A light tapping on the office door woke Sally. The result of her call last night to Lestrade was that he had offered her the use of the camp bed and blankets he kept in a cupboard, a throwback to the days when he and his wife were still together and fighting.
The door cracked open a fraction.
"Are you decent?" Lestrade sounded tired. "I've brought you coffee."
"Yes Sir," She scrambled out of the blankets and started to fold them. "What time is it?"
"It's early, not quite 6am." The grey haired detective pushed into the office with a cup in each hand. "Did you sleep okay?"
"I did eventually thanks, and thanks for letting me sleep here."
Lestrade sat at his desk, sipped his coffee then shook his head.
"No problem Sal, you were scared and I can't say I blame you. Initial forensic evidence shows your old school friend's neck was expertly broken by someone using their bare hands." He watched as tears welled up in her eyes.
"Were you two close?"
"Not really, not since she started working for the Government, but every month or so, work permitting, we'd meet for lunch, or coffee…" Sally's voice cracked, and she sat down and cried.
And Greg wondered how to tell her that her good friend had gone bad.