19. Tactical Avoidance

NINETEEN

TACTICAL AVOIDANCE

“Piss off,” he said, as his alarm went off that morning.Coffee cup clutched between his hands, he finally pressed ‘send’ on the email to the Inspector. Then the panic set in. He thought about retracting the email, and had to physically slap his own hand as it drifted towards the ‘undo’ button. No . This was good. This was a step forward. Despite all the chaos in his life, he could do this for himself. And for Alfie.

“Alright, Dai?” Rhys said the following afternoon. He jogged across the mats with Mathilda propped on his hip. Oliver pulled a silly face at the girl, but quickly dropped his eyes when he spotted Lucas sparring across the other side of the hall. “We’re doing a round of tag fights with the newbies, you in?”

Oliver wrapped his hands as he glanced towards the growing crowd, frowning at how the younger members gathered around Lucas in excited anticipation.

“Nah,” he shrugged, pulling on his gloves. “Just pad work today.”

Rhys coughed. “What? But you and Luke love beating the shit out of each other.”

“Beat the shit, beat the SHIT!” Matilda chanted at the top of her lungs. Sammy flicked his head up, tutting loudly from across the training hall.

Rhys grimaced as he kissed his daughter's cheek. “I said meet the ship, honeybunch.” Then mouthed ‘sorry’ in Sammy’s direction. “Can’t say anything without these two repeating it. I almost miss the days when they couldn’t talk.” Oliver gave a humourless laugh as he turned towards the pads. “Oi,” Rhys said, grabbing his elbow. “What's got its teeth in you, Ollie? I’ve never seen you so down in the dumps.”

“Nothing,” he replied, yanking his arm away. “I’ve just had a busy few days.”

Rhys pouted, readjusting Matilda on his hip. “Nothing a few rounds of tag sparring couldn’t sort, right?” Because if only a few rounds of tag sparring could fix the mess he’d made.

They met again at the water dispenser the following morning. He and Lucas had, unfortunately, crossed paths in the corridor—both with empty bottles in their hands. Oliver could have turned back, but the oncoming tidal wave of police cadets would have made the avoidance even more obvious. So, they waited in awkward silence whilst Nancy filled her obnoxiously large pink container and chatted away.

Lucas’ breath was warm across the back of his head—the close proximity hadn’t been intentional, but the fifteen over-eager police cadets took up so much fucking space that he and the alpha found themselves shoved into the corner.

“ And then the bloke from CSI said they were too busy to process my swabs, and that I’d have to wait until next week!” Nancy said, completely oblivious to the tension.

Oliver hadn’t told her. In fact, he’d been avoiding all mention of the six foot five alpha like the fucking plague.

“I mean… what the fuck are they even doing in there?” Nancy continued. “Last time I went into the lab they were gathered around the sergeant’s desk playing poker.”

Oliver nodded, but was more focused on Lucas’ scent, and the way it made his skin tingle. “Reed—” Lucas whispered, his fingers brushing the back of his hand.

“Oh bollocks!” one of the police cadets shrieked as she turned her police issue bowler hat upside down. “Which one of you fuckers drew a cock on the back of my hat? Parade’s in ten minutes!”

Oliver used the distraction to slip away from the group and back down the corridor. Thankfully, the alpha didn’t follow.

A further two days went by, and they’d managed to skirt around one another with varying degrees of success. The ache in Oliver’s chest wasn’t subsiding, and he found himself staring into nothing as he sat alone in his flat at night. He’d washed the towels, emptied the fridge, and gathered the few items that belonged to the alpha into a neat little pile in the living room. He could not, however, bring himself to wash the bedsheets.

Since submitting the report it’d been radio silence from the Inspector, and at one point Oliver checked his outbox to see if the email had actually sent. It had, but still nothing. He tried to keep himself busy, but as the days ticked away the aching in his chest grew more and more unbearable. Seeing Lucas everyday physically hurt, and it didn’t help that the investigation had reached a stalemate, with most of their recent enquiries leading to more questions than answers.

However, as he walked into the briefing room that morning, something was different. The atmosphere was palpable, with rapid chatter pinging around the room. The Crown Court had authorised a search warrant on the property opposite the swimming pool, so everyone was excited that finally, finally , they might start making progress again. Oliver glanced around the room to find that there was no sign of the Inspector, Lucas or Blake, which was never a good sign.

“Hey soldier,” Nancy said, noticeable bags under her eyes. Oliver gave a soft smile and poured her a cup of coffee.

“Morning.”

“Is it? Shit, these late nights are really throwing me off.”

Oliver chuckled. “Don’t worry, you’ll be tucked up in bed with whats-her-face before you know it.”

The beta blushed, stifling a yawn. “Hannah.”

Oliver couldn’t help but grin, because it seemed he’d missed all the recent updates in the saga of Nancy and Special Branch officer Hannah Whitmore. When Nancy had alluded to having her eye on someone at the Cock & Bull, he had no idea that she’d been referring to the six foot two blonde bombshell alpha. Even he had to admit that Nancy’d done well for herself.

“She’s amazing,” the beta said, staring wistfully into her cup. “Such a talented tongue.”

Oliver let out a sharp breath. “Okay, Nance. I need to be considerably more drunk before entertaining this conversation.”

“Oh, come on, Ollie. I’m sure you’ve got some juicy tales of your own. After all, we all know you’re shacked up with the sergeant.” Then she winked at him, and Oliver waved a hand before clamping it across her mouth.

“Shut the fuck up, would you?”

“Wha—” Nancy said, pulling his hand away. “It’s true isn’t it? Police officers shagging each other isn’t exactly a new concept.”

Oliver flushed and kept his voice low. “Well…I…we…I may have accidentally called it off.”

Nancy scoffed. “What? Why?”

“Because I’m a twat.”

“Does he know that?”

“That I’m a twat? Most definitely.”

“No, you idiot. That you called it off.”

“Yes, obviously. He was there when I made a tit of myself.”

“You sure?”

“Yes Nance, what’re you?—“

“Then explain why he’s staring at you like a piece of prime cut beef,” she said, pointing from behind a stack of papers. He followed the direction of her finger, eyes falling on Lucas as he stood next to the door. And he was, for all intents and purposes, staring at him like a piece of prime cut beef. He raised a brow over one tired eye, and Oliver quickly glanced away.

“You see?” Nancy said, grinning into her mug.

“Oh piss off, it’s complicated.”

“Is it? Or are you just making it complicated, like you always do?”

Oliver scowled as he plucked two chocolate digestives from an open packet next to the kettle. He’d already consumed a full packet of Hobnobs and four slices of toast that morning—the comfort eating well and truly getting the better of him. He wanted to eat the granola Lucas made, but reasoned it’d be pretty fucking rude to eat something made by the man he’d unceremoniously dumped. So, biscuits and toast it would be for the foreseeable future.

“Right, you lot, listen in!” Blake called from the front of the briefing room. “The surveillance team has carried out initial checks and report multiple comings and goings from the property in Tintern-on-Wye. The purpose of today’s warrant is to get in, recover any known or suspected victims, record everyone present, seize any contraband, and make arrests where necessary. You don’t need me to tell you how to do your jobs. You’re all detectives, and you all know why we’re here. Questions?”

When no one raised a hand, Lucas stepped up. He looked exhausted, and Oliver’s gut twisted as he stared at the dark circles under his eyes. He wanted to go up to him, punch him in the ribs and tell him to get to bed.

“Distribution as follows,” he said, tone flat. “Myself, Henderson, Khan, Frankton, Williams, Heston, Davis, strike team. Clarke, Purslow, Wilkins, O’Neill, prisoner handling.” Then he read out a few more names before finally reaching Oliver. “Reed—” he said, glancing up, “Exhibits officer.”

Of course. Of fucking course Lucas was making him the contraband bitch.

Nancy sucked a breath between her teeth. “Gutted for you, pal.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, looking down at the table.

“Try not to get yourself assaulted this time. I know those evidence bags can be fucking brutal.” She smirked.

“You were assaulted, too. If memory serves, you nearly had your teeth knocked out.”

She smiled and stuck out her tongue. “All present and correct, thank you very much. Enjoy sitting in the van.”

“Enjoy being arse deep in prisoners.”

“Eh, I’d take prisoners over contraband any day.”

“Any questions?” Lucas said, cutting across their conversation. Oliver had a question, but he was loath to ask it when things were so tense between him and the alpha. But, needs must, so he reluctantly raised a hand. Lucas looked momentarily taken aback, but quickly composed himself. “Yes… DC Reed?”

Clearing his throat, Oliver said, “If I’m the exhibits officer, who’s managing the children? If, of course, we come across any children? Surely they’ll need taking into police protection?”

Everyone looked back at Lucas. He nodded. “The remaining child protection officers have kindly agreed to assist.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes. He was not happy about Matteus being put on the front line. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, DS White? Given the current…state…of the CP Unit?”

Lucas’ eyes softened. “The CP Unit will stay behind until they receive further instructions.” No one from child protection will be actively attending the scene.”

Oliver let out a long breath and nodded. “Thank you,” he said, giving Lucas a small smile—which to his surprise, was returned.

Nancy tapped his elbow. “Are you sure you guys have broken up?”

“If there are no further questions,” Lucas continued. “Kit-up and meet in the car park in fifteen minutes. Everyone is to double-glove as the property may very well become a scene.”

With that, everyone rose to their feet, and Oliver followed suit with a long sigh. He desperately wanted to clear the air with Lucas, and to apologise for his stupidity, but as he cautiously approached, Lucas was drawn into conversation with another Special Branch officer. He thought about butting in and pulling him to one side, but what right did he have after his behaviour? Instead, he turned and walked towards the door.

Opening it, he came face to face with a very grumpy looking Matteus. “Finally,” he said, pushing himself up from against the wall. Matteus had been uncharacteristically quiet since the incident at the foster home. Oliver had expected to receive a verbal lashing for his shitty behaviour, but the only thing he’d received from his brother was the cold shoulder. However, he knew Matteus had been checking in on him because—for two evenings in a row—he returned home to find another tray of cottage pie on his doorstep.

“Matty?” Oliver said, staring down at the omega. “Why are you here? We haven’t even left yet.”

“I can see that,” Matteus said, grabbing his elbow.

Oliver scoffed. “I don’t have time to chat. I need to get my kit.”

“Then I’ll walk with you,” he replied, following Oliver down the corridor.

“You shouldn’t have come in. You need to rest.”

“Oliver, I’m pregnant, not terminally ill.”

“You won’t be saying that when you’re nodding off at your desk later. What if you’re kept on late?”

Matteus tutted as they descended the stairs to the locker room. “Wow. You sound remarkably concerned for someone who doesn’t need me.”

Oliver stopped abruptly, causing Matteus to smack into his back. “What?” He said, catching his brother’s shoulder. Matteus huffed and continued down the stairs.

“Lucas told me what you said. We talk, you know.”

Scowling, Oliver held open the door to the basement locker room. “I’m not sure how I feel about the two of you talking about me behind my back.”

“Probably the same way I feel when you and Julian talk about me.”

“We do not!”

“Yes, you do. I’ve seen the messages. And the answer is no , by the way, I do not want a baby shower.”

Oliver frowned. “It was a surprise.”

“Yes, well, do you know what else was a surprise?”

The stench of stale sweat and damp clothes was ever present as they walked between the tightly packed metal lockers. Oliver’s was unfortunately right at the end.

“It was surprising to receive a phone call from Lucas that night. When the two of you left, I thought you’d go straight home, have some angry, possessive sex, and then give each other the bite. But then he calls me from his car and tells me you fucking dumped him. I mean, what the hell , dude?”

Oliver sighed and wrenched open his locker. “It’s…you don’t…I just don’t want to cause anymore issues for him.”

“By lying to him?”

“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell him who Patrick was.”

“And what was your plan, Ollie? He was always going to find out.”

“Not necessarily. I thought… well, I thought if I could just get the diffusion day done, then I wouldn’t have to see him again and I could just move on with my life. We deal with people we don’t like every day. I thought Patrick would just be another one.”

“Except he’s not, is he? He’s the fucking psycho that nearly ruined your life, not to mention?—”

The pregnancy . Matteus wanted to say the pregnancy, but it had become a taboo subject between them. Oliver pulled on his stab vest, rolling his shoulders as the teflon plates shifted into place. Turning to his brother, he placed his hands on his shoulders. “It’s okay, Matty. We can talk about it. Fuck knows, I’ve told enough people recently.”

Matteus huffed, his eyes turning glassy. “I know. And, I just wanted to say that it was a really brave thing you did. Writing that report.”

Oliver tilted his head. “How do you know about the report?” Matteus flushed, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“When I arrived this morning, there was no one else around. The Inspector’s door was open and I could hear Lucas and DS Smith talking about Patrick. I kinda…maybe…eavesdropped for a while.”

“Matty—”

“I know, I know. Terrible of me. But they were talking about Patrick’s history and all the?—”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Yes, Ollie. Yes, you do. They were saying how, in the last six years, he’s drifted around from county to county, taking up different local authority positions.”

Oliver huffed, zipping up his vest. “That’s not unusual. Loads of social workers get sent to the highest demand areas. I mean, look at Shirley Spencer, didn’t she say she’d been through nine different local authorities before settling in West Newton?”

“Yeah, I know, but Shirley probably didn’t wrack up a shopping list of domestic abuse reports wherever she went.”

“What?”

“After you, it looks like he didn’t stop. He just kept going from omega to omega.”

“But… wasn’t he married with kids at some point? His name was Danny-something?”

“Danny Delahey. Yeah. But it sounds like ‘Danny’ was just as fucking shady as Patrick. He’s in an omega prison, Ollie. They probably only married so Patrick couldn’t be compelled to give evidence against him. Both of Patrick’s kids are in care.”

Oliver’s mouth hung open as he clipped his utility belt into place. He’d known Patrick moved on pretty much immediately, but a husband in prison and two kids in care? Shit , he was beginning to realise that the universe had done him a huge fucking favour.

“Then how the hell is he still a social worker?”

Matteus shrugged. “Christ knows. Something, somewhere, clearly slipped through the net. You know how it is, everyone’s so overworked. There was probably an administrator that forgot to click a button or something.”

“Maybe, but come on , that’s a pretty big mistake to make.”

“I know, but… don’t you see, Ollie? Everyone’s trying to protect you. Me, Lucas, Blake, the Inspector. I mean, shit , even the DCI and Superintendent have gotten involved. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Oliver’s lip began to tremble, and he had to blink several times to chase the tears away. “I don’t… I wasn’t… I know I’m not alone, Matty. I was in a really bad place the other night. Patrick, he—you know he knows how to push my buttons. And I was really, really, horrible to Lucas.”

Matteus sighed and cupped Oliver’s face. “I know. He was really worried about you. Don’t be mad, but he came round ours for a cup of tea and some lemon drizzle before his shift. I told him to give you some space and to talk things through when the dust settled.”

Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, Oliver said, “Dear God, Matty, you really are just the best of friends, aren’t you?”

Matteus chuckled. “Not yet, but I think he and Julie will get on like a house on fire.”

“I doubt it,” Oliver replied. “He said Julian was posturing up a storm when they met.”

“W-Well, yeah, that’s true,” Matteus said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I think he’s realised just how much Lucas cares about you, how much he fucking loves you, Ollie. Have you even said that to each other yet?”

Oliver sniffed and looked up at the ceiling. “He said it to me. But then?—”

But then he called him an idiot and ran away.

Matteus let out a loud squeal and jumped on the spot. “And you? Have you said it?”

“No.”

“For fuck’s sake, Ollie. Pull your finger out!”

Oliver growled and threw a hand over Matteus’ mouth. “Keep your voice down. Anyone could hear.”

Matteus cocked a brow and pulled his hand away. “But, do you love him, Ollie?”

He swallowed, sadness pinching his expression—because it didn’t matter, did it? He couldn’t take back what he’d said, and Lucas would likely never forgive him. Not that he deserved forgiveness. So, clipping his baton into place, he cleared his throat and said, “I’ll see you on the other side.”