Give Me War - Kate McCarthy Page 0,16
is hard as he leans over the counter. “Answer the question.”
“I’m not—”
Mitch appears, flashing his badge.
“Oh Jesus.” Theo visibly blanches and steps backwards. “I told them not to do it. I—”
“Do what?” Mitch barks.
“The iPad. I t-told them not to t-take it, but the car was unlocked and they—”
“Step around from the counter,” Kelly orders him, done with all the bullshit. “You’re comin’ with us.”
“Oh Jesus,” he moans again and sways as if he’s about to keel over.
“We just need you to answer some questions,” Mitch interjects before the kid passes out.
The four of us take him out front, passing irate customers, until we get him in a huddle out of earshot. I try again. “What time did you start work this morning?”
His gaze shoots around the four of us, his shoulders hunching as if he’s trying to shrink away from our size and the tension emanating from our bodies. “A-about five, I think.”
I scroll through the photos of my phone until I reach a picture of Evie’s Hilux. I hold it up. “You see this car?”
Theo takes a look. “I see it often. The girl is a regular.”
I go through more photos until I reach one of my wife, just weeks old. She’s sitting on our lounge, Wolf in her lap. My kid is asleep and she’s just woken from a nap, her eyes lazy and her cheeks warm and pink. My whole world is right there in that image and for a moment my finger shakes on the screen of my phone, my gut churning. I take a breath and hold up the image. “This girl?”
Theo looks at it. “Y-yes. That’s her.” He breathes out as I tuck the phone away. “Why? What happened? Is she okay?” He looks around at all of us before coming back to me. “This isn’t about an iPad, is it? She’s the singer with Jamieson, isn’t she? Evie? She comes in for coffee all the time. She always loads the tip jar.”
“Did you see her today?” Mitch barks. “This morning?”
He nods and swallows. “Y-yeah. She showed. I always keep my eye out for her. It’s like the highlight of my day. She’s a total babe.
My nostrils flare. “She’s my wife.”
Theo shrinks back from me. “I never hit on her. She’s always with some other dude though. Better looking one than you, man. Sorry.” He glances at Kelly. “Looks a lot like you actually, except with shorter hair,” he says, and I know he’s referring to Casey.
I resist the urge to punch him by folding my arms.
“Did you see her leave?” Kelly barks.
He shakes his head. “No, man. We were swamped.”
“You hear bikes?”
Theo shrugs. “Always bikes around here. Is she okay?”
Mitch looks to me. “Kid’s a bust.”
My chest is tight with frustration as the four of us abandon him on the sidewalk, moving to the next shop. “It’ll be quicker if we all split up.”
“I’m the only one here with a badge,” Mitch reminds me.
“Wait!” the kid calls out.
We all pause and turn.
“There’s an art shop three doors down. They got broken into ‘bout six or so weeks ago. Stepped up their security. They got cameras.”
“Thanks, kid.”
My phone rings as we step inside the gallery. “Travis,” I answer, and hear the growl of his car come through the phone. I glance across the road towards the beach parking lot. They’re all climbing inside their cars, peeling off.
“We’re heading to the office. Seth is already there. We’re going to make a start on pinpointing all known bases for the Vipers. I spoke to Dad,” he adds. “He’s already got cops checking on the CCTV footage around the area. He’s going to co-ordinate a team alongside Alan.”
“Keep us updated.”
I’m hanging up as their vehicles drive down the street, a thunderous procession of bikes and fast cars.
Alan is Chief Superintendent Rossiter. He’s not only my father’s best friend, he’s a big deal. I’m not surprised dad called him in. My father does not fuck around, and Mitch clearly learned from the best because moments after flashing his badge we were in the stark-white back office of the art gallery, our eyes on their external camera footage.
“There!” I bark and Mitch slows the speed of the video. It’s Evie pulling into the parking lot. My heart thunders in my chest as she climbs out of the car. The image is grainy and black and white, but there’s no mistaking the Hilux or that long dark mane of hair. I swipe a hand across my face, holding it