Baldwin knew that their journey was over; Stevens and Thompson had arrived and were standing by the camper van waiting for him. His journey was over and yet, strangely, he felt as if he had all the time in the world. On the wind was carried the plaintive cry of a gull, strangely reminiscent of the wail of a siren; taking Baldwin back to that fateful day when everything had changed...

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"How's Hannah?" asked Peter Carter, looking across at his old friend and colleague.

Richard Baldwin tilted his head slightly, his craggy face impassive.

"No better. The doctor said he would like to see me again."

"Then what the hell are you doing here?"

"I can go straight to the hospital after our shift."

"Bollocks! I can handle this stakeout on my own for a while." Carter leaned forward and tapped young Thompson on the shoulder. "Thompson: swing by the General Hospital. We're dropping off Inspector Baldwin."

"OK sir."

Baldwin sat impassively, willing to go along with what his old friend suggested. As the car wound its way through the evening traffic he took out a cigarette, lit it, and drew deeply on the numbing smoke.

The unmarked police car pulled up in front of the hospital and Baldwin got out. He stood watching as the car drove off and dropped the remains of his cigarette to the floor, crushing it underfoot. Taking a deep breath, Baldwin turned and walked inside.

Reaching the fourth floor, Baldwin tapped lightly on the door of Hannah's room and walked in. His daughter was asleep, her slight form almost invisible beneath the heavily starched sheet that was pulled tightly across her. Baldwin stood at the foot of the bed inspecting every tiny feature of his daughter's face, looking for some change, some improvement; but it was a vain hope. Slowly, as if in a dream, the policeman moved around to the side of the bed and sat down. He sat, stiff and unbending, his eyes swimming with water. ......(cont)