Danny walked through the woods to the City training ground, avoiding the roads and any chance of being seen. He lifted his feet over exposed roots, ducking beneath great trails of ivy that came down from the trees and wondered if he was becoming paranoid, thinking that people would be looking for him. He’d been so freaked out by being trapped in the house with Wire that he knew he was bound to be feeling extra sensitive.
He had read some of the contents of the file. Papers about City FC, meaning Wire had known what he was looking for. Even if there didn’t seem to be anyone living there right now, perhaps this house was something to do with the football club. Most of the papers had been legal documents that he had struggled to make sense of. Especially in an unlit loft space. But one sheet had struck him as particularly strange. A letter on headed paper – Forza FC headed paper. Written in Italian.
What had that been about? What could City possibly have to do with Forza FC?
Perhaps he shouldn’t have hidden the papers in the loft. His thinking had been that he should not leave the house with them. That would have made him a burglar. So he had left them.
Now he was starting to wish he’d taken the risk. He needed to talk to someone. To help him arrange his thoughts.
He called Charlotte.
‘Hey Danny.’
‘Hi. Do you want to go and watch Kofi play this afternoon?’
‘Yeah, OK, that would be good.’
‘I’m going there now,’ Danny said. ‘It starts in an hour or so.’
‘I’ll see you there.’
Danny loved the uncomplicated way Charlotte would just do things. Lots of other people had to make things difficult and try to change simple plans. But Charlotte seemed to be free of all that.
*
The City FC training facility was buzzing when Danny got there.
Coming along in a car you wouldn’t think there was anything much there. It was just a long road bordered by trees and overgrown patches of land. And if you were driving quickly you could miss the small sign:
Danny came to the academy from the woods at the other side of the road. A large coach arrived and turned as he emerged. He noticed the logo on the front. Manchester United. It was the Man U under-eighteens squad arriving for the game. Some of the best under-eighteen footballers in the world. Danny smiled. He would love to see City beat this lot. And he was looking forward to seeing Kofi play too.
He brushed himself down, aware that he would look strange turning up with leaves and twigs in his hair and on his clothes.
The academy looked amazing. Danny could see the distinctive wood and glass front from the road now. He had never been here before, but he’d seen pictures of it on the club website.
He walked through the gates, following in the wake of the Man U coach.
To his right there was a car park and the wood-fronted building, to his left indoor pitches inside steel-framed buildings that looked like a posh sports centre to Danny. Danny looked again to his right to see a large number of people stood around in the foyer. And, as he stared, one of them emerged from the group, a young man with dark hair and a black jacket, making his way to Danny.
Holt. Anton Holt. And he was smiling.
‘Danny. It’s good to see you.’ Holt looked smart, freshly shaved, which wasn’t always the case.
They shook hands. Danny and Holt always shook hands. Danny took it as a sign that Holt respected him, didn’t treat him like a child. And a sign that things were OK between them. That Holt still trusted him.
‘Have you heard?’ Holt asked.
‘About Wire?’
‘Yeah.’ Holt paused, narrowing his eyes. ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ he said. ‘You’re the teenager the police were looking for.’
Danny nodded. ‘I was there,’ he admitted. But he knew this was as far as his confession would go. Holt was his friend above all: they had been through too much together. He felt bad for having him down as a suspect but he knew Holt wouldn’t have judged him for this even if he knew.
Then Holt held his hand up to stop Danny. Other journalists were nearby now. They might overhear.
‘So what do you know?’ Danny asked Holt.
‘Wire was arrested outside a house about two miles from here. He was breaking in. Some sort of alarm went off. They got him easily. And, apparently, he confessed to being the football burglar. Some people on the street overheard him.’
‘So he claimed it’s him?’ Danny asked.
‘Yeah,’ Holt said. ‘It’s all finished. He’ll confess. He’ll plead guilty. End of story.’
Danny nodded. He didn’t want to say anything, but he wasn’t 100% sure of the story. It was too easy. But there were too many other people about to raise his doubts with Holt. And he wasn’t sure it was the right time.
‘But there’s more,’ another voice said.
‘This is Sam,’ Anton said to Danny, gesturing to a tall blond man with a cheesy smile. ‘He writes for footballgossip.com.’
‘Hi,’ Sam said, looking closely at Danny.
‘Hello.’
‘More … what?’ Holt said. ‘The boy?’
‘Yes,’ Sam said. ‘Wire has claimed there was a teenager in the house. About your age, son. And some other people who live round there say they saw him too.’
‘What? He was Wire’s accomplice?’ Danny asked, trying to deflect the idea that he was the same age as the spotted boy. Sam obviously hadn’t heard Danny confess to Holt.
‘No,’ Sam answered. ‘No. It’s not clear. But Wire denied that. Apparently he said he was responsible for the burglaries alone.’
‘How do you know that?’ Danny asked, still trying to sound like he was an innocent boy and not someone with a lot more invested in finding out more. Still aware that Sam was looking at him closely. Thinking that this other journalist recognized Danny from the photo fit. And it all came back to him. Before the house. Before the panic room. The fact that a photo fit of a boy looking just like Danny was plastered all over the city. Danny wondered whether he should talk it through with Holt. Once he got him on his own.
‘Secret sources,’ Sam said, tapping his nose. Then his eyes skipped over Danny’s head as he watched someone behind Danny.
Danny and Holt looked round.
Charlotte was walking towards them. She waved.
‘Has it started?’ she asked, brushing against Danny.
‘Not yet,’ Danny replied.
Charlotte saw Holt. ‘Hi Anton. How are you?’
But just then Holt’s phone went off. He glanced at the screen and held his hand up, merely nodding at Charlotte. Danny knew that meant this was private and watched the journalist walk away from them. Sam, the other journalist, had drifted away too.
‘Was it something I said?’ Charlotte joked.
‘Probably,’ Danny smiled. ‘Listen, there’s a bit of time to go before kick-off.’ Danny pointed at the empty playing fields ahead of them. Several pitches, side by side, all perfectly groomed and green, pitches that would have looked great in a Premier League stadium. There was a small stall selling cups of tea and hot dogs. ‘Shall we get a drink?’
‘So run through it again,’ Charlotte said, once Danny had detailed the morning’s events. ‘You were in the house when Wire got arrested?’
Danny nodded. As they’d had their drinks – Coke for Danny, water for Charlotte – he had told her about his morning.
‘But he didn’t see you?’
‘No, he did. Before I found the panic room.’
‘Did he recognize you?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you got away? And he got arrested.’ Charlotte smiled. ‘So it’s all OK now.’
‘Sort of,’ Danny said. There were things in his mind that he’d not worked out.
Charlotte’s smile faded. ‘What?’ she asked.
‘I’m just not sure about Wire. I know Holt put us on to him. And I know he was there. But he wasn’t in the house for money. He wanted those papers. And when he knew he couldn’t have the papers, he went crazy. Crazy enough to stay and try to get me, which led to him getting caught. He could have escaped.’ Danny was beginning to wish he hadn’t left the files at the house – to wish he’d spent longer looking at them.
‘So?’
‘So he wasn’t stealing money and valuables like the other robberies. It was like he was there for a different reason,’ Danny said, pausing. ‘And I’ve read about burglars. They don’t change like that. It’s almost as if Wire was two different kinds of burglar. Which is why I’m not sure he is the one who burgled the other houses.’
‘Well I am,’ Charlotte said, draining her bottle of water. ‘Look, here come the players.’