Danny woke up the next morning when he heard his sister on the phone.
It was weird his parents being away. None of the usual noises of the house were there. His dad making tea first thing. His mum going off to work, flustered and grumpy. These were the noises he had heard all his life. Without them everything felt strange. Very strange.
He looked at the clock.
9.06 a.m.
That was even stranger. When was the last time he’d slept in past nine o’clock? He couldn’t remember.
Danny lifted his head off his pillow to try to hear what his sister was saying. He was still suspicious of who she’d been on the phone to last night.
It was pretty obvious really: she had a new boyfriend.
This could often happen when she was seeing someone new. She’d be all cheery and nice. Before it all went wrong. Before the latest boy found out how mean Emily was.
But Danny had to admit to himself that he’d never seen her this cheery. It was more serious than normal. He just hoped she would stay happy at least until their parents got back.
Danny gave up trying to eavesdrop on her and flicked the radio on. He wanted to hear what City FC’s manager had to say about the defeat at Real Madrid, to hear something positive, to make him believe they could get past the Spanish Champions: ‘… police are investigating the burglary of another City FC player …’
Danny sat up in his bed. He was wide awake now. The report went on: ‘… yesterday night, while the French international Didier François was playing in City’s defeat at Real Madrid, his house was broken into and items were stolen. A thirty-seven-year-old security guard was arrested at the scene, but was later released without charge.
‘The player, who is returning from Spain today, has written on his Twitter site of his shock. “But at least there was nobody of my family at home,” he posted.
‘This is a reference to the previous burglary of City player Juan Goytisolo, whose wife and two children were forced to flee their home when burgled during City’s last European away game in Marseille.
‘Police say they have a lead. A young man or boy, aged between fourteen and eighteen, was seen in the area of François’s property. They are putting together a photo fit that will be published in the Evening Post later today …’
Danny flicked off the radio once the reporter went on to cover other news stories.
What was this?
He felt as if his blood had stopped running through his veins.
François burgled?
A boy aged between fourteen and eighteen seen near the player’s house?
A photo fit going to be published?
What if it was him? What if the security guard had thought he was the burglar? He could easily think that. Had the house been burgled by the time Danny arrived?
Danny’s mind was swimming with fears.
Whether they thought he was involved in the burglary or not, he had been there on the night the player had been robbed. So he had been near the burglar. Possibly.
Danny cursed. That was the other thing. If he had been close to the burglar, he had been close to solving the crimes.
On the other hand, if he had been close to the burglar, he had also been close to danger.
And what about the security guard mentioned on the radio report? Why had he been arrested? Then released? Was it the same security guard he had seen in the woods?
A knock on the door shocked Danny out of his thoughts.
‘Morning.’ It was Emily. Carrying a tray and smiling sweetly. ‘Breakfast?’
What was this? Breakfast in bed?
He knew something very strange was going on now. Danny spoke calmly. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.
‘Nothing. What do you mean?’ Emily smiled again. ‘I’m just looking after you, now Mum and Dad are away.’
‘Do you want something?’ Danny said, persisting. He was confused. He couldn’t work out why his sister, who was normally horrible to him, was now being nicer than nice. Too nice. Even if she was all loved up.
He watched her make a mock-offended face, then smile again.
‘I’m looking after you,’ she said.
He sat up and she placed the tray on his legs. Cereal. Croissant. Juice. Tea. Yoghurt.
Danny wished he wasn’t so tense about the burglaries. He would have really enjoyed this normally. It might never happen again.
‘Thanks,’ Danny said.
‘You’re welcome,’ Emily replied, making to leave.
‘Who phoned?’ Danny asked quickly, trying to catch his sister off guard. In one of the crime series he read to his dad, the detective always asked a key question of one of his suspects when they were just about to leave the room, when they thought they’d got away with it.
Emily stopped, her face turned away from him.
‘No one,’ she said.
‘No one?’
‘Just a friend, I mean.’
Danny nodded as he watched his sister disappear out of the door.
After he’d eaten breakfast in bed, Danny lay there, trying to work out what to do if the photo fit was of him. What if it was? What did that mean? Would someone he knew call the police and say it was Danny, then the police would come round? Or would one of the police who arrested him a few weeks before identify him and call him into the police station? Or would it look like any one of a hundred boys from the city, and would people laugh and say it looked like him, not realizing it was him?
Danny reached for his mobile. He’d had three texts already that morning.
One was from Charlotte. His friend.
Wanna meet? C x
That meant Charlotte was free. He’d go and see her at some point. They’d seen a lot of each other this holiday. Especially as his best mate, Paul, was away with his mum and dad.
The next text was from Anton:
Danny resolved to call Holt later. He must want to talk.
The third text was from Kofi. It was a reply to his email from the night before.
Yes. I am free later today. Would you like to meet this afternoon, Danny? From Kofi
Danny jumped out of bed. He had to get on. Call Holt. Meet Kofi and Charlotte.
But most of all, he had to find out if the photo fit about to be plastered across town was of him.