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PRICKLY BUSINESS

Blake

Blake’s entire body went cold. Reuben Atkinson.

Reuben. Ru. It was Falkington’s case, so he didn’t know the details of the investigation, but he knew the name.

Reuben’s photograph had been on the daily briefing page for almost a month, but with the murders, he’d barely paid any attention to it.

Even when Pember had mentioned an omega called Ru, Blake’s brain still hadn’t made the connection.

Swallowing, he looked down at the paperwork. There it was in black and white, a full profile hit for semen both inside Reuben and on his clothing. There was no question Maginty was involved, and now he was dead.

Blake was vaguely aware that Wallace was still talking, and excited chatter began to fill the previously quiet briefing room. He looked at the inspector, then at Mark and Caitlin. All of them were staring back at him as though he might hold all the answers.

Clearing his throat, he was about to start dishing out orders when Lily tapped his shoulder. Her usually tight bun looked uncharacteristically frazzled. “What should we do, Sarge? Expedite the rest of the swabs? See if there's any link to his armed robbery associates?”

Blake clenched his teeth, mind racing as he gripped the paperwork. “No,” he said, brain settling on one singular line of enquiry. “Can you get me the CCTV of Zayne Stewart at the Nock and Ore? The one with him at the bar with the pregnant omega?”

Lily cocked an eyebrow. “Sure, but we already?—”

“Please, DC Jones. I want to see it for myself.”

She nodded, turning on her heel and striding towards the exhibits room.

Within minutes she returned, presenting Blake with a crumpled disk sleeve.

He plucked it from her hand and began walking towards the viewing room.

Mark and Caitlin were calling him, but Blake grabbed Lily’s elbow.

“I need your help with something,” he said, steering her towards the room containing a multitude of screens and disk readers.

The disk spun to life, and when the screen finally lit up, Blake sighed.

As expected, the CCTV quality was so poor it was impossible to make out any fine grain details.

There was a male omega standing at the bar with Zayne Stewart, that much was obvious from his height and build.

The omega also had blonde hair and, judging by the roundness of his belly, was roughly six months pregnant.

Blake pinched the bridge of his nose, mind reeling. Pember had said it was difficult to tell that the omega he’d met, Leo, had a bump. But he’d also said he was wearing loose clothing, which was unusual in itself. Omegas generally didn’t hide their pregnancies.

Blake watched the interaction on the screen.

It appeared cold, with Zayne barely looking up from his pint glass as the omega sipped on a blue cocktail.

It didn’t look like they were arguing, and there were moments of conversation here and there, but after four minutes and thirty-six seconds, the omega slapped the bar and walked out without finishing his drink.

Zayne watched him go, shaking his head before returning his gaze to the bar.

His shoulders held the slant of a defeated man.

Blake folded his arms, strumming his fingers over his bicep. “Lily, what do we know about the omega’s direction of travel?”

Lily cleared her throat. “We tracked him through CCTV to the top of the high street. He’s on his phone a lot but nothing unusual. He goes down a public footpath next to the bookies and we lose sight of him after that.”

“Right,” Blake said, running a hand through his hair. “Has his picture been uploaded to the wanted gallery?”

Lily nodded. “Yeah. No one’s come forward to identify him, but the quality is terrible, so it’s not surprising.”

Blake bit the inside of his cheek. There were two people who might recognise him, but he was loath to call Pember during his heat, and there was no way in hell he was asking Maya until he’d gotten his head around the shitshow of new information.

“Can you get me the CCTV from the night of the Green murder? Tokyo Treasures, the one that overlooks the Nock and Ore side door.”

“Yes, of course, but we already?—”

“Lily,” Blake said, giving her a firm look. “Please?”

She nodded and sloped back into the exhibits office. When she returned, they both studied the footage.

“He takes a call at ten minutes past midnight, correct?”

Lily nodded, wrapping her hands around a steaming mug. “Yeah. It was a pay-as-you-go number. No subscriber details, likely a burner phone.”

“Were we able to find any more cameras along his route to the park?”

“We’ve got one Ring doorbell capturing him turning onto the footpath, but then it’s practically woodland all the way to the shifter park.”

Blake frowned “Scouts? Birdwatchers? Has no one set up any kind of hidden camera in the bushes?”

Lily shook her head. “Not that we could find. Hopefully something will come up when we do the press appeal tomorrow.”

Blake sighed, turning his eyes back to the footage. He watched as Robert Green stepped out of the pub, pulled up his hood and rubbed his hands together. He had no idea it would be the last walk he ever made.

Hood. Coats had hoods. Robert Green was wearing a coat.

“Lily?” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Was Green’s coat sent off for forensic testing with the rest of his clothes?”

“No, Sarge. The coat was never recovered.”

Blake’s stomach jolted as he recalled the victim lying on the ground, his white T-shirt torn to shreds.

“Fuck,” he said, rewinding the footage. He set the video to play in slow motion, eyes narrowing as he tried to pick out the details of the coat. “Would you say those are white stripes down the arms or fluorescent? It’s hard to tell with the camera’s night vision.”

Lily shrugged. “I’m not sure, shall I get the Ring doorbell footage?”

“Yes, please.”

Blake cleaned his glasses as he waited for Lily to load the video. He’d had to resort to his emergency pair after his and Pember’s little soiree in the fountain, because ‘corpse juice’ had embedded itself between the lenses and the frame.

“White stripes,” Lily said, nose almost touching the screen. “And there's some kind of… logo? Maybe? Over the left breast pocket.”

Nodding, Blake paused the footage and took a still image. “Try and find me details of that coat, or as close as you can get. I want the brand and whether any shops sell it locally.”

Lily ran her tongue over her teeth. “Forgive me, but he probably bought it online. Does anyone actually go to shops these days?”

Blake sighed, feeling like a dinosaur. “I don’t want to know where he got it. I want to find one so we have something to physically show the general public during the press release.”

“Right.” Lily nodded. “Gotcha.”

As she padded away, Blake couldn’t help but notice the nervous thrill growing in his belly. It was a feeling work had failed to bring out in him for a very long time, but one that Pember conjured every time he smiled.

After twenty minutes, Lily popped back up next to his shoulder. “The closest match I could find is a Moncler Sanbesan puffer jacket. I’m fairly certain it’s the right one as it’s got the black and red in the logo. Retails for almost a grand.”

Blake scoffed. “A grand? Fuck me.”

Lily shrugged. “He was a solicitor. Corporate law at that. You’ve seen them swanning around the high street in their designer suits and Rolex watches. They love all that shit. Anyway, there’s one shop that sells it locally—ish. Noble Threads in Wickham. Want me to check it out?”

Blake shook his head. “I’ll go. I need some air.”

“You sure, Sarge? I can?—”

Blake raised a hand. “Focus on the Maginty lead. Speak to Wallace, see what he needs.”

With that, Blake strode out of the viewing room, grabbed his coat from the hook in his office and avoided the inspector’s line of sight. He needed to clear his head and restrain himself from interrogating Maya about Reuben and Leo. And from thinking about Pember. In heat. Alone.

Fuck.

Despite the council injecting hundreds of thousands of pounds into Wickham University, the town itself was still a shithole.

What was once a thriving place of independent traders, was now a sea of fast-food chains and even faster fashion.

There were a few shifter stores with adverts in the windows for discount outdoor heaters and nest building kits, but ultimately, physical shops were a dying breed.

Still, Blake couldn’t bring himself to hate it because it was where Pember had gone to university. He’d said it was his safe place during all the chaos at home, and perhaps they’d return soon and run the trails he enjoyed.

Stepping into Noble Threads, he enquired with the manager only to be met with a shake of the head. “Sorry, haven’t sold those in months. Moncler’s too expensive for the uni students, so we got rid of ’em. Sold ’em to a place in High Enfield—Maverick Couture.”

Blake nodded, dipping his head as he stepped back through the low-hanging doorway.

He’d heard of Maverick Couture but never found a reason to shop there.

Overpriced shoes and ruffled shirts were not really his thing, despite Oliver insisting that he had a ballroom dancer’s physique.

However, a quick Google search told him that they also sold glasses frames, so perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone.

Stepping out onto the street, his gaze flitted up and down the narrow road.

It was lined with old-fashioned Victorian street lamps, and despite the sheer number of food places, there were still a few academic bookshops clinging onto business for dear life.

Blake inhaled, imagining Pember ducking in and out of the shops in between lectures.

He’d seen him during his breaks at work, head buried in some academic paper that Blake didn’t understand half the words of.

He’d smile to himself as he drank his coffee, tap the page and nod as though he’d just made some great discovery.

The more he pictured it, the more he found comfort in being in one of Pember’s favourite places.

He tried not to think about what the omega might be up to at the present moment in time, as it only made his chest hurt and his hackles rise. His wolf circled and snapped in the back of his mind. We should be with him. He should not be alone.

It seemed like his heat had come on suddenly, leaving him unprepared. There was a supermarket at the end of the road where Blake could buy him some supplies. Not that he had the faintest idea of what an omega needed during their heat, beyond what his father had told him.

At the risk of facing the traffic warden, Blake whipped out a sign that read “POLICE ENQUIRIES, BACK IN 10 MINUTES” from the glove box and placed it on his dashboard.

Taking a breath, he sent Pember a text.

‘ I’m at the supermarket, do you need anything? ’

Not that he expected a reply, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

Grabbing a basket, Blake stalked up and down the aisles, grabbing anything that he thought Pember might need. Chocolate—although Blake wasn’t entirely sure what Pember liked, so he got three big bars of dark, milk and white.

Next was coffee. He’d seen him buy the Peruvian dark roast from the supermarket, so he slipped a bag into the basket, but he also drank pre-mixed mochas whilst he worked, so he dropped ten or so into the basket as well.

Next, two tubes of joint cream as well as a soothing face mask, protein bars and energy drinks.

Finding himself at the CDs and DVDs, he was surprised to find an album of whale music. He looked at it with mild amusement before putting it back when he realised that Pember probably didn’t even own a CD player.

The basket was already full by the time he reached the reproductive health aisle, and he glanced at the 18+ sign before stepping in. Trying not to look at the baby products, he breezed past the alpha and beta section, but hesitated when he got to the omega aisle.

There were two girls giggling to each other as they looked at the artificial knots; they couldn’t have been older than fourteen. Blake cleared his throat, giving them a pointed look that only a police officer could muster, and they quickly scampered away. He did not need an audience for this.

His gaze flicked over the rows upon rows of different products. Mostly cooling pads, numbing cream, oils, lotions, artificial knots and vibrators. Blake did a double take at the bright pink dildos, because he did not expect to see those in his local Tesco’s.

Suddenly feeling totally in over his head, he rubbed the back of his neck and was about to leave the aisle with his tail between his legs when he locked eyes with an older woman stacking the shelves. She gave him a huge smile after glancing down at his basket.

“Yes?” he barked, suddenly feeling defensive.

The woman chuckled. “Nothing. Nothing at all. It’s just nice to see an alpha providing for their mate. It’s a rare thing these days. Everyone just orders online.”

Blake’s mouth opened and closed several times before he took a step towards her. “Do you think it’s too much?”

The woman, whose name tag read ‘Mandy,’ shook her head. “Not at all. I think it’s lovely.”

Blake flushed, turning away from her.

“We’ve just had some new CuddleSafe cooling pads come in,” she said, pointing in the opposite direction. “They’re on the end of the aisle. Everyone’s raving about them. Tell them you’re Mandy’s nephew and they’ll give you a discount.”

Blake let out a breath. “Thank you.”

True to her word, there were a whole host of different products, all of them shaped like different cuddly animals.

Blake had absolutely no idea if Pember would have use for such a thing, but he did think the hedgehog one was quite cute, so he plucked it up from the shelf along with a box of refillable cooling pads.

He got a few funny looks as he piled his hoard into a bag, and the cashier looked him up and down before saying, “Wow, Mand sure has a lot of nieces and nephews.” But Blake just kept his head down and tapped his card against the reader.

Seeing the parking warden at the end of the street, he jogged the last fifty metres to the car, threw the bag into the boot and drove back towards West Newton.