Heatwave Oliver Davies (story reading .txt) đź“–
- Author: Oliver Davies
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“Okay.”
“And if there are new developments, if they contact you or you hear something important, you ring that number, am I clear?”
“So you want me to spy on them?” he challenged.
I looked at him steadily. “I thought we’d agreed that neither of us wants more people getting hurt.”
“Yeah, okay,” he mumbled, dropping his head to look down at the table.
“It’s not about spying. It’s about stopping someone else from ending up in hospital.”
Mickey just nodded. I sent a look towards his mum, who was fiddling with her handbag.
“Mickey’ll do it,” she tried to assure me. “He’s a good boy, really.”
“I hope he’ll do the right thing,” I said firmly before getting to my feet.
“What about the consequences? Will they be lenient?” she asked hesitantly.
“I’ll make it known that he’s spoken to us today,” I told them both since Mickey had looked up sharply when his mother asked the question. “But it’ll also be in the report that he didn’t answer all of our questions.”
“Come on, that’s not fair!” Mickey retorted. “D’you want them putting me in hospital for being a snitch?”
“Of course not,” I frowned. “If you genuinely fear for your safety, we can have you protected, Mickey.”
“It’s fine,” he snapped. He shoved his chair back. “Can we go now?”
“Aye, you’re free to go for now,” I sighed. “But don’t leave the city, understood?”
Mickey’s mum gave me a nod of acknowledgement whilst Mickey glowered at the floor and made for the door as soon as I gestured towards it. Ms White apologised to me for her son’s attitude before she went after him, as he was striding away towards the doors, clearly desperate to leave. I stood in the reception foyer with my arms folded and watched them go.
Mickey had given us useful information, and though he’d not disclosed all of it, he’d also highlighted what we needed to find out and what was important. He’d confirmed that the blond teenager, Jules, was significantly involved, too, which was useful.
My eyes were feeling dry and beginning to twitch with tiredness, so with a yawn, I made my way slowly back up to my desk and began to pack up. For once, I didn’t much want to run home considering how late it was, so I booked out one of the plain cars out on the system and drove it over to Sam’s. No doubt I’d be terrible company for her since I’d be asleep within ten minutes of getting in, but at least I could fall asleep with her nearby. I knew now that we wouldn’t be able to have that for much longer.
Ten
Sam shuffled sleepily into the kitchen the next morning just as I was rinsing off my breakfast dish and getting ready to leave.
“Why’re you dashing off so early?” she asked, her eyes still half-closed with sleepiness. I stepped over to wrap her in a hug, resting my cheek against hers.
“I wanted to fit in a long run before work.”
She hummed, seeming too drowsy to summon any more words. I smiled as she turned to head for the shower, sparing a moment to lay out her breakfast things before I headed out the door.
At this time of day, the air was as fresh as it got, and I breathed it in in deep draughts as if I could store the coolness inside me. There’d been no rain overnight, and it was set to be another dry, boiling day, but the crisp air felt washed clean, new and revitalising. I pushed myself hard after having driven home yesterday. Sam had agreed to drive the car I’d borrowed back to the station this morning, and then we could both run home after work, provided I could off on time tonight.
For the moment, though, I didn’t dwell on work, or the intricacies of our still-unfolding case, or even on Sam’s steadily approaching day of departure. I pushed it out of my head and let the running wash over me, pushing me through the cool air. By the time I reached the entrance to the station, my heart was pounding, and I stopped, panting, and put my hands on my knees.
Straightening up, I looked around, taking in the steadily waking street around me. Across the road, the food van for the shops had drawn up, and crates of produce were steadily unloaded. Several early morning businesspeople and road maintenance workers were already heading into the just-opened shops to buy their lunch, and the passing traffic was beginning to pick up as people drove to work or school.
I was stretching out the tension in my legs, still catching my breath, as a movement off to the right of the shops caught my attention. It was only for a moment, and only from the corner of my eye, but I swore I saw someone in a grey hoodie looking over at me. I watched the person’s back disappear down into a side road and stared after that, unsure whether I’d seen them turned my way or not and whether it mattered if they had been. I’d been watching the street, too, as I unwound from my run. I briefly considered walking over the road, just to see where they went, and to catch sight of their face, before I shook my head and dismissed the idea.
I turned away towards the station and crossed the car park at a light jog, shaking the thoughts from my mind. My paranoia was up after those boys I’d met in the alley, and I was on edge, but I couldn’t afford to go chasing after shadows right now.
Our old superintendent Gaskell had often warned me to stay on track during cases and not to get caught up in taking leaps of faith and relying too heavily on speculation and imagination. I liked to think that I had a
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