Page 154 of Slack Tide Kill

"Showers," said a voice from ahead. She looked up and a surprised smile cracked her stiff face.

"John."

Logan smiled back, but concern was etched in his features. "Sally. Liam. Here I am again. Any injuries?"

Sally was surprised how glad she was to see him. "I think not. Just wet."

"You're both shaking." He placed his palm across Sally's forehead, and she felt the strange urge to lean into the touch. "And freezing. Showers, new kit, I'll source it. That goes for both of you."

Liam grunted and walked past. Sally remained, looking up at Logan.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," he said.

She looked both ways. The corridor was empty, and that was all she needed. She reached out and put one hand on his chest. He was warm, firm, solid, and that heat radiated up her arm. The closeness. He looked at her hand, then at her.

"OK, so that's question one answered," he said.

She let go and smiled. "What's question two?"

"Uh." His cheeks colored. "Dinner, I guess? Tonight?"

She laughed. "Yeah. OK. Once we catch this killer."

"Once you catch the killer. Of course."

She brushed past him, leaving him standing in the hall. She had no idea where that had come from, but it felt good.

Back in the bullpen the mood was somber. Officers huddled around whiteboards as if for warmth, others conducted hushed interviews at crowded desks. A single CTSFO officer stood at the door to the lobby, cradling a tactical black rifle.

To her surprise, ex-DI Jack Mercer was there too, like a calm island sitting at a desk across from PC Hawlin. Sally walked over and Hawlin looked up.

"Officer Rogers," he said.

Mercer looked up. There was a strain in his face that hadn't been there before, despite the calm he projected.

"Jack," Sally said. "Did they call you in?"

He stood, every bit the gentleman, and shook her hand. "Good to see you, Sally. And yes, Gloria asked me – sorry, DCI Mayhew asked me to come in and consult on the original case. Signed in, vetted, badged, the whole performance. I'm on the HOLMES account as a legacy adviser, read-only." He smiled. "They let me look at anything 30 years old and nothing since."

Sally nodded. This whole case seemed to be drifting deeper into the past. "OK. Well, you may have heard we've arrested Gerald Spate. He was never a suspect, right? Certainly never charged."

"You're quite right." He gestured to the seat next to Hawlin, and they both sat.

"Coffee, ma'am?" Hawlin asked.

"Please. Thank you, Rick."

Hawlin departed. Mercer sighed. "Never a suspect," he repeated. "No formal interview, either. But we did look at him. I had a feeling, but then…" he sighed and trailed off, like this was all sand slipping through his fingers. "Everything moved on. They both had strong alibis."

"Both Rook and Spate. That pub in Lydd, the Conundrum?"

His eyes showed his gratitude; not outright stating that he'd been there himself. "That's right."

"But you liked him for something?"

"Who knows, now?" Mercer's eyes seemed to glaze slightly, like he was drifting back into the past. "I've got a lot of regrets for those days. If it turns out he really was involved, that's going to be hard to let go of."

He deflated slightly. Sally put her hand on his upper arm. "That case defeated everything the police, media and muckrakers threw against it. For decades, Jack. We're only making headway now with new evidence."