Jonny circled the station a few times. There was one small light shining in the window, which was likely Inspector Finch.
When he had initially started watching the police office, he had hoped someone else would be on duty. He had actually liked this man, who was one of the few non-corrupt officers left in Manchester. A man who had principles, who refused to be bribed or blackmailed.
Hard to find someone like that.
And Jonny was about to betray him after the man had believed in them.
It made Jonny feel sick to his stomach, almost like how he had felt when Will hadn’t been there for him at the very time he had needed him the most.
But he was doing this for the people who cared about him now. The people who had become his family. That was what he had to keep reminding himself.
He snuck around the back of the building, standing on his toes to look in the window. It was barred, so not an entrypoint, but he hoped to be able to see just what he was dealing with.
Finch was sitting at the desk in the main room, going through evidence, another constable snoozing at the front desk. A couple of men were sitting in the cells in the back, but from the looks of things, they were just sleeping off whatever they had put themselves through earlier in the evening. The only sounds were the scratch of a pen and the distant drip of water from the eaves.
Jonny was fairly certain the ledger was held in the middle of the main room, the one where Inspector Finch was working. But if he was correct in his timing and from his observations over the past few nights, soon enough, Finch would move back into his office, which should give Jonny enough time to enter, grab the ledger, and leave the way he came.
Jonny moved to the back door, pulling his pack off his back and placing it down quietly beside him. He didn’t need light to find what he was looking for, as he wrapped his fingers around the small pick and tension wrench he’d fashioned himself at the bottom of the pack. He raised it to the door, ready to go to work, when he heard a rustle behind him.
He turned quickly, on edge, but saw no one nearby.
Just the cold stone of the building behind him, a few trees to the side.
He frowned, his senses on high alert. He usually relied on instincts, for they had rarely proven wrong in the past.
Something wasn’t right.
He just wasn’t sure what it was yet.
He knelt in front of the door, tools in hand, before he went to work carefully on the lock. The night was still. Shouts from a tavern echoed in the distance, gas lamps hissed from the street beyond, and — there — the steady drip of light rain that had just begun, although the building kept him dryenough. It was almost as though the city was holding its breath, waiting for him to finish the job at hand.
Metal against metal clicked within the lock, echoing far too loudly in his ears, but it was the only way he was going to get in. Just a couple of turns and — footsteps sounded from within.
Jonny scrambled out of the way, ducking behind a nearby rain barrel just in time as the back door opened, and out walked Inspector Finch. He tossed out a bucket of dirty water as Jonny held his breath, remaining motionless. When the inspector turned back toward the police office, Jonny foolishly closed his eyes as though that would help hide him, but the Inspector didn’t even glance in his direction as he returned to the building.
Jonny let out the breath he had been holding, knowing that this should be the time, that if Finch was preparing the detainees for the evening, he would now go to his office to do a bit of paperwork before the night constable would relieve him. That would never do, for that man spent all night at the desk right in front of where the evidence was kept, and Jonny might never have the opportunity to steal inside without having to use force to get what he had come for.
He made quick work of the lock after that, closing his eyes and trying to slow his pulse and to allow it to move effortlessly.
There — the final click, and he was through. He opened the door slowly, quietly, peering around the corner to find that the middle room was, thankfully, now empty, the Inspector’s door closed at the end of the hall. The sparse room was just as he remembered it, with wooden desks flickering gaslight, the smell of ink and damp wool permeating through the air.
The night constable was still snoozing at the front of the station, as he had done for the past three nights while the inspector was still in the building.
Jonny stayed low, nearly in a crouch in case he needed to hide quickly. He rounded the corner, finding the cabinet marked “Evidence,” keeping his pick in his hand so that he could work on the drawer, which he guessed was locked as well.
He eyed it with a frown once he neared, for it was one of the more complicated locks, although he supposed if there was ever a place for such, this was it. He fit his tools into it, softly cursing as it was harder than expected, in a style he hadn’t seen for some time now. His nerves flickered, for he was aware that if he was caught, not only would he lose everything he worked so hard for, but his friends would also be implicated for their association with him, and Finch could even lose his job for having trusted him in the first place.
Guilt twinged at his betrayal, but his intentions were solid. He was doing this to try to save everyone around him, not to put them in harm’s way.
He breathed out a prayer of thanks as the lock clicked, and he searched the drawer, quickly finding the black leather-bound book. He lifted it, peeking within just to ensure it was the book he was after, and silently shut the drawer and relocked it. He was about to put it into his bag when a low rumble emerged from the shadows of the room.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Jonny whipped his head around, seeking out the identity of the voice, although he knew, deep within him, who it was before the man stepped out from the shadows.
Will.
“I’ll take that,” Will said in a low voice, holding out his hand.
