A/N: Thanks everyone for sticking with the story and a special thanks to those who take the time to comment. I hope this Wednesday in Hardy's life is not too upsetting…

CHAPTER 25

Hardy didn't find any sleep in his bed. His overly tired mind was playing an endless loop of horrifying images which didn't let him rest. Soon enough, he gave up. His eyes lingered longingly on Tess' curled up body before he tiptoed out into the hallway. He peeked into Daisy's room, catching a quick glimpse at his daughter. And just like he had sneaked into his house in the darkest night, he left his home in the grey morning hours, before his family ever knew he'd been there.

He lurked around Emily's office building until it opened, having arrived way too early for his visit. The receptionist suffered from intolerable morning grouchiness and reminded him he still wouldn't be seen before his scheduled appointment. He didn't care, he had nowhere else to be than this waiting room. Leaning back against the wall, he shut out the harsh fluorescent light, weariness tugging on his eyelids.

"You're here early." Emily's surprised voice yanked him out of his slumber. He grimaced involuntarily when his heart stuttered, limping along after being woken up suddenly. Emily's hand came up but she didn't touch him. Turning, she instructed her staff to bring him into an exam room. Hardy couldn't help himself but smirk at the scowl of the receptionist. He let them go through the motions – temperature, blood pressure, the obligatory frown when taking his heart rate – waiting patiently for Emily to come back.

When Emily entered the room, he ducked his head and apologized meekly, "I forgot to call and I'm sorry," before she could scold him.

"Alec, you promised," Emily complained disgruntled.

He dragged his hand over his face. "Please, Emily. Let it go. I had a really long day yesterday." He sounded way too exhausted for this early morning hour.

"Are you okay?" Her disgruntlement had disappeared and given way to concern. He pressed out some air between his gritted teeth.

"Would it help if I'd say, that I'm fine?" he scoffed.

"What happened?" she probed with so much kindness in her voice that he could hardly bare it. The various encounters of the past day flicked through his mind, ending on the image of Tess comforting a crying Daisy, slowly walking away from him.

"I don't wanna talk about it. It was a shit day, let's leave it at that," he sighed.

She hesitated, but didn't pursue it further. "How did the heart hold up?"

"Forgot to take my pills. Might have passed out twice," he mumbled, embarrassed over his inability to care for himself.

"Oh, Alec." The two words carried sadness mixed with more affection than he'd expected. "Was there someone with you?"

"Not when I passed out in my office," he admitted.

"Nobody found you?" she asked in disbelief.

"It was late. Should've probably gone home," came his reluctant reply. She had heard the hesitation in his voice.

"Alec, why didn't you want to go home? Have you told your wife about Thursday? Is that why?" she inquired gently.

He remained silent. The lump in his throat was growing.

"Alec?"

"I made Daisy cry yesterday," he blurted out, his voice cracking.

"You told her about the arrhythmia?" She sounded surprised.

"No, I wish," he sighed. That would have been better than what actually happened. "I was an arse to her. Blew up about something stupid and then didn't listen to her. She was so upset and her mother said she thinks I don't care about her and I…" He couldn't go on, choking up with tears.

Emily took in a sharp breath. "That's nonsense and you know it. Your wife –"

"How do you know it's nonsense? I've been so distracted by everything and not –" he spat back at her.

"Alec, you only recently found out that you have a life-threatening illness. In the wake of this you were told you'd have to change almost everything in your life," she interjected. Hardy huffed but she continued without stopping for one heartbeat. "You had an extremely traumatizing experience when you almost drowned while rescuing the dead body of a girl…" – Hardy flinched – "… that reminds you of your own daughter. Since then you've barely slept or eaten and are trying to solve a murder case on top of everything else. Of course you're distracted. You're barely holding up and quite frankly, I'm surprised you made it this far." She paused for a moment to take in another deep breath.

"I'm so worried about you," she added with a quiver in her voice. "Your family can help you, if you let them in. Instead of grinding yourself down with hiding a secret you shouldn't have, you could have their support. I'm sure whatever happened with Daisy yesterday can easily be put straight if you're honest with her and your wife. They will be understanding but they can only do that if you tell them."

Hardy listened to her quietly, tears running down his cheeks. She couldn't have been more right.

"I don't know how. I've tried," he confessed hoarsely.

Emily sighed, her face mirroring her resigned tone. "I'm going to suggest something and you can think about it. How about we set up a meeting for this afternoon with you, Daisy and your wife and I'll help you talk to them. I'll take charge and all you have to do is bring them in. Nothing else."

She had her eyes fixed on him, making Hardy feel cornered. He didn't even know why. Maybe telling his family was the last bastion of denial that he had to conquer before fully accepting how his life had changed forever.

"How am I going to make them come to your office without explaining why?" It was a feeble attempt at deflection and utterly pathetic, the last kicks of a drowning person. He shot her a desperate glance.

"Seriously?" she replied sharply, unable to hide her exasperation. He knew he was testing her patience more than was reasonable. He couldn't help himself though. She breathed deeply, and when she continued her voice was soft. "Fine. I'm going to regret this but I could come to your house in the evening. They'll be there, right?"

"Aye," he mumbled, not daring to look at her.

"I can't believe I agreed to this," she muttered in disbelief.

"Thank you," he croaked, shoulders dropping with the relief of the tension he had been feeling.

She huffed. "If I ever get a speeding ticket, you'll have to get me out of it. Who's coming with you tomorrow? I assume you haven't asked your wife." There was only the slightest hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"Dunno. My best friend can't. Thought about maybe asking my boss," Hardy said, questioning his own words.

"Your boss? You'd rather talk to him than your wife?" Surprise was written all over her face.

"He's a friend. And he knows about my heart. Caught me taking the pills. I promised him to take care of it. I'm sure he'd be fine with helping me out," Hardy explained. Then a small smile curled up his lips thinking about Emily and Baxter in the same room. "You might actually like him. He doesn't let me get away with shit."

Emily chuckled and her eyes brightened. "Can't wait to meet him. Although I still think it should be your family coming with you. We might need them there." Hardy was confused by her last words and even more so when he saw a flicker of a worried frown play over her face.

She stepped closer and felt for his pulse while listening to his heart and lungs. Hardy saw her expression change and he dreaded what she might have to say. As always, she made him lie down and put the ECG stickers on. She scrutinized the print out, frown deepening. Then she ripped the paper off the machine with more force than necessary and Hardy's bad feeling grew only stronger.

"Alec, why don't you get dressed? I want to show this to a colleague before we discuss the procedure tomorrow. I'll be right back." She smiled at him but Hardy knew her too well by now to be fooled. She was worried.

He slowly put his shirt and tie back on, fumbling with the knot as if he'd never done one before in his life. Insecure where to sit, he perched on the edge of the exam table, his fingers fidgeting with the crinkly paper. It took her a long time to return. Or maybe it only seemed like an eternity to Hardy.

She took a seat behind her desk and beckoned him to sit on the chair opposite her.

"Alec, I'm not going to beat around the bush, but be straightforward with you," she opened her talk. "I showed your ECG to one of my very experienced partners, just to be sure about what I think is the best action. My strong recommendation is to do the pacemaker tomorrow right after we do the EP studies."

She saw his worried face.

"I know this is not what we discussed but considering the rapid progression of your symptoms and the disconcerting frequency of more severe episodes, it's the most reasonable thing to do. Your heart needs to be supported by not only a pacemaker but also by an implantable defibrillator, an ICD. We can say that for sure, even without doing further testing."

"I can't do that. I haven't told Tess what's going on," he protested, panicking. "Are you sure about this?" he added, desperately ignoring the truth.

"Yes." There wasn't any doubt in her voice.

He shook his head in disbelief. She'd said it all along but it wasn't until now that he realized he had still hoped she'd be mistaken about all of this. It was an irrational thought, but something he had clung onto.

"I don't want you to do that. Not without having the results from the test. What if you're wrong?" His voice was trembling.

"Alec, please. I'm not wrong and you know it. You need this intervention and we can do it all at once, minimizing the risks," she tried to reason with him.

"Risks?" he echoed her, tensing up. She had never mentioned anything about that before. "Didn't you say pacemaker insertions are fairly harmless?" He sounded way more alarmed than he wanted to.

She looked away briefly, blushing. "I might have underestimated your disease."

"What's that supposed to mean?" His voice shifted pitch.

"Initially I thought because you had been without major symptoms for most of your life that you might have a milder variant of Long QT syndrome. Now, following you for the last few weeks, I am not so sure about that any more. I can't tell you why it took so long for it to show its true nature, but I believe the severity of the symptoms you've experienced since your first cardiac arrest indicate a more unstable form." She paused and chewed on her lip.

Hardy's mouth gaped open. He interlocked his trembling fingers and leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees. Without looking at her, he growled, "You still haven't told me the risks."

"Cardiac catheterizations have general risks, such as bleeding, infection, injury to the blood vessels, risk for blood clots to name a few. The idea of the electrophysiologic study is to trigger an arrhythmia episode under controlled fashion to see how it reacts to pacing and electrical shocks. It helps with making the diagnosis and guiding the treatment. We could do both in the same session – EP study and pacemaker placement. We don't normally do that, but I discussed it with my colleagues and they agree it might be the approach with the least risks."

Hardy was listening, his head hanging down. He'd never been as scared in his life with the exception when Tess and Daisy's lives had been on the line. He stole a quick glance at Emily and when he saw her face he realized there was something else she wanted to say.

He looked up into her sad eyes. "What else Emily?" he asked, voice low and gravelly.

"The reason why we think combining the procedure might be beneficial is your extremely high risk for anesthesia." She hesitated and shifted in her chair. Her discomfort made him feel very unsettled and he dreaded her next words. "People with Long QT syndrome don't do well with anesthetics and certain sedatives. It makes the underlying problem worse and can set their hearts off. And considering how vulnerable your heart seems to be currently, I and my colleagues are very worried about your risk to go into cardiac arrest while we are doing any of those procedures." She had leaned forward, fidgeting with her pen.

Hardy stared at her dainty fingers that were clicking the top of the pen repeatedly. He'd never seen her that nervous. It frightened him more than anything she'd told him.

"Are you telling me I could very well not survive the procedure?" he asked, holding his breath.

She hesitated, then said with a gentle voice that didn't help to take the harshness out of the words, "Yes, Alec. You have a very high risk of suffering a fatal attack during the procedure. We think that if we have the equipment in place for the EP studies we'd stand a better chance to rescue you if needed during the actual pacemaker placement. But it's not a guarantee that we can control the abnormal heart beat, especially at the beginning of the procedure when you'd be the most vulnerable."

Hardy ran his fingers through his hair and sucked air in through his nose. Then he said, voice heavy with his Scottish accent, "So you're telling me I might die tomorrow?"

She nodded in silence.

"I'm not doing it," he blurted out. All he could think of was Daisy and how he had made her cry. She didn't even know that he was ill. What if he didn't come home without them ever having had a chance to talk?

"Alec, if you don't do it, you will most definitely die. Your heart is so strained at this point, I don't think it could handle another serious episode. We might not be able to bring you back like we did last time when your heart stopped. And considering the poor condition you're in right now, I'm very worried you won't be around in a month." He'd never heard her be that serious and it sent a shiver down his spine.

He shook his head, hands kneading his thighs. "Emily, I can't do it. Not without finishing the case and talking to my family. What if I…" He couldn't bring himself to express his fears.

"I think you can't wait any longer. Every day that passes your chances of surviving the procedure are getting slimmer and chances of your heart having a fatal attack are rising. You've arrested someone. Let your team handle the rest. We can call your wife right now and I'll talk to her. You can tell your daughter together." She reached for the phone.

"No. Don't. I'll tell her in person. She deserves as much." He held her back, gripping her hand harder than needed.

She searched his face for a long time. "All right. You do what you think is the best thing. If you need support, you know how to get a hold of me. My offer still stands to come to your house this evening and help you with the talking." She gently pried his fingers lose from where they were still holding onto her wrist. Then she smiled reassuringly.

"Let's go over all the other things you need to know." Hardy barely heard her, his mind going blank after learning that he might die the next day.

When he left an hour later, he didn't remember much about the details of the procedure or the instructions. They'd taken blood, given him a stack of papers and sent him on his way. He rubbed the spot where they had poked him and clutched the pamphlets tightly. He had no idea how he'd tell his boss that he might not be around to see Ashworth go to prison. He had no idea how he'd tell his wife that he might not be around on the weekend. He had no idea how he'd tell his daughter that he might not be around to see her grow up. He had no idea how he'd tell himself that this might be the last time he'd feel the warm morning sun on his face.

Hardy stuffed the papers in his coat and with them the morbid thoughts and fears. He needed to focus on finishing the case. Claire was coming to give her statement and there was still the car. By the time he reached the station, he regained his usual stoic expression and nobody would have known that he might not return the next day.

To his surprise, Claire showed up by half nine. DC Swenson brought her to the interrogation room. They had offered her legal advice but again she'd declined it. As always she'd insisted on only talking to Hardy.

He walked by Tess' desk, stopped and turned. They hadn't spoken all morning.

"Claire Ripley is here. Do you want to sit with me?" he asked insecurely. He was done with Claire's games and after Tess and he had done well with Ashworth, he felt strongly about having her in the room.

She looked up, not hiding her surprise. "You want me there?" He nodded, mouth slightly open. "Don't you think she won't talk?"

He shrugged. "She might need a bit of coaxing, but if this is going to be our key witness statement I want to make sure there will be no reason for any barrister to discard it for technical reasons."

She nodded in agreement and got up. They walked over to the elevators in silence. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms while they were waiting. His eyes rested on her, taking in her soft features, her blue eyes, the way her hair was pulled back. She caught him staring and she blushed. She was standing close enough that he could smell her shampoo, the faint lavender scent that was always clinging to her. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift back to happier days of laughing together in the sun, the grass tickling his cheeks and his hands caressing her pregnant belly.

"Alec?" Her voice was soft and her warm hand cupped his cheek, wiping away a single tear. "What's going on with you?" He opened his eyes into hers and barely could pull himself together, losing himself in the blue ocean.

He sniveled and pushed off the wall. "Nothing. Just thinking about something." He swallowed. "Do you think Daisy would talk to me about what happened?" he asked hopefully.

She tilted her head and looked at him for a long time. Then she smiled. "Of course she will. You're her dad and she loves you."

He nodded, chewing his lips. He should tell her, right now, before his courage left him. The elevator came and spilled out its load of people. They stepped in and the moment was gone with the doors closing behind them.

Claire's piercing eyes didn't leave Tess for one moment as soon as they walked into the room. They sat and Tess set up the tape and went over the formalities, while Hardy took in the woman in front of him. He still wasn't sure if she could be trusted but at this point she was all he had to work with.

He moved his chair closer and perched his elbows on the table. Judging from the scowl Claire was wearing, they might have to play good-cop-bad-cop with her. He suppressed a smile. For once he'd be the good one which was usually Tess' role.

"Claire, when I met you yesterday you told me that you were not home all evening of April 14th as you had stated previously. Could you please tell us where you were that night?" he began, voice neutral.

"What is she doing here?" Claire hissed, her head gesturing to Tess.

Tess took in a deep breath, but before she could say something, he had his hand on her arm, indicating her to stay quiet.

"DS Henchard is here as it is preferred to have two officers to take an official statement like I have told you before," Hardy explained calmly. "We all have a common interest here, Claire. To gather the facts about what happened that night so that the responsible person can be brought to justice."

"I'm not going to say anything while she's here," Claire insisted, pulling her mouth into a stubborn line.

Tess was tensing up in her chair and Hardy wondered how much longer she'd be able to keep quiet. He leaned closer and relaxed his face as much as he could. Smiling, he said, "Claire, please. Be reasonable. You want to help, don't you? You liked Pippa and we should honor her memory by putting our own resentments and feelings aside and focus on what's the right thing to do."

She stared at him from behind her long bangs. Then she crossed her arms and murmured, "Fine."

Her mouth drawn into a pout, she looked away. Hardy allowed himself a small sigh and a quick glance at his wife. She looked as annoyed as Claire. Somewhere inside he marveled at the female psyche and how he would never be able to understand it.

"I'm glad we are all on the same page now." He sure hoped they were. "Can you walk us through your whereabouts for the evening of April 14th?" he resumed his questioning.

"As I said before, I came home to do Cate's hair and then went to my house."

"Did you stay home all night?" Hardy cut to the chase, getting exasperated with the back and forth.

Claire waited for a long time before she finally answered. "No."

"Where were you then?" It was like pulling teeth.

"I went out with a friend and stayed at her house," she stated reluctantly.

"When was the last time you saw your husband that night?" Hardy prompted.

"Around maybe half six or seven."

"What was he doing?"

"Taking a shower."

"Did you actually talk to him?" Hardy wished he didn't have to elicit every single detail from her.

"I told him I was going out with my friend while he was in the bathroom. He wasn't happy."

"When did you leave the house?"

"Maybe around half seven. I fixed Lee some food while he was in the shower and left before he'd finished. My friend picked me up. We had plans to go out for dinner and then maybe to a bar."

"What's your friend's name?" They would have to talk to that person to verify Claire's story.

"Why do you need to know? I don't want to drag her into this." Claire was back to being annoyed.

"I'm sorry, Claire, but the more information we have, the stronger the evidence will be. So, what's her name?" he repeated.

Claire chewed on her lower lip and stayed mute.

"Claire?" He closed in on her and raised his eyebrows. She looked at him, not at all intimidated.

"If you don't tell us then anyone could argue you're just making this up. If there is another person confirming your story, there won't be any doubt," he explained sternly.

"Her name is Marie Tilden," Claire eventually revealed after she had unsuccessfully tried to stare Hardy down.

"We'll need her address and phone number as well," Hardy added.

Claire shrugged. She didn't seem to care any more now that she'd already given up everything.

"When did you see your husband the next time?"

"On Sunday morning," she replied.

"When did you come back to your house?"

"Must've been early, maybe five or six in the morning. I stayed at my friend's for most of the night. We were having a good time," she added as way of explanation.

"Did you see your husband when you got in?" Hardy sought clarification.

"No. I went to sleep on the sofa, didn't want to wake him up. I didn't see him until we both woke up, around nine o'clock or so."

"Did you notice anything unusual when you came home? In your house or at the Gillespie's?" Hardy asked, without much hope of getting anything useful.

"No. Should I have?" She sounded surprisingly naïve.

"Claire, do you believe your husband, Lee, killed Pippa Gillespie?" Hardy questioned softly. He didn't expect an answer but he needed to ask.

Claire looked him straight in the eye. "I don't know." They stared at each other for what seemed a long time, neither one making a move.

Eventually, Tess shifted in her chair and spoke for the first time since they'd come into the room. "Claire, why did you lie to us in the first place?"

Hardy's eyes didn't leave Claire. Besides the question where Claire had been that night, this was maybe the most important thing to ask. This and why she'd changed her mind.

Claire shook her head. "That's none of your business."

"It sure is and I won't be the only person asking this question. Why did you hold back the truth and only decided now to come forth?" Tess insisted. Hardy let her take the lead, now that she'd started down that path.

Claire remained silent, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two detectives. They ended up resting on Hardy.

"Let's say I saw the wrong of my ways," she stated without much emotion. Then, still looking at Hardy, she added softly, "And maybe he's not what I need any more."

It cost Hardy a lot of effort not to squirm under her gaze. He could not afford to give away the uncomfortable feeling he had that she had won their game after all. An awkward silence ensued, until Tess cleared her throat.

"Claire, do you know what happened to Lee's car?" she asked.

Claire frowned. "His car? Why do you want to know?" There was an edge in her voice.

"Just answer the question, Claire. Do you know what happened to the car?" Hardy chimed in, wondering why she'd be so flustered about it. Again, the notion that she still wasn't telling the full truth crept up on him and left him with a wary feeling.

"He sold it," she replied shortly.

"Why?" Tess followed quickly before Hardy could even get a word in.

"Dunno. It's his car, he can do with it whatever he wants." She shrugged and pulled her lips down.

Something else popped up in Hardy's head. "Claire, who does the cleaning in your house?"

Both women looked at him in confusion. Tess tried to hide her irritation that he had cut into her line of questioning, but her raised eyebrow gave her away.

"We both do. How's that relevant?" Claire asked back.

"Can you describe your typical routine for cleaning?" Claire looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Then to his surprise, her eyes narrowed and her face became impassive before she answered.

"We are a bit compulsive. I like a clean house, no dirt behind furniture or under the rugs. You can always tell if someone is serious about cleanliness if there's dust on doors, shelves and stuff like that," she explained.

It was not the answer that Hardy expected and he couldn't help himself but think that she had figured out why he'd asked. He was sure she was lying. The question was why? He made a mental note to ask Lee the same thing. He shot a quick glance at Tess and she shook her head ever so slightly. They were done.

Claire was excused and he stayed behind with Tess.

"She's lying, Alec. Or at least not telling the full truth," Tess blurted out as soon as Claire had left.

Hardy nodded, mouth open. "I know," he sighed. He ran his fingers through his hair. She stood and he looked up at her. The harsh light in the interrogation room emphasized lines in her face she didn't have ten years ago and he didn't want to think about how he must look these days. But it didn't hide how beautiful she still was. He took her hand and swallowed hard. He had to tell her about what could happen the next day.

"Tess, I…" he trailed off, unable to articulate the unthinkable.

She tilted her head and searched his face, like she had done earlier. Then her hand came up and her fingers combed through his hair. He allowed himself to rest his head against her stomach, closing his tired eyes.

"You should talk to Daisy. Even if she's still mad at you, you deserve a chance to explain yourself." Her voice was gentle and her fingers caressed his head.

It was that moment that he realized he'd never be able to tell her. Not without support.

"Will you and Daisy be home tonight?" He lifted his face to look at her. She nodded. "Maybe we could all have dinner together, talk a bit?"

She squinted at him but didn't voice the question that was hiding in her blue eyes. "All right. I'll try digging up that friend of Claire's."

She moved away from Hardy, leaving him behind in the cold room.

The door closed and Hardy took in a deep breath, shivering in the chilly air. The cold that had seeped into his body when he pulled Pippa out of the water seemed to catch up with him and made his bones ache. He longed for the warmth of Tess' body that he hadn't felt in a long time. He slowly got up, battling his stiff joints. On the way to the elevator he sent a text message to Emily asking her if she could come to his house after all, that he needed someone to walk him through talking to his family. By the time the doors opened to let him out, she'd confirmed she could meet them at eight o'clock or later.

The CID main room was buzzing with the news that Claire Ripley had broken Ashworth's alibi. He couldn't quite share the excitement but didn't want to dampen the enthusiasm. Swenson was smiling shyly at him when he trudged past her desk. He could feel a faint heat on his cheeks. Her words from last night – 'ask for help' - echoed through his mind and he abruptly stopped. A pensive look on his face, he turned around and stepped up to her.

"What are you doing now?" he asked, leaning against her cubicle's partition. One hand was propped at his hip and the other dangled down, fingers tapping his leg.

She looked up in surprise. "Checking the latest report of the traffic division in regards to Ashworth's missing car," she replied, a question of her own resonating in the words.

"Hm." He sniffed and rubbed his tongue over his teeth.

"What is it, sir? You look like you've got something that's bugging you."

He sure did but it had nothing to do with the case. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, trying to focus on the matter at hand.

"The car… we think Ashworth got rid of it because it might link him to the murder. Let's assume for one moment Claire Ripley knows what her husband did and further more knows why he got rid of the car. What if… what if Claire Ripley knows who Ashworth sold the car to?" he thought out loud. "Could we use her to get to it? Let her help us find it?"

Swenson's face lit up. "We could put a trace on her?" she suggested excitedly.

Hardy contemplated his options. If Claire realized what they were doing, she might not cooperate any longer. On the other hand, if she could lead them to the car it could prove to be invaluable. Making a decision, he nodded, mouth open.

"Get someone on it, but someone good. She mustn't figure out that we are following her," he ordered.

"You got it, sir," Swenson happily complied, reaching for the phone.

"Swenson," he stalled her before she could make the call.

"Yes?" Her wide-eyed face turned toward him. She looked so young and Hardy felt suddenly very old.

He smiled and said for her ears only, "You're a good detective. And you've got your heart at the right place. Don't let this job change you."

She turned bright red and gaped at her boss. He patted her shoulder and walked away quickly before she could say anything in return, fighting his own embarrassment at the soppiness of his words.

Hardy was pacing in his office. The restlessness was unbearable and his already impatient general disposition was his own worst enemy. The thought of having to wait to talk to Tess and Daisy until the evening was driving him up the wall just as much as it was frightening him senseless. Again, he peeked through the blinds to see if Tess had returned but her desk was empty.

He finally had enough and decided to do something productive with his time and question Ashworth again. As Tess wasn't around, he commandeered an unwilling Dave Thompson to sit with him. It took them a long half an hour to produce the solicitor before he finally could get into the room with his suspect. He rushed through the formalities, feeling the urgency to get to ask what he had come for. He was living on borrowed time.

"Mr. Ashworth, what did you do with your car?" he opened the interview.

"What car?" Ashworth countered, making an effort to look bored.

Hardy was too riled up to play along. He leaned in to get as close as he could. "The car that you sold three days after the murder of Pippa Gillespie took place," he growled.

"I don't have –"

"Don't give me that nonsense about not owning a car," Hardy interrupted him. "You had one, you sold it – end of story. We know who you sold it to. Question is why did you get rid of it?"

Ashworth stayed mute.

"Lee?" Hardy moved even closer, raising his eyebrows.

Ashworth shook his head. "No comment."

Hardy threw his body back against the chair, pressing his lips into a thin line. He took a moment to compose himself. There was nothing during an interrogation that irked him more than those two words.

"Can you describe how you would typically clean your house?" Hardy threw at Ashworth out of the blue.

Ashworth was puzzled enough to lose his impassive face. A quick frown played over his forehead and then disappeared. "What sort of a question is that?"

"Just answer," Hardy barked at him, unable to keep his impatience at bay. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Thompson's disapproving look which annoyed him to say the least.

Ashworth shrugged. "Dunno. The usual I guess. Hoovering, washing floors, dusting, doing laundry. I don't see how that is in any way relevant."

"Who does the cleaning?" Hardy continued. It didn't sound like what Claire had told them.

"Mostly Claire, but I help." Ashworth didn't hide his confusion.

"How would you categorize your wife – picky about the cleaning or more superficial?"

Ashworth snorted and then grinned. "Claire's a slob, to be honest with you. She does what's needed and that's it. I'm a bit pickier but not a neat freak."

Hardy was pleased. He got them. It didn't prove anything, but it was yet another tiny piece in the puzzle. Now on to the meat of this interview.

"Mr. Ashworth, previously you stated that you and your wife, Claire, were together all night on April 14th, the night Pippa died and Lisa disappeared. Is that correct?"

Lee nodded silently.

"For the tape, Mr. Ashworth nodded in affirmation," Hardy stated. Then he moved forward, clasping his hands together and fixing his eyes on Ashworth.

"Your wife made an official statement testifying that she was out all evening and did not see you since around 6:30 P.M. that night until the next morning around 9 A.M. Do you have anything to say about this?" Hardy's tone of voice resonated with the gravity of the question.

Ashworth paled and his large frame tensed up. Hardy felt oddly pleased that his body wasn't the only one that gave his emotions away. Ashworth's solicitor pulled his client closer and whispered something into his ear. Ashworth didn't seem to listen. He leaned in until his face was close to Hardy's.

"She's lying," he said with conviction.

"Is she? I don't think so." Hardy retorted softly. He didn't blink while they were staring each other down.

Ashworth was the first to look away and Hardy had his confirmation that Claire hadn't lied. Or at least told part of the truth. He leaned back in his chair and waited to see if Ashworth was going to say anything else. He didn't.

"Mr. Ashworth, one more time, did you kill Pippa Gillespie?"

"No, I did not." He was quick to reply with a tremor in his voice.

"I don't believe you. I think you killed her and Lisa –"

"I did not lay a hand on Lisa," Ashworth interjected adamantly.

Hardy once again was surprised how much more animated he was when it came to denying any involvement with Lisa's fate. Under different circumstances he might have considered believing him.

"You can keep rebutting the claims made against you as much as you like, Mr. Ashworth. The fact remains we have evidence to prove the contrary and that you have no alibi for that night. If I were you, I'd have a serious talk with your solicitor about your options."

Ashworth glared at him but didn't say anything. Hardy knew they had reached a stalemate. Which was probably a good thing as his tingling hands reminded him of his own personal battle he was fighting.

"If you reconsider your statement, you know how to get a hold of us. Interview terminated at 11:37 A.M."

Hardy was quick to get to his feet and left the room before anyone else could. His heart was pounding in his neck and by the time he reached the safety of his office, he could barely stand up straight, let alone move around. He managed to swallow his pills and collapsed onto the sofa, willing his body to calm down. He draped his arm over his burning eyes, letting all the frightening sensations of his heart failing wash over him.

He wasn't sure if he'd passed out or simply had drifted off to sleep, but when he came to, scared and alone, he knew it was time to talk to Baxter. He couldn't put it off any longer. His boss deserved to know that his SIO wasn't going to be able to finish the case. But more importantly, his friend deserved a goodbye.

A/N: I hope there wasn't too much medical stuff during Alec's conversation with Emily but I would like for things to make sense as much as possible and that needs a bit of explanation now and then. And I did try to balance it out with some feels and a healthy dose of angst (well, maybe unhealthy dose but I've warned people in advance, I have a tendency for melodrama and I'm taking full responsibility for what is to come).