Chapter Text
“Where to then, sir?”
Hardy decided not to make a liar out of himself, even if he had a sudden qualm about showing up on his daughter's doorstep. She probably wouldn't even want him to, and that was not something he wanted to face, even if he knew he wanted to be close to her. Fixing his relationship with his daughter was the only purpose he had left now that the Sandbrook case was done.
Oh, there was trying to reopen Miller's case, put that bent husband of hers away, but that wasn't something he felt would happen any time soon. Joe would be careful. He'd gotten free, so he'd want to keep that. He might take his time in the press, make himself look the victim as his defense team had made him out to be, but other than that, he'd be smart to keep his head down and try and move on, live some sort of quiet life.
“Sandbrook,” Hardy said, leaning back against the seat and closing his eyes.
The taxi pulled away, moving into the other traffic, and Hardy dug into his pocket, taking out his phone.
He pulled up the screen and started typing. Daisy, it's Dad. Know you're probably busy, but I will be in town later tonight. If you're free, you want to get something to eat? Dinner. Or dessert. Or nothing. Just... think about it, yeah?
He grimaced when he read it over, but he sent it anyway, knowing that he wouldn't manage anything better if he did try and rewrite it, so there was no point.
Still, he felt a little better for sending it, making his first attempt to close the gap between him and his daughter.
Daisy got her father's text in the middle of her friends, and she backed away from them to look at it, frowning. She knew her father, knew the way he communicated—short and sharp or winding and rambling, babbling on because he was just that bad with people. He'd been nervous about that message he'd sent her.
She sighed. She wanted to see her father, needed to know for herself that he was fine—no more broken heart, he'd claimed but was that true? Had her mother lied when she said he was recovering? Was that why he hadn't called?
“Daize, you're coming with us, right?”
She thought about what they were supposed to be doing that night and nodded, putting her phone away and forcing a smile.
If she changed her mind, she could always text her father later.
Besides, he'd be too tired to do anything when he got here, right?
“You remember what I told you?”
Hardy frowned at his mother, not sure what she meant. She'd said many things over his lifetime, and it wasn't like he could just pin one of them down and say it was the one, especially not now, not when she was so confused and all over, barely aware of where she was or who she was talking to.
Least she never mistook him for his father. He didn't think he could have stood for that.
“Never said it wouldn't be without pain.”
Hardy blinked, still confused. “I don't—”
“God puts you where you're supposed to be,” she said, and he just stared at her. “Though sometimes it hurts.”
“You telling me that this—” he had to stop his rant, all the angry words coming at him, “this is where you're supposed to be?”
“God puts you in the right place at the right time,” she insisted. “Even if you don't know it at the time.”
He shook his head. Un-bloody-believable.
The motor stopped, and Hardy jerked awake, frowning. He'd expected not to stop before reaching Sandbrook, though he supposed even cab drivers were human, needing facilities and the like, though he hadn't wanted to stop and would prefer just to get to Sandbrook. He needed to book a room for the night and try Daisy again.
She didn't want to see him. He had to accept that.
He started to stretch, and the door next to him jerked open. He turned, about to give the driver or whoever the hell it was a dressing down, but a rag came at his face, and he couldn't breathe. His heart sped up, and he pushed weakly at the rag, trying to get it away from him. He felt the pacemaker go off just before everything went dark.
“Is this DS Miller?”
Ellie grimaced, checking the number and wondering why she'd been stupid enough to answer her phone without looking in the first place. She knew better than that with Joe out there. Wasn't like she really thought he was going to accept that he wasn't coming back, did she?
No, if she was honest, she didn't believe it. She thought he'd be back, that he'd try again to get to his sons. He might even try to get Tom in a position to finish what he'd started with Danny.
“It is. I'm not giving any bloody interviews and I—”
“Did my father really leave Broadchurch?”
Ellie tensed, frowning. “Your father? Who the hell is—Oh, no. Tell me you are not Daisy Hardy.”
“I am,” the girl on the other end of the line said. “Please. I got this number from my mother who thinks I'm overreacting, but Dad texted me saying he'd be in town tonight, but he should have been here by now, and he's not. Yeah, sure, maybe he's late, or maybe his broken heart isn't as fixed as he told me it was—what if he's dead somewhere along the way?”
“You haven't heard from your father since he texted you he was leaving Broadchurch?”
“No,” Daisy answered. “I thought maybe he was upset I didn't answer back right away—I had plans, and I was trying to figure out how to say I didn't want to see him—but I did want to see him—and so I said I couldn't. Then... Hour later, I felt guilty. Said I did.”
“Said?”
“Sent a text. He didn't answer. I thought maybe he was mad after the first one, so upset he wouldn't even look at the next one, so I... I called. I called and called, over and over again. I tried to tell myself he was just asleep or in a bad service area, but he hasn't picked up. Not once, and it's been hours. It's going right to the mail now.” Daisy's voice had increased in speed and pitch as she spoke, sounding increasingly more agitated and panicked. “Dad's not answering. Could his pacemaker have failed? Is he dead?”
Ellie winced. She didn't know, but now that she'd heard Daisy's version of events, she was concerned. “I... I didn't wait around for him to take his cab. He said not to, and we're not—”
“Can you make sure that Dad left when he said he did? Can you do that trace thing on his phone? Can we make sure he's not dead?”
“Yes,” Ellie agreed, knowing that she would call in every favor she ever had to make sure that knob hadn't gotten himself killed somewhere along the motorway.
Hardy gasped for air, dragging himself up out of the river and into awareness. He blinked, trying to make sense of where he was.
A shadow loomed over his face. “I'm not that kind of man. I'm not.”