For Feebee - your wish is my command ...

Two heads bowed together outside the interview room. One hand on the arm of another. "We did the best we could, Grace. You know that."

"Hmm. I doubt Max will agree."

"Well, he hasn't a leg to stand on if he doesn't. I'll back you up."

Neil's words were kind, but it didn't make Grace feel any better. She'd been determined to drag the truth out of David Austin but hadn't delivered. She wanted to kick something, or someone, but that would be too far out of character, even in her current state of mind. Yet her irritation at failing in the interview room was tempered by the bond that seemed to be developing with Neil. She wondered if she was imagining it, but his attention was invariably fixed on her when they were in the same room, and she was sure that Suzie had noticed as well from her sour expression at no longer being his sole source of confidence.

Emboldened, she smiled wryly and leant in a fraction closer. "Are you promising to be my knight in shining-" but was interrupted by the sullen expression of her immediate superior bearing down on them.

-oo-

Max looked around the briefing room. Expectant faces, and worried faces, stared back at him. He sighed. It had been a long day during which he had run the gamut of euphoria at David Austin's arrest to the despair of not being any closer to finding the two missing women. Neil and Grace had done their best just as had Tommy and Suzie, piling on layer after layer of emotional blackmail, threatening worst case scenarios, to get him to talk. Yet, no matter how much pressure was applied, or how it was applied, had made any difference. Austin had given up all he was prepared to and that left the investigating team facing a very solid brick wall. The temptation to go in and smash Austin's head into that brick wall was immense, but as both Jo and Neil had pointed out, his gut reaction was unlikely to be any more fruitful than standard police practice.

"Public appeal? Get the press involved?"

Max appeared to mull over Mickey's suggestion but really he had no intention of allowing Barsukov the pleasure of thinking they were on the rails and having to resort to such desperate measures. Better to let him wonder what Austin might be saying while in custody. And Max had no doubt that Barsukov would know by now that his foot soldier was in custody.

"Maybe, but not yet," replied Max, outwardly non-committal. "Austin is still the key to this. The CPS has agreed to charge him with the abduction of Carly Fleischmann and GBH on the strength of the forensic and CCTV evidence."

"So, we charge him and let him sweat it out in the cells for a bit longer before he goes to court in the morning?"

"Yeah. And hope that Barsukov panics and makes a mistake."

"Bit of a long shot, isn't it?" asked Neil, deliberately provoking..

"What else do we have?" Max snapped back, losing his cool for a moment and letting his true concern show through. He felt the eyes of the room on him, all feasting on his involuntary loss of control, proving he was human after all. He rubbed at his forehead, gathering himself together. "We still can't pull in Barsukov, but we do know that he must be using someone else in addition to Austin to hold Carly and Sondra. Mickey, talk to Lesley again. Find out who has been coming and going at the club, who she hasn't seen for a while. Anything that is out of the usual."

"Sure," agreed Mickey.

"Suzie, I want you to track down every known associate of Barsukov and any deals involving Drobyshev Holdings. Any link that may give us some new addresses."

Suzie nodded her compliance, resigning herself to another evening at home, at work, with the cat for company. Where was this fun she was supposed to be having? A sharp dig in the ribs from her right reminded her. "I'll give you a hand with that if you like," whispered in her ear making her cheeks burn.

"As for the rest of you," Max's gaze swung around the room, "there's more CCTV footage to go through. I want the route of that van found. Use the ANPR and widen the area of search." He felt the room groan quietly at the tedium of such work. Watching endless hours of nothing in search of something was mind-numbing, panning for gold for hours after hour, but it was often where that golden nugget was found to bring new light to a case. Ignoring the muffled reaction, he checked his watch. "Right, we've got a couple more hours left today. I'll sign off overtime for anyone who wants it."

Neil raised his eyebrows in surprise at Max's easy attitude towards overtime. He had always had to fight Meadows for extra resource. Max evidently had a rather more different relationship with his superior. His surprise turned to an inward smile at the spark of his own juvenile jealously. After all, this wasn't a playground, even if it felt like it sometimes.

-oo-

"Oh! Hi, Tara. It's Max."

"Is there any news? Has that man told you where Mum is?" The desperate hope in her voice stabbed at him. Even more so because he had called Millie's mobile to talk to her directly. It couldn't have been clearer that she was deliberately avoiding him.

"I'm sorry. No. He's scared and is refusing to tell us anything. He will be charged with Carly's abduction, we have enough evidence for that but our enquiries are still on-going. We are following up every possible lead." He paused. "We won't give up until we've found Sondra and Carly, Tara."

"I don't care about Carly!" snapped Tara, unusually vehement. "She's never been anything but a spoilt little bitch and it's her fucking father that-" the diatribe faded as Max heard a mild scuffle taking place on the other end of the line. He hoped it was Millie taking over.

"Hey, Max, it's Guy. Tara's a bit upset right now, I know you'll understand. "

Max's heart plummeted at the male Australian twang. Idiot, he told himself. "Yeah," was all he could manage to mumble into the handset.

"Look, I'd pass you over to Millie but er, I'm not er sure where she is right now. I'll ask her to call you, okay?"

Max sensed Guy's awkwardness. He guessed that Millie was standing right next to Guy, probably chewing her lip, anxiously watching her sister's boyfriend. He could picture it so vividly that he was almost there with them. Probably in the kitchen, gathered by the granite topped central island with its elegant flower arrangements and bowl of fruit. "Yeah, okay," he hesitated for a moment, "er, Guy?"

"Yes, mate?"

Tell her I love her, he wanted to say. "Tell her that I'll be here at the station until quite late tonight," was what he actually said.

"Sure," replied Guy, somehow conveying in just that one word Max's real message to his fiancée.

-ooOoo-

The flat was in near darkness when he walked in, the sun having set behind the apartment building. He double locked the door behind him with a tired sigh. There was no point in leaving it unlocked for Millie. She wouldn't be coming. Dropping his keys into the small painted china bowl on the counter top, he headed straight for the fridge, opening the door and letting the interior light spill out into the empty room. Another evening, another beer. Something made him turn round though. A sniff, perhaps a sob. Impossible to tell, but he suddenly realised that he wasn't alone.

She was sitting in the leather armchair, bolt upright, staring at the wall. Surprised attacked him and the bottle very nearly slipped from his grasp. He placed the beer on the counter, just in case he wasn't so lucky a second time.

"Millie?" She didn't answer, but her head jerked ever so slightly towards him. He took it to be an encouraging sign. "Millie, what are you doing here?"

"Couldn't stay there anymore," she answered mechanically.

"But how did you get back here? We left your car here yesterday."

"I took Tara's."

Max spun back round to the window and glance quickly out at the car park, as if he didn't believe her. Sure enough, Tara's tiny Smart car was parked to the side in a visitor space. "You drove here? Alone?"

"Yes."

"But ... are you mad? What the hell did you think you were doing? There is someone out there who has abducted your Mother and Carly! Hasn't it occurred to you that that someone might try to take you as well?" Millie eyed him coldly only infuriating him the more. "I put two officers outside the house, why the hell didn't they tell me you'd left?" His voice rose angrily with every word.

"I told them that I'd already spoken to you," she answered, smugly pleased with herself for having out manoeuvred him, at least on this occasion.

"So if something had happened, it might have been hours before anyone knew!" he shook his head in disbelief. "You should know better than to make yourself an easy target."

"Should I? And just when did you begin credit me with that level of common sense?" she spat back sarcastically.

"Don't be so ridiculous," he blustered.

"Nothing between the ears-"

"Oh for God's sake, when are you going to stop using that against me?" He turned back to his beer and yanked open a drawer to reach in for a bottle opener, then forcing off the top with barely contained aggression.

Millie rose from the sofa. This wasn't going as she had anticipated, not that she really had formulated a plan. It had become unbearable at her family home during the course of the day. Her father couldn't look at her, her sister had her boyfriend for comfort and although they were both kind, she felt so alone. Despite his actions and his attitude, she only wanted to be with Max, to find a way though what was going on and face it together. Not that she understood why. Especially now with him being like this. Right now all she wanted to do now was forget. She'd thought about sinking herself into a bottle of wine, maybe even with the other half of last night's little pill for good measure. She stared at his back, willing him to turn round and take back his anger. But he didn't and there was nothing else she wanted to say. Silently she turned and with bare feet on the cool wood floor, padded into their bedroom.

The tears were threatening again. She'd fought them off for over twenty-four hours but if she wasn't careful, if she didn't find some distraction, they would break through. An idea began to take hold. She wanted to forget, she wanted to make him make her forget. It was the very least he could do. Slowly, Millie slid aside the wardrobe door and reached into the very back of one of the bottom drawers, rummaging around for what she wanted. Finding it beneath a range of unfavoured and ill-fitting underwear that she really ought to throw away but never did, her fingers slid across the tissue-wrapped package and drew out the object of her search. She had never had the courage to wear it before, Max had always been disparaging of women who tried too hard with their fake tans and inflated hair and breasts, but from what Grace said yesterday it seemed that perhaps he was only hiding a secret liking for the sluttish look. Maybe what he really wanted was a Jessa Bennett. After all, there was something about the woman that horribly reminded Millie of Katya, his first love, obsession, whatever she was.

Before she could change her mind Millie shed every item of clothing. The plain white shirt and jeans, together with the functional pale bra and knickers hit the floor and instead she poured the sheer black silk slip dress over her head and down her naked body, her hands smoothing the delicate fabric over the contours of her breasts and hips. Turning back to the mirror, her reflection was astonishing. Never before had she worn anything like it and had only bought the barely there outfit during an alcohol-fuelled party organised by her best friend Becksy in a rather exclusive sex shop near Covent Garden. At the time, and while it had been displayed on a model, it had seemed the least outrageous option in the boudoir-esque shop, but now in the wholesome safety of their bedroom it felt incendiary. She adjusted the straps, lowering the neckline slightly to reveal a little more cleavage and straightened the provocatively high hem line on her thighs. She pondered on whether to add the accompanying thong, but dismissed the thought. Why bother with it? Yet there was something lacking in the image staring back at her. While the body was all it should be, the face was drawn and pale. Quickly she set to work creating a different Millie with the various tools given to her with instructions over the years by Becksy. Dark eyeliner and smoky coloured powder, foundation to give warmth to her skin and from the depths of her make-up bag a lipstick in the richest of plum shades. Finally, a different woman looked back at her in the mirror. She blotted her lips and leant into reapply a second coat, for luck.

He must have stared out of the kitchen window for a minute, maybe two before deciding that they couldn't go on like this for much longer. It was beginning to enter his mind that perhaps she had a point and even if she didn't, then he could at least pretend that she did for the sake of making up. Perhaps this was a lesson in relationships. But it wasn't a lesson he could learn on an empty stomach and half a bottle of lager. The fridge offered him little in the way of instant food save a bowl of microwave rice, not a favourite but it would do in the circumstances. Having slammed it into the microwave and needing something to fill his head other than the thought of impending grovelling, he leant across to the iPod, still in its docking station from a couple of days earlier. Paul Weller was only halfway through a selection of his greatest hits and, accompanied by the whirring moan of the microwave, complaining desperately of missing the object of his desire. And Max missed Millie. Really missed her. She had withdrawn her affection for little more than a day but it was long enough for a sort of cold desolation to set in. As the microwave pinged its completion, he leant in towards the counter, arms braced, hands gripping the cold granite. With a frustrated growl he pushed back and ran a hand through his hair. Food would have to wait after all.