Page 70 of Corpse Roads
For a country terrorised by a serial killer that snatches women without leaving a trace and carves them into pretty pieces, this development is big news. My balls are on the line.
“They want a name.”
“We’re not fucking giving them one,” I hiss into the phone. “Harlow has a right to anonymity. It’s a matter of safety.”
“I know that, but these people don’t care. They’ll hire private investigators and terrorise her unless we give more information.”
“Let them fucking try.”
“They know she’s under Sabre’s protection,” he supplies. “With Whitcomb dead and no new leads, your reputation is going to take a battering for keeping this under wraps.”
“Christ, I thought I paid you to help me with this shit.”
“You do, which is why I’m telling you—be transparent. The SCU lost public confidence early on in this case and never recovered.”
Tell me something I don’t know. We intervened and helped to clear up their organisation following a corruption scandal, but even after all that, a lack of funding and budget cuts have worsened the situation.
“Levelling with them is your safest bet,” Lucas concludes. “Put Harlow out there. Get her to give a statement.”
I knock back the last of my tea. “Just deflect any questions about the Whitcomb girl and keep Harlow’s name out of it.”
Hanging up the call, I slam my phone down on the desk. Chewing out my own employees has never been my style, but this case is doing things to all of us.
I’ve been firefighting this escalating nightmare all week. We’re being hounded for results in every direction possible. Harlow’s testimony only created more unanswerable questions for us.
Every time I think about her, my heart squeezes in pain. It took everything in me to kick her out when I wanted nothing more than to take her to my bed and wipe the sadness from her face.
It’s driving me insane to be here every day, unable to be close to her as I want to be. We bump into each other around the house in the evenings, and she can barely look at me after what happened.
I often catch myself staring into her hopeless gaze, searching for a glimmer of strength to ease my guilt. She has this powerful effect on me, sparking emotions that I haven’t felt in a long time.
I don’t want her to be strong. I want to keep her safe, secure and well out of reach until this madness ends. Last time I felt this way, we lost everything. I can’t go through that again.
None of us can.
“Hunt?”
Theo’s head pokes through my door.
“What’s up?” I sigh.
“I need to speak to you. It’s urgent.”
My stomach somersaults. “Come in.”
He steps into the room, his navy-blue flannel shirt rumpled. There’s an old coffee stain down the front of his white tee, and his clear, blue eyes look tired behind glasses half covered by tight, blonde ringlets.
I’ve been pushing him like crazy, determined to get this case wrapped up as quickly as possible. We’re throwing all of our resources at it, for better or for worse.
“I’ve tracked Harlow all the way to a tiny town near Northumberland.” He leans against the wall. “She appears on a CCTV camera approaching from the east on foot.”
“Where?” I demand excitedly.
“Seems to be a very rural area bordering a huge nature reserve. Remote, unpopulated. It’s safe to assume she escaped from somewhere nearby.”
My anticipation rises. This is the biggest breakthrough we’ve had since we took the case on and spent months trawling through evidence.
“Start scouting the area for potential locations,” I rattle off. “Check for churches with the local parish. This bastard could be living right under our noses.”
