Just Keep Breathing by GS Rhodes (good books to read for 12 year olds .txt) 📕

out details, features, anything that might give the person away as being Craig but it was so blurry. But it had to be him, hadn’t it? His sister had sent the picture over, so she must have thought the same.

Craig Peyton was alive.

Maybe.

Possibly.

He had to be.

He looked at the picture again, very quickly losing his resolve. It could be anyone. He could feel the disappointment filling his chest like a balloon. For a moment, it had felt so certain. At first glance he was sure it was him and maybe it was, but he couldn’t be sure.

He opened a reply to Andrea.

Dear Andrea,

Thank you so much for getting in touch I’m—

Kidd’s phone started ringing and he answered it without looking.

“Hello?”

“Kidd!” DCI Weaver barked, his Scottish accent coming through hard enough to make Kidd nearly jump out of his skin.

Shit, he thought. I should have checked who was calling first.

“Yes, boss?” he replied, running a hand through his hair. How could he have been so stupid?

“I’ve been trying to get you all night, where have you been?”

“I was having dinner at my sister’s tonight,” Kidd replied. He could see his boss’s face in his mind, the brick of a man breathing heavy, absolutely panting about it. “Is something the matter?”

“You could say that,” DCI Weaver said. “Have you checked my messages?

“No, sir,” Kidd said. “I was going to check them in the morning, or when I got to work perhaps.”

Kidd could hear DCI Weaver nodding down the phone. He was pacing, he could hear the swishing of whatever material he was wearing. He took a heavy breath, distorting the receiver.

“Well, I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow then,” DCI Weaver said.

DI Kidd stood up, joining DCI Weaver in pacing. “Sir, you’ve got me now, tell me what’s going on.”

DCI Weaver let out a heavy sigh again. Whatever it was, there was no way that it could be worse than dealing with The Grinning Murders again. At least that’s what DI Kidd told himself. It couldn’t be, could it?

CHAPTER FIVE

Kingston Police Station looked ominous that morning. Clouds were circling overhead, and Kidd didn’t want to walk inside, knowing exactly what it was that awaited him. It might not have felt as bad as The Grinning Murders, though when it came to crime there wasn’t really a sliding scale, but this time someone’s life was on the line. And having that weighing on your conscience is always quite a cross to bear.

After talking to DCI Weaver, Ben had finished his message to Andrea before trying to get some shut-eye. It hadn’t come easy. His brain had been awake, already trying to figure out what he needed to do the following morning to get a jump on this. He’d even tried running that morning, down through town, along the riverside, attempting to clear his head as he pounded the pavement but it didn’t happen. There were two images in his head. Craig Peyton and the girl who had gone missing.

“Good morning, DI Kidd,” Diane chirped from behind the front desk. Her eyes twinkled at him as she smiled, her dark hair pulled into a tight bun, everything about her welcoming him as she had done for pretty much every day of his career, an endlessly joyful human who was always there to help anybody in their time of need. “How was your evening?”

Kidd laughed a little. “Something of a rollercoaster,” he said. “Never a dull moment. How about you?”

“Fine, fine, fine,” she said. “Nothing out of the ordinary!”

“Ha!” Kidd barked. “Diane, you’re making me jealous.”

“Hardly, dear!”

“Oh, Diane, I would kill for a bit of ordinary,” Kidd said.

She tutted at him and shook her head. “You wouldn’t have a clue what to do with yourself.”

Kidd buzzed himself through the door and started down the same maze of familiar corridors he’d walked for most of his life. When he stepped inside the Incident Room, he was quickly greeted by three pairs of eyes before they switched back to what they’d been doing when he’d entered.

DC Simon Powell was sitting on DC Janya Ravel’s desk, the two of them talking animatedly about something as Kidd approached. DC Powell was a child, at least as far as Kidd was concerned, fair-skinned, fair-haired, and a little chubby. He was also sinfully clumsy and Kidd was counting down the days before it cost them something in a case. DC Ravel was quite the opposite of Powell. She was self-assured, pretty straight-laced, and knew exactly what she was doing most of the time, which made Kidd’s life a heck of a lot easier.

“Morning,”

“Morning, boss,” they chorused.

“We’ve got a case, I want you ready for briefing in—” He looked at the two of them, quickly realising he was missing something. “Where’s DC Campbell?”

“Out, sir,” DC Ravel said. “Went to get breakfast.”

“Christ,” Kidd replied. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

DC Ravel checked her watch. “Shouldn’t be too long, sir, but you know what he’s like.”

Ben knew exactly what he was like, so he left them to it. He would brief them when he got back. Apart from this, Weaver wasn’t there yet with the information. So long as Campbell was back in time, he might save himself a bollocking from the boss.

DS Sanchez was at her chaotic desk, papers piled up left and right, enough coffee cups to cover half of Brighton Beach. She nodded at Kidd as he walked past, but something in him caught her eye that morning, maybe it was the expression on his face, or the bags weighing heavily under his eyes. Whatever it was, it made her rise from her desk and follow Kidd over to his.

“What’s up?” she asked, concern spreading across her face. “What the hell happened after I left you? You didn’t get beaten up by some thug again, did you?”

“No, nothing like that,” Kidd said sitting down in his chair and leaning back.

“Then what?” Zoe asked, entirely puzzled. She pulled the chair over from her own desk and sat