12 July 1992

She sat in the car, staring at the prison in front of her, a thousand different emotions running through her. Stewart was on the other side of those gates, behind those walls and locked doors. She wondered, as she often did, how he was coping with prison life almost one year on. Had he adapted to it, made so-called friends, and found a place for himself, or was he hounded and treated like shit like most coppers who found themselves banged up? The thought made her shiver and she wished, not for the first time, that she was there to see him, with her own eyes, rather than a slimeball like Rod Patterson.

"Don't let him unnerve you," Frank had told her that morning as she had got dressed and forced down some coffee to combat the slight throbbing in her head caused by too much gin. "It's probably what he wants more than anything."

"I can handle him," she had replied, "and if things get too difficult, I'll walk away."

"Not before you get out of him what he wants to tell us, mind," he'd said, pulling her into an embrace that she had almost resisted because of the tone of his words, then found herself melting into. "Be careful."

"I will be," she had assured him. After all, what could possibly happen to her in there? Unless Patterson was planning to take her hostage in some sort of escape attempt, it was likely to simply be nothing more than a rather awkward conversation.

"Hello love," the guard on duty greeted her, and she resisted the urge to tell him to shove his 'love' where the sun didn't shine. She would bet all she had that if a male DS had walked up, he wouldn't have called him 'love'. "I'm here to see Patterson."

"Patterson…" his eyes narrowed slightly before he looked down at his clipboard and then back up at her again. "I see…"

"You see what?"

"Nothing," he replied quickly. "I just thought you might be here to see your old man, that's all."

"My old man?"

"Stewart Church."

She paused and looked at him, torn between wondering how he knew who she was and why he thought she would be there to see her ex. "He's not my old man."

It was his turn to pause. "You are Christina Lewis, aren't you?"

"Yes, but we're divorced now, so I suppose the correct terminology would be my 'ex-old man'. Why are you asking?"

"No reason," he looked down at his board again and scored something through with his pen. "Down to room three please and I'll have Patterson brought up."

"Thanks." She made to move past him and then stopped. "Is Stewart expecting a visitor today?"

The guard paused again, "Sorry, I'm afraid I can't divulge that sort of information."

"No, of course not." Rolling her eyes slightly, she made her way along the corridor and opened the door to room three. It was like every other prison visiting room; small, dark and uninviting. As she took the seat nearest the door, she felt her foot tapping somewhat restlessly against the floor and she forced herself to make it stop. She didn't want to give Patterson the impression that she was anything other than coolly collected and ready to meet him, even if the guard's assumptions about Stewart had unnerved her slightly.

After what seemed like hours, but in reality, was mere minutes, the door at the other end of the room opened and Patterson appeared. He looked different from the last time she had seen him in court. Now he was dressed in prison issued clothing, his hair and beard were shorter and there was a greyness to his pallor. But his eyes were still beady and focused, and they fixated on her straightaway as he sat down opposite.

"Nice to see you."

"Well, I wish I could say the same but…. there we are."

"Divorce suits you."

The remark threw her and she wanted to ask how he knew then realised that, of course, he must have had some contact with Stewart. Perhaps they had even developed some sort of friendship or alliance. It was tempting to go down the personal route, but she knew better than that. "My boss told me that you had some information for us."

"So, we can't even make some small talk first? That's a shame."

"My personal life isn't why we're here."

"Isn't it?"

She paused. "You tell me."

"Like I said, divorce suits you. You look less…uptight."

"I'm not quite sure how you can say that…"

"When you were in my club, you were uptight."

"Well, I was undercover and, funnily enough, almost raped by your right-hand man." She didn't want to fall into the trap of raking over the past, but it was almost too tempting. "I think we both know what would have happened if my DI hadn't been there."

"Ah yes…your DI. I wondered when he'd come up. Frequently, as I understand it, whenever you're around." His lips curved into a knowing smile, and she realised that he was enjoying trying to make her feel uncomfortable.

"Well, that's neither here nor there…"

"Oh, from what I hear, it's very much here."

"What do you mean?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"I mean, as far as I understand it, you and your DI are horizontal together most of the time." He sat back and shook his head. "Your poor husband."

"Ex-husband."

"Whatever."

"Look, do you have information that you want to pass on or not?"

"Would you speak to Ryan?"

"What?"

"Ryan. Would you speak to him like you're speaking to me?"

Another shiver went through her body. "No. I doubt he's got anything to say that I'd want to hear. Rape and murder aren't exactly…"

"You think he'd have murdered you?" Patterson interrupted.

"Yes, and you would have let him, encouraged him even. All because of some petty feud with my…ex…husband."

"Petty feud…" Patterson shook his head. "You've no idea, darling, do you? You've no clue what your…ex…husband was involved in before he, unfortunately, turned his back on the wrong person."

"I don't…"

"Two years ago now, wasn't it? A dark night out on police operation…lucky to survive he was. A little more to the left and…boom…it might have been lights out, all out, for DS Church. Sorry, the now ex DS Church."

She sat forwards in her chair. "You're talking about the night Stewart was shot. Are you saying that you were involved?"

"Not me, darling. But I might have an inkling. They never did catch whoever was responsible, did they?" His eyes roamed across her face. "Of course, you might need to talk to Ryan to get the full story."

She felt herself blink rapidly. "He was in jail when Stewart was shot. He couldn't have had anything to do with it."

Patterson laughed. "Do you really think that just because a person's in jail that means they don't still have reach…influence…on the outside? Come on, you can't be that naïve."

"Of course I understand that but…"

"I reckon if you talk to Ryan, you'll find all the answers that you need. Might be a nice thing for you to do for your ex, don't you think? Find the person, or people, responsible for forcing him out of the job. Might be a nice way for you to make amends for what you and your DI were up to behind his back."

"Being stabbed in the back by him wasn't punishment enough?"

"Crime of passion, darling. Could happen to us all." Patterson got to his feet. "Ryan's in Wandsworth, in case you didn't know. I doubt he gets many visitors, so I reckon he'd be delighted to see you."

"What do you get out of all this?" she asked, as he made his way back over to the door. "I mean, you've told me literally nothing. If you think that anything you've said today warrants you getting any kind of special dispensation…"

"Who said I wanted anything but to see your pretty face again?" he replied mockingly. "I might be seeing your ex later. Anything you'd like me to pass on?"

She found herself poised to ask him to tell Stewart that she wanted to visit him, wanted to see him face to face and discuss all the things they had never had the chance to. But then she realised that that was no doubt precisely what Patterson wanted; some sort of control or influence and, besides, who knew what sort of relationship, if any, Stewart had with him. "No, you're all right, thanks."

"Suit yourself," he shrugged, knocking on the door. "Congratulations, by the way."

"On what?"

He smiled as the door opened and slipped out without replying.

XXXX

"Ryan?"

"Yes."

"Ryan Brown?"

"Yes."

"Ryan Brown the attempted rapist, attempted murderer, bent copper, that Ryan Brown?"

"Yes!"

"All right Frank," Jack shifted in his chair. "Do you think he was being genuine?"

"Of course he's not being genuine!" he exclaimed. "He's being a no-good shit stirrer who clearly only wanted to get her there to try and get to her!"

"Why would he want to do that?" she asked, turning to look at him. "What would he have to gain?"

"Make you feel uncomfortable, make you re-live what happened back then, generally get his kicks, you name it!"

"If Ryan knows information that might help catch who shot Stewart…"

"Do you think he was being genuine?" Jack asked again.

"Well, I don't know, Guv, but I don't feel as though I can pass up the chance to try and help catch whoever it was, even if the information needs to come from a dickhead like Ryan."

"Why do you even care who shot Stewart?" he heard himself ask, before quickly realising it might not have been the most sensitive question to ask. She looked at him, her eyes widening slightly as she did so. "I'm sorry, but…"

"Because whoever did shoot him started in motion a sequence of events that led him to where he is now," she replied, "And I, along the way, was a casualty of that too!"

"Was there an investigation into Stewart's shooting?" Jack asked.

"I'm not entirely sure. His DCI at the time, Alan Baker, really wouldn't tell me anything. I know DI Wray tried to have a word but, as far as I know, they had no leads and no suspects."

"That does surprise me," Frank muttered.

"I was never interviewed," she continued, as though she hadn't heard him. "And I was so caught up in what happened at the time that I never really connected anything between what happened to me with what happened to him. I think those investigating just assumed I wouldn't know anything."

"Mmmm…" Jack pondered. "Technically, it's not a Sun Hill operation. Any information obtained would need to be handed over to whoever still holds the case."

"Precisely," Frank said, "and what would be the point in that?"

"The point would surely be finding out who did it!" she replied harshly.

"It's not going to change anything though, is it?" he insisted. "I mean, it's not as though knowing who was responsible is going to get Stewart out of jail any quicker."

"I'm not looking for him to get out of jail any quicker. I just think it's important to find out who pulled the trigger and why!"

"And what if this is all just some game to get you to go and see Ryan and let him have his fun with you?"

"He's hardly going to be able to attempt to rape me in a prison visiting room."

"No? You'd be surprised what slags like him can do given the opportunity. But I was talking more psychologically. You don't need this right now."

"Because you're an expert on what I need, Guv?"

"Right, I think we all need to calm down here," Jack said, getting to his feet and looking between them. "Chris, I would never ask you to do anything that you didn't feel comfortable doing. If you think that seeing this Ryan bloke wouldn't be the best idea, then I would support that. It's no skin off my nose if nobody ever finds out who shot your ex-husband."

"I'll second that," Frank replied.

"But it's your call."

She looked between them, her gaze resting longer, and more defiantly, on him. "I want to do it, Guv. It might be a game and it might lead nowhere, but I'd feel as if I'd failed in some way if I didn't at least try."

"All right then," Jack nodded. "Set it up."

"You're out of your tree," Frank said, making his way back into his office, her at his heels. "Why on earth you would want to go and see that cretin is beyond me."

"I've already explained…"

"Yes, so you did. Well, forgive me for thinking that your loyalties are somewhat misplaced. I don't want you anywhere near Ryan, and you've no need to be."

"I don't expect you to understand…"

"Good. I don't."

"But I do expect you to respect my decisions."

"What, even when they're bad ones?"

"Yes!" She sighed. "If what happened to Stewart had happened to Julie, and you had the chance to find out who was responsible, wouldn't you take it?"

He paused, knowing that she had him there. Despite everything he felt about his ex-wife, he would never have wanted anyone to physically harm her and, if they had and he'd had the power to do something about it, he knew he would have taken it.

"Exactly," she said. "I'll be fine."

"I should come with you."

"I don't think that's a very good idea. What if he won't tell me anything if you're there? Or what if it just aggravates the situation?"

"Aggravate? Me?" She raised her eyebrows at him. "Well, if I can't come in, at least let me be outside."

"Outside as in…?"

"The corridor."

"The car?"

"I might as well just stay here if you're going to be like that about it."

"Well…" she looked at him pointedly. "Your concern is very attractive, but I think I can manage." He felt himself harden just looking at her, at the memory of her sprawled on the bed the previous night, her warm, wet scent intoxicating him as he had lain beside her. "You know, he congratulated me."

"Who?" he asked, pulling himself back into the moment,

"Patterson. He said, 'congratulations, by the way'."

"Congratulations for what?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Being promoted? I mean, what else could it have been? It's not as if he'd know we were getting married."

"No," he replied, his mouth suddenly going dry and a chill sweeping over him. "No, of course not."

"Weird," she shrugged. "Anyway, I'm going to call Wandsworth, see if I can't get in to see Ryan either later today or first thing tomorrow."

She was gone before he could say anything else and he sat down slowly at his desk, his mind whirring over the incomprehensible. Stewart and Patterson couldn't be friends. The animosity, the fact that Patterson would have happily stood by whilst Stewart's wife was raped and murdered made it impossible to conceive of them being friends. And yet…what if, somehow, they were aligned? What if Stewart had told Patterson about their ongoing relationship, their engagement? It was a ridiculous notion and one that he tried to push to the back of his mind during the course of the next few hours, but it refused to go away.

"I can't get in until tomorrow," she returned to his door later that afternoon. "Something about staff shortages."

"Maybe you should have left it a few days, so it doesn't look as though you're desperate."

"And just spend any time between now and then thinking about it? No, I'd rather just get it done, then I don't have to ever see him again."

"You don't have to see him at all."

"Don't start." She paused. "Say I did find out something, something that led to the identification and arrest of whoever shot Stewart…do you think he'd want to see me?"

"Who?"

"Stewart. Do you think he would let me visit him?" She looked at him with a hopeful expectation in her eyes that he hated, and feared, in equal measure.

"I don't know, maybe," he replied non-comittally. "I suppose he would at least owe you a thank you."

"Mmm…" she turned away back towards her desk, and he watched her go, hating that she might be on the brink of finding out what had happened. Perhaps he should just be honest now, tell her about his visit to Stewart and hope that she would understand. But, if he did, he would have to tell her why he had been there and given that she still seemed keen to see her ex again, he could only assume that she would be far from happy at the knowledge he had surreptitiously prevented it.

XXXX

"So, this might be a silly question," Viv said later that day as they stood in front of the mirror in the ladies' toilet together, "but are you having a hen do?"

"Oh…uh…no," she replied with a short laugh. "I think that might be a bit suspicious, don't you?"

"What about a general night out then, just the girls?"

"And pretend it's not a hen do?"

"Exactly."

"I'm not sure…"

"Why not? Everyone's supposed to have at least one good night out before they get married. Didn't you have a hen do last time around?"

"Not really?"

"Not really?"

"Well, I mean I went to the pub with a few of my friends, but we were all nineteen, twenty, no money…and most of them couldn't really understand why Stewart and I were getting married in the first place." She paused and smiled ruefully. "Not too dissimilar from now when you think about it." Viv said nothing. "But I suppose a few drinks down the pub would be all right."

"Good, I'll talk to the others, just suggest it as a night out to blow off some steam and see who's up for it. I promise I won't bring any sashes or blow-up dolls."

"You almost sound sorry about it."

"I suppose I am, in a way. Sorry for you, that is."

She felt herself bristle at her friend's words. "I don't need you to feel sorry for me, Viv. I'm marrying the man I'm in love with and that's a cause for celebration, not regret…even if it does have to be kept secret."

"If you say so," Viv replied. "Anyway, I heard you're going to see that Ryan bloke tomorrow in Wandsworth."

"Yeah, apparently he might have some information about who shot Stewart."

Viv looked at her. "And you need to find that out, do you?"

"Well surely someone should."

"But you?"

"You sound like Frank," she shook her head. "He's been trying to convince me not to go ever since the whole idea was suggested. Reckon he thinks Ryan's going to pin me down over the desk in the visiting room and have his way with me."

"It could happen, you know."

"Oh, don't you start…"

"The bloke's a psycho!"

"I can take care of myself. Besides, any information that might help find who's responsible can only be information worth getting."

"Will it make you feel less guilty? If you solve the crime?"

She paused and looked at herself in the mirror again. "Maybe. For all the things he did and the way he was towards me…I did still cheat on him when he was, what some people might call, vulnerable." Perhaps it wasn't about helping Stewart after all. Perhaps it was, as Viv had stated quite plainly, a way to assuage her feelings of guilt about the whole sorry mess. Would she feel better about the choices she had made, the choices she was still making, if she could come up with the gunman? "Maybe if I am able to help solve the case, he might agree to see me."

Viv leaned back against the washbasins. "Would you tell him if you saw him? About you and the DI that is?"

"I don't know, maybe. Maybe he'd feel better about it knowing that I had left him for someone I then went on to marry rather than it just being a fling."

"How would that make him feel better?"

"I don't know, I just would like to think that it would." She ran her fingers through her hair. "I want him to be able to eventually get on with his life, the way I'm getting on with mine."

"Right," Viv replied, in a tone that implied so much but which she chose not to engage with. It felt exhausting sometimes, trying to justify her feelings and her choices to other people. In a way, she was beginning to regret saying anything to the other woman at all.

As she made her way back along the corridor, she bumped into Jack coming out of Monroe's office. "I hear you've set things up to see Ryan at Wandsworth tomorrow."

"Yes Guv, first thing."

"Well, just tread carefully. We want the information, if he's got any, but we don't want to give him the impression that we're desperate for it."

"No Guv."

"And given your history with him, try and keep off the subject of anything personal. You're there as a police officer seeking information about a crime, not to talk about your ex-husband." She nodded and he looked at her carefully. "You really don't have to do this if you don't want to. I know Frank's not in favour."

"I know, but I want to do it. I want to try and find out anything I can that might help and if it turns out it's just some sick game…" she shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, I trust you to say and do all the right things," he patted her on the shoulder. "Let's hope it's just a quick in and out."

"Yeah," she nodded in agreement. "Let's hope." Back at her desk, she finished up the few tasks that she had as the day drew to a close and finally stood up, putting her personal items back into her handbag, suddenly feeling Ted's eyes on her from across the desk. "What?" she asked, meeting his gaze.

"Be careful tomorrow," he said. "I hear you're going to visit Ryan."

"Good news travels fast. I didn't realise it was posted on the noticeboard."

"Oh, come on, I'm only saying…"

"No, you come on!" she snapped. "Does everyone in this nick think I'm completely incapable or something? All right, the man tried to rape me during an undercover operation more than three years ago! I don't think that renders me unable to sit across from him in a prison visiting room!" Ted said nothing. "I'm sorry, but you're the third person today who's tried to suggest that I'm making some sort of mistake by doing this."

"The others being…?"

"Viv….and Frank."

"Well, they're just concerned for you, we all are. Frank especially."

"I don't need everyone to be concerned for me. Would there be all this hullaballoo if you were going? Or Jim or Tosh…?"

"If Ryan had tried to sexually assault one of us, probably yes."

"Well, all any of this is succeeding in doing is making me more anxious about it than if all of you had just said nothing!" she zipped her bag shut viciously. "And if I'm sure if anything does happen tomorrow, you'll all take great pleasure in saying that you told me so."

"No…"

"Oh…just forget it." Lifting her bag, she hurriedly made her way out of the office and along the corridor, only to come face to face with Frank coming in the opposite direction. "Don't start!"

"Start what?" he asked. "I haven't said anything yet."

"Yeah, and don't bother. I don't need you having another go about tomorrow, ok?"

"I wasn't going to…"

"Yeah, and the rest!" Pushing past him, she started making her way down the stairs, pausing only when he called her name. "What?"

"I'll come over later."

"No," she shook her head, realising it was the last thing she wanted or needed. "Don't bother."