LITMIR.BIZ

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I gave it to him!’ I turned to see Tyler standing in the doorway. ‘God, Miller, you little shit!’

      He turned to me then. ‘Sorry, Mum, but he really is! You told me you needed it to reset the PlayStation!’ he said, jabbing a finger in Miller’s direction. ‘God, why didn’t I think of that? Listen, you’ve got to stop whatever it is you’re doing, get out of that game and change your player ID, and pronto. Because this won’t stop, Mum.’ He turned back to me. ‘Trust me, it won’t. Not unless he stops messing around with other players. And he knows it.’ Another jab of the finger.

      I had even less idea what was going on now, and absolutely no idea what Tyler was talking about, but Miller clearly did. He looked suddenly nervous. Even slightly afraid. Tyler wasn’t a particularly big lad for sixteen, but a few years make a world of difference at that age. So, for all that he’d take us on over every tiny thing, sheer physicality still held sway over Miller, clearly. I put a hand on Tyler’s arm. Felt the anger in him. ‘So at least you know what’s going on round here, then. Good. So, Miller,’ I went on. ‘You need to sort this out, now. And if we have any more of it, I will disconnect the internet, full stop. No more online gaming, period. Are we clear?’

      In answer, Miller picked up his control pad, flicked a switch, and his TV sputtered back into life again. ‘It’s all back on now anyway,’ he said, pointing to the PlayStation. ‘Drama over.’

      ‘No, mate, it’s not,’ Tyler said, ‘and I mean it. You need to stop hacking and just play like everyone else does. It’s not fair and it’s causing big problems for everyone. I mean it. You knock it off. You hear me? I’m sick of your nonsense!’

      ‘Fine!’ Miller huffed at him. ‘Whatever!’

      ***

      ‘You really need to get some schooling sorted out for him, Mum,’ Tyler said as I followed him back across the landing to his own room. ‘He’s a menace, he really is. And too clever by half. And he doesn’t know the half of what he’s dealing with, trust me. And why the hell is he still hanging around here all the time anyway? Why isn’t he in school? It’s not like he’s special needs or anything, is it? Or did he just get excluded from everywhere?’

      ‘Something like that,’ I told him.

      ‘But they shouldn’t put all this on us. It’s not fair.’

      ‘I know, love,’ I said. ‘And I’ll be on to Libby pronto.’ Much good that would do, I thought but didn’t say. ‘Look, you get back to your revision, eh? I’ll have Dad have some stern words with him later.’ I grinned. ‘No point me doing it when I don’t know what half of them mean, is it?’

      His shoulders lowered slightly. ‘True dat,’ he said. ‘But Dad really needs to give him hell.’

      ‘And he will,’ I said. ‘Promise.’

      So, crisis over. At least I hoped so.

      Except perhaps not. Or, at least, another one brewing. ‘Tyler,’ I said, ‘did you see the stuff he was writing? You know, on that pad? What’s that when it’s at home?’

      ‘Oh, that’ll be code. Code from the dark web, most probably. He’s in some sort of hacker group from when he had his own laptop. I think he’s trying to get back in but he can’t till he gets it back from his previous foster family. Seriously, Mum, he’s up to all sorts. Or would be, I’ll bet, given half a chance.’

      I still only understood about one word in six, but if Tyler thought Miller was up to ‘all sorts’ then he probably was. And though I didn’t know exactly what made that mad, bad or dangerous, I had heard of the dark web, and didn’t like the sound of it – and I definitely didn’t want it entering our house. Wasn’t the dark web what terrorists used to plan attacks, and paedophiles to organise their evil gangs?

      I went downstairs and called Jenny, Miller’s previous foster carer, to find out about the laptop I hadn’t heard about.

      ‘Ah, yes,’ she said immediately. ‘And I’m loath to give it back. Though I suppose I must. I’ll drop it round to Libby for you, shall I?’

      ‘But why do you still have it? I’d have thought it would be welded to his side, day and night.’

      ‘Because we confiscated it,’ she told me. ‘When he smashed the screen on ours.’

      ‘Ah,’ I said. ‘Why?’

      ‘Bit of a long story,’ Jenny said. ‘From back at the start, when he would actually leave the house with us. But the short version is that he’d been watching a movie on his own laptop and the power went. We were camping at the time and didn’t have access to anywhere to plug it in, so we allowed him to continue watching it on ours. We were outside the tents with some friends who had met up with us, at the time – Miller, of course, had stayed inside. And when I went to check on him, I saw that he was actually looking at bloody porn! Can you believe it? Anyway, when I tried to drag it away from him, he got angry and threw it across the tent, smashing it into a gas bottle.’

      I was happy she’d only told me the short version as I don’t think I could have taken all the gory details just at that moment, but I did make a mental note to check the search history on my own and Tyler’s computers.

      And to redouble my efforts to get a commitment to provide us with more support. With all the budget cuts, I knew I’d have a fight on my hands, but I was in the mood to fire off a few stern emails. And sterner than usual, given what I’d just found out. People needed reminding just how much I was out on a limb, and, given how Miller preferred to spend his time – and with whom – on the internet, how pressing was the need to get him back into education. And if they couldn’t offer any education in its normal setting, then I needed, badly needed, an alternative. Something that would get Miller out of the house for a couple of hours every day. Something to inspire him to get up and get dressed.

      Something more concrete than Libby’s empty promises – certainly of more substance than her ‘Yes, ELAC have something sorted’ had turned out to be. Which, as far as I could tell, was nothing more than the promise of a possibility to get Miller into a ‘new project’ they’d bought into – whatever that meant – and which so far had amounted to nothing. Well, bar what seemed like the social service term of the moment – the oft-repeated ‘just give us a few days’.

      I was just trying to put all that into ‘acceptable’ wording, when the door opened and the means of my salvation came in. Not in the form of an email, but my husband.

      Mike didn’t mince words. One of the reasons I loved him. ‘Go on, Case,’ he said, ‘get your coat and your car keys, and have a few hours shopping, or whatever it is you do in town.’

      I could have kissed him, and probably would have, but for a meek little Miller-shaped voice from behind me. ‘Would it be alright if I come to town with you, Casey?’

      We both gaped. I didn’t know whether to be pleased or frustrated. On the one hand I felt like I had just been given the keys to my jail cell, but on the other, I couldn’t shake the feeling that taking Miller with me just might help me with the key to him. If he didn’t do a runner on me, that was.

      Because that was obviously a clear and present danger. Miller’s long history of absconding might not have been an issue up to now (quite the opposite – he was stuck to home like glue) but perhaps he’d been operating a watch and wait policy. Who knew what went through his mind? I certainly didn’t. But if, for whatever reason, he’d decided to make today his bid for freedom, there would be little chance of me stopping him once we were out and about. And if he did decide to scarper, precious little I could do about it either. Just the grim prospect of calling up the cavalry and all the hassle that would ensue. Reporting it to the police, to the emergency duty team, becoming part of the search party, and all the resources and time and energy that would involve.

      None of which I relished, but it was a chance I’d have to take. After all, I wasn’t,

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