Page 163

“Only the six now.” Davo folded his arms. “Had to let one go.”

Harrison nodded, having expected that. Not only has he disposed of paperwork over the weekend, he’d got rid of the staff who might talk.

“Which one?”

“Raff.” Davo pushed away from the office. “Unreliable. Always summat or other with that baby of his.”

Fuck. Raff. The bassist in Jake’s band. The anonymous caller. Young bloke with a wife, a baby, and enough conscience left to panic after recognising Lauren Pike’s car description on the news. And Davo had got rid.

Harrison stepped back from him and pulled out his phone. He rang Jake. Straight to voicemail. Fair enough. The man was probably halfway up a scaffold somewhere with power tools screaming around him. Plus, his old phone never seemed to work. He’d spent the weekend watching Jake trying to get it to charge. But he’d wanted to give Jake a heads-up. Let him know Raff might need support if this search turned ugly. If Raff’s tip led them to evidence, to an arrest, then CID could protect him. Hell, they might even pressure compensation out of Blackridge for unfair dismissal if it came to it.

But for any of that to matter, they needed to find something first.

So they’d better damn well find something.

Calder wandered over, clutching a coffee and looking far too cheerful for a man about to legally dismantle someone else’s livelihood.

“Guv.” He jerked his chin at the isolated lock-up unit at the rear of the yard. “CSI are starting in there first.”

“Good.”

Davo scoffed behind them. “Won’t find owt.”

Harrison glanced back at him. “Why? Did you clear it particularly thoroughly, knowing we’d want to have at it?”

Davo snorted at that and wandered off towards one of the stripped shells near the fence line while CSI disappeared into the lock-up.

Harrison watched him go for a moment.

Then Murray appeared beside him holding a ledger folder inside an evidence sleeve. “Guv.”

He turned. “What’ve we got?”

“Found these in the office safe.” She opened the folder carefully against the bonnet of the pool car. “Most of the central pages have been torn out, but some carbon copies stayed behind.”

Harrison leaned over the paperwork. Most of it looked mundane enough. Scrap collections. Salvage transfers. Insurance write-offs. Then something caught his eye. Repeated references to south-site access. Levenson Construction. Old admin block. Unit Twelve. Temporary storage. Late night deliveries.

Harrison frowned. Wasn’t that the company Jake was currently subcontracting for? “What the hell are they storing over there?”

“Could be overflow from the yard,” Murray offered.

Maybe. But his gut prickled anyway. Then another line farther down. Concrete disposal booking. Demolition prep. South admin block. Scheduled tomorrow morning.

Calder wandered over again. “CSI have found possible blood staining in the rear lock-up. Looks like someone’s tried washing it away.”

Harrison looked up sharply. “Confirmed?”

“Presumptive test’s positive. They’re photographing and swabbing it now. I’ve told them to submit it as urgent and request a DNA comparison against Lauren.”

Davo barked out a laugh from afar. “You lot finding blood in a scrapyard? Fuck me, call the papers.”

No one laughed along with him.

Harrison scanned the ledger sheets. “These after-hours entries.” He tapped the paper. “Who signed these?”

“Mostly Davo,” Murray said. “Some initials we can’t place yet.”

One stood out. R.L. repeated several times over the past month.