She had smoked almost a full pack of Marlboro lights before reaching Kildare. Being stuck in the bottlenecked traffic didn't inspire her to cut back so she lit another and pulled the window down. The traffic had stalled now allowing her to scrunch down on the seat and peer out at the flat horse filled fields that surrounded her.

'Oh come on for Christ's sake', she moaned, annoyed by the persistent delay. Terry had left Limerick at 7.43 that morning. It was now 9.31 and she was still in Co. Kildare. The road that left the town was large and would bring her right to Dublin's city centre but the town hadn't got it's promised bi-pass yet so all the traffic that piled from the cities to the Southwest and Northeast got stuck on the twin lane road.

Sitting there annoyed Terry for more than that reason. Her mind was no longer required to guide the car through the small towns and villages that populated the journey from Limerick to Dublin. It was allowed to relax and dream. Her dreams were not good ones since the Sherlock International case. It was because of this that she left her firm in Limerick to start fresh in the capital. The media never left her alone. The still didn't and it, amongst others, had taken its toll. Her therapist had suggested she stay in Limerick and work out her problems with her son's foster father, with her crumbling relationship with Sean, with her firm but she didn't care about any of it anymore. She cared about little since seeing her son's foster mother lying on an ambulance stretcher; her body hidden beneath a red blanket. The pictures that flashed through her head startled her back to reality and she darted up from her slouched position and pushed on the accelerator almost hitting the waiting car in front. The traffic hadn't moved but Terry wanted to get out of there. Would she always want to get out of where she was? How could she live this way... how?

She waved apologetically to the driver in front whose facial expression was one of alarm as he saw Terry dart up and her car pounce forward. He signalled his appreciation by smiling softly in his mirror and waving. She responded with tears growing in her eyes. She was getting more and more frustrated by the traffic and started to fidget in the seat. Pulling her window down as far it would yield she reached for the passenger window and did the same. She was panicked and was becoming increasingly irritated. She swung the door of her Ford Scorpio open and jumped on to the grassy verge that kept her there. Reaching back quickly she grabbed her cigarettes from the passenger seat and lit one almost immediately. Her hands shook as she walked around the verge, the smoke forming large clouds as the tip hung from the cigarettes top barely keeping contact with the shaft. She reached again for her lighter, knocked off the broken end and lit the shaft again.

'Are you okay', the guy in front asked as his window lower automatically.

'Yeah, yeah I'm fine... sorry about before. The car... ah... jolted when I restarted it. I keep meaning to have it looked at'.

'Traffic's a bitch eh? I don't know how many times I've been parked here waiting for the build up to clear', he added smiling, obviously bored by the situation.

'Yeah... I normally get the train but I have a lot of stuff with me this trip so... Well as you can see I took the car', she replied walking towards his window, glad of the conversation. It brought her mind back into focus.

The conversation that followed was nonsense and therefore enjoyable. Discussing life and politics with a stranger can be a very enjoyable thing because of the honesty displayed between both parties. Why lie when you're unlikely to meet again. It becomes a time to let loose on concepts you normally shield from more formidable friends.

As he laughed at Terry she smiled truthfully for the first in a long time. Silence fell after that but was interrupted graceously by the cars in front moving forward.

'Well I guess that's me. Have a good journey then... if you're bored sometime give me a call eh... as friends. Here's my card'. He reached inside his pocket and passed her a white business card. She looked at it with caution but smiled while reading it.

'Another shrink eh, just what I need. Thanks... I might give you a call when I get settled', she responded, walking backwards to her car. 'You have a good journey too'.

When she reached her car and sat in the driver seat she looked ahead, ready to respond to a polite wave. He was gone and the cars behind started to become impatient with Terry's delayed departure. 'God, he was in a hurry to get away... I guess I must have been worse than I thought', she joked to herself, trying to ignore the noise of the horns sounding from the rear. Impatient bastards she thought as she accelerated away from the verge.

Ten minutes later she had left the country roads and was on the motorway. There was so much room to manoeuvre that she accelerated to about 120 kph and swayed from side to side, passing between the other cars on the road. She had been caged for long enough and it was time to stretch her wings. The smoothness of the road made her car almost silent and her mind began to drift slightly, maintaining enough sense to drive safely but powering down enough to move with the car as it banked slightly from one lane to the next and back again. She reached for the radio and tuned to the first station that played music, difficult to find with today's hyper-talkative DJ's. She coninued in sceen saver mode.

The music jumped from the speakers filling the car with sound. Terry smiled and bobbed her head in tune continuing to manoeuvre the car dangerously trough the uncondensed traffic. She didn't care about the other drivers or their reactions. She was having fun and it had been a long time since she had felt free enough to enjoy it. Her mind stayed relaxed until the traffic concentrated at the first traffic lights coming off of the motorway. She had arrived at the city suburbs. She was home again. Home to the city that had given her her first chance to prove she could be a good lawyer. She proved then all wrong when she over performed and became a great lawyer. It took its toll on her also, driving her to drugs and drink but that was in the past. The problem had never been that serious, not like those people in 'Trainspotting'. Her life was bad then but she'd recovered with the help of some friends, namely her assistant. She moved semi-fast through the streets as they grew thinner and more arthritic. Tuning the corner at Heuston Station she greeted the city with a sigh as she looked up the Liffey at the apartment buildings, office blocks, churches and shops. 'Here we go', she thought nervously, turning down the radio as the traffic became more epileptic.

Rita had contacted some of her friends in her former apartment building near Christchurch Cathedral. One of the front apartments was empty so Terry jumped at the opportunity and sent a deposit cheque the same day. She knew the building from her last time in the city although had never been inside. She didn't want to go apartment hunting so took the space blind. She had rented a trailer from Budget and filled it with all her stuff from Charlottes Quay. She owned the apartment there and decided to hold onto it in case Dublin didn't work out either. It was a possibility and she didn't want to find herself on her own if things turned bad again.

She peered at the new corporation buildings in the heart of the city as she turned onto Christchurch Avenue and headed towards Jury's Inn. The apartment building was right alongside but the car park only allowed key holder to enter so she drove into the hotel forecourt and headed for their car park.

Turning onto the ramp a elderly man walked out and held his hand up mimicking a halt motion. Terry cursed under her breath but appeared to smile.

'Are you a guest at the hotel madam', the man asked in a north Dublin accent. She wondered how long he had been a car park attendant.

'Am yes. Room no. 5.... 526', she replied confidently, lying through her teeth.

'526... good try, there isn't a 526, now if you wouldn't mind backing off of the ramp and making your way back onto the street I'd be grateful as would security', he responded in uncaring bus conductor fashion.

'Thanks for nothing you prick', Terry shouted at the unpleasant imp, 'if you think you're going to get employee of the week you've got the wrong idea. Jesus, you'd think you were guarding the crown F***in' jewels'.

She angrily drove her car forward and braked at the old man's knees, smiled and then reversed, only stopping to shout 'asshole' at the serious attendant whose job probably didn't qualify him to participate in an employee of the week system. Out of the hotel forecourt, she sped on to the main street and drove quickly around the hotel and onto a bleak looking street to its, and the apartment blocks rear. 'Shit', she muttered to herself as she parked, 'This place looks a bit crime ridden'. Looking around the street she saw the typical 70's inner city developments. Horrid brick flats, formerly red but dark brown from the city grim, littered the low skyline absorbing almost all the light that entered from the grey sky above. 'God what am I doing', she thought, remembering Charlottes Quay with the fresh clear Shannon waters roaring past her front window. 'Were things getting that bad'. Taking a deep breath she answered her question positively and decided to leave the car and walk back past the old asshole to the apartment block, get her key and park in her own space beneath the building.

Terry hated the beeping her car made when she activated her alarm. She felt pompous. Some people probably bought cars because it beeped when the alarm was activated. 'Yes... we have an alarm...ahahaha', she shuddered thinking about the Henry and Henrietta's, George and Georgina's that bought cars under such, and many other, pretences. 'Got to get a Ka I suppose', she laughed to herself thinking about how cramped it must be inside the new style city cars.

As she left the grimy street she looked back at the car, checking that it was still there, with all its accessories. It was and they were, so she left it there to fend for itself and walked back along the path that had taken her there. Passing Jury's she peered at the entrance to the car park hoping to make eye contact with her first enemy. He was unavailable for insult, hiding behind the first structural pillar on his stool, ready to pounce on the next invalidated intruder.

'God I gotta calm down', she though, aggravated both by his reaction and her response to it. 'He was only doing his job but... why so well... anyway calm down here we are'.

Ringing the buzzer she head the lock open and the door release. Walking through the large modern doorway she was greeted by a man similar in appearance to the car park attendant. 'God, it's the imp's brother', she thought opening the conversation with: 'I'm Terry Brown. I'm moving in today'.

'Ms. Brown, hello. I've been expecting you. Travel light do you', he laughed in response, probably sensing her irritable nature, something new even to Terry.

'No', she laughed in response, 'it's all in my car, or it was when I left it on that street to the rear of the building. Can I get my key or code and park in the underground park'.

'Of course you can. I'll get it for you but I can't come with you. They go mad if I'm not sitting her on my perch 24 hours a day. They'll probably buy me a potty-chair for Christmas so I can go to the toil... Oh well never mind all that, here you go, be quick thought, that lot can hide under a leaf if there's a stereo available'.

'I will, thanks....', Terry politely enquired about his identity?

'Will... or The Hunchback of Christchurch square if you wish; I'll leave it up to you eh', he joked at Terry as she smiled, left the foyer and walked quickly along the cold street back to her car.

No sign of the attendant this time either. 'Best thing', she muttered. Will had cheered her up. It was a nice welcome to her new home and she thought that maybe he'd be a father figure, although she knew she was being a bit, if not a lot, premature in her outlook. Still you gotta have some kinda picture of the future, best to keep it optimistic.

Leaving the open, bright space of Christchurch square Terry marched back onto the street to rear of her new home. It seemed even grimier than before as the clouds blackened to near saturation. 'Shit, I hope it doesn't rain while I'm out here', she thought, walking faster now. Her car was still parked on the street ands appeared to be untouched. Untouched until she noticed the trailer move to the rear of the car.

'Hey, you get the F*** out of my stuff', she shouted now running towards the container. The occupants were already out of its rear and making there way back into the dirt from where they came. 'Ah... SHIT', she shouted reaching the trailer. Her car had been left alone, the beeping alarm both alerting and deterring the criminals. 'Useless piece of crap', she shouted at the car, hoping to hurt it's feeling.

The contents of her trailer where upturned and chaotic. She pulled down the door and threw the broken lock across the street towards the missing thieves. 'You might as well take this you F***in' urchin's. Not much bloody good now is it'.

She marched angrily to the front of the car and got in, smacking the steering wheel. The engine started promptly as it always did and the radio came on. She was about to pull away from the curb when the news caught her attention.

'.....The body has been removed from the weir and is currently in transit to the city morgue for forensic analysis. The Gardai on scene where giving little away but fowl play is not being discounted at this time. Our reporter, Michael Flyn is there... Michael, have you found out anything else since we last spoke'?

The on scene reporter cut in....

'Hi Joan... Well, as you're aware the daughter of the Minister of Justice has been missing for approximately three days now. It was not well understood whether she had left home under her own volition or whether she had been taken as no communication has or had been received since her disappearance. The body of the girl found has been loosely classed as being slim in her early twenties with fair hair. Although complete speculation on my part that description, coming at this time, would match very well the MOJ's daughter Clare but as such it is too early to confirm. What is adding to my worry is that the number of officers here is unprecedented for such an incident, as is their secrecy about it? I guess all we can do is hope that this is just speculation and that it doesn't become fact. For RTE news this has been Michael Flyn, from a cold and dismal Dublin Bay Weir.'

The in-studio anchor continued to stretch the story out as Terry accelerated away from the dark curb and made her way to the underground car park. 'Good God', she thought, hoping that it WAS speculation. The political and judicial consequences of such an act would bear down heavily on those responsible. The first suspect would of course be the Drug Cartels in the city. A new bill was being forced through by the Minister to give the Gardai more powers, much more, in their battle to curb the drug-related crime in the city. It also allowed for Jury free trials, something going against the very nature of fair justice. Terry was worried about the consequences such a crime bill would have on law in the country. It affected her directly because the bill had been introduced because of the Sherlock International scandal that she had brought to a chilling end in Limerick only months before. 'I hope to God I don't have to get involved', she thought, turning onto the ramp of her new home.