The room swam into focus and Lewis realized he was in hospital. Monocular vision, must be something wrong with one eye. Oh, yes, Johnson had clocked him upside the head, making that eye useless from the swelling.

Johnson. Lewis had known as soon as the man entered the interview room that things were not as they should be. He had been Johnson's personal target as soon as their investigation promised to interfere with his prosperous side business.

It was some time before Lewis realized that part of his view included a certain tall, blonde sergeant.

"Hathaway? Am I awake now?"

"I think so, Sir. How many fingers?" He held up four.

For some reason, this had become a joke between them. "Three." Lewis cracked a small smile.

"Mmm, hmm. Near enough."

Lewis stopped smiling.

"Hathaway. What the hell." It was a question.

The sergeant inhaled deeply. "Johnson was the mastermind of the child porn operation. He's identified everyone else involved in an effort to get some leniency, and we're in the process of rounding them up, with help from the Met. He tried to blame them all, too. But it probably won't get him anywhere; it's clear he was the brains."

"So . . . did he kill Jenny just to stop us and our investigation?"

"Partly that, but partly she was figuring him out. They were, erm . . . in a relationship, I'm sorry, Sir. That was why she moved to London, to be closer to him. He was the one giving her those bruises. Because of that, Christie knew him, so it was easy for him to take her. Jenny had just worked that out and it didn't sit well with her, according to him."

"Go figure." Lewis considered things a moment. "But we've got him, right?"

Hathaway didn't answer right away.

"James, what is it? Don't tell me he got away."

"No, it's not that, Sir. He's . . . well, he might not be sane enough to stand trial. It looks as if he is suffering from some type of delusional disorder."

Lewis frowned at that news.

There was a quiet knock at the door, and Hathaway opened it and peeked out. He turned back to Lewis and added brightly, "There's someone here to see you, Sir. I'll, erm . . . just go have a smoke."

As he slipped out, a dark-haired woman entered the room.

"Inspector Lewis."

"Inspector Ward." His gut clenched at first, but he tried to relax. "Please don't strike me again, I'm fairly helpless here. Though that didn't stop you last time." He added the last quietly.

"I'm afraid I owe you an apology."

She shut her eyes. "Johnson's orders: 'Hit him, Janis, hit him hard.' So I tried. It's not something I'm used to doing. And the look on your face. I knew we had the wrong man. Johnson acted as if he had some secret, dangerous knowledge about you and said that I should trust him. In fact, he was tampering with the evidence to make it point to you. There was a bloodstained doormat; he talked the SOCOs officers into giving it to him directly, without logging it." She opened her eyes and looked at him. "He could be so . . . persuasive."

"Janis, it's alright. I've found meself persuaded by Johnson, too, once. Long time ago, though. I think that's when he decided I was his enemy." He smiled at her. "No hard feelings. You seem like a decent copper."

She smiled broadly. "You're too kind, Robbie." Then she frowned a little. "It is 'Robbie,' isn't it? Only, Johnson kept calling you 'Bob.'"

"Yeah, he always did, even when I told him I didn't like it."

She sat on the edge of his bed. He caught a whiff of . . . lilac? Honeysuckle? "I'm so sorry, Robbie. What happened these past few days . . . Makes me wish I was working for Oxfordshire instead of the Met. Can you forgive me?"

"For what, following orders?"

"For hitting you. I never should have done that, orders or no orders."

"Y'know, that's the first time I was ever struck by a woman. It really surprised me. You're a lot tougher than you look." Then he grinned. "I like a woman with spirit."

She couldn't help but grin back. "Now don't go telling me you liked it. I won't believe that. You seem so gentle."

She pulled his hand up, examining the splint on his finger and the abrasions on his wrists. Her hands were soft. He found himself perfectly willing to forgive her, whatever her sins.

"Kane didn't find us so gentle. What happened to him, anyway?"

She didn't answer at first. Finally, "He's dead, Robbie. You fractured his skull. He probably would have lived if he'd had immediate attention. But our medical examiner said he'd been lying there for several hours, and that's what did it. If Johnson hadn't left you two alone for so long . . ." She trailed off.

He grew thoughtful. "There were a lot of things that Johnson could have done differently. But then I wouldn't have met you."

She impulsively kissed his knuckles. "Maybe when you get out of here, you can tell me all about your past encounters with Martin Johnson?"

Before Lewis could answer, Hathaway returned to the room. He stopped short, glancing back and forth between them, getting the feeling he had interrupted something. Janis looked a bit embarrassed to be caught holding Lewis's hand, but Lewis was anything but embarrassed. "I'd be glad to. I'll give you a call, okay?"

She seemed very happy as she hopped off his bed and sped out the door, avoiding eye contact with James.

Hathaway turned to allow his gaze to follow her out. Then he looked at his boss, eyebrows cocked.

"You're not wasting any time, here, I see."

"Did you want something, Hathaway?"

"She's a friend of Innocent's, it might not be the best idea, Sir."

"What might not be the best idea, Sergeant?"

Hathaway fought the urge to make some sort of snappy retort, something that would make Lewis squirm.

"Nothing specific in mind, Sir. I'm certain you're quite capable of exercising your own discretion." He flashed an overbroad smile.

"As are you, Sergeant. There's nothing you know that the Chief Super needs to know, understood?"

"Sir."

"Now make yourself useful and go find out how soon I can get out of here. I think I owe more than one person a pint or two, don't I?"

And a virtual pint for the Birthday Girl, you know who you are! Enjoy!