no beauty there at all. "That old cow! Why would she want to find Frankie now, after all this time?"
Ellie raises an eyebrow at Cora's reaction. "She's an aging mother who wants to bury her daughter," she says mildly.
Cora makes a harsh, scoffing noise. "That woman made Frankie's life a living hell. She just wants to control Frankie even into the grave."
"Or at least have a grave she can go to in order to try and control her," Ellie snaps and Hardy gives her a warning look.
Cora sneers a little. "After everything that woman did to Frankie, forgive me for not having much sympathy for her 'grief'." She deliberately turns her attention to Hardy. "I gave my statement to the police eleven years ago when Frankie disappeared. I have nothing more to add." She rises gracefully to her feet. "I'll see myself out."
*/*/*/*/*
"Well, that wasn't quite how I expected that interview to go," Ellie grumbles as she angrily stabs her fork into the chips on the plate in front of her.
Hardy shrugs. "We can always try again if we need to," he says.
Ellie gives him a hard look. "You don't think we're going to learn anything new, do you?"
He shrugs again. "We already learned they may have been in a completely different part of Sandbrook than anyone originally thought. That's something."
Ellie chews, glaring hard at him. He looks up, hair hanging in his eyes, and raises an eyebrow. She pauses in mid-chew because—bloody hell-Lucy and Isabella were right: he really is attractive.
"Miller?"
She starts a little, feeling a hot flush creep up her cheeks as he gives her puzzled scowl. "Yes," she says, nodding furiously, "I suppose that's something."
His intense eyes don't waver from her face as he picks up his water and she watches his long, graceful fingers wrap round the glass and lift it to his lips. Heat curls in her stomach and she thinks this is the worst possible time to suddenly get turned on by Hardy, of all the bloody people. She forces herself to refocus on the subject at hand.
"Do you find it odd that the stories have all been so consistent?" she says.
"Bloody odd," he growls, "but it's been eleven years and they're all friends. If they've repeatedly talked about it through the years, trying to make sense of things, then I can see them settling on a story that makes sense of the bits and pieces they each remember, and convincing themselves it's the truth."
"You don't think it is?"
"I don't know what it is yet," he sighs. He gives her a steady look. "It's not the consistent story that worries me."
"No? What is it, then?"
He raises an eyebrow.
"The fact they all conveniently managed to lose their memories at exactly the same time?" she says drily.
He smiles slowly and the heat curling in her stomach practically explodes and she's torn between running from the restaurant like the fires of hell are licking at her heels and leaping across the table to tackle him to the ground.
"It seems to be a rather interesting coincidence," he says, snapping her back to the fact they're actually working, and now is not the time to get distracted.
She clears her throat and says, "Yes, isn't it," and keeps her eyes on her food for the rest of the meal.
*/*/*/*/*
Elena Mckinney is extremely polished and just as extremely professional, her eyes calm and appraising. She answers their questions without hesitation or resentment, and like everyone else-and they assume Cora has the same story-her memories of the night are foggy after the group left Chumley's. She does confirm that Bianca and Della were left in one of the old pubs, but she doubts they'd even noticed the name of the place before they staggered in.
"What do you remember about the row between Archie and Francesca?" Hardy asks.
Elena shrugs. "Not much."
"So it happened after you left Chumley's then?"
She gives him a faint smile. "Must have, because I remember everything-I assume-before then."
"Was it after the entire group was together again?"
She nods.
"Do you remember anything about the places you went after Della and Bianca rejoined the group? More pubs or more modern bars?" Miller asks.
"Oh, more pubs," she says then pauses. "I think," she adds. She gives them a rueful smile. "We've talked about this so much, trying to remember, I'm not always sure anymore what truly happened and what we've decided must have happened, if you know what I mean."
"Oh, aye," Hardy says, "I know exactly what you mean."
*/*/*/*/*
They spend a pleasant evening in London, going to a restaurant neither had been to before, deliberately avoiding any place they'd gone with their ex-spouses. To Ellie's relief, she's only slightly distracted by his hands or eyes or mouth or, well, everything, really, but she manages to ignore it all and keep things on the slightly acerbic, teasing level she's used to. The only awkward moment is at the end, when they stroll back to the hotel and their rooms across the hall from each other.
For one wild moment, Ellie thinks about kissing him good-night, just to see what it feels feel like, or just to see his reaction...or maybe her own. Maybe it's all she needs to get this insanity out of her system. After all, she'd been excited to go for dinner with Will only to end up...disappointed by her reactions to his kisses. Maybe it's all just a sign she isn't ready to move on from Joe—what she thought she'd had with Joe. No matter what her mind says, her body shows her the truth. Well, it's not a surprise, really, after all, it isn't even a year yet and-
"Miller?"
She looks at Hardy's questioning face and heat rushes into her cheeks.
"Right," she says abruptly, "good-night. Meet at seven for breakfast? Then on to Sandbrook and Ginger Delgado, yah?"
He nods and she gives him an awkward nod in return as she hastily unlocks the door then stands pressed against it when she's scrambled inside and closed it again.
She needs to pull herself together, she tells herself sternly, her cheeks hot, or Hardy's going to think she's lost her mind.
*/*/*/*/*
Hardy lets himself in to his hotel room and thinks he may have to take these trips on his own from now on. Miller seems to be having trouble focusing and he wonders if it's because it's coming up to a year since he arrested Joe and that's weighing on her, or if it's because of Will bloody Seymour or if it's because she's worried about the boys or if it's just because she's with him.
He could just ask her, he supposes as he gets ready for bed, but it will likely be as successful as all the other times he's tried to reach out to her and be supportive...well, as supportive as he can get.
Well, he assures himself as he slip beneath the covers and turns off the light, at least that awkward moment in the hallway couldn't possibly be his fault this time. He'd just been standing there, minding his own business.
*/*/*/*/*
Ginger Delgado is bleary-eyed and dishevelled, smelling of stale cigarette smoke and even staler beer. Her face is haggard, skin already sagging in her cheeks and she sits at the table with one foot propped up on the chair, arms round her knee as her eyes dart from one to the other of them, then round the room and back, only to begin the cycle all over again.
"I don't remember much," she mutters, "especially once we left Chumley's."
"Do you remember anything at all after Chumley's?" Hardy asks.
"I just said I didn't," she snaps and shakes her head. "Can't believe you're famous for your detecting skills."
Hardy ignores the comment. "No flashes of memories? Snapshots, even? Do you remember the row between Francesca and Archie?"
She shakes her head as she plucks restlessly at a small fraying hole in her jeans, her gaze roving round the room and never settling for long on either him or Miller. "I must not have been there for that," she says. "I know a couple of the others remember it, but I don't remember anything."
"Do you remember where Bianca and Della were left behind?"
She snorts a little. "Binky was always passing out-she was such a lightweight! Still is, I expect. Makes it tough to know what was that night and what happened before."
"Not even a guess?"
Ginger shakes her head. "Can I go now?" she asks.
They wait until the door closes behind her then Ellie says, "She's lying."
"Oh, aye," Hardy says. "The question is why."
*/*/*/*/*
They stop at the police station so Hardy can, as he puts it, 'call in a favour', and Ellie watches with bemusement as he greets a mousy, fifty-ish Detective Sergeant with a crisp, "Craig."
Craig looks mousy, but her smile as she looks up is sparkling. "Alec Hardy," she says, "does this mean I'm forgiven?"
"We-ell," he says, "maybe. If you do something for me."
Craig gives Ellie a long-suffering look. "Of course," she says drily, "but first, tell me why I never saw hide nor hair of you except in the news while you were living in Sandbrook yet now you're standing at my desk with that look in your eyes?"
"'That' look?" Ellie asks, amused.
"You know the one-that 'please, please, please do this one thing for me and I'll never ask you for anything else ever again' look. Don't believe it. There'll always be something else."
Hardy rolls his eyes. "Does that mean no?"
"Well, I did fuck up with Ashworth, so I guess I owe you, although it all worked out in the end, didn't it? What do you need?"
"I need you to go through the files on all the Jane Doe's over the last eleven years and tell me where the remains were found."
She raises an eyebrow. "You didn't get the files earlier?"
"Oh, aye, but giving me a list of where each one was found would be helpful."
She gives him a stern, tight-lipped glare then rolls her eyes. "Stop looking at me like that—you'll have it in your e-mail in a couple days."
"You're a star, Craig," he all but purrs and Ellie hides a shiver, "and if you come through on this, I might decide to forgive you for the Ashworth thing."
"At least until you need another favour."
*/*/*/*/*
They're staying at Rachel and Charlie's, and Tess joins them for dinner that evening. She's subdued but only slightly less smug than Ellie remembers and she wonders what it would take to destroy that smugness for good. The meal is friendly enough, but Ellie's aware of Tess' eyes shifting between her and Hardy with an assessing gleam.
"We're moving into a house at the start of the month," Hardy says in response to a question from Tess about how long he planned on staying at Traders.
"Oh?" Tess says. "Where?"
"Across the common from my place," Ellie says brightly, and Tess' eyes narrow as she glances sharply at her.
"Really."
"First half-decent place that's come up for lease since we've been in Broadchurch," Hardy says, seemingly oblivious to Tess' flat tones. "We'll be almost the same distance from the Latimers as well, which is good, since Daisy and Chloe seem to like each other well enough."
"Ah. You chose the house for Daisy, then."
"Daisy chose the house," Hardy clarifies, "I just signed the lease."
"How do you feel about it, Ellie?" Rachel asks with a grin. "You work together every day, now you're neighbours?"
"We'll hardly see each other," Hardy says quickly.
"Or no more than we already do," Ellie says. "Our backyards face each other, but really, we don't need to cross paths outside work unless we want to."
"You've thought this through," Tess says, a tight smile on her lips as she looks from one to the other.
Hardy frowns. "We barely tolerate each other when we're working together," he says and Ellie rolls her eyes. "If we can't avoid each other on the weekends, God knows where we'll end up."
"Right," Tess says but she doesn't sound convinced.
Hardy's frown changes to a scowl before he turns to Rachel and Charlie. "I can get everything out of your cellar after the first."
"We'll bring it down," Charlie offers and smiles fondly at Rachel. "You really liked Broadchurch, didn't you?"
Rachel nods. "It's a lovely little place."
"Dave and I can bring Daisy's things down that weekend as well," Tess says, and there's a sudden stillness at the table as all eyes swivel towards Hardy.
He raises an eyebrow. "I'm sure Becca will love to have you at the Traders," he says carefully. "Two rooms will be coming free right then."
Tess' smile turns a little cruel. "Maybe we'll come down a little earlier. I haven't seen Daisy much this summer."
Hardy takes a sip of wine, his eyes never wavering from Tess'. He swallows and deliberately sets his glass back on the table. "I'm sure Daisy would love to see you," he says.
Tess drops her gaze to the table with a grimace. "We'll come down sometime next week. Help you get the house ready once you get the keys."
His eyes widen. "And stay at Traders?"
She shrugs. "Why not?"
*/*/*/*/*
"Are you going to be all right with Tess and Dave staying in the same hotel as you?" Ellie asks as they drive back to Broadchurch in the morning.
"Do I look like I'm all right with it?" he growls.
She drives in silence for a moment, her stomach dropping at the anger in his voice. "Do you still love her that much?" she asks softly.
"I don't love her at all, but I still have some pride! Having to be in the same hotel as my ex-wife and the man she threw me over for-" he runs a hand through his hair and grinds his teeth. "I'd swear she's doing it deliberately if she hadn't been so bloody happy to be shot of me."
Ellie raises an eyebrow but only says, "Well, if it gets to be too much, I have a sofa you can sleep on."
His mouth quirks up into something that's almost a smile. "You may regret that offer," he says.
"Probably," she sighs, "but I can't let you suffer, even if it's, well, you."
That surprises a short chuckle out of him and she melts a little at the sound.
"Well, I'll do my best to be a good house-guest, Miller, so you won't regret making the offer."
Too late, she thinks even as she smiles at him.
*/*/*/*/*