Heatwave Oliver Davies (story reading .txt) 📖

“What kind of thing?” I sat up straighter, tension making my shoulders stiff. I fumbled to get my notebook and a pen as I waited for Mickey to speak again.

“I don’t know. I’d say if I did, but he wouldn’t say. They’re just planning something.” When I didn’t immediately reply, Mickey’s tone turned almost defensive as he added, “You told me to call you if there was anything. It’s not my fault they won’t tell me.”

“I know, I know it’s not your fault, and I really appreciate the heads up,” I assured him quickly. “This ‘he’ you mentioned, do you mean the blond teen? The leader?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Did he give any hint at when this event might happen?”

“Soon. I don’t know, in the next few days.”

“Did he say where?”

“No. Sorry.”

“Alright,” I said, making a note of what little he could tell me. I turned my pen over in my fingers, agitated by the news. “And there was no suggestion of what kind of thing he was talking about? A fire, a robbery-?”

“No,” Mickey sounded impatient, but I thought I could hear the worry underneath it. “He just said something, okay? If you won’t believe what I tell you, what’s the point-?”

“Hey,” I said sharply, not appreciating his tone. “I’m not doubting what you’re telling me, I’m simply asking questions. It’s my job, Mickey.”

“Yeah. Sorry,” he muttered. “I have to go.”

“Call me if you hear anything more. Anything,” I stressed. “Even something small, okay?”

He mumbled his agreement before hanging up, and I sighed, dragging a hand over my face.

“That was Mickey? What did he want?” Stephen took in the frown on my face and looked concerned.

I relayed the little Mickey had told me, and Stephen shook his head.

“This doesn’t help. We can’t do anything about this- this mysterious ‘thing’ they’re planning. It’s useless.”

“It’s not totally useless,” I said wearily. “It indicates that Mickey feels comfortable calling to tell me what’s going on, so if he finds out bigger information in the future, we can trust that he’ll let us know.”

“Yeah, but that’ll be too late to stop this.”

“We’re playing the long game, Steph. This is a big web, and there are a lot of moving parts.”

Stephen looked unconvinced, and I understood his frustration. I wished Mickey had given us information that we could act on, but he clearly wasn’t high up enough in the teenagers’ group to be accessing that kind of intel.

“He could be playing both sides, you know,” Stephen said, resting his head on his hand. “What he just told you is so vague it doesn’t help us at all, but it does make us more likely to trust him like you said. Convenient, no?”

“He’s not a professional spy. He’s a scared kid. I offered him a way to get leniency, and I hope he’s doing the smart thing and cooperating with us.”

“Just don’t underestimate him, okay?”

“Aye, this case is already making clear that teenagers shouldn’t be underestimated,” I said. “Especially when they’re getting together like this.”

“It is weirdly organised,” Stephen agreed. “Erratic, sure, but there seems like there’s some bigger plan, do you think?”

“Mm, maybe. Though what that might be, I have no idea.”

With no word from Keira and our research revealing nothing particularly urgent, Stephen and I called it a night at five, and I went to meet Sam. We were set to run back to my flat tonight, and she’d stay at mine over the weekend. I was hopeful about getting to spend some time with her, lounging around in the shade and drinking the homemade lemonade she liked to make when the weather was this hot.

We ate takeaway together in the small communal garden beside my block of flats, sitting in creaky fold-up chairs and laughing over nothing much at all. The air was a pleasant temperature by then, but the insects eventually drove us indoors.

“My family’s having a barbeque on Sunday,” she told me as we were lying stretched out on the bed. The duvet had been shoved off, and I’d set up a fan on the windowsill nearby, which lethargically moved the warm air around the room.

“Are you going to go?” I asked. The heat made me sleepier than usual, and my eyelids were already half-shut.

“I was hoping we could both go.” She rolled over onto her stomach, resting her chin on her hands so she could look at me. “You’ve met my parents, but my cousins and aunts and uncles will be there too, you know?”

For a brief, bitter moment, I wondered what the point was of me meeting her wider family. She was moving so far away soon, and as much as I wanted to hope that we’d be able to ride it out, I was worried that we wouldn’t. But I couldn’t say that, it would be too hurtful.

“Sounds nice,” I said after a moment.

She lay back, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t know much about your family,” she said. Her tone was casual, but I tensed, and I knew she felt it. “You don’t talk about them.”

I made a noncommittal noise, closing my eyes as if that would stop her from asking.

“Darren.” She touched my shoulder a moment later, and I startled slightly, opening my eyes again. “We don’t have to talk about it now, but I’d like to know someday. You can trust me, you know that?”

“Of course I trust you,” I said, and it was true. It didn’t mean that I wanted to drag up the past, though.

“Okay,” she said quietly, knowing me well enough to tell that I wasn’t going to be pressed into saying anything more tonight.

She moved her hand down to link her pinkie finger with mine since it was too hot to hold hands, and I smiled. We lay there for long enough that I slipped into sleep, Sam’s finger still curled around mine.

Eleven

Keira approached our desks on Monday afternoon, and both Stephen and I gave her our full attention.

“You’ve found something?” I