Page 151 of Too Close To Home

Jake leaned back, the movement small but definite. As if Harrison had pulled the chair right out from under him. “Aye. Okay. That I will.”

The words came too quickly. Flat. And the look he gave Harrison afterwards was bruised. Harrison felt it. Felt it and filed it away, same as everything else that didn’t belong in this room.

Not now.

Not here.

Not when he was supposed to be doing his job.

So he lowered his gaze to his notes, even though he hadn’t written a word. “What about Brodie?”

Jake stared at him for a beat. Then, “He’s been trying to get back in my pants for a while. Then this morning he turns up, asking about Andy. About what you said. Proper interested, y’know?”

Harrison nodded, watching him.

“Then he says—” Jake took his time, as if even repeating it didn’t quite sit right, “—‘I didn’t do all this so you could fuck the detective.’”

Harrison blinked.

There were a couple of reasons for that.

One—someone else had seen it. Whatever this was between him and Jake, it hadn’t been as contained as he’d thought. If Brodie had noticed, someone else could too. In a station full of detectives, it only took one person paying attention.

The second—that was a bold statement. And Harrison listed it along with his own impressions of the barman so far, who’d lied and fabricated and halted an investigation into the disappearance of young girl of whom he knew.

“What did you take that to mean?” Harrison asked him.

Jake frowned. “That he thought you and I were—”

“No.” Harrison cut in, shaking his head. “The ‘do all this’ part.”

Jake shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s what didn’t sit right.” He peered up at him under his lashes. “What do you think?”

Harrison thought about it. “It’s an odd turn of phrase. Do you think he’s talking about Emily?”

“I don’t know.” Jake sighed, then sat forward. “When Robyn went missing, they told us not to ignore owt that felt off. That scratched at you. And this did.” He shook his head. “Maybe I’m way off. But…what if he’s… I dunno… pushed things? Set something up? He’d know I’d go for Andy. Knew I’d bring it straight to you.”

“And you think he would do that to get you back?”

Jake swallowed. “Maybe. He said if I were proven right, I’d be free. Could get back to my life. Not… this half-arsed version I’m stuck in. That I could go back to the band. Go on tour. He’d come with me.”

The room went quiet.

And Harrison realised that wasn’t just information. That was instinct. And Jake Whitton had now handed him a reason to look somewhere else.

He stood. “Thank you for bringing this to me.”

Jake looked up at him, searching his face. “Is it relevant?”

“It could be.”

Relief flickered across Jake’s face, quickly chased by something tighter. “So… you didn’t find anything on Andy? From the searches?”

Harrison held his gaze.

Jake wanted the answer one way.

Needed it the other.