And yet, Warren had felt a crack in his gut go deeper than protocol. Something that had nothing to do with duty or reports or the job.
Something older. Rawer.
Protect.
That was the instinct. Not investigate. Not observe.
Protect.
Was he compromised?
Or just human.
Now, three days later, here he was, standing by the school minibus in a waterproof jacket, ticking off names on a tablet. He’d logged the incident that night in his secure notes forthe taskforce. Jude Ellison, possible historic victim, displays physiological signs of unresolved trauma; link to Callum Reid: strong likelihood. Flagged it low-level for now, under the guise of teacher welfare, in case anyone checked.
Because he didn’t want to be pulled off this. Didn’t want to miss out on being close to him for this overnight school trip, where Jude wouldn’t have to go home.
Not if what he believed was happening behind closed doors.
He’d checked on him, too. Of course he had. He’d driven by the house more than once over the weekend. Sat in his car for hours, watching the windows, waiting for any sign of him. Callum Reid.Naomi knew. He’d caught him coming back once. And that was the worst part. “Unscheduled movements, Warren. You’re either sloppy or you’re compromised. Which one is it?”
The answer was both.
But Warren hadn’t seen Reid. Man was too smart for that. But Warren knew. Hefeltit. The shape of control. The way Jude’s shoulders were always braced too tight, as if someone was pulling strings under the surface. It was there in the flinch. The apology. The way he’d looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but in his own body when Warren had touched his hand.
No, Callum hadn’t shown himself. But Warren knew he was in there.
He just had to prove it.
Not guess. Not suspect.Prove.
Because until he had hard evidence, or a confession, he was just a PE teacher with an overdeveloped sense of empathy and a case file full of redacted history.
Until then, his hands were tied.
Officially.
Unofficially, they were tied too. Because how could he lay his hands on Jude again and get that response? When all he wantedto do was touch him and make him smile. Blush. Trust him. Not for the job but for something he buried way, way down.
“Alright, you lot.” Warren clapped his hands to get the group’s attention. “Get your bags under the coach, your snacksoffthe seats, and your attitudes reset to ‘not feral’ for the next thirty-six hours.”
A ripple of laughter ran through the Year Tens, already high on the promise of a trip away. A few elbowed each other. One kid, Reuben, shoved his oversized suitcase at the storage compartment with difficulty.
“What you got in there, Reu?” Warren helped him shove it into the back. “Your whole house?”
“It’s all his aftershave, sir!” A boy shouted from behind.
“Good, you can borrow some.” Warren tapped the kid’s back to get him onto the coach.
“Sir, I’m not sitting next to Harvey.” Lucas, the lad with a fade and floppy mop on top was already starting to wind Warren up. Too cocky. Brash. Thought he was God’s gift ‘cause he was on the football team and had a girlfriend. Lily. Also on the trip. Keeping an eye on those two would be almost as hard as keeping an eye on Callum Reid.
“You’re not,” Warren said. “He requested a window seat so he could dramatically pine for his Xbox. You’ll be across the aisle so I can monitor your emotional breakdown from a safe distance.”
“I’m emotionally stable,” Lucas muttered.
Warren raised a brow. “You’re wearing crocs with socks, mate. Don’t lie to yourself this early in the trip.”
That earned him another wave of laughter. Even Jude cracked a small smile as he finished checking a student off the digital register.
