Warnings: Contains violence, blood, hints of child abuse, mention of suicide. It's not graphic or explicit, but some scenes may be disturbing.
*/*/*/*/*
Hardy and Ellie eat ice cream and watch three episodes of some light-hearted 'detective' drama from America and grumpily nitpick each breach of protocol 'or simple logic, Miller!' before spending twenty minutes making out on the sofa. Miller tells him she just wanted him to shut the hell up. They spend another ten minutes kissing good-bye at the back door and they're both smiling as she leaves.
Brunch is at the Latimers the next day, and Hardy and Miller endure all the good-natured teasing about the picture on the web.
"At least you won the pool," Hardy says to Daisy as they walk into their house that evening.
"I know my dad," she says smugly and for a moment she looks exactly like her mother.
Hardy shakes his head and says, "How much did you win?"
"A fiver from everyone who was in it."
"Do I even want to know how many that was?" he asks drily.
"Probably not."
He heaves a long-suffering sigh just as his phone rings. He raises an eyebrow when he sees it's Rebecca. His amusement quickly fades as she briskly tells him the Professional Standards review of Tess and Dave's cases is complete and she'd like him in Sandbrook for Tuesday morning.
"Awright," he growls, mentally rearranging the interviews with the rest of the AlphaBetties to later in the week. "I'll be there."
"Good," Rebecca says, "I'll see you at eight a.m. Good-night, Hardy-oh, and tell Daisy I'll give you the fiver I owe her."
He's still softly cursing as she hangs up the phone.
Daisy's cheerful demeanour changes when he tells her about the appointment and what it's about. She ducks her head and nods when he tells her he'll catch the train the next afternoon.
"Daisy?" he says. "Things are going to be all right. We're going to get through this. All of us."
She nods without quite looking at him and escapes upstairs.
*/*/*/*/*
Hardy walks in to Rebecca's office at eight sharp on Tuesday morning and gives her a nod. She nods back, her face impassive, and she becomes even more impassive when a tense Tess and Dave arrive followed by a man Hardy doesn't recognize. The stranger is young and almost as tall and skinny as he is, and looks visibly nervous as he surveys the people in the room.
"Good," Rebecca says briskly, "let's begin. This is DI Stewart from the Professional Standards Department. His team completed the investigation." She nods at the man in question, and he nods back, his sharp Adam's apple bobbing as he looks round and swallows. Hardy sees Dave give Tess a smugly incredulous look as he visibly relaxes in his chair.
Stewart lowers his eyes, says "Right," and flips open the folder he has in his hand. He quickly scans the top page and looks back at Tess and Dave. Suddenly the nervous boy is gone and in his place is a sharp-eyed investigator. Hardy mentally raises his eyebrow in grudging admiration.
Stewart says, "We reviewed all of your cases since your affair began almost four years ago."
Now Hardy's eyebrow rises in reality as he does the math.
Stewart continues, "For the most part, there were no major breaches in police protocol or maintaining the chain of evidence."
"For the most part?" Hardy says sharply.
Stewart gives him a small smile and nods at Rebecca. "CS Cranston runs a tight ship, DI Hardy, and so did you. There were numerous checks and balances to keep things proper. Any breaches were small and cast no doubt on the evidence collected."
"Until Sandbrook," Hardy growls.
Stewart nods. "Yes. Until Sandbrook." He turns his attention back to Tess and Dave. "The circumstances surrounding the theft of the pendant was the most egregious breach of protocol either of you had ever made. During our investigation, you both confirmed it was Dave's idea to stop for a drink and Dave who initiated the sex."
Hardy winces as the other two nod and wonders if it's ever going to get easier to hear about his former wife's infidelities.
"We were already wondering what was so different about this particular case even before we received an anonymous tip telling us to look for a connection with Claire Ripley."
Hardy's jaw slowly sags open as the words sink in and he watches Tess and Dave's faces flush then pale, then become almost grey.
"No," he whispers. "Tess-"
"Hardy," Rebecca says firmly, "let Stewart finish."
Hardy subsides and Stewart continues. "It took quite a lot of digging, but we finally found that connection." He pulls out four stacks of papers and gives one stack to each of the other four people in the room. Hardy perches his glasses on his nose and peers at the information, scowling.
"It's a bit convoluted," Stewart says, "but we managed to trace five thousand pounds from Claire, to a hairdresser she was friends with, to an acquaintance of yours, Dave, and from there, to you."
Dave scoffs. "It says here you got a sworn statement from Claire herself. You're going to believe a convicted killer and a liar?"
"When it comes to this, yes, especially after it was corroborated by every link in the chain. We have sworn statements from the hairdresser and your acquaintance, and they're willing to testify. We also found over a hundred calls from Claire Ripley to a burner cell phone, and one call from that burner cell phone to Claire. That one call was made the day the pendant was found."
Dave flushes. "If it's a burner, how could you possibly claim it was mine? Your evidence won't hold up in any court!"
"We'll let a judge and jury decide that," Stewart says calmly as he stands and opens the door to two uniformed officers. Stewart puts Dave under caution while he's being handcuffed and escorts him from the room.
Hardy sits in fuming silence, a silence that deepens as his mind whirls through everything he's just learned and what it all means.
Finally, he slowly turns to the woman who had been his wife, the woman he'd once loved with all his heart, the woman he once thought he knew better than anyone else in his life, and says, softly, "Did you know?"
Tess looks at him with tear-filled eyes. "Alec..."
"Did you know?" His shout practically rattles windows and Tess flinches.
"I found out about six months later," she says, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "The case had fallen apart, Claire had disappeared, so had Lee, and you-well, we weren't exactly talking at the time."
"And it never occurred to you to report a corrupt cop?" he snarls.
"He swore it was only the once! He was desperate for the money! His ex-wife practically bled money, and he was on the verge of losing his house and-"
"Do you think I bloody care? He took a bribe, Tess, and allowed someone to steal evidence in a murder trial! And if we had known who had stolen it, we would have been able to break the case there and then! We could have gotten justice for Lisa and poor wee Pippa and Cate then not two years later! Why didn't you tell me?"
"What good would it have done? Claire was gone, so was Lee, and Ricky had been cleared! You should have told me when you started hiding Claire in some little cottage in the middle of nowhere! If you had told me that-"
"Hardy's not the one in trouble here," Rebecca says, her cold voice slicing through the tension-filled room. "He was cleared of any deliberate wrong-doing two years ago." Her voice is dry.
"Oh, and I haven't yet?" Tess says bitterly.
"There's no evidence tying you to Claire Ripley and the bribe," Rebecca says calmly, "and there's no indication that you actively tried to cover it up. Yet you failed to report a crime and you'll be expected to provide evidence in the case." She smiles thinly. "This won't surprise you, but I have to do this officially. We are dismissing you, with prejudice. Doris is outside and will escort you to Human Resources and then remove you from the premises."
Tess' eyes fill with tears as she nods and gets to her feet.
"Why, Tess?" Hardy asks suddenly. "Why did you throw everything away?"
Tess laughs bitterly. "Why'd you do it, Alec? What? You think you're the only one who'll do anything for love?"
*/*/*/*/*
Rebecca sits with him for long minutes after Tess leaves.
"Who called in the tip?" he finally asks, not really interested, but he wants something to say to break the unreal bubble he's in at the moment.
"You know I can't tell you that."
"Can you at least tell me what they said? How did they know there was a connection to Claire?"
Rebecca hums then says, "They overheard an argument which seemed to imply there was more to the theft than simple coincidence or Claire managing to luck out while she skulked round after all your investigators."
His blood turns cold. "When did the tip come in?"
Rebecca's eyes narrow and she purses her lips, then says, "Mid-September."
He curses silently, but his train of thought is interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He glances at it, sees Dottie's name and frowns as he answers.
"Yah?" he says.
"Hardy-thank God!" Dottie says, almost tripping over her words. "Ginger Delgado just left. She's drunk and just kept rambling on about how much she loved Frankie but Frankie was a horrible person and so was she, and she just kept saying she was sorry and that they had no choice."
"Awright," Hardy says soothingly. "I'm in Sandbrook right now on a different matter that I need to clear up. I'll go over to Ginger's place when that's done-"
"No! You don't understand! She's stolen my car and I think she's going to try and kill herself!"
*/*/*/*/*
Miller arrives in Sandbrook by half-two and meets Hardy at a small gas station on the outskirts of town.
"Haven't found Ginger in any of her regular haunts or any sign of the car," he says, speaking quickly while pointing in the direction he wants her to drive. He continues to brief her as they go. "The other AlphaBetties didn't have any idea where she would go. Some couldn't remember any old favourite spots she might run to, and Ginger wasn't at any of the ones they did remember. Finally got through to Archie about twenty minutes ago. They used to have a place down by the river, a clearing off the old King's Road. It's a bit tricky to find, which is why they liked it. It's the only one we haven't checked yet. The others will meet us there."
Ellie glances at him. "Worried?"
He looks out the passenger window. "The last time the river was involved, it didn't end well."
*/*/*/*/*
The sun is low in the sky when they finally find the small clearing where Archie said they used to park the cars. Dottie's car is there, parked at an angle, the driver's door gaping open, the battery long drained.
Hardy calls for back-up, giving brusque, precise directions then turns to Miller and says, "They're not far. About ten minutes, maybe less." He starts off in the direction of the river and Miller gives him an anxious look and follows.
It's quiet here in the growing dusk, the silence broken only by the crunch and crackle of branches and leaves beneath their feet and their voices as they occasionally call Ginger's name.
Hardy becomes more grim with every step, his "Ginger!" louder every time he calls it.
They're almost to the river when he calls her name again, and this time they're rewarded with what sounds like a gasp and the rustling of somebody scrambling through the underbrush. They hurry in the direction of the sounds but they're still in the trees when they hear a sharp cry followed by a loud splash and the colour drains from Hardy's face even as they begin to run.
He easily outpaces Miller, even with the trees and the treacherous terrain, and he bursts into a tiny clearing littered with empty beer and liquor bottles. His foot twists on one of the liquor bottles and he almost falls, but he manages to keep going. He pauses on the sharp embankment, and he sees it's recently fallen away, creating almost a slide that goes right into the water. He sees Ginger, floundering weakly against the current, almost in the middle of the river, and he isn't sure if she's disoriented or deliberately trying to reach the opposite shore.
It doesn't matter; he sees her go under as he's scrambling down the slope and there's a distant part of his mind that registers Miller's voice barking directions into the phone to their back-up and an even more distant part that's howling in horror.
The cold of the water cuts deep and his shoes are lost almost immediately, but Ginger's not moving very quickly and he's reached her and got her on her back, her head resting on his shoulder and above water by the time Miller joins them. She helps him support the weakly struggling woman as they inch their unbearably slow way back to shore.
Other officers arrive as they push and pull Ginger's semi-conscious body up on the slightly shallower river bank and Hardy feels rough hands yanking him from the water and unceremoniously dumping him on the ground beside the river. Hardy sees their rescuers bend over Ginger and he thankfully rolls on to his back. He lays on his back, eyes closed, shivering uncontrollably, and struggles against letting the horror out with a scream.
Could have been worse, he tells himself. At least he didn't go beneath the surface this time.
He turns his head to look at Miller, who's kneeling beside him, her teeth clattering as she shivers. Her wildly curly hair is plastered against her forehead and Hardy wants to brush it off her face but he can't seem to control his hands or arms enough to do anything other than shake.
"Hardy," she asks through chattering teeth, her dark eyes wide, "do you even know how to swim?"
He shakes his head, and closes his eyes with a sigh as two more officers rush up and wrap them both in coats.
*/*/*/*/*
They stay at the hospital long enough to shower the worst of the river mud off and to dress in borrowed clothes from the lost and found. To their relief, Ginger is going to be fine, but her blood alcohol level is dangerously high and she'll be kept in at least over-night. With luck, they'll be able to interview the next day.
Isabella meets them at Hardy's hotel with a bag filled with new clothes and other necessities Ellie had requested. To Hardy's relief, she merely hands them each their particular bag, then-to his embarrassment-pulls him in to a tight hug.
"Stay out of rivers from now on, yah?" she says as she releases him and to his surprise, she has tears in her eyes.
He ducks his head and nods, and she smiles before turning to Miller and throwing her arms round her. He doesn't hear what Isabella whispers in Miller's ear but judging from Miller's expression and embarrassed smile, it probably isn't anything he wants to hear anyway.
It seems the most natural thing in the world for Miller to stay with him. She'd left Broadchurch in such a hurry, she hadn't packed any clothes or booked her own room. Not that it matters, really. Won't be the first time they've shared a room.
Miller tells him she's going to get something to eat for the both of them, and he tells her he's going to shower with the water as hot as he can stand it because he's still wracked with occasional shivers.
It's only as the water's sluicing down him, making no impact on the chill that seems buried deep in his bones, that he wonders what his dreams will be like in the night.
He suddenly feels the heavy weight of Pippa in his arms and he slowly sinks to the floor and weeps. Behind his closed lids he sees her face, how it had looked after three days in the river, and his tears scald his skin, burning hotter than the water pounding over his bowed head.
When the tears finally slow, he whispers, "This time we weren't too late."
He opens his eyes and for one heart-stopping moment, he sees Pippa in front of him: bright-eyed and beautiful and smiling proudly...at him.
She's gone in an instant and he stays huddled beneath the streaming water for a long time afterwards.
*/*/*/*/*
He wants to stay awake. He knows he's going to have nightmares and he's worried he'll wake Miller, who needs her sleep just as much as he does. She hovers over him until he eats at least some of the food she's brought and when she shoves a cup of lukewarm tea in his hand and says, "Drink it-all of it", he complies with only token grumbling.
When he wakes, it's morning and he sleepily blinks at a smiling Miller who's already dressed.
He slowly sits up and he says, "What was in it?"
"A mild sedative. The doctor wanted you to rest. How do you feel?"
"I'm fine, Miller, although I need the loo and then tea."
She tsks and says, "Seriously, Hardy."
He throws off the covers and gets out of bed. "Seriously. I'm fine."
"Well, that's good. It's half-nine and they're bringing Ginger to the station now. She'll be ready for us whenever we get there."
"Right," he says and puts his arms round her. "How did you sleep, Miller?"
She smiles, leaning against him. "Well, it wasn't quite as weird as last time."
He rolls his eyes. "Good to know," he says, and kisses her.
*/*/*/*/*
When they walk in to the interrogation room, Ginger's sitting on a chair at the table, her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin resting on her knees. She's wearing what looks like the same frayed jeans she'd worn the first time they'd interviewed her and a dingy t-shirt. Her hair is freshly washed but uncombed and tangled. She sighs, sounding exhausted, as they take their seats across from her.
They do the preliminaries for the record, then Hardy rests his arms on the table, his hands loosely clasped together and says, "Tell us what happened to Frankie."
Ginger tilts her head back and stares at the ceiling, blinking tears from her eyes.
"God, Frankie," she whispers. "Even after all this time, she's still the centre of it all." She looks at them. "Have you ever had that? That person who somehow becomes the most important person in your life and you don't know how it happened? Everything revolves round them so much that you would literally do anything and everything for them? Frankie was like that for me. All of us, really, in one way or another. It was Frankie's world and we all just lived in it. I sometimes wondered if we only existed because she said we did."
"Sounds like a cult."
She looks at him and smiles a little bitterly at that. "The Church of Frankie. Sounds about right. We were so lost once she was gone-and we drifted apart, since. Just no way to get over what happened, I guess."
Ginger shakes her head and runs shaking hands through her tangled hair, wincing as her fingers catch in the knots.
"God, I need a drink. Could I have a drink, do you think? Something to calm me down?"
"We can give you a soft drink or coffee or tea," Hardy says, his voice kind.
"Fuck that," Ginger groans, then shifts so she can rest her head on the table.
"Oh, God, Frankie! You were supposed to look out for us!"
"Tell us what happened, Ginger," Hardy says softly.
"Frankie wanted to kill her mum," Ginger says dully, muffled a little by her arms. "Frankie told us Archie promised to do it, but he was dragging his feet, so she wanted a back-up plan, just in case he couldn't go through with it. Archie had one last chance to do it, then we were supposed to do it and make sure Archie was the only one implicated." She lifts her head and looks at them. "Frankie had no patience for traitors."
"Were all the AlphaBetties a part of this back-up plan?" Miller asks.
Ginger shakes her head. "Binky and Del were kept out of it. They were never as rash as the rest of us. Never had the nerve for breaking the rules. Frankie said she wasn't telling Archie about us, either, or he might have backed out immediately and let somebody else do his dirty work."
She pauses, her head down as she picks at the fraying hole in her jeans.
"We went out that night, just like we said. We were supposed to build an alibi. At Chumley's-it was closest to Dottie's house-we were to slip something in to Binky's and Del's drinks, get them zonked so they wouldn't know if we were together all night or not. We were supposed to pretend to be drugged too, so Archie wouldn't know we were following him to make sure he did it, or to do it ourselves if he broke and ran."
She glances at their puzzled faces. "We had no intention of doing anything to Frankie's mum, but we needed to make sure Archie couldn't do anything before we could talk some sense into Frankie." She huffs a bitter laugh. "Not that you could ever change Frankie's mind once she made it up."
She sighs, and rubs a hand over her face. "Archie had a couple shots of tequila in Chumley's, trying to get brave enough to go and do the deed, you know? Only I slipped something into his second shot. Told Frankie he'd grabbed the wrong one-and downed it before I could stop him. She was furious!"
"Why didn't you fucking stop him?"
"I didn't know, awright? I can't watch him the whole time, Frankie!"
"Oh, for God's sake! Let's get them out of here before people start to notice something's strange," Elena hissed.
Frankie growled, "Where do we take them?"
"Look, that part doesn't have to change. We take them to my place, Frankie, like we'd planned, and we'll figure the rest out from there."
Frankie glared, and Ginger knew there'd be hell to pay once they were away from other people.
But they did as Elena suggested. Frankie and Ginger took Archie, while Cora took Del and Elena took Binky.
Elena's tiny house wasn't far from Chumley's. Small, and the dark wood on the walls made it feel even smaller. Elena had only leased the place a couple weeks ago and only Ginger and Frankie had been there before. Elena hadn't had time yet to change the 'artwork' the previous tenant had painted on the walls of each room. The living room was dominated by a life-sized mural of a couple of craggy, worn old men crouched over a table, mugs of Guiness in front of them.
That one gave her the creeps the most, especially when she was drunk.
Didn't matter - they weren't real - weren't Del's dad with his big hands, or Binky's, all loud and angry and rough, or hers, for that matter, although hers-
She stopped that train of thought. Nothing to be done there. Drank himself to death a year ago, anyway-put them all out of his misery.
She was too nervous; she needed a drink and said so once they put Archie and the others in the bedroom.
"Really?" Frankie said with a raised eyebrow. "Don't you think you had enough?"
Not nearly enough, Ginger thought, not for what they had left to do tonight.
She didn't pour another one but joined the others back in the living room, her stomach tightening into a cold knot.
This wasn't going to be easy.
"We told her we weren't going to do anything to Dottie. We tried to convince her there was nothing really to gain from it all, that she wouldn't be able to dodge the blame. The truth always has a way of coming out." She laughs suddenly, high and thin and on the edge of hysteria. "Look at me right now.
"She wouldn't listen, though. Said if we were too cowardly to do it, she'd do it herself and she'd make sure we all went down for it. She was determined to do it that night-probably because Archie was leaving the next day. We needed to stop her."
"What did you do to stop her?" Hardy almost whispers, eyes intent on the woman across from him.
"We-we were in the basement by then," Ginger whispers, and buries her face in her hands. "She pushed past us, got up the stairs and we managed to catch her in the back porch. We were all yelling and screaming by then, and we were grabbing her until Cora got in front of the door. That's when it got really physical, when she started hitting Cora and tried to push her out of the way. Frankie couldn't believe we'd dare to stop her. Fuck, I need a drink!" She runs her hands through her hair again.
"What did you do, Ginger?" Miller asks gently.
"We hit her. We just wanted her to stop and she wouldn't, so we...hit her."
"What did you hit her with?"
"Whatever was handy. There were some-some-long boards, left by the previous tenant. Someone had one of those. There was a-a-a cricket bat. Must have been Elena's. She used to play." She carefully places her hands palm up on the table and flexes them, like she's remembering the feel of something in them. "I-I had a brick. I think I knocked out a couple teeth."
They panicked, and rained blow after blow on her, even after she fell to the ground, hands covering her head. There was no turning back now. If Frankie got away-went to the police-no one would believe they'd been trying to stop her. No one would believe they'd just wanted to help.
They were even more afraid she wouldn't go to the police.
Ginger suddenly claps her hands over her ears and cringes. "She screamed so loud-and she tried to get away and we were all screaming by then-and the sounds-" She doubles over, gasping for air, her hands almost squeezing her head like a vice. "It took a long time for the noises to stop," she whispers.
They wait in silence until they see her hands start to relax.
"What happened after that?" Hardy asks.
"Cora took charge. Told us to strip there in the back porch-we were all covered with blood by then-and then we took turns in the shower and got into some of Elena's clean clothes. We closed up the back porch, then stole a neighbour's car. Managed to get the others on their feet and got them to Archie's place and left them there. Dropped the car on the other side of town then caught a taxi and went back to Elena's."
"What did you do with Frankie?" Miller almost whispers.
"Took her to our spot, down by the river. Buried her there the next night. Stole another car to do it."
Ginger sighs, her hands dropping from where she was still clamping them against her ears. She relaxes and blinks at them, mildly surprised.
"Where did the journal come from? Why did you send it to Hardy?"
"Frankie hid it in her flat. I found it and the others when we helped her mum clear it out. I thought…you'd believe Archie really did do it if you knew he was willing to kill Frankie's mum."
"Why'd you keep them?"
"To remember her." Her face crumples. "I really did love her."
They watch her cry, then Hardy says, "Why did you make Archie take the blame?"
She sniffles, then says, "Cora said he may as well. If we hadn't stopped him, he really would have been a murderer. We didn't try to convince him he'd done it-he came up with that, all by himself."
They sit in silence and a relieved calm begins to spread over Ginger's face.
"Why didn't you just go to the police about Frankie?" Miller says. "Tell them what she was planning?"
"Who would have believed us?" she says. "And if Frankie had found out..." She shudders.
"What would Frankie had done, if she found out?"
Ginger's silent for long moments then says, "Cora was the last one to join the group-did anyone ever tell you that? My first real love. She joined the group when we were sixteen. But we had another 'C' until the year we turned thirteen. Callie."
Miller and Hardy exchange a puzzled glance.
"Why did she leave the group?" Hardy asks.
Ginger lowers her eyes and plucks nervously at her jeans.
"She didn't leave," she mutters, "she died. An extreme allergic reaction to something she ate."
Hardy's eyes narrow. "Accidentally?"
Ginger shrugs. "So they said."
"But you know different?" Miller asks.
"I don't know anything! But...Frankie was with her last. And she never cried. I just always wondered." She relaxes and heaves a sighs. "That's good."
"What's good?" Hardy asks.
"For the first time since it happened, I don't hear the screams."
*/*/*/*/*
They find the body exactly where Ginger said it would be. Elena's arrested that afternoon and Cora's stopped at the airport that evening as she's trying to get a flight out of the country.
There's satisfaction and sadness as they go to Dottie's house and tell her the news as kindly as possible, while cautioning her that the DNA tests still needed to be run to confirm Frankie had been found.
Dottie hears them out, tears trickling down her cheeks, and when they're finished, she wipes her eyes and blows her nose and tries to smile.
"I suppose I really was an old woman living in delusional denial," she says.
"No," Hardy says, "you were a mother who didn't know what happened to your daughter. And you were right. Archie didn't do it."
"But not because Francesca was alive."
"No. I'm sorry."
Dottie nods, wipes her nose and looks at them. "I knew you would find her."
*/*/*/*/*
They finish the last of the paperwork that night, say good-bye to Rebecca and Isabella and tiredly make their way to the front doors to start the long trip back to Broadchurch. They could stay another night, but Miller's anxious to get back to her boys, and still lurking in the back of Hardy's mind is what happened with Tess and Dave and how Daisy is dealing with it.
"I don't know about you," Miller says as they approach the front doors, "but I'm going to interview every single one of Tom's friends next week."
"Aye," he says, "I want to do the same with Daisy's."
They chuckle a little and he puts his arm round her shoulders as they walk out-
-and slam into a kaleidoscope of flashing bulbs and shouted questions and a horde of reporters swarming towards them.
"Oh, for God's sake!" Hardy shouts-and to absolutely no one's surprise, that's the picture on the front page of the local newspaper in the morning.
*/*/*/*/*
A/N: Well, folks, there are only two sections left, which might end up merged into one chapter. *cries a little* I'm going to miss writing this fic.