“He could have been holding a grudge against you, then.” Stephen looked over at me, and I gave a nod of agreement.
“And Alistair?” I prompted him quietly. Diana and Adrian didn’t turn towards me, so I presumed that they hadn’t heard. Stephen went back to his phone and brought up a picture of the missing fourteen-year-old.
“And this boy, do you recognise him?”
“No, I- Oh no, I do,” Diana said thoughtfully. “He’s been on the news, hasn’t he?”
“Yes. But before that, have you seen him anywhere else? Does he go to Rowan Wood, too?”
“I don’t work there anymore, dear. I couldn’t say.”
Adrian made an effort to squint at the picture, borrowing his wife’s glasses to see if they’d help.
“I don’t believe I know him, but there are many children at the school. If he’s an average student and stayed out of trouble, I might well not recognise him.”
“Okay, thank you,” Stephen said, putting his phone away. “We really appreciate you speaking to us. Have you got someone you can stay with after you leave the hospital?”
“Yes, one of my nieces is coming to pick us up,” Diana said, giving Stephen a small, warm smile. “Thank you for asking, detective.”
“I hope you both recover quickly,” he said, accepting Adrian’s handshake when he offered. He gave them a business card in case they recalled anything that could help us before he bid them goodbye, and we walked away.
“Revenge motivated then,” I said as we moved down the corridor. Stephen had shortened his stride to accommodate for me walking slower than usual, and I appreciated it.
“Presumably,” he agreed.
My phone rang in my pocket as we were leaving the hospital, and I picked up the call as we walked over towards the car. I didn’t recognise the number.
“DCI Mitchell speaking.” There was a long pause, and I frowned. “Hello?”
“It’s Mickey.”
I blinked, startled enough that I came to a stop, and Stephen sent me a curious look.
“Mickey, hi,” I said cautiously. “Are you alright?”
“I was gonna ask you that,” Mickey said with a tight laugh. “I heard that they beat you up. I didn’t know, I swear.”
It hadn’t occurred to me to consider that Mickey might’ve known about the attack, although perhaps it should have. I tentatively hoped that him being in touch, and wanting to reassure himself that I was fine, was a good sign that he was still on our side.
“I believe you. How come you haven’t been in touch recently?” I had to ask.
“I guess- I guess I got worried they’d find out, y’know…”
“Aye, I understand. Can we rely on you in the future, though?”
“Yeah,” he said, somewhat hesitant, but it was agreement all the same. “Yeah, I’ll answer next time if I can.”
“Thank you.”
He mumbled a goodbye and hung up just as I was getting into the car. The whole conversation had taken moments, but it left me feeling renewed, despite my lingering aches and pains.
“Mickey’s back on,” I told Stephen. “He says he’ll report back to us next time.”
“Hm.” Stephen looked unconvinced, and I knew he doubted how much we could trust the lad. “I just hope the reports he gives us are worth it.”
I turned to look out the window as Stephen started the car up.
“Aye, so do I.”
The fire set at the Doodes’ house had been a significantly more serious crime than previously, as had the attack on me that had been so planned and choreographed.
Whatever help we could get at this point, I would take. We needed to find these teenagers before they cost someone their life.
Sixteen
Despite Mickey’s promise to keep us informed, he didn’t get in touch the following day, when I was resting up at home, nor on the Friday.
“You should not be at work,” Stephen grumbled at me when I turned up.
“I’m absolutely fine to sit in a chair and look at a computer screen,” I told him firmly. “Have we got any news?”
“Nope, exactly zilch.”
I’d clicked open my emails as he was speaking and snapped my fingers.
“That’s where you’re wrong. Keira wants to talk to us.”
“You think she’s found something?”
“We can only hope.”
I’d brought more of the iced coffee Sam had made into work and carried a mug over to see Keira. Walking around was still sore on my ribs and shoulder, but it was getting better, and the bruising on my face no longer looked quite so scarily dramatic.
Keira was sitting at her desk when we went over to her and barely glanced up before she started talking, still typing on her computer.
“I’ve located the new messaging site where they’re talking. It was under a level of encryption again, honestly quite impressive.” She spared us a glance. “Do any of the teens have a tech background?”
“Not that we know of.” I shrugged. “We’ll look into it.”
“I’ve sent you a link to it. The same usernames seem to be on there, with the same VPNs, so it’s a good bet to guess that it’s the right one.”
“You’re not a hundred per cent?”
Keira gave me an unimpressed look. “No. Contrary to popular belief, I can’t hack their webcams and look into their rooms. But it’s correct to the point of reasonable doubt. Is that good enough for you, Mitchell?”
“More than good enough,” I said, apologetic for doubting her. “Thanks, we appreci-”
“I know. Where would you be without me? Now scoot.” She flicked us away.
I shook my head with a smile, and Stephen and I left her to her work. We scoured over the message board she’d found, scrolling through the messages that’d been posted.
“It seems like the same teenagers,” Stephen concluded. “Some of them have the same phrases, writing style.”
“Aye, and the usernames are in the same vein.”
“There’s nothing new here, though.” He pulled a face, and I made a noise of agreement.
“Right. They’re talking trouble, but there're no plans, nothing to put into action.”
My swollen nose was aching, and I prodded the bruising under my eyes tentatively. It was certainly better,
