Heatwave by Oliver Davies (the red fox clan txt) 📗

I glanced over at Stephen, and he gave a shrug. This wasn’t helping much. I was longing for a cool, iced drink and getting back into the air-conditioned car, but more than that, I wanted answers.

“Did they have any distinctive features?” I tried. “Tattoos, piercings, birthmarks? Anything remarkable?”

“You’ll be asking for their ruddy eye colours next,” Roberts grumbled before he did pause to consider the question. “One of the lads, he had the blondest hair. Dyed, maybe, who knows what boys these days are doing. A lip ring, too, can you believe it?”

He muttered a slur under his breath that made me grimace, and Stephen drew in a breath beside me. If I’d been done with my questions and no longer needed the farmer’s help, I would’ve told him in no uncertain terms what I thought of language like that. But dealing with the arsonists was the more pressing matter, and this mention of a pale blond teenager with a lip ring had caught my attention, so I kept my expression polite.

“Really?” I said neutrally. “How tall was this boy? What kind of age?”

“I don’t know, taller than the others.” He shrugged. “Seventeen or eighteen. He seemed like the leader, bolshy, arrogant.” He looked back over at the remains of his barn. “In broad daylight!” he burst out with outrage back in his voice. “I can’t believe it, I really can’t.”

“Was there a younger boy with them, around fourteen?” I asked. Stephen gave me a sideways glance, but I focused on Roberts.

“Look, I didn’t get a damn good look at them while they were trying to raze my barn and bash my head in, did I?” he said, waving his arm.

“I know, sir, we-”

“There might’ve been a shorter lad, but there was a whole gang of them. You lot better get hold of them, d’you hear me? They can’t be getting away with this! They’ll be after my goddamn house next, and then where will I be?”

“We’ll do our best,” I assured him. “One last question, sir, then we’ll leave you in peace. Did you hear any of the group calling each other’s names? Or talking about anything that might help us identify them?”

“Names? No, lad, they were too busy causing mayhem, shouting rubbish at me, and flinging abuse at the cows. And I was giving as good as I got, o’course, so they damn well got an earful as well.”

“Alright, Mr Roberts, thanks for talking to us.”

“Just do your job, will you?” he said gruffly, but there was a pained look in his dark eyes when he met my gaze. I could hazard a fair guess that it was worry that was making him speak harshly and not any particular animosity towards me.

“We will,” I told him, and we stepped away. An officer who we hadn’t yet spoken to made a beeline for us, and I went to meet him in the middle.

“You asked who called you guys in?” he said. His hair was gingery-red, and he had a broad, friendly face. “That’d be me. I’m DI Young. Good to meet you.”

“And you,” I said, before gesturing at Stephen and myself, “DCI Mitchell and DI Huxley.”

“I’m glad you came. You see, I heard about the troubles in York, the fire that you guys had, right?”

“Aye, I’m surprised you heard, though,” I said honestly.

“Well, I keep my ear to the ground.” He grinned brightly. “I might want a spot at York one day, good to know these things, right? Anyway, I heard about your fire, and then Roberts called this in. Teenagers, like your fire. It’s a reach, I know-”

“A big reach,” Stephen agreed, and I turned to him in surprise. “But Mitchell here was thinking along the same lines, weren’t you, mate?”

DI Young looked pleased that we hadn’t dismissed his theory out of hand, and I suppressed a smile at the puppyish eagerness in his manner.

“Well,” I hedged, “I wouldn’t say that the fires were linked. There’s no evidence of that, in my opinion. But I did wonder if this might be connected to another case we’ve been involved in after Mr Roberts mentioned a teen that sounded very much like ours. But I don’t know, your district is a good distance from York. Teenagers are usually lazier than that, aren’t they? They stick to their own patch.”

“Maybe, maybe,” Young agreed, nodding, “but, you see, it’s not that far on the train. And the two kids we did catch aren’t local. We haven’t had a chance to talk to ‘em yet, but you can tell just by their accents, you know? Plus, I know most of the teens around here.”

“I know how it is,” I smiled, thinking of the small-town police station I’d come from. “Linked or not, it’d be good if we could talk to those two you’ve got in holding. If they’re not local, I suppose you haven’t got hold of their parents either?”

“You got it right there.” He sighed, pulling a face that said, ‘It is what it is.’ “But we’ll find ‘em, I’m sure. It’ll just take a few hours.”

Things were wrapping up over at the barn, the firefighters heading off now that they were convinced the fire was out and, once the fire engine had been moved, the police followed them out and emptied out the area.

“Follow behind me, okay?” DI Young told us. “We’re all heading back to the station now, and you can talk to the two lads we managed to get hold of.”

So we trailed the younger officer back towards the small town’s station, which reminded me strongly of Lockdale station, where I’d spent a large part of my career before coming to York. I’d had to move for my promotion then, and it’d changed my life significantly and, overall, for the better. But I hadn’t been leaving anyone behind then, and I didn’t know whether my relationship with Sam was yet strong enough to survive it.

“You alright, mate?” Stephen asked, glancing over at me. He was driving,