Page 108 of Too Close To Home

“Right… let me pull the request up… yeah, I can see it here. That went through overnight.”

“Has anything come back yet?”

“Not yet, sir. Telecoms can take a few hours even on urgent.”

Harrison leaned back in his chair. “The suspect claims the phone’s broken.”

“Broken?”

“That’s his version.”

“Well, the cell-site should still show the last mast connection if it had battery at the time.”

“That’s exactly what I want.”

More typing followed. “I’ll flag it again as urgent and chase the provider.”

“And run the International Mobile Equipment Identity as well.” Harrison rubbed a hand across his forehead, wondering if he was more prone to headaches here in Yorkshire or if the one he had when he’d arrived hadn’t left yet.

“The handset ID?”

“Yes. If the SIM’s been pulled and someone’s using the phone with another card, I want to know about it.”

“Understood. We’ll check if the handset’s pinged on any other network activity.”

“And send the call data too. Calls, texts, anything active on the line from Wednesday afternoon onwards.”

“Got it.”

Harrison tapped his pen on the desk. “Ring me the moment anything lands.”

“You’ll be first to know, sir.”

“Appreciate it.”

He hung up.

Calder raised an eyebrow. “Think it’ll tell us much if the phone’s gone?”

“Phones don’t vanish as easily as people think.” He tapped the CCTV still where Andy stood, patting his pockets beside the untouched pint. “If that handset connected to a mast anywhere near the woodland path Wednesday night…” He met Calder’s gaze. “…then we have enough to bring Andy Mitchell in and question him. Hard.”

Calder gave a short huff of agreement but paused at the doorway. “Word of caution then, sir.”

Harrison glanced up. “Go on.”

“Keep that information firmly away from Jake Whitton.” He then took his laptop and disappeared back out into the main office, the door swinging shut behind him.

Harrison remained where he was, pulse suddenly thudding hard enough that he could feel it in his throat.

The timing of all this was impeccable.

Harrison Black. Metropolitan Police detective. A record described more than once as exemplary. Twenty years of service without a whisper of scandal attached to his name. Steady. Dependable. The sort of officer the younger detectives were told to model themselves after. The long-term partner, and eventual husband, of a decorated firearms officer whose photograph still hung on a commendation board in London.

Yet he’d been in Hartswick less than a week.

Less than a week.

And already he’d kissed a key witness in both a current missing person investigation and a thirteen-year-old cold case. A man with a criminal record. Who’d once assaulted the very suspect Harrison was about to arrest.