Charlie rubbed her eyes, her vision swimming with how tired she felt. But still, the problem remained.

She pushed away from the table, turning her back on maps she'd found at the local library. Felton Manor and its surrounding grounds were vast, but there were very few places an entire family could be holed up. The weather, though not cold for May, was unusually wet. If the kids were out somewhere on the grounds, then they could become hypothermic.

And therein lay the problem that she just couldn't solve. The search team hadn't found a trace of them, except for a cardigan and an old stuffed toy.

If they were out there, then they should have been found by now.

She wondered whether she should start widening her search. And yet something told her they were still there.

She knew better than most that Felton Pond didn't give up its secrets easily. Perhaps she would take a drive tomorrow and search for herself. At least then, she would feel as though she were doing something. It was harder and harder to report back to Jerry on how little information she'd been able to gather.

And then there was DS Gwilt and his so kind suggestion to leave the police to their job.

She bristled at just the memory of him. She'd never been one who liked being told what to do. Even during her time at MI6, her superiors knew to leave her be. They got better results that way.

But the good DS had not understood. He assumed, like most, that money was one reason she couldn't walk away. After all, she'd been there when Jerry had mentioned hiring her. But she'd never take a penny from the Phillips. This was a way for her to pay back the years of friendship between her and Lucy. A small way to say how sorry she was that she never saw the monster that lurked in Jack.

No, money wasn't what kept her at Marton. It was guilt. A guilt that she'd been trying to bury for years.

Only there was no way the good and honourable DS would ever understand that. He was far too squeaky clean to be able to look at her past objectively.

So that left her with DCI Neo Denzel. A man just as squeaky clean as Gwilt, and yet he was different. She could feel that. He may not have wanted her there, he'd made that clear, but he didn't look down on her. In fact, there were almost times she could have sworn there was admiration swimming in his eyes.

Her speculation into the neat and proper Chief would do her no good, so she shut down her line of thinking and grabbed her coat. The lure of a cold night and a moment's peace beckoned her as she switched off the lights and closed the front door behind her.

It wouldn't be the first time she'd wandered around Marton in the early hours of the morning, and with the way this case was going, it would certainly not be the last. But all those times she'd done it as a teenager, she'd always failed to appreciate the serenity of the village.

It was almost its own pocket of civilisation, and as she walked between quiet houses, it was easy to think that she was the only one awake in the sleepy town.

That feeling of being alone was refreshing after her years in London. Whilst she loved the city, it had become loud and overcrowded. The ability to disappear amongst a crowd no longer seemed to hold the same appeal it did when she was younger.

Giggling and hushed whispers broke into her thoughts, and she slowed, looking around herself.

She'd only made it to the centre of town, which wasn't much anymore. Someone had turned the corner shop she remembered into a house, and the post office was now a hairdressers.

But the Sailor's Mate was still going strong. She smiled a little as she remembered the number of times she and her friends talked about being able to have their first drink in the pub. The barman was a stickler for keeping the underage kids out.

Her smile slipped as she realised that none of them ever got to have that drink.

She spotted the source of the giggling and froze. A group of kids were lounging around on a bench. Charlie counted several bottles being passed back and before, and she hoped it was only alcohol flowing through their veins.

The kids still hadn't seen her, and she contemplated turning back around. She wasn't looking to get involved in an altercation. Or be a hero. Besides, she was in no position to lecture anyone.

But the decision was taken away from her before she could move.

'Hey, d-don't touch me,' one girl slurred, wobbling away from the group.

'Don't be like that.' A boy laughed, dragging her closer to him.

Charlie watched as a scuffle ensued and the girl ended up falling to the floor.

'What do you think you're doing?' Charlie shouted, making all the kids freeze.

'Leg it.'

She didn't see who said it, but immediately they started sprinting away from her. Some being carried, others unaided clearly less drunk than the others.

Charlie huffed and went to the girl on the ground.

'Are you okay?' she asked.

But the girl twisted to the side before she could reply and vomited on the grass. Charlie quickly scraped back the girl's curly hair and patted her back.

'It's alright. Just get it all up.' Charlie shook her head at the irony. She couldn't count the number of times her mother had done and said the same thing to her.

She helped the girl up and tried to steady her the best she could.

'M-m friends?' The girl looked around in confusion.

'They left,' Charlie replied mildly. 'Now come on, I'll take you home.'

She managed to tow the girl back to her car before she started resisting.

'No, my Dad, he'll kill me,' the girl said, before having to vomit again.

Charlie huffed, trying to keep her expression friendly. 'What's your name, love?'

The girl wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. 'Willow.'

'Well, Willow, what else would you suggest? Your friends just abandoned you, you're currently talking to a stranger in the wee hours of the morning, and judging by the way you're feeling now, I'd say you're likely to wake up with a cracking hangover tomorrow.' Pussy footing around the situation wouldn't help anyone, and Charlie was not about to have some unknown drunk girl in her house. That would have to be her last resort. Convincing the girl to go back home was the best possible outcome.

Willow thought over her options. It was true she was already feeling a dull headache forming above her right eye, and her stomach was rolling with every step. The idea of crawling back into her own bed sounded perfect.

'Okay,' she agreed.

Charlie breathed a sigh of relief and helped her in, rolling down the windows on the ancient jeep just in case.

After a brief conversation, they were zooming out of town, Charlie following the girl's directions. Thankfully, she only lived ten minutes' drive outside of Marton.

Charlie parked in the spacious driveway and helped the girl out. The ride had been without incident, but they both knew how quickly that could change.

She could see how nervous Willow was and decided to stay until she was safely inside. Her presence might be enough to save Willow from a doorstep screaming match. Charlie had seen enough of them to last her a lifetime.

When Willow refused to ring the doorbell, too scared of what awaited her, Charlie stepped forward and did the honours. They both listened as the noise travelled throughout the house.

'He's going to go ballistic, I know it,' Willow whispered to herself.

Since Charlie wasn't sure what was going to happen, she kept her mouth shut.

What she wasn't prepared for was DCI Denzel to be stood in front of her in a very fetching iron man dressing gown.

For a moment, their eyes met and widened before he focused on the girl next to her.

'Willow? Charlie? What's going on?' Neo rubbed a hand down his jaw, wondering if he was still dreaming.

But before anyone could answer, Willow vomited on Charlie who was too stunned to move out of the way.

Charlie grimaced and Neo's eyes zeroed in on his daughter, the smell of alcohol and sick now easily detectable.

'Why don't we get her inside before everything starts?' Charlie didn't wait for an answer, but took Willow's arm and marched her into the house past Neo. 'Best get a bucket, Chief, and I'll take some spare clothes if you have them,' she called, already heading up the stairs.

Neo stared after them, the front door still wide open behind him. Snapping out of his trance, he shut the door and found a spare bowl, some paracetamol, and filled a glass with water. Right now, his daughter wouldn't be able to keep anything down, but tomorrow she would need them. Adding a large t-shirt of his to the pile he made his way up the stairs.

He found Charlie smoothing Willow's hair back from her forehead as the girl clutched at her blankets and groaned.

'I'm sorry, Dad,' Willow mumbled.

Neo placed the items on her bedside table and sighed. His daughter looked too pathetic to reprimand now, but that didn't mean he didn't have questions.

'We'll talk tomorrow.' He kissed her on the forehead. 'Call me if you need me.'

He stepped out and closed the door behind Charlie. He handed her a spare shirt.

'My room's through there. If you bring your clothes down I'll stick them in the wash for you.'

Usually Charlie would have resisted but the smell of vomit was burning her nostrils.

'Thanks,' she said, before heading over to the bedroom.

'Did you want coffee?' he asked her.

Charlie pulled her hair up and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. 'I'll take a tea if you have one?' Considering his daughter had just thrown up all over her, a tea was the least she deserved, she thought to herself as she closed the bedroom door on him.