As expected, logic had been there ready and waiting when Boyd had awoken the following morning, and it hadn't been happy with him. He'd woken to the bed warm yet empty beside him and taken a few seconds to remember why he was even in the guest room to begin with while sleep was blinked away. The rich scent of coffee drifted up the stairs. Boyd tried to reason with himself throughout his shower and the time it took him to dress – a black suit with a white shirt. He'd wanted her, there wasn't any getting away from that; he'd wanted her desperately for months, but Sapphira was over three decades younger than him. Boyd wasn't any stranger to a bit of an age gap in a relationship, but surely he had to draw a line somewhere. If Grace ever found out, she'd chastise him like a little boy who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He'd let Sapphira stay in his home; he'd taken care of her and fed her, and then he'd fucked her. 'I took advantage, right?' The gray-haired man questioned himself.

Once dressed, Boyd slipped downstairs to find Sapphira in the kitchen flipping pancakes in his shirt like she'd not had – rather fantastic – sex with a man old enough to be her father. 'Luke' his mind pointed out as it stumbled to a halt for a second, 'She's younger than Luke.'

"Morning!" Green eyes twinkled up at him as she rocked up onto her tiptoes to kiss the corner of Boyd's mouth. "Hope you're hungry because I think I made too many. Coffee?"

"Em, yeah."

He simply watched her carry on with breakfast. She grabbed the well-used French press, filled a blue cup, and added a little sugar, then pressed it into his hand, all while he simply stared at her. All the thoughts he'd had since waking up either hadn't dawned on her or Sapphira simply hadn't cared.

"Something wrong? Don't you like pancakes? I'm afraid your fridge is basically empty again, and pancakes don't need that much."

Breakfast? She thought his breakfast options bothered him.

"No – yes. Yes, I do like pancakes. I'll go shopping later."

"Okay," nodded the beauty dressed in his shirt as she loaded plates with pancakes. Those green eyes soon found him though. "Are you okay, Boyd?"

Plates forgotten, Sapphira took his cup and set it aside so she could wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss. She tasted of coffee already, and his large hands quickly found her backside poorly hidden by his shirt. So supple and sweet, so affectionate – 'Thirty-two years, Boyd!' He pulled back causing a worried expression to settle on her face.

"I shouldn't be doing this." Boyd said with his brow furrowed deep. "You're twenty-five. You're just a kid! This was wrong. I shouldn't have – I took advantage of you." Brown eyes finally noticed the heartbroken expression on her face, and it made him want to run. "I need to go to work."

Fleeing wasn't something he was proud of, but it was what he chose to do. Boyd just snatched up his keys and rushed out of his own home, leaving behind coffee, pancakes, and a marvellous young woman wearing little save for his shirt.

Coward, that was the word that circled around inside his head all day, leaving him snapping at the team and yelling at Eve when results hadn't come through fast enough for his liking. Maybe that therapist he'd seen way back when had been right; maybe he did wake up miserable every morning. No. No, he'd stopped waking up miserable the same week Sapphira had come to stay with him, and that realization only made Boyd angrier. Just when he'd started to calm down, Grace had arrived to give him a report on what she'd learnt from her second interview with Sapphira whether he wanted it or not.

"She's extremely resilient, that's for sure. Although, I'd like to see her again. She clearly doesn't open up an iota to people she doesn't fully trust or who aren't fully trusted by those she does trust. Sapphira trusts you implicitly, and you trust me. I think I'll stand a better chance of helping her to begin with."

Boyd tried to keep the curiosity off his face but couldn't quite manage it. "Why – why does she trust me so much? Is it because I let her stay with me?"

Grace shook her head. "No. Well, it's a little bit that, but mostly it's that you've proven to her that you're a good man she can rely on to be there for her. I saw the way she rushed to you during the interview. Boyd, she was in your lap; clearly, you are a source of safety and comfort for her now. You're probably the first person she's actually trusted since Donovan Padmore died."

That had the bottom drop out of him. He was supposed to represent safety and comfort, yet he'd bedded her then rejected her as though it were all Sapphira's fault.

"Boyd, what's going on? This isn't like your normal level of irritation. Something happened, didn't it?"

"Doesn't matter."

Grace folded her arms over her chest; she'd not be rebuffed so easily. "Clearly it does. The only person on the team you've not screamed at yet today is me, and I think you're gearing up for that now. What happened? Is it Saph?"

Boyd rested his elbows on his desk with his face in his hands. He'd regretted what he'd said to Sapphira the second he'd clambered into his Audi but had no idea how to go back and apologize. Now Grace was there, looming over him expectantly, and Boyd wanted the whole day to just piss off.

"I -" No, he couldn't. Maybe another day, but not there and then. Boyd lifted his head up and leaned back in his chair, refusing to crack under Grace's gaze. "It doesn't matter. Get out of my office."

The older woman sighed deeply but did as asked. A detective superintendent shouldn't have been running a team of four in a quiet corner of the police, but Boyd always had to fight with people, so he'd ended up as both head of the Cold Case Unit and its guard dog. That was something Grace knew all too well, and she'd long ago been forced to accept there wasn't any changing him. Sapphira had clearly been at the centre of whatever had upset him, so maybe she'd stand a chance of soothing his temper where Grace had failed.

~X~

In their quest for more leads on the Callaghans – or Daniels as they'd become – the team had reached out to various departments revolving around identification without much luck. If the Callaghans and Daniels were one and the same, the surname had likely been ditched as soon as they'd bugged out. However, just when the well had started to run dry, a genealogist by the name of Conrad Randall had contacted Grace to offer his assistance. They'd spoken via email for a few days before graduating to actual phone calls, and, in that time, Grace had decided that genealogy might have been a decent angle to try. Adam Callaghan would have been about thirty by this point and could have had a family of his own. Also, Elizabeth was British-Asian, which would have narrowed perimeters a little. To be perfectly honest, Grace didn't actually expect that much, but it might have helped them rule out some avenues of investigation simply by proving the family had an extensive and traceable line. With Stella's help, Grace had organized everything that Mister Randall would need to know in order to conduct his search, then emailed it all over to him. If his website was to be believed, Conrad Randall was something of a genius when it came to genealogy, and Grace hoped taking a chance would do them good.

"Should we maybe have told Boyd before sending all of that?" Stella questioned with a glance over her shoulder to Boyd's office. "He didn't authorize an outside contractor."

"An outside contractor?" Spence chuckled. "It's a genealogist, not a hired gun. Don't worry about it, Stella; everything'll be fine. We've got literally nothing new to go on, and if Sapphira Callaghan wasn't quite so damn pretty and a little girl wasn't dead, Boyd would have let us put this case back on a shelf so we could look at a new one."

"That sounded almost nihilistic, Spence." Grace commented as she perched on the desk between Stella and Spence. "If they are alive, then there's a killer and accomplice running around in the world, and three young women are still being viciously abused."

"That's my point, though. We aren't even sure they are alive. Jade Mooney could have been wrong; Adam isn't an uncommon name, and she might have misheard Sapphira's. Hell, she could have just embellished her own memory."

Stella didn't look convinced for a moment. "Come on, Spence, you can't really think that. We already determined how unlikely it was that five bodies completely burnt up. They can't have been in the house. If they're not in the house, then they have to be somewhere."

The man clad in a mix of black and dark greens fell back in his chair and reached for his tea only to find it cold. Their job was to evaluate cold cases and assess how likely they were to be solved with a new investigation. It wasn't as though Spence liked giving up, he just didn't see a good chance of solving this one, and other cases shouldn't have been forced to wait any longer than they already had.

"Spence," began Grace as the constant voice of reason. "How about we let Conrad Randall work his magic for a while and, if we get nothing useful, I'll talk to Boyd about letting us move on to a new case. Would that be all right? He's kept us reviewing other cases, so he's not blind to the fact we have very little to go on and might have to box it up."

"Okay." The black man sighed deeply. "I suppose that's good enough for now. It's just that I don't like the feeling of being followed."

Both women frowned as they shared a look, but it was Grace who actually questioned it.

"What do you mean? You think somebody is following you?"

"Oh, I don't know. Last few days have just felt odd, I guess. Like there are eyes on me every time I leave the damn HQ. Maybe it's just stray tabloids who haven't had much to print lately trying to figure out where Sapphira is."

"You should talk to Boyd about it."

"And say what, Stella? Besides, he couldn't do anything about it, and he'd probably be pleased they were trying to follow me instead of him. He's the one living with her after all."

The man had a decent enough point, and there honestly wasn't much to be done about the press when they chose to get in the way without actually arresting them for obstruction. Still, it was good Spence hadn't kept it to himself and Grace made certain to tell him that. Frankie had been attacked in the lab once, Mel had died, Boyd had been stabbed twice in the side, Spence himself had been shot and would have died had Boyd not made it in time. They couldn't risk more tragedy by being complacent.

~X~

The workday eventually had to end and force Boyd to return home. He'd sat in front of his garage for a full ten minutes lost in thought before he'd finally headed up the steps and into his house. Part of him had terrifyingly expected to find it empty, but instead he found Sapphira in the kitchen. Had she not been dressed in black jeans and an oversized sweater he'd given her, Boyd might have thought she'd been there since that morning.

Unsure of what to say, Boyd just stood in the doorway for a few moments while she sliced vegetables; it was at that moment he remembered he's said he'd go shopping. She had to know he was behind her, yet she had refused to look at him.

"I'm sorry."

Those words didn't really make up for the way he'd treated her, but Boyd wasn't very good at expressing his emotions at the best of times and wasn't sure what else to say.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Sapphira's voice was so quiet and heartbroken that he surged forward to force her to look at him. Those dazzling green eyes had faded back to the sad and lonely things they'd been when she'd first appeared at his office. Boyd's anger grew but was focused entirely on himself.

"No! No, I don't want you to go anywhere." Insisted the suit-clad man. "I just -" He sighed. "I just didn't want to take advantage of you. I brought you here to keep you safe, not to fuck you, Sapphie. Am I even still allowed to call you that?"

"Of course you can still call me Sapphie." A hand stretched up to cup his cheek, her thumb brushed across his five o'clock shadow, and, just for a moment, everything bad in the world faded away. "You've not taken advantage of me, Boyd. In fact, you've treated me better than just about everyone I've ever met. You're blunt and snap at people all the time; you can be arrogant and egotistical, but you're not a bad guy." Her hand slipped away from his cheek then as her eyes found the floor between their feet. "Maybe it was me. I shouldn't have kissed you. I mean, I'm just a silly little girl."

"Don't talk about yourself like that!" Boyd snapped. "You're nothing of the sort." He grabbed Sapphira by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. "You're kind and smart and far braver than I am. You have never been a silly little girl, Sapphie. You're – You're precious and beautiful."

Nobody had ever called her precious before, and it had actually taken Sapphira by surprise. Green eyes had again flooded with the brightness Boyd had come to treasure, and then he was kissing her again. Strong arms hoisted her up onto the kitchen counter and forced her legs apart so he could stand between them. Sapphira was much too good for him, but everything about her enticed him ever so much. Then, as quickly as it had all begun, a pan full of rice had started to boil over and ended what might have been.

He'd scurried off to his room to change into something that wasn't a suit just to put some space between them. How she'd managed to cobble together yet another meal from his depleted pantry, Boyd wasn't quite sure, but he couldn't let it go to waste the way the pancakes had. So, the pair had sat at the dining table to eat the stir-fried rice she'd made and chatted like nothing had ever happened until bed.

Boyd had lain there well into the night, staring at his ceiling. Being with Sapphira would be inappropriate on a handful of levels, and he knew it. Not only was he three decades older than her, he was also the policeman in charge of her family's case, a family that had left her with trauma and basically had full financial control over her since it was stay with him or go back to the streets. That was why he'd been sure he'd taken advantage of Sapphira, but she'd been so certain when she'd said he hadn't. A long sigh escaped him as he rolled onto his side. Sapphira would surely soon realize she could do better than a grumpy middle-aged cop; Boyd just had to ignore his want for her until then.

~X~

Grace was revered in her profession and had a string of adulated books for a reason; she was a damn fine psychiatrist. So picking up on Boyd's dodgy behavior hadn't taken more than ten minutes; talking to him about it was the thing that had taken a while. Still, Grace wasn't the sort to give up so easily and had simply confronted him with a stern expression until he'd finally caved. Boyd leaned on his desk for a few seconds as a deep sigh escaped him. His version of interrogation mostly consisted of yelling and assaulting people with facts; meanwhile, Grace's came with a calm reassurance that had confessions slipping free like a sieve trying to hold water.

"I might have … slept with Sapphira."

"You did what?!" Grace sputtered before slamming his office door shut. Boyd collapsed into his desk chair, fully aware of the lecture he was about to get. "Boyd, what in the hell were you thinking? Sapphira is a vulnerable woman who has experienced deep trauma; she's also thirty years your junior – thirty-two years, to be specific."

"Please don't be specific," mumbled the gray-haired man while he dragged both hands down his face.

"Well, I think we need to be specific about it, Boyd. I'm not trying to suggest you coerced her or anything like that; I know you're not that sort of man, but this can't be ignored. She's far too young for you and involved in an active case. Let's not even mention how much emotional and physical trauma she's gone through. You should know better."

"Grace, I'm kicking myself enough already, and I don't need you fucking hounding me about it. I know everything you're already going to say and I don't need to hear it. I'm not stupid. It wasn't like I planned it, and I should damn well hope you know I'd never coerce a woman into sex! I'm not like that! All I – I just -"

Boyd cut himself off in favor of resting his head in his hands while Grace's unimpressed expression shifted to a slightly more concerned one; she worried her lip.

"You just what, Boyd?" He looked up intent on shrugging Grace off but never got the chance. "No, go on and say it. Just tell me, Boyd."

"I care about her, okay? I – I just care about her."

For several moments silence dominated the room; back was that heavy blanket that threatened to crush the weak and guilty. Boyd was correct; he'd already overthought everything Grace instinctively wanted to say, and she could see that plainly. They'd known each other a very long time and trusted one another unreservedly despite their little spats. Still, Grace didn't feel this was something she could leave ignored.

"Oh Boyd." His name slipped out alongside a little sigh. "It's wonderful you want to protect her, and I commend you for that, but you have to understand there's a difference between caring for somebody who's in need and building a relationship with that person. Sapphira is a nice girl, but she's never had anyone she can really rely on before, and it's wrong to muddy the lines between temporary and something more. She's twenty-five years old, Boyd. The two of you are entirely different people, totally different generations. Just mildly caring about her won't stop this blowing up in your face." Grace tried to stress those words without lecturing her friend and boss. "I understand the desire to protect her, and it must be flattering to have a young and very attractive woman interested in you, but things will change once this case ends, and she will be the one hurt because of it. If you actually care, I know you won't want that to happen." Another half-hearted sigh escaped her. "Boyd, this can't go on. It isn't something that can last."

"Don't you think I know that, Grace?!" He protested with that almost stereotypical Boyd growl. "Sex. It was just sex."

Grace's arms folded over her chest. "Hmm, are you sure about that? The way you're acting doesn't make it sound like it was just sex."

"Leave it!" Boyd warned. "It just happened. I know it shouldn't have, but it did. Leave it alone. Last thing I need is you psychologically ripping the whole situation apart."

"Okay, okay, I get it." Her hands raised in a sign of surrender. "Have you told her nothing else can happen, though?"

A large hand combed through gray hair as Boyd leaned back in his chair so a sigh could escape him – he really did sigh too much. "Yeah. I – I snapped at her the other morning. I upset her, but… I think she gets it. I'm pretty sure she gets it."

"Pretty sure isn't good enough, Boyd." Oh, he hated that he knew Grace to be right. "Sapphira deserves to know exactly what's going on; she's part of this as well."

Boyd fixed the older woman with a firm expression. "She gets it. I know she gets it. Sapphie isn't stupid."

"I never suggested she was."

"Isn't there a report or something you could be doing instead of grilling me?"

An apathetic laugh escaped the psychologist in a puff of breath. "There are a lot of things I could be doing; it's not like I sit in my office all day twiddling my thumbs. I only came in here to check on you because you've been acting so bizarrely."

"I've not been acting bizarrely."

"Yes, Boyd, you have. Now I know why. You're beating yourself up over having sex with a woman three decades younger than you."

"Please, God, stop pointing that out." Boyd practically begged.

Boyd might not have been a bumbling buffoon, but Grace was the smart one out of the two of them and knew he'd about had enough. He wasn't a bad person, just sometimes thought a little too much with his downstairs brain.

"I won't tell the others or anyone else. However, you need to be professional and actually talk to Sapphira properly rather than just assuming she understands the situation. Talk to her; she deserves that much at the very least." Grace shrugged. "Perhaps Sapphira did just think it was casual sex, but maybe she didn't, and if she didn't, then you're going to hurt her. Just think about it, Boyd."

Thankfully, as though angels had answered his prayers, Grace departed his office after that, leaving Boyd to stare at his walls almost like a lion in a cage. Why did Grace always have to be right? Talking to Sapphira properly was the only correct choice, the adult thing to do. However, he'd not appreciated the inference that Sapphira was ultimately little more than a consequence of a mid-life crisis. Boyd hadn't slept with her because he needed to feel young again or because she'd flattered his ego; he'd slept with her because he'd not been able to stop thinking about her in over a month.

Stella knocking on his door pulled him from his inner debate sometime later and allowed that mind of his to focus on some actual work. Boyd made a mental note to praise Stella later; she'd done a good job.