Page 66 of In Too Deep

Harrison nodded. “Who was on site most consistently?”

“Me. My lad. Couple of the roofing crew.”

“Anyone notice unusual vehicle movement near the river access?” Harrison glanced around. “Lights overnight? Someone hanging about?”

“We’re not on sight in the dark. Not practical.” Levenson frowned at the river. “And in the day, most of us are focused on not falling through rotten roofing panels. We’re here on a tight deadline. Big contract for us. Blackridge owns half these bloody units. We keep him happy, there’s plenty more where this came from.”

“What about your lads?” Calder nudged his chin at those on the scaffolding. “Anyone mention seeing owt?”

Levenson shook his head. “Not to me. But I can ask.”

“Please do.” Harrison smoothed a hand down his tie after the wind caught it sideways again. “Even something that seems insignificant could matter.”

“Course.” Levenson nodded. “Whoever she is, I hope you get answers for her family.”

Harrison tilted his head. “Who said it was a woman?”

Levenson shrugged. “Gossip does.”

The roar of an engine tore through the compound before Harrison could respond, and a battered white van came hurtling around the access bend, tyres spraying muddy water across the gravel before braking hard beside the scaffold tower.

Harrison’s stomach dropped.

He knew the sound of that van. Knew the warped bass rattling through the speakers before he even looked up. And naturally, of all the bloody sites in Hartswick, it would be this one Jake had walked off yesterday.

“You’ve got to be joking.” Levenson shoved his hard hat back with visible irritation. “The fucking cheek of it.”

Calder glanced over. “Problem?”

“Oh, aye.” Levenson folded his arms. “There’ll be a problem alright.”

The engine died. The driver’s door slammed, followed by the crunch of boots across wet gravel. Harrison kept his attention determinedly on the river until Jake stopped beside them, hood pulled up against the drizzle, bringing the smell of rain and damp cotton with him.

And, beneath it, Harrison’s shower gel.

Christ.

Less than an hour ago, Jake had been naked in his bed, sweat-slick and breathless, their bodies grinding together. Harrison had eventually dragged himself out from beneath the covers, sent Jake to use his shower while he made breakfast, then kissed him goodbye at the door. Now that same man stood three feet away smelling of Harrison’s shower gel while his DS watched them both, and Harrison was expected to behave as though Jake Whitton were simply another member of the roofing crew.

Which, professionally, was exactly what he was.

Unfortunately, Harrison’s body appeared to have missed that particular briefing.

“Whitton.” Calder snapped his notebook shut. “You’ve got a habit of turning up near my crime scenes.”

Jake’s gaze travelled from Calder to Levenson before finally landing on Harrison.

Harrison’s pulse kicked.

This was getting dangerously close to the edge.

“Could say the same about you, DS Calder.” Jake’s gaze found Harrison. “Morning, Detective.”

Harrison kept his expression neutral. “Good morning, Mr Whitton.”

A knowing smile tugged at Jake’s mouth.

Bastard.