Page 20 of In Too Deep

“Do you?” Deacon swiped his tongue along his top lip.

Jake finished his pint. Stood. “I’m off.”

Deacon looked up at him. “What? Come on! Let’s get another. You gotta keep me in check.”

“Here’s your chance to try out that word I taught you. It’s easy. Think of it like one hard kick on the bass drum.” Jake stamped his foot on the floor boards. “No.”

Deacon snorted.

Jake then threw the girls a quick wink. “See you at the next set.” He squeezed Deacon’s shoulder. “And he’s got a girlfriend.”

Deacon scowled at him.

So Jake chuckled, then lifted a hand to Pete behind the bar, purposefully avoiding Brodie watching him, before pushing out into the night. The air hit him. Still warm, heavy with the day, but he paused on the pavement, drifting his gaze unconsciously across the road to Fell Edge.

He’d been walking it more lately. As if going back might change something. As if the ground might finally give up what it had taken. Might give him some clue where Robyn could be. He didn’t expect her to be alive. That he’d come to terms with some time back. Not after thirteen years. But her body…surely that had to turn up eventually. And if it did, it could give them all closure.

It never had, though.

He sighed, dragging a hand over his face, then turned away and headed for the van. The drive back blurred. Same roads, same turns. Then, inside his dingy bedsit, he kicked off his boots, grabbed his guitar, and let his fingers find something. Chords first, then rhythm. Picking it apart. Building it back up. Tapping the beat out with his feet.

The song was there. Half-formed. Rough. He didn’t have all the words yet, but he knew what sat underneath it. Don’t wait. Don’t stall. Don’t let something pass you by because you’re too scared to take it.

He didn’t need to say who it was about.

He checked his phone. Once. Then again.

Nothing.

Midnight came and went, so he dropped the guitar aside and stripped off before falling back onto the bed. Heat pressed in, heavy and unmoving, but eventually, he fell asleep. Though it couldn’t have been long before a knock on his door pulled him out of it. He jerked upright, heart pounding. For a second, he thought he’d imagined it. Then it came again. Hesitant. As if whoever stood on the other side wasn’t sure they should be there at all.

Jake scrubbed a hand over his face, listening.

Another knock.

“Alright…” he muttered under his breath.

Then he shuffled down the bed, dragging the sheet with him, wrapping it clumsily around his waist before padding to the door. He cracked it open.

Harrison’s eyes met his. “Hey.”

Jake’s chest gave a stupid little lurch.

He pulled the door wider and stepped aside, trying to drag himself properly awake as Harrison slipped past him. The door clicked shut, and Jake blinked at him, taking in what he hadn’t registered at first.

Harrison wasn’t wearing the jeans and T-shirt from earlier. The Gazelles were gone. So was the softer, off-duty version of him Jake had spent the morning teasing.

DI Black was back.

Except not quite.

The suit was there, if only shirt and trousers, no tie or jacket. But the man inside it looked wrecked, as though he’d come straight from whatever the job had thrown at him and hadn’t managed to leave any of it behind.

“Sorry to just turn up…” Harrison turned from the door. Then stopped. Looked down.

Jake followed his gaze and remembered he was standing there in nothing but a sheet. He tightened his grip on it, hauling it a little higher around his waist. “S’alright. You okay?”

“Yeah. I…” Harrison dragged his gaze back to Jake’s face. “I needed to talk to you.”