“Vincent Whitehall.”

The name pulled Chad from the kitchen into the living room. He stopped munching the slice of toast in his hand, and openly gawped at the TV.

“I said no, Romeo, I promise I said no.”

Chad stared at the flashing banner on the bottom of the screen. Breaking News from inside Wiltknot Maximum Security Prison, Vincent Whitehall has agreed to help specialized officers in their search for Harriet Hastings remains.

The news studio cut to a reporter outside Wiltknot being jostled by other journalists as they tried and failed to talk over each other.

“Vincent Whitehall is said to be in a fragile state nearing the end of his life, but before he dies, he wants to give closure to the Hastings family.”

Romeo expelled a long breath. “Looks like Vincent isn’t accepting your no.”

Chad perched on the arm of the sofa. The toast dropped from his numb fingers when he saw his own name alongside James’s shooting across the bottom of the screen.

“It’s been reported that the lead officers on the case are Detective Inspector James Poole and Detective Constable Chad Fuller.”

“Fuck…”

Romeo hummed in agreement.

“Chad Fuller is, of course, the same one that had dealings with serial killers Romeo Knight and Marc Wilson, and more recently he was involved in the chloroform killings by Tate Bacon.”

“Dealings with?” Chad muttered.

“He’s going to make you dance, whether you want to or not.”

Chad walked out, mumbling over his shoulder. “I need a drink.”

He hurried back to the kitchen pursued by Romeo holding his dropped toast. Romeo threw the slice in the bin before turning to face Chad who had ignored the kettle and went to the cupboard with the whiskey bottles. He picked one at random, knowing he wouldn’t taste anything but the burn in the back of his throat. Chad studied the label as he got himself together and turned around.

“No,” Romeo said firmly, grabbing the bottle out of Chad’s hand. “Won’t do you much good if you drive to work drunk and get yourself arrested.”

“I’m going to call in sick.”

Romeo shook his head. “You can’t.”

“But—”

“If you call in sick, guess where those journalists will turn up…”

Chad shifted his gaze to the window and the fields beyond.

“They’ll camp out here with their long lenses just to get a glimpse of you.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

Romeo rubbed his chin. “You let Vincent play his game.”

“You told me you didn’t want me to visit him, didn’t want him getting in my head—”

“And he won’t. We knew he wasn’t going to let it go. If anything, it surprised me he took so long to draw you in, but now he has.”

“You could at least pretend to me concerned about me.”

“I’m not.”

“Thanks.”

Romeo moved the bottle away from Chad’s lunge.

“I’m not concerned because you’ve got a secret weapon.”

Chad stared at him blankly.

Romeo sighed. “Me, Chad. You’ve got me. I won’t let anything happen to you, but in the spectrum of grey, you’re bang in the middle. You flit between lighter and darker, but you need to step towards the dark to see this one clearly, to see it like I can. Vincent is setting you up to lose—”

“That much is obvious.”

Romeo set the bottle aside. “He’s setting you up to lose with the eyes of the country watching. He’s seen your weakness—he saw it when you visited about Tate.”

“What weakness?”

“Your need for a result, your need to prove yourself to the public, and he’s giving you what you want, a goal that seems achievable, but we both know he’s not going to tell you where Harriet is.”

“Then how do I win?”

Romeo reached for Chad’s shoulders, holding him in place. “By getting the result regardless.”