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Chapter Eight

Grace pulled her cardigan around her and glanced once more at the office across from hers. He was still deep in work, concentration etched on his face, his glasses slipping precariously down his nose. She knew if she left him he would work all night, probably wouldn't make it home, she also knew he would never let her go home alone. Smiling to herself and picking up her bag, she walked out purposefully into the main office.

"Night, Spence. Night, Stella," she called, casting a sneak look into his window.

They turned and waved in unison. "Goodnight, Grace."

She made it as far as the steps before she heard him behind her.

"Going somewhere?" Boyd asked, his tone laced with bemusement.

"Home."

He sighed deeply, his patience running thin at the end of a long day. "Do we have to go through this every night?"

Grace gave him a tentative smile. "Ok, I'm heading to your apartment."

"And this is going to happen how exactly?"

"As I see it you have two choices. You can give me a key and let me leave or grab your coat and take me home to bed."

Boyd failed to suppress his grin. "Really? Home to bed?"

Her face flushed pink and she rolled her eyes, realizing exactly what she may have implied. "Trust you to hear that bit."

"Are you tired?" he asked, noticing the dark circles under her eyes and the absence of the sparkle he loved so much reflecting back from them.

"Who isn't? And hungry." She vaguely remembered the toast they had shared at breakfast, lunch having slipped them by as they began the delicate process of correlating the evidence from the two bodies and she restudied the case file. Mid-afternoon Spence had broken into the snack machine, bringing them all chocolate. Other than that she had been existing on tea.

Boyd studied her face before making a decision. "Ok, I need five minutes. You can wait in my office, time me if you want to. Then we'll pick up dinner. I'll even order something with vegetables to make you happy."

"You may want to postpone dinner," Spence announced, gesturing wildly as he tossed something to Stella.

"What've you got?" Boyd asked, walking back towards the younger man.

"Grace just got an email."

"I did?" she asked, taken aback by the sudden revelation.

Boyd cringed, realizing that he had forgotten to tell her they were monitoring her mail. "We. . . I," he corrected at Spencer's cough. "Thought he might get in touch again. So anytime you get an email, or post . . ."

"Are you planning on reading my emails?" she asked, crossing her arms across her body and glaring at him. It had taken her years to become computer literate and now that she did it was practically the only way she kept in touch with her friends and her children. She didn't even want to contemplate what he would get to read if he went trawling around her inbox.

"No. Just any that . . ." He glanced at Spencer for help.

"We're flagging any that are routed through several servers or are from ISPs that seem irregular or are from unknown email accounts. Unless you have something juicy you want to . . ."

Grace only half listened to them as she glanced back into her dark office and her computer, a deep sense of foreboding washing over her. Silently, she walked back to her desk, flicking on the overhead light before settling herself before the screen.

The two men hovered in the doorway until she looked up. "Well you might as well come and read it." Ignoring the email from her daughter Grace clicked on the only other unread email. She knew it was from him the second she read 'Dearest Grace.' There was an address, and a short typed profile from her case file.

"Recognise him?" Spencer asked, reading over her shoulder.

"Yes." She rubbed her head hoping to stall the headache that was forming. "His brother buried him in the sand when he was six, left him there as the tide came up. A passer by pulled him out. He killed his brother when he was fourteen, buried him alive. His mother was found drowned and buried in a bunker on a golf course."

"The address is that of a builders yard."

"Sand!" was all Grace could say.

Boyd rubbed his forehead in a gesture mirroring hers. "Spence, you better get Eve to come with us." He leaned forward, his shoulder lightly brushing hers.

"Want to borrow my glasses?"

"No, I'm fine. Do you want to stay here?"

She nodded, contemplating her next move. "I can work up a profile. Make a few calls."

"And take a nap?"

"Yeah, like that's going to happen."

"Order in," he suggested, moving towards the door.

"Are you paying?"

"Yeah, just order enough for everyone." He turned slightly. Reheated pizza and Chinese were nothing unusual, he had just hoped for something a little more substantial.

"I'll even order enough for breakfast." She gave him a big smile and opened her drawer in search of their collection of menus.

"Anyone seen Grace?" Boyd asked, sticking his head out of his office.

When they had arrived back at the office, she had been hard at work in her office. Other than a brief update on the two bodies they had found, and a short food break around one am he hadn't seen her since. Boyd had then found himself tied up looking at the bodies of Everrett and a young woman, Grace had been taping away on her keyboard, talking to one of her peers.

Three hours on, her office was in darkness, the blinds pulled down, the door closed.

Spence pointed to her office. "Taking a nap," he yawned. He returned to calling and rudely awaking people. At four am he wasn't the most popular guy in the world and he longed for bed.

"You should go home, get a few hours sleep, shower, put on a clean shirt."

"What are you? My mother?"

"Just making an observation. Take Stella with you."

Quietly, he pushed open Grace's door and stepped inside. It took him a few minutes to adjust to the darkness, carefully not to move until he could make out the outline of her furniture and her sleeping form. She looked so peaceful that he decided against waking her. He needed her help with the second body but after ten years it could possibly wait a few more hours.

Checking the door was closed, he settled himself in her visitor's chair and studied her. If she woke up he would probably give her the fright of her life but he couldn't resist. His eyelids became heavy and he closed his eyes, intending to relax for a few moments. Without realising he drifted off to sleep.