Page 8 of Callous Shot

I discreetly wiped away the strands of her chestnut hair that had caught on my stubble and smiled. “Yeah, I can stay if you have enough.”

“We have loads!” She pulled away from me and rushed back into the house, shouting to Mike to inform him her favourite cousin was here and was staying for dinner, and “I don’t care what you say.” My grin widened as I entered the cottage, closing the heavy wooden door behind me. I toed off my Nikes, placing them on the wooden shoe rack next to Tilly’s sparkly purple Crocs. Padding down the hallway to the kitchen, I found my uncle standing at the wooden kitchen island, kneading pizza dough. Tilly hopped up onto the stool next to him as he turned to greet me.

“Link. Good to see you, mate. I wasn’t expecting a visit from you today—not that you’re not welcome. You’re always welcome here. You heading up to the main house?”

I shook my head. “No. Fu— Flip that. I came to see you.”

He smirked, glancing over at a thankfully oblivious Tilly as he held out a flour-covered fist to bump against mine. “Nice save.”

“I thought so too.” Returning his smirk, I bumped his fist before crossing the flagstone floor to the porcelain sink beneath the leaded window that looked out over a small garden. A garden that was so familiar, it seemed like it was my own.

It wasn’t mine. This house wasn’t mine. I didn’t have anything that I could call my own, really.

Squaring my shoulders, I pushed aside the intrusive thoughts that I wouldn’t allow to take over. The important thing was that I was here, and Mike was too, and he was the only person in my world I trusted implicitly. Our relationship was more like friends than uncle and nephew, maybe due to the fact that he was only thirteen years older than me, much closer in age to me than he was to my dad, and we’d bonded over the mutual apathy that came from the rest of our family.

I peeled off my hoodie, leaving me in a red Whelford Uni T-shirt and plain grey joggers, and quickly washed my hands before returning to the island. Bracing my arms on the counter, I tapped the pitted wooden surface. “Okay, I’m ready. Put me to work.”

“Link! Is that a new tattoo? Can I colour it in after dinner?” Tilly peered at my left arm, tilting her head as her eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Good spot, Tils. You know what it is?” I rotated my arm so she could see the inside of my wrist, the final remaining bare portion of skin on my arms now decorated with permanent artwork.

Her eyes widened as she took in the three small, stylised hearts. Two of them had been filled in with a grey wash, and one was half-full. “Zelda heart containers? Is that the tattoo Dad told me about? He wouldn’t tell me what you got. He said it was a surprise.” Her mouth curved into a mock pout. Little diva. I grinned.

“Yep. He saw it the day I got it when you were at your mum’s house, but I made him promise to keep it a secret. You can colour it in after we’ve eaten, okay?”

She nodded happily and returned to rolling out the ball of dough my uncle handed to her. The three of us made quick work of putting together the pizzas, and when they were in the oven, I gave in to the inevitable—playing Zelda with my little cousin.

Much later than planned, when Tilly had finally been persuaded to go to bed, Mike collapsed into his ancient leather sofa, while I settled into the faded wingback chair beneath the window. “Okay,” Mike said. “I know you didn’t come here just for a social visit. Want to tell me what’s going on?”

I sighed, pinching my brow. I was second-guessing myself now. Did I really want to be involved in Daniel Hoyton’s mess? The answer was no, but I also knew that the aggravating asshole was like a dog with a bone, and it wouldn’t be the last time I heard from him. I wanted to interact with him as little as possible—preferably never, in an ideal world, but I unfortunately knew I wouldn’t be that lucky.

“Link,” Mike prompted when I’d been silent for too long, and I groaned.

“Can you tell me anything about Operation Foxglove?”

His brows shot up. “Mate, that’s an active investigation. You know I can’t talk about it.”

“The Hoytons are asking questions.”

“Shit,” he muttered. “Neil Hoyton was hounding me about this earlier, and I already told him I wouldn’t be sharing anything about it with him. I take it Daniel’s been in contact.”

Direct physical contact, in fact. Earlier, when I’d had him pressed up against the wall, his cheeks turning red as I crushed his windpipe with my forearm, his bright blue eyes wide with shock⁠—

Huffing out a breath, I shook my head to dismiss the image. “Yeah. Why the fuck did he come to me? He knows I hate him, and he hates me too.”

“It’s his life, Lincoln. You have to understand. People like that…they’re not like us. They’ll use every resource they have, prod for every weak spot⁠—”

“Isn’t that what you do in the police?”

His lips kicked up at the corners, morphing into a wry smile. “True, I suppose…to some extent. Our methods are legal, though. What exactly is the issue here? What does he want to know? Because this is a big, regional operation covering three counties. I can’t… Look. You know I look the other way when it comes to the Hoytons, most of the time, but I wouldn’t compromise my values unless I thought it would benefit the side of the law. This is bigger than the Hoyton Firm. It’s not even about them, not really. They’re just a small part of the bigger picture. This is a three-year crackdown on rural crime, targeting what we think are several different gangs operating across the counties. We reduce their numbers, and the incidents of rural crime will be drastically reduced.”

“So the Hoytons are looking to protect their interests,” I summarised.

“Undoubtedly. Try to stay out of it, okay? I don’t want you getting involved in any of this. I wouldn’t…I shouldn’t have even begun dealing with them in the first place. Perhaps I was naive, that first time I asked you to deliver the note. I wanted to get ahead in my career, to be promoted to sergeant, and Neil Hoyton had the connections I needed for my breakthrough case. But I should never have involved you.”

“All you’ve ever done is ask me to pass on messages. It’s nothing bad, even though I can’t stand Daniel. I don’t mind doing it for you, I promise. And Tilly benefits from it too, now you’re making more money, and you have better salary benefits. We’d both do anything for her.”

His mouth twisted. “Even so, it’s not right. I shouldn’t have used those methods, even though they led to the promotion. I guess…I also felt a sense of guilt in a way. Neil Hoyton lost his brother, and my brother was partly responsible for that. Indirectly, sure, but his client died in the fracas, and, well…there was no one else left alive to blame.”