Get your eagle eyes out! There's a teeny tiny hint for yet another sequel in this chapter ...

Thank you for all reviews, much appreciated!

-ooOoo-

As they approached the scene of the six-vehicle pile-up Suzie felt her hangover giving way to excitement. It had been a long time since she had found herself at the sharp end of front line policing and had forgotten how thrilling it could be to be out there pursuing a lead, getting involved, getting a result. Hopefully. Poring over spreadsheets and documents looking for the slightest traces of evidence and forging alliances with international agencies had its appeal, but didn't make her blood race. Not like this.

Tommy pulled up behind the cordon, three marked cars, two ambulances and a fire engine were already there, their occupants hard at work attending to the injured and traumatised as well as pulling apart the wreckage. One motorbike, four cars and the white van were twisted together in an unholy mess. Smoke rose from the crumpled bonnets and the bike lay between the front and rear wheels of the van which had smashed into a lamppost. Tommy quickly took stock with a practised eye. By some miracle, the motorcyclist appeared only mildly injured, albeit dazed, sitting on the kerb with a paramedic holding a pad to his knee. Several others wandered about swathed in silver blankets to stave off the shivering cold brought on by shock. But it was only the van that interested him and with a nod to Suzie, together they made their way through the chaotic melee.

"Calum? What have we got?"

"Oh, hello Tommy," Stone nodded a grimace-like greeting in Suzie's direction which she returned with a cool stare. "The driver's dead. He wasn't wearing a seatbelt and the airbags didn't work, but the passenger was wearing his belt and is on his way to St Hugh's. It was Mel that noticed," he continued breezily as he walked to the side of the van and opened the door for Tommy and Suzie to look inside at the bloody mess. "The Russian newspaper alerted her, and when she checked for ID, she found one of them carrying this," he held up a clear plastic bag containing a passport. "No idea if it is genuine, but it is Russian. The van matches the description of what we've been looking out for, fake plates of course, but when the fire crew are ready we can check the chassis number and maybe find out who it belongs to."

"Great. Have you looked in the back?" asked Suzie.

"Of course."

"And?"

"Nothing, just an old tarpaulin and some rope." Both sets of eyes sharpened in Calum's direction. "What? Do you want to see it?" But Tommy had already disappeared into the back of the van by the time Calum had finished speaking with Suzie close on his heels.

"Suzie!" he called from inside. "Suzie, looks to me like the same stuff Carly was wrapped in. I'd say we've found our kidnappers."

-ooOoo-

It took Max nearly fifteen minutes to find the nerve to bring up the subject occupying his mind more than it should in the present circumstances. "What did she say to you?"

"Who?" asked Millie absently, her mind being firmly focussed on the matter of how they would tell Georgie that his daughter had been found dead in an abandoned building.

"Grace. I saw her sitting with you earlier, outside."

"Oh her," she replied quietly. "This and that."

Max bit down on the inside of his lip. He couldn't decide if she was being intentionally evasive or genuinely distracted but he really wanted to know what Grace had said this time and what possibly consequences it might have for him. "What sort of this and that?"

Millie pondered how to answer. "She doesn't like you much, does she?"

Max shrugged. "Not part of the job to be her friend."

"No," agreed Millie, "but probably is part of the job to be supportive towards her."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She said that the reason she said what she did the other day was because she has been having a really rough time since you became DI. That you've been a complete bastard to her, her words, not mine," Millie paused for a moment before continuing. "Have you?" She studied her hands in her lap carefully, worried what her question might bring to light. It suited her to ignore certain traits of his character, most of the time anyway.

Max sat up a little straighter, not so pleased with the turn this conversation was taking. His initial reaction was to give Grace something to really despise him for but then he remembered her apology the previous day and just how much she had put into Austin's interview, even if little had come from it. "I might have been a bit hard on her from time to time," he admitted carefully. "She's a good officer, but too sentimental and it affects her judgement."

"Because she's a woman."

Thankfully the lights ahead were red and he slowed the car to a standstill. It gave Max a chance to shut his eyes for a moment and take a deep breath. "No. Not because she's a woman, she just gets too involved sometimes. Mickey does the same thing and as far as I know, he isn't a woman," the lights turned green, "and he doesn't take every word of criticism as a personal attack. Neither does Stevie for that matter and she is definitely a woman."

"So it's Grace's fault?"

Max sighed. "No, like I said, perhaps I've been too hard, on occasion. What else did she say?" he went on, feeling like he was hurtling headlong towards his own execution but unable to bring himself to a halt.

"That she was sorry for what she said and maybe you weren't so bad after all. She might have just been saying that to make me feel better though," Millie finished with a small smile.

"Probably," Max agreed with a quick glance, relieved that the worst must be over if she was trying to make a joke out of it.

The pair lapsed into silence, much to Max's relief and for a few minutes Millie shared his contentment. Yet something gnawed away at her. She was no good at keeping secrets from him and somewhat perversely she wanted him to know. "I told her ..." Millie stopped and bit down on her lower lip guiltily.

"What?" concerned suspicion entered into his voice.

She eyed him nervously, grateful that he was driving and had to keep his attention on the road ahead. "I told her that we got engaged at the weekend."

"You did what?" he exploded.

Millie gripped her seat as the car suddenly swerved to the left. "It just sort of came out. She won't tell anyone."

"Yeah, because she's so good at keeping her mouth shut," he muttered bitterly, bringing the car and himself back under control.

Millie sank back into her seat glumly. She knew this would be his reaction, so why did she tell him? Certainly not because of the 'no secrets' deal. No, she had wanted to provoke him, again. To punish him, or was that herself. Both, she decided firmly, it seemed the least worrying reason. "Sorry," she murmured.

Max sighed. "Don't be. We're all doing things, saying things that under other circumstances we probably wouldn't." With one hand still on the wheel, he reached out to rest the other on her thigh. "I did want to keep it quiet for a while, to enjoy it without everyone talking about us and what it is that you see in me. But that's all been blown out of the water anyway."

Millie covered his hand with hers, her throat constricting and making it impossible for her to say anything. This simple gesture was all she could manage. God, she was sick of crying but it was impossible not to feel emotional at just how hard he was trying to be sensitive for her benefit. Besides, there was another niggling worry that even she wasn't prepared to face today.

Reluctantly Max had to pull his hand away to hit the indicator and turn left. They had arrived at Georgie Fleischmann's house.

-oo-

Max frowned slightly, trying to remember where he had seen that gold Lexus before. Parked where Richard's Mercedes had once been and next to Roger's rather more utilitarian Toyota, it sparked a memory but annoyingly he couldn't figure out where from. Roger opened the door having already answered the intercom at the gate and let them through.

"Millie! How are you?" he asked with genuine warmth.

"I'm doing okay."

"Really?" Roger asked, peering at her a little more closely. Max watched on, they had an unusual relationship. Not exactly friends in the ordinary way, it was somehow more familial than that. From what he had seen, Roger behaved more like a Godfather towards Millie than Georgie ever had and no matter how ridiculous it might be, Max could never help feeling irritated to have Roger as another rival for her affection.

"No, not really," she admitted, "but I'm not giving in."

Roger squeezed her upper arm encouragingly, as if to say 'that's my girl'. Resenting his familiarity, Max moved in closer and gained a friendly smile from Roger in return which only served to make him feel stupid for his resentment. "So, you're here to see Georgie?"

"Yes, how's he been?" asked Max briskly, feeling the need to put the exchange on a more professional and therefore more comfortable footing.

"Pretty bad, if I'm honest. But a friend of his has just dropped in and he seems to have bucked up a bit."

"What friend?" asked Max, the memory of where he knew the car from becoming clear at the same moment that Roger replied.

"Charlie Hammond."

-oo-

"Charlie! Now this is a surprise."

Hammond looked back in surprise at the voice calling through from the darkened doorway and into the kitchen, yet again drenched in morning sunlight. Immediately, Max noted the flash of concern across his features, the slight shake of his hand holding a full cup of coffee.

"Oh! Mr Carter-" he stopped suddenly as Millie followed into his line of sight. He took a sharp breath in. "And you must be Richard's eldest girl," he continued softly, concern transforming into something more like sadness. "I haven't clapped eyes on you since you were a babe in your mother's arms." Millie tensed at the mention of her mother and Max stiffened next to her protectively. "Just like her, you are. Just like her."

Max stared at him hard in an effort to try to figure out just what had turned his usual jovial demeanour into near nervous wreckage. But it was no good, the man wouldn't take his eyes off Millie. For her part, she returned his gaze, bristling at his invasiveness. "What are you doing here, Charlie?" Max decided to abandon telepathy and return to a more trustworthy method of information gathering.

"Uh ..." Charlie blinked, his eyes flitting between Millie and Max, gathering his wits.

"What are you doing here?" repeated Max insistently.

"Well, I er ... er, felt I should er, offer Georgie a bit of support."

"Really?" replied Max sceptically. "I didn't think the two of you were exactly friends."

"We go back to before when you were born," a gravelly voice slurred from the furthest reaches of the conservatory. "Let him be. No one else has shown any kindness."

Max turned back to Roger who gave him an exasperated shrug in return at Georgie's drunken state. It wasn't yet eleven o'clock. "Has he been drinking all morning?"

"All morning and most of the night from what I can gather. I've been here since yesterday and he hasn't moved from that chair, other than to, well you know. I've tried to talk to him ..." Roger trailed off apologetically, turning his attention to Millie. She gave him an understanding smile and then after a deep breath, took a step toward the conservatory.

Max caught her arm and pulled her back to face him. "You don't need to do this. I can tell him." Millie shook her head mutely. "Well at least let me be with you when-"

"No. Thank you," she rested a hand on his where it still held her and gently lifted his fingers away, entwining them with hers briefly before pulling them away, "but I think I had better talk to him alone."

He frowned but knew there would be no dissuading her from her course of action. With a minor degree of self-loathing for what he believed to be his own inadequacy, Max let her turn and walk into the conservatory.

Empty bottles littered the floor at Georgie's feet with one, half empty, on the table at his side. "Georgie? It's me," she called out softly.

"What do you want?" he mumbled, lifting a Scotch filled glass to his lips and draining it with a well-practised tip of his head, then automatically reaching out for a refill. Millie covered the distance quickly and dragged a chair up to his side. Her stomach churned with apprehension at what she was going to tell him and she fought against recoiling from the reeking stench of alcohol on his breath.

"Georgie, please, stop for a moment." She stilled his hand holding the bottle and gently guided it back down to the table. "I have something to tell you," she began, aware that she was stalling for her own benefit. Georgie's bloodshot eyes looked down at her hand and slowly lifted to draw level with hers. He knew, she could tell, he knew. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm really sorry, but we found Carly's body this morning."

"Where?"

"In the underground car park of Portman House, on the Winnall Trading Estate."

"How?" his voice cracked. "How did you know where to find her?

"I received an anonymous text message."

"My girl," he whispered, tears falling down his cheeks, "my girl!"

Millie leant into take hold of both his hands, to share in his grief rather than let her own take over. She couldn't afford to let in the thought that her own mother might already share the same fate. She had to believe that they would find her in time.

-oo-

"What's happened?" asked Charlie watching the scene from the kitchen with Max and Roger. Max couldn't be completely sure, but there was a definite edge to Charlie's voice.

"We found Carly's body, it looks like she's been dead nearly twenty-four hours." Charlie's eyes opened wide while Max's narrowed. "We've got a potential lead," he continued airily. "The van that we believe was used to transport her body was involved in a serious accident. Just waiting to hear who it belongs to." Colour drained from Charlie's normally tanned face, leaving him grey and pallid. Max was just about to ask what was wrong when his phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket to check the screen. "Excuse me," Max muttered and turned away. "Yes Tommy?" He listened intently with a quick glance back at an increasingly anxious Hammond. "You're sure about that? No, no need. I've got it covered, I'll explain later. When can we expect forensics? Okay, yeah ... I'll see you both back at the station... one last thing, get Mickey to find out if Lesley knows either of the two men in the van will you? Thanks." He disconnected the call with a flourish and checked that Roger was in position at the door, just in case. "Well, Charlie. It seems you've got a bit of explaining to do."

"Wh- whatever do you mean, Mr Carter?" he tried to brazen out Max's question with his natural bravado, but the nervous stammer gave him away.

"What I mean, Mr Hammond, is that the van we believe was used to transport Carly and probably Sondra Brown, is registered to your company. It belongs to you."

Hammond waved a hand dismissively. "Can't be," he blustered, "must be a mistake. Fake number plates, cloning, I've heard of that happening."

"Oh no, no mistake. False plates were indeed used, but no one thought to file off the chassis number so we've tracked the vehicle that way, right back to you." The two men stared at each other in standoff while Roger maintained his position at the door, blocking Hammond's exit. Not that he seemed to be contemplating making any sudden movements. Sweat broke out on his usually cool forehead.

"Somebody must have stolen it," he grasped at straws.

"It's a possibility," conceded Max generously, "but surely someone would have reported it stolen since yesterday if that was the case."

"Well, er, one of my staff must have borrowed it," gabbled furiously.

"And how many of your staff are Russian?"

"I couldn't say, not exactly."

"I bet I can. None. So why would your van be driven by a couple of Russians who I am willing to bet will have connections to Kiril Barsukov? A man you claimed you have only a passing acquaintance with."

"This is complete nonsense! I only came here to offer some support to Georgie, but if-"

"I think we should continue this down at the station, don't you?"

"Absolutely not!"

"Up to you, Hammond. You can either come to the station with us voluntarily, or I will arrest you. Might be best to be seen to be co-operating with our enquiries, don't you? Bearing in mind you have a position as a respectable pillar of the community to maintain. Your choice."

-ooOoo-