Debt Collector / Season 1, Episode 6
Rainy Reckoning on Cutler
The rain hit Cutler Street like a boxer working a bag, each drop a sharp jab against the cracked tarmac. Arthur Neave stood under the overhang of a shuttered pawn shop, collar turned up against the damp chill that crept through his coat. The sodium glow of a streetlamp painted his face in sickly yellow, catching the hard lines around his eyes as he scanned the empty road. His breath fogged in the cold, a faint rhythm against the steady hiss of water on concrete. The weight of the night pressed down—3:42 a.m., according to the cracked watch on his wrist. Terry was late. He shifted his weight, the ache in his left knee flaring briefly as he adjusted his stance. The street smelled of wet asphalt and stale chip fat from the takeaway two doors down, its neon sign flickering erratically in the dark. Arthur’s fingers flexed inside his coat pocket, brushing the edge of his phone. No new messages. No excuses. Just silence from a man who’d promised answers about Jamie—answers Arthur had waited long enough to hear. His son was still in a cell, the fraud charge hanging over him like a guillotine blade, and every hour that passed sharpened the edge. Terry had dangled a name on Lambeth Bridge, a whisper of who’d framed Jamie, but...