Heatwave Oliver Davies (story reading .txt) 📖

had found out about that. A group of volatile teens turning on a younger kid they consider a traitor would be a dangerous situation.

I reminded myself that we didn’t have reason to think that they knew, and most probably, Mickey was just ignoring my calls or had his phone off. He certainly wouldn’t pick up the phone to me when he was hanging out around the others, which he might very well be doing.

“No dice?” Stephen said, his tone gentle and not boastful. He’d heard my conversation with Mickey’s mother and that it hadn’t been an easy one.

“Nope. I guess we’ll have to try other routes.”

I was troubled that the deal I thought Mickey had agreed on with us had fallen through. He’d seemed reluctant to give us the information, that was true, but I thought we’d won him over with the promise of leniency for the incidents we’d linked him to. If he didn’t turn up soon, and prove that he was still cooperating with us, then he’d be facing the full consequences of his actions. And on top of that, we’d have lost him as a key source of intelligence on the gang.

“How’s it coming with the patches?” I asked, hoping for good news.

“They’re due tomorrow, apparently. They’ve been dispatched, and we’ve got the tracking number for the Post Office, so we can see when it’s due to be delivered at the address put into the website.”

“Alright, good. So we’ll need officers watching the house early tomorrow for when the post arrives.”

I was working on sending an email to some junior officers to see who could spare the time to give us a hand when a call came through from Rashford. She summoned us to her office, and Stephen and I shared a look.

“This needs to be handled,” she said almost the moment we’d sat down on the other side of her desk. “Getting the run-around from some teenagers is embarrassing for the force, Mitchell.”

“With due respect, ma’am, they’re a lot better organized than most teenagers. They’ve got leadership, they’ve got tech skills-”

“They’re still kids.” She put her palms on the table and lowered her voice. “I believe you, and I know from your reports that this isn’t easy. I do not doubt your work ethic or abilities, so don’t go getting a bruised ego.” She gave the pair of us a stern look. I raised my eyebrows but stayed quiet.

“But the public doesn’t know that they’re organised and there’s a lot of them, or whatever the problem is. They’re not going to have much faith in us, in me as superintendent, if a case like this is causing us issues. So get it sorted. That’s your top priority, the pair of you.”

It already was our top priority, but I suspected she knew that. She was as eager as we were to make sure that no-one else got hurt because of this teenage gang and, though I was admittedly offended by her accusation that we might not be taking this seriously enough, I knew that it came from a place of concern.

“We’re working on it, ma’am,” Stephen said when I didn’t immediately respond.

“The press has picked it up, now,” she said, driving her point home. “The latest victim of their- their actions, shall we say, is still in hospital. You were the first to see the pattern, Mitchell, so it’s you who’s been given the short straw of sorting it out. Unfortunately, now you’re not the only one who’s noticed it, and we’ve got the media clamouring for a press conference.”

“A conference, ma’am?” I repeated. Usually, those didn’t happen until we needed to ask the public for information, or a serious violent crime had been committed that we needed to release a statement on.

“Yes.” She gave me a look that told me she’d be very unimpressed if I argued with her. “Tomorrow morning, eleven o’clock. Be prompt.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She dismissed us, and we spent the day doing research, chasing up the leads we had so far and digging up disappointingly little.

“I really hate press conferences,” Stephen muttered the following morning as we stood waiting outside the room.

“I know, mate.” I squeezed his shoulder. “But Rashford will do most of the talking, and I’ll pick up any questions that she can’t. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks, Mitch. I better try to manage a couple of words, though. Annie always thinks it’s neat that I get to be on television.” He grimaced. “Even if the subject is pretty grim.”

“You do what you’re comfortable with.” I gave him a pat on the back, and then it was time for us to go and face the cameras.

Rashford was already seated in place, and we went to join her, sitting down on either side. The press were arrayed in front, and I scanned briefly over the small gathering before looking away. I was good with public speaking normally, but I did find it helped not to focus on the crowd directly but on the wall at the back of the room or the camera itself.

The conference kicked off, and Rashford spoke eloquently and sternly about the seriousness of the teenagers’ attacks on York’s residents and property and how they were facing serious charges that shouldn’t be underestimated. She advised other young people to stay well away from this group and for parents to keep a good eye on their children to keep them from being pulled into joining this troubling movement.

I couldn’t honestly imagine that many teenagers watched the local news, nor that, if they did, they’d listen to a police superintendent telling them to stay out of trouble. But I hoped that parents who listened in would heed her message and try to keep their kids from getting involved in this. The gang was something that would be easy for a young person to be drawn into and then hard for them to leave behind.

Stephen managed a couple of sentences in response to a journalist’s question, and