Title: The Day is Closing In

Pairing: Grace/Boyd

Rating: K+

Spoilers: Up to and including season six to be on the safe side

Authors Notes: I'm not yet sure where is this is going to sit in terms of the time line or the present series. My intention is for it to follow on from Season seven so it may appear vague in earlier chapters

Disclaimer: Waking the Dead does not belong to me and I always return the characters unharmed.

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The Day Is Closing In

Part One

"The problem with bodies this old is that any evidence that might have been there has been removed by the ravages of time," Eve announced, looking around at each of the room's occupants in turn.

Boyd glared back at her, his impatience evident for all to see.

"I can't tell whether they were raped," she continued ignoring his frustration. "So far there doesn't seem to be any indicators of torture, well . . ."

"You're sounding more like Grace every day."

Four pairs of eyes turned rapidly to stare at Spencer.

He wisely kept his mouth shut, not even trying to explain away his comment. Beside him Stella grinned, stifling her usual taunting.

"There are no visible nicks to the bones, or at least none pre-mortem so that rules out a knife, just a few little critters. No sign of a gunshot wound, but if it went into tissue I wouldn't expect to find one. I am trying to get a bone expert to come and take a look in case I've missed anything," Eve explained, as frustrated as the rest of them that there appeared to be no evidence. " The lack of clothing remains suggests they were wearing cotton but the women all went missing in Summer so . . ."

"Strangled?" Grace asked, trying to move the discussion forward to something positive, her eyes darting frequently to Boyd, noting he was folding and unfolding his arms across his chest, his temper barely controlled.

Eve nodded. "That was my conclusion but I'm missing some of the bones."

Boyd rose to his feet and began to pace, trying to keep his frustration checked. Reciting the Tempest had long since ceased to work which only left focusing his mind on something else. That wasn't working either.

"I'm going to head out to the farm later." The farm she was referring to was her body farm, her experiments and the place she seemed to spend most nights. "I want to compare my results with my patients. See if it answers some of my questions."

"I'd settle for one of my questions," Boyd grumbled.

"Maybe Spence should come," Stella interjected with a smirk.

"Huh?" Sometimes Spence just couldn't follow the thread of the conversation.

"It would be the closest you've got to a woman in weeks."

Grace chuckled despite herself. In recent weeks the constant ribbing of Spence had become more obtuse. His own fault, she had to conclude. For a smart man he had been incredibly stupid and Eve and Stella were not going to let him forget in a hurry.

Boyd wandered back into his office, his door closing firmly behind him.

Grace took a deep breath. "Why don't you head on out, Eve. There's not a lot more we can achieve here tonight." She rose to her feet, moving towards the closed office door.

"That mean I can take off, too?" Spencer Jordan asked hopefully, salivating over the image of a quick pint on the way home.

She turned, almost grinning. "Yeah, if you want to invoke the wrath of God." He didn't answer when she knocked and as usual she didn't wait. "Something on your mind?" Grace asked, settling herself on a chair.

He shrugged, his back to her as he continued to struggle to control himself. "Just the usual."

"Ah."

He turned and gave her what for all intents and purposes was a smirk. "That's it? Ah?"

"There's little I can do to ease your frustration," she said lightly, pressing her lips together. "Ok, there's little I can do in the office," she corrected at his smile.

"I have blinds."

She ignored him. "You wanna finish the board?"

"Sometimes Grace you're just a spoil sport." He suddenly became serious. "I just hate that we're working through evidence twenty years old."

Grace waited patiently, not wanting to point out the obvious.

"Whatever evidence might have been left on the bodies is gone and they didn't have the resources we do now."

"Eve has gone over Caroline Hedges body with a fine toothcomb and there's nothing. She's run every possible test." So far they had nothing, just three dead women and very little to go on. Patience unfortunately wasn't Boyd's forte. "What do you want us to do tonight?"

The case had been theirs for less than forty-eight hours and as much as he would have liked to have solved it in seventy-two it was never going to happen. Instead it would be slow and painstaking as they tried to piece together the pieces of the puzzle. "I want to interview the families of the victims, Caroline's first."

"It's six thirty, Boyd. Tomorrow morning would be better."

He glanced at his watch and back at her. "In other words you want me to send them home." Their relationship had developed over the eight years they had been working together to the point where he could almost predict what she would say and do.

"They do their best work on a good night's sleep," she offered, watching him closely, for once guarding her words.

"Is that a gentle dig?"

"You finished my cross word, not to mention the coffee," she replied dryly.

He looked away and retorted, "Don't worry I'll be staying at my place until this is over."

She sighed audibly, wondering as she so frequently did how he could be so obtuse. Accustomed as she was to living alone the sound of footsteps on the landing and soft light drifting under the door frame awoke her. Not wanting to antagonise him she hadn't mentioned it until now. A part of her hoped he would tell her what was bothering him, instead he had gone on the defensive. "That's not what I was. . ." It was not what she wanted.

Boyd rose to his feet, walking past her and opening the door. "Against my better judgment you can go home. Be here early." He left the door ajar as he made his way back to his desk. "You should go too."

Grace hesitated before she made her way towards the door. When he was like this, in one of his moods there was no getting through to him, common sense told her to leave him to deal with it, or not as so was often the case. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Night, Grace." He waited for her to close the door behind her before he let out a deep breath. At times they fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw, made to be together, but other times they seemed to rub each other up the wrong way, discourse the first outlet for their emotions. Even so he could never let her go without using her name, without connecting to her. Finally he made himself comfortable behind his desk and opened the first file, preparing himself for a long night.