"Mr Smith, you are a paedophile. Two young children have been molested in the space of a week and you live not a hundred yards from the park where it happened. Forgive us if we're not being overly sensitive towards your civil liberties."

Frank glared at the man sat across from him in the interview room. Smith was pushing sixty and the epitome of the dirty old man. Just looking at him made his skin crawl. If he had to put money on who might be responsible for the attacks on Sally and Jodie, he would have been front runner.

"That doesn't mean I have to tell you anything," Smith replied, sitting back in his chair, "especially when I haven't done anything."

"So, tell us where you were when these attacks took place," Christina asked. "If you've got alibis, let us check them out."

"I was at home, on my own."

"So, nobody to verify your whereabouts then," Frank said. "What a pity."

"Look, I haven't been in trouble since I got out of jail three years ago. I keep my nose clean, keep my head down and live my life. I don't cause any trouble for anybody."

"Well, it's admirable that you can live your life, Malcolm. I wonder if the same can be said for the ten-year-old girl you raped."

"I don't have to listen to this…"

"Yes, you do! Unless you can convince us that you didn't have anything to do with these attacks, you're our prime suspect and I can keep you here as long as I like," Frank said.

"You can't keep me beyond the PACE deadline," Smith said. "I know my rights. You either have to charge me or let me go."

"Unless there is evidence that would suggest an extension of the deadline would be appropriate, which I can imagine there would be in this situation. So…" Frank sat back in his chair. "Are you going to help us out here or are you going to waste everybody's time?"

"He didn't do it," Christina said as they watched Smith being led back to custody twenty minutes later. "Don't ask me to explain why I think that, but I do. He's not our bloke."

"No, I agree with you," Frank replied. "But if it's not him, who is it? The other two sex offenders' alibis checked out for both attacks."

"Could be somebody new, just starting out on their career of sexual offending. I mean, touching kids up is the first rung on the ladder, isn't it?" She leaned back against the corridor wall. "Maybe we should talk to Sally again, see if she's remembered anything else that might help us."

"I suppose it's worth a shot. I'll get Viv to go back over there. According to her parents, Jodie's still too traumatised to speak about what happened."

"Poor kid. Something like this can scar you for life."

"Yeah…did Tosh get anywhere with the CCTV?"

"I think he managed to pull some from the street nearby, but it wasn't great quality and didn't show anything in particular," she replied as they made their way back up the stairs. "Unless we can get a better description, or a proper eye-witness, it seems like we're out of luck."

"Someone must have seen something. That park's busy at the best of times. I can't believe that not one person saw Sally or Jodie talking to a strange man, someone that didn't belong there."

"Well, uniform are going back over the house to house; maybe that'll throw something else up."

"We can but hope." He paused at the swing doors, touching her arm briefly and drawing her into one side. "So, what time are you moving in then?"

"I'm due to clock off at six, but it'll depend on what's happening with the investigation, I suppose. I was going to nip over to Newton Street and just take my stuff over to the flat as soon as I could. I packed everything up last night."

"You clock off at six, as agreed. I can square it with the DCI. Then give me a ring once you're in."

"So, you can come round and do what, exactly?" she smiled.

"I'll give you three guesses," he replied, just as Kim swept around the corner. "Oh Ma'am, we've interviewed Malcolm Smith."

"And?"

"Well, he wasn't particularly cooperative, but we don't think he's our man."

"Based on what?"

He hated the way Kim looked at him sometimes, as though she was trying to catch him out or, at the very least, make it clear she didn't trust his judgment. "Based on our collective experience, Ma'am, and gut instinct."

"But not based on any actual evidence. Does he have alibis for the times of the attacks?"

"No, but…"

"Then I suggest you keep him in the frame until you can conclusively rule him out. The last thing we want is for another attack to take place and the press to find out we had a prime suspect that we let go because of 'gut instinct.'"

She swept down the corridor and he felt his blood boil. "She really gets my goat that one."

"I suppose she's right," Christina replied. "Other than gut instinct, what else do we have to say it's not him?"

"Gut instinct counts for a lot in this job, and in life," he reminded her. "You know it's not him and I know it's not him."

"Yes, but…"

"Let's see what other evidence we've got and then we can make an informed decision whether we need to hold onto him or not. You shouldn't just change your mind on what you think's right just because Madam plants the seed of doubt."

"That's not what I'm doing," she replied. "But Reid's right; we'd get crucified if we let Smith go and it turned out to be him all along. I don't want another attack on my conscience."

For all he loved her, he couldn't help but think that she was a typical female officer, ruled by her heart not her head and all too in awe of a woman in a position of power. Well, the longer she stuck with him, the sooner he would disavow her of any notion that the sex of the person in charge made any difference. Besides, the way Sun Hill was going, Reid wouldn't be there long anyway. She didn't exactly fit in. "All right," he said diplomatically, "we've got a few hours left on the deadline, so let's see what else there is before we kick Mr Smith back out into the filth." She smiled and he felt his heart turn over. How he longed to just grab her and kiss her right then and there. That would certainly raise a few eyebrows. Sense won out however and, besides, he was hoping he might hear something soon about the Flying Squad which would make things a million times easier all round. Best not to let the cat out the bag if it wasn't necessary.

XXXX

"I'll be sorry to see you go," Ronnie said, as she lugged her suitcase down the stairs and into the foyer. "It feels like you only just arrived."

"Well, it has been a month," Christina said. "I think it's time to move on."

"Some folk stay here for years."

"Yes, well…" she couldn't help but feel thankful that she didn't fall into that category. The idea of spending the better part of her thirties at Newton Street filled her with a slight sense of despair. "Thanks for fitting me in at such short notice."

"No problem. Frank's an old friend, happy to help." He looked at her searchingly, clearly wondering if she was now going to divulge the reason why her DI was so willing to give up his New Year's Day to help her find accommodation, not that she had any intention of telling.

"Well, thanks," she said, pushing open the door and pulling her suitcase down the steps and across the carpark to where she had left her car. Frank had been true to his word, sorting it with the DCI to allow her to leave despite the fact that enquiries remained ongoing, and they still hadn't conclusively ruled Smith out. As she put her case into the car and climbed into the driver's seat, she felt a frisson of excitement at the fact that she would soon be in her new flat. The drive was pleasant, despite the evening traffic, and she turned the radio up and sang along as she made the short journey to Ruthvin Road. Half an hour after leaving Newton Street, she was finally standing in the first place she could call hers and hers alone.

She was bursting to call Frank, but sense prevailed, and she began unpacking the bits and pieces that she had and rearranging the furniture to suit herself. She had bought some new bedlinen too, nothing fancy or suggestive, just nice and fresh to mark a new beginning. As she started to life her clothes out of the suitcase, she found her wedding picture wedged in between some skirts. She had never put it on display at Newton Street, preferring to leave it languishing under the bed and, as she looked at it now, she couldn't help but feel a cloud of sadness descend over her good mood. She remembered her wedding day as though it was yesterday, remembered feeling so happy and emotional and gazing at Stewart, unable to believe that he was her husband. A pang of guilt struck her, and she sat down on the bed, willing it away. She had done the right thing in leaving him; she had to believe that. Despite his apparent return to sobriety, she knew that too much damage had been done to them as a couple and, yet, if she was being honest, a small part of her couldn't help but wonder if she should have given him one more chance.

As she hung her clothes up, however, the feeling of a new start came back to her, and her mood lifted again. Task completed; she made a quick journey to the corner shop to stock up on groceries before finally lifting the phone.

He answered on the second ring. "Burnside."

Her heart leapt at the sound of his voice. "It's me."

"About time."

"Sorry, I got a bit carried away sorting out the place and I didn't want to appear too desperate."

"Oh yeah, desperate for what?"

"Desperate to see you."

"Well, I doubt you're any more desperate than I am. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Are you hungry?"

"Starving, but don't worry about that. Let's get the important bit done first."

She waited like a teenager on heat, flitting around the flat straightening bits here and there, as though it was the first time they had ever been together. Of course, in a sense, it was given that it was her first night in her new place, the first step on the road to her future. He was true to his word, knocking on the door almost exactly twenty minutes later, barely giving her time to close it behind him before he took her in his arms.

"Don't you want the grand tour first?" she laughed.

"Of course, but I reckon the bedroom's the best place to start, don't you?" he replied, his mouth hot against her neck. She moved backwards, guiding him along the corridor and through the door to the bedroom where they wasted no time in divesting each other of their clothes and sinking down into the bed.

There was an urgency to their lovemaking that she hadn't been expecting, more on her part than on his. She hadn't realised quite how much she had been craving him and she came easily within minutes of him putting his hands on her.

"Someone's keen," he observed, sinking inside her and pulling her legs around his waist.

"Sorry…" she breathed.

"You don't have to apologise," he said, lowering his weight down on her, his mouth finding her neck again. "You definitely do not have to apologise for having an orgasm with me." He moved slowly inside her at first, then picked up speed, his hips moving relentlessly against hers, and she held him close to her, encouraged him to his own ending, all the while feeling that she had, in fact, made the right choice. She couldn't remember the last time sex with Stewart had felt like this. "Christ…" he gasped, eventually rolling over onto his back beside her. "That was good, but then it always is with you."

"Honeymoon period, or so I'm led to believe. It'll wear off eventually, then it'll just be boring, mundane sex."

"I doubt sex with you could ever be boring or mundane."

"Oh, I don't know," she laughed. "I'm sure you'll get tired of me eventually."

He rolled onto his side and looked down at her, "Never. Why would you say that?"

She shrugged, the memory of her conversation with Stewart earlier that day coming back into her mind. She had resolved to herself that she wouldn't tell him about it and yet, as close as they were, it somehow seemed wrong to keep him in the dark, especially as it would likely come out at some point. Lying to him wasn't something she wanted to do, even if she had lied to Stewart. "There's something I should probably tell you." He raised his eyebrows at her. "Stewart came into the station this morning. He was sober and…he told me he'd been sober for over a fortnight now; he said he'd been to AA and…well…he just wanted to ask me if I was really sure about the divorce."

His jaw tightened. "And what did you say?"

"That I was."

"Good."

"He asked me again if there was someone else and I said no. I don't know if that was the right thing to do or not."

"I thought you said you were going to tell him."

"I did and I will but…he caught me off guard and…" she shook her head. "I feel a bit guilty at the fact that I'm here with you after I told him there was no-one…"

"And if you had told him today, what do you think he would have done?"

"I don't know. Got drunk maybe? Reported us?"

"Exactly, so by lying you did all of us a favour. If he's serious about giving up the drink, then good for him. I'd say it was a shame that he was a bit late, but then I'd be lying. Us being together and him being sober would be a win all round, don't you think?"

"Yes."

"Exactly." He paused. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I suppose I thought you might be angry."

"Well I might have questioned your judgment in speaking to him again after what happened the last time but you've made it clear that I need to let you work all of this out with him without my help so..." he paused again. "There's something I should probably tell you too."

She frowned, "What is it?"

"That bloke Tommy that I had a drink with the other night. He's an old mate of mine from way back. Anyway, he told me about a vacancy that's coming up on the Flying Squad. It's a DI position, but there's scope for advancement, certainly more than there is at Sun Hill at the moment."

For a moment, she wasn't sure of the point of the conversation and then the magnitude of what he was saying hit her square in the chest. "You mean, you would leave Sun Hill?"

"For you, yes."

"I…"

"Well, you've left your husband and your home, I suppose it seems only fair that I sacrifice something too."

"But you love it at Sun Hill."

"I love you more."

She felt her eyes fill with tears. It was always the little things, just those moments when they were together when he would say or do something that made her realise perhaps what had been missing from her marriage for all those years. Stewart would never have given up his place on the squad for her, not in a million years.

"Bloody hell, don't cry," he said, giving her a squeeze. "It's supposed to be a good thing. If we're not at the same nick, they can't do anything to us. There can't be any suggestion of impropriety or abuse of position of trust and all that bollocks. We'll be able to do what we like."

"I would never ask you to…"

"You didn't ask, did you? This is my decision, my choice. I just need to wait to hear back about it but I can't see why I wouldn't get it."

To others it might have seemed like arrogance and, perhaps at one time, it would have seemed like that to her too, but knowing him now as she did, she knew it was something altogether different. "And to think," she said, "many moons ago I thought if I made sergeant, I would get to leave Sun Hill myself and never have to see you again."

"I thought you took the exam for advancement, better money…"

"Well, yes those were obviously factors but…I'd be lying if I said that our relationship at the time didn't have something to do with it."

He kissed her gently, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Everything happens for a reason, doesn't it?" she searched his face, unsure what answer she was really looking for.

"Stewart getting shot and becoming an alcoholic; did that all happen for a reason?"

"Well, it led me to you."

He kissed her again, "Exactly."

3 February

He hadn't intended to spend the night, but her emotion at what he had told her about his career plans had made him soft and completely reluctant to leave her. They had ordered an Indian, eaten it at her new kitchen table then sat on her new couch watching television before retiring to bed like normal couples. She hadn't asked him to leave at any point and so he assumed she had no difficulty with him staying over. He had lain for a while in the bed beside her, watching her sleep before finally dropping off himself, waking suddenly to find the bed empty and the sound of a radio coming from the kitchen.

"Breakfast?" she asked upon seeing him in the doorway. "I was going to do eggs on toast."

"Sounds perfect." His stomach growled at the thought, and he watched as she moved around the kitchen putting the various elements of the dish together before presenting him with it. In some respects, it reminded him of the very early days of his marriage though he knew his feelings for Christina far outweighed those he'd had for Julie.

"I never asked you last night about the investigation," she said, sitting down opposite him. "The deadline on Smith must have run out."

"Yeah, it did, and we had nothing to hold him on," he replied. "But I stuck Tosh and Jim in a car outside his place overnight just in case he did anything that might be considered suspicious."

"Those poor parents must be going out of their minds," she mused. "I mean, to know that someone had done that to your child, and you didn't know who…it doesn't bear thinking about. You'd never want to let them out of your sight."

"It's a tough one," he paused. "We've never really discussed kids, have we."

"What, you mean having them? You and me?"

"Well, no I wasn't exactly meaning…"

"No, sorry…" her face flushed. "That was daft. Of course you didn't mean you and me."

He paused, watching as she drank her tea and concentrated on her food, and thought for the first time in a long time how he might feel about becoming a father. "Julie wanted kids. I wasn't so sure at the time. Wise decision now in hindsight. I can't imagine having to still see her all the time."

"Were you not sure about kids full stop or about kids with her?"

"I wasn't sure about kids full stop. Too focused on my career. Still am, I suppose. You?"

"I had a miscarriage in 1985 and Stewart and I separated for a while."

He paused, somewhat taken aback, "You separated because you had a miscarriage?"

"I suppose neither of us really knew how to deal with it. It hadn't been planned so we were still a bit in shock about the whole thing." She paused. "Then I had a scare in 1989, but thankfully it was just that."

"1989?"

She nodded. "It was just after I failed the sergeants' exam. Tommy Fulton had given us information on Victor McDonald knocking over the City bank and we were going out on the job…"

"I remember," he interrupted her, leaning forwards across the table. "You never told me you thought you were pregnant."

"Well, I was going to, but the timing was all wrong and, well, by the time we got back to the nick it had become patently obvious that I wasn't pregnant and that was that. Much like you feel, I suppose both times were blessings in disguise. Anyway, I went on the pill after the second one, only I didn't tell Stewart. He kept bringing the topic up and I suppose something inside me knew that I didn't want to have a child with him. Call it intuition, I don't know."

"You sat with me in that car before that raid went down, knowing that you might be pregnant, and you didn't say anything?"

"Frank, it was two years ago, long before you and I…"

"I'm not talking about that," he said, angered at her seeming refusal to recognise the stupidity of her actions. "I'm talking about the fact that we went in there and arrested McDonald and his cronies, hands on, and you might have been pregnant! Do you know how much of a breach of protocol that is?"

"Come on…"

"What if something had happened to you during the raid? What if you'd been injured and lost the baby as a result?"

"I wasn't pregnant!"

"No, but you might have been, and you should have told me so that I could have taken the appropriate steps to keep you out of harm's way!"

She blinked. "Where is this coming from? It was two years ago and, quite frankly, would you have cared?"

He stared at her, "Would I have cared? What sort of a question is that?"

"Well, our relationship at that time wasn't exactly at its best, as we discussed last night…"

"And so, because of that you think I wouldn't have cared about your welfare if you'd been pregnant?"

She got to her feet and lifted her plate over to the sink, turning her back on him, "I can't believe we're arguing about this. It has nothing to do with anything! Nothing to do with where we are now!"

He stood too and moved around the table to stand behind her. "Promise me you would tell me if you thought you were pregnant."

She turned back around to face him, "Well of course I would now, given that it would be yours."

His stomach flipped over, the very content of the conversation giving him chills. Children had never figured in his life, for good reason, but he couldn't help but think back to Christmas Day, when he had watched Pat and her husband with the kids, the loud, rambunctious home they had, how devoted she was to them, even when they were more deserving of the back of her hand, and how he had felt about one day having a proper family of his own.

"I think we're getting a bit ahead of ourselves though, don't you?"

Her voice was quieter this time, bringing him back from the depths of his own thoughts and, somewhat embarrassed to even be having them, he turned away. "Yeah, of course. Anyway, I should probably make a move; see if anything's turned up overnight on the case. You're due in at nine?"

"Yes."

"Right then." He left the kitchen and retrieved his jacket from where he had left it discarded next to the couch the previous night. Pulling it on, he made for the front door.

"Frank?" He paused and turned back to face her, framed as she was in the doorway, her mouth opening as if to say something more and then closing again. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah," he turned away again. "Later."