Chapter Two Feedback Loop #3
Jake threw the rest of his roll into the bin, appetite gone, and rounded the van quick, yanked the driver’s door open and climbed in.
“Eat.” He shoved the other bacon roll at Teddy. “I’m taking you in.”
Teddy frowned. “What’s happened?”
“Nowt you need to worry about.”
Which meant everything.
He drove faster than he should’ve, chewing the inside of his cheek raw, as Teddy munched through his breakfast.
At the school gates he signed Teddy in, muttering about a dentist appointment and ignoring the receptionist’s look. The one that said she knew it wasn’t true but wasn’t going to push it.
He gave Teddy’s shoulder a brief shove towards the doors. “Go on.”
He didn’t wait to see whether the whispers had started yet. They would. They always did. Back in the van, he yanked his phone from the dash mount and cancelled three repair jobs with blunt, one-line texts.
Can’t make it. Reschedule next week.
Emergency. Will call.
Not today.
Then he pulled out and headed back through town towards the high street, tyres spitting damp grit.
He aimed for the King’s Arms. It wouldn’t be open yet, but Pete lived above it.
And he could find out who this girl was and what had happened.
What the plan was to find her. But as he turned the corner, the road opened onto Fell Edge and Jake’s stomach dropped.
It was that footpath.
And it felt as though he was driving straight into a memory.
The same tape. The same path. The same sick, metallic taste at the back of his throat.
For a second, he was eighteen again, lungs burning from shouting into trees that never answered back.
Because there, at the entrance to the woodland path, was the familiar tape of blue-and-white cutting across it.
With two marked cars angled at the verge further up.
A fucking dog unit too. And high-vis jackets moving in sweeping lines inside the treeline.
Jake swung the van up the verge and was out before the engine finished its uneven cough. “Oi!”
One uniform turned. She was young. Early twenties, he’d guess. Trying hard to keep her ground.
“What’s going on?” Jake strode towards the tape, jutting his chin at the search team.
“Sir, you can’t come through here.”
“I’m not asking to go through. I’m asking what’s going on.”
The officer planted herself in front of the tape. “We’re carrying out enquiries. Please step back behind the cordon.”
Jake leaned sideways, looking past her into the trees, pulse throbbing hard. “How long?”
“Sir?”
“How long’s she been missing?”
The officer sighed, mist curling from her lips. “Since last night.”
Jake scraped a hand through his curls. “Fuck.” He stepped closer to the tape. “What you found?”
“If you’ve got information, I’ll take your details,” the officer replied. “But I can’t discuss specifics.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “Course you can’t. God fucking forbid you give out information that might actually help.”
Another officer approached. He was older. Seasoned. With sergeant’s stripes on his sleeve. And the way he looked Jake up and down made his nostrils flare. “Step back, please.”
“I know this land better than you,” Jake shot back. “That path—”
“Is currently part of a search area.” The sergeant stepped in closer. “If you’ve walked it recently, I need to know. Otherwise, stay behind the tape and let us handle this.”
Jake stared at him, gritting his teeth. “Didn’t handle it too well last time, did you?”
The segreant narrowed his eyes. “What’s your name?”
“Whitton.” Jake held his ground. “Jake.”
Recognition hit the bloke in the face. Quick and real. “Right.” The sergeant dipped his chin. “Mr Whitton… I get this is difficult. But if you cross that cordon or interfere with the search, I’ll have to detain you. Don’t make me do that.”
Heat tore through him. Reckless and familiar.
The same surge that had put cuffs on his wrists years ago.
The same flash that had split knuckles and landed him inside.
It prowled through his muscles, urging him forward.
Over the tape, into the trees, down onto his knees to claw at the earth until it gave something back.
Because another girl was missing.
Another family was sitting at a kitchen table, staring at a clock.
Jake stepped forward anyway. Right up to the tape. Close enough for it to brush his stained hoodie.
The young constable placed her hand on his chest. “Sir.”
Jake curled his hands into fists, opened them, then curled them again. One more step and they’d have him. Part of him almost wanted them to. But he breathed in. Once. Twice.
Then he stepped back. “Fine. I’ll wait.”
“For what?” the officer asked.
“Whoever’s in charge.”
The sergeant nodded. “CID are on their way.”
“Good.” Jake folded his arms over the ketchup stain on his jumper. “Be pleased to meet them.”
He then moved off to the verge, fixing his gaze on the mist swallowing the treeline, as if staring hard enough might force it to give something up.
If they missed something.
If they walked past it.
If this became another one of those searches…
His jaw tightened until it hurt.
He couldn’t let it.
Not again.