Page 37 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
Kit’s elbow jabbed sharply into my ribs. “Be quiet, and donotstare as we walk past,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
Wecontinued our path, trying to look casual while my mind raced. They were clearing out. This couldn’t be a coincidence.
As we passed the entrance to the car park, one of the men—a burly bloke with a shaved head—lost his grip on a box. It hit the ground with a crash, spilling what looked like computer cables and wires across the pavement.
“Fuck’s sake!” he growled, bending down.
Before Kit could stop me, I darted over, my hands already reaching for the scattered cables.
I heard Kit groan behind me, but ignored him. This was too perfect an opportunity.
“Need a hand, mate?” I asked cheerfully, gathering up a tangle of wires.
The man gave me an awkward look, somewhere between suspicious and grateful. “Thanks,” he muttered.
I bundled the cables together, deliberately taking my time. “What’s going on here, then? I walk by this centre every day. Has it shut down?”
He stared at me, his expression closing off. “No clue. I’m just paid to move things from A to B.” He reached out for a wire still clutched in my hand, clearly wanting me gone.
I handed it back with a friendly smile. “Right, of course. Cheers.”
Returning to Kit, I found him glowering at me, arms crossed and jaw tight with barely contained fury.
“What? He needed help!” I protested weakly.
My heart continued to thunder against my ribs as we continued past Meridian.
“They’re clearing out. Fuck, Kit, they’reclearing out!”
“I can see that,” Kit muttered, steering us toward a small coffee shop across the street. “Let’s sit here for a minute.”
Once we’d ordered—both black coffees, though a single spoonful of sugar was pretty tempting—I leaned across the table, unable to contain myself.
“What if Maxwell triggered this? He might have been looking into Meridian yesterday. What if he pulled something up on the police system that set off some kind of alert?”
Kit frowned, sipping his coffee. “I suppose that’s possible.”
“Or…” I chewed my lip, mind racing. “What if Bradley and Brody haven’t actually cut ties with them? Maybe they warned Meridian about Maxwell’s questions last night.”
“But moving vans on a Saturday morning? That’s quick work.”
I drummed my fingers on the table. “Not if they were already planning to move. Maybe they’ve been preparing for this, just waiting for a sign they’d been compromised.”
“Or maybe they’re just relocating offices and it has nothing to do with us,” Kit said, ever the voice of reason.
“On the same weekend Maxwell starts investigating them? After eighteen months of nothing?” I shook my head. “That’s one hell of a coincidence.”
Kit’s eyes narrowed in thought. “If they’re moving because of Maxwell’s inquiries, it means they have someone inside the police system, or some way of monitoring police searches.”
I pulled out my phone, tapping on the contact listed as Detective Dickface.
He answered on the third ring.
“Rory?”
“Don’t sound so pleased.”
“I told you I’d be in contact this afternoon.”
