Page 133 of Restitution

I glance at the detectives and huff, telling my friends I’ll get them at the pool house before I walk towards them.

“Coming at the same time as the Russians wasn’t a good idea. Sorry that took so long.”

I’m not sorry at all.

The main one, an older woman with grey hair and a form-fitting suit, lifts her chin. “This is urgent, Mr Mitchell. It can’t wait.”

39

KADE

The detectives follow me to my mother’s office, and I feel itchy. I scratch my nape, and instead of sitting behind the desk I had Stacey bent over before blacking out, I sit on the edge of it and cross my ankles and arms. “Get it over with then. Did your chief talk through his ass? Are you charging me?”

“Not at this time, no,” one says, then the other guy says, “As much as it would bring us great pleasure.”

I scowl at him and commit his face to memory. “Hm. Then what the fuck do you want?”

The main woman speaks. “The file you sent, with all the locations of illegal activity… All those areas are now secure, and we would like to thank you for that. You saved a lot oflives with that information and reunited many families. We also gathered enough evidence from the file to make several arrests. Fifteen high profilers are detained. That doesn’t include the hundreds all over the world that were arrested with no chance of being released anytime soon.”

I rub my fingertips with my thumb obsessively. “Right…”

“As you’re fully aware, Archie Sawyer’s death was live-streamed to the world. It accumulated over three hundred million views. That video has now been deleted. All traces of it are gone and therefore cannot be used against you. Archie’s wife, Bernadette Sawyer, has been struck from her position and a warrant has been issued for her arrest.”

“Then go arrest her,” I say, even though I’d rather kill her in a worse way than I did her husband. “I still don’t know why you’re here. You already thanked me and told me Bernadette would be dealt with.”

The dickhead one leans forward with a smirk. “Are you aware that there’s a very large price on your head?”

I nod once. “Here to chance your luck? You won’t get far, you skinny prick. I’d snap your legs before you even got out of that chair and beat the shit out of you with them.”

He goes pale. Did I just threaten a detective? Shit.

“We’re not here for an argument, Mr Mitchell. Please refrain from threatening my colleague.” The woman speaks with some authority, even with a spark in her eyes. “We’re looking for Bernadette Sawyer and her acquaintances. Along with a handful of others who are extremely dangerous. We fear, based on what we’re hearing from our intelligent sources, that there will be an attack on you soon.”

I still don’t understand why they’re here.

She sighs and pulls out a folder containing two pieces of paper, handing me them. I scan the words, and the more I read,the deeper my frown becomes. When I look at her, she nods with a warm expression.

“We are providing you with protection. You and your family, your friends and your partner, Miss Rhodes. No one protected you before, Mr Mitchell, and we understand you went through a lot of traumatic situations and were let down by the system. You were attacked. Blackmailed. You were used as a weapon. And we want to do what we can to show our support.”

“Is this a joke?”

“No,” she says bluntly. “We aren’t asking. Within the hour, enforcement officers will arrive at the manor with highly skilled firearms units. We’ll have a helicopter overhead. Your team and Sebastian Prince’s can stay if they want. But our officers are here for you.”

The pieces of paper burn my fingertips as I read them again and again. I’m still reading long after the detectives leave. Barry calls, but I don’t answer. I don’t reply to any messages as I reread the papers a final time.

The crowds will be told to leave for safety reasons. They’ll even be safely escorted back to their homes – their countries. The media will be kept out of it. And at the bottom of the page is a signed note from the new chief officer, offering me his condolences for all my losses.

Even when Stacey finds me sitting at the desk, my eyes glued to the words, I still don’t believe any of this.

I was ruined by the head of Police Scotland. I was catapulted into the underworld by her when I was a teenager and violated in every way possible, and yet, here I sit with words offering me deep apologies and protection, thanking me, with Police Scotland stamped at the top.

They fired Bernadette, and she’s now a wanted person. And I’m protected. Is this real?

Stacey lowers herself into my lap and kisses my temple. “I texted you hours ago. Your mum said the police are settling in to their roles.”

I blink.

“You’re sweating.” A palm presses to my forehead. “Here, take your hoodie off.”