Carly groaned. Her neck was in agony from lying in an awkward position for what felt like hours but to her intense relief she found herself able to move her arms, her wrists no longer bound although they were still painfully sore. The world however was still black and her mouth taped. It took a moment longer before she realised that she didn't have to stay that way and urgently wrenched at first the blindfold and then the tape gag. She blinked frantically, even the dim light of the room hurt her eyes, delaying her reprieve from the dark. Deliberately taking deep breaths through her mouth to slow her heartbeat she slowly began to open her eyes for long enough to take in her surroundings, not that the view lifted her spirits much. Her makeshift cell was small, made even smaller by the dozen or so large crates carelessly stacked against the walls. The walls themselves were filthy, marked with damp and mildew stains. A window, closed and no more than a foot square, was at the top of one wall but again so covered in grime that it let in little light and no air. The only other light came in through the obscured glass panel in the door. Finally having at least summoned enough strength to sit she pushed herself up to lean back against a crate and take stock of what had happened. As best she could anyway, considering that she had no idea what had happened, or why.

Rubbing her aching wrists and mulling over the possibilities while surveying the contents of the room, she saw a bucket sized dustbin with lid, something like a child might have as a wastepaper bin, topped with a roll of loo paper. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the prospect but deciding that need was greater than dignity, she tried to stand, but her body was so stiff from her forced confinement that all she could manage to do was crawl towards the bucket. Having relieved herself she crawled back to the only form of comfort, such as it was, the stained mattress. It was then she noticed the sandwiches and litre bottle of water by the side. She picked up the packet. At least they were M&S and not Tesco shit, she mused, ripping open the environmentally sustainable packaging.

-ooOoo-

Grace sat in her car, coffee in hand contemplating the day ahead. Today was the day she would take back control of her life and career and stop being his favourite victim, she would send off that completed application to HR. Having spoken to a couple of members of the team in Special Ops, she was confident of success, a 'shoe-in' she had been told. She had been appreciated there, and knew she could rely on excellent references from Meadows and Heaton, even if they weren't so forthcoming from Carter and Manson. Grace rarely thought of Neil these days, it all seemed so long ago that she had made those tentative efforts to reach out, to be more than a work colleague or even a friend. It wasn't as if he had rebuffed her, he hadn't even noticed and that was worse, leaving her hurt and isolated. She reflected that life under Manson hadn't in the end been much better than it was during Carter's regime to date. He had constantly belittled her work and questioned her judgement despite the occasional moments of connection which made each subsequent dismissal especially painful. When he announced his departure, everyone else had joked that he'd never be back, and they were right. But he froze her out, he didn't joke or reminisce with her as he did with the others. Didn't offer to stay in touch. Watching him recall episodes of hilarity with Stevie had been particularly upsetting, something about having wanted to be a magician. She realised then that she knew nothing about him. He could loosen up with the others, but not with her it seemed.

Her phone rang, shaking her from the despondency of her reverie. Glancing at the display she sighed and answered.

"Guv?"

"Well you sound full of the joys of Spring," he taunted sarcastically. "Where are you?"

"Outside Costa Coffee."

"Good, that's only around the corner. Get yourself over to Beautylicious, I'll meet you there."

-ooOoo-

"Right, you look in the back," Max ordered sharply.

"What am I looking for?"

"You are like a bloody broken record sometimes. Don't you have any initiative any more, Grace? I want you look for anything that seems out of place, not as if it should be … er … somewhere like this," he waved a hand, suddenly awkward as if he had only just realised where he was.

Grace had to hold in a little smile of satisfaction, it was a long time since she had seen him look quite so uncomfortable. Clearly he wasn't the type to head into a beauty salon for a quick facial. Or maybe he was, maybe his secret was the back, sack and crack, as Mickey might put it. "Like what? Maybe you should come and look with me," she couldn't resist acting a bit dumb, it didn't seem to matter what he thought anymore, and forcing him to dig himself deeper gave her a lift.

"Er … no, I'm going to get the CCTV and check out the diary and … er … things here. Anyway, you'll know better than me what goes on back there."

Grace wondered if that was what passed for a compliment, albeit a typically 'Carter' misogynistic one.

Without bothering to watch Grace disappear into the mysterious and slightly frightening hinterland of the salon, Max turned his attention to the reception area. Just as Georgie had indicated, the machine and discs for the CCTV were held inside an unlocked cabinet at the reception desk. He hit the button to eject the current disc and then rummaged around in the cabinet, pulling out various boxes, all unmarked. "Amateurs," he muttered derisively. He hadn't expected any system of storing the discs from a bunch of airhead manicurists, but to not even label any of them smacked of ignorant stupidity. Still, while the latest was no doubt the most important, the others needed to be at least skimmed through for potential information and he had no trouble in deciding on whom to inflict that mind numbingly dull job.

A key scratching at the lock drew his attention upwards and to the door. Hidden from sight behind the desk, the woman was clearly surprised when his head popped up into view.

"What the hell are you doing?" she exclaimed, staring at him then jerkily looking around the salon reception for other signs of life. "Who are you?"

"DI Max Carter," he flashed his warrant card at her without rising, "who are you?"

"Where's Carly?" she demanded, deliberately ignoring his question.

Max sat back into the swivel chair and studied the woman. She was not unlike the photographs he had seen of Carly, big perfectly styled hair, except glossy brunette where Carly was bright blonde. Her lips were possibly too large for the petit shape of her face and her eyes heavily made up with black liner and dark shadow. Her look was way too much for the heat of high summer when everyone else was longing for freshness. In all, he thought, she bore a startling resemblance to some sort of big eyed, pouty fish. But, having come to that conclusion, his eyes wandered down the length of her body, or rather down the lack of length. She couldn't have been much more than five foot two out of her heels, which must have approached four inches. Yet the breasts that rose like over stuffed cushions from the straining buttons of her pink button down dress uniform and the legs that flowed from beneath, the last button on the uniform just slightly too high and allowing a sneaky flash of thigh as she moved, made him almost forget the less unappealing features of her face. He could fancy her though, if he had to, he could. In the past, he would. Her artifice would have numbed his mind while her sluttishness would have excited his cock. It did now, but not much, certainly not enough. He had found quite some time ago that this artificial look no longer worked for him. He wanted the real richness of a woman, unafraid of her own body, unafraid to be naked of clothes, make-up and whatever else she could find to hide behind. He had come to realise that if she could do that, then he wouldn't need to hide behind the false wall of his own making.

"That's what we'd like to know," finally giving her an answer. "I'll ask again, who are you?" This time the girl looked less defensive although still with some suspicion.

"Jessa Bennett. I work here. I manage the place for Carly. Look, what's happened to her?"

"When did you last see her?"

"Yesterday," Jessa walked towards Max, her buttons straining further with each step, the lowest threatening to pop free and reveal even more thigh that he was currently enjoying. Max didn't even try to keep his eyes on hers. This was the type of woman who liked to be admired, wanted it, needed male approval to make up for her own lack of self-worth. Max chose not to deny her wish, he wasn't in the habit of attempting to cure strangers of their emotional problems. His eyes lazily appraised the sway of her hips and the neatness of her waist, cinched in by the wide elasticated belt. He knew immediately that she was attracted to him, could see it in her eyes and in the way she coquettishly dipped her chin so that even in his sitting position she was looking down at him through her lashes. He raised his eyebrows as a gesture for her to carry on. "Yesterday, just after four o'clock. She said she had a headache and was going home to rest up before heading out."

"Where was she going?"

Jessa furrowed her brow for a moment, or at least tried to. In his head, Max heard Millie's voice exclaiming 'Botox', although he still didn't know what that really meant despite her attempts at explanation. He really wasn't all that interested.

"Come to think of it, I don't know. And that's odd."

"Why?"

"Because she always tells us where she is going. It's like …"

"Like what?" Max prompted.

"It's kind of like she wants us to know she hangs out at the best places, meets the really cool people."

"Like who?"

"Footballers mainly. A few DJs, maybe a banker if she was heading up west." Jessa dumped her bag on the higher section of the reception desk and leant down closer to Max. "Except, she's not so successful these days, not as young as she was, too old for those boys," she added bitchily, her voice little more than a conspiratorial whisper.

"I see," Max commented, as if he completely understood.

"Yeah," she straightened but stayed close enough to Max that it would have taken nothing for him to reach up and slide a hand inside her thigh. "Those boys want someone younger," she was clearly referring to herself, "someone more natural." Max nearly spluttered with astonishment at the woman's delusion.

"Right," he hoped she wouldn't notice his own incredulity, but she was admiring herself in the mirror behind him, running her fingers through her long hair in what she clearly meant to be a seductive manner. "So you don't know who she might have been meeting?"

"No,"

"Friends?"

"Well, there's us," she waved a hand at the salon, "the girls here," she explained when he appeared none the wiser. However, he was no less confused by her explanation in the light of her previous catty remarks although he decided not to pursue in opening that can of worms. Still leaning back in the chair he noticed that she appeared to have edged even closer to him, her thigh now a mere cat's whisker from his, her bare leg completely within his reach. Instead, he tapped a finger on the armrest of the chair and watched as she unconsciously ground back against the desk beside him in response to his rhythm.

"What about her car? Was it here when you left?"

"No idea," she was a little breathless now, perhaps a slight sheen of perspiration in the deep dark valley between her breasts. "I don't go out that way. The back door was locked, like always. Don't know who might be out there, watching for one of us to leave, it's creepy. Shit, is that what's happened to Carly?" With doe eyes she looked down at Max, begging him to keep her safe. Without waiting for his response she leant downagain, this time to touch his thigh. "Is there someone out there, waiting-"

"Guv?" called Grace as she returned to the reception, "I can't find anything back there that looks suspicious ... oh!" She stopped suddenly in her tracks as she took in the sight of Max being mauled by a young woman, and his rather smug expression of enjoyment. "Sorry if I'm interrupting something," she muttered in disgust, peeling off her purple gloves.

"This is Jessa, Grace. She's been very er … helpful."

Grace eyed the pair of them disdainfully. "I can see that," embarrassment heating her cheeks at his utter disregard for propriety, for not considering that she might find his method of information gathering offensive and inappropriate.

"Well, Jessa," he smiled at the woman, extracting himself from beneath her, carefully avoiding any more physical contact, "thank you. If there's anything else you think of or hear, make sure you let me know," he placed his card on the desk. She picked it up immediately without letting her eyes leave him, her expression one of wide eyed vulnerability, until she glanced down at the details while he made for the door following behind Grace.

"Hey, are you the Max who's with that red haired copper?"

Max stopped and looked back over his shoulder quizzically for a moment before turning to face her, her tone was anything but kind and it made him bristle.

"If you mean PC Brown, then yes. Why?" he asked injecting coolness into his voice.

"It's just they had a bit of a row, that's all. You might want to have a word with her." He felt the tension in his body increase. While it was one thing for him to bring Millie into the case on his terms, it was quite another for a complete stranger to implicate her in any way. Unaware of his displeasure she continued, "Carly was really pissed off when she left, like your girlfriend had one up on her." Jessa stalked towards him, her own card in hand, "and I can see why," she murmured softly close to his ear, pushing the card into his fingers, "if you ever get bored with your PC Brown, call me. You won't be disappointed."

Max fought a grimace, if the girl had been largely unappealing before, she was now wholly repellent. But she might also be useful and with that firmly in mind he returned her smile.

Grace, silently watching the exchange, felt her stomach churn with disgust. Thankful that she barely knew Millie and therefore was unlikely to be in the position of having to look her in the eye, knowing how easy this obviously was for him. She found herself pitying Millie for feeling the need to be in a relationship with such a man. Really, at times like these she was glad to be single.

As he turned away from Jessa Max caught sight of Grace's appalled expression and realised that she believed what he was doing and rolled his eyes at her in irritation before turning back to Jessa.

"Well, like I said, Miss Bennett, thank you for your help. I'll send the discs back with an officer, when we've finished with them."

"You're welcome, Max," she purred, "of course, the most important thing is Carly's safety," every word dripping with false concern.

-ooOoo-

"Thank God for that," he muttered, "thought she was going to suffocate me with her perfume."

"Maybe you shouldn't have let her get so close," Grace sniped back earning herself a sharp look from Max.

"Just doing what was necessary, Grace. You could learn from that."

Bet Millie wouldn't agree, she thought feeling sorry for a woman she hardly knew. But there was no point in voicing her opinion. He wouldn't care and she didn't want to get involved.

-ooOoo-

"Well, I didn't buy the phone for him. I bought it for me but it's too complicated for what I need and the shop wouldn't take it back … no, I'm not spoiling him … and I'm not trying to buy him either …"

The DS smiled slightly at the DCI from the doorway. He was really enjoying this exchange with his ex-wife. If she didn't know better, she might have assumed this was part of his plan all along.

"Er, Guv?" she interrupted loudly, as she knew she was meant to.

"Look, I've got to go … yeah, well I still don't see the harm in it … yeah, okay … bye."

He replaced the receiver with smug satisfaction. "What?" he looked up at his DS with all innocence. "Ex-wife baiting is one of my few pleasures in life these days. I'm getting pretty good at it, don't you think?"

"So immature," she shook her head, but her disappointment was tinged with amusement. In her opinion, the ex-wife brought it on herself. "Anyway, there're more developments on Fleischmann, if you're interested?"

"Go on."

"The daughter has been reported missing and her car has been found burnt out. Wasn't reported stolen so must have been taken after she disappeared. And," she smiled sneakily, "guess who is listed as the SIO?"

"Hmmm …" he swivelled in his chair, for dramatic effect, "I'm going to guess … Carter?"

"Such powers of deduction, Guv." He laughed, her sense of humour was coming on in leaps and bounds, although he supposed not everybody was likely to appreciate her dryness.

"If you've got anything planned for today, you'll need to cancel them. You and I are going on a trip down memory lane."