Jimmy Coates: Killer

“Oh.” Jimmy wondered how come two kids had been able to run faster and further than any of the men.

“So, are you going?” Mitchell jerked his head to one side, indicating the park.

“I need your help.”

“Yeah right. What for?”

“I just need you to take me to the police station.”

“What?” Mitchell laughed again, but it was more nervous this time. “You want me to go with you to the police station so you can tell them to arrest me? Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No, not so they can arrest you. You don’t have to come in with me, but I need to get away from those men.”

“Why should I help you? I already saved you from them.”

“What?”

“I saved you from those men. They were going to catch you but I stopped them.”

“You didn’t stop them. I escaped.”

“Yeah, I did. You don’t know. You couldn’t see.” Mitchell jumped from foot to foot, half from cold and half from restlessness. Jimmy knew he was lying. It was pretty obvious. He didn’t want to argue, though. He wanted to get moving before the men found him again.

“OK, whatever. Thanks,” Jimmy sighed. “So because you saved me, I won’t tell them you tried to steal my bag. But you still have to take me to the police station. Unless you want my foot in your neck again.” He had never threatened anyone like that before, and he didn’t like how it felt, though he could see from Mitchell’s expression it was going to work.

“Why don’t you phone them? Get out your mobile.” Mitchell thought he was being clever. His brother would be impressed if he snatched a mobile.

“I don’t have one. What about a phone box?” said Jimmy, completely unaware that the truth had saved him from another attempt at robbery.

“Whatever. Come on, then. Let’s go.”

Mitchell and Jimmy walked through the park in awkward silence. Mitchell stayed a couple of steps ahead of Jimmy. He was used to walking alone and didn’t like the feeling of accompanying someone. He dug his hands in his pockets and ignored the boy next to him.

Jimmy dragged along behind. It had been a very long night and it wasn’t over yet. He longed to shut his eyes and find himself back in his bed, waking up from a bad dream. His parents would be there, so would Georgie, and everything would be fine–perhaps better than before. No arguments, and definitely no men in suits.

As they climbed through some bent railings in the park fence, Jimmy shot out a question just to break the silence. “What school do you go to?”

Mitchell grimaced. “Leave me alone.”

“Oh.” Jimmy waited a second then tried again. “Hey, thanks.”

“What?” This time Mitchell turned to look at Jimmy.

“Thanks for showing me the way. I was lost. What’s your name again?”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Mitchell sneered. “I should have beaten your head in.”

“You didn’t though, did you?” Jimmy felt braver now. Compared to suited men in black cars, Mitchell was a lot less scary than he might have been. “I’ve forgotten your name,” Jimmy said.

“It’s Mitchell. But we’re not friends, so you can forget it again.”

“I’m Jimmy.”

“I know. Jimmy the idiot.”

Jimmy just smiled. Being called an idiot didn’t seem to matter any more. He didn’t mind that Mitchell didn’t want to talk; he was just relieved to have someone taking him in the right direction. And he might have been wrong, but he thought for a second that he saw a smile creep on to Mitchell’s face.

They stopped on a corner.

“It’s down here on the right,” Mitchell muttered.

“Wait there,” ordered Jimmy, straining to see if the police station was there. He kept Mitchell in the corner of his eye, just in case. “How do I know I can trust you?” he said at last.

“You don’t.” Mitchell shook his head in exasperation. “Look, it’s down there, OK? I’m not taking you any closer. I’m not your mum. So believe me or don’t, I don’t care. I’m going home.” He turned his back on Jimmy and started walking away. He was braced for a fight, expecting Jimmy to pounce on his back. He tried to walk casually.

All Jimmy could see were the shadows. He scoured the scene for anything that looked suspicious. But everything looked suspicious. Any parked car could be concealing more men in suits, lying in wait for Jimmy. He didn’t want Mitchell to leave. The company was comforting.

“Thanks again,” Jimmy whispered.

Mitchell didn’t look round. Instead, he stuck his hand up in the air and held it there for a moment, then he broke into a jog and was gone. Jimmy’s heart sank. He was alone again.

CHAPTER FIVE – FACE OF A FOE (#ulink_b1d1b0c3-c524-54e2-9ed8-c057880d72e5)

THERE IT WAS. Hardly a hundred metres from where Jimmy had been hesitating, the police station sat like a comforting smile washed in blue light. It was set back from the road slightly, which is why he hadn’t seen it from the corner. Now he ran through the door like it was home.

He rushed through the brightly-lit lobby up to the desk. There was no one else in there except for the officer behind the desk, and another sitting on a bench by the door, nursing a bloody nose and holding an ice-pack to his forehead. Jimmy threw a glance at him, but the officer looked away hurriedly and pretended to read the notice boards.

“Hello, son. Can I help you?” said the officer behind the desk. He spoke in a deep voice that sounded friendly to Jimmy, but at the same time a little scary. Maybe that was because it was coming from a man who was well over six feet tall. Jimmy had never actually spoken to a policeman before. His words troubled over each other, confusing his tongue. He didn’t know where to begin.

“My parents…I was in my house…these men came…they chased me, but that was later…I don’t know…and my sister, but…” Then Jimmy stopped because he realised he was crying. He let the tears come like warm comfort on his chilled face. The fluorescent lights blurred in his eyes and the huge policeman came round to Jimmy’s side of the desk.

“That’s all right, Jimmy. Come and sit down.” At the sound of his name, Jimmy immediately tensed up again and stopped crying. He felt the officer’s huge hand on the top of his head. It guided him gently but firmly to the bench.

“I’m Sergeant Atkinson,” said the policeman. He was limping, but trying not to show it. Jimmy had to step over a fire extinguisher that was lying on the floor, and push past a small table. “That shouldn’t be there, sorry,” said the sergeant as he bent down. With one strong arm he snatched up the fire extinguisher, setting it upright next to the door.

The policeman with the blood all over his face stood up as soon as Jimmy sat down. He went past the desk and pushed through the doors, out of sight.

“How do you know my name?” Jimmy’s voice was meek, quiet.

“Your neighbours called and told us everything that happened.”

“Mr Higgins?”

“No, Mr and Mrs Bourne.”

Jimmy didn’t know the neighbours on the other side. He had never even seen them. There was usually a car in the driveway, like there was in every driveway, but he had never seen anybody coming or going.

“Why didn’t you go round to them for help when it all happened?” said Sergeant Atkinson.