The ground underneath her was damp and she could feel it seeping through her jeans to the skin of her flesh. In any other circumstance, she would have stood up, would have avoided the uncomfortable sensation and yet, for some reason at that moment, she welcomed it. It kept her grounded to the reality of the situation as a flurry of activity continued around her.

When the call had come through about the attack, she and Ted had sped off to the scene in time to give chase to the suspect dressed, as expected, in black and wearing a balaclava. He had taken off in haste and she had followed, quickly outrunning Ted and pursuing the man towards the railway. She had shouted at him to stop, screamed at him that she was a police officer, but he had paid her no heed. She had wanted to arrest him, wanted to stop him and had followed him when he made his way to the bridge, climbing over the side and moving precariously along the edge.

She had been poised to follow when he had jumped, the sickening crack of his body hitting the oncoming train and the resultant screech of emergency brakes seemingly etched in her memory. She had stood there, looking at the place where, seconds earlier, he had been standing and had been unable to move, unable to communicate anything until Ted had reached her and prised the radio from her fingers.

"You all right?"

She looked up to see Alistair looking down at her, his face pale and drawn in the dim light, and nodded. "Is he dead?"

"As a doornail," he replied drily. "The train driver's traumatised at any rate."

"I can imagine." She felt his hesitation and met his gaze again. "What?"

"How close were you?"

"How do you mean?"

"How close were you to him when he jumped?"

She shrugged, "Ten, twelve feet maybe…why?"

"And did you announce your presence?"

"What?"

"Did you say that you were a police officer?"

"Of course I did, multiple times."

"Could he hear you?"

She pulled herself from the ground and faced him, irritation coursing through her. "What are you suggesting?"

"I'm not suggesting anything," Alistair replied. "I'm just asking if he could hear you identifying yourself as a police officer."

"Well, I was shouting as loud as I could. Who else would he think I was?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "It just seems a bit…"

"A bit what?"

"Worrying, that's all. I mean, ok, he attacked someone this evening and we were trying to catch him for it. But, right now, we've no way of knowing if he's our man and, well, it's a bit extreme for him to throw himself in front of a train."

"So, what are you saying, that I pushed him or something?"

"No, of course not…"

"That's what it sounds like. It sounds like you're trying to suggest I'm at fault for this." She suddenly felt the coldness of her wet rear seep through the rest of her body, and she shivered violently. Glancing around at the people in the vicinity, barely visible in the darkness, she wished with all her might that Frank was there.

"That's not what I'm suggesting at all!" Alistair sighed again. "But there will be questions needing answered about all this."

She bit down the anger that was threatening to burst from her throat. "Well maybe we should concentrate on trying to identify him first."

"Well, that won't be a pleasant task, I'm sure," he grimaced. "I'm not sure there's that much left of him."

Bile suddenly rose in her throat and, turning away quickly, she expelled the contents of her stomach into the undergrowth before wiping her mouth and turning back to where Ted had now joined them.

"You ok?" he asked.

"Fine."

"What now?" he looked at Alistair.

"I suppose we need to wait for forensics. As I was just saying, it could take some time to identify him."

"Uniform are with the victim," Ted said. "Perhaps Chris and I should head back there and speak to her. She might be able to tell us something that will link this bloke with the rest of the attacks, clear the whole case up with one bang."

"Very timely," Alistair replied, "given the mess down there."

"Thanks," she said, as they started walking away from the bridge back the way they came. "I was starting to feel as though I was under interrogation."

"It wasn't your fault. He clearly had his own reasons for jumping."

"Well, acting DI Grieg seemed to be suggesting that I either didn't make it clear I was a police officer, or I pushed the bastard."

"Come on, nobody thinks that."

"No?" she shivered again, still somewhat shocked by what had happened, but equally angry that she hadn't been able to apprehend the suspect, hadn't been able to secure justice. "I should have been able to stop him. If he's our man, then nobody's going to get any closure from this."

"You did everything you could," Ted said, putting his arm around her shoulders. "He made his choice. Sometimes, it just goes that way. Besides, something tells me that our acting DCI is going to be more concerned that you're all right, than what's just happened."

"Maybe. Doesn't make me feel any better about it though." Pat's face swam before her eyes, and she couldn't help the terrible feeling of guilt in her gut. "He should have been forced to face up to what he did."

"I'm sure he's getting his from the Almighty."

"You believe that?"

"I do. Sometimes it's the only thing that makes this job worthwhile."

They emerged back onto the pathway and began making their way back towards the scene of the latest attack, blue lights on the horizon lighting their way. She could only hope, for everyone's sake, that Ted was right.

XXXX

"So, he took the coward's way out."

"Yes sir. The pathologist on scene said he would have been killed instantly."

"Lucky him." Frank rose from his chair and walked over to the window overlooking the yard. Ever since the news had filtered through that the suspect was dead, he had experienced a mixture of emotions; anger, relief, grief. He didn't want to have to be the one to tell his sister that, if he was who they thought he was, there would be no visible justice, no paying for the crime, beyond the loss of his own life. "What's happening now?"

"We've sealed off the scene whilst forensic do their work. The assault victim's been taken to hospital to be checked over and samples taken. Hopefully we can get checks done quickly to verify both the identity of the deceased and whether there's any match to her and the others." Alistair paused. "There might be some questions to be answered."

"What sort of questions?"

"Well…Christina's proximity to the suspect when he jumped, whether she identified herself as a police officer…"

He swung around to face the other man. "What are you saying?"

"Nothing. I'm just…it was dark and, well, like I said to Chris, it's a bit of a drastic outcome."

"So, what, you think she pushed him or something?"

"No…"

"What then?"

Alistair sighed, "I just think it's important that we cover everything so that nobody can ever come back and say we did something wrong. I think Chris should write a statement as soon as possible, make sure that she's got her version down."

"Her version?" he came around the desk. "As far as I can ascertain, she was chasing him, and he jumped. What other version are you expecting?"

"I just think it's important…"

"Oh, put a sock in it, Alistair!" he exclaimed, irritated beyond belief at the suggestion that she would have done anything wrong. "None of this is going to blow back on you."

"That wasn't what I was meaning. We're under scrutiny as a department. You're under scrutiny as acting DCI, even more so because of your personal involvement in this case. I just think we need to make sure we're squeaky clean, that's all."

"Well, thank you for your concern, Alistair, but I doubt MS15 are going to be breaking down the door over this one, do you?" The other man said nothing. "Where is WDC Lewis anyway?"

"She and Ted came back with us. Last I saw, she was heading for the canteen."

"Thank you. Perhaps I should go and offer her some support seeing as you seem hell-bent on making her some sort of scapegoat for the whole sorry mess." Before the other man could reply, he pushed past him out of the office and made his way downstairs into the canteen. It was relatively quiet for that time of night, only a few officers dotted around, but he could see her sat in the far corner with Ted and he made his way over. "You all right?"

She nodded, "Yes."

"Give us a minute, will you Ted?" he looked at the other man who nodded and rose to his feet, giving up his chair to him. Sitting down, he looked over at her. "You sure?" She nodded again. "What happened?"

"We were just sitting in the car when a call came through that there was an attack in progress. Ted and I got there as quickly as we could and gave chase…" she shivered slightly. "The suspect ran towards the railway line, climbed over the barrier on the bridge and…well…it almost seemed as though he was waiting for the train to come and then he just…jumped."

"Waiting for the train?"

"Yeah. I mean, at first, I thought he was going to jump down onto the tracks to try to get away but, he waited until we could hear the train and then jumped. I don't think I'll ever forget that sound…" lifting her cup to her mouth he saw that her hands were shaking and resisted the urge to take them in his own. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"For not catching him. For letting him get away."

"It's not your fault."

"No?"

"Of course not. If he was hellbent on taking his own life, there was absolutely nothing you could do about it. Believe me, I've been there." She blinked and lowered her gaze. "At least he didn't decide to take you with him."

"The way Alistair was interrogating me afterwards you'd think I'd pushed him."

"Don't worry about him. You know what's he like. He's a pen-pusher, worried about how he's going to come out of all of this."

"But surely none of us are going to come out badly? I mean, all we did was try to do our jobs. We can't be criticised, can we? You weren't even involved."

"Well now that Madam's in charge over at Complaints you never know," he made a face, "but if I was a betting person, no. It was his choice at the end of the day to do what he did and if the DNA comes back as a match, then at least that's a few cases cleared up."

"Not so good for the victims though. What about Pat?"

"Don't worry about Pat, she'll be fine."

"I'd like to be there when you tell her." She looked at him wide-eyed. "I feel like I should be there."

He wanted to tell her that it was all right, that she didn't need to put herself through that after what had happened, wanted to tell her that it was his responsibility, wanted to hold her and try and inject some warmth back into her clearly frozen form. "All right," he agreed. "Maybe she might take it better coming from you." He paused. "You should go home, get some sleep. Nothing much more is going to happen tonight, is it?"

She shook her head. "I wish you could come with me."

"Yeah," he glanced over towards the canteen door, open as it was revealing Derek standing watching them. "You and me both."

XXXX

Her flat was cold by the time she got home, the heating having long since clicked off. Though she knew that she should have gone straight to bed, she had no desire to sleep, her mind still turning over and over what had happened mere hours earlier. To a man, everyone but Alistair, had assured her that it hadn't been her fault, that there was nothing she had done wrong and that she couldn't have done anything more to stop the suspect killing himself. In fact, Viv had gone so far as to say that if she had got closer and been able to take hold of him, he could have killed her too and that she should look on it that way. It didn't really make her feel much better, but it was something. As she had been leaving, Frank had told her to write up a statement as soon as possible, whilst everything was fresh in her mind and though it was nothing that could be considered formal, she retrieved pen and paper and began jotting down what she remembered, telling herself that she would type it up the next day. She made herself some tea and turned on the television, gratified to find some old sitcom reruns that she hoped might divert her thoughts.

Instead, she found her mind wandering back to her father and the strange phone call they had had the previous day. It wasn't unusual for him to ask her to go and see him, she supposed, but his whole tone and demeanour had seemed odd, as though there was more to it. Part of her wanted to put the trip off as long as possible, but another part of her felt suddenly desperate to get to the bottom of it. She had half a mind to call him and try to wriggle out of him what the issue was, but the lateness of the hour made her realise what a foolhardy move it would be.

After two cups of tea, she didn't really feel much better and instead found herself growing more and more restless. Before she had time to consider matters, she found herself back in her car, driving towards a familiar address, hoping that he would be home.

"What's wrong?" he asked when he opened the door. "Do you know what time it is?"

"I know, I'm sorry," she said. "I just need someone to talk to."

"I thought I'd already told you that you weren't to blame for what happened tonight," Ted said, allowing her inside.

"You did."

"But?"

"But I still can't help feeling as though Alistair's right, that's he seeing something I'm missing about what happened, that there is some way that I could get in trouble for all this."

"Stuff Alistair! The bloke jumped in front of a train!" Ted exclaimed. "There's nothing that any of us could have done!" He hesitated. "Do you want a drink?"

"No, not when I'm driving."

"Well, I assume you won't mind if I have one," he reached into one of the kitchen cupboards and pulled out a bottle of scotch. "What has he said?"

"Who?"

"Burnside."

"Same as you; that it's not my fault."

"Well then."

"But he would say that, wouldn't he? Even if he didn't think it?"

"Don't be ridiculous, of course he wouldn't. If he thought you were in any way to blame, he'd tell you about it, regardless of whatever feelings he has for you." Ted poured himself a glass. "This was nothing more than a coward taking the easy way out."

"He reminded me that Reid's in charge over at Complaints now."

"Ha, for all of a week! I doubt she's had a chance to get her head around the years of backlog over there, never mind consider whether you did anything wrong a few hours ago, if it ever gets that far."

"Maybe," she paused. "I said I wanted to be there when Frank told his sister what happened."

Ted looked at her. "Why? To make yourself feel worse?"

"No, I just felt that I owed it to her to be there."

"What about the other victims? Were you planning to be there when they found out too?"

She hesitated; suddenly aware it was something she hadn't thought about. Her only thought had been for Pat and what she meant to Frank.

"If you don't want it to look as though you're playing some sort of favourites, then you should either not be there, or be there with all of them." He pointed his glass at her. "You know I'm right. This shouldn't be about you feeling guilty because she's your lover's sister."

"But I do feel guilty, most of all because she is…his sister, as you put it."

"Come on Chris, he's not going to dump you because of this, if that's what you're worried about."

Anger suddenly flared inside her at the suggestion. "That's not what this is about! It's about me feeling that I let her down, let them all down!"

"Well, if you let them down then so did the rest of us. You weren't the only person out there tonight, you know. We all played a part in not getting to him before he took his final jump." He sighed. "We've all had to deal with situations where we wish things had happened differently or we could have said and done different things. I certainly know I have, and Frank won't be any different. You've only got to think back to what happened to Johnno Smith. It's not the result you would have wanted, but it was his choice at the end of the day." He shook his head. "And stop letting Alistair fill your head with nonsense."

She smiled wanly, "Maybe you would have made the better acting DI after all."

Ted laughed. "No, my goose has been well and truly cooked as far as that's concerned. But yours hasn't, so don't let what's happened tonight make you feel any sense of misplaced guilt. He jumped because he knew he was done for, that we were going to arrest him and have him convicted. He's already tried to exert power over those poor women; don't let him do it to you too."

Climbing back into the car, Ted's words echoed around her head, and she knew they were true. She was guilty of allowing herself to think too deeply about things at times, about how her own actions impacted others, even when they didn't. Wasn't that why she had felt guilty about what Stewart had done?

Climbing out of the car outside her flat, she was surprised to see Frank's car parked at the kerb and the man himself standing at her door. "What are you doing here?"

"I came by to see if you were all right," he replied. "I wasn't expecting you to be out gallivanting at this time of night."

She unlocked the door and pushed it open. "I went to see Ted."

"Ted?"

"Yeah, just figured I needed someone to tell me like it is."

"I would have done that for you. I thought I had."

"It's different with you though, isn't it?" she turned to face him. "You're too involved."

"Are you suggesting that I'm not able to be impartial?" he said, moving towards her and sliding his arms around her waist. "Unprofessional, even?"

"No…" she felt herself relax at his touch and allowed him to pull her to him, burying her face against him. "It's just because it's your sister and…" she wasn't even sure what she was trying to say. "I don't know, I suppose I wish it had been anyone other than me that had been close to him at the time." She pulled back and looked at him. "Maybe I should have just let you go all vigilante the other night. You might have caught him."

He shook his head. "No, you did the right thing in stopping me. You're the better person out of the pair of us, I've always thought that." He kissed her gently. "It's one of the reasons why I love you." She kissed him back, harder, and for a moment thought they might have made the obvious next journey to her bedroom, but he suddenly pulled back and moved away from her. "Did you write your statement?"

"I wrote a few things down," she gestured to the paper still sat on the coffee table. "I'll type it up tomorrow."

"Good." He paused. "Conway wants to have a chat with you in the morning, just to talk over what happened, that's all," he added on her look.

"Oh, brilliant…"

"He's not suggesting anything," he reassured her. "It's only because I can't technically do it. He just wants to hear what happened and put your mind at rest that you did all you could. Which you did."

Her brain felt addled, stuffed to the gunnels with thoughts of what had happened that night to the point that she felt as though she couldn't take anything more in, and felt around instead for another topic of conversation. "My dad called me yesterday."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. He said he wanted me to go down and see him. Well, actually, he said he wanted us both to go."

"Both?"

She nodded. "Yeah…he didn't say why, just that it would be good to talk to you."

"Maybe he wants to find out my intentions."

"I doubt it. He's never bothered about anything like that before."

"Well, he's getting on a bit, maybe he's decided it's time he took more of an interest in his daughter's life."

"Christ…" she sighed. "As long as I'm not there if he does ask you about your intentions. I think I'd die of embarrassment."

"Given what I might say, I think that would be wise," he moved back over towards her. "I'm not sure many fathers would like to hear some of the things that go around my head when I think about you."

She felt a smile slowly creep over her face, despite everything. "Oh yeah, like what?"

"You…on my desk…legs apart…my fingers…my tongue…"

"Stop it, that's cruel."

"What's cruel about it?" he asked, his arms going around her again. "Don't tell me you don't fantasise about that sort of thing when you think about me."

"Of course I do," she replied, her body shivering once more, though with desire rather than cold. "But it's cruel to tease when you won't follow through." His eyes darkened slightly then, and he kissed her again, moving her backwards until she was pressed against the far living room wall and suddenly aware of his fingers at the button of her jeans. The material slackened and she heard the metallic of the zip as it lowered followed by the warm sensation of his hand on her lower belly. "I thought you said…"

"Sssshhh."

"But…"

"Stop talking."

His lips found hers again, his tongue probing inside her mouth as his fingers probed gently along the seam of her underwear, sliding it to one side before seeking and finding her sensitive core. She heard herself gasp against his mouth, her legs weakening as he encircled her. It had been so long, too long, since he had touched her in that way that she could feel herself building quickly to a crescendo, her breathing coming in short bursts as his lips moved from her mouth down her throat and into the crevice of her neck, his teeth scraping against her skin. "Oh shit…" she heard herself whisper, gripping onto him to try and maintain her balance. "Shit…Frank…" She climaxed inelegantly, words and sounds pouring from her throat, her body writhing and jerking against him in an uncoordinated dance that seemed to have no end until, slowly, she came back to herself, her movements becoming less animated until they simply stood together, and she wrapped her arms around him as he withdrew his hand from between her thighs. After a long moment, she pulled back and looked at him. "You definitely can't tell my dad about that." He laughed and kissed her again. "Don't you want me to return the favour?" Reaching between them, she could feel his hardness and see in his eyes the reflection of her own desire, but he simply shook his head and stepped back from her.

"No, that one was for you."

"Well, that's very generous of you." She rebuttoned her jeans and ran a hand through her hair. "Do you want to stay?"

"No, I'd best be getting home. As long as you're all right."

"I'm fine," she reassured him. "You honestly didn't need to come."

"I reckon you did," he grinned at her, and she felt her face redden. "I'll see you in the morning."

Following him to the door, she reached out and took his hand, pulling him back round to face her for a last kiss, everything that had happened that night seeming to melt away in the afterglow of him. "How did I end up in love with such a true romantic?"

"I've no idea," he replied, gently touching her cheek. "No idea at all."