39
Frank was starting to become seriously cheesed off with this job. He’d joined all those years ago to nab big-time criminals, not to trundle off backwards and forwards to paedophiles’ flats to see how strong their wifi connection was.
The force had changed over the past few years, and that change had accelerated more recently with the guv being put on leave and pretty boy Malcolm Pope being put in charge of the team. Not that they’d seen hide nor hair of him, other than the odd time he felt he needed to come down and throw his weight around. Frank suspected Pope had bigger things up his sleeve. Probably too busy organising Mildenheath’s closure and shipping everyone up to Milton House.
Frank wouldn’t be going to Milton House if they moved. He’d told himself that much a long time ago.
