Chapter Fifty-Six – Mitchell
MITCHELL
Climbing back into the car, I shut the door behind me, and I pull my latex gloves off my hands, rolling them inside each other and shove them into a plastic bag to discard later, before closing the car door behind me.
“Well?” Charlie asks when I reach into the footwell, grabbing his laptop without speaking.
“He’s not ho-” my response cuts off as the silver Volkswagen parks in the driveway, the driver leaning over the back and grabbing something before he gets out, his hands loaded with grocery bags.
“Well, that was nice timing,” Charlie mutters, and I grunt out an agreement, watching the guy kick his door shut behind him with his foot and make his way toward the front door.
I’m about to start the car up so we can go when my phone starts ringing. Pulling it out, I quickly answer the call. “Billy,” I greet, putting it on loudspeaker, just in time for Charlie to catch the light-hearted scoff he makes.
“You know I go by William now. Or Will. I haven’t gone by Billy since I was sixteen.” Indeed. It’s hard not to picture the scrawny teenager he was when one of my jobs lead me to a drug dealer who often took payment in forms other than money.
When I tracked the fucker down, he was in Billy’s home, his drug addict mother letting her dealer take his payment from her son just so she could get her fix.
I shake my head, clearing the image and force my grip to loosen from the steering wheel. He’s now married with a one-year-old son and works as a mechanic, saving up to own his own shop. Last time I checked, he wasn’t too far off his goal either. A far cry from a child or teenager.
“Right. Sorry. William-” I correct, smiling at the huff that comes through the line at my emphasis. “-were you able to drive passed the house?”
“Yeah, I just got to work. There wasn’t a car parked out front but there was one in the garage.” The way he says it has me narrowing my eyes.
“And how would you know that if all you did was drive passed?” I grit out. I specifically told him only to drive passed. The last thing I need is one of this guy’s neighbours calling the cops on him for breaking and entering.
“Wanna know what I found, or not?” I asks instead of answering and I shake my head.
Sighing, I rub my hand over the smooth skin on the top of my head. “What did you find?”
“There was a bunch of mail in his letterbox. Don’t think anyone has been home for a while.” Something we already knew. “And the lock on the garage door was busted. The licence plates on the car gone too.”
“That’s it.” Charlie sits up, focusing on the phone in my hand. “That’s it, right? They’ve been overseas for two weeks and aren’t due back for another week. No one home to report the break in or stolen plates. As long as they put them back on and fix the lock on the door, they’ll never know.”
I’m inclined to agree with him, even if I hate that Billy risked himself to get the information.
“Who is that?”
I look at Charlie, searching for the right word to describe him before finally settling on, “My partner.”
“I thought you worked alone?” he asks suspiciously, spitting my own words from years ago back at me. Words I only told him because he was a sixteen-year-old kid that was determined to be my 'sidekick'.
Despite what he believes, I don't work alone. I have a list of people I work with, a team if you will. People I trust to turn over care of the people I help. They just don’t know who they’re working with, not enough to identify me anyway. Well, except for Mark.
“Not a business partner.”
“No shit? I didn’t realise you were gay. Honestly, it explains a few things,” he teases, and I let out a chuckle, shaking my head.
I guess twenty-four isn’t quite old enough to grow out of that shit stirring attitude I recall him having once he came out of his shell. “Hanging up now,” I say.
“Hey, love is love I always sa-” I hit the end call button before he can finish, a fond smile on my face as I send him a text, thanking him for his help only to receive a rainbow love heart in return.
And he wonders why I still call him Billy.
“So, is that our next stop then?” I shake my head, nothing we find there will be useful right now.
“No. We have a retired coroner to visit.” I'm much more interested in what he has to say right now than a car with no plates sitting in a garage.