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

can definitely manage sooner rather than later. We’ll be over in half an hour or so.”

We agreed on that time, and she hung up. I went to fetch another cup of coffee, hot this time because it’d been so much cooler today, and then filled Stephen in on the plan.

“Here’s hoping Mickey will be sensible and tell us exactly what happened,” Stephen said, taking a sip of the tea I’d made him.

“He’d be an idiot if he doesn’t,” I muttered before rubbing my forehead. “Or maybe I shouldn’t be so harsh. He’s just been traumatised and scared to hell by that group. Maybe he won’t trust us to protect him. I don’t know.”

“There’s an officer in his house right now, isn’t there?”

“Aye, two of them to keep an eye on him. And with good reason too, if the gang were willing to set light to a bloody school to get revenge on him.”

Stephen nodded grimly, and we were silent for a moment, both thinking of the burned school and how close Mickey had come to not coming out of it alive. Stephen turned to his computer screen after a second and tapped the monitor with his finger.

“In terms of the CCTV, it’s bad news. Someone either looped or destroyed any cameras that could’ve caught anything.”

“Of course,” I said bitterly. “That’ll be Alistair’s work, then.”

“Probably. We could really do with getting hold of his laptop or computer and having Adams trawl through it.”

“Though if he’s as smart and thorough as he seems, no doubt he’s wiped it already.”

“Ugh, true,” Stephen said with a grimace.

We left the station to head over to Mickey’s not long afterwards. As Stephen drove, I had the thought to check the location of the petrol canisters, though I wasn’t expecting much. I’d assumed that the trackers could either have already been found, which would explain how the gang knew Mickey was a spy, or else they’d been tossed into the fire at the school. Either way, they would’ve been destroyed.

So when I brought up the site for tracking them, I inhaled sharply to see that they were still live and that they were in the same place they’d been originally stored. The information confused me, and I frowned at the screen, wondering whether the cans had been refilled and the gang were planning something else or if they’d just been neatly put back after the school was set alight.

“After we see Mickey, we’ll need some back-up for a house search,” I said slowly as the plan came to me.

“Which house?”

“The place where the petrol was stored. The trackers are saying that the canisters are still there, and they might have fingerprints on them.”

Stephen looked as baffled as I’d been and was silent for several seconds before he found something to say.

“So… they didn’t find the trackers?” he guessed.

“I suppose not. Otherwise, they surely would’ve destroyed them, right?”

“Unless it’s a trap for us.”

I winced. It hadn’t occurred to me, but it did sound like something the gang might do, now that I thought of it. It was certainly ruthless enough.

“Maybe, but we still need to go,” I decided. “There could be crucial evidence there.”

“If they didn’t find the trackers, how did they know that Mickey was giving us info?” Stephen wondered aloud a moment later as we were pulling up outside the Whites’ house.

“No idea. Let’s go and ask him, hm?”

A police officer answered the door almost immediately after I knocked and politely asked to see my badge before she let me in, which I approved of. She showed us through to where Mickey and his mum were already sitting in the lounge, waiting for us.

I went over to shake her hand in greeting and was surprised when she grabbed me into a hug.

“I saw the video on the news,” she said tearfully, hugging me tightly before letting go.

“On the news?”

“Yes, of you carrying Mickey.” She wiped her fingers under her eyes.

“Oh,” I said blankly, turning to Stephen to see if he’d heard of this, but he shook his head.

Perhaps it shouldn’t have been a surprise; I’d known that there were journalists around at the Rose Heath school fire. What I hadn’t realised was that one of them must have caught me running Mickey to the ambulance on camera. I hoped Sam hadn’t seen it, or at least that she hadn’t seen how close to the burning building I’d gotten.

“We’re very grateful,” she repeated sincerely before she offered us tea and coffee and fetched it for us.

Throughout, Mickey stayed sitting small and quiet on the sofa. He looked pale and tired, and his stillness was in complete contrast to his mum’s nervous busyness.

“How’ve you been getting on?” I asked him, taking a seat on the settee opposite.

“Fine.” He gave a small shrug.

I nodded and leaned back, waiting until Donna was back before we started asking more questions. I really hoped that the teenager would be more cooperative with us than he had been in the past, but I also was in no way forgetting what a horrific experience he’d had in the last few days. If he couldn’t bear to talk about it or was justifiably afraid of the gang, I didn’t want to hurt him further by pushing him past his comfort zone. We’d have to take whatever he wanted to give us.

“Here you are,” Donna said, coming in with a tray of drinks. She’d made two mugs for the pair of officers keeping an eye on the house, one inside and one sitting in a car outside, and she handed those out too.

“Thanks.” I accepted mine and took a sip, finding it pleasantly strong.

The weather had definitely cooled down after the dumping of rain and, even though it was still warm, I felt unused to being back at a comfortable temperature and the heat of the coffee through my mug felt pleasant on my hands. I set the cup down after taking a sip and dug my notebook from my pocket, Mickey’s gaze following my movements.

“I