Page 177 of In Too Deep

“Last known contact?” Control asked.

“Approximately zero seven hundred hours this morning.” Harrison rubbed a hand hard across his mouth. “Last known location, Larkspur Lane.”

His own bloody address.

Christ.

“He was heading for Lancaster Industrial Estate. Construction site linked to the current murder investigation.”

“Understood, sir. Stand by for the SPOC.”

The line clicked across.

Harrison lowered the phone and looked at Teddy.

The kid looked frightened.

Harrison knew he should reassure him. Tell him Jake was probably fine. That there were a dozen perfectly innocent explanations for why his phone was dead and no one had heard from him.

But he couldn’t make the words come.

Because somewhere between Jake driving out of Larkspur Lane that morning and Harrison standing in this miserable little bedsit now, the fear Harrison had been running from since the moment he first wanted Jake had finally caught up with him.

He now knew exactly how much there was still left in him to lose.

His phone rang, and he answered. “Go.”

“Sir, Whitton’s phone last connected to the network at Unit Twelve, Lancaster Industrial Estate, just after four. Nothing since.”

chapter twenty-two

Find the Rhythm

If Harrison found Jake Whitton wandering around this building because he’d chased another lead by himself, he was going to throttle him personally.

Fucking hell.

What had the man been thinking?

He’d dropped Teddy back at Jake’s parents twenty minutes earlier. Told him everything was fine. That Jake was exactly where Harrison expected him to be. That this was all a misunderstanding. Jake being Jake. Somehow that hadn’t reassured Teddy. Or perhaps the kid had simply recognised the lie and decided not to challenge it. Children who’d spent their lives surrounded by tragedy were very good at recognising bullshit.

There, there. Everything’s fine. Don’t worry. She’s only missing.

But things weren’t fine.

Because he knew Jake. Knew how his mind worked. Jake saw problems and walked straight into them. He pushed. Prodded. Asked questions. Climbed through doors marked KEEP OUT. Half the arguments they’d had over the past few weeks could be traced back to Jake’s inability to leave well enough alone. Ordinarily, Harrison found that infuriating.

Tonight it was terrifying.

Especially now.

Because while Harrison had been looking for Jake, Calder had been looking for Roman Levenson.

So far, neither of them had found their man.

And Jake’s last phone activity had been here. Lancaster Industrial Estate. Not somewhere vague. Not a nearby road. And not Unit Four, where Paul Levenson had claimed Jake was working.

Unit Twelve.