Page 142 of In Too Deep

“He’s not my detective.”

Cause Harrison had just made that clear.

Roman gave him a look. “Course he isn’t.”

Jake snatched up the drill. “What’s it got to do with you?”

“Nowt. Didn’t realise you and Hartswick Police were such good mates, that’s all.”

“We’re not. I was just helping.”

“With what?”

“Nowt you need to know.” Jake drove the first screw into the board hard. “I’m here, aren’t I? If you’ve got a problem with my timekeeping, take it up with your old man.”

Roman stuck both hands in the air. “Only asking.”

He then moved away to shout a measurement down the roofline, and the rest of Friday vanished into sweat, roofing dust and black membrane hot enough to burn through work trousers by midday.

By the end of the shift, Jake’s shoulders ached, his palms were rubbed raw, and his T-shirt was stiff with sweat and roofing grit. Then he still had to stand beside a rugby pitch for two bloody hours cheering Teddy on while pretending he wasn’t half dead on his feet.

He didn’t sleep properly that night though. Not with the mess in his head. And not with Teddy eventually giving up on the floor mattress and climbing into bed beside him sometime after midnight muttering that the blow-up bed had a hole in it. A teenage lad generated more heat than a grown man somehow.

Or maybe it just felt different.

Less complicated.

Jake shoved that thought away fast.

Saturday wasn’t much cooler.

Low cloud rolled over Hartswick without ever properly breaking into rain, leaving the air thick and muggy while Jake dragged himself through another day on the warehouse roof running leadwork around the upper ventilation stacks. And all the while, he kept checking his phone. Nothing from Harrison. No text. No missed call. Not even a passive-aggressive update about the bloody paint fragment.Which somehow felt worse than arguing.

Because silence meant Harrison had retreated.

By late afternoon, Jake took Teddy back to his parents’ place after rugby. It was still awkward there. Fragile. But lighter than before. His mum had stocked the cupboards at last. His dad looked less angry and more… tired. As if the fury had finally burned itself out and left nothing but exhaustion behind. And when Teddy came barrelling through the back door carrying half the rugby pitch on his boots, Donnie caught him by the shoulder, pressing a rough kiss to the top of his head.

“Sorry, lad.” The apology came out so gruff it almost sounded like an insult.

Almost.

Then he shoved a shoebox at him.

Teddy frowned. Opened it. And immediately let out a noise Jake was fairly certain only dogs should be able to hear. “No way.” He snatched a rugby boot out of the packaging. “Adidas Predator Elites!” He gaped at them as if someone had handed him the Crown Jewels. “Are you serious?”

“Aye,” Donnie laughed. “Cost a fortune them, so you be careful with ‘em.”

Teddy pulled them on, then stomped around the kitchen twice, before sprinting straight through the back door.

“Watch the flowerbeds!” Maggie shouted after him as she sizzled sausages in a pan.

The warning arrived approximately three seconds too late as Teddy tore around the garden with the biggest grin Jake’d seen in weeks.

He turned back to his dad. “Where’d you get the money for those?”

Donnie opened the fridge and tossed him a beer. “Got a bonus.”

Jake caught it one-handed. “Bonus from who?”