Heatwave by Oliver Davies (read any book .txt) 📕

We were clustered around my desk, with Keira leaning her hip against the table and looking uncharacteristically tired. Work really had been putting her through the wringer recently with all the extra hours I knew she’d been clocking.

“We didn’t tell him we knew about it, did we?” I said, certain that we hadn’t. “Adams, you don’t think they could’ve seen you snooping? Realised that you’d found the site or something?”

“Please give me some credit.” She looked close to rolling her eyes at me. “I didn’t leave a digital trace that some teenager could pick up, Mitchell. If they found out about the site, it was from something you two did.”

“Jeez, thanks.”

“Mickey could’ve told them,” Stephen offered.

“We didn’t even know about the site when we spoke to him, though.”

“Yeah, but he knew we wanted to know about it, and badly. He could’ve made the connection when we turned up for this fire so fast.”

“We weren’t here when it was set alight. We could’ve just heard about the fire on the radio.”

“Sure, but we would’ve made the connection between the teens and the fire pretty fast, wouldn’t we?”

“You really think that they could’ve figured that out from that information alone?” I said, doubtful.

“I’ll leave you two to bicker- I mean, debate your opinions,” Keira said dryly.

“Wait, Adams. You’ll look for the new site they’re on, right? We really need-”

“Yes, I know. It’s absolutely crucial, urgent, top priority, cannot be delayed. Just like every other task I get sent.” She turned and left before I could respond, and I frowned after her.

“She’s not usually that blunt with me.”

“She’s stressed.” Stephen pulled a sympathetic face. “Her workload’s been heavy, and I think she’s got some issues with her brother. He’s struggling to get a job, and she wants him to move out, something like that.”

We’d dealt with Keira’s brother during a previous case relatively recently when he’d become embroiled in a blackmail scheme. Both of us had barely escaped being pulled to our deaths in the river when he tried to escape me running after him. It was safe to say that I wasn’t best fond of the guy, even though I had some sympathy for the impossible position he’d been put in.

“How d'you know that?”

“I have my sources for gossip,” he said, giving me a sideways grin.

“Of course you do.” I shook my head. “I hope she can find time to help us, though, because, without that site, we’re running around blind.”

“I don’t know about that. We found out plenty before Adams dug that up for us.”

“True,” I conceded. “It would still be hugely helpful.”

“If you’re still set on believing that Mickey’s on our side, try calling him?”

“He wouldn’t give us the site address last time,” I said. “He drew a line at that, for whatever reason.”

Stephen gave me a pointed look. “Because he knew it’d be too valuable information.”

“Alright, alright, so you don’t trust him, and I do, or I trust him enough to believe that he’s not playing both sides, anyway. I don’t think he’s the type to do that.”

“Try calling him, then.”

“And what’re you going to do?”

“What d’you want me to do?” he tossed back, raising an eyebrow at me in challenge. I couldn’t help but smile. I liked having a work partner who pushed back against me, even if he did drive me up the wall sometimes.

“Chase up that patch delivery. See when they’re gonna be delivered, so we can keep a watch, okay?”

“Will do.”

I fetched myself a fresh cup of coffee before I sat down again to call Mickey. Stephen had had to needle me into doing it because I didn’t want to pressure the kid. He was a big asset at this point, especially now we’d lost the messaging site, and I didn’t want to drive him away by chasing him for information. But Stephen was right that if the kid was on our side, he should be willing to help, or that’s what I was hoping for.

It was early enough in the day still that the station windows could still be open, the air outside cooler than it was inside. The breeze felt good as it passed by me, and I relished it while it lasted. The forecasts had predicted at least another couple of weeks of the heatwave, and whilst picnickers and families on their British summer holidays were relishing it, I was worried. With more fires popping up, no rain in sight was troubling, and I felt the pressure to get on top of this before one of these fires got out of control.

I put a call through to the mobile number we had linked to Mickey’s name. It rang and rang, and Stephen gave me an ‘I told you so’ look when I sighed and put the phone down for a second time.

“I’ll try his home phone,” I said, reading Stephen’s scepticism in his silence.

His mum picked up the landline after a few rings and told me that Mickey wasn’t home. She sounded upset and on edge and explained that she’d grounded him, but he’d snuck out the window and climbed down the garage roof.

“He’s never behaved like this before,” she said plaintively. “Am I a bad mother? Have I failed him?”

Trying to comfort a frightened parent really wasn’t what I needed to be doing this morning, but my heart hurt for her and I did my best.

“Please give us a call, or text my work number, when he’s home, okay?” I asked when she seemed to have calmed a little. “I’d like to know that he’s back safe, at the least, and it’d be good to have a word with him.”

She agreed to let me know, and I put the phone down, feeling worn out by the conversation. I could admit to myself, if not Mickey’s mum, that I was worried for the kid. He’d given us information, even though it was only a small amount, and I couldn’t help but be slightly concerned that one of the gang