Coming into work after Danny Latimer's murderer walked free was tough. Coming into work after solving the Sandbrook case was harder.

Alec had expected it to be easier. He'd solved the case. He'd brought justice to the Gillespies. That was his entire life goal, right? Right. And now that it was solved, well... what next? What would he do now? And when would he really start to feel better?

The weight of her didn't go away. He could still feel Pippa's body, her tiny, fragile, waterlogged body cradled in his arms. He could still feel the rush of the river around him, the cold splash of it against his back as he plunged in to get her. He could still feel the horrible cold spike that seemed to run through his heart as he gathered up her little body. He tripped on the horror and slipped beneath the water, feeling it force its way down his throat and choke him, just another casualty of the case.

In a way, wasn't he a casualty already? His marriage had been ripped to shreds, and it had taken his career with it. Exiled from his family down to sleepy little Broadchurch. He'd barely just arrived and another kid had died. Was he cursed? He supposed so.

He sat at his desk, wearing the thousand-yard stare. He'd fulfilled his reason to live. What was left now?