Page 52

The inspector leaned forward, impatience crossing his sour expression. “And? Was he taken into custody? Did he have his swabs and fingerprints taken?”

Caitlin shook her head. “No. Says here he was dealt with on a voluntary basis, attended the station at a pre-arranged time. He had his photograph and measurements taken, though. Blake, what did you say Maya’s friend looks like?”

“Pem described him as having blonde hair, blue eyes, freckles, roughly five feet seven.”

Caitlin grinned and spun the laptop round. They all went quiet. “Well,” she said, crossing her arms. “It looks as though Mr Shit and Mrs Fan have been formally introduced.”

The inspector sat back, lacing his fingers together.

“Right. Mark, I want you to bring Mr Chantry in. Treat him as a witness, bells and fucking whistles, got it? Make him feel like a fucking king, and that there is absolutely no suspicion about his involvement. Say we’re concerned about his safety.

Keep details of the case to a minimum, but find out where the fuck he’d been in the lead-up to Stewart’s murder.

I want to know what kind of relationship they had, who else knew and whether it was his fucking baby. ”

Mark grimaced. “Boss… come on. Respectfully, omegas? Do we seriously think omegas had something to do with this? They’re just not built like that. A beta, maybe, but not fucking omegas.”

Blake glanced at Mark, then back at the inspector. “I can do the interview, boss.”

The inspector let out a sigh. “With all due respect, Blake, what is your relationship with the scene examiner, Pember McArthur?”

Blake coughed. “He’s my neighbour.”

“Mhm. And are you in an intimate relationship?”

“Boss, I really don’t think that?—”

The inspector quietly held up a hand. “It matters, because if details of our strategy moving forward are shared with Mr McArthur, he could then share that information with Miss Sharma. I trust you implicitly, Blake. But I don’t know him . ”

“Boss, I can assure you, Pember is absolutely?—”

“Until we formulate a strategy, I can’t risk either of you unintentionally compromising the case. Once myself, DS Vaughan and DS Matthews have come up with a plan, then you can continue to manage the investigation.”

“So you’re taking me off the fucking case?” Blake snapped.

A muscle in the inspector’s jaw ticked. “No, of course not. It just means we’re going to be having a few closed-door meetings over the next few days. You can carry out your other duties as normal. Understand?”

Blake’s lip peeled back over his canines, making Mark and Caitlin visibly tense. “No, boss, I don’t. You said you trust me, and I’m telling you, you can trust Pember. There is absolutely no reason to?—”

The inspector pounded his fist on the desk, a tendril from his comb-over falling onto his forehead. “There is every fucking reason!” he shouted, rising to his feet.

Blake followed suit.

“Integrity, DS Smith! Not yours, not Pember’s, hers!

Think about how many rape kits Miss Sharma’s processed, both children and adults.

How many fucking times she’s stood up in court to give evidence against a domestic abuser.

If something gets back to her, or we make it known that she’s under investigation, every—fucking—piece—of—work she’s ever done will have to be integrity checked at best, or re-processed at worst. Could you imagine all the sexual abuse victims that would have to stand up in court and face their attackers again?

The number of appeals and retrials would be fucking astronomical.

If she is connected, this won’t just be about the murders anymore.

Any crime that West Newton has investigated over the last five years will be brought into question. All because of Maya fucking Sharma.”

That tipped a bucket of cold water over Blake’s rage.

“Look,” the inspector continued, “I trust you, and I respect you, Blake. But unfortunately these are the decisions I have to make. One day you’ll understand, but for now, produce me a statement of everything you’ve discovered today, mark it as sensitive and do not share it with anyone else.

This is the only way forward until I speak to the chief constable.

I’ll let you know once we’ve got a strategy in place. ”

Blake felt numb as he collected George and Bailey from the kennels. They’d both run off into the bushes again, but Blake found he didn’t have the energy to call them back. Or shift. Or even walk back to his car. He stared blankly towards the top of the field, unable to get his thoughts in order.

The inspector’s words rang through his head like a funeral bell, the magnitude of what they’d uncovered slowly sinking in. He felt unsteady in his own body. His wolf was pacing, like the ground was about to be ripped out from beneath them both.

Usually, they’d work through it by plugging his brain into something at work, or pushing his body until he was forced to rest or shift and then get up and do it all again.

Distraction, distraction, distraction. But now…

now all he wanted was to return home and have dinner with Pember.

He wanted to hold him, to lie with him on the sofa and watch a shitty film until he fell asleep in his arms. Fuck, he wanted him in his bed just to sleep and wake up together.

Shaking his head, he remembered the massive bag of supplies in the boot of his car.

“George! Bailey!” he called, before turning back towards the car park and heading for home.

“What’s wrong with you?” Val said, scowling as she noisily chewed a fork full of cottage pie.

Blake was well aware that he’d been staring down at his plate for the last five minutes, but he couldn’t bring himself to start eating.

“Nothing,” he said quietly, lifting his fork but not putting it in his mouth. “How’re you feeling? Stomach any better?”

Val scoffed. “I’m fine. But you’re not.”

Blake cleared his throat and tried to force a closed-lipped smile. “What did the doctor say?”

“The same thing he always says. That I’m old, my cholesterol is too high and my bunions are getting worse.”

Blake’s lip twitched. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Val shrugged, dabbing a napkin to her mouth. “I’m buggered, Blake. Have been ever since Earnie passed. But, more importantly, why aren’t you with him ?”

Blake frowned. “Who?”

Val quirked a wispy white eyebrow. “You know who. I might be old, but I know an omega in heat when I smell one.”

Huffing, Blake shovelled a forkful of food into his mouth to avoid answering the question. Val only stared at him, patiently waiting for him to finish.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

Val sighed. “For crying out loud, you’re an awkward bastard. Did he get you with his Temperance Spoon or something?”

Blake coughed. “His what?”

Val’s mouth pulled into a wicked grin. “You know, ‘One Whack and It’ll Go Slack’? No? Maybe you’re too young.”

“I think you’re making it up,” Blake said, taking another mouthful.

Val huffed out a laugh. “I’m not! The local vicar gave one to Earnie when we got married. Said a sharp blow with a cold spoon was the best way to quell any unwanted marital desires.”

Blake barked out a laugh and shook his head. “You’re a mad old bat, you know that, Val?”

Val grinned and carried on eating. It wasn’t until she was settled in front of the television that Blake was able to get out onto the patio to hang the shopping bag over the garden fence.

He’d thought about posting everything through the letter box one by one, but figured Pember wouldn’t appreciate waking up to chocolate bars and energy drinks all over his living room floor.

Slipping out his phone, he sent Pember a text. He still hadn’t had a reply to the first.

‘ There are a few things on the fence for you, no rush to collect. ’

Hitting send, he sighed and gazed up at Pember’s back bedroom window. There was a dim, flickering light—a candle perhaps—but no movement. Eventually he sniffed and headed back inside.

Lying in bed in the middle of the night was fucking torture.

Staring up at the blank ceiling, Blake could feel his chest beginning to grow tight again.

He’d already shifted and walked the perimeter five times, and even then his wolf was still restless.

It wanted to be with Pember’s omega wolf.

To be curled around him in the middle of the woods.

Blake threw an arm behind his head and stroked the dogs as they flanked his legs.

He’d had a similar feeling when he and Rebecca first mated over a decade ago.

A predatory restlessness that might’ve actually sent him insane if allowed to linger.

However, with Rebecca it’d faded rapidly, eventually dwindling into nothing despite her having his bite, and the prospect of carrying his child.

But he and Pember weren’t even mated, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he was an omega.

Alphas were genetically programmed to reproduce and protect the pack.

But they were not a pack, and Pember had made it clear he was not looking for a mate.

Shit, Blake didn’t even know if he wanted to tread that particular path again.

He sighed and was just about to turn over when his phone pinged.

‘ Sorry for not replying sooner. Things were pretty intense earlier. Thank you for the supplies. The hedgehog’s cute. It reminds me of you. ’

Blake’s heart literally jumped as he read the text.

The message was followed by a photograph of the hedgehog cooling pad nestled next to a pillow and Val’s blanket.

There was a glass of water on the floor next to the mattress, and a—the mattress.

Blake swallowed. He realised he was looking at a snapshot of Pember’s nest.

Sitting up, he leant back against the headboard, his brain tripping over itself as he tried to think of a reply.

‘Because I’m cute? ’ he typed back, finding it difficult not to leap up from the bed and run to Pember’s door.