"Drink?"

"No."

"You sure? I'm being all hospitable here and it seems a little unkind of you to refuse a drink."

She met Mickey Owen's gaze and tried hard not to let it waiver, despite the mild sense of panic she could feel in her chest. When Jimmy had confronted her at the car, he had insisted that she return to the salon, through the back entrance and into the room where she had previously witnessed his boss. It was small, set up with a table and chairs, at which she had been bidden to sit down, and both Mickey and his other sidekick, a man who's name she didn't know, had been inside waiting. Initially, she had felt terrified, numb with a fear that had made her follow the order she had been given rather than fight out against it, but as the time had passed, she had rationalised that Ted knew where she was and that her car was still parked outside. To be fair to him, Mickey had been nothing but friendly towards her, enquiring as to whether she had found the salon acceptable and offering her a beverage, but his tone had started to grow slightly more threatening.

She looked at the bottle sat on the table between them and shook her head. "It wouldn't look too good for a police officer to be caught drink driving now, would it?"

He laughed, "Fair point. Now, why don't you tell me why you're here."

"I thought that would have been obvious."

"Not to me."

"I had my nails done the other day and I wanted my eyebrows done today." It sounded pathetic to her own ears, and yet so normal and ordinary as to hopefully appeal to him as being the truth. "I didn't know you owned the place."

Mickey regarded her carefully. "Now, why don't I believe that?"

"I don't know."

"I know who you are, WDC Lewis, Sun Hill CID. You work with Ted Roach."

"So?"

"So, I'm betting he knows I own this place. I'm betting he's the one who sent you down here."

She shook her head, "Like I said, I had no idea."

"Don't play games with me."

"I'm not." She shifted in her seat. "Look, I came in here at your…friend's…request, but I'd like to go home now, if you don't mind."

"I do mind, actually," he looked at her. "I mind very much when coppers decide to stick their noses into places they're not welcome."

Her heart thudded wildly, but she did her best to remain calm. "Like I said, I just came here…"

"What were you hoping to see?"

"Nothing."

"You thought it was suspicious that I owned this place."

"I told you, I didn't know that you…"

"Liar!" he thumped the table, causing her to jump. "Liar, liar, pants on fire." He started laughing. "Sorry, did I give you a fright? My mistake. Come on now though, we're men and women of the world, aren't we? You know the score as well as I do. Just tell me the truth. Tell me that Ted Roach sent you in here in the hope that you would catch me up to some sort of mischief." She shook her head. "Only, all you found was that I own the place, completely legitimately, and that I like to hang out in here of an evening, isn't that right?"

She paused before answering, trying desperately to think of the right thing to say. What would Frank do if it was him in this situation? Agree, or try to talk his way out of it? Christ, she wished he was there. "I haven't seen any illegal activity, if that's what you mean."

Mickey smiled. "You want to search the place?" The question threw her slightly. "You can go ahead if you want, I don't mind."

"No, you're all right."

"I know you don't have a warrant, but if I give you my consent, it's all right, isn't it?"

"Well…"

"Isn't it?!"

She jumped again at his tone. "Yes, if a person consents to a search, then the police don't need a warrant but I'm not going to search. Something tells me, I wouldn't find anything."

"And what would you be looking for?" he asked, leaning across the table towards her. "Tell me, what is it that Ted Roach thinks I'm doing in here?"

"I don't know anything about that."

"Booze? Fags? Women? Drugs?" He shook his head. "He needs to get himself a new hobby, though as least he's gone up in the world a bit, using a proper woman rather than a man simply dressed as one, know what I mean?" He nodded over her head, and she suddenly felt arms grip her and pull her out of the chair, causing her to gasp. Mickey moved in closer to her. "You tell Ted that, next time, I'd like to see his face, rather than yours, understood?" She held her breath. "I said, is that understood?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied, hearing the slight crack in her voice, and realising he had heard it too.

"No, course you don't. Well, it was lovely to meet you in the flesh. I do hope you'll come back for regular appointments given that you found my little place so welcoming. Make sure you give my love to Ted as well now, won't you?"

The back door of the building opened, the light from the street outside seeping in, and she turned to look at it before looking back at Mickey. "That's it then?"

"What were you expecting? You thought I was going to hold you here against your will? Force myself on you or let them force themselves on you?" He gestured to Jimmy and the other man who snickered loudly. "Not really my style. Night then."

She paused, afraid to move in case it was some sort of trap. If she made to leave, what was to stop them grabbing her again and doing exactly as he had suggested? After a few seconds however, she forced her feet to move, slowly at first until she was past Jimmy and out into the alleyway, then faster as she picked up speed around the corner, running full pelt towards her car, still sitting where she had left it. Ramming the keys into the lock, she pulled the door open and jumped inside, slamming it behind her, her breath coming in bursts of exertion and fear. She tried to put the keys into the ignition, but her hand was shaking so badly that they wouldn't connect and, all of a sudden, a wave of nausea washed over her, and she opened the door again just in time to vomit onto the street.

"Shit…oh shit…" she breathed heavily, leaning back in the seat and wiping her mouth. Hot tears formed in the corners of her eyes, and she suddenly realised how utterly terrified she had been, despite the fact that Mickey had done nothing to her other than talk. What would have happened if she had been faced with a more dangerous situation? Would she had simply crumbled into a sobbing heap?

Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, she saw that it had just gone seven o'clock. Ninety minutes since she had initially left the salon. In some ways, it felt as though she had been in that back room for hours, others mere minutes. Ted would surely be wondering why she hadn't contacted him. Perhaps he had told Frank what had happened, or perhaps he would simply try to cover it himself. She suddenly felt her mind go blank. She had no idea where the nearest phone box was and her body was shivering with cold, adrenaline and shock. She longed for her flat, for the warmth and safety it would surely bring and so, gunning the engine, she slammed the gearstick into first and roared away from the kerb.

XXXX

"So, what you're telling me is, we have no idea right now where she is."

Derek's face was tight with anger and Frank found himself feeling rebuked, even though he knew, technically, he wasn't at fault. "No sir. Loxton and Quinnan went to the salon and reported that it was all closed up for the night. All the doors, front and back, were locked and there was no sign of Christina's car in the area."

"What about her flat?"

"No sign there either."

"I don't believe this," Derek muttered. "You've been acting DCI for all of three days and already there's been an unofficial operation and one of our constables has gone missing!"

"I take full responsibility…"

"Do you?!"

"Yes sir. I'm in charge of the department."

"Well, I hope that once this is all over, appropriate consequences will be brought to bear." Derek paused. "What else are we doing?"

"Uniforms are searching the area between the salon and Christina's home. Ted and Mike have gone round to Owen's place to question him, Viv, Tosh, Jim and Alistair have taken Mills and Malone, Owen's right-hand men. Mickey doesn't go anywhere without them." He could hear the words coming out of his mouth, how calm he sounded, and couldn't quite believe he was able to even string a sentence together. Since the moment Ted had told him, all he could think about was her; where she was, if she was hurt, if she was dead.

"What exactly was the interest in this salon?"

"Information had been received that Mickey had moved into selling drugs and that the salon was the basis of his operation."

"Information received from whom?"

"A snout, sir, a reliable informant."

"One of Ted Roach's informants?"

"Yes sir."

"I can imagine who." Derek shook his head. "She should have been properly briefed, wired even…"

"I'm aware of that sir."

"There should have been back-up outside!"

"Yes sir."

Derek peered at him. "You're taking this all very calmly, Frank."

"Am I sir? Trust me, it doesn't feel like that."

Derek didn't say anything for a long moment, but he could see the wheels turning. "Chris Lewis is a resourceful girl, a good officer. If she is being held against her will, then I have every confidence that she'll be able to handle herself. Let's try and not worry unnecessarily."

He opened his mouth to respond when the radio in his hand suddenly crackled. "595 to DI Burnside, over."

"Go ahead Tony."

"We've just swung by Christina's flat again, Guv. She's here."

The feeling of relief made every part of his body go limp, to the point that he thought he might actually fall to the ground if it wasn't for the wall beside him on which he was able to steady himself. "Is she all right, over?"

"She's shaken up, but unhurt, over."

"I'll be right there, Burnside out."

"Well…" Derek sighed, "All's well that ends well. I trust you will make clear to her that going off cock handed like that again is unadvisable. A dead female detective is not what Mr Brownlow, or any of us, would like for 1992."

"Yes sir," he nodded, "I'll make that clear."

"Good."

"If you'll excuse me sir…" he was desperate to get to her, and yet keen to avoid the impression that he was treating her differently to any other officer that might have been in that situation. As he made his way hurriedly down the stairs, he lifted the radio again. "All units from Burnside. WDC Lewis has been located. Everyone can stand down for now and await further instructions."

He drove slightly too quickly to Ruthvin Road, gratified to see not only her car, but the panda car parked outside. Slamming the door, he made his way up the path and rang the buzzer with Tony opening the door seconds later.

"She's fine, Guv," he pre-empted him. "She's in the kitchen with Cathy."

He moved past the other man through the flat and into the kitchen where Christina was sitting at the kitchen table, a glass of something that looked suspiciously like vodka in front of her, Cathy leaning against the far counter. "Cath."

"Sir," Cathy replied.

"Give us a minute, will you?"

"Of course," Cathy nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her.

For a moment, he simply stood watching her, trying to plan the best thing to say and the best way to say it. As he waited, she lifted the glass again and brought it to her lips, draining the last of the liquid and screwing her face up in the process. A cursory glance suggested that she had no injuries, at least none that were visible. Looking up, she met his gaze but said nothing.

He wanted to scream at her, shout about how stupid she had been, how reckless and yet instead, he found himself holding back. "Do you have any idea the position you put yourself in tonight?"

"I just went to a beauty salon, like thousand of women do every day…"

"Oh, don't give me that flannel! I know what you were doing! I know that Ted asked you to go and that you'd been before! What I don't know is why you thought, on any level, that it was a good idea to go in on your own!"

She looked away, "We thought it would be best…"

"We?"

"Ted and I."

"I see…the two of you came up with this little plan together, did you?"

"Something like that."

"And why wasn't I told?"

"Ted knew how you felt about his involvement with Mickey, and he thought you'd pull the plug if you knew."

"He was right, I would have, at least until we had a coherent and safe plan worked out as to how to approach the situation. I certainly wouldn't have sanctioned you going in on your own with only Ted in the know. And he wasn't even there! You should have told me!"

"Because you're my boss?"

"Yes!"

"No other reason?" she looked at him and he felt himself pause. "Of course, you've got your own life to lead. What I do isn't your concern, is it?" She looked away and shook her head. "You know, for a moment, I really didn't know what was going to happen in there."

He pulled out one of the other kitchen chairs and sat down opposite her. "What did Owen say?"

"He just wanted me to confirm that Ted had sent me on a quest to find something incriminating."

"And did you? Confirm it?"

"No, I just kept saying I didn't know what he was talking about. He offered to let me search the place though so I'm guessing he knew in advance I'd be there. Anything he might have had he obviously got rid of."

He clenched his jaw, "Did he touch you?"

She met his gaze again. "No."

"Did any of them touch you?"

"No."

Relief flooded through him again and then he found himself revisiting her words, "What did you mean when you said I had my own life to lead and that what you did wasn't my concern?"

"What do you think I meant? That's what you told Ted, isn't it?"

He leaned back in the seat and shook his head, it becoming clearer with every passing second that Ted had manipulated the situation more than he had originally considered. "Yeah, I suppose it is."

"Did you mean it?"

He met her gaze again and could see the question reflected in her eyes, mingled with something else that he wasn't sure he felt brave enough to give name to. "No."

The kitchen door suddenly opened, and Tony appeared, causing them both to jump. "Sorry to interrupt, but Ted's on the radio for you, Guv."

He looked back at her and then nodded, "All right." Getting to his feet, he made his way back into the living room and leaned into Tony's radio. "Burnside to Roach, over."

"Roach receiving," Ted's voice came back. "We're still waiting outside Mickey's place. What do you want us to do, over?"

He paused, weighing up the wisdom of arresting Mickey when all they had to put to him was him potentially forcing a woman to have a conversation with him. Abduction was a stretch and according to Christina, there was nothing incriminating on the premises. "Leave him alone."

"What?"

"I said, leave it. I want you in my office first thing in the morning, Ted. Burnside out. Thanks Tony."

"You want us to hang on, Guv?" Tony asked.

"No, you're all right. The two of you can get back out on patrol. Thanks for your help."

"Are you sure, sir?" Cathy asked. "I don't mind staying with Chris for a bit."

"Thanks Cath, she seems to be fine. I'll make sure she's all right before I leave." They both exchanged side glances and he could tell what they were thinking. "I said, she'll be fine."

"Guv," Tony said before he and Cathy turned and headed back out the front door, closing it softly behind them.

Once alone, he turned and made his way back into the kitchen where Christina still sat at the table. "Mind if I have one?" he gestured to the vodka bottle sat next to the kitchen sink.

"No, go ahead."

He poured himself a glass. "Got any tonic?"

"You mean you don't want to drink it neat like me? There's some in that cupboard."

The drink poured, he sat back down opposite her again. "I told Ted he was to be in my office first thing in the morning."

"I know, I heard."

"I want you there too."

"So we can both get a bollocking?"

"Something like that. I know he was the instigator and I know he's your sergeant, but you still should have had enough presence of mind to say no, even if you didn't want to tell me about it. If you want to make sergeant yourself then you need to demonstrate a little more independence of thought."

She laughed and shook her head, "Reid said something similar to me the other day. She said that, over the last six months, I had enhanced my independence of thought by coming out of your shadow. Maybe the two of you weren't so different after all."

"Don't compare me to her; you know better."

"Yeah, I suppose I do." She paused. "Do you think it's possible for us to have a reasonable conversation without it descending into a petty squabble?"

"Depends on the subject matter."

"Us."

He paused, glass halfway to mouth, and considered the word before taking a careful mouthful. "There is no us, is there?" She said nothing. "You got something more to add to what you said on the phone?"

"I meant what I said on the phone. I'm not a slag and calling me one just because of how I was dressed was horrible coming from you. Not to mention the ridiculous suggestion that I was, or ever could be, interested in Matt Boyden."

He fought back the urge to fight with her, knowing it would ultimately get them nowhere and he was past that. "All right, like I said, I'm sorry I suggested you were a slag and I'm sorry if I offended you by suggesting that you were interested in Boyden. For the record, I have never told anyone that I considered you to be loose with your favours."

"I know. I knew you would never have said that which just makes me wonder who would."

"You know what police stations are like. Hotbeds of gossip." He paused. "Will you answer me one question?"

"What?"

"Were you chatting anyone up in O'Hares'?"

She paused and then shrugged. "Depends on your definition. There was a bloke who came over to talk to me, bought me a drink, had his hand on my leg at one point." He looked away. "I was having a conversation with him, so does that count as chatting him up? I quickly realised the whole set up wasn't what I wanted and that's why I left." She paused again and looked at him squarely. "Will you answer me one question?"

"Go on."

"Are you jealous at the thought of other men finding me attractive?"

He found her gaze impossible to maintain and looked down into the glass before quickly swallowing the remains of the clear liquid and putting it back down on the table. "Yes."

"Why?"

"You said one question."

"It's an appropriate follow up question. Interview training 101."

He looked at her this time. "Why do you think?"

"Answering a question with a question, classic sign of someone looking to buy time." She blinked. "Has anything changed for you in the last six months?"

"Well, I've finally got rid of Reid, been made acting DCI…"

"Frank…"

"No, nothing's changed. What about for you?"

"No," she shook her head. "I still feel the same way I did when you walked away from me in the park. Oh, I believe I've started to move on from everything that happened, from Stewart, from the end of my marriage, from the stabbing but…as far as you're concerned…"

The knowledge was like a salve to his bruised heart. Knowing that she had continued to feel for him what he had felt for her all those months almost seemed to vindicate himself in his own eyes, that staying away from other women had been worth it, that there was a chance, after all, at some kind of happy ending. She leaned forward and stretched her hand out across the table, and he took it in his, gratified by the warm feeling of her skin.

"It was the right thing to do at the time," he said, though he wasn't quite sure who he was trying to convince.

"I know that. It was all too soon, too raw, too complicated…" she shook her head, "not that it still isn't. Complicated, that is. But I think that part of me realises now that, well, that I don't care. That the prospect of being without you but having a stellar career is worse than being with you and maybe doing my legs."

"Neither of us have done our legs," he replied, squeezing her hand, "least of all you. You go for the sergeant's exam when it comes around. I've no doubt you'll pass with flying colours and, as for me, who knows where this acting post could lead." He paused. "But, if we are going to do this, it might be an idea to take things slowly, this time around."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, right now what I really want to do is get you into bed, but something tells me that might not be the best thing right now. Been a long time since I've courted a woman."

"Courted? Now you're showing the age difference."

"All right then, when was the last time a bloke courted you?"

"Never, I suppose," she shrugged. "I'm not sure Stewart would have known what courting meant back in the day and as for us, well, being a hair's breadth away from shagging on your desk probably doesn't fit the definition either."

"No, it doesn't, much as the fantasy still gets me going on a dark night. Speaking of which," he glanced at the clock on the wall. "I should go, let you get some rest after your ordeal." He got to his feet, she followed suit and he fought down the urge to pull her to him, knowing that it would inevitably only lead in one direction. "I still want you in my office first thing for your bollocking though."

"I can't wait."

"Yeah…listen, my sister Pat's coerced me into going to hers for lunch on Sunday, bit of a family tradition that I often do my best to avoid but…well…you fancy coming along?"

Although she looked somewhat surprised, and taken aback, a smile crept across her face. "And how exactly do you propose to introduce me? Or do you operate a rota system for taking colleagues?"

"How would you like me to introduce you?"

"As the woman you're courting?"

"Reckon they'd all take the piss out of me for years if I did that," he laughed. "Besides, Pat knows who you are. I've talked about you before."

She pinked slightly. "Well, I suppose you could always just introduce me as, well, your…girlfriend?"

He liked the sound of it; liked her embarrassment at the word even more, despite the rather bizarre background of the fact that they had been gloriously intimate in the past without ever labelling it as anything. Girlfriend and boyfriend sounded so chaste somehow, not to mention quaint and old-fashioned, especially for a man in his mid-forties.

But perhaps that's what was needed.

"Girlfriend," he echoed. "I like that. Not had one of those in a long time."

"Been fifteen years since I had a boyfriend," she said softly before giggling and blushing again. "Honestly, I don't know what's wrong with me. You've had your head between my legs before and I'm getting embarrassed at calling you my boyfriend."

"Don't tempt me." Hot desire surged through him, and he moved away from her back through the sitting room towards the front door before he could act on it. "Remember, bollocking first thing. And none of your lip about it. Take it gracefully and let's move on."

"Yes Guv," she agreed, "I'll see you tomorrow."

He paused, "You sure you're all right after what happened? I could call Viv, ask her to come over and sleep on the couch?"

"No, I'm fine, really I am. Besides, it wouldn't be Viv I'd want to stay overnight." She raised her eyebrows suggestively and he felt himself harden.

"Right, I'm going," he stepped outside and made his way down the path to where he had left the car, pausing to look back before he got inside, watching her framed in the doorway. "I love you," he said, knowing that she wouldn't hear but wanting to give voice to it anyway.

Then he got into the car and drove away.