Page 12 of Hooked On The One That Got Away (Miss Lovelock’s Agency for Broken Hearts #3)

Chapter Twelve

The text arrived at seven the next morning.

It gave a location and a list of things to watch out for.

If Willow spotted any of the above, she was to take photographs, note the date and time, and upload to a secure website.

The website passcode arrived in a second text, and she was instructed to memorise it and delete.

At least they didn’t ask her to eat the phone, Willow thought, as she committed the code to memory.

The location was not an area of the river she’d swum in before.

It was out of town and relatively remote.

Willow had to park by the edge of a field and make her way to the river via an overgrown footpath.

Briefly, Willow wondered if she was in fact being set up, and any minute, the water company’s hired thugs would grab her and bundle her into a van.

But as the only life forms that she could detect nearby either buzzed, chirped or mooed, Willow decided she was probably safe.

She’d had no choice but to take the neon pink swim buoy and for once, she was glad of it.

There was no one around to save her if she got into trouble, so the inflatable buoy could be her life raft.

Willow set off up-river, using a gentle breaststroke rather than freestyle.

She wanted to make sure she could observe everything.

Last night, too full of buttery duck and giant chips to sleep, Willow searched for more information on ‘dry spilling’ – water companies illegally dumping sewage when it wasn’t raining heavily.

Seemed it was mostly sneaky, done quickly, so it wouldn’t be detected.

But one website, set up by a group of surfers, claimed water companies were responsible for millions of tons of raw sewage in the waterways each year.

Harvey had said that the companies were rarely punished because they had too much political influence.

But this site claimed it was because no one had been able to prove it was deliberate company policy.

To prosecute, the regulator had to prove that the company owners and managers not only knew it was happening but had endorsed it as a strategy, to avoid paying the vast sums of money needed to upgrade their infrastructure and thus significantly reduce their annual profit and related bonuses.

Wow , was Willow’s reaction, swiftly followed by, Bastards .

Money-grubbing, self-serving, shit-dumping arsehole bastards.

At first, she hadn’t much relished the prospect of swimming in water that was almost certainly polluted, but now, she’d plough through actual turds to help provide proof.

She’d just be sure to keep her mouth closed and have a very long, hot shower afterwards.

No turds were evident this morning. And, to be fair, they hadn’t been on the list of things Willow had been told to watch out for.

Discoloured patches of water and very bad smells were, along with distressed wildlife, such as fish gasping for air.

Wet wipes and sanitary pads were also a giveaway.

You weren’t supposed to flush them as they blocked the pipes, but people did.

Willow tried not to think about used condoms.

About a mile along, Willow spotted what looked like a sewer pipe sticking out of the bank.

She trod water, not wanting to go closer, but there didn’t seem to be anything leaking out of it.

She was oddly disappointed. She’d expected to find proof right away, gallons of waste being spewed out, a noxious stink rising from blackened water thick with dead wildlife. Here was nothing but a rusty pipe.

Now, she had some insight into why it was taking so long for Piggers and his group to collate evidence.

And why it was so easy for the companies to pollute and get away with it.

People who used the waterways were protesting, she’d learned that last night in her research.

But, as Harvey said, to force change you needed a lot of people to notice the problem and publicly object.

Not just a few surfers, who were probably stoned most of the time, anyway.

As Willow swam back, she wondered yet again whether she should check on Charlie – or get someone else to do it.

She’d lost touch with their friends over the past year, or, more accurately, they’d stopped contacting her, and it would feel weird to ask one of them to step in.

There was Maeve, of course, but her approach would be ‘kill or cure’ and it seemed unfair to inflict that on Charlie, no matter what he’d done.

What he’d done – Willow had been thinking hard about what that might be.

Up until lately, she’d assumed he’d left because he’d needed more than she could offer him.

She’d known he was dissatisfied at work, and yearning to do something more meaningful, and she’d imagined he’d left to do just that.

But thinking back, when he talked about his plans, he’d always included her.

What could have been so important to him that he’d leave without warning, and risk everything he seemed to hold dear?

And what was he doing now , working for a company whose values he should by rights despise? Maybe he needed the money? Maybe he’d got in debt and that’s what he’d meant when he said he’d been an idiot? Maybe he’d got in debt to someone bad and–

Willow forced herself to shut down this train of thought. Charlie wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t get involved with bad people; he simply wouldn’t .

Then again, she was now involved with people she knew nothing about whatsoever. She didn’t know their motives, or their end game. For all she knew, they could be terrorists. Another train of thought she did not want to pursue.

Willow dried herself and wrapped the towel around her to provide coverage while she changed.

Not that there was anyone watching her, only a few cows in the field, sedately munching grass.

It was beautiful round here, in the deep countryside, and to Willow, it never really seemed to change.

But her new-found knowledge told her not to take it for granted.

There was a war on: profit versus the environment.

And right now, profit was winning. She could only hope that the people she was providing intel to were good, and that their combined actions would make a positive difference.

Across the field, a lone raven flapped lazily. Its gleaming black plumage and confident attitude reminded Willow of Geillis. The town’s resident witch, apparently. Who certainly knew a lot about swans. And – possibly – rivers.

If anyone was an undercover environmental activist, it would be Geillis, Willow decided.

After work, she’d pay yet another visit to the Oak and Whale.

Might not get her anywhere, but as she’d recently found out – if you don’t ask, you don’t get.

Even if you’re not sure exactly what you’re asking for.