Hi, next up for you. I'm still working on this story, all feedback is welcome! Review, review, review!

Chapter 4

"Fuck." He said it to himself, but Pat stood up.

"What?"

"She left home an hour and a half ago. Fuck!" He started dialling Wardle.

"Cormoron..."

"I don't need your statement 'til twelve." No hello.

"Wardle..." but he wasn't listening, shouting to someone in his office

"Wardle... Eric!" He shouted.

"What the fuck Strike?"

"I need your help. Robin..."

"What?"

"Robin... she left home at half eight, she didn't turn up to the office."

"Bit early..."

"She's been sent a leg before Wardle."

"Yup fair enough. I'll meet you... Strike?"

Without thinking, Strike had turned to grab pen and paper, forgetting he had one leg. He stumbled, fell through the air, managed to stop his face whacking off the desk by grabbing the chair. Pat appeared beside him, using surprising strength to help him move back to the couch. He put the phone back to his ear, panting slightly, "need you to pick me up Wardle, you'll see when you get here. Yeah, see you soon." He hung up the phone, tossing it to the side. "Fuck, that hurt."

"Are you ok?" Pat had sat facing him. She looked worried, he smiled, wiping his hand on his face, noticing the pain.

"Yeah. I forgot I didn't have it on... thank you."

" 'Course. What did he say?"

"Picking me up. Her mum... that's who I spoke to, she's gonna keep calling her. But..." Pause, "She would've called me by now."

"Are you sure you didn't do anything last night..."

"I'm sure. Her parents... it didn't go well. But it wasn't me." He sounded defensive, but Pat was looking at him with narrowed eyes. "They don't want her working with me."

"Why?" She was looking at him expectedly.

"They think I'm dangerous."

"Dangerous? To who? Robin?" He liked the disbelief in her voice, she didn't share the thought.

"Yeah. Tall, wide and with the potential to overpower her and... do whatever I want to her."

"Fuck off." He laughed. A genuine, loud laugh. It made him feel good. "They said that?"

"I was in the bathroom. But I heard them."

"They really said that? About you?" She really couldn't believe him.

"You saying you don't..."

"Of course not! Well..." she was becoming flushed, "maybe, my first day, I was a bit hesitant. But... by the end of the day I knew what kind of person you were. You'd never do anything... like that."

"Really? Had me all figured out did you?"

"God no. Still don't, which is unusual for me. There's something about Robin I can't quite place either. That's why I like it here," she looked away as her face went red, "but I know you care about her. You would protect her. You would never hurt her. Or me." She smiled at him. "Let me see your hand."

The pain in his hand had intensified, he moved it over to her without thinking. "Not broken. Gonna bruise though. You're going to look a right state."

oOo

"Wardle's here." Pat stood up without being asked, climbing down the stairs to let him in. Strike was still on the couch, hand wrapped in bandage. He didn't even try to get up. Wardle came in, chatting to Pat over his shoulder. When he saw Strike, his face fell.

"Shit man."

"Nice to see you too. Want a..." he had grabbed the crutches to get up, Wardle stopping him.

"No, I'm fine. But fuck, look at your face. Was that really Anderson's men?"

"Yeah. That's what happens when you throw someone into a situation without background..."

"I got it. Noted." His eyes drifted down to his legs.

"Kicked my knee out from me. Once... that was it."

"Shit. Sorry. I shouldn't've..."

"No. No worries. We have more pressing matters."

"When did you last see her?" Wardle seemed happy that the happenings of yesterday had been dealt with, taking out his pen and pad.

"I saw her last night. But her parents are staying with her, and her mother said she left at half eight."

"I'll say it again... bit early to sound the alarm. What has she been working on?"

"Her main case closed yesterday," Pat had sat at her desk, but wasn't doing any work, "she said the guy wasn't very happy with the result."

"Name?"

"I can find it."

"Thanks. Right, I'll get someone to phone her parents, meet them at the station, we'll go down now. You gonna manage?"

"Can't get the leg on, it'll take a while to get down the stairs."

"Why don't you and I get that name and Cormoron can make a start," Pat and Strike locked eyes. He was suddenly very grateful. She was keeping Wardle busy, while he went down the stairs on his bum.

"Yeah thanks Pat, see you down there Eric."

oOo

He was standing having a smoke when Wardle appeared.

"Sorry about that. She's not very efficient is she?"

"Who Pat?" Strike's eyebrows furrowed. Pat was very efficient.

"Yeah... dropping things, muddling them up. I'd rethink your hiring technique."

"She's rattled with Robin being gone." His tone was gruff. He knew what Pat was doing, keeping Eric busy to give Strike time. He suddenly wanted to defend her. "Normally..."

"Yeah, take your word for it. Let's go... the cars in the next street, will you..."

"I'll manage. Slowly."

They chatted as they walked, about football, the weather. The pace was slower than normal, but not by much. They got to the car, Wardle waiting beside him.

"I'll manage."

"I know, I'll put the crutches in the back." He didn't make a big deal about it, took the crutches once Strike was in like it was normal. Something he did every day. Looking behind him, Strike saw the back seat was piled with... junk. The best word for it. Wardle opened the boot, putting the crutches in, coming around to the driver's side. "You good?"

"Yeah, thanks for picking me up. I could've got the tube but the hassle, the staring..."

"Say no more mate. My cousin uses a wheelchair, won't say I get it but, I get it."

They drove in silence.

"What do you think about me Eric?"

"As in...? Would I name you as party host? Probably not." They laughed. "But would I call you with half an hour's notice to help me with a case? Like yesterday? Of course. Why?"

"No reason."