Page 101

But the other reason his morning had been hell was his work. Third day on the job, and they were deep into the ugly part of it now.

The sun had come out hard by ten, the weird spell of hot weather in spring turning the black roofing surface into a fucking griddle beneath his boots. Most of the lads had ditched their tops hours ago. Jake included. Sweat rolled down his spine as he crouched near the edge flashing detail, drill hanging off his belt while radios crackled somewhere below across the estate. From up there, Hartswick looked washed pale beneath the afternoon heat. Industrial units stretched out below in long rows of corrugated steel and faded signage, broken only by the distant tree line and the ribbon of the river cutting through the edge of town.

Beyond that sat the moors, hazy beneath the sun.

Jake wiped sweat from his eyes with the back of his wrist and drove another fixing into the edge trim. Around him the roof buzzed with work. Scotty and another lad were further down, heat-welding the fresh membrane into place, crouched low with gas torches as they rolled the black sheeting carefully across the insulation boards. Every few seconds came the hiss of flame and the scrape of weighted rollers smoothing seams flat before they cooled. Roman was near one of the skylight upstands, fitting new lead detailing where the old flashing had failed, while Levenson shouted measurements from below beside a pallet crane lifting more insulation sheets onto the roof.

The place smelled of hot tar, burnt dust and sun-baked metal.

Jake had ended up on the highest section again, clipped into the safety line running along the ridge while he replaced damaged edge capping where years of weather had warped the metal. It suited him up there. Less chatter. More air. And somewhere between the relentless hammering and the shimmer of heat rolling off the roof surface, he caught himself wondering whether Harrison was thinking about him too.

Turned out he didn’t have to wonder long.

Cause just after four, movement below snagged his attention. A sleek, black car rolled through the dirt track towards the site entrance, sunlight flashing across the windscreen. Jake’s heartbeat kicked hard before his brain had even caught up.

Police.

He knew the cars by now. Plain black, clean lines, hidden blues tucked behind the grille and rear window. The car stopped beside the temporary security gate and Harrison stepped out. Even from thirty feet up, Jake recognised him instantly. Tie still immaculate despite the heat. Shirt creased but no less devastating in how it clung to his taut body beneath. And he slid off his sunglasses while he showed his warrant card to security. Levenson wandered over, hard hat tucked beneath one arm, and the two exchanged a few words.

“Those coppers still sniffing round this job?” Scotty called from somewhere behind Jake.

Roman leaned over the roof edge, shielding his eyes from the glare. “Didn’t we give our statements already? Why they sniffing about here again?”

Levenson said something to Harrison, then pointed upwards. Harrison followed the gesture. And the distance between them suddenly felt far smaller than the drop beneath Jake’s boots.

Levenson let out a sharp whistle across the roof. “Whitton!”

A few of the lads glanced over and Jake tried very hard not to grin like a fucking idiot.

Unfortunately, Roman saw it, and his gaze moved from Jake to Harrison below, then back again. “What’ve you done this time?”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Nowt.”

“Oh, aye. That’s exactly what guilty people say.”

A few of the lads laughed.

Roman pointed at him. “Look at his face. He’s either getting arrested or proposed to.”

Jake shot him the finger, then tugged his T-shirt free from where he’d tucked it into the back of his work trousers, wiping sweat from his neck and jaw before clipping his drill back onto his belt. He reached for his harness line and instead of trudging back down the scaffold stairs, he hooked himself onto the descent system fixed near the ridge anchor point and swung smoothly over the roof edge.

Was he peacocking?

Yeah, probably.

Didn’t care.

“Show off!” Roman called to him.

Jake waved him off, then with his boots braced against the steel cladding, he controlled the descent one-handed through the friction device, dropping fast but steady down the side of the warehouse. The scaffold rattled faintly around him as he pushed off one level, then another, moving with practised ease until he caught the lower rail with one hand and vaulted the final few feet onto the gravel below. Harness straps clinked softly against his hips as he unclipped in one motion.

When he straightened, he cocked his head at Harrison watching him. Though the look on his face wasn’t the one he’d expected when having done that stunt topless for him. He was tight around the mouth. Controlled. Equal parts irritation and something else underneath.

Work mode.

Ah.

Levenson gestured with his clipboard. “DI wants a word.”