Esther has dealt with a lot of heartbreak during her marriage to Brian, but can she stay strong when he crosses the line? Warning: domestic violence.

Sandra Pullman settled down on her sofa, wrapped in a blanket against the chill of a cold, rainy London night, with a glass of white wine beside her on the lamp table. She and her "boys" had spent the week tracking down a serial killer – it had been a gut-gnawing case – but they had caught him, and it was time for some rest and relaxation. Sandra flipped through the TV channels, finally choosing at random an old black and white movie from the 1940s. Soon she was immersed in the story.

The doorbell rang, and Sandra started. 'Oh, God, not another case,' she thought. 'Not tonight.'

The bell rang again just as she reached the door and opened it. To her great surprise, Esther Lane was on her doorstep, standing in the pouring rain wearing only her pajamas and shoes. She didn't have a hat, coat, or even a bag, just her keys in her left hand and the other hand shielding her face.

"Esther! For heaven's sake, come in out of the rain! Is something wrong?" Esther didn't answer, but as soon as she lowered her hand and Sandra saw her face in the brighter light of the hallway, she knew. "Bloody hell," she murmured, her eyes wide. "Let's get you out of those soaked clothes."

Esther barely nodded, following Sandra to the downstairs bathroom. "There're towels in there, get dried off and I'll bring you something to wear." As Esther closed the bathroom door, Sandra ran upstairs and looked for something that the smaller woman could wear without looking like a circus clown. Finally, she found some sweatpants with a drawstring and the smallest t-shirt she had, as well as a dressing gown with a belt. She handed them in to Esther, then took an icepack out of the freezer.

'Christ, they already look worse,' she thought when Esther had sat down beside her on the sofa. Esther had wiped off the blood running from the lacerations on her forehead, around her right eye, and on her lip, making the developing bruises stand out even more.

Sandra gave Esther the icepack and cut straight to the chase. "Did he come home drunk?"

"Yes. He was making a lot of noise and he woke me up." She almost whispered it, looking ashamed.

"Then what happened?" Esther hesitated, so Sandra placed a hand on her arm for support, but when Esther winced, she knew there must be more bruises than the ones she could see. She felt sick when she pulled up the sleeve of the dressing gown and saw a clear imprint of Brian's fingers. "Has this ever happened before, Esther?"

"No, never. Not even when he was drinking the most. I don't know what I did this time to –" her voice broke, and she looked down quickly, but Sandra saw the tears in her eyes, as well as the hurt and the fear.

She put her arm around Esther's shoulders. "It's okay," she murmured. "You can cry, it's an awful thing to happen and it wasn't your fault."

"But I was scolding him for drinking, and I don't think I should have – I need to be more understanding –"

"Listen to me, Esther." Sandra tried to get the other woman to look her in the eye, finally resorting to gentle pressure on her left cheek to turn her gaze. "It's not your fault. No one deserves this kind of treatment, and you certainly don't. You've suffered with Brian long enough. This time he's crossed the line. This time he'll have to face the consequences. How did all this happen?"

"He – he –" Her voice wavered, but she managed to regain control. "He came home with more drink even though he was already staggering. I yelled at him and – and he cursed at me. He hit me with a liquor bottle – it broke. That's how I got these cuts."

Sandra gasped. "He could've had your eye out! How does your head feel? Do you need to go to hospital?"

"No, it's all right. I didn't pass out or anything, but I was frightened out of my mind. I tried to run out of the room and he grabbed my arm, hard. Then he punched me in the jaw. He fell over in the process and I took the opportunity to run. I only stopped to get my car keys, I didn't care if I had anything else. I just wanted to get away from him."

"That's horrible," Sandra sympathized, taking Esther's hand in hers. Then she reached across to the other side of the coffee table and picked up her mobile phone. "I'd like to take some pictures."

"No, please don't –"

"Esther, believe me, it's important to have pictures. He probably won't remember what happened, and if we don't show him proof, he won't believe us. We can't go confront him now-" Sandra didn't miss the way Esther stiffened, or the look of fear on her face.

"No, he was passed out by the time I left."

"Then he definitely won't remember. Please?"

Esther hesitated, then nodded her head. She sat very still while Sandra took several pictures of the lacerations and bruises on her face and arm.

Then she stood. "I have to make some phone calls, but I'll be right back." As she was walking into the kitchen, Esther asked nervously, "Who are you calling?"

"Jack and Gerry."

Gerry was watching a football game when his mobile sounded. It was from Sandra, a text message with an attachment, and he noticed that Jack had received it as well. He opened the text first. "Come over right away." Gerry was perplexed; if it were a case, Sandra would have called rather than texted. Then he opened the attachment and understood. He quickly collected his wet weather gear and headed for Sandra's house.

Jack was just getting out of his car when Gerry drove up. He looked grim. "I guess you saw the photo?"

"Yeah, it's terrible. I would never have guessed Brian would hurt Esther, no matter how pished he was."

Jack rang the doorbell, and the door was opened almost immediately. "Shh," Sandra whispered, "She's asleep on the sofa. Let's go in the kitchen."