The next morning, when Hector woke up to find himself sprawled, alone on the bed, he naturally assumed the worst. Hilde changed her mind and left while he slept; so much for 'spending the night' at his.

It was still dark when he peeled himself off the muggy mattress that smelled of his prowess last night—three rounds. Part of him wondered what came over him really, or Hilde. Three rounds in that tiny little bed in that tiny apartment? Not bad, Hector, not bad. But he couldn't remain there all morning. No. He couldn't. Not if he wanted to reach Sydney at a decent hour. He still had to pack.

So, Hector did what Hector must. He dragged his feet across the floor and headed—still half-asleep—towards the bathroom, which, to his surprise, was full of steam. Steam. On a muggy, summer morning?

"Hilde?" He scratched his head at the drawn shower curtain.

"Morning. Did I wake you?" Hilde popped her head around the curtain before disappearing back into the plume. "I'm an early riser. I thought I could clean up, rush to the hospital, while it's still dark and quiet, and get you all of Devi's stuff we took off her. You might need it for Sydney. I won't be long."

Ten minutes later Hilde was out of the bathroom. Hector was brewing a pot of coffee. She gathered her things into her handbag and her keys to go. "I'll be back in half an hour."

"Are we still on for breakfast at Pete's?" He turned, in his boxers, the only item of clothing he'd bothered to slip on. She'd seen everything there was to see, anyway.

At the door, Hilde paused. "If you still want to."

"Then stay?" He busied himself, trying not to stare at Hilde in her tight body-con dress. Memories of the night flooding back.

"What?"

"Stay." He turned, trying to smile. "I've got eggs, milk, bacon, and bread in the fridge. They'll go off while I'm away." He didn't know how to say what he actually wanted to say, which was: 'Stay. Let me make you breakfast, so it's not another stupid one-night stand between us.'

"What about being seen at Pete's? Or Devi's clothes and accessories still at the hospital?" Hilde hesitated at the door.

"We can grab a coffee at Pete's later, and then swing by the hospital after." Hector turned to face Hilde, finally dropping his charade. "Look. I don't want you to go yet, okay? It feels wrong. Like, this is becoming a thing with us. We do it and you leave, and we never talk about it again ... and I kind of don't want that. I want..."

"What do you want?" Hilde let go of the door handle.

And not that he'd planned this at all, what he'd say to her or even when, he placed the cups beside the coffee plunger and crossed over to her, through the moonlight-draped kitchen. When he reached her, he took her hand and pulled her towards him, close enough to feel intimate, but not walking into the 'I'm your boyfriend now' territory. "I want something more."

There, he finally said it. But his heart squeezed in doubt ever so briefly as those words. Did he really want more? How much more? With Hilde? He was sure? Not the moment for those pesky thoughts to barge in when a sexy woman's standing before him, peering into his eyes, practically melting at his words, asking him, "Something more. What does that mean?"

Hector slipped his other hand into her wet hair and stared at her flawless face, speechless. "I just ..." then he pulled her to him, his lips brushing hers briefly. "I like you a lot." Then deepened the kiss, slowly, intently; pulling her into him once more. His entire body screaming, 'I want you'.

She melted into his arms and our boy took that as a cue for round four. He was gunning to break his record here, the man was, and who better to do it with other than the sexy doctor he'd been fantasising about since she stepped foot in Mystery Cove and flashed him that charming smile.

This could be the start of something beautiful if only there wasn't a flutter of doubt and a whispering of a forbidden name.

Devi.

#

Hector, buzzed on sex and the promise of more 'hot dates' upon his return, drove through the highway, windows rolled down, wind in his short hair. The radio blasting whatever channel he'd had it on last. He wore a smile on his face. This was freedom. The open road, the air, the chance to prove he was a good cop. He could imagine what life would be like if things worked out: Hilde, this case, if it was something he solved before the Sydney team, perhaps a promotion would be in the cards, somewhere where there was more to a beat than booking Gavin for public indecency and chasing drunk teens off the beach. His life could be perfect. Soon.

"And all I have to do is look at their evidence, piece who almost killed Devi, and soak in the win," he murmured proudly to himself, side eyeing the box on the passenger seat. It held all the evidence he'd gathered so far: the khukuri, Devi's clothes, and effects she'd had on her that night, blood stained and tattered or dented; Devi's story, captured in that Dictaphone needing new batteries; his notebook, and last but not least, several digital photos of her injuries on a chip he'd 'borrowed' from Hunter's fancy-schmancy camera because the small station camera no longer worked. Something he suspected was the case since the days of his predecessor.

He had this. That perfect life he envisioned was well and truly in the bag!

Or so he thought.

After driving more than six hours, followed by a struggle to find his way through Sydney's crazy traffic, getting lost multiple times, and fretting about how expensive the parking was, at around four forty-five, just fifteen minutes before the sergeant he was to meet clocked out, Hector finally waltzed into the bustling Surry Hills Police station, a large, cold concrete building said, 'Beware, those who mess with me!' and Hector certainly wasn't there to mess with them, that was for sure. No. He was there to work with them. However, as he entered the station, he felt as insignificant as an ant facing an elephant. Among busy cops, disgruntled detainees, and unhappy families making inquiries, he was invisible. And that was the moment he realised, he may not have this 'in the bag' just yet.

He lined up for the reception and waited impatiently eyeing the large clock on the wall. Hurry up, hurry up, was the chant in his head as the line moved ever so slowly.

A young woman, equally impatient behind him, tapped her feet and huffed now and then; even trying to stop passing officers to see if she could ask them a question.

Everyone's in a hurry here, Hector scanned the foyer, trying not to copy her tapping her foot.

At five minutes past five, he finally got called to the counter, and he immediately blurted, "Is Sergeant Winter still around?"

Behind the barricaded desk that gave Hector an uneasy vibe—was Sydney that dangerous?—was a bored woman in her fifties. She hadn't bothered to look up when she'd yelled, "Next," but the moment he asked about a detective, her head snapped up. "And you are?"

"Constable Hector Martinez, Mystery Cove Police Station." Hector felt his mouth dry at the look the woman gave him.

"Mystery what?"

"A small beach town, down south..." Hector eyed his watch. It was almost a quarter past. Shit. I've probably missed the Sergeant. He drummed a hand on the counter. "My Chief called yesterday to inform the Sergeant I was coming in with information on a missing case he's handling..." He felt his cheeks flush hot. Why was he so nervous facing a receptionist? Get it together, Heck! Get it together, he chided himself, wiping his clammy palms on his pants. He'd worn proper pants today, coupled with an ironed shirt and all.

"Sergeant's done for the day. You're lucky he's still in the building," the woman's tone was brusque and her dull face, unimpressed. "ID?"

Hector fumbled in his pocket for his wallet, rattling off his name, rank, and station. In his nervousness, his wallet, along with the thick chain-linked gold bracelet with a heart charm that was engraved with a loopy 'D.D' that belonged to Devi, fell to the floor, right at the young woman's feet behind him. "Sorry," he mumbled, reaching for the items just as the young woman grabbed them off the floor.

She quickly scanned the wallet, which had fallen open, and the bracelet in her hands before she passed them onto him with a frown. "Lucky you're in a police station."

"Pardon me?"

"I mean, it's Sydney. Outside, someone might have run away with that." She cracked a smile, beaming up at him all innocent. Her brown-eyed dark, set against a creamy skin with a hint of a tan. She flipped her hair, with its blonde highlights. She eyed the bracelet again—a look that made Hector curious. "Look after your stuff here. That's all."

Would she have run away with it, had they been outside? Was that what she was implying? "Thanks." He turned back around to the receptionist and slid his license over so she could verify his name.

The woman behind the counter barely glanced at it before saying, "Wait in the waiting area. Sergeant Winter will get you when he's free."

Hector sat in the waiting area trying to calm his nerves. He was here to assist on a big case and get assistance and access to evidence collected in return. He had a duty to do, towards a victim who was currently worried about her safety and who she could trust.

The young wallet rescuer sat a seat away from him, eyeing him, not that he noticed of course.

He fetched his phone out of his pocket, ready to dial home when the young woman tried to make conversation, "What are you here for?"

"I'm here for help," he answered; surprised anyone was paying him attention.

"Me too." She clutched her handbag to her chest. "A missing person."

"You're missing someone?"

"My mother." She nodded. "My biological mother. She gave me up for adoption as a baby."

"Oh." Hector nodded, unsure how to respond. "You're in touch with your biological mother?"

"I only found out about her a few years ago, but yeah, I was getting to know her when she dropped off the face of the earth." The woman smiled meekly. "Her family doesn't know about me yet, so I come here to see if they have news."

Hector's phone interrupted their chatter, ringing loudly in the foyer, much to the chagrin of others waiting quietly.

One man shushed him aggressively. "Put that shit on silence!"

Hector answered the phone with an apologetic look at the young woman he was talking with. "Hey, Ma," he said with relief, glad to hear a familiar voice. "How are things at home? All good? How's Devi? Did Hilde come during the day to check on you?"

While his mother rattled away, answering his queries, a stocky man in his late forties, in plain clothes, approached him. "Constable Martinez?"

"Sorry, Ma. Talk to you later." Hector cut his mother off mid-sentence, pocketed his phone, and shook the proffered hand. "Sergeant Winter?"

"I thought you weren't coming today, and I was just about to leave." The man nodded curtly and turned, heading for the secured door through which he'd arrived. "Chief Inspector Higgins said you had some information for me. If it wasn't a media headline case, I'd have asked you to come back tomorrow."

"Sorry about that. The traffic was horrendous." Hector hot-footed behind the man, eager not to lag.

#

"Devi Dhungel wasn't so drunk to get tossed in the sea by a swell because she stupidly went for a stroll on the deck despite the weather." Hector eyed the Sergeant and his Leading Senior Constable. "Don't you have CCTV cameras from the night?"

"The yacht had an electric malfunction that took out the outdoor cameras briefly. We only have footage of the interior cameras in common areas at the time of the incident." Sergeant Winter studied Hector from across the conference table. "What makes you say she didn't fall?"

Hector shifted in his seat. This was his moment to be a lion and not the prey. "I'd like to work with you on this case, if I may."

The two men shared a look.

"If your information is good, sure, why not?" The Sergeant leaned back in his seat, weaving his hands together. "Let's hear what you have first."

An hour later, Hector, having gone against Devi's wishes—'please, tell no one I'm still alive'—had told the two officers she was not only alive but that she is his main witness, much to their shock. The Sergeant so keen to see everything he'd brought with him from Mystery Cove even ordered the other man to accompany him to his car after.

"And, perhaps I can go over what you have, and that footage," Hector said, rising from his seat. "Maybe I'll catch something that matches her story."

"Sure. Senior Constable here will get you a copy tomorrow. We'll also need those artefacts now. Send them off to our lab, to verify things ASAP; transcribe that recording, and so forth. Of course, you may also want to get a nurse who can handle this delicate matter, for the time being—keep it on the down low." Sergeant Winter stifled a yawn, walking him through the foyer.

"You're right in assuming she may still be in danger. Changes the course of our investigation, of course, but it's more than we had before ..." the Sergeant was saying as they passed the young woman Hector had conversed with earlier.

"You're a cop!" She lunged in front of him without a warning, blocking his way. She pressed a card into his hand. "Please, help me. Maybe you can tell them I just want know if she's okay ... I'm family ... I am ... and maybe I can help. I just want to help."

"Who's this woman, Constable?" Sergeant asked.

Hector blinked at the woman. How should he know? He'd only been in Sydney, oh, say three hours max.

The Leading Senior Constable leaned into the Sergeant then, whispering something that made the man snap straight, addressing the young woman. "When we know anything, we'll relay it to her family. Please go home. This is not healthy, stalking a police station."

With that, the Sergeant ploughed forward and Hector felt obliged to move on. As he did, he eyed the card she'd slipped into his hand. It was her business card. He read it briefly, and as they stepped out into the cooler evening, blurted, "She's a nurse!"

"What?" the two officers ahead of him stopped and gawked.

"Chaya Bhattarai, Enrolled nurse." Hector held out the card she had slipped him. "Seek and you shall find? The woman in there."

The officers gawked at him.

"For Devi!" He grinned wide. "I need a caretaker, and the woman obviously needs a distraction to keep her occupied. What do you think?"

The Sergeant nodded. "Sure. We'll run a background check on her first."

"And I'll give her a call tomorrow." And thus, day one in Sydney was feeling like a success to our Hector. He'd not only got to the big city intact, but he'd convinced the big honchos to take him seriously, and now he was collaborating with them. Ha! He could have whooped with laughter right there and then. Instead, he said, "Sergeant, I was also thinking, could I interview the sus—witnesses myself? See if I pick up anything from them."

"You're right to say suspects, Constable." Sergeant didn't miss a step, striding onto the street where he turned to say, "Senior Constable Gordon here, will go with you to your car and you can do a proper handover of the evidence. Welcome to the team, Hector." The Sergeant shook Hector's hand. "Look forward to working with you."

Pride ballooned in Hector's chest as the Sergeant said goodnight.

"Shall we?" Gordon, the Leading Senior Constable on the case, a man who'd given Hector nothing but cold vibes, pointed towards the street, prompting him to lead the way to his car. Hector did so with a spring in his step despite the dower man.

I got this. I got this!

Did he 'got' this though? Maybe he did. Maybe Hector Juan Martinez, the bored cop from a small town, finally got his shit together and found his groove. Maybe. Only time would tell. But for now, he definitely had one win. And what a fantastic win it was.