Page 28 of The Girl in the Woods

Needles shook his head. ‘Nah.’

They went back into the house, where Luke tried again to question Jim, but he had no idea about a bike or a garage. It seemed he now couldn’t remember anything about that evening.

Luke turned back to the young lad who had now ensconced himself on the couch next to Jim. They were both staring at the drama on the TV screen.

‘If you hear anything again, Colin, call the station,’ he said.

‘Sure,’ replied Needles.

‘I’ll forget I saw that bat, but should I ever see you with it again, I’ll arrest you. Do you understand?’

Needles shrugged. ‘Whatever.’

Luke hesitated.

‘You won’t get a statement out of him,’ said Needles. ‘If that’s what you’re waiting for.’

Luke nodded and quietly let himself out. Needles heard the door close, and his mind drifted from the television to The Vigilante. Who the fuck was he?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The coach driver from Saturday night was reluctant to go to the police. He’d never been in trouble with the law. He’d never been inside a police station before, until today. He had spent his life staying on the right side of the law and even feared being called for jury duty. Keep your nose down was his motto, but he’d had to report the broken radio to his boss.

‘We need to report it,’ his boss had said. ‘For the insurance claim, you understand. It’ll come up at the next meeting. There’ll be safety discussions for our drivers, and if we say we didn’t report it because we were afraid of a few thugs… well, you can imagine. It’s also likely that some passengers have reported it, so we can’t waste time.’

‘Why can’t you report it?’ he’d asked his boss.

‘I wasn’t there, was I, Alan?’

It was the right thing to do. Alan knew that. So here he was, Tuesday morning, sitting on a hard chair in the police station waiting room. Then, glancing again at the clock on the wall, he realised he’d been there for fifteen minutes already, and his nerves were leaving him. If someone didn’t come soon, he’d leg it. At that moment, unfortunately for Alan, a female police officer walked in. God, they get younger by the day, he thought.

‘Hello, sir, I’m DC Rawlins. How can I help?’

‘Well, it’s nothing really,’ said Alan, trying to play it down. ‘My boss wanted me to come as a matter of routine.’

‘Can I get you tea or coffee?’

‘Oh no, I doubt I’ll be here that long.’

‘Come through,’ she said, smiling, and he followed her into an interview room. ‘Can I take your name?’

Alan hesitated for a second. ‘Alan Mitchell.’

‘So, why has your boss asked you to come along?’

‘There was a bit of an incident on my bus Saturday night, nothing much.’

‘So, you’re a bus driver. You must see some things on your journeys?’

‘The Oxford Tube, actually. The coach from Oxford to London.’

‘Oh,’ she said, surprised. ‘I’m not familiar with that. Is there any reason you came here instead of Oxford police station?’

Alan hesitated.

‘So, what happened,’ she said encouragingly, opening her notebook.

Alan sighed. ‘Some lads, you know, excited after a football match. They most likely had been drinking. They got a bit rowdy, as they do, and picked on some Pakistani lad.’ He laughed nervously. ‘It happens, you know.’

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