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

looked through the options. There seemed to be a lot of options to order custom patches online, and I rested my elbow on the desk and put my chin in my hand as I considered the various websites. It would be much harder to track purchases that had happened online as opposed to in a physical shop, which might have CCTV and where they’d have to interact with staff. I’d have to put Keira on the case and see if she could dig anything up for us. We could really do with one of the patches themselves to see whether they had any brand mark on them. Perhaps, I thought, Mickey might be able to help with that too or would know where we could get hold of one.

I occupied myself with writing up a list of contact details for the websites that’d come up online so that, if Mickey didn’t know where the group had bought them, I could start calling around. It most likely wouldn’t turn up anything, but I was willing to give it a shot on the off-chance that it turned out to be a usable lead.

Not long later, I received a call from reception to let me know that Mickey White and his mother were downstairs waiting for me. I headed down the stairs and found Mickey hiding nervousness behind a frown and his mother openly fretting.

“DCI Mitchell,” I said and went over to shake Ms White’s hand. “Thank you for coming in.”

A plainclothes officer lingered by reception, and she gave me a nod when she saw me appear. She’d been the one to bring them both in, then, and she headed off as I showed Mickey and his mum towards an interview room. I would’ve preferred to talk to Mickey on his own, but he was fifteen, and he needed a parent or guardian to be with us while I talked to him.

“Mickey told me what happened,” Ms White started as soon as we’d sat down. “He didn’t mean it, he-”

“Ms White-”

“Donna, please.”

“Okay, Donna, we’ll talk about Mickey’s actions soon, but I need to set up the recording equipment first, alright?”

She gave a small nod. Mickey kept his head down and refused to meet my eyes or his mother’s.

I introduced myself to the recording equipment and got Mickey and his mum to do the same. It felt strange to be doing this without Stephen at my side, but time was of the essence.

“Alright,” I said, taking a sip of my water before I went on. “Mickey, I’ve got some questions regarding the group of teenagers you were with on the night in question, and depending on how helpful you are to the police will determine how severe the consequences of your actions are, is that clear?”

Mickey’s mother gave her son a nudge in the side when he didn’t say anything.

“Yes,” he said.

“Good.”

He wasn’t looking particularly keen to cooperate, still, and I wasn’t sure whether coaxing or scaring him would work better, so I’d try both. Flatly, I laid out exactly what would happen if he chose not to answer our questions and what punishments he could expect to face for trespassing, property damage, burglary, and terrorising the home’s inhabitants to the point where one of them ended up in hospital.

“But that wasn’t me!” Mickey said, just as I was finishing. He looked pale as a ghost and desperate. “I didn’t do that stuff. I didn’t break anything-”

“The problem is, you’re the only one we can place at the scene. You’re facing the punishment for everything that group did, whether or not you took part in it.” I let that hang in the air for a second.

“Mick,” his mum said, low and pleading, “c’mon, honey, you’ve got a way out here. Don’t mess up your future-”

“Mum, stop-”

“You fell in with the wrong-”

“Mum, please,” Mickey repeated, stronger, and Donna White fell quiet, looking so upset that I really felt for her. Mickey looked torn in two as well, but I had less sympathy for the kid because he could fix this, and so far, he wasn’t choosing to.

When I left an open silence and Mickey didn’t start talking, I decided it was time to try a softer approach.

“You called 999, Mickey,” I said, gentling my voice. “You were scared for that man’s life, and you quite possibly saved it. You cared enough about him to do that, didn’t you?”

He gave a small nod.

“And that farmer who got injured when his barn was set on fire?” I reminded him. “Whose livelihood is going to suffer because some teenagers got bored, whose animals were burned, do you think that’s fair?” I paused for a moment, looking between Mickey and his mother. Ms White kept turning to look at her son, clearly urging him to say something, anything.

“I don’t think you meant for anyone to get hurt,” I went on when Mickey stayed mute, “but by letting this group go on like this, you’re enabling them to carry on doing this. That farmer got away with a bump on the head, the elderly man had to go to hospital, and he’s still recovering. How long is it going to be until they kill someone?”

Mickey had curled into himself as I talked, projecting every body language sign that he wanted me to stop telling him the things he didn’t want to hear. But I pushed on because it was the truth, and he needed to face it.

“I know you don’t want to rat them out,” I said evenly, “but these are the consequences if you keep on protecting them; innocent people getting hurt or killed. If they set a house on fire next time, and there’s a child inside-”

“Okay!” Mickey yelled, suddenly enough to make both me and his mother jump. “Okay, fine, I’ll tell you!”

My shoulders relaxed, the edge of my tension fading. I hadn’t been sure for a minute there whether Mickey was going to help or not.

“Thank you,” I said genuinely. “Can you tell us the names