Heatwave

by Oliver Davies

  “Detective? Have you fo-?” Ms White started.

  “Listen. What’s Mickey’s school? What’s the name of it?”

  “What? Oh, it’s Rose Heath, it’s down near-”

  I barely stopped myself from swearing, taking the phone away from my ear and covering the speaker.

  “There’s a child in that school, I’d bet money on it,” I told the firefighter urgently, my words spilling out over the top of one another. “His name is Mickey White. He’s the traitor the graffiti means, and this is his school.”

  Both Stephen and the firefighter stared at me.

  “Are you sure?” Stephen asked.

  “No, I’m not sure,” I snapped. “But I reckon there’s a strong likelihood that Mickey’s tied up in there, don’t you?”

  Stephen and I stared at each other, and finally, Stephen nodded. But the firefighter was frowning hard, and I braced myself for his disagreement.

  “Look, if I send my team into there, they could get hurt or die. I need you to be straight with me about how likely it is-”

  “He’s been missing since this morning, or possibly last night. And this gang has a serious reason to be vindictive against him. I don’t want your people to get hurt, of course, I don’t, but I seriously believe a child is inside that building.”

  I turned to look at the burning school for a second, my heart in my throat as I thought about Mickey possibly being locked up inside there. It was a gamble to think that the gang would actually try to murder the boy, but my gut told me that I was right. I was sure that Alistair and the rest were cold enough and ruthless enough to do something like that to someone they considered a traitor, someone who’d taken information to the police.

  The firefighter had been looking at the school too, and he pressed his lips into a grey, thin line before nodding.

  “Okay.” He got on his radio to call his team, and I got back on the phone with Mickey’s mum, who’d been panicking while I kept her waiting.

  “Ms White, I believe your son may be in danger. I need you to stay home, and if he returns, you must let me know the second he arrives, okay?”

  “In danger?” she said weakly.

  My gaze flicked over to Stephen, who was watching me. He gave a grimace of sympathy as I tried to decide how much to tell her. If Mickey was my kid, would I want to be here, watching the school burn and not knowing whether or not my child was inside? If I turned out to be wrong, I didn’t want to terrify her into fearing her son was dead. But if the worst did happen and Mickey was in there, and we couldn’t reach him in time, shouldn’t she be here?

  “What kind of danger? Where’s my son?” Mickey’s mum demanded as I hesitated, split with indecision.

  “Tell her,” Stephen said quietly. I gave him a small nod, trusting his decision, especially because he had children of his own.

  “I’m worried that your son is caught in a fire,” I started before going on to explain further, keeping my voice as even and reassuring as I could.

  I repeated multiple times that Mickey may not be in the building at all and that I was simply doing my best with the facts we had. But I really did believe that the gang was motivated and capable of doing something like this, and that was enough for me to ask the firefighters to risk their safety to look for the teenager inside.

  “Oh god, oh god,” Mickey’s mum gasped on the phone. “I’m coming right now. I’ll be there-”

  “Ms White, is there someone who can drive you? You shouldn’t drive right now, not with everything going on.”

  “No, I- I can’t wait, I need to be there.”

  I grimaced, thinking that I should’ve predicted this, but I absolutely couldn’t have her getting into a car accident because she was too worried for her son to focus on driving.

  “Please listen to me. Right now, it’s rush hour, and it’ll take you ages to get over here, okay? Just wait for a police car to come and get you, and you’ll be here much faster. Can you do that?”

  “How long will it be?”

  “Not long, ten minutes at most. Please, you’ve got to be safe, for Mickey’s sake.”

  “Okay, okay,” she relented.

  Stephen had heard what I was saying and snagged the arm of the junior police officer who’d come over to us earlier. He sent her to go and fetch Donna White, and I nodded my thanks as I continued to talk to her, trying to reassure her and also simply keep her on the phone. I was worried that if I hung up, she wouldn’t wait for the police car to arrive and would drive over herself.

  Whilst I talked to her, I stared forwards at the school, watching the flames climb higher. The firefighters were doing their damnedest, but they barely contained it, not subduing it. I saw firefighters moving forwards in teams or pairs, preparing to enter the building by a side door and sent a silent prayer up into the smoky sky that they would be safe.

  My gut was churning with doubt and fear, no matter how outwardly together I was trying to appear. I was scared for Mickey and concerned for the firefighters, but I was also overwhelmingly aware that if either of them ended up hurt or worse, it would be on my head. I’d been the one to ask Mickey to relay information back to us in return for leniency, and I’d been the one to tell the firefighters that there might be a child inside.

  My head started spiralling, thinking of the firefighter’s families and wondering whether I was totally wrong and Mickey was somewhere completely different, safe and well. I’d come to my conclusions through evidence, it was true, but there was a hefty dose of gut feeling in the mix too, and what if I was wrong? Talking to Mickey’s mum and hearing the fear in her voice made all the doubts well up at once, twice as vicious as before.

  Finally, Donna told me that the police car had arrived, and she hung up as she was driven over. The firefighters had yet to emerge from the burning school, but the firemen working on the outside with the hoses did seem to make some small progress in beating the fire back on the right side.

  “Mitchell?” Stephen said, getting my attention.

  “Aye?”

  “Even if you’re wrong, mate, you were working off the facts. You’re worried about a child’s safety. No one could fault you for that.”

  I gave a tight, humourless laugh. “If a member of the fire service team ends up dead, I’m sure someone will fault me for it.”

  “Hey.” He grasped my shoulder in his big hand and made me turn to look at him. “You can’t think like that. This is their job, and they’re highly trained. You’ve done your best, Darren, and I trust you.”

  “Sometimes I make the wrong calls, though,” I said. The smoke was getting in my eyes and making them sting. “I put myself in danger. What if I’m doing that now to someone else?”

  Stephen frowned at me, hesitating for a long moment as he clearly tried to find something to say. I was about to reassure him when there was a loud shout, loud enough to be heard even over the fire, and I looked up sharply.

  The firefighters had emerged from the school, and I broke forwards into a run before I could think about it. I had to dodge between the gathered people and push past the firefighter who tried to stop me, but then I was free to sprint forwards towards the staggering firefighters and the flames.

  Two of them had come out of the door, and between them, they were carrying something or someone. Someone small, their legs dangling limp, and who seemed painfully fragile in the bulky arms of the suited-up firefighters. My stomach in my throat, I skidded to a stop in front of them and reached out to take the child since the two firefighters were clearly overheated and exhausted.

  They passed him over, and I took his weight, ignoring the stab of pain in my ribs. I took in the teenager’s grey skin, limply open mouth and closed eyes even as I was hurrying him away from the heat, which was hot enough to singe my hair. The two firefighters followed after me, lumbering in their big suits. Behind me, I heard one of them say something, though what it was, I couldn’t tell. I twisted around to look at them, and the woman took off her helmet now that we wer
e a safe distance from the school.

  “He’s alive,” she told me urgently. “Get him to an ambulance!”

  I responded to her order even before I’d processed her words. The teenager in my arms was still breathing, and he needed help. I broke into a run, gritting my teeth against the jarring pain of my still-healing ribs, and hurried towards the ambulance I could see over the heads of the people gathered, watching.

  “Move!” I yelled as I approached them.

  They parted in front of me, and I hurried through, almost colliding with a pair of paramedics who’d been coming towards me. I came to a stop on the dusty ground and let Mickey be taken from me, panting and coughing as I tried to work the smoke out of my lungs. Someone passed me a water bottle, and I gulped the lukewarm water down before breaking into another fit of coughing.

  “Easy, deep breaths, mate,” Stephen said from beside me, patting me on the back.

  “Where is he? Where’s my son?” a woman shouted nearby.

  The familiar voice made me look up as I continued to cough, my ribs throbbing. A woman pushed through the crowd, and I recognised Mickey’s mum at the same time that Stephen did. Mickey had already been carried over to the ambulance, an oxygen mask being fitted over his pale face, and they were now closing the doors.

  “Catch the ambulance,” I told Stephen in a hoarse voice as I made myself straighten up and move towards Donna White.

  “Mickey?” she was calling.

  “Ms White!” I said, my voice cracking. She spun towards me, rushing forwards to grab me by the arms before she seemed to notice the state I was in and pulled back slightly.

  “Where is he?” she croaked.

  “He’s in that ambulance, you’ve got to go now. Go and see him.” I pointed out the ambulance, though it was hard to miss it.

  No sooner had I told her than she was off, shoving past anyone who was in her way as if she didn’t even see them. One of the paramedics opened up the back door of the van to let her in, and she clambered up inside. The ambulance went screeching off after that, and I watched it go, too exhausted to feel the relief that I knew would come.

  On the one hand, I’d hoped that my guess had been wrong, and that Mickey hadn’t been in the school at all. But since he had been, finding him and getting him out alive was about as much as I could’ve wished for. I bent over my knees, my arm wrapped around my middle, and tried to catch my breath. The adrenaline, the thick smoke, and the running had knocked me out, and I was feeling somewhat shaky.

  “Alright, let’s get you out of here,” Stephen said, appearing back by my side.

  “We need to tell Rashford and update Sed-”

  “Mitchell, save your breath, okay? I can do that, or they can wait, honestly. Come on. You’re breathing like you’ve been smoking forty a day. Let’s sit you down somewhere.”

  “Sam’ll kill me if I end up in hospital again,” I muttered, letting him lead me over to a school bench and gently push me onto it.

  “Yeah, well, she’ll kill you more if you need the hospital and don’t go because you’re stubborn.”

  I gave a weak laugh at that before breaking out into more coughing. My throat felt painfully raw, and I welcomed the water Stephen offered me.

  “C’mon, let’s get you over to the car. You staying here in all this smoke isn’t doing you any good.”

  Once he’d loaded me into the front passenger seat, Stephen put it out on the radio that we were leaving the scene so that no-one would be fruitlessly looking for us or worried that we’d gone into the school.

  Despite my feeble protests, he drove us over to A&E to have a doctor listen to my lungs and poke at my ribs.

  “Don’t tell Sam,” I said to Stephen after swallowing the pain meds the doctor had given me. “I don’t want her seeing me in here again. I’ll tell her at home, okay?”

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “Just as long as you do actually tell her.”

  “Aye, of course. I wasn’t going to hide it,” I said, somewhat offended that he thought I might.

  “Good, good.”

  He checked his watch, and I winced at the time when I saw that it was well past when I was usually due over at Sam’s. I sent her off a brief message to say that we’d gotten caught up in something and that I’d be back soon. She replied almost immediately with a thumbs up, which I knew meant that she’d been worrying. Usually, she didn’t keep her phone on her, so it could take a little while before she replied, but she’d clearly been watching it if she’d replied so fast.

  My gut tightened with both guilt and fondness. I hated to worry her at all and did my best to keep her updated, but it was inevitable in a job like mine that sometimes things got away from us. And she knew that, of course, so I didn’t think she blamed me for it. Still, at moments like this, I wondered whether she’d be better off with someone who worked a safe, nine-to-five office job so that she wouldn’t have to worry that I was in the hospital every time I was late home.

  The doctor came back before I could ruminate on it further, and I pushed the thoughts away best I could. I wouldn’t have Sam here with me for that much longer, so I intended to make the very best of the time we did have left together. She’d chosen to be with me, despite my long hours and dangerous job, and I respected that. Right now, I couldn’t wait to be back home with her, curled up together on the sofa until one or both of us fell asleep.

  Twenty-Two

  The weather broke over the weekend, a thunderstorm lashing down rain and soaking the dusty ground. Sam was disappointed that we wouldn’t be able to sit out in the back garden, but the fresh, wet air made me feel refreshed. We took it lazy, spending time together and not doing too much as my ribs healed up and I recovered from the smoke.

  Sam would leave for Kent soon, and sometimes I couldn’t help but gather her close and wish like crazy that she could stay there. We didn’t talk about it, but I knew it was on both of our minds.

  First thing Monday morning saw Stephen and I summoned into Rashford’s office. With my coffee mug in hand, we headed over and let ourselves in when she called.

  Stephen had updated Rashford and Sedgwick on Friday evening about the events at Rose Heath school and Mickey being admitted to hospital. So Rashford was fully aware of what had gone on, and I was glad that she’d let me have the weekend to recharge before she ordered a meeting with us.

  “How’s the boy?” she asked after we’d sat down.

  Stephen looked at me because I’d been the one getting regular updates on Mickey’s well being from his mum.

  “Mickey’s back home and doing well, ma’am. He breathed in a lot of smoke, so they had him on oxygen for a while, but he’s recovering at a good rate.”

  “No other injuries?”

  “Bumps and bruises. I haven’t spoken to him yet, but his mum thinks he was beaten up, ma’am.”

  “While I’m disappointed that the school has been so badly damaged, I can only commend you for getting Mickey out,” she said, a slight frown on her brow.

  “That was the firefighters, really, ma’am,” I gave a small shrug.

  “Don’t be falsely modest. The fire chief let me know that you were the one to tell them a boy was inside. I don’t need to tell you what would have happened if you hadn’t realised.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Now tell me you know who did this. We’re looking at a hefty amount of damage to that school that’s going to cost the council dearly, and I need to tell them that we’ve got the perpetrators’ heads on a platter.”

  “I’m almost certain we know who it was, ma’am. It’s proving it that’s the difficult part.”

  “Proving it is your job, DCI Mitchell,” she said sternly before sighing. “Go and get on with it then. If you’re fit enough to be here, you’re fit enough to work, so get me some answers, alright?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” me and Stephen said, getting to our feet as she dismissed us.

  “And Mitchell?” she said as my hand was on the door. I turned around to
face her. “Well done. You saved the boy’s life. That’s good police work.”

  I couldn’t respond to that and just gave a nod, my lips pressed together. She waved us out, and I pulled the door shut behind us.

  “You’re terrible at accepting praise, you know that?”

  “How can I?” I said, turning on Stephen. “If I hadn’t asked Mickey to help us, he never would have been in danger at all!”

  “You know what his mum will think? ‘If I’d kept a better eye on him’ or ‘if I’d stopped him from leaving the house the day before,’ then it wouldn’t have happened, either. But she didn’t know, and neither did you. Mickey made choices to join that gang in the first place-”

  “He’s sixteen, just a teenager. I should’ve known better than to ask him-”

  “The only people at fault here are the ones who put Mickey in that school and set it on fire, do you understand? You can try to trace the blame back to any of us, but essentially, they were the ones who did wrong.” He held up a hand when I tried to argue. “Now, maybe this will mean you won’t ask a teenager to give us information in the future the same way we asked Mickey, and that’s fine. We can learn from stuff like this. But it was a unique, dynamic situation, and we were doing our best. You’re not to blame, I promise.”

  My shoulders sagged at his words, and I released a tired breath. I still wasn’t sure I entirely believed him. But what I did know was that Mickey’s mum would blame herself when she shouldn’t be, and I could only hope that she’d have the same feeling towards my part in putting Mickey in danger. At the time, I’d thought that the risk was small and worth it.

  Now, I knew better.

  “I couldn’t have forgiven myself if he’d died,” I said quietly. Stephen wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave me a quick side hug.

  “I know, mate. But it wasn’t your fault, and he’s going to be absolutely fine.”

  I gave him a nod and a weak smile, and he patted me on the shoulder.

  “Right, let’s get the scum who actually deserve the blame for this, okay? That’s the best we can do for Mickey right now.”