LOGINHARRISON'S POV There must have been another case conference sometime in mid-November. I searched for the minutes but found nothing. The police investigation had been suspended, yet the file itself remained open, as though someone wasn’t quite ready to let it go completely.The third file was different from the others. It was heavier, thicker, filled with legal documents, some of them neatly bound with ribbon. I recognized the format immediately. Social Services, convinced that Bobby was at risk, had moved to apply for a permanent care order. Once that decision had been made, the lawyers had stepped in and taken over.“What are you mumbling about?”I looked up. Mel had returned from her shopping, balancing two cups of coffee on top of a thick ledger. She set them down carefully on the desk.“Sorry I can’t offer you anything stronger,” she said with a faint smile. “Remember when we used to smuggle boxes of wine in here at Christmas?”I couldn’t help it, I smiled back. “I remember Boyd
HARRISON'S POV Mel had a clean desk with two piles of paperwork on either side in haphazard columns. Her computer was decorated with stickers, headlines and cartoons. One of them showed an armed robber pointing a gun and saying, "Your money or your life!" The victim replies, "I have no money and no life. I'm a social worker."We're on the third floor of the Social Services Department. Most of the offices were empty for the weekend.The view from Mel's window was of a half-built prefabricated warehouse. She had managed to get me three files, each held together by a loop of red tape. I had an hour before she got back from shopping.I know what to expect. The first rule of intelligent tinkering was to save all the parts. That's what the Social Services do. When they mess about with people's lives they make a careful note of every decision. There would be inter-views, family assessments, psych reports and medical notes.There would be minutes of every case conference and strategy meeting
HARRISON'S POV Social Services kept detailed files on children who had been sexually abused. There had been a time when I’d had full access to them, back when I was still part of the system. That privilege was long gone. Privacy laws saw to that.I needed help now, from someone I hadn’t seen in more than ten years.Her name was Melinda Cossimo, and I wasn’t entirely sure I would recognise her anymore.We arranged to meet in a coffee shop opposite the magistrates’ court.When I had first come to Liverpool, Mel had been a duty social worker. Now she was an area manager, though the modern title was “child protection specialist.” Not many people survived that long in Social Services. Most burned out. The rest exploded.Mel had once been a full-blown punk—spiked hair, ripped denim, distressed leather jackets. She thrived on challenging people, not necessarily because she disagreed, but because she wanted to see whether they could defend what they believed.She had grown up in Cornwall, li
RUBY'S POVA small bell chimed softly above my head as I stepped into the shop. The air was thick with layered scents, scented oils, perfumed candles, herbal mixtures, all curling together and settling into my lungs. Tall, narrow shelves of dark wood stretched from floor to ceiling, packed tightly with jars, soaps, incense sticks, oils, and bell jars containing everything from pumice stones to dried seaweed. This was where Jock had promised me that I would get information concerning Harrison's case with the Bobby guy. I want to know some of the truth for myself and hell him get through this hell. A large woman appeared from behind a partition.She wore a brightly colored kaftan that flowed from her throat and billowed outward over an ample frame. Strings of beads hung from her head, clicking together with each step she took.“Come, come, don’t be shy,” she said, waving me forward.This was Louise Elwood. I recognized her voice instantly from the phone, deep, low, and carrying easily
HARRISON'S POV It was just after six. Ruby would still be asleep. And I was sure Madison will be with her. I took out my mobile and switched it on, staring at its faint glow in the half-light. No messages. Nothing. That, I supposed, was part of my punishment, to think of her when I fell asleep and again the moment I woke.I sat on the windowsill and watched the sky slowly brighten.Pigeons wheeled and drifted above the rooftops, their shapes cutting through the pale morning. They reminded me of Varanasi, of vultures circling high above the funeral pyres, waiting patiently for the charred remains to be cast into the Ganges. Varanasi had been a miserable, broken place—crumbling buildings, hollow-eyed children, and very little beauty beyond the vivid saris and the graceful sway of the women who wore them. It had both repelled and fascinated me.Liverpool stirred the same conflicting feelings.I waited until seven before calling Ruby.A man answered.For a second, I thought I had dialle
HARRISON'S POV I didn’t remember leaving the Tramway.Eight pints—that much I knew. After that, everything blurred into fragments and gaps. The next clear sensation was the shock of cold air hitting my face, sharp enough to cut through the fog in my head. I found myself on my hands and knees, retching, emptying the contents of my stomach over broken rubble and cinders.The ground beneath me was uneven, gritty. A vacant lot—no, a makeshift car park for the pub. I could still hear the band inside, the muffled twang of guitars drifting through the night. They were playing cover about mothers not letting their children grow up to be cowboys.Fitting, somehow.I tried to stand, but before I could steady myself, something slammed into me from behind. I pitched forward, landing hard in an oily puddle. The stink of it filled my nostrils.Laughter.I looked up.The four teenagers from the bar stood over me, their shapes looming in the dim light.“Ya got any money?” the girl asked.“Piss off,”
HARRISON’S POVThe conference room in Grey & Carter Legal was exactly the kind of place people get contracts that will change their lives. Dark wooden panels lined the walls, the long table polished to a mirror finish. The blinds were half drawn against the afternoon sun, leaving the room washed in
RUBY’S POVThe screenshot stayed on my phone long after midnight. I must have stared at it for an hour or maybe two.My father standing beside Harrison’s private jet, the timestamp glared at me like an accusation.My chest felt tight as I walked down the quiet hallway of the mansion, the soft glow
RUBY’S POVI didn’t sleep. Not even for a minute.The folded paper stayed in my hand long after Harrison had left the room. The words burned into my eyes like they had been carved into the page instead of written.My fingers trembled as I read the sentence again. Someone knew I was pregnant, but th
RUBY’S POVFor a moment, neither of us spoke. The air in Harrison’s bedroom suddenly felt too thick to breathe.My eyes stayed glued to the phone in his hand. To the photograph.My stomach twisted violently, it was unmistakably me. Curled slightly on the bed.The silk sheets tangled around my legs.







