Into the Night: Inspector Rykel Book 2 (Amsterdam Quartet) by Jake Woodhouse

stopping it?’
    You’d think I was responsible for this
, thought Jaap.
    ‘I’m pursuing several lines of enquiry,’ he said, knowing that was going to piss Smit off, but beyond caring.
    It was a couple of hours since he’d stood in the playground, holding the receipts and realizing that he’d put the victim in prison years before.
    The receipts could just be a coincidence.
    But with the photo on Koopman’s phone as well?
he thought.
That’s one too many.
    ‘That’s the line
I
give to the press. I want something more concrete,’ snapped back Smit.
    ‘Well I haven’t got anything, yet. And I’m just about to interview someone so I’ll get back to you.’
    Jaap stabbed the end call button, wishing it was Smit’s eye.
    ‘That went well.’
    He was down in Computer Crimes, talking to Roemers, the head of the unit.
    ‘The man’s an asshole.’
    ‘True. And there’s a good chance he may walk through those doors at any moment.’
    ‘I didn’t think he liked it down here?’
    ‘He doesn’t. But with most of my crew working on Tanya’s thing he’s been keeping an eye on us all afternoon. Seems particularly keen to get a result.’
    Tanya had left the houseboat for work early that morning, saying she’d been roped into a drugs raid. She was hoping it’d be over quickly so she could meet her friends at midday. They’d said goodbye, Jaap still only half awake. Then he’d rolled over to her side of the bed, still warm and smelling of her, and fallen back asleep.
    ‘She still here?’
    ‘She was about twenty minutes ago.’
    She really needed that break
, thought Jaap.
She’s going to be gutted.
    ‘You’re not here just for my company,’ prompted Roemers when Jaap hadn’t said anything for a few moments.
    ‘Yeah, right. I need you to hack that Twitter account – can you do that?’
    ‘Frits already asked me that.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘I told him that the question really is, am I allowed to do that?’
    ‘Don’t tell me you need—’
    ‘—written authorization. Exactly. Like the song says, “fuck the law”.’
    Jaap didn’t know the song, but then Roemers looked like he was into weird music.
    Jaap stared at the screen, the tweet taunting him.
    More to come?
    I don’t have time for form-filling
, thought Jaap.
    ‘The thing is,’ said Roemers, picking up on Jaap’s frustration and shifting forward in his seat. ‘I know someone who isn’t restricted by our very high moral sense. Do you want me to ask him?’
    ‘How long do you think it will take?’
    ‘Hard to say – could be a few hours, could be days – but the sooner he gets going …’
    ‘The minute you hear anything—’
    ‘Got it,’ replied Roemers, who’d already turned to his screen, fingers scuttling over the keyboard. ‘Just setting him off on it now.’
    ‘I’m assuming you can do this though?’ Jaap dropped the second victim’s phone on his desk. ‘It’s locked.’
    ‘In my sleep, baby.’
    ‘I’m sure it’s off contract, just like the first one, but check it anyway. And once you’ve got it unlocked cross-ref the call lists in both phones, I want to see what comes up. How long’s it going to take to crack?’
    Should be about twenty minutes or so. You want to wait?’
    ‘Just call me,’ said Jaap as he stepped out the door. He toyed with going to his desk – he needed to get a start on the initial report, and he wanted to check up on when Teeven had actually been released – but figured the risk of bumping into Smit too great, so he left the station.
    Outside the sun was just dipping towards the row of houses to the west. The buildings on the opposite side of the canal were still illuminated, their windows polished gold.
    He started walking, trying to think about the victims. Two people, one who had a photo of him and a gun under his bed, the other he’d put away for murder.
    The case had been controversial, the dropout daughter of a right-wing politician had been found raped and strangled. The media