Page 98 of Callous Shot

“Things like…”

“Things relating to Operation Foxglove.” He held up a hand, forestalling any further questions. “Look, it’s late, I’m exhausted after last night’s showdown with the head of our local crime firm, and I need to do some investigating of my own at work to make sense of everything. Tell me what you know about these papers.” Striding over to the kitchen table, he tapped his finger on a neat stack of pages.

“Are those⁠—”

“Copies of the papers that apparently came from your apartment? Yes. Now, tell me everything I need to know. And while you’re at it, want to tell me what’s going on between you and Neil Hoyton’s nephew? A nephew who happens to be an active member of the aforementioned local crime firm?”

Swallowing hard, I shook my head. “You don’t need to worry about him.”

“Link,” he said softly, “was there something between you two? Don’t lie to me. Remember, I’ve seen the two of you together.”

“We… I guess we were sort of seeing each other.” I braced myself for the anger that I knew he’d direct at me—rightfully, because there was no world in which a member of the police force would want their nephew involved with a criminal.

“And now?”

“Now we’re not.” Rubbing my hand over my face, I exhaled. “Aren’t you going to give me a lecture about getting involved with him?”

He drummed his fingers on the table, his lips pursed in thought. “If there was something still going on between you, then…we’d have things to discuss. But⁠—”

“It’s over.” My voice cracked on the words, and Mike’s eyes widened. I rushed to continue. “He found those papers in my room, along with a document I had on my laptop that would’ve looked incriminating to him.”

“Link…”

“It’s over. Can we move on? Please?”

“Okay,” he said eventually. “Back to the papers. I’m going to need you to start from the beginning.”

Say what Mike told you to say, then leave, I reminded myself as I stepped into the Whelford University car park and saw the Bentley idling there.

Sliding inside, I steeled myself and turned to face my father.

“Well?” One brow lifted.

“It’s done. I have confirmation from Mike that the Hoyton Firm is under investigation, and I managed to get some useful information that I was able to pass on to him.”

“Good. Perhaps you do have some use after all.” He clapped his hands together. “I trust you will feed any more useful information to Michael. Perhaps when all of this is over and the Hoytons are locked up where they belong, we can have a celebratory dinner. Somewhere public.”

“Sounds good.” I licked my dry lips.

“I’ll be in touch.” He stared at me impatiently until I opened the door and then turned his attention to his phone in a clear dismissal.

I left without another word.

43

LINCOLN

The door leading to the locker rooms swung shut behind my teammates. I was the last one remaining on the ice, exhausted and sweating, but still going, pushing my body to its limits. Anything to postpone the reality that would hit the second I left the rink. The reality I’d been stuck in for the past nine days. Nine days since I’d fucked everything up, possibly irreparably. Nine days in which I’d grown more and more hopeless, failing in all my attempts to reach Daniel. Only the thought of the upcoming game against the Cranham Kings was keeping me going.

My lungs were burning, my muscles were aching, but still I continued to push. My breaths became a harsh rasp over the crack of my stick hitting the puck and the rhythmic glide of my skates, and I gritted my teeth, skating over to the benches. Removing my helmet, I picked up the headphones I’d been using earlier to drown out my own thoughts while I was waiting for my teammates to arrive and connected them to my phone.

With music blasting into my ears, I downed the remaining contents of my bottle of water before returning to the ice. I had to exhaust myself sometime, surely?

The lights suddenly dimmed and then turned off, leaving just the low glow of the security lighting. I came to a flying stop, kicking up a spray of ice, scanning the rink.

The gate opened, and a hooded figure stepped onto the ice, their face obscured by a black mask with blue neon slashes over the eyes and mouth. My heart hammered in my chest as I held myself completely still, waiting to see what he would do. He began to circle the rink in a slow, graceful glide, his circles becoming smaller and smaller, until I could feel the whoosh of air as he skated around me.

He came to a stop right in front of me, and I caught the gleam of a knuckleduster as his hands rose.