Her whole existence was crumbling beneath her feet with every step. Four days ago her life had been normal. Three days ago an MI5 asset had saved her life. A day ago Charles had been hit by someone that had been aiming for her.

And now-

She sat in between Fidel and Dwayne at the Honoré Police Station as other officers from Guadeloupe silently swept through the building, occasionally bagging the occasional item and moving on. After what felt like forever, the team packed themselves up. Camille watched with a critical eye.

"We'll be back in touch, Inspector." The lead officer said politely as his people filed out, handing over a business card.

"Thank you." He took the card warily, sitting down wearily at his desk as the front door clicked closed.

"Are you under investigation?" She asked in a low voice.

"Not… yet." Parker said. "I suspect it's only a matter of time." He smiled grimly. "I've sent Marlon home. With everything going on, he's beside himself, convinced he's going to be sent to prison."

Considering the young man's background Camille understood his worry, and nodded. "Tell us what happened."

DI Parker gripped his hands together, eyes on the Guadeloupe officers who seemed to be conversing quietly in the parking lot. Finally he sighed. "I suppose it won't matter much. The investigators will probably be contacting all of you since you were officers under the Commissioner."

"Neville."

Parker pinched the bridge of his nose, before automatically pulling out a tube of after-sun gel and rubbing some into his red face.

"Selwyn Patterson has been arrested by the Commonwealth for corruption."

There was a silence that seemed to stretch on forever. As much as Camille liked Patterson, she thought back to all the ways the Commissioner had lied and cheated Richard to keep him on the island. All the times he had blatantly and unapologetically interfered in an active investigation to not affect the island's tourism, or upset those that might have had political pull that could damage his position. Camille had seen it as a minor frustration then, but now-

"That is a lie." The chair clattered to the floor as Dwayne sprang to his feet. "The Commissioner is a good man, and as straight as an arrow!"

All the Honoré officers looked at him, and after a moment he seemed to rethink his outburst, righted his chair and sank back down like nothing had happened. After all, if Selwyn Patterson had been truly as straight as an arrow, it was doubtful that Dwayne or even Camille with their rather unorthodox investigation methods would have had jobs in the first place. While Camille was sure Selwyn would have never actually done anything strictly illegal, the security and profitability of Saint Marie came first and foremost and always had.

"I know he's a good man." Neville said wearily. "I don't need convincing."

But Fidel wasn't about to argue about Patterson's faults, whatever they may have been. "Corruption, how? Extortion? Embezzlement?" His eyes narrowed. "Political?"

"Corruption of authority." Parker said evenly. "Suspicions of perjury. And those are the ones I know about so far."

"With the investigation, I'm assuming you won't be stepping into the Acting Commissioner role?"

The DI smiled grimly. "Even if all of this wasn't going on, I don't think I'd ever be trusted to take on that role." He said. "No, ah, we're borrowing a Super that was on holiday in Guadeloupe. Darlene and Naomi have actually gone to collect him now-"

That was when the door banged open, and Camille turned around to see her mother sweep into the room like a hurricane.

"Neville Parker!" Each of them winced. It was never a good thing when Catherine Bordey said your name like that. "You will explain yourself right now!"

Parker cast Camille a hopeful look and she just shrugged. "I wouldn't want to step on your toes, Inspector."

There was the teeniest, tiniest eyeroll. "Thank you, Inspector."

"What is this about Selwyn being arrested?" Catherine demanded.

The DI got to his feet. "It wasn't up to me, Catherine."

"Pah, that wasn't up to you," Catherine threw her hands up. "Are you not supposed to be the Chief of Police?"

"In this case, that makes very little difference." Parker said steadily, but Catherine ignored him.

"I know you and Selwyn have had your differences in opinion, Neville, but Selwyn is good for this island, we need him here. He always does the right thing! Sometimes he has to bend the rules to see that justice is done, of course, but-"

"Maman, that's called 'Fixing'." Camille said. "And it's a crime."

"Corruption is not exclusive to bad people." Parker said. "Good men still do bad things for good reasons."

Catherine glared contemptuously at him and the DI reddened.

But Fidel, of course it was Fidel, stayed straight on target, refusing to engage in the debates on Selwyn Patterson's morality.

"God, Camille," His face was stricken. "Every arrest we've ever made our entire careers will be under suspicion. Every person we've ever had a hand in bringing to justice will use this to push to get their charges dropped, since we were officers under a Commissioner that was arrested for corruption and statistically there's no way we're all honest cops. Cases going back decades. Hundreds of people from every police officer that has passed through Saint Marie!"

"Then we have to find out what's going on." Camille said. "What's really going on. I think-"

Parker put his hand up. "Alright, stop!"

"Neville-" Catherine started.

"I am an active police officer under the Commissioner. The Chief of Police. Although the investigation hasn't started officially, I'm expecting to be dealing with Internal Affairs any day now. I literally can't hear this."

Unless he wanted to incriminate himself.

"Of course." Camille tucked her chair away. "Thank you, Neville."

Parker nodded absently, slumping down further at the desk. Camille recognised the deep lines in his forehead, the look on his eyes. They said 'why am I still here?' She knew the feeling.

There was a knock at the open door. "Sir?"

Camille looked over her shoulder to see Parker's DS eyeing them all up cautiously.

"Ah, you're back." Parker straightened. "You have the Superintendent?"

"Yes, sir. He'd like to meet you before he gets to work."

"Don't mind us, ma'am, we're just leaving." Fidel said in that polite, even voice that always seemed to put people at ease.

And that was when it happened.

"Sergeant Best!"

Camille watched her friend immediately snap into attention, his back rigidly straight, eyes wide with disbelief and a little bit of horror. "Sir!"

There was a chuckle behind them. "At ease, DS Best, we're not at home right now." Camille looked at the man that had spoken, rather unimpressed with the doughy, watery-eyed figure his light linen suit and white Panama hat that made him look like rather like a villain from an eighties movie. But there was a sharpness about his smile that was strangely reminiscent of someone.

"Though I am a little bit perturbed that you're here." He said. "Particularly, here."

"I… I'm visiting family."

The man took off his hat, smoothing his hair. "In the police station?"

Fidel was beginning to panic, Camille could see it. "Well, I…"

"This was part of our stomping ground when we all worked together." Dwayne, as ever, was never going to watch his friends flounder for long. He stuck out his hand, bold as brass. "Dwayne Myers, formerly of the Saint Marie Police Force."

The man arched an eyebrow. "A reunion? Right now?"

Dwayne's smile was sharp. "No time like the present, am I right?"

The man in the hat just wordlessly smiled, and it suddenly hit Camille who he reminded her of. Anderson. He reminded her of Doug Anderson, the faux-friendly manner and the way he had undermined DI Poole with a smile. He brushed past the three of them to where DI Parker was standing awkwardly, offering a hand almost like he expected Neville to kiss it.

He shook Parker's hand.

"Superintendent Max Dooley."

The drive back to the Bordey house was in silence until Fidel finally cracked.

"I can't believe this." His hands were tight on the steering wheel. "I can't believe he's here. Replacing our Commissioner! He has to know. He has to know I know! I'm going to end up in prison!"

"Come on, man, you don't know that." Dwayne tried for calm. "If I'm not in prison yet, you're not going to be."

"That is exactly the point, Dwayne!" Fidel's knuckles were white. "My God, and you more or less dared him to arrest you! This is an absolute disaster!"

"Pull over." Camille said shortly.

"What? I-"

"Fidel, pull over now,"

The jeep jerked off to the side, and her friend lent over the steering wheel. "I'm going to be sick." Fidel groaned.

There was a sniff from the back. "Point it out the window and blast away."

"Dwayne!"

But at Dwayne's words, a tiny smile flashed across Fidel's face, and he slumped back in the seat. "What do we do, Sarge?"

"I don't know." Camille leaned her head back against the headrest. "I need to think." She ran her fingers back though her hair, glancing out the window.

Something caught her eye and Camille immediately shot up straight. "Oh, you bastard."

"What is it?" Fidel asked.

She was scrabbling with her seatbelt. "It's Roger Sadler."

"Camille?" Dwayne sounded completely startled as Camille scrabbled with the door handle and stumbled out onto the road. "Who's Roger Sadler?"

But Camille was already moving. She was aware of her friends shouting after her as she took off running, weaving in and out of vendors and leaping over startled chickens. She followed the figure, but as she burst out onto a side street where person had disappeared, the alley ended abruptly in a stone wall.

All the doors up and down the back street were locked tight and looked like they hadn't been open in years. Camille kicked the wall, but all that did was hurt her foot. Shaking out her foot she swore again, a long string of curses in a mixture of languages.

"Son of a bitch!" Grumbling to herself, Camille hunted through her pockets for her phone, and swore again when she realised that it must have fallen out in the jeep. "Oh, you idiot!" She slammed her fist against the nearest door, before whirling around and shoving her fingers back into her hair, gripping her head. "You are insane!"

"I could have told you that."

Camille whirled, but her fists came down as she saw Fidel stumble into the street. He bent double, hands on his knees, and after a brief moment to catch his breath he straightened with a resentful glower.

"What the hell was that?" He demanded.

"I thought I saw…" She trailed off. "Nothing."

Fidel's look was poisonous. "Camille, you can't do that!"

"Do what, exactly?" She could feel herself begin to fire up.

"Are you – anything could have happened to you! We couldn't find you! Dwayne's just driving in circles around town! You didn't even take your phone!"

Part of her was starting to feel a little ashamed at how angry he was. It didn't seem right for Fidel Best, the puppy-dog of Honoré Station, to be wild enough to actually snap back. He jabbed an accusing finger at her.

"Why do you think I left the island? For Rosie! Why do you think I'm back? My kids!"

"Are you lecturing me, Fidel?"

"Too right I am!" Fidel blurted, chest heaving. "You are a mum now, Camille, you can't just do things like this anymore!"

Camille's teeth gritted. "And I suppose you're saying that you know so much more about being a mother than me," she said sarcastically.

"No!" He threw his hands in the air. "I'm saying that you need to think before you do things like this! For Aimèe!"

The argument stuttered to a stop at the utterance of Aimèe's name, and Camille reeled back a little as it slowly sunk into her mind that she hadn't even thought of her daughter even once as she jumped out of the jeep to follow a phantom. Bile rose in her throat and all of a sudden her eyes stung with tears.

"You're right. You're right. I'm a terrible person." She was dimly aware of Fidel's arms going comfortingly around her.

"No, you're not." Fidel said lightly. "You're the same Camille you always were. Including not being able to ask for help." The words were pointed. "We're your backup, Camille. Let us help you."

The last bit of solid earth under her feet was beginning to shake, the very foundation of who she was starting to flake away.

"I… will. I will."

"Good." Fidel said. "If you don't, we'll have to call your maman."

"You lie!"

Five days ago her life had been normal. Four days ago her cover had been blown. Three days ago someone had tried to kill her. Two days ago a man that she had known the majority of her life had been arrested for something she couldn't comprehend.

What was going to be in store for her today?

Aimèe was a hit around the bar. The lunchtime rush was yet to happen so the staff weren't completely run off their feet yet and therefore were able to fawn over the baby. Aimèe seemed particularly fascinated with Catherine's new manager and his thick Scottish accent, staring up at the towering man in awe. Five minutes later Catherine swept back onto the scene with boxes under her arms and proceeding to set up a playpen in the restaurant before casually festooning it with toys.

Camille just stared at her maman as Aimèe attempted to climb up her leg. "You're really… prepared."

Catherine patted her cheek. "I have been prepared since you were 23 and Toby Baker proposed. Do you know he's a firefighter now?"

"Has he finally moved out of his grandmother's trailer?" She didn't like her mother's casual tone. "If you've invited him for lunch, I'm going to kill you."

Catherine's look was bold. "As if you ever could take me."

Aimèe seemed particularly taken with her new play area, examining each toy with the serious determination of someone looking for hidden razor blades. Seemingly satisfied with her inspection, Aimèe let herself fall backwards into the pile of plush toys, holding a toy lizard over her face before promptly biting its head. Camille couldn't help but smile.

Catherine spun around, taking Camille's arm. "Now we can all watch her, and you can man the register."

"You brought me here for a holiday and now you're putting me to work?" Her tone was only half joking.

"Chèrie, like you've ever actually taken a break in your life," Catherine retorted. Camille had to reluctantly concede the point as she took up the familiar spot behind the counter, eye on her daughter the whole time.

At this time of the day, the kitchen was mostly catering to British tourists wandering in to try someplace 'local' for lunch, the ones that thought they were being daring by ordering a slice of cheesecake with a passionfruit drizzle. Aimèe created a game for herself by waiting for a tourist to pass by her pen to get to the register and throwing her new lizard out in front of them and whining until they handed it back. She was up to six by now.

A chair scraped against the floor and there was a small plonk as the lizard once again sailed over the walls of the pen. Camille smiled slightly to herself as she fixed up the payment for the sweet elderly couple paying for their lunchtime mimosas, seeing someone stoop to retrieve the toy out of the corner of her eye. Ah, hello lucky number seven.

The elderly couple made Camille promise to thank Catherine and the other staff for their lovely service and food before going arm-in-arm into the afternoon discussing pirate gold. Now that was the ideal, walking into the sunset with the love of your life to hunt for pirates. Camille put on her best Customer Service smile as she looked up at Lucky Number Seven.

"Could I fix up a bill, please?"

"Oui. What did you have?"

"Pint of British Larger. Two ham and cheese sandwiches."

Camille checked the order forms before ringing it up, trying not to react to the painful Englishness of the order. How Carlos had made not one but two ham and cheese sandwiches without slitting his wrists was admirable. He must have still been mostly high from the night before.

"And a mug of tea, lemon twist."

Lemon twist. Lucky Number Seven was truly living large. She counted out his change and tore off the register receipt.

"There you go."

"Thank you, Inspector Bordey."

Her hands paused on the register. Plenty of people she didn't personally know knew who she was. It came with being the daughter of Catherine Bordey, the Voice of Honoré. It wasn't normally one of the British, though. She looked up sharply at Lucky Number Seven, searching for familiarity in his weathered, tired face.

"Do I know you?"

"You used to." He said, a wistfulness in his voice like he had been searching for something that wasn't there. "Once."

Camille frowned. "What?"

"Never mind." The man awkwardly made a show of looking at his receipt to get out of the situation he had created. "Have a nice day, Camille."

'Camille.' Her name said in a soft voice as her fingers dug into his neck.

She stared dumbly as Lucky Number Seven turned back to the patio, tapping another man on the shoulder who was draining the last dregs of his larger. In a matter of seconds he'd be gone into the dry afternoon and disappear like a mirage.

'We have exactly thirty seconds remaining until some rather heavily-armed men bust those doors down and flood in here.'

Camille's brain barely registered that the second man in the loud Hawaiian shirt was Roger Sadler.

'And I strongly suggest absconding forthwith.'

She knew someone who spoke like that. Who did she knew that spoke that way? Who?

The new manager Danny and Catherine's massive Mauri bouncer Elliot came in fresh from changing over the kegs, both of them looking scruffy and wild and a little like roughnecks finally granted leave after ten years on an oil rig and an idea struck.

"Ey!" Camille shouted toward them, and both men immediately looked up, recognising her tone. She brandished a finger. "Them bludgers sold me funny money!"

Lucky Number Seven looked around himself as Danny and Elliot moved to flank them, confusion immeasurable as he realised that she was talking about him passing off counterfeit money. "I think there's been some kind of mistake-"

"Where we off to, mates?" Danny asked, perfectly pleasant.

A concerned expression flashed over Lucky Number Seven's face briefly and then it was gone.

"We're just here for lunch." He said flatly. "There's been a mistake."

But Roger Sadler met Camille's eyes unabashedly, smile all teeth.

"No there's not."

Her teeth gnashed together. She was going to kick his smug head in. By the look Lucky Number Seven shot him, he would gladly help.

"Now gents." Elliot said calmly. "Maybe we should have a chat before the police get here?"

"No need, I am the police." Camille strode forward as one of the girls took over the register. Bloody Roger Sadler stood there calmly with his hands in his pockets, the very picture of unconcerned arrogance. But there seemed to be an undercurrent of panic in Lucky Number Seven. "You were there." Her uncertainty was gone. "I know you. How do I know you?"

"Pardon?"

"You said my name. I know you."

"Well, I-"

The next moment Camille reached out and grabbed the man by his bearded chin.

"Cam." Elliot said warily. She was aware of the few tourists in the bar watching them with wide-eyed astonishment. She could hear someone out the back calling for her maman. "You need to let him go."

"I don't know." She breathed. "You-" Sad eyes in a sad face.

Sad eyes in a sad face buttoned up under a veneer of invulnerability-

"You…"

-heavy woollen getups worn like suits of armour-

"You."

-shaking down the entire island in a quest for a passable cup of tea-

"Camille, let him go."

Camille released his chin, but her other hand was moving before she was consciously aware of it and with a loud thwack her palm connected with Lucky Number Seven's face and his head snapped to the side.

Instantly there was silence, but of the rushing of blood in her ears.

"You utter bastard." An unexpected undercurrent of rage had risen up from deep within and threatened to drown her. "Is this some kind of joke? Because it is not funny."

"I think she remembers you." Sadler said casually to the other man.

Number Seven ran his tongue around his teeth like he was looking for any that had been knocked loose, nose screwed up in annoyance. "That seemed rather uncalled for." He finally gritted out.

"Oh, I find it was rather called for." Camille snarled. As Sadler snorted, she whirled on him. "That's enough of you." She heard footsteps behind her, but didn't pay them much heed. "How dare you?"

Danny and Elliot exchanged looks, both of them completely confused but not willing to step aside in case the situation escalated again.

"How dare you, Camille Amèlie Bordey?"

Hurricane Catherine had made landfall.

"I have just comped eight free lunches with drinks, had to close my business for Loa knows how long, I 'ave calls from the neighbours about the screaming thinking someone is dying, I'm trying to organise a re-election campaign and Neville is not answering his telephone and I do not need this right now!" Catherine grabbed her arm, squeezing. She turned to the men, a grovelling apology on her lips when she looked squarely at Lucky Number Seven.

Camille could see in her mother's eyes the moment it clicked. Unlike herself, there was no moment of confusion at all for Catherine Bordey, all the indignant righteousness evaporating in an instant.

"What?" Was all her mother managed.

Extraordinary, the voice in her mind whispered.

For today was the day Richard Poole had come back from the dead.