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"You ready, Kingston?"

Looking up from her desk, she saw her partner Abe Horton standing there, a file in his hand, an expectant look on his face. "Am I ever," agreed Allie. Swivelling on her chair, she eased herself upright gingerly. Pressing a hand to the small of her back momentarily, she righted her balance and stood before her partner nine months pregnant.

Horton slapped the folder against her shoulder and she snatched it into her grasp easily. "Let's do it."

Entering the interview room, Knox Oakeshott looked up from his seat with a snort of derision. "Shouldn't you be in a kitchen barefoot somewhere?"

"Bite me," retorted Allie. Dropping the file down on the desk between them, she planted her hands on the table and sat in the chair. Horton took up position leaning against the wall.

Opening up the file, she flicked the pages up nonchalantly. "So are you going to tell us what happened?" she asked, looking down at the paper. "Or are we going to spend our afternoon here?" She flipped the file closed and shrugged her shoulders. "Trust me, I've got nothing better to do. Except maybe give birth, but hey I'm sure that's an experience you'd like to share."

Behind the glass in the observation room, Waverley winced. "Crude, but effective," she commented to the head of Priority, noticing the anger that flashed across the face of their prime suspect, the fiancée of the victim, brutally murdered businesswoman Joelene Mundy.

"Get lost," snapped Oakeshott. "I ain't going to tell you anything."

Allie raised her eyebrow. "We shall see about that." She turned to her partner then. "Grab me a tea and a newspaper will you?" she said in a deceptively sweet tone. "This is going to take a while."

As Detective Kingston slowly propped her legs up on the other chair in the room and a uniform brought in the requested beverage and reading material, Detective Abercrombie Horton slipped into the observation room, a satisfied look on his face. "And now we wait."

"Let us hope that she knows what she is doing," said Waverley pointedly.

Sergeant Dominic Fitzgibbons nodded toward the screen. "I'll place my bets that he breaks first."

The commander didn't look convinced as her phone rang. "I will be down there in a moment Detective Levitt." Hanging up the call, she turned to Horton and FitzGibbons. "I'll be in Homicide. Call me if anything changes."

"Ma'am," agreed FitzGibbons.

Meanwhile in the interview room, Allie had started a running commentary on baby's names. The newspaper open on the birth, death and notices page, she shook her head. "Look at the names these days," she tut-tutted. "Cooper, Ella, Isabella, another Cooper, Jack, Sophie, Jack, Jack, Emily. Ah..."

Folding the newspaper along the crease, she crossed her arms, resting them on her swollen abdomen as she turned her head to Oakeshott. "My sister-in-law's a teacher, and just the other day I was talking with her. Did you know that in her class, she has an Aiden spelt as Eaydan, a Kayden with a K and a Caden with a C, three Lily's, two Cooper's, two Madison's – one spelt as Madysyn? And then there's even more wierd spellings. I mean come on. Who spells Leah as Leighyah?" She laughed to herself. "Seriously? And let's not even get into the business of all those other kids with those invented names. And Apple? Why would you saddle a poor kid with the name of a fruit?"

Allie could sense Oakeshott growing increasingly frustrated with her, though he tried his best to cover it, his jaw clenching. She carried on. "Well this baby," – she highlighted just which baby it was by bracketing her considerable belly – "is going to have to be named at some point isn't it? Hmm. I reckon if I avoid the top ten list for the last ten years, I'll do okay."

Resting her elbow on the table, she propped up her chin. "Guess I should hurry up and make a decision shouldn't I?" She didn't expect an answer from the tense man opposite her. "I mean, poof, this baby's out in a week or two. Then a week or two after that, I'll be back into shape and then I'll be right back into the workforce. The boss is a bitch, but hey at least I'll be out there catching the scum that litters our streets."

She knew he read between the lines. Scum like you.

"I'm lucky my man is such a good househusband. He does a fabulous job of raising the kids." Allie spared a glance to the clock and made a big deal of noting the later hour. "My, look at the time. I must get someone to ring my husband. I'm not going to make it home for dinner. Wouldn't want his meal to go to waste."

It is now that Oakeshott, his hands firmly fisted, reacts for the first time. "You should be," he snarled, banging his hands on the table.

Allie played as if his actions had no effect on her. "I'm sorry," said the detective deceptively sweetly. "Did you say something?"

"It's your job to be at home caring for the kids and the house," he roared. "If she'd agreed to that, then none of this would have happened."

Allie removed her legs from the chair and turned to face the angry man full on. "What happened, Mr Oakeshott?" she asked calmly.

He was shaking his head, looking down at his clenched fists. "I killed her. I killed the mother of my children."

Allie edged back slightly. "If you'll excuse me just a moment and hold that thought, I think my partner will also be interested in hearing this."

After plying a confession from the semi-remorseful man, who now seemed to have slid into a state of shock, Allie rose from her chair and headed for the door. She slipped from the interview room with the appearance of control, but the instant the door shut behind her, she was a woman on a mission.

"Out of my way," she ordered as she headed for the toilets, one hand on her swollen abdomen, the other making shifting gestures to the people heading her way. She spotted someone waiting in line, but the instant the door opened, she pushed right on by. "Sorry lady, but I've been waiting longer."

Blessedly relieved – and certain that her bladder would not have been able to cope much longer and so thankful that Knox Oakeshott had cracked when he did – she sought out her partner and boss. "Well done," said FitzGibbons briefly. "Another one for the books. I want that report on my desk before you leave."

With a mutual chorus of "Yes Sir", Horton and Allie returned to their desk. "Are you really going to come back to work two weeks after you have your baby?" asked Horton curiously as Allie brought up the report template, already tapping in details, intent on getting this done as soon as possible.

Allie looked at him blankly for a moment then recalled her previous comment. "Gods no," she dismissed. "I'm taking at least six months off. You won't see me back here before the new year."

Arriving home, Allie stepped through the front door to find Nick already on the couch with a beer in hand and Mia bouncing on the bean bag. "Hey gorgeous," she said as her daughter lunged toward her.

"Hey hon," said Nick, turning his face.

"Hello to you too," grinned Allie. Nick laughed wryly, tilting his face up to take her kiss over the back of the couch.

Mia had by this time reached her mother and was patting her belly with great enthusiasm. "Gently does it squirt," Allie chastised as she grabbed her daughter's hand. With one last – much gentler – pat to greet her unborn sibling (the sibling who, in Mia's eyes, needed to arrive much sooner rather than later) the six and a half year old inched back, took a running sprint and then vaulted over the back of the couch, narrowly missing hitting her father. Landing on the bean bag, she gestured for Allie to hurry up and sit down. "You got home in time for the start."

Allie happily dumped her things on the floor before she rounded the couch. Easing down into the cushions, she moaned softly as her muscles relaxed as she rested in that exact spot where the couch arm met the couch back. Her pathetic attempt at lifting her legs were greatly assisted when Nick reached down and lifteds them up onto his lap for her. Her boots off, she rested her head against her propped up arm as the list of players rolled onto the screen. Her swollen ankles being rubbed by her attentive husband, Allie watched the Australian cricket team run out onto the ground to field first in the special Twenty20 match.

Mia was beside herself with each whack of a 4, slam of a 6, thunk of wicket bails flying and the whoosh of a flying catch. She took each event in the fast paced game as a momentous occasion and would jump up and flop down onto her bean bag.

There was also her attempt at a running commentary, frequently interspersed by corrections by Nick.

Bob – as they'd taken to calling the coming baby – didn't share her sister's love of the game, and instead assaulted their mother's internal organs every time the cricket wasn't on. Allie had vaguely noticed the regularity of kicks, but when the time came for the teams to switch on the field, she noticed that Baby of Buchanan was actually kicking on cue the instant the cricket went off the screen and the ads began.

She shared an amused look with Nick when she told him, their moment of mutual understanding spoilt when she yawned. The tiredness didn't abate. When the last ball of the game was smashed for an unlikely six and the All Stars won, Nick patted Allie's upper thigh as Mia shouted out loud. With no response, both Buchanans turned and discovered that Allie was sound asleep.

It really was such a common occurrence these days.

Next chapter:

Waiting.