The background to this chapter comes from the series 8 episode 'Somebody Special.' I don't own any dialogue from that episode.

PART THREE

3 March 1992

Six months later

"So, what do you think?"

"I think it looks like a beauty salon."

"Very funny. I meant, what do you think about what I've suggested? Do you think you can do it?"

"Well, getting my nails done will be a very difficult test of my abilities as a police officer, Sarge, but I reckon I could just about manage it."

Ted blew smoke out of the open car window and fixed her with a steely gaze. "I'm not joking around here, Chris."

"Yeah, I get that," Christina replied. "Your snout says that Mickey Owen has moved into the drugs trade and that he's dealing out of that salon. What I don't get is why you don't just raid the place on the basis of what this snout has said."

"She's scared and with good cause."

"Is it Roxanne? Is that who your snout is?" Ted said nothing, which gave her all the answers she needed. "So, you don't want to risk her taking a beating again."

"Would you?"

"No," she replied, well aware how he had felt when it had happened, "but at the end of the day, Mickey's surely going to figure out where the information came from in the first place, isn't he? Unless you think he's going to buy that a police officer just happened to become suspicious whilst having her nails done."

"Will you do it, or won't you?"

"Yes, I'll do it, seeing as you asked so nicely. When do you want to set it up?"

"Today. This afternoon."

"Oh, well that's handy seeing as I'm meant to be going out with the girls this evening after the DCI's farewell do. Give me a chance to tart myself up a bit."

Ted looked at her sideways. "Off to attract the local talent, are we?"

"No, at least I'm not. I can't say anything for the others though. But, anyway, I would have thought you would have asked Viv to do a job like this. Beauty salons are much more up her street than they are mine."

"Yes, well I would have, but there's another element to this operation that I felt merited your involvement."

"What's that then?"

"The DI can't know about it." Ted paused. "Given the current state of play, I'm assuming it won't be difficult keeping it from him."

It was her turn to pause and look out of the window at the passing traffic to avoid his gaze. Sometimes it didn't feel like six months had passed since they had gone their separate ways. Often it felt like only days, other times, years. In the first few weeks after their affair had become public knowledge, she had dragged herself out of bed every morning to face the stares and whispers of everyone else at the station. Despite warnings having been given by Reid and Monroe, people still talked, and she found that every time she walked into a room, conversations stopped. For the most part, she had learned to ignore it, kept her head down and got on with her work. As time passed, the initial chill seemed to wear off; other topics of conversation took precedence and, slowly, her relationships began to improve. Jim, Tosh and the others began speaking to her in more normal tones, whilst never seeking to acknowledge the reasoning behind their reticence and, by the time Christmas had come along, it almost felt as though things had returned to normal.

Almost, but not quite.

She was never alone with Frank, but whether that was purely coincidence or by design, she wasn't sure. He refrained from taking her out on enquiries with him and any time he spoke to her professionally he kept his office door open. If there was an obbo, she was never in the car with him. In a social situation, in the pub for example, he kept a distance from her, and when her end of year appraisal had, somehow, fallen on a day when he was due at a meeting, Kim had conducted it instead. It made sense; gave no-one any ammunition to speculate about them or suggest that she was receiving any favourable treatment. And they were civil to one another, cordial, even occasionally engaging in the banter of the olden days. But there was a marked difference from how it had once been and even though she knew she had been the catalyst for change, she couldn't help but feel as though something was missing from her life.

She missed him.

"Why can't he know?" she asked, turning back to Ted. "Why does it have to be such a big secret?"

"Because he wouldn't approve. He thinks I'm going out on a limb trying to bring Mickey down. He doesn't understand that this is personal for me."

"So, where am I supposed to tell him I'm going to be this afternoon?"

"I don't know, out on enquiries?"

"And what happens if this ends up being a runner and we need a full-scale operation?"

"Well, I'd tell him then, of course, but right now he doesn't need to know what I'm doing. Besides, with Reid flying the nest, he'll have bigger things on his plate to worry about. Like becoming acting DCI." He looked at her. "So? Can I trust you to keep your mouth shut or not?"

"Well, I don't live in his pocket, so I reckon you're fine."

"No, you don't." He raised his eyebrows at her.

"What?"

"I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss the idea of picking up some bloke tonight. You deserve to have a bit of fun."

"Thanks, but I'm not interested."

"Oh, come on. You're thirty-one years old, in the prime of your life…"

"I've also got a soon-to-be-ex husband in jail and a reputation for sleeping with my boss."

"I bet there's thousands of blokes out there that would give their eye teeth to even get a smile from you."

"I think that might be a slight exaggeration," she laughed. "Anyway, like I said, I'm not interested. I reckon it's more important that I focus on myself right now, rather than some random bloke." The thought of another man, one she didn't know, touching her sent shivers up her spine, and not in a good way. She had no interest in making small talk, going on dates, engaging in awkward displays of affection…her romantic experience was so limited, and, in any event, there would be too many insurmountable comparisons.

Ted started the engine and pulled away from the kerb. "Are you going to take the sergeants exam this summer?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good for you. Have you told him?"

"No, not yet. I don't need to note my interest until the beginning of next month. Reid said she wanted to have a quiet word with me before she left tonight so I don't know if she might mention it, not that she hasn't a hundred times already in the last year." In an odd way, she was sorry that Kim was leaving, bound for greater things having recently attained the lofty heights of a Chief Super's post. It had certainly been different, having a woman in charge, but even though she and Frank no longer shared the closeness they once had, she could tell that he was pleased about it, pleased for the opportunity to act up in the DCI role, keen to make sure that it would become a permanent fixture. She was pleased for him too. For all he had said about knowing she could climb the ladder, she knew he had every ability to do so as well.

"A little advice, woman to woman?"

"Probably."

"Tips on how to fly as high as she has?"

"I don't know. I might have cooked my goose as far as that's concerned."

"Oh, I wouldn't think so. It was only an unofficial warning, after all. Of course, with increased rank does come increased…desirability." He looked over and winked at her. "DI to DCI, I mean." She said nothing. "Sorry, I don't mean to make light of it. I have to say I'm impressed. Six months and not so much as a glimmer of the pair of you going at it again."

"Put so eloquently, as always, Ted."

"You want my opinion on what I see?"

"Not really."

"He misses you. He's not been the same since it ended. I reckon acting up as DCI will be good for him, especially if it ends up getting made permanent. New opportunities for both of you. Can't be a bad thing."

"No," she agreed as he turned back into the station yard. "It can't. I take it you're not fussed about not being made up to acting DI then?"

"No thank you. I don't need the grief," Ted replied, pulling the car to a halt. "Things are going to be interesting for a while, I'll grant you that."

"Well," she unclipped her seatbelt. "I suppose that's one way of looking at it.

XXXX

He'd never thought the day would come. Well, that wasn't strictly true, but when rumours had abounded that Kim was going to be leaving Sun Hill, he had hardly dared hope they might be true. Finally, the biggest thorn in his side was going to be pulled firmly out and the role of acting DCI was going to stem the flow of any wound. It was the opportunity he had waited for, longer than he cared to remember. If he could crack it, show those higher up what he was made of, then there would be little question of a quick promotion to make it permanent. One more step up the career ladder. There was a lot to be said for being in the right place at the right time.

Of course, Kim still had to leave. There was still one more day to get through.

"Presumably you'd like to make the presentation, sir?" he said to Brownlow.

"Umm…. yes, yes, I suppose so. Why not? What are we giving her?"

"Oh, don't worry about that sir, it's in hand." He thought to the whip round that had been collected so far, rather paltry in his offering, but what else could the woman expect? The best part of the evening was going to be raising a glass to her, enjoying an evening of alcoholic amusement, all at the behest of getting rid of her. The thought was highly appealing.

"Frank, before you disappear to the off-licence…this promotion of Kim Reid's does have other ramifications besides a booze up in CID you know. I hope we're all ready for it. We're not going to have Ted Roach sulking again, are we?"

That was the other consequence of Kim's departure and his own elevation. Someone in CID would need to step into his shoes. Somewhat bizarrely, he hadn't been consulted on the matter, simply told that Alistair would be acting DI in his stead. Ted hadn't said much when the announcement had been made, but he had his own thoughts about what would going on in the other man's head. "Well, Ted won't hold any personal grudges sir. He knows the decisions weren't made here."

"Well, they weren't exactly not made here either, still…we don't need to disabuse him of that, do we?" Brownlow said, moving back around his desk, only serving to convince him that there was nothing short of a personal vendetta at work between the two men. "What about Greig? Are you happy with him as acting DI?"

"Well, it's a different style from mine, sir, but the pecking order's still the same, isn't it? We're all just shuffling one rung up the ladder."

"Look, I hope this doesn't mean that you don't feel the need to change, personally. DCI's a pivotal appointment, acting or otherwise. It means taking an overview, strategy, innovation, thought."

"Rest assured sir, I shall grasp the challenge with both hands."

"Yes…" Brownlow mused. "I'm sure you will. I must say, I'm pleased with how the department's been performing over the last six months. Detection and conviction rates are up, sickness absence is down and no complaints. I'd say that Kim's leaving you with a fairly tight ship."

"Absolutely sir," he replied, well able to sense what the other man was getting at. What he wanted to say, and yet couldn't, was that he was pleased there had been no repetition of the unfortunate business at the tail end of the previous summer.

As he made his way to the CID office, waylaid briefly by Alistair seeking permission to try and turn a slag from the Fairways Estate into an informer, he couldn't help thinking that it was a daily battle to keep things on an even keel. Every day he tried hard to focus on the job in hand, tried to win back the respect he knew he'd lost along the way. It hadn't been easy, the first few weeks and months everyone had been talking about him, opining on how he had abused his position of trust. He was sure many of them felt he wasn't equipped to be acting DCI and most probably thought he didn't deserve it. But the opportunity was here now, and he certainly wasn't going to squander it.

As for Christina, they maintained a professional, respectful distance from one another; colleagues, not friends, but it didn't stop the sleepless nights when he would lie alone in bed and think about her.

"Guv, do you know where Ted is?" Jim complained when he got back to his office. "Only, he said he knew a bloke that might be able to do us a deal on the booze."

"I wish you'd stop worrying about the booze, James. It's not as if we're toasting the Queen as she heads off on her merry way."

"No, I know that, but I don't want her very last impression of me to be a bad one!"

"What, in case you end up getting investigated by her at Complaints?" he shook his head. "Like, I said, don't worry about it. Besides, I'm not sure I'd trust any associate of Ted's when it comes to alcohol. Speak of the devil…"

"What have I done now?" Ted asked, coming up behind Jim.

"Jim's going about something to do with the booze for tonight," he said, glancing at Christina as she made her way back to her desk. "Where have you pair been anyway?"

"Just out," Ted said quickly. "Listen, what's this about the booze?"

As he and Jim started arguing over the arrangements, he took the opportunity to wander over to her desk and glance through her in-tray. "You sent those statements off to CPS yet about the charity shop robbery?"

"Yes, for what they were worth, which wasn't much," she replied, sitting down. "Why?"

"No reason. You got capacity for a few more enquiries then?"

"Well…"

"Good." He dropped a slip of paper onto her desk. "Melissa Gemmell, twenty-four. Held up at knifepoint last night and sexually assaulted by a man wearing a balaclava. She's pretty traumatised by all accounts. Datta got some information from her but I want you to get over to her house and see if you can get anything more. So far, there's not a lot to go on."

She looked up at him and blinked, "What, this afternoon?"

"Yes, this afternoon. Is that a problem?"

"Uh, no…no problem," she replied, glancing quickly at Ted. "I'd best go now though then, so that I'm back in time for the farewell soiree."

"Not to mention us getting ourselves all dolled up," Viv grinned from her own desk. "Takes some of us a fair bit of time these days."

"Dolled up?" he echoed, looking between them. "Something I don't know?"

"Girls' night out, Guv," Viv replied. "Me, Chris, June, Norika and Cathy are going to hit a few bars this evening, you know, let out hair down a bit."

"Oh, I see. On the prowl, are we?"

"Maybe, you never know…"

"I worry about you lot sometimes," he shook his head, his gaze sliding back to meet hers. "I hope you're going somewhere decent at any rate."

"We're starting at O'Hares,'" she replied.

"Oh, well you'll all be singing Danny Boy and The Fields of Athenry by closing time then. You want to watch those Irish, present company excluded of course."

"Right," she got to her feet and looked at Ted again. "Well, I'll go now then, make sure I give myself plenty of time."

"Fine," he replied, watching as she left the room and then fixing his own gaze on Ted. "Something I need to know about?"

"Like what?" he asked.

"What was she looking at you all funny for?"

"No idea," he shrugged, "maybe she's worried she'll be late for O'Hares' and miss me sweeping her off her feet."

"Do me a favour…" Rolling his eyes, he ventured back into his office and sat down at his desk, his mind far removed from the papers needing his attention. As far as he had gleaned, over the course of the previous six months, Christina's social life had been bordering on the slim to non-existent. She joined in if they were going to the pub as a department and he knew that she would often meet up with Viv, but this was the first time he had had wind of her doing anything more than that, of her going somewhere with the possible intention of being picked up by someone. He felt his mind suddenly wander to a place where he could see her looking as good as he knew she could, her face upturned towards some oily git who was turning on the charm, smiling at him, her hand on his leg perhaps as his hand was on her shoulder…

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head, trying to rid himself of the image, of the jealousy. If going out and meeting other men made her happy as this point in her life, then so be it. That was all he wanted for her, after all.

XXXX

Melissa Gemmell was a plain looking girl, slightly overweight and wearing baggy clothes that seemed to hide what, she could only assume, was a fairly decent figure. As she followed her into her living room, she couldn't help but think that several male officers she knew might have thought to make comment on that. She, of course, didn't.

"I'm not sure what else I can tell you," Melissa said. "I told the uniformed officer everything I could remember."

"I know it's difficult, but sometimes witnesses remember things afterwards that they didn't think of at the time," she said, taking out her notebook. "I just want to run over the events of that evening again with you, if that's all right." Melissa nodded. "So, you'd been at the cinema, is that right?"

"Yes, with some friends. We came out about ten-thirty."

"And then you started to make your way to the bus stop alone?"

"Yeah, they wanted to go out for a few drinks, but I was really tired so I said I would just head off. Stupid really."

"No, it's not stupid. You're not to blame for this. Can you remember if it was busy?"

"In the high street, yes, but then once I turned onto Finmore Avenue, it got a lot quieter."

"And why did you take that route?"

"I wanted to catch the bus on Park Road. It's a quicker journey home than if I'd taken one from the high street, and you can cut onto Park Road down the alley just off Finmore Avenue."

"So, tell me what happened."

Melissa took a breath. "I had just entered the alley when I heard this noise behind me. I stopped and turned around, but there was no-one there. So, I kept walking and the next thing I knew…" she broke off as tears filled her eyes.

"It's all right, you're doing well."

"The…uh…next thing I knew, someone grabbed me from behind and I felt…I felt something sharp at my throat." She wiped her hands across her eyes. "I just remember saying, 'please don't kill me. I'll do whatever you want, just please don't kill me.""

"Can you describe the person?"

Melissa shook her head. "They were dressed in black, black trousers, a black jacket and when he pushed me up against the wall, I saw he had a balaclava on."

"Was there anything distinguishing about him at all? His eyes maybe?"

"I think they were brown, but I can't be sure."

"Did he speak to you?"

"Only to tell me to shut up. I can still hear his voice…" she screwed her eyes shut, "but there was nothing distinct about it…I'm sorry…"

"Don't be sorry. I appreciate this is really difficult for you. Can you tell me what happened next?"

"He…uh…started pulling at my jeans. I remember thinking, 'why does he want to rape me? I'm not dressed like a slut. I'm wearing jeans and a jumper for heaven's sake…'" she shook her head again. "I just…froze. I didn't know what to do. He managed to get the top button undone and pulled the zip down. Then his hand went inside…"

"Which hand was it?"

"His right hand. The knife was in his left."

"Did you see his hands at all?"

"No, I…I don't think so. I could just feel his skin…" she shuddered. "It was rough."

"Rough?"

"Yes, like maybe he worked with his hands?" Melissa sighed heavily. "He managed to get a grip on my underwear and he…he was pulling it to one side when the girls came into the alley."

She nodded, "And did he run off at that point?"

"Yes, back into Finmore Avenue. I'd never been so pleased to see young teenagers in all my life." Melissa looked at her. "Do you think you'll be able to catch him?"

"I hope so," she said. "The fact he wore a balaclava and carried a knife suggests to me that he knew what he was doing, like he had planned it. Have you noticed anyone following you recently, or any men in your life that have made you feel uncomfortable?" Melissa shook her head. "What about boyfriends?"

"I've been single since I broke up with my boyfriend at Christmas. It wasn't him; I would have been able to tell."

"Ok…" she got to her feet. "That's been very helpful, thank you. Do you have family, someone who can support you right now?"

"My sister lives in Scotland. She's on her way down."

"Good. I'll give you my card and if you remember anything, or you just want to talk, feel free to give me a call, ok?"

"Thanks," Melissa said, taking it from her. "I feel as though I just want to run away and hide from the world right now, as though everyone's looking at me. I know that sounds ridiculous…"

"No," she said, "it doesn't. After something like this, you need all the help and support you can get."

"But I wasn't raped," Melissa looked at her.

She met the other woman's gaze, seeing so many of her own thoughts from the past reflected in it. Despite the time that had passed, and the circumstances of it all, there were still times when she could remember Ryan on top of her. "It doesn't matter," she said. "You're still a victim." Back in her car, she tried to shake off the feelings speaking to Melissa had evoked in her. Patterson's trial was due to start in a matter of weeks; the last link in the chain so to speak. Perhaps if he got what was coming to him, she would stop thinking about those nights spent undercover in his club and what might have happened to her if Frank hadn't been there.

The very thought of him sent a shiver through her; the way he had looked at her when Viv had said they were going out that night. She wondered what he had been thinking. Had he cared? Would he care if someone else showed an interest in her, even if she had no intention of acting upon any such thing? In the last six months, he had been very careful to keep any details of his private life to himself. He never joked about women anymore, never made any comment about who he might be seeing or what he might be doing. He could be celibate, or he could be sharing his bed with a different female every night.

She had no idea and part of her didn't want to know.

XXXX

"Bit hard to adjust to all this," Frank said as he sat down in Kim's chair.

"I thought you were staying in your own office," she replied, flitting around him, putting her personal possessions into boxes.

"I am. I just didn't know that our parting was going to come via promotion. Yours or mine. I thought you'd just have me shipped out sideways."

"Well, if it had come down to you and me, I would have done. I wasn't about to just disappear in a puff of smoke like Gordon Wray, I can assure you." As he got to his feet, she lifted a large stack of folders and handed them to him. "There you go. Greatness has been thrust upon us. Right, budget forecast to the end of the year, street crime initiatives, post implementation reviews and CID response to total geographic policing, dash, allocation of functional responsibilities."

He grimaced. "Dictionary?" Reaching into her drawer, she pulled on out and placed it on top of the pile. "Thank you. Oh, you're not rushing off, are you? Only the troops will want to mark your departure later."

"With a footprint on the backside in certain cases, I'm sure," Kim smiled.

"Now you're fishing for compliments." He paused as there was a knock at her door and when she called for the visitor to come in, found himself face to face with Christina.

"Oh, sorry," she said, glancing between them. "Am I interrupting?"

"No, not at all," Kim said, "We're finished, Frank, aren't we?"

"Yes Ma'am," he replied. "How did you get on with Melissa Gemmell?"

"Melissa Gemmell?" Kim asked, before Christina could respond. "Who's she?"

"Sexual assault victim, Ma'am. She was held up at knifepoint last night and some bloke put his hand down her trousers. Nasty business."

"Yeah, she's pretty shaken up," Christina agreed. "Unfortunately, given the attacker was wearing a balaclava, there isn't much to go on."

"Well, I'm sure I can trust you to run a tight operation, Frank," Kim said. "Sensitivity towards female victims being one of your strong suits."

He paused, wondering for a brief moment if she had meant the subtext that came with the response and quickly realising that she did. A glance at Christina confirmed that she too had picked up on it and she looked at him before moving her gaze quickly away. "Right then," he said. "I suppose I'd best go and familiarise myself with all of this lot."

"Good luck!" Kim called cheerily, as he closed the door behind him and headed back into his own office to dump them on his desk.

"Rather you than me," Mike said, following him inside. "I suppose we shan't be seeing much of you over the coming weeks."

"Just because I have been tasked with the heavy responsibility of overseeing this department, does not mean that I won't still be at the sharp end, Michael," he replied. "On that note, did you come in here just to regale me with your witty repartee, or did you actually want something?"

"I was thinking about that sexual assault case from last night."

"You'll go blind."

"Very funny. Something about it sounded a bit familiar, so I had a quick check back and, four months ago, there was a similar attack in Silverston Road, which is only about half a mile from Finmore Avenue. Similar MO, woman walking alone at night, man comes up behind her, with a knife and attempts to assault her."

"Balaclava?"

"The victim never saw his face. He pushed her face first into the wall and made a vague attempt to anally rape her before running off."

"And that's the only similar attack there is?"

"It's all I've found at any rate."

"Well, it might be something. Give it to Chris when she comes out of her meeting with Reid. Might be an idea for her to speak to the victim of that assault too, see if she can't connect any of the dots. See if she can fit it in this afternoon before her big night out." He had meant to say the words casually but, when they came out of his mouth, he immediately heard the slight derisory tone.

Mike clearly noticed it too, as he turned back to look at him. "Everyone's entitled to let their hair down, Guv."

"Did I say otherwise?"

"No…"

"Right then."

"Anyway, I'm pretty sure I heard Ted say that Chris was going out again this afternoon on something else."

"What else?"

"No idea," Mike shrugged, "just what I heard."

As the other man left the room, Frank felt his curiosity piqued. There had definitely been some sort of understanding between her and Ted earlier, something that they had clearly been trying to keep under the radar. For a moment, he let his mind turn to the ridiculous suggestion that there was something going on between the pair of them, then quickly pushed the thought from his mind. She wasn't Ted's type and, in any event, he was fairly sure that underneath that veneer of collegiality and work-related cooperation, she still wanted him as much as he wanted her.