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else.

      He opened the card to see a picture of two bears cuddling, and inside, just a question mark.

      ‘This isn’t funny. Who left this here?’

      ‘It could be anyone in this place, Adrian, I’ve seen the way the new recruits look at you. If only they knew.’

      ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he said with more indignance than the question probably deserved.

      ‘Maybe it’s the duty doctor. What’s her name? Dr Hadley? She was in earlier.’

      ‘We went for one drink, that’s all. We decided not to go out again. I doubt it’s from her,’ he said, not convinced and more than a little uncomfortable getting this information from Imogen. He had been on a date with one of the doctors who worked invariably at the station. She had been their point of call on a couple of cases in the past and she had asked him out for a drink last week. He’d said yes – and in another life he might have been more interested. But the truth was that his friendship with Imogen was getting complicated, and so it felt really odd to be on a date with another woman.

      ‘Face it, Miley, you’re wanted.’ She winked.

      Adrian looked at Imogen, who then nodded over to Denise Ferguson, the duty sergeant.

      ‘Didn’t you say you’d help her out with booking tonight?’

      ‘Oh, shit.’ He remembered promising something like that. He guessed being stuck behind the front desk processing drunks on a Saturday night was better than being subjected to dating shows on TV, by yourself, because you live alone.

      Valentine’s Day was not typically the quietest of nights in the station. Even if you ignored all the drunken roadside domestic disputes and the minor pub brawls because someone looked at someone else’s woman the wrong way, nationally it was still a night that saw a statistically significant increase in crime. Petty criminals taking advantage of the fact that most couples were out enjoying a romantic meal or a nice walk meant that break-ins and car theft were higher on this night than most others. Fingers crossed tonight would be a slow one.

      ‘I’m not in until Tuesday now. I’ve got a couple of personal days,’ Imogen said.

      Adrian wasn’t sure what she was getting at. Was she inviting him over? Over the last few weeks they had made a regular habit of staying over at each other’s houses, more as a comfort than anything else. Both happy to be alone, but still not totally OK with being lonely. They would sleep in the same bed together; it had become comforting, if a little strange. Almost platonic, but not quite. There was a definite undertone to what they were doing, but it had been a little over six months since the woman Adrian was seeing, the woman he was falling for, had been taken from him violently. It had been even less time since Imogen had ended her intense relationship with an ex-con. Neither of them particularly relished the idea of dating anyone right now, but still, they were growing closer. Despite that, Imogen hadn’t yet spoken to Adrian about her mother’s death, and her funeral was on Monday – Adrian kept wondering whether she wanted him to go with her.

      ‘Have you met the new DI yet?’ he asked, changing the subject. If she wanted him there she would ask. He hoped.

      ‘No, who is it?’

      ‘Someone who’s transferred in.’

      ‘Not from Plymouth, I hope,’ Imogen said quickly, shuddering at the thought of her old job.

      ‘No, someone from the DCI’s old area. I think they wanted an outsider, someone who wasn’t caught up in any of the local shit,’ Adrian reassured her. Imogen herself had transferred from Plymouth under a bit of a black cloud and so he knew she wouldn’t appreciate working with any of her former colleagues.

      ‘Yet.’

      ‘Apparently she personally endorsed his transfer. The DCI has worked out all right. Maybe it’s a good move.’

      ‘Him? Is he hot?’

      ‘Why are you asking me?’

      ‘You can’t objectively say whether a man is attractive? Are you worried that I might think …’

      ‘Don’t finish that sentence. His face is very symmetrical, which suggests he is probably quite good-looking.’ Adrian smiled at her.

      ‘Wow. I’d hate to hear how you describe me.’ She gathered up her things to go.

      ‘I don’t think I have ever described you.’ He paused for a moment, not wanting her to disappear completely until Tuesday without at least giving her an option to invite him to the funeral; he didn’t just want to assume. There weren’t many people that Adrian felt completely at ease with, but Imogen was one of them. ‘If you’re not busy you can have lunch at mine tomorrow,’ he said, as much for himself as for her. Valentine’s Day, a painful reminder of your situation, whatever that situation was.

      ‘Text me when your shift ends,’ she said as she walked out.

      Adrian had found himself noticing more and more how difficult he found things when Imogen wasn’t there; it was as if something was missing, or there was something he was forgetting, like he had left the oven on. There was always a part of his mind that was aware when she wasn’t around, and it wasn’t happy about that at all. He pushed the feeling aside and went to help Denise.

      All in all, the night passed without much beyond the usual; in fact it was unusually quiet for Valentine’s Day. He sat mostly in silence, occasionally grunting a response when someone called his name, or when someone was brought in. Still, Adrian was grateful that he wasn’t at a loose end this evening. He couldn’t handle the endless whirring of his brain; he needed a break from thinking about himself and his situation. He had never been a strong believer in depression, but it was certainly knocking on his door, trying to get a hold of him.

      ‘Thanks for agreeing to this. I wasn’t sure if you would have plans,’ Denise said to him.

      ‘Nope, no plans.’

      There was a pause, awkward, too long to be natural.

      ‘You could come over to mine when we’ve finished if you want … no strings,’ Denise said, a cheeky smile on her face, the kind of smile that had worked on him several times in the past.

      ‘Um, wow, thanks, but I think I have a migraine brewing.’ Strange that she would proposition him now; maybe it was just the idea of being alone. Valentine’s Day seemed to magnify any feelings of loneliness in everyone; Adrian knew because he could feel it, too.

      ‘I thought maybe you wanted to get together, I thought that’s why you agreed to do this.’

      ‘Denise, you know I like you a lot, but I’m just not in the right headspace to be in a relationship right now, no strings or otherwise.’

      ‘Oh. Sorry I brought it up. Let’s get back to work. No big deal.’ Her face was flushed, easy to see against her porcelain skin and bleached bob; the pink shone through like sunburn. She seemed embarrassed at her assumption and shut down completely.

      Just then, the station door opened and one of the uniformed officers walked in, dragging a sullen-looking boy behind him, his face white with a tinge of green. The boy looked up and grinned at them both behind the counter, then projectile vomited against the window. Both Adrian and Denise jumped back to avoid the spray, stopped abruptly by the clear wall of glass, all that was between them and a shower of gloopy stomach contents.

      Adrian groaned to himself. Why did he volunteer for this?

      ‘Who’s this charmer then?’ he asked.

      ‘Name’s Finn Blackwell,’ the constable said, ‘student up at the uni, caught him driving the wrong way around a roundabout. We had to breathalyse him and he’s well over the limit. We’ve brought him in to sober up.’

      ‘Whereabouts?’

      ‘Marsh Barton. No one around, but you know.’

      ‘Well

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