Page 144 of Too Close To Home

“He loves me.”

The words came too quickly. Too emphatically. And this time Harrison didn’t feel the same sharp pinch. He felt something else. Brodie wanted him to believe this.

Why?

“I see.” Harrison glanced down at his notes. “And when did Andy help you with the car?”

“Earlier that day.” Brodie then gasped, covering a hand over his mouth. “You don’t think he had something to do with Emily going missing, do you? God… that’d be awful, wouldn’t it? That Jake were right all along.”

“Hm.” Harrison closed his notebook with a quiet snap. “Thank you, Brodie. If you could think about what you spoke about, anything else you remember, let me know.”

“Actually…” Brodie scrubbed a hand over his head, frowning as if something had clicked. “He was asking about the bar staff. What time do we finish. I thought he meant the band, you know? Didn’t think…” He trailed off, swallowing. “Jesus. You don’t think…?”

Harrison’s phone rang, and for once the interruption felt welcome.

Then Brodie called out behind him. “Is there going to be a reward for information?”

Harrison glanced back at him, then fished out his phone from his pocket and turned away to answer. “DI Black. Go on.”

“Sir, it’s Calder.”

Harrison pushed out of the pub, the cooler air hitting him as the door swung shut behind him. “Yep, go on.”

“Search team’s come back from Andy Mitchell’s flat. You’ll want to get down here. We’ve got something we could use for a charge.”

Harrison frowned. “Seriously?” He rubbed his temples. He should feel something. Relief, maybe. Progress. Instead, a dull unease settled in. “What did they find?”

“A folder. Photos, a map, and a notebook,” Calder said. “Reads like something out of a horror film, sir.”

“All relating to Emily?”

“No, sir. Robyn Whitton. But it’s detailed. Enough to give us a location, and something to push him with in interview.”

Harrison stared out at the wet street. “We’ll need an extension. We’re not charging on that alone.”

“Aye, sir. I’ll get it moving.”

“I’m on my way.”

He killed the call and headed straight for the car, rain catching on his coat as he moved. This should’ve been it. The turn. The moment it all lined up. But it felt wrong.

And he couldn’t tell if that was instinct, or Jake Whitton getting under his skin.

Chapter twenty

Structural Weakness

Jake didn’t get a call from Harrison that night.

Not that he’d been waiting for it.

Except, of course, he had.

He’d kept his phone within reach. On the side. In his hand. Face down, then flipped back again as if that might make it light up faster.

It didn’t.

And all his fussing wasn’t only about Andy Mitchell. Which was odd. For thirteen years, Jake had carried that man like a splinter under his skin. The way he’d hovered around Robyn. The way he’d made her smaller, quieter. Afraid. The rumours he’d spread after she turned him down—about Teddy, her, things that had no right being said out loud.