Tugging his phone out of his pocket, he saw five missed calls and several more messages, all overlapping one another.
‘Sarge, do I put urine samples in the fridge or the freezer?’
‘Sarge, can I take annual leave next Thursday? My nan’s having her gallbladder out.’
‘DS Smith, when taking evidential swabs, am I supposed to take wet or dry samples first? Tina says dry but I think it’s wet.’
Blake snarled and almost threw his phone into the wilderness, because he may as well have stayed at fucking work.
‘Fridge.’
‘Yes.’
‘Wet.’
Jogging along his back fence, he glanced up and saw that his bedroom window was a little condensated. It must have dropped colder in the time he’d been out, and when he rounded the corner onto Bell Lane there were small dust clouds floating across the narrow road. They were laced with grass from the fields, meaning a storm was probably about to blow in.
His inner wolf snarled when it realised they were returning home, and Blake had to take several long breaths to stop the sound bubbling out of his mouth.
Sighing, he clocked his elderly neighbour, Val, teetering on the garden wall between their houses. Her stockings were pooled around her ankles, revealing a network of varicose veins and purple bruises. She was trying to reach the electricity box again, which had been the cause of the bruises last time.
“Valerie!” he shouted, knowing full well she couldn’t hear him. Pushing open the wooden gate, he hopped up the six uneven steps and gently tugged her arm. “Val, for the love of?—”
Val jerked round, her bright white perm swaying slightly in the early evening breeze.
“Eh? What?” She shouted, yanking her arm away. “Don’t sneak up on an old woman,you. I could have knocked yer lights out!”
Blake snorted. Although she was almost ninety and as deaf as a post, he had to admit the old alpha still possessed a stunning left hook.
“Val, if I’ve told you once I’ve told you a hundred fucking times. If the electricity cuts out, you use the trip switch next to the telephone.”
“What’re you on about? What switch?”
Sighing, Blake coaxed her back off the garden wall and led her inside. Deciding it was pointless showing her the trip switch for the twentieth time, he settled her in her grubby cream recliner.
“Have you eaten?” he said, putting his face right in front of hers.
Val’s eyes darted to his lips, and she scowled. “Yes, yes,” she said, waving him out of the way of the television.
Grimacing, Blake eyed the stack of dirty dishes by the sink. Running a hand through his hair, he straightened. “And where are your hearing aids?” he said, turning back to her.
Without answering, she flicked a hand towards the wall cabinets hanging above the ancient fridge. Blake groaned when he noticed the African Grey parrot sitting on top of the cabinets, staring at him with her smug, beady little eyes.
“For the love of—” Stalking over to the kitchen, he reached out and shooed the bird away. She flapped and squawked, sending a flurry of feathers into Blake’s face. “Cherry,” he said through gritted teeth, “move.”
Reaching over the filthy wooden cornice, he felt around on the top of the cabinet, running his fingers over all the things Cherry had stolen over the last few weeks. He sighed when he found the TV remote, a wooden spoon and a pair of Val’s compression socks hidden underneath a pile of shredded paperwork. Eventually, his fingertips located the purple hearing aids and he dusted them off and handed them back to the elderly alpha.
If Val minded him doing the washing up, she said nothing, and as he hung the tea-towel over the back of a kitchen chair, he noticed her CPAP machine lying next to her recliner in pieces.
“Val, what happened to?—”
His ear twitched at the sound of a key rattling in the front door of number 1 Bell Lane. He listened for a moment, reckoning that the end terrace had been empty for at least six months. Perhaps it was the police officer in him, or perhaps he was just a nosy fucker, but before he could stop himself he was stridingtowards the front door and out onto Val’s porch. His expression dropped when he saw who was standing there.
“O-oh, hello,” the omega said, one hand still gripping the key in the door. He took a step back, a purple gift bag in his hand. The messy handwriting on the tag read,Almost forgot, congrats on the new place!
The handwriting looked vaguely familiar.
Blake’s mouth twitched, and he became aware that he was glowering.
