'I can normally work people out,' she rubbed her forehead, perplexed, 'it's my job after all. And I really thought that I was getting to know you but I was wrong. You're so manipulative.'

Fenwick's resolution to remain calm evaporated.

'That's unfair. I hate trickery.'

'I'm not saying it's deliberate but you're a past master. I don't know who you learnt from but they were an expert. You portray this tough-but-broken image, the strong man bearing grief with stoic resolution for the sake of his children. You hint at a warm heart just waiting to respond to the right woman's love, then when that person tries to reach inside what does she find?'

Fenwick couldn't speak. Her taunts had provoked an anger in him he could barely manage. Claire took his silence as an invitation to continue.

'Nothing. Behind the outer wall is an inner one, smooth and impervious.'

'I thought we could be friends,' his lips said with control, 'good companions enjoying each other's company. I hadn't meant to imply more.'

'That's because you haven't any more to give. You're like a brilliant robot with a poor-little-me att.i.tude.'

He heard tears in her voice and reached out his hand instinctively. She jerked away as if burnt.

'Don't, please. You're not worth the heartache. If you'd only once let me see the real you and not the charming stranger then I might have persevered.'

With a bitter shake of her head she stalked to her car and drove away without giving him chance to reply.

Fenwick watched her go, his face expressionless. Inside he felt as if someone had taken his vital organs and pulverised them. She had summed him up as a heartless cipher, a hollow, false man wrapped about with meaningless charm. Because she hadn't been able to find his heart she had a.s.sumed that it didn't exist. He knew that wasn't true. Monique had found a way through his armour. For years he'd been helpless, writhing on the barb of her love. Every day, Bess and Chris pierced his protective layers, provoking extraordinary emotions within him joy, fear, anger, love, protectiveness sometimes all at once.

He had to admit that Claire was perceptive though. She had discovered his armour-plated sh.e.l.l. The destructiveness of Monique's madness and her long, slow death had hurt them all. The idea of facing such loss again paralysed him and he was honest enough to admit that he was relieved that Claire had broken off their relationship.

He bought a sandwich and a bottle of water at a petrol station and ate deliberately. The energy of the food worked its way through his system, expelling any effects of the whisky he had half consumed. When he was in control again, calm, professional and correct, his shield once more in place, he felt ready to see Nightingale.

For perhaps the tenth time, Nightingale rubbed at a non-specific grey smudge on her wallpaper left by the SOCO team. Apart from that her flat was spotless again and the prolonged wait was driving her mad. He'd never been here and the initial phone call announcing his intended visit had thrown her sense of perspective.

At eleven forty-five she ground Arabica beans, filtered fresh water and was about to switch on the machine when the phone rang. He was running late. She abandoned the coffee and went for a run.

The park was full of mothers and children. She sprinted around them on each circuit, feeling the hidden sun draw moisture from her body. There were puddles still from the weekend's rain, and every now and then she would slap into one rather than shorten her stride and break her rhythm. Her pace settled. The drumming of her own blood in her ears was as comforting as a mother's heart beat, and she matched her arms and legs to its pace, feeling energy course out of her with each step to be sucked back in on every breath.

Sometimes it happened, this almost magical pulsing run that could eat up the miles without a st.i.tch or cramp, as if she could complete a marathon with ease. On her fifteenth lap, her ninth mile, a duck rose flapping and quacking from the pond and the momentum vanished. Suddenly she was hot, tired and thirsty. The enchantment had gone. She remembered to check the time and was horrified to see that she was going to be late. Not just late, she was steamy, muddy, dishevelled and late. With an audible curse she changed direction and headed for home.

He was waiting in the visitors' car park as she jogged into the drive.

'Chief Inspector.' She nodded at him, conscious of her shorts and sweat-stained vest.

'Nightingale. Is this a good time? Do you want me to come back later?'

His question confused her, as did his expression. There were new lines of strain on his face. She imagined a difficult case interrupted and felt unworthy.

'Now's fine. I'm sorry. I went out for a run and forgot the time. Come in.'

She led the way into the vestibule and they waited in silence for the tiny lift. Blood was pumping like a bra.s.s band in her ears. She took shallow breaths so that she wouldn't need to smell her own sweat and could pretend that he didn't either.

The flat felt empty to her, too clean to be real.

'Is that fresh coffee?' The smell of the abandoned beans hung in the air. 'I'd love a cup. Would you mind?'

For the first time she noticed a trace of whisky on his breath.

'I need to take a quick shower, if you don't mind waiting.'

'No problem, I can make it...'

'No! I mean, there's no need.'

'Please, I make great coffee. Trust me.'

He smiled and she gave in. She pointed him in the direction of the kitchen and left him to it.

Ten minutes later she was back, in jeans and a short sleeved sweatshirt, hair towel-damp. He had a pot of coffee ready.

'I wasn't sure whether you wanted regular or iced you looked hot when I arrived but now...' He stopped and busied himself with putting the airtight lid back on the unused beans.

There was silence as she poured their drinks. It was his usual tactic, forcing the other person to talk and she was usually curious to see how long it would last. Today though she just wanted the conversation over and done with. She had no expectation of anything meaningful emerging and none at all that there was personal motivation behind his visit.

'You came here to talk to me about my resignation, sir. What did you want to say?'

He seemed taken aback by her bluntness but rallied quickly.

'Don't do it, as simple as that. I think you're making a mistake.'

'Do you? Well I don't. It's not an easy decision and I can a.s.sure you that I thought about it long and hard.'

'You've been stressed for months and that's not a good time to make big decisions.'

'What stress?' Her voice was level but Nightingale could feel indignation building at his presumption.

'You know what I'm referring to the trial, other cases, health, this stalking thing, ghastly...and your parents. It's a huge burden to carry on your own.'

'And who else can carry it? You've just described my life. No one else can live it for me.'

'No, of course not, but sometimes it helps to share problems, talk them through.'

'And you're a.s.suming I have n.o.body to do that with I think that's bordering on the patronising.' She turned away and bit her lip to stop her anger.

'I wasn't making any a.s.sumptions. Look, let me start again. I don't think you should resign. You are an exceptional officer with a great career ahead of you. You should stay. You'll be a huge loss to us.'

'You were losing me anyway. I was to leave Harlden, had you forgotten?'

'Is that's what's behind this? Your first major move? Well I sympathise. I felt the same. No sooner are you settled than you're urged to move on. It's understandable to feel a little unwanted but really, it's the best thing for your career.'

'A little unwanted!' She heard the tremor in her reply and took a gulp of coffee as she walked to the window, keeping her back to him.

'Look, I'm not good with words. If you left the Force you'd be hugely missed.'

'Would you miss me?'

'Me? Of course, we all would. I enjoy working with you. You have a very good reputation for thoroughness and delivery.'

'Thoroughness and delivery. Wow!' Her view of the trees blurred.

'Come on, Nightingale, don't take every word I say and see the negative.'

Fenwick walked over to her and placed a hand briefly on her shoulder.

'What other words do you want me to use? Professional, brilliant, insightful, tough, a great role model...they all apply, take your pick.'

'Thanks.' She had meant to keep the sarcasm at bay but it leapt up unbidden. Even she could feel the sting of its sharpness but she was scared to say any more in case her voice betrayed her.

If he'd only said 'fun to be with', 'a good mate', even 'pleasant' would have done, anything that suggested she was a person with substance behind the role. Had he spoken like that she would have had something to take away with her. Instead, he had simply confirmed that she meant nothing to him beyond their convenient and productive working relationship.

She blinked away the dampness that had somehow acc.u.mulated in her eyes and disguised a small sniff in another swallow of coffee. She turned round to face him, momentarily put off by their proximity. He was well over six foot, but she was five ten in socks and their eyes were almost level, his full of barely concealed frustration, hers she didn't doubt, over bright. For a moment she said nothing, then she smiled, a wry one-sided affair.

'I really appreciate your concern for me and I know how busy you are...'

'Nonsense, this is important.'

'Even so, it's taken time out of your day, which is very kind...'

'You're going to say no, aren't you. Why? I just don't understand it.'

'There's nothing to understand. People make career choices every day. This just happens to be mine.' The stone in her throat threatened to choke her.

His mobile phone rang and he checked the incoming details.

'The station, excuse me.'

'I think we're done.'

'No we are not! Just hang on.' He stepped away and spoke into his phone. 'Yes? He's early...very well. No. I can't say when I'll be back... Yes, I'll call when I'm on my way.'

'No one important I hope.'

'The ACC.'

Nightingale's mouth opened in shock.

'He's here to see the Superintendent. I'm only on stand by in case he needs to see me.'

'Even so, you should go.' She took his empty coffee cup from his hand. 'Oh, before I forget, I have a jumper of yours. Wait a moment I'll go and get it.'

She returned with it washed and pressed.

'Here,' she said too briskly, 'in case I don't see you again.'

'I'd forgotten about it. Thank you.' The frown was back on his face. 'Nightingale, this just doesn't feel right. I know that's not a logical thing to say and you'll hate it...'

'No, go on.'

'Well, I've tried all the sensible arguments and you seem as pig-headed as you always are when you're sure that you are right and the rest of us are too stupid to see it.'

She raised her eyebrows in a question.

'Am I that bad?'

'Terrible. Stubborn as the proverbial mule.'

'You make me sound like a menagerie. I'm surprised you haven't tried to drum it out of me, or have Sergeant Cooper do it for you.'

'I've thought about it but,' he paused then shrugged as if he might as well be honest, 'I like it. It's part of what makes you so good.'

'I see. Any other character weaknesses you would like to mention by way of farewell?' She was smiling now, enjoying the spectacle of him walking on thin ice.

'How about lack of respect for senior officers, a smart alec with more brains than are good for her?' He'd caught her mood and was smiling in return. 'Over zealous, aggressive...'

'I think you mean a.s.sertive.'

'Whatever. Shall I go on?'

'I've got the idea. And you still want me to stay? Why?'

He shook his head as if baffled.

'I don't know. Perhaps I like the idea of you in the Force somewhere. Who knows, we may even work together again.'

'That's unlikely isn't it? If I transferred that would be the end, you know that.'

'Probably. Personally, I hate the idea of your transfer but it's for your own good.'

'You've never said that before, that you didn't want me to go.'

'No, well and I shouldn't have now. It's none of my business. But I do care about what happens to you.'

'I see.' The conversation was confusing yet she felt elated. She had enjoyed his insults. They had been personal and somehow showed that he cared. 'I don't know what to say. I still think I should resign, I really do.'

'Give it time, take some leave; compa.s.sionate, sick, holiday, whatever. Go away and think about it. We'll hold the letter until you return. Just give yourself the chance to reconsider.'

'Let me sleep on it. I'll call you in the morning and let you know.'

Fenwick picked up his laundered jumper and turned to go.

'Sir... Andrew, thank you. Whatever my decision this conversation means a lot to me.'

He flushed at her compliment and left without another word.