Page 45 of In Too Deep

“I’m coming round. Now.” Jake tossed what was left of his tea onto the gravel, ended the call and dropped the rest of his butty where he stood, grease soaking straight through the paper as he headed for the van.

“Oi! Whitton!” Roman’s voice carried after him. “Where you going?”

Jake glanced back. Roman was watching him from beside the burger van, but Jake couldn’t stand there explaining Robyn to this lot. Couldn’t stay laying fucking roofing while his mum was crying, his dad was losing his shit and Teddy might be one swipe of a phone away from seeing his mother’s photograph plastered beside a story about a body pulled from the river.

And Harrison had known.

That was the bit Jake couldn’t get past.

Harrison had been in his bed last night. Had held him. Slept beside him. He’d known there was an unidentified woman in the river and somehow hadn’t thought Jake needed to know there was even the slightest fucking chance—

No.

Jake yanked open the van door and climbed inside. His hands shook badly enough that it took two attempts to get the key into the ignition. Then he dragged his phone back out, found Harrison’s number and hit call.

Straight to voicemail.

Jake hung up and tried again.

Voicemail.

He snapped. “Fucking answer me!”

He then hurled the phone across the cab. It struck the metal frame beside the passenger window with a vicious crack before dropping into the footwell.

Silence.

“Fuck.”

He lunged across, snatched it from the floor and jabbed at the screen. Nothing. A white fracture had burst across one corner, splintering through the display beneath. He pressed the side button.

Still nothing.

“Fucking brilliant.”

He tossed the useless thing onto the passenger seat, started the engine and rammed the van into gear. Voices rose behind him. Confused. Annoyed. Roman shouting something Jake couldn’t make out.

Nor could he care.

He pulled out hard, leaving his tools, the new job and the couple of grand he’d just talked himself into desperately needing behind him.

Because some things still came before money.

And Robyn always fucking would.

Chapter six

Burden of Death

Harrison threw his pen onto the briefing room table.

It struck the plastic with a crack, skidded, then dropped to the floor. He didn’t bother picking it up. Then he stripped his blazer off and flung it over the back of the chair with a sharp slap and loosened his tie until it hung open at his throat. He needed space. Air. Somewhere the walls weren’t closing in.

Twenty-four hours.

Twenty-four fucking hours.

That’s all it had taken.