Page 41 of Callous Shot

“Parked outside a field. Look, I didn’t wanna just drive into the estate. We all know I’m not welcome here, and if Daddy Bellingham caught me on camera or something, then…” He trailed off with a shrug.

“My father’s in London,” I cut in.

“Well, I didn’t know that, did I?” He rolled his eyes at me before turning back to my uncle. “It’s irrelevant, anyway. None of you would roll out the red carpet if you saw me coming up your driveway. So yeah, I parked outside.”

“And how did you get from your car to my private residence?”

“I—” He bit down on his lip. “It was the whole camera thing. I didn’t want anyone to see me coming, so I found another way in. No, I’m not gonna say it out loud. You’re not gonna get me for breaking and entering, or whatever.”

Mike sighed. “For the last time, you’re not under arrest.”

“Not until I admit to a crime, anyway,” Daniel shot back. “So…long story short, I took a stroll through the woods and stumbled upon your gingerbread cottage. I’m still not ruling out witchcraft.”

“Alright. You stumbled upon the cottage—and no, witchcraft was not involved. Let’s turn to the reason you were looking for Lincoln. What was so urgent that it had you driving all over the place hunting for him?”

“It wasn’t all over the place. I went to two places, max. I wanted…uh, it was to do with you, actually.”

“Me?” Mike stared at him. “Care to explain?”

For the first time since we’d sat down at the table, a resolute expression came over Daniel’s face. He straightened up, meeting my uncle’s gaze steadily. “Yes. I want your word that Operation Foxglove will immediately drop any investigation into the Attwood clinic.”

There was a long, charged silence. Eventually, Mike cleared his throat. “What makes you think we’re investigating the Attwoods?”

“Because detectives visited the clinic on two separate occasions. They questioned Jay’s dad—uh, I mean, Bryan Attwood—and then they came back and questioned Priya, Nisha, and the rest of the staff.”

“I see.” My uncle’s face gave nothing away.

Daniel leaned forwards, bracing his arms on the table. “Look. I know I’m bad news, and yes, Jay is one of my best friends. But that’s irrelevant. The Attwoods are good people who haven’t done anything wrong. They don’t deserve to be investigated like they’re criminals, when they’re not. Fucking hell, they do so much for the community. I’m a bad person, but they’re not like me. Not even a little bit. They’re good.”

“You’re not a bad person, Daniel,” Mike said softly. Something inside me ached, and I exhaled unsteadily, my fists clenching and unclenching on my thighs.

Daniel laughed humourlessly. “Good joke. We all know that isn’t true. But let’s not get sidetracked, please. This isn’t about me. It’s about a family who⁠—”

“To ease your mind,” Mike interrupted, “I can confirm that they are not currently under investigation. Our visits to the clinic were simply routine interviews.”

“Oh.” All the air seemed to leave him on a long exhale, and he slumped forwards. “That’s good. Uh, thank you. Sorry for, y’know, showing up here. Am I free to leave now?”

“Yes.”

No.

Daniel rose to his feet. He grimaced, rubbing at his temples, before pasting on the fakest smile I’d ever seen on him. “Goodbye, Sergeant. Thanks for your hospitality.” His gaze slid to mine. “See you on the ice, Bellingham.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away from me.

“Wait—” I began, not knowing how I was even going to finish my sentence, but he was already turning back around. Not to me, though. To my uncle.

“Speaking of the ice, can you stop sending your creepy undercover detectives to my games? It’s really off-putting.”

Mike stared at him. “I’m not sending anyone to your games.”

“Of course not.” He rolled his eyes. “Obviously, you’re not gonna admit it. At least tell them to get better at hiding. And you might wanna inform them that they won’t find any evidence of nefarious activity at our games. The rink is a sacred space.”

“Uh-huh,” Mike said non-committally.

“Okay, great talk. See ya.”

He disappeared out of the door, and Mike cleared his throat. “Aren’t you going to go after him?”