Thanks, Jess! Enjoy this next chapter!

Andrea settled into a more comfortable position as she stared out into the rain. It was only just gone seven and she'd been awake since five, and unable to sleep, had gotten up, leaving Smithy sleeping peacefully. She'd first put on the television, but worried the nose would wake him and Kirsty, and so sat on the sofa, flickering through old family photographs, chronicling her growing up in her village; riding horses, picnics with her family and swimming in the Loch. Back when everything had been so simple, back before Kit. If only they'd never gone to South America… The bedroom door opened and Smithy came out, giving her a smile. Even though she didn't much feel like it, she smiled too; that was the thing about him, he could always make her feel happier just by doing that. The previous night, he'd offered to stay on the sofa to give her space but she'd wanted him with her.

"Hey," she said. "Tea?"

"I'll do it," he said and held out his hand for her mug which she gave him, glancing outside, and sighing at the rain. "Got any good board games?"

She gave him a slight smile. "Cards?"

He laughed at that. They'd done that a lot when they'd first started spending time together; passing the time by playing card games. Sometimes, it could get quite competitive.

"Let's see if you've improved at blackjack," he said and her mouth fell open in mock outrage.

"Rude," she said and shifted. "Aside from cards, we need to do something about the lack of food, or we'll be eating cold baked beans."

He gave her a worried look as he poured milk into their mugs.

"You can't go shopping yourself," he said. "And, well, I don't think leaving Kirsty alone is a good idea either."

"No," she said. "Maybe I can see if Jenny or someone won't mind dropping some bits around, though I would rather not have anyone else in Kit's firing line."

"Or I can ask Gina to stay with Kirsty and we go?"

"Yeah, maybe," she said and he came to sit beside her, glancing at the photo album.

"Can I see?"

"Sure," she said and placed the book on his lap. He flicked through the photos, smiling at her younger self, sitting on her dad's shoulders, playing in the Loch with her mother and various school pictures.

"This is where you grew up?" he asked, looking at one of her when she was maybe thirteen, sitting in a churchyard.

"Yeah," she said and looked at it fondly. "It's called Glendarroch."

He gave her a blank look and she had to laugh; everyone gave her that look, even some people from Scotland itself.

"It's a small village; small hotel, village hall, church, corner shop and post office. The last two are in the same building, by the way. Population maybe 200 people."

"It looks quite…I don't know, isolated."

"Yeah, I suppose it is," she said and glanced down at them. "It's right on Loch Lomond, you'd have to drive to be able to get anywhere. The buses there aren't like what they are here. You'd be lucky to get one every few hours."

"I'd like to see it," he said. "I mean, if you'd take me."

She blinked and he wished the words back; there he went again. He couldn't help it though; imagining a future with her.

"Sorry."

"For what?" she said softly. "I'd love to take you there. If you'd like to come."

"Then we will," he said. "When he's locked up where he belongs."

She smiled and her eyes brightened. "Just ignore Mrs Mack."

"Who?"

"Your typical nosy old gossip," Andrea said. "Face like a bulldog sucking on a lemon. Tell her anything and it'll reach the Highlands in half an hour. The last thing I need is for her to get any wind of this Kit business."

"Oh," he said, putting an arm around her. "So, if I want the real details of a little Andrea…"

"Lies," she said and he raised an eyebrow. "Well, grossly exaggerated. Though, yes, I did climb a tree, thinking I could fly and broke my arm."

"Seriously?" he said, laughing.

"Seriously," she said. "I was only about five."

"Climbing trees at five?" he said and she shrugged.

"There wasn't much else to do, really, as you said; it's very isolated. Climbing trees and swimming in the Loch was about as much excitement as we could get as little kids."

"Yeah, it seems like the sort of place where not a lot happens."

"Oh, don't be so sure," she said. "Even the smallest villages can hide the biggest secrets."

"Oh?" he said, closing the book and setting it aside. "Do tell. I love a good bit of history."

"There were a family who moved there," she said. "When I was about 12 or so, parents and two kids, a boy and a girl. Gary and Trish. She was about my age, we went to the same school. Nice, normal family; Gary was a bit of a troublemaker, but what 14 year old isn't?"

"True," he said and took a drink, waiting for her to go on.

"Well, a few years after they moved there, Sadie, their mum was killed in a hit and run. Drunk driver. Trish and I were working when her dad came to tell her. We were waitresses at the hotel in the area. They took her aside to tell her of course, but we all heard her scream. I've never forgotten it."

"Did they catch the driver? I mean, they had to, you said he was drinking…"

"They caught him," she said. "Not that he served very long. I think it was the beginning for her."

"Of what?"

"Well life goes on, doesn't it? I left not long after to go travelling and when I came back, her dad had remarried. She was really angry at first, but eventually she came around. And Gary…he grew up, eventually. Got married to a girl called Sarah, started working at the Big House."

"The what?"

"Glendarroch House, but everyone calls it the Big House. It ran the estates, the farming and owned most of the buildings. That's where Trish and her family lived; her dad was the groundskeeper and her mum was the housekeeper. Gary helped their dad. Then his wife's eye wandered."

"Oh," he said, and the word was loaded.

"Yeah. His name was Peter Odell, the intended of the Lady of the Manor, Bryony Hagen. Everyone thought she was a bit of an ice bitch, but she was all right. Him though…well, like I said, after I came back from travelling, I was a bit better at seeing crazy."

"What happened?"

"I don't know what Sarah was thinking, but apparently she was reading more into it. Odell thought she was just a silly wee girl and he told her as much. Then she found out she was pregnant and she told Gary everything. He disappeared."

"Who, Gary?"

"Yeah. Like I said, Gary had been a bit of a troublemaker, but he'd grown up by then, and he had no history of just disappearing. Then, a few months later, Odell lashed out at Bryony, she threw him out on his ear, as you would, and that night, David Sneddon, one of the farmers found Odell dead in the woods. Suicide by gunshot. And in the dirt, he saw a hand."

"Gary?"

"Yeah. The evil bastard had killed him and then killed himself over where he buried him. Some of the villagers said, oh he did it so the family could have him back. Rubbish. He could have given him back at any point in the three months he was missing."

"And did you find out what'd happened? I mean, with Odell dead too…"

"He'd confessed to Bryony. Before he killed himself. After Sarah told him about the affair, Gary had gone to confront Odell. Threatened to tell Bryony everything. Odell strangled him."

"Awful," he said. "So, what happened to Trish?"

"Well I don't think she ever got over it, really. She was tipped for university with me, she's one of those people who could have been anything. But she fell into a dark hole. Got into a very bad relationship with a guy called Paul Lafferty. Another one I hated on sight, but she wouldn't hear of it. She was vulnerable, easy for him to control."

"She's still with him?"

"No. She caught him cheating on her and…well, I don't really know what happened but he ranted and raved, and she's never gone back. Last I heard from her dad, she was working on a cruise ship, providing entertainment. She's a brilliant singer."

"You've never heard from her again?"

"No. I think she wanted a clean slate. I was upset, but I got it. More than she realised, probably. And…well, when you live in a small village like that, nobody ever lets you forget it. Sure, the years pass and memories fade, but when they run out of things to gossip about, all they talk about is that 'awful, awful business.' That's not what you need when you're trying to move on."

He nodded and said; "well you weren't kidding. Small towns aren't so quiet after all."

"No. At least, mine isn't."

"Would you go back?"

"What, to live? Maybe. Maybe I need the isolation after all of this."

She caught the upset on his face and stroked his face.

"Your life is here, Smithy. You're a London copper through and through."

"I don't care about that. I just want you. Wherever we are."

Their lips had only brushed when Kirsty's bedroom door opened and she started, turning to go back in.

"Sorry."

"No, it's okay," Andrea said straightening then laughed as Hugo sauntered out of the room. "Oh there you are."

"Oh…yeah," Kirsty said. "He was meowing outside the door at about three in the morning."

"Yeah, that's his room as far as he's concerned. He's very territorial. I take it he spent half the night sitting on you?"

"Yes. I take it he has history?"

"Oh yes," Smithy said. "I can attest to that. Tea?"

"Please," she said, sitting on Andrea's other side and opened the photo album. "Reminiscing?"

"Yeah," Andrea said. "Just…thinking about simpler times."

"I don't miss it," Kirsty said. "Especially Mrs Mack. God can you imagine…"

"Yeah," Andrea said. "Don't. It'd be…"

"Halfway up the Highlands by now? Yeah. She's a nosy old gossip, she'd never change."

Smithy watched them both laugh, and carried on making the tea, his unease growing. He was sure Andrea hadn't taken Kirsty's untrustworthiness for granted, especially after yesterday, but he hoped she wasn't too invested in giving Kirsty multiple chances he thought she didn't deserve. He brought Kirsty her tea and she gave him a smile.

"Thanks."

"No problem. I'm gonna go and grab a shower. I won't be long."

"No, take your time," Andrea said and gave him a knowing shake of her head as he closed the door. He was relieved, knowing she was sharing his feelings about Kirsty, but was being friendly because freezing Kirsty out would likely lead to her doing something stupid.

The doorbell rang as Smithy came out of the steaming bathroom. Andrea looked through the peephole before opening the door, standing back to let Sam in.

"Hi, come on in."

"Thanks," Sam said, lifting pulling down her hood. "I just thought I'd check in on you all."

Part of Andrea wondered if Sam thought she'd kill Kirsty herself the moment they were out of the station; truthfully, she'd be lying if she said she hadn't considered it.

"We're okay," Andrea said. "We all got some sleep, anyway. How's Angus?"

"He's fine. A bit bruised, but fine. Making the funeral arrangements for Bruce from the hotel. We'll let him get on with clearing the house when we're sure there's no threat. He says you're always welcome to give him a call."

Andrea nodded, relieved. With all the trouble she'd inadvertently caused for Angus and his family, she'd worried he'd never want to speak to her again; even though she'd only known him a few days, she liked him a lot.

"Is there anything else you guys need?"

"Know anyone who can deliver food?" Smithy asked, rubbing his hair with the towel. "We're on the verge of eating breadcrumbs."

"No, but I can run you to the supermarket, Andrea, if that helps? That is, if you don't mind staying here with Kirsty, Smithy?"

There was a bit of an uncomfortable silence; Kirsty's face reddened and Sam said hastily.

"I mean, just from a safety point of view. Andrea's with me, and you're both here with the alarm."

And Sam could speak to her about something one on one, Andrea could see it coming a mile off. She maintained her poker face and nodded.

"Thanks, Sam. That's really kind of you," she said, taking her coat and handbag down from the hooks and turning back to Smithy and Kirsty. "Any special requests?"

"No," Smithy said. "You know me, I'm easy."

Kirsty shook her head; Andrea nodded.

"We won't be long," she said, and left the house with Sam, both women lifting their hoods simultaneously, rushing to the car. "Thanks, Sam. I really appreciate this."

"Not a problem," Sam said, starting the car. "How are you? How're you coping?"

"I'm trying," Andrea said. "But it's a bit of a living nightmare."

She watched the rain hitting the windshield, her eyes sweeping with the windscreen wipers as they moved. She could feel Sam watching her from the corner of her eye and looked across at her.

"I can tell you want to ask me something. Go on."

"Look, I don't want you to think we've all been talking behind your back…"

"But you have," Andrea said and there was no trace of annoyance. "And you'd have the right to. Go on."

"Well, I meant Smithy really. He told me about the…incident in Venezuela. After the nightclub."

"Oh," Andrea said and there was silence for a minute. "Well…what about it?"

"Were there any other times? That he'd been violent? Or did he do…anything else?"

"Nothing sexual if that's what you're asking," Andrea said and felt Sam's relief from her side of the car. "I know I've supressed a lot, but of that, I'm sure."

"Well, I was thinking…and you know that I'm trained as a profiler…"

"Yeah?"

"And I'm not sure you've supressed the memories as much as you've repressed them."

Andrea was silent and she looked across at her as they stopped at the traffic lights.

"You know the difference, right? I don't mean to be condescending by that…"

"I know," Andrea said and chewed on her fingers. "Maybe you're right. Even though I tried not to think about Kit all these years, I'd be lying if I said I'd managed it. Then the minute he reappears in my life, things come back. It's scary sometimes. Why're you asking me all this, Sam?"

"I wanted to ask you because I think it might be helpful, maybe something you remember can give us a clue, anything, to where he could be, what his game plan might be. People he might have mentioned, places. I know you've already said he didn't talk much about it, but…can you be sure? If I'm right and you've repressed some of what happened…"

"No, maybe not," Andrea said and the car moved again as the lights changed. "But if you are right, how do I get back memories like that?"

"Well you'd have to see someone. Not me, I'm not qualified for it. A psychotherapist. There would be lots of difficult, possibly painful questions. Are you prepared to do that?"

"I don't know, Sam."

"I wouldn't usually pressure," Sam said hesitantly. "And I can see this has dragged up some really painful memories for you, but we're at a loss here, Andrea. We have no idea what we're up against."

"Okay," Andrea said quietly. "If you think it'll help."

"I have someone willing to speak to you. Someone I know from my uni days. He's very good, he'll be gentle."

Andrea felt cold and wished she had all the blankets she had when she'd been admitted to hospital that night.

"Andrea?"

She looked up and blinked. They were in the car park of the supermarket. She hadn't even realised they'd arrived, nor did she know how long they'd been sitting there.

"Okay. I'll speak to him. But I don't know how much more I can cope with, Sam. I've never talked about this. Never. I want to help, I really do but…I guess I'm just a bit of a coward."

"No you're not," Sam said. "I had to watch my daughter go through it, you know about Abigail and Hugh Wallis, right?"

Andrea nodded; though she hadn't had much involvement in the case with Sam's daughter Abi, and her former university lecturer, who was so bitter about Sam turning him down years ago, that he set out on a campaign of manipulation, gaslighting and psychological torture against the both of them.

"How is she?"

"Yeah. Better. The psychotherapy was painful, for me and for her, and I know it's a big ask, but I wouldn't be suggesting it if I didn't think it could help. That's you and the investigation. And…I think you know better than anyone how things can eat you up."

Andrea wasn't sure if she was referring to her undercover job, the business with Kit, her abortion, or maybe all three.

"Yeah," Andrea said softly. "Okay. I'll do it."

"Tomorrow morning?" Sam said tentatively, and Andrea nodded, knowing Sam had already arranged the appointment for her, hoping she'd say yes. "I'll pick you up at ten?"

"Thanks," Andrea said and pulled up her hood, opening the door. "Come on. Let's get this food, or we'll be eating carpet fluff when we run out of the breadcrumbs."

Kirsty stirred the tea well and glanced over her shoulder at Smithy. He'd barely said two words to her since Andrea had left the house. Really, she was glad Andrea had someone so sharp in her corner, not that Andrea wasn't sharp herself, but he'd be less likely to let sentimental friend history get in the way of the here and now. Smithy was flicking through the television channels and every now and then, glancing out of the window. He was very nervous, any moment Andrea wasn't in his sight. She got that. Her phone buzzed in her hand and she gulped when she saw the ID

I'll call. I suggest you answer

"Problems?" Smithy said, catching the look on her face.

"No, just my parents checking in," she said and came over, holding a cup to him. "Two sugars, right?"

"Thanks," he said, sitting up and accepting the cup.

The watched each other for a minute before Kirsty looked away

"I know I've caused a lot of trouble," she said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"It's not me who needs to hear that, Kirsty."

"I know, but I have caused you trouble too, weather I meant to or not. I've just had my head in the sand all this time, pulling it back out isn't very easy."

"Is there anything else you need to tell me about your time in South America? Even if you've only just remembered it? Andrea has."

Was this where she was supposed to tell him about all the dealing she did or about the time she'd stood by and watched a child die? This man wasn't stupid, and there was no way he'd believe she'd conveniently forgotten about it. She shook her head and he stared at her for a long moment until she felt her face heating; he knew she was lying, and she knew it. He took a drink and grimaced.

"Sorry," Kirsty said. "Not many people I know take sugar."

"It's fine," he said. "Just a bit sweet. Bad for you, really. I should start cutting down." He look another drink. "Listen, Kirsty, I know we're all under a lot of stress here, particularly you and Andrea."

"More Andrea," she said absently stroking Hugo, who'd jumped up to lie beside her. "I would have been there for her, if she'd told me about the abortion. I couldn't believe it when she told me it was already over. Any time I tried to talk about it, she'd shut me down."

"I don't think she likes to talk about it, even now," he said. "The night she told me about it is the first and only time she's talked about it."

"I did suggest she should talk to someone, but she wasn't having any of it."

Something Sam was trying to talk her into as they spoke, she'd made the suggestion a few days previously and he didn't think it was such a bad idea himself but hoped she wouldn't be annoyed at him for spilling everything she told him.

"Yeah. I thought the same," he said. "She's quite resistant to it though."

"She's stubborn," Kirsty said. "She's always been the same. Kit's a ghost we never wanted to see again."

"I can't imagine why," Smithy said, and finished the tea, putting the mug on the table, leaning back.

"Another?"

"No thanks," he said, closing his eyes. "I think I'm building a tolerance to caffeine."

"Well it's been a stressful time for you, too. Maybe you need to rest, though I'm sure it's not something you're used to."

"You're not kidding," he said and yawned loudly, rubbing his eyes. "What's wrong with me?"

He caught Kirsty's face and saw the guilt right away. She saw his eyes widen for a split second and knew he'd realised she'd done something.

"Kirsty…"

His speech was becoming slurred and he tried to push himself up, but felt as if his arms and legs were tied down by boulders.

"Don't…don't be stupid…"

"It's too late for that," she said and took his phone from the table, putting it in her pocket. "Sorry, Smithy. It's him or me."

He tried to push himself up a final time, and failed, his eyes closing. Kirsty got up, trembling, and jumped when her phone rang. She answered it shakily.

"Kit?"

"You won the prize," he said coolly. "So, what's it to be, Kirsty? What've you got for me?"

"I need to see you," she said. "Now."

"What, with that police escort idiot? Up for round two, is he?"

"No," said Kirsty. "Just me. I've taken care of him."

"I'm sure you have," he said. "You don't ever change, Kirsty."

"Look, can I see you or not?"

"You can see me," he said. "But I warn you now, Kirsty, if this is a setup, I'll spill everything, including about that sweet little thing you watched choke on her own vomit."

"I know," she gritted. "Where do I find you?"

"Across the road."

Kirsty went silent and Kit laughed.

"These idiot cops," he said. "So predictable. They never think to go to the most obvious place because they think nobody would be so stupid as to be there. So, now who's the stupid one? Hurry up. Before Andrea and blondie get back."

He hung up and Kirsty swallowed hard, looking at Smithy, slumped on the sofa in a deep sleep. From her pocket, she took the bag of crushed Temazepam. Hopefully for Smithy there were no long lasting effects; she'd only given him one, but Kit was another story. She pulled her hood up as she left the house, as it was still raining and as she crossed the road, a door opened. She nearly turned back, but made her feet move and approached the door, stepping over the threshold. The hallway was deserted and she ventured in tentatively.

"Kit?"

There was no answer. She walked in further, wishing she had a baseball bat or something. She moved in and jumped, whirling around with a shriek as the door slammed shut. Kit stood behind it, a cigarette in one hand, and gave her a cruel smile.

"Let's not be interrupted," he said and moved into the light, somehow looking more sinister. "Well, unless you're somehow hiding a wad of cash under that jumper, I guess you're not here to pay me back."

"I can't pay you back, Kit, I've told you that."

He blew cigarette smoke in her face and said, "What do you want then?"

"I was hoping we could talk," said Kirsty and slid her hoodie off, revealing the top underneath that left little to the imagination. "Work something else out."

He laughed and she felt herself redden.

"What, turning tricks? Fine example to set your kid. Olly, right?"

She was going to be sick, or pass out, she wasn't sure what would come first.

"How do you know about Olly?"

"Kirsty. I'm Kit Maynard. I can find out whatever I want." He gave her a leering look. "Or, just big mouth cops who should know better than to shoot their big mouths off when they're supposed to be on duty. I'd say you should maybe warn them about that, but we both know you won't."

He brushed past her and she followed him into a sitting room, and looked around. She was expecting a squat, but it actually looked comfortable. Thumping music played on the radio and on top of it sat a framed photo of him and Andrea, his arms wrapped possessively around her. From the window, he had a perfect view of Andrea's flat.

"So, what is this then, Kirsty? You turn up here, dressed like a tart, and I'm supposed to write off your debt?"

"I spent your money, Kit. Every last penny of it. I was working part time in a grotty pub when you showed back up on the scene, a job I've now lost."

"And that sounds like a you problem to me," he said, picking up the glass of red wine and lifting it to her in a mock toast. "You're really ready to let sweet Andrea get hurt because you can't take responsibility, aren't you?"

"This is between you and me, Kit. Leave her out of it."

"Why? Do you actually give a stuff about her? Didn't seem that way when we had our hook ups on the beach. And you really want to know why I chose her? Well, you know what they say about not going for bacon when you have steak."

"I owe it to her!" Kirsty said fiercely. "I've let her down time and time again when she's the only one who ever gave me a chance. That's why you'll get your money."

"Go on then," he said, taking another drag on his cigarette. "How? As you don't have a job."

"Anything. Anything you want. I just want this to be over." Kirsty coughed, the smoky room irritating her throat. "Can I have a drink, please? We can discuss it."

"I can't wait," he said but got up and disappeared into the hallway.

Kirsty moved quickly, pouring the contents of the bag into the glass of wine, her hands shaking. She heard a glass break, and Kit swear, and hastily swirled the wine until the white powder disappeared. His footsteps returned and he came back with a glass and a bottle of red wine. He poured her a glass and pushed it to her, lifting his own.

"Well, cheers. Happy reunion."

Kirsty took a sip, then put the glass back down, rushing to look out of the window as she heard a car approach. It didn't stop, though, just drove on. She breathed a sigh of relief. Either Sam and Andrea had a lot to talk about, or queues were very long.

"How are you going to explain it away?" he asked. "Whatever you've done to lover boy?"

"I'll think of something," she said and changed the radio station, turning the volume up.

"Yeah, that's you all over," he said as she sat pack down picking up her glass. "Act first, think later."

She watched carefully as he took a gulp of his wine and took a drink of her own. She wished she was drinking something a bit stronger, but this would have to do.

"So," he said. "What's the proposal, Kirsty? How are you going to pay your debt?"

"Well, I was thinking," she said, "maybe we should go back into business. We worked well together, you and me, and we made good money."

"Yeah in South America," he sneered. "And what, I'm supposed to walk up and down the street offering smack? Haven't you heard I'm supposed to be keeping a low profile?"

"That's where I come in," she said.

"What? You're going to walk up and down selling smack? You, who's practically under police surveillance?"

"They can't watch us forever," she said, and took another drink from her wine.

"And how long do you expect me to wait for my money? Do you expect me to hide here forever, waiting? Andrea's shacked up with that copper. I have nothing else to hang around here for."

"There are other ways, Kit," Kirsty said. She took another drink, then she saw it; the remnants of white powder in the bottom of her glass. "No. Oh no."

"Golden rule of drinking with me, Kirsty," Kit said. "Don't take your eye off your glass. What do you think I am? Stupid?"

Panicked, Kirsty got up, but felt as if she was dragging her feet along. She stumbled, hitting the coffee table, and hit the floor hard, feeling the pain shooting through her elbows as they took the brunt of her fall. Her head was spinning, but she heard his footsteps approaching and crawled towards the door. Kit's foot stamped on her back, pinning her to the floor.

"Kit…" she said, her speech slurring. "Please…"

"You've made mistakes Kirsty," he said, his voice echoed in her head and he kicked her onto her front. His face swam before her eyes, but she was drawn to his cold black eyes. "But this might be your biggest yet."

He crouched above her, giving her a smile that made her blood run cold.

"Thanks for taking care of lover boy over there for me. I don't think blondie should be so difficult to deal with. Then I can get Andrea to join us. I think it's about time the three of us had a reunion."