Stephen took another bite of his food. “Sure he will, but we’ve got a fighting chance, now. And I can’t wait to see his smug face when we nail him in court.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that. Yes, there was still the trial to go, which would no doubt be long and painful for the families and for us, but if it gave the victims the justice they deserved, it’d be worth it. Cal would be sentenced, too, but it’d be taken into consideration that he’d not been the main player.
I finished off my fish and chips and swallowed down my coffee. More than anything, I was looking forward to being able to call Abby and Taylor to tell them that they were safe now, and didn’t have to keep looking over their shoulders any more. The university could reopen, and things could return to normal again.
I scrunched up my chip paper. “Work to do, Huxley.”
He looked at me fondly. “Always work to do when you’re around.”
“Aye, true.” I chuckled. There was always more to be done, but hard work had never scared me.
Epilogue
My wife had brought in two more pieces of cake, and a cup of coffee for my dry throat, but even that had been polished off by the time I’d finished my story. Liam was typing hurriedly, the keys of his laptop clacking away almost as loudly as an old-fashioned typewriter. I smiled and left him to finish up as I went to get myself another drink, a mug of tea this time, and some lemonade for Liam.
“Oh, thanks,” he said absently as I left it on the coffee table in front of him. He didn’t touch it, though, too focused on getting all his thoughts down, and he reminded me a little of myself. Getting so wrapped up in something that I forgot what time it was, something my wife still found frustrating, and had certainly irked my partner, Stephen, though he’d started to realise it was just one of my quirks.
“And what happened then?” Liam said suddenly, his head popping up from behind his laptop like a meerkat.
“What do you mean?”
“With the trial?” Liam said eagerly. “Did Will get what he deserved? Did Cal go to prison too? Did you see Taylor again?”
I chuckled quietly. “Aye, Will got sentenced. Forensics found enough to keep him locked up for a long time. Cal got a short sentence, and, to my knowledge, he got himself back on the straight and narrow. Or at least, I never heard of him about the station again.”
Liam snapped his fingers. “I could track him down, do a follow-up.”
“That’s a good idea,” I agreed, before hesitating. “You’ll talk to your dad about it, though?” I didn’t really think that Cal was dangerous, but I also didn’t think it was a good idea for a young boy like Liam to make a habit of running around interviewing ex-criminals without adult supervision.
Liam made a noise of agreement in his throat, concentrating back on typing again. “Yeah,” he said, when he was done, “my dad always wants to hear what I’m up to. He helps me get interviews and things, with his connections.” Liam grinned, looking proud of his dad, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“That’s good. Connections are important in journalism, and a lot of industries.”
Liam nodded, fidgeting. He’d been sitting still for most of the afternoon, and now he’d gotten his story, he seemed keen to be off, and I couldn’t blame him.
“I think I’ll put it in the Halloween issue,” he decided aloud, as he began to pack up his things. “With all the spookiness and everything.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” I agreed.
“And did you see Taylor again?” he asked, zipping up his rucksack.
I shook my head. “I think I saw her in passing once, on the street. But no. Sometimes those relationships aren’t meant to last, lad.”
Liam nodded. “I know. My dad has girlfriends sometimes. He says as long as everyone communicates properly, there’s no problem with not getting married and having kids.” He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want a brother or sister, anyway.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “Sounds annoying to me. Always nicking your stuff and all that baby stuff.”
I hid a smile. “That’s a valid opinion.”
Liam pulled his backpack onto his lap and looked at me expectantly. “So I can come back next month for another story, right, Mr Mitchell?”
I pretended to consider it for a moment while Liam waited, his keenness evident in the way he was almost vibrating.
“Oh, I can’t see why not,” I said, putting him out of his misery.
His face split into a grin. “Great,” he said, bouncing to his feet. “I’ll call you. Thanks so much, Mr Mitchell.” He headed out into the hall, and I got up to see him out. “And thanks for the cake, Mrs Mitchell!” Liam yelled up the stairs, making me jump.
“Going to give me a heart attack, kid.”
He looked at me sheepishly. “Sorry.”
I shooed him out the front. “Have a good weekend, Liam. Make sure you include how annoying Stephen is in your story, aye? That’ll wind him right up.” I smiled at the thought of Stephen’s face when he read Liam’s write up, and Liam grinned cheekily.
“Will do!” he promised, before running right across my front lawn, and jumping the flowerbed at the bottom, rather than walking down the drive like any sensible person.
“That boy,” my wife said from behind me, putting her hand on my shoulder.
“Oh, I know,” I agreed. I waved at Liam as he ran off, before closing the front door. “But he keeps us young, at least.”
The Stolen Children
Book 3
Prologue
Liam was prompt as usual, and the doorbell rang at eleven on the dot. My wife had questioned whether I wanted to do something on my birthday other than rehash old memories with a high school student, but I honestly enjoyed Liam’s visits and his enthusiasm. I was looking forward to seeing the little red-haired squirt.
“I swear you’ve shot up another couple inches, lad,” I said as I opened the door. Liam was standing, fidgeting, on the doorstep, with an older man behind him who I assumed was his father. He had Liam’s red hair and pale skin, and the boy’s easy grin too.
Liam rolled his eyes. “You sound like my grandad.”
I smiled, waving him in. Liam’s dad stepped forwards, holding out his hand, which I shook warmly.
“Douglas Perry,” he introduced himself. “And you’re the famous DCI Mitchell.” He smiled to indicate that he was teasing. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Oh dear,” I said, not quite sure how to respond. “I’m surprised you still wanted to come after all that.”
Douglas laughed. “Nonsense, I couldn’t wait to meet Mr Mitchell, the myth, the legend.”
“Oh crikey,” I said, gesturing for him to step in out of the cool air. “Prepare yourself for disappointment. You must meet people much more interesting than me in your line of work. You’re a journalist, is that right?”
Douglas gave me an exaggerated shrug. “Don’t hold it against me,” he laughed. “Does it help if I say I don’t work for any of the tabloids?”
I waved a hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry. I can’t imagine I’m exactly newsworthy by your standards.”
Liam had gone ahead into the living room to set himself up, and we stepped in.
Douglas gave me a warm smile. “My son certainly thinks you’re newsworthy,” he objected. “And, from reading his articles, I’d agree with that assessment.”
“Well,” I said, stumped. “I appreciate that. Would you like some tea?”
I fetched drinks for everyone, and we got settled. Liam seemed to have added even more stickers to his laptop since his last visit, and you could hardly see the laptop anymore. He looked eager to get started and only briefly sipped at the glass of squash I’d fetched him before he looked at me expectantly.
He leaned forwards. “What happened next? What case did you have after the last one?”
I shared a look with Liam’s dad, both of us fondly amused by his eagerness. “What kind of case would you like?�
�� I asked. I’d already had a think about a couple of cases that might make suitable stories. It was a balancing act between stories interesting enough to keep him engaged but not too distressing, and ones that actually got solved. Unfortunately, there had been too many cases during my career that we had to leave unsolved.
Liam thought for a minute, chewing on his lip. “I think readers really liked the first story; about local people in Lockdale, right? Because they could relate to it and knew all the places you were talking about.” He held up his hands, looking worried that he might have offended me. “Not that they didn’t love the last case!” he added quickly. “But… if there was any story that people could relate to, does that make any sense?”
He looked up at me from under his bushy eyebrows, brown eyes wide like a watchful fox and just as intelligent. I gave him a smile to show he hadn’t offended me in the slightest.
“I think that’s insightful of you, lad,” I said. “People do like to read about things they can identify with and see people like themselves to root for.” Liam nodded like he already knew what I was saying, and I glanced over to his dad. “I expect your dad’s been teaching you all about this?”
Douglas held up his hands. “I can take no credit for that gem,” he said. “I’ve given him a few hints and tricks over the years, but he figured that one out on his own.” He sent his kid a proud smile and ruffled his hair.
“Dad!” Liam protested, patting his hair back down ruefully. He turned his bright gaze on me, and I considered his request.
“Well now, there was a case soon afterwards that involved a couple of school kids.”
Liam straightened in his seat like someone had pulled his strings. “Yeah?” he said hopefully.
I glanced over at his dad. “But maybe that would be too intense.”
“No, no, that sounds perfect!” Liam said hurriedly.
I could see that Douglas looked a touch hesitant. “How about you grab us another couple of biscuits from the kitchen, Liam?”
Liam looked between us, his sharp mind clearly knowing that we wanted to talk without him. But he grudgingly agreed and headed out.
Douglas leaned forwards, just like his son did when he had something to say, and I held back a smile at their similarities. “None of the kids die, do they?” Douglas asked quietly. “Just, I think he’s pretty good with most things. Kids his age are less sheltered than people think-”
I pulled back. “Nothing like that, no. There are some threats and danger, of course, but not like that.”
Douglas looked relieved and nodded. “Excellent, that sounds like a winner, then.”
Liam came back inside, the plate now loaded up with the chocolate bourbon biscuits I knew he liked best. My wife had noticed, too, and she’d picked up a new packet in preparation for Liam coming over.
Stuffing a biscuit in his mouth, Liam chewed quickly before looking at me. “So? The story?”
I chuckled at his keenness and nodded. “Yes, we’ll get to the story now.”
Liam smiled in satisfaction and pulled his laptop onto his lap, getting ready to take his notes as he listened with rapt attention.
Feeling mildly self-conscious at having an audience of two this time, I took a moment to consider where to start before nodding to myself and beginning.
One
His phone in hand, Stephen turned to me as I was walking over. “Darren, we’ve got a new one.”
I had a steaming mug in each hand and put them down on our desks before sitting down. “Go on then,” I told him. “Lay it on me.”
Stephen, the senior DI on my team for nearly six months now, shot me a faintly amused look before sobering. “They’ve found someone kept prisoner in a house near Tang Hall.”
My stomach dropped. “No way,” I said faintly.
Stephen nodded, his lips pressed together into a thin line. He had a face like a weathered rugby captain, with a crooked nose to boot, and he looked particularly foreboding when he wasn’t smiling. But I knew that he was just troubled by the news, as was I. This was something far more serious than petty theft, parking fines and drunk and disorderly behaviour, which was the station’s bread and butter.
We’d had a quiet few months after the heavy case at the end of last year, and it had been pleasant to have a breather for a while, before the quietness had started to get on my nerves.
“Who’s heading the investigation?” I asked, tentatively hopeful.
He sent me a knowing look, aware of how much I’d been champing at the bit recently. “You, mate. They want us over there ASAP. Gaskell’s out today, but he’s been told and put you in charge.”
“Probably just because Sedgwick is busy,” I muttered, before brightening. “Gaskell’s finally decided to move us off desk duty, then.”
Stephen shook his head. “After the hits you took last year, most people would take it as a sign from the heavens, or fate, or whatever, and settled into a quieter job.”
I rolled my eyes, already gathering my coat and keys. “Rubbish,” I said. “Are you ready?”
He sent me a look that was both faintly exasperated and fond, which was a look he sent me on a fairly regular basis. “Yeah, I’m ready. Hold your horses, tiger.”
“You’ve mixed your sayings there,” I couldn’t help but point out as we headed down the stairs and out into the cool air of new spring. We’d passed the shortest day of the year by a way, but winter hadn’t completely been shaken off yet, and there was still a crispness to the morning.
We hopped in the car, and I didn’t protest Stephen driving, even though he had a tendency to wheel us around corners without once touching the brake pedal. He knew the address of where we were heading, though, so I sat back and held onto the handle above the car window.
I felt almost guilty for the low buzz of anticipation zipping through me, making me bounce my leg and fidget with the radio.
Stephen reached out and slapped my hand, startling me.
“Ow!” I protested. “What was that for?”
“Stop fiddling with the radio, for christ’s sake. You’ve been through like, ten stations in the last minute. Sit on your hands or something, you goddamn toddler.”
I snorted and gave a huff before sitting back to look out of the windows at the sight of the city rushing past. Some days, I missed the rural greenery and familiar sights of my old, countryside position, but I certainly didn’t miss the winding lanes, nor the policing that tended more towards settling neighbour’s arguments over garden gnomes than the double murder that had been my last case. However, I’d dealt with murder in the countryside, too. You got crime everywhere there were people, and I didn’t regret my decision to delve into the thick of it, here in York, considered a relatively safe city.
Stephen pulled up outside a suburban house that would have looked entirely ordinary if it wasn’t for the police tape ringing the outside, the police car, ambulance, and a crowd of curious onlookers gathered outside.
The clustered civilians looked curiously over at us as Stephen and I got out of the car. We shared a look across the roof. People could be so damn nosy, and it made our jobs harder, but it would’ve been a waste of energy to drive them away, they’d end up back again like flies drawn to jam. The news would be here soon, too, no doubt.
“Is the- person they found okay?” I asked, realising I didn’t know anything about the person who was the victim of all this. Stephen hadn’t shared many details.
Stephen sent me a look. “I heard alive, but that was it. I’m not sure why the ambulance is still here, to be honest.”
I shut the car door, and we made our way through. I let Stephen go ahead, with his bulk and scary face parting even the nosiest neighbours. I had a couple of inches on him, but where I was wiry and long-limbed, only enhanced by my running, Stephen was as broad as the side of a shed, and people parted quickly to let him through.
The two DCs originally sent out to investigate the issue met us.
I nodded to the woman, who introduced h
erself as DC Martin. “What’s the situation here?”
She took a breath. When she ran a hand through her hair, I saw it shaking slightly, though her face was stiff with professionalism. “We were told that there’d been strange noises coming from the houses, and that the neighbour was concerned about the occupant.”
“Why was that?” I queried.
DC Martin focused on me. “She said the lights weren’t going on at night, the bins not being put out, that kind of thing, but she knew that there was someone inside because she heard shouting a couple of times. She said she tried knocking on the door, but no one answered.”
I frowned and nodded, indicating for her to continue.
“The boy is still inside,” she said, her mouth twisting into a frown. “We’re not sure who he is yet, he hasn’t talked much.”
I felt immediately sick. “Boy?” I repeated. “As in, a child?”
She gave me a small nod. “He’s a teenager, yes, I’d guess anywhere from fifteen to eighteen. He’s severely malnourished. They’re trying to get him into the ambulance, but he’s scared.”
I made a noise of acknowledgement and shared a grim look with Stephen, who looked just as upset as I was.
I cleared my throat. “Any ideas for why he was here? Who put him here?” I clarified.
She grimaced, running a hand through her short, dark hair again. “Afraid not. We’re taking statements from the neighbours, but there’s not-” She broke off, looking over my shoulder, and I turned around.
There was a stretcher being carried out of the house, and I swallowed thickly. The boy was mostly wrapped up in an aluminium foil blanket, but his pale face and a tuft of hair were visible.
“They must have sedated him,” DC Martin said quietly.
“Aye.”
We were all silent for a minute, and so were the crowd of people still ogling. I felt a rush of irritation at them all, stood there gawking when it was none of their business.
DI Mitchell Yorkshire Crime Thrillers: Book 1-3 Page 49
