"So, what happened?"

"Well, we warned him off. Told him that he should leave you alone. No more flowers, no more phone calls and no more hanging around outside your flat."

Christina looked between Dave and Steve, searching their faces for some sort of sign as to how the warning had been received by her husband. "And?"

"He…uh…made some pretty wild accusations," Dave said.

"Like what?"

"Well, he said that you're…uh…knocking off DI Burnside, if you know what I mean."

She tried to keep her expression impassive and desperately hoped that she wouldn't blush. "I thought he might."

"Why would he say that?" Steve asked, looking at her curiously.

"Because he's upset that we've split up, I suppose," she replied. "He's trying to get at me."

"Whilst simultaneously sending you flowers in an effort to try and win you back?"

"Is that what he said?"

"That seemed to have been his intention, yeah," Dave said, "but he seemed pretty angry about this alleged affair."

"How drunk was he?"

"On a scale of one to ten, I'd say about a twenty."

She sighed heavily, "Ok, thanks guys, I appreciate it. I hope that we can…uh…keep what he said between us?"

"Don't worry, Monroe's already told us we've to keep schtum within an inch of our lives," Steve said.

"Thanks. You know how damaging rumours like this can be."

"Mum's the word."

As she made her way back upstairs to the CID office, she knew that she had to trust her colleagues, even if she wasn't sure that she could. Gossip always spread like wildfire around a police station and the last thing she needed was the relief talking about her and Frank. She hoped that she had come across appropriately nonchalant about the accusation and that Stewart would have heeded the warning. The phone on her desk was ringing as she walked back inside, but when she lifted the receiver, the line went dead. Frank was on the phone in his office, and she knocked and then waited until he waved her inside.

"Yeah…well, whenever you can. Yeah, I appreciate it Tommy, thanks a lot." Replacing the receiver, he looked up at her. "Well?"

"Quinnan and Loxton spoke to him. He's still pedalling the story about us, and they said he was pretty drunk…I suppose all I can do is hope that the visit put the wind up him a bit."

"If he contacts you, or you see him when you're out and about, you need to report it straightaway," he reminded her.

"I know and I will." She paused. "It just makes me feel a bit funny, that's all."

"What, reporting him?"

"No, just the fact that he might actually have been following me. It's not what I would have expected from him. Anger, upset, trying to win me back; yes. But being sneaky like this…" she shook her head. "It's just all a bit…disconcerting."

He stood up and came around to her side of the desk. "Stay with me tonight," he said quietly. She shook her head. "Hear me out. It's better that you've got company, in case he does try anything."

"He's not going to try anything," she replied, unwilling to believe it could ever get that far. "And I'm not coming to stay with you. The last thing we should be doing right now is giving him, or anyone, the opportunity to think that we're spending any more time together than we should be."

"I told you, I'm not stepping back from you for him."

"I know, but we at least need to be a bit more discrete…" she broke off as Kim appeared at the office door. "Ma'am."

"Christina, could I have a word with you?" Kim asked. "In my office?"

"Yes Ma'am, of course." She glanced at Frank as she turned to follow her, only for him to shrug in ignorance. "I actually wanted to apologise," she said, once they were alone.

"For what?"

"For my husband's phone call to you. I'm sorry that he saw fit to drag you into our private affairs."

"It was hardly your fault. I know these things can be difficult."

"Yes Ma'am."

"I've been wanting to talk to you for some time," Kim said, gesturing for her to sit down. "I'm keen to hear your thoughts on taking the sergeants exam."

"Oh…well, I was going to take it last summer, but then Stewart was shot, and it sort of went on the back burner."

"Yes, I know that DCI Wray thought you should go forwards for it again and I have to say that I'm of the same mind. It's important for women to take every opportunity that's made available to them in this job. I know it can be difficult, cracking the glass ceiling as it were, but when we have officers as young and enthusiastic as you, we need to nurture that talent."

She felt her cheeks flame, "Well, that's very kind of you to say Ma'am…"

"It's not meant as flattery, I'm simply being honest. CID is still a very male dominated environment as I'm sure you're well aware, and we need to take strides to change that. There's an exam coming up in May and I think you should take it."

Coupled with everything else going on in her life, it seemed somewhat overwhelming to consider taking on anything more and yet she knew that she couldn't let personal issues stop her from progressing professionally.

"I know you feel like you have a lot on at the moment," Kim said, as though reading her thoughts. "But perhaps a focus like this would help."

"Yes, perhaps it would." She paused, as a thought flashed through her mind. "If I got the promotion, Ma'am, would I stay at Sun Hill or be posted elsewhere?"

Kim sat back in her chair. "Well, usually an officer is deployed elsewhere, but not always. Are you saying you would prefer to stay at Sun Hill if that were the case?"

"I'm not sure," she replied truthfully. Frank seemed certain that he would be successful with the Flying Squad, thus moving him on from Sun Hill, but what if he wasn't? Perhaps if she made DS and moved on somewhere else it would help solve the problem, particularly as she wasn't convinced he really wanted to leave.

"Well, it's not as if you need to decide something like this now," Kim said. "Have a think about things and let me know over the next week or so if you're interested in going forwards. But, for what it's worth, I really don't think it's an opportunity you should turn down."

"Thank you, Ma'am," she got to her feet. "I'll certainly think about it." Back at her desk, she tried to focus on the tasks that lay in her in-tray, well aware that her concentration had, at times, been lacking of late. Just as she was about to go down to talk to uniform about a burglary that had landed on her desk, the phone rang. For a moment, she stared at it, wondering if it would be another hang up, before lifting it. "CID, WDC Lewis speaking."

"Chris."

Her stomach flipped over. "Stewart."

"I don't know what you thought you were doing sending those two plods round to see me." His voice was low, angry and yet he sounded relatively sober. "I think we both know who's in the wrong here."

She took a breath, "I don't know what you mean. You're the one sending me flowers, calling and hanging up, following me…"

"What do you expect me to do? You're my wife."

"We've had this conversation. We're getting a divorce."

"Yeah, only last time we spoke, you told me you wanted a divorce because you were unhappy with my behaviour, with my drinking."

"Yes, and that hasn't changed."

"Don't give me that. The only reason you want a divorce is because you're shagging Frank Burnside." His tone dripped with contempt. "I mean, Jesus Christ, him of all people."

She fought down the urge to defend Frank, knowing that she couldn't give him any ammunition. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie! I saw you. I saw you kissing and fondling him all the way to the door of your flat before you went inside. Don't tell me he wasn't there for sex because I won't believe you!"

"You can believe what you like, but it's not true." Ted came and sat down at his desk opposite, and she lowered her voice, unwilling for the conversation to become a spectacle. "I have to go."

"No, wait…I need to see you. I need to speak to you in person."

"I can't do that."

"Can't or won't? You think I just called your DCI up on a whim? You think I won't do it again?"

"If you keep harassing me then eventually, you'll get nicked," she said.

"Not if I've got proof."

She paused on his words, a chill creeping through her. "What sort of proof?"

"Photos."

"Photos of what?"

"Of you and him, looking very cosy."

She looked over at Ted and saw he was watching her. "What do you want?"

"I want you back. I want things to be the way they were before I got shot, before I started drinking. I want us, the way we used to be…" he trailed off and she could hear a note of sorrow in his voice. "I miss you, Chris, more than you know."

"You said you had stopped drinking."

"I had…until I saw you with him and then…I just couldn't…" his voice shook. "I could understand me driving you to someone else but not…not him. You know what he's like, Chris. He's had more women than you and I have had hot dinners. He's just using you and when he's done, he'll throw you on the scrap heap like all the others and move on to the next one."

"Stewart…"

"Maybe it's just a fling…I get that. It's always just been you and me and you wanted to see what life was like on the other side of the fence, I get that. But…but you and me…we belong together, and you know that. Everything we've been through…all these years…"

She closed her eyes, hating the emotion that she could feel bubbling inside her. She had loved him so much – once. "I'm sorry," she said, "but things can't be the way they were, Stewart."

"I'll change. I'll be different. I'll be whatever you want me to be. Just say that you'll try. Say that you'll try to make it work, please Chris."

Tears pricked her eyes. "I can't."

There was an elongated moment of silence. "Then I'm going to show these pictures to whoever I have to."

Panic flooded her, but she knew that she had to try and stay as calm as possible. "Why would you want to hurt me like that?"

"I don't want to hurt you," he replied. "It's him. Bastard thinks he can get away with bedding my wife well, he's got another think coming. Something like this is guaranteed to do his legs and then he won't be so bloody smug."

The last thing she wanted, the last thing she could bear, was for whatever evidence Stewart had to hurt Frank, to ruin his career. Her own mattered to her too, of course it did, but she couldn't be responsible for the consequences for his. She couldn't let that happen. "Where do you want to meet?"

"Come to the house." She hesitated. "Please Chris."

"Ok," she glanced at her watch. "I can be there in twenty minutes."

"Great, I'll see you soon. I love you."

"Bye." She put the phone down and let out a long breath.

"Trouble?"

Getting to her feet, she reached for her jacket, ignoring Ted's gaze. "No, not really."

"Come on, I know that was Stewart on the phone, I heard you say his name. What's happening?"

"Nothing's happening."

"Christina…"

"Ted, just leave it, ok? It's none of your business. If Frank asks where I am, tell him I'm out on enquiries."

"Hold on…" Ted got to his feet and started to pursue her down the corridor. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere."

"Listen to me!" he took hold of her arm, stopping her at the top of the stairs. "You're going to meet him, aren't you? Aren't you?"

She shook him off and stepped closer to him so no-one else could hear. "He said he has proof."

"Proof of what?"

"Of Frank and I together. He said he's got photographs from last night."

"Last night?"

"It's a very long story which I really don't have time to get into now."

"I don't think this is a very good idea," Ted said, following her down the stairs. "I don't think you should see him on your own. Last time I saw the two of you together he was grabbing hold of you!"

"That isn't going to happen this time. Look, please Ted…" she turned back to face him. "I need to try and sort this on my own, please."

Ted sighed and shook his head. "I won't lie for you. If he asks me where you are, I'm going to tell him."

"Fine," she nodded, well aware of the fury that would erupt from Frank if he found out. "That's all I can expect I suppose." Before he could say anything else, she pushed the door open and hurried out of the building before heading round to the yard to where she had left her car. With any luck she could have the matter done and dusted before Frank even noticed she was gone.

XXXX

Ted was in a funny mood. Ever since he had come back from meeting a snout earlier that afternoon, Frank had noticed him dancing around at his desk; standing up, sitting down, moving around the room, running his hand through his hair as though he was anxious about something. Watching him was rather hypnotic for a while, then it just became irritating.

"Ted…" he wandered to the door of his office. "Have you got ants in your pants or something?"

"What?" Ted looked at him. "No…no, nothing like that."

"Then what's up with you? You've been prowling around like a cat on a hot tin roof for the last half hour."

"It's nothing."

"Well, it can't be nothing." He paused. "Something you want to tell me?" Ted looked up at him and he could see the wheels turning in the other man's head. "In confidence, of course." Jim and Mike glanced up from their own desks and then exchanged looks. "Yes, and I would talk to you pair in confidence too if the need arose," he remarked. "Come on, in here." Somewhat reluctantly, Ted rose from his seat and came into the office. "Now, what's going on?"

"It's delicate."

"How delicate?"

"Very delicate." He closed the door. "It's about Christina."

"What about her? Where is she anyway?"

Ted shoulders seemed to physically slump, as though he was almost relieved to be asked the question. "I told her I wouldn't lie."

"About what?"

"She got a phone call about…forty minutes ago, from Stewart. He said he had proof of the fact the two of you are together, photographs from last night apparently, whatever that relates to…"

Frank felt his blood suddenly chill.

"Anyway, he wanted to meet her and, well, she agreed. I tried to stop her. I told her not to go…"

"Where?" he said, stepping forwards. "Where was she going?"

"I don't know, she wouldn't tell me. I heard her tell him on the phone it would take her twenty minutes to get there, but that's all. Frank, I really did try to stop her…"

The wheels began whirring in his head as he tried to think of all the most likely places they would go. "The house."

"What, their house?"

"Private, no-one to disturb them…" he yanked open the office door and started hurrying down the corridor.

"Wait, I'll come with you!"

"No," he swung around to face Ted, "No, I don't want you involved."

"Frank…"

"This is between the three of us; me, her and him, nobody else."

"I feel as though I'm talking to myself today," Ted said. "Is nobody going to listen to me? This is a bad idea!"

"Coming from the man who takes more risks that Madonna, that's rich."

"Let me come with you, at least for a bit of back-up if things go wrong!"

"No! I've got a radio in the car. If anything does happen, I'll call it in. Please Ted," he added on the other man's look. "You have to let us sort it between ourselves."

"You're crazy, you know that?" Ted shook his head. "She's made you crazy, not to mention stupid. But I suppose I can't really stop you now, can I?"

"No, you can't." He turned away before Ted could say anything else and hurried down the stairs. Maybe he was crazy, but he was also furious and when he got his hands on Christina, he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do.

XXXX

The house looked the same as it always had. Indeed, she wasn't sure why she thought it would look any different. Perhaps she had assumed that, without her, the place would have fallen to rack and ruin. Of course, she hadn't been inside yet. Perhaps the real horrors lurked behind the front door. Slowly she made her way up the path and then hesitated before ringing the bell. It barely finished echoing through the house before the door was opened.

"You came," Stewart said.

"I said I would," she replied, as he stepped back to let her enter. Casting her eyes around the hallway she noticed that it was slightly untidy, but nothing to the extent that it had once been at the height of his drinking. Keen to get the conversation over with, she turned back to face him. "Where are they?"

"Where are what?"

"The photos."

"Yeah, well…do you want something to drink?" he walked through the hallway into the kitchen, and she felt as though she had no option but to follow him. There was a half-drunk bottle of scotch on the table, and she could other empty bottles lined up near the backdoor. "I mean, you don't have to have an actual alcoholic drink if you don't want to. I could make you a coffee?" He looked at her expectantly.

"No thanks, I'm fine. Where are the photos, Stewart?"

He sighed heavily and shook his head, "I still can't believe it, you know. You and him…"

"I didn't come here to debate it with you…"

"How long?" he interrupted her. "How long has it been going on?"

She paused, wondering if it was some kind of trap. If he intended to record her and then present her own words as evidence against her. "Does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters. How could it not matter?"

"Not long."

"How long is not long?"

"Just…not long."

"I'm not recording you or anything," he said, as though privy to her thoughts. "I'm not as bad as all that, you know."

"Really? You threaten me with photographs then tell me you're not as bad as all that?" she laughed derisively and shook her head. "I don't know you at all, do I?"

"I'm the one who doesn't know you. I've known you all these years, and I never would have thought you would have been dumb enough to fall for his pathetic lines." She felt herself bristle. "I mean…there was a time when you couldn't stand him, Chris, moaned about him constantly, remember? Now you're shagging him…" He looked at her pointedly. "I was the only man you'd ever been with before him."

"What's your point?"

"Something's happened to you. You've changed."

"No, you've changed!" she retorted. "You changed beyond all recognition after you got shot, Stewart. Getting drunk, getting arrested, pushing me around…is it any wonder I decided I couldn't take it anymore? Not to mention the fact that there have been so many things over the years that, at the time, I couldn't see, but now I see very clearly."

"What things?"

"Your lack of support, your lack of care…you didn't give a toss about what happened to me in Patterson's club, did you? You walked out of the court before I gave evidence, right when I needed you. You were pleased that I failed the sergeants' exam. You enjoyed coming to Sun Hill and having a pop at us whenever you could."

"That's rubbish…"

"No, it isn't. Maybe it was because we had been together so long that I just thought that was how things were. I had no idea that things could be different."

"What, with him?" he sneered at her. "So, he supports you then, cares about you, loves you…?"

"Yes, he does."

He stared at her, as though it wasn't the answer he was expecting. "And do you…love him?"

She nodded, "Yes, I do."

He said nothing for a long moment, then moved over to the table, poured a large measure of the scotch into glass and drained it in one go. "So, how long then?"

"I told you…"

"How long?!" he yelled the words at her, his face going red. "How long have you been fucking him?!"

She took a step back. "Since the New Year."

"Liar."

"It's the truth."

"No, it isn't. You were fucking him long before that, weren't you? When did it start, Christina? When I got shot?"

"No, of course not! How could I have been by your side at the hospital, supported you, cared for you, if all the time I was…"

"I don't know, you tell me!" he advanced towards her. "You expect me to believe that it only started after you walked out on me?" She hesitated. "I can see it in your face. You always were a fucking terrible liar, Chris."

"Where at the photos?" she asked, desperately trying to steer the conversation back to her original purpose for being there.

"When did it start?!"

"Just before Christmas!" she heard herself reply and his eyebrows rose in surprise. "The night after you assaulted me in the pub. It just…" she thought back to that evening in Frank's office. "It just happened…"

"You wanted it to happen."

Honesty having been spoken, she found herself bound to continue. It only seemed fair after all. He was clearly hurting, and she was the cause of it. "Yes, I suppose I did. I'd had…feelings that I didn't know what to do with before that and…well…he did too. We kissed and then…the following night when we argued…here…and you threw the glass at me…I went to him for help and…" she trailed off.

"You ended up in his bed."

"Yes."

He shook his head contemptuously. "You…slut."

"You can call me what you want, Stewart, it's done now." She took a breath. "Where are the photos?" He didn't say anything. "You can trash me and my career if you want, but I won't let you trash his. He's done nothing wrong, except be there for me."

"Done nothing wrong?" He looked at her. "He's your senior officer, Chris, your direct senior officer and he's fucking you! Even I know that that's a breach of so many rules that he'll be lucky not to be bumped all the way back down to uniform!"

"Stop it…" she felt tears prick her eyes. "Just stop it. I've told you the truth, now give me the photographs."

He shook his head, "No."

"Stewart…"

"No!" he turned back to the table and poured another large measure.

"You don't have any photographs, do you?" she said, realisation suddenly dawning. "You only said that to get me here, to confront me about all of this…"

"What do you expect?" he drained the glass and then immediately poured another one. "I might not have photos this time, but I'll get them. I'll get proof about the two of you and, when I do, I swear to God I will go to your DCI, Brownlow, Area, the media…everyone."

"You're pathetic!"

"Don't call me pathetic!" he rounded on her, throwing his glass across the room where it smashed against the sink, causing her to jump. "I'm not the one dropping my knickers for my boss!"

"I'm not staying here to listen to this…" she turned towards the hallway, her heart thumping loudly in her chest, only for him to leap after her, grab her arm and pull her round to face him, causing her to cry out.

"No, we're not finished," he said, his scotch scented breath washing over her. "We still need to talk, Chris, we still need to talk…"

"I think you've said everything, don't you?" she wrenched her arm from his grip. "I think communicating through our lawyers is the best way to deal with this from now on."

"No!"

"Yes!" she moved quickly away from him towards the front door, only for him to dart around her and place himself between her and the exit. "Get out of the way."

"We're not finished!"

"Yes, we are!" As she watched, he turned the key in the lock and a knot of anxiety formed in her stomach. "Stewart, unlock the door and let me out."

"Not until we talk. Not until…not until you agree to come back."

"I'm not coming back, can't you understand that?! Even if there was nothing between me and Frank, how could I come back to…to this? To you? You need help, Stewart."

"There's nothing wrong with me that having you back wouldn't fix. Please…please come back to me…"

She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, well aware what the easy option was, and yet it wouldn't be the right option, for so many reasons. His drinking, the swinging from anger to emotion and back again…it wasn't what she wanted. He wasn't what she wanted. "No, I'm sorry. So, if you won't let me out that way…" turning she headed back towards the kitchen where the back door was located. At least it she was outside, and he persisted, it would be easier to elicit help.

She heard him behind her before she saw him and her body tensed, as if it sensed what was about to happen. What followed was a flurry, a breathless frenzy. She could hear him shouting at her, hear her own voice shouting in response, smell the almost overpowering scent of scotch as the bottle broke, feel his hands on her and hers on him and then something sharp, a sensation like she'd never felt before. Her vision blurred and, as the seconds slipped by, seemed to grow dark around the edges, like night creeping over her. Her body froze, then started to burn and she was on the floor, unable to move. It felt as though there was something sticky covering her, making it hard for her to move her limbs, and just as the darkness eclipsed her, she caught sight of something red, pooling on the ground beneath her.