Page 58

CLOSE TO HOME

Pember

The police station waiting room was as quiet as the grave.

It was Thursday afternoon, and the old-fashioned sign hanging from the front door had been flipped to Closed.

The station’s usual hum of activity was completely silent, and as the security lock beeped and they stepped into the front office, they could have heard a pin drop.

A quiet ball of anxiety roiled in Pember’s gut, making him reach for Blake’s hand.

The alpha squeezed it, leading him through the waiting room and past the main desk.

Samantha’s swivel chair was empty, her jacket slung over the back and a half-finished cup of coffee on the desk.

A day old, judging by the dried ring around the top.

Where usually they’d have heard the loud chit-chat of the local neighbourhood officers, there was nothing. Blake dipped his head around one of the side doors, sniffing as he returned to Pember’s side.

“No one’s around,” he said, wrapping an arm around Pember’s waist.

They walked with hurried steps to the end of the hall and down the stairs, and when Pember pressed his badge to the security door they strode straight past the forensic lockers and into the lab.

The computer monitors were flickering, and when Pember pressed the back of his hand to the thermocycler, he found it was still warm.

“In here,” Wallace called softly.

Pember let out a sharp breath and padded into his office. Blake followed, pressing his fingers to his lower back as they arrived at the doorway.

“Wallace? What happened?” Pember said, reaching for his shoulder.

The beta looked ill. Physically and emotionally sick as he stared up at them with dark eyes.

“Sit down, Pem,” he said, gesturing towards a chair. “Blake, the inspector needs you.”

Pember swallowed and sank into the uncomfortable plastic chair opposite. Wallace sighed when Blake still didn’t move. Pressing his fingers to his temples, he said, “It’s Samantha. She’s dead.”

Pember’s throat went dry, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Blake’s fingers went straight to the nape of his neck, thumb brushing the fine hairs under his collar. Pember opened his mouth, but no sound came out. It was like Wallace had just told a distasteful joke.

Blake cleared his throat. “Are we certain it’s her?”

Wallace nodded with a grave expression. “DS Vaughan’s at the scene now.”

Pember let out a breath. “Oh my God. W-What… Who found her?” he said, unable to stop the shake in his voice.

“Her wife. She had tracking software in her car.”

Pember covered his mouth. “Her poor wife. How is… Where is?—”

“Oliver’s with her,” Wallace replied. “We’ve locked down the station until we know what’s happened. Falkington CID and their forensic lead are on their way over to assist.”

Pember gasped, his brain slowly kicking back into gear. “Falkington? Why are another force?—”

“Because they have a stake in this too,” Wallace said, steepling his hands on the tabletop. “After the Maginty discovery, they?—”

“What Maginty discovery?” Pember said, rising to his feet.

Blake’s fingers moved down his spine, soothing his rapidly rising heart rate. Wallace was about to speak when Blake held up a hand. “I’ll tell him,” he said, voice low.

Pember slowly turned. Blake was looking at him with a strange, unreadable expression, one that put him even more on edge. He reached for Blake’s forearm. “Tell me what, Blake?”

Blake let out a breath and held Pember’s gaze. “Felix Maginty was involved in the Falkington gang rape.”

“Oh shit,” Pember whispered. “But that’s?—”

“The victim was a male omega called Reuben Atkinson.”

Pember tried to speak, but his throat muscles tensed. The cogs in his brain felt like they were malfunctioning, struggling to turn and comprehend Blake’s words. “R-Ru?”

Blake nodded once, and Pember crumpled back into the chair.

“Do you know him?” Wallace asked, leaning forwards.

“Y-yeah. Well, I mean… I met him last week with Maya. He was… withdrawn. To put it mildly.”

Blake’s eyes flicked between them. “Does Maya know that we know?” he said, holding Wallace in a hard stare.

Wallace shook his head. “No. I didn’t tell her. I came straight to Major Crime when I got the results from Falkington.”

“And Duncan?” Blake asked.

“No. Out of forensics, only I know, and now young Pember.”

Pember frowned and shook his head. “Sorry, why all the cloak and dagger? Should Maya not know that Maginty’s a suspect?”

Wallace let out a dry laugh. “Oh, she knows. She just doesn’t know we know.”

Pember’s hackles prickled. “Where is she? What happened?”

A look passed between Wallace and Blake.

“Estrus,” Wallace said. “Allegedly.”

Blake sniffed. “Does the boss have eyes on her?”

Wallace nodded. “She’s at home, under the care of her parents. If she wants to make it look convincing she’ll have to stay put for a couple of days.”

Pember slapped the arms of the chair and leapt to his feet. “Will you both stop being so sodding cryptic?”

Wallace sighed and slumped back, holding out his hands in resignation. “You may as well tell him. He’ll only find out on his own if you don’t.”

Pember was shaking as Blake told him everything. About Ru, Leo and Sal. About the connection they all shared.

“B-but, this is all conjecture, right? We don’t actually know they had anything to do with it?”

Blake nodded, holding both of Pember’s hands as they sat opposite one another in the break room.

His thumbs rubbed little circles across his wrists.

“Yes. And in all likelihood someone is acting on their behalf. You know how potent an omega scent can be. How many alphas get locked up day in day out because they fail to control their urges? I’m not saying it’s the case, but it’s something we’ve got to consider. ”

That struck Pember right to the core. Yes, he knew all too well what a scent-drunk alpha was capable of. How they got so wound up in lust it turned them into horrible, predatory beings with very little self-control.

But then he looked at Blake. At the man who had literally bitten himself to protect him when he was begging to be knotted. Letting out a long breath, he cupped Blake’s face, grateful for him in ways words couldn’t describe.

Dropping his forehead onto Blake’s shoulder, he ran a thumb across his bicep, gently rubbing the bite beneath his shirt. “Does it hurt?” he whispered.

Blake kissed the back of his head. “No.”

“Will it scar?”

“Probably.”

Pember let out a pained sigh against Blake’s neck. “I’m so sorry I put you through that.”

Blake let out a long breath. “I’m not.” Pressing a knuckle to the underside of Pember’s jaw, he gently pulled their faces together. “Because every time I see it, it’ll remind me of you.”

Someone cleared their throat from the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt,” Wallace said, awkwardly looking anywhere that wasn’t at them. “It’s time for you to go. Falkington are already at the mill.”

Pember frowned. “Aren’t you coming?”

Wallace’s eyes dropped to his feet, a pained expression crossing his weathered features. “No. I have to give a statement. About my involvement.”

“What involvement?” Pember said, quickly getting to his feet. “Wallace? What on earth is going on here?”

Wallace ran a hand through his wispy beard—it looked scruffier than usual.

“I can’t tell you too much, lad. But, needless to say, we suspect Samantha went out looking for Maya and the others last night.

It was…” Wallace sighed, pressing a finger between his eyebrows.

“We…” His eyes turned watery. “For all her bluster, she didn’t miss a trick. ”

“What? Wall?—”

Blake placed a hand on Pember’s shoulder.

“Please, Pem,” Wallace said. “Please just start making your way to the crime scene. You’re the only one I can send. A Falkington supervisor will be there. He’ll tell you what to do.”

Pember nodded, stepping back. “Y-yeah. I’ll go.” He looked up at Blake. “See you there?”

Blake shook his head. “I’ll come in the van.” A strained smile pinched his lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drive.”

After loading additional sample kits into the back of the van, Pember pulled himself into the driver’s seat and shut the door.

“Ready?” Blake said, punching the postcode into the satnav.

Pember nodded, pulling out his phone to place it in the centre console. He blinked when he noticed a message on the screen. It was from Ru.

Blake saw it too.

“Can I… can I read it?” Pember said, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“Sure, but if it’s anything incriminating I’ll probably have to seize your phone.”

Pember tipped his head, thinking Blake was joking, but his serious expression indicated otherwise.

“Okay,” he said, butterflies swarming in his belly as he clicked the message. He let out a relieved sigh when he saw it was a photograph of a knitted cuddly toy. He glanced at Blake, who gave a small smile in return.

‘ Hamster? ’ Pember typed back.

‘ Red panda, ’ Ru replied. ‘ Made it yesterday. It reminded me of you for some reason. ’

Letting out a breath, Pember covered his aching chest. “We have to help him,” he said, turning to Blake. “If he’s gotten mixed up in all this, we have to make sure he’s safe.”

Blake swallowed, crossing an ankle over his knee. “It might not be that simple.”

“Yeah, but surely?—”

Blake held up a hand. “One thing at a time, alright? Crime scene first, then we’ll think about Reuben Atkinson.”

The deep red bricks of the old woollen mill looked almost bloody set against the overcast sky that loomed behind Monmouth Hill.

Although on the outskirts of West Newton, it had produced a good portion of the area’s agricultural trade in the 1700s, and evidence of the old cart tracks was still present on the sprawling cobble driveway.