CHAPTER ONE

      ‘NICK!’ She stopped dead as the main doors of Westhampstead Police Headquarters closed behind her and the dark-haired man talking to the desk sergeant turned to face her.

      ‘Rachel...?’ There was a flash of something in his eyes along with recognition—shock? Pleasure maybe? She wasn’t sure, she only knew that her heart had turned over at the sight of him and even now was hammering uncomfortably in her chest. ‘What are you doing here?’ The eyes as dark as his hair narrowed slightly.

      ‘I could ask you the same question.’ She managed to speak lightly, even though her heart continued to perform gymnastics at the sudden and unexpected sight of this man who had once meant so much to her.

      ‘I work here,’ he said simply, ‘or didn’t you know?’

      ‘I knew you were a policeman certainly, but I thought you were with the Metropolitan Police.’

      ‘I was,’ he said, ‘but I’ve recently transferred back here to Westhampstead.’

      ‘So we’ve both come home.’

      ‘You’ve returned?’

      ‘For the time being, yes.’ She swallowed, still struggling to control her reactions. ‘One of the partners at the group practice is taking a year’s sabbatical—I’m filling in for him.’

      ‘So how can we help you?’

      ‘Dr Beresford.’ The voice of the duty sergeant broke in and Nick Kowalski turned slightly towards the man, whom to Rachel’s relief seemed to know exactly who she was and why she was there. He extended his hand and enclosed hers in a huge paw-like grip. ‘I’m station sergeant—Harry Mason.’

      ‘I thought I’d come and familiarise myself with the place before I’m called out,’ said Rachel, aware that beside her Nick had grown very still.

      ‘Called out?’ He frowned and just for a moment Rachel was glad that she had this slight advantage over him.

      ‘Yes,’ she said smoothly, ‘I’m to provide medical cover for this station.’

      ‘I thought that was Steve O’Malley’s job,’ said Nick and Rachel thought she detected a sudden sharp edge to his voice, almost as if greeting her and talking to her were one thing but having her work there was another thing altogether.

      ‘It’s Steve who’s on sabbatical,’ she replied calmly. ‘Like I said, I’m taking his place.’

      ‘Have you done any police work before?’ It was almost an accusation and Rachel saw a frown cross Harry Mason’s face.

      ‘As it happens, yes, I have.’ She spoke coolly, in control now. ‘I was Police Doctor at my last practice in Stockport.’

      ‘Let me show you around.’ As if he sensed some sort of tension between the two of them, Harry Mason beckoned to a young constable to take over the desk.

      But Nick interjected before the constable had time to move. ‘I’ll do that, Harry,’ he said curtly. Glancing at Rachel, he added, ‘If you have no objections?’

      ‘Well, no.’ She hesitated slightly, aware that Harry Mason seemed put out at having his role hijacked but at the same time suspecting that Nick Kowalski was pulling rank. ‘Of course not.’ She had no idea of Nick’s rank, as he was not in uniform, but as she followed him down the corridor she found her thoughts in turmoil. She’d known he’d gone into the police force, of course she had. Hadn’t there been conjecture at the time that Westhampstead’s wild boy might turn to enforcing the law instead of ending up behind bars, as so many had predicted he would?

      Her suspicions of his high rank intensified as they passed a man in the corridor, also in plain clothes, who nodded at Nick and muttered the single word, ‘Guv.’

      ‘You’re CID?’ she asked as he led the way past a huge control room and opened the door of an office, standing back for her to precede him.

      ‘Yes.’ He nodded.

      ‘Rank?’ she asked as he closed the door behind them.

      ‘DCI.’

      ‘I’m impressed,’ she said softly. ‘Detective Chief Inspector—who would have thought it?’

      ‘Who indeed?’ His gaze met hers levelly. ‘Certainly not the good folk of Westhampstead, that’s for sure.’

      ‘You’ve done well, Nick.’ She glanced around the office as she spoke, at the desk, the filing cabinets, the computer and phones—anywhere rather than at the dark gaze