“Did they get cosy?”
“Attempted. Also clocked an exchange. Already sent through to CID. Reid wasn’t in it, but the link’s there.”
“Location now?”
“Ellison’s still on site. Keeping an eye.”
A pause.“Keep your head, too.”
“I will.”
“Call in tomorrow.”
Warren cut the call as headlights washed across the car park and the last stragglers in the school left. He kept his engine off, staying in shadow at the far end, eyes locked on the lit doorway. It was full dark now. The school was hollowed-out, windows black, security lights throwing pale pools over the tarmac.
Then he sat up as Jude was shepherded out by the caretaker, his satchel slung over one shoulder, that faint stoop in his posture as if the day had wrung him dry. He exchanged a few words with the caretaker locking up behind him, then Jude crossed the empty lot. Unlocked his car. Got in.
Warren tightened his hands on the wheel and waited until Jude pulled out before switching his lights on and falling in two cars back.
Jude didn’t head home.
He drove without rush but with purpose, threading through the quiet streets, past the last lit shopfronts, then swung into a McDonald’s drive-through. Warren held back a street away, eyes on the glow of brake lights, watching him collect a paper bag and pull away. Warren fell in behind him once they were clear of town, the road opening into the coastal stretch running high over the black water. Jude took a lay-by overlooking nothing but dark sea and darker sky. Engine off. Lights out.
Warren eased to a stop fifty yards back, tucked into shadow. Watched.
For a while, Jude sat there. Gazing at the water. Picking at his food. Turning pages in a paperback to the torch on his phone. Warren checked his watch. Eleven p.m. What the hell was he doing here?
Then he got his answer.
Jude climbed into the back seat, stretching out awkwardly, jacket bunched under his head. Settling in for the night.
Warren exhaled hard.
Fuck.
Callum Reid had driven him out of his own home.
Warren hit the steering wheel enough to bruise his palm, the thud loud in the stillness. Then movement caught his eye. A cluster of hooded youths skated past, boards rattling over tarmac. Jude flinched up from the backseat, a silhouette behind misted glass, eyes tracking until they passed. Then he sank back down.
Warren’s nostrils flared with the force of his exhalation.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He dropped his head back.
Enough.
He got out, boots crunching on grit, and closed the distance to the rear driver’s side door and gave two firm knocks on the glass. Enough to wake him, not enough to threaten or spook.
It didn’t matter.
Jude bolted upright, a blur of movement in the dark. No glasses, no streetlamps, he wouldn’t be able to make out more than a silhouette, and he scrambled for something in the footwell.
“It’s me,” Warren said, low and calm. “Warren.”
But Jude didn’t ease. His shoulder hit the far door as he twisted away, breathing hard, still searching.
“Jude. Open the door.”
