Chapter Three Last Known Location #4
Heat rose under Harrison’s collar, and he forced himself not to react. So he dropped his gaze back to Jake’s chest as if cataloguing evidence rather than registering the charge running between them.
Professional. Stay professional.
“So,” he said, tone returning to business. “Other than enjoying your breakfast at this particularly scenic stretch of police tape, why are you here?”
Jake snorted. “To watch you lot trip over yourselves and botch another investigation on your doorstep.”
That was hostility dressed as sarcasm.
Harrison didn’t bristle. “I can assure you, we don’t need an audience for that.” He adjusted his blazer cuffs. “We botch things perfectly well when left unsupervised.”
Jake tilted his head, like a puppy might. The anger didn’t disappear, but confusion cut into it. As if he hadn’t expected humour. Or honesty. And he narrowed his eyes. “You’re new.”
“I am.” Harrison allowed the faintest trace of self-deprecation into his voice. “First day here, actually. Nothing like being thrown in at the deep end. At least it saves me from having to watch those dreadful introductory videos.”
Jake narrowed his eyes. “You joking?”
“Dry humour, yes. And possibly ill-timed. But not joking about this being my first day or being grateful that I don’t have to take the fire safety quiz.”
A reluctant breath of amusement escaped Jake. “Welcome to Hartswick.”
“Thank you.” Harrison gripped the olive branch and gently leaned into the opening, lowering his voice to strip the audience from the moment. “Look, if you’re standing here because you’re worried something’s being missed, I’d rather you say that than throw punches at my sergeant.”
Jake darted his gaze towards Calder. “Your sergeant needs to stay out of my way then.”
Calder scoffed, but held his ground.
Harrison clocked the fault line between them. Small-town history. Bruised pride. And it predated this morning.
“Technically,” Harrison said evenly, “you’re in his.”
“Technically.” Jake’s eyes came back to him. And that was… inconvenient. Because they were a clear, striking blue. Not soft. Not gentle. Direct. And on a face suggesting trouble and knew it. “It’s the other way round.”
Calder rolled his eyes, folding his arms.
Silence stretched. Mist drifted between them in slow breaths, thinning, thickening, never quite settling.
Then, finally, Jake gestured to Harrison. “This path’s got history.”
“I gathered.”
“You don’t know what you’ve walked into.”
“No. Because at the moment, you’re standing in my way to find out.”
Jake searched his face, looking for something to strike against. Arrogance. Dismissal. Ego. Harrison gave him none of it.
“I’m not here to defend what happened before.” Harrison smoothed down his tie, an overt gesture to get his head back to professional. “I’m here to find out what’s happening now. Time matters. So if you have information that helps us do that, you come to me directly.”
The tension in Jake’s shoulders eased. It didn’t vanish completely but loosened enough to let him breathe. “Don’t mess it up.”
“I don’t plan to.” Harrison straightened, professionalism sliding back into place like a coat buttoned against the cold. “But I must ask you to please stay outside of the tape.”
Jake held his gaze, chewing his lip. “Alright. Cause you asked nicely.”
“Appreciated.”
“Aye, don’t make me regret it.”
Harrison gave a nod, then angled his head at Calder and ducked beneath the cordon. The tape brushed his shoulder as he stepped into the trees. And he felt Jake’s gaze on his back. Hated that he noticed it, too. Hated more that it wasn’t unwelcome.
Calder fell into step beside him on the path. “You handled him well.”
Harrison glanced sideways and caught Jake still standing beyond the tape, arms folded, watching through the thinning mist. Those blue eyes hadn’t moved. Unblinking. Measuring.
“What’s the history?” Harrison asked.
Calder’s jaw set. “He don’t like me.”
“That I picked up myself. I was more asking the why?”
“Because I arrested him.”
Harrison drifted his gaze back to Jake, taking him in properly.
The build. The coiled stance. Yes, there was heat there.
Temper. But it wasn’t the cold volatility of someone who hurt for sport.
He’d responded to direction. Pulled back when pushed.
Came across as cheeky rather than the profile of a repeat aggressor.
He turned back to Calder. “For what?”
“Burglary and GBH.”
Jesus.
Grievous bodily harm.
“Did three years.” Calder stepped over a fallen log without looking back.
Harrison slowed a fraction. It didn’t align. Not cleanly. He’d seen men come out of prison harder. Sharper round the edges. Jake’s anger felt… contained. Focused.
“Who did he assault?”
Calder kept his eyes on the narrowing trail ahead. “The man he reckons abducted his sister.”
Harrison’s stride faltered. He looked back. Jake was still there. Watching.
“Thirteen years ago.” Calder sighed as the mist thickened around them. “From this path.”
Harrison halted. Glanced back at Jake.
Fuck.
Suddenly, everything about this case changed.
This wasn’t just a missing girl.
This was a wound that had never closed.