Heatwave Oliver Davies (story reading .txt) 📖

I answered some specific queries that Rashford didn’t know the answer to or preferred for me to respond to. It was all rounded up within half an hour or so, and we both released a breath as we left the room, Stephen because of the stress and me because the small room had been getting far too warm with so many people inside it.

“Time for a coffee,” I decided, heading for the break room.

“It’s too damn hot for coffee.”

“Not when you have a girlfriend who made about a gallon of iced coffee last night.” I gave him a grin as I took a bottle out of the fridge and tipped some into a mug.

Sam liked coffee almost as much as I did, though she preferred it with milk and sugar, and we’d spent an enjoyable couple of hours last night playing around with online recipes for iced coffee.

“C’mon, let me have a taste,” Stephen said plaintively, looking at me with puppy-dog eyes. The expression was more amusing than anything else since it was coming from a six-foot-tall, block-headed bloke who used to play rugby, and I laughed.

I gave him some to try, though, and grinned at the look of delight on his face.

“Damn, that’s good. That’s better than Costa’s.”

“I know, right?”

We headed back to our desks while sipping the cold drink, and my mood grew sombre as I considered what had been said at the press conference and how Alistair was still missing.

I checked the time on my watch, but it was still relatively early. We’d had no word yet from the officers who were stationed outside the address where the patches were due to be delivered, so I figured that I had some time before we’d need to head over there.

“I’m going to hunt down Sedgwick, see if he’s around. We could do with an update on his investigation since it seems to tie in with ours.”

“He hasn’t sent us any new reports recently,” Stephen agreed. “Do you want me to come with you?” Even as he asked, he didn’t look very keen. He was still sipping his iced coffee and looked about as eager to get up and move as a hibernating bear.

“No,” I said with a slight smile. “You carry on with what you’re doing. Sedgwick’s probably out anyway, but I’ll just have a scout around.”

It turned out that Sedgwick was at his desk after all, though as usual, he didn’t look best pleased to see me.

“What do you want?”

“Any updates on the Alistair Pumphrey search?” I asked.

“Have I sent you an email with updates?” he said, giving me a flat look.

“No.”

“Then, no, Mitchell. We’ve hit a dead end. The boy’s disappeared.”

“Damn,” I muttered. “Well, we’ve got an ID on the teenager, Jules, who was in connection with Alistair-”

“I know. I read your write-up.” He gestured impatiently for me to get to the point.

“But we can’t bring him in. We haven’t enough against him,” I finished.

“Your problem to sort that out, then.”

I pressed my lips together briefly. “My problem, yes, but it’ll benefit you if we can get the kid to tell the truth about his connection with Alistair, hm?”

“Like I already said, what do you want?”

“Just keep an eye out for the blond kid, Jules, okay? We need evidence on him, and it’ll help you too.”

“Alright, alright.”

He waved his fingers at me, flicking me away, and his partner, Alison Greene, gave me an apologetic look. I shook my head and walked away, thinking how glad I was to have Stephen as my partner and not a man like Sedgwick. To be fair, he gave the impression of getting on well enough with Greene, who seemed to be one of the only ones who could argue with him and actually change his opinion.

Stephen was standing up at his desk when I returned, and I sent him a hopeful look.

“There’s news?”

“Good and bad. Two teens did come to pick up the patches, but they’re young, low down in the hierarchy.”

“Darn.” I made a noise of frustration in my throat.

“The officers there picked them up regardless, in case we wanted to talk to them.”

“Hopefully, they’ll have something for us.” I sighed. “It’d be good to get a look at the patches, at least.”

“They’re bringing the teens back here. It shouldn’t be long,” Stephen told me.

“Maybe I should’ve told them to leave the kids if it was just younger ones,” I wondered aloud as I flopped down into my seat, and Stephen sat down beside me.

“Why?”

“The group’s going to know that we’re aware of the patches and tracking them now. They won’t use that route again, so we’re left high and dry. And what do we get? A couple of lackeys who probably won’t know any more than Mickey, or even less.”

“That’s assuming the kids report back, right?” Stephen countered. “Maybe we can get them on our side and send them back with the patches, the gang none the wiser.”

“Maybe, but it’s a risk. What if someone was watching what happened? The teens could be in danger if we send them back to spy for us. I don’t want to put that burden on a child.”

“You were fine doing it with Mickey,” Stephen challenged.

I shot him a stony look. “That was different. Mickey’s a bit older, and we brought him in to talk to us from his home. It’s unlikely anyone watched that, right?”

“But we first talked to him after he and Tiger were caught at the barn fire-”

“Exactly,” I said stubbornly. “That was him and Tiger. The teens aren’t going to get suspicious of kids that get caught by us. That’s part of the risk they’re taking with the crimes they’re committing, right? But I reckon they’d get suspicious if we sent those two kids back with the patches, ‘cus we wouldn’t do that unless they were working with us, would we?”

“So we don’t send them back with the patches,” he said with a shrug.

I sighed. “Look, you have a point, but I’ll admit that it was a risk