Page 69
“I need this job.” Jake turned back to Levenson, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.
The man barked out a laugh.
Fair enough, really. Jake hadn’t exactly crawled back here apologising. He’d stormed off yesterday in a temper and vanished without a word. But this wasn’t just about money anymore. This was about staying close. Where he could hear things. See things. Figure out what Harrison wasn’t saying. Because Harrison might try keeping him at arm’s length all he liked, but Jake knew that look in his eyes at the riverbank. Knew the tightness underneath it.
Something was wrong.
And if there was even the slightest chance this had anything to do with Robyn…
“Look,” Jake tried again, dragging his hood down. “I’m sorry, alright? About yesterday. Family emergency. Should’ve said summat before I left.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, buying himself a second. “And there’s… history with me round here you probably don’t—”
“I know.”
Jake blinked.
Levenson gave him the once over. “I know exactly who you are, Whitton.”
“You do?”
“I don’t hire blokes onto industrial contracts without checking who they are first.”
Jake snorted. “Thought you said you called me out the blue.”
“I did. To get you down here.”
Jake narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Because you’re a bloody good roofer.” Levenson folded his arms. “Your name came through word of mouth. Needed someone who’d turn up fast and knew industrial systems. Got told that were you.” He shrugged. “Course I looked you up after. I ain’t daft.”
Jake didn’t know whether to feel irritated or relieved about that. Probably both. But it gave him an opening.
“Alright then. Dock yesterday’s pay. Keep the completion bonus too.” He jerked a shoulder. “I’ll start now. Just pay me the day rate till the job’s done.”
Levenson looked him up and down before sighing then adjusted his hard hat to rub under his head. “You’ve got balls, son. I’ll give you that.”
“I’ve got good hands an’ all. And experience. I know these systems better than half the cowboys you’d drag off Google.” Jake nodded at the warehouse roofs stretching across the estate. “My old man worked these units when I was a kid. Used to drag me up here summers. Learned where every weak point sits before I learned half my times tables.”
Levenson scoffed. “Doesn’t hurt you’ve got a detective batting for you either. Telling me to give you another chance.”
Jake’s stomach flipped. But he got himself in check to widen his eyes. “You gonna?”
Levenson gestured towards the scaffold tower. “East pitch first. Box gutters are fucked along the back run and there’s standing water under half the overlaps. We’re stripping sections back and over-sheeting. You know Kingspan systems?”
Jake nodded. “Aye.”
“Good. Then harness up and stop being a pain in my arse.”
Jake bit back a grin. “I’ll try, but it’s sorta my thing.”
“I can tell.” Levenson pointed at the building. “Move.”
Not forgiveness exactly. But near enough.
So Jake got his harness on, clipped onto the ladder line and started climbing. The drizzle had developed into that fine Yorkshire mist that never looked heavy but soaked through everything anyway and the roof spread wider than it had seemed from the ground. Old corrugated industrial sheeting layered over in patches from decades of repairs. Rust bleeding from bolts. Cracked sealant around the skylights. Gutter channels sagging under black rainwater and moss. Fluorescent markings sprayed across sections due for replacement.
Big job.
Three weeks at least, maybe more if they uncovered rot beneath the insulation layers. So Jake hauled himself onto the catwalk and crouched, boots scraping damp metal while the wind rolled clean across the exposed height. From up here the whole estate opened beneath him and he could now see the blue-and-white tape cutting across the riverside access road that hadn’t been there yesterday. A new police cordon sat two units over near the service track leading down to the riverbank. And he could make out the white scene tent hunched in the grey morning and the slow movement of uniforms passing in and out of it.
