by D. S. Butler
“Tell me what happened, Lauren.”
Lauren looked up and swallowed hard. “She came here. She had a syringe and she picked up Mia. I thought she was going to…” The rest of her words were smothered with a sob.
“Who was here, Lauren? Can you give me her name?”
“It was Nicky.”
“Do you know her last name?”
“Nicola Brent. We were at school together. I was her sister’s best friend. It was her. All of it. She killed them all.”
“When did she leave?”
“Just now. Just after the police officer took a cup of tea to the man in the car.”
When PC Worthington entered the room bringing Mackinnon his cup of tea, he took the opportunity to go out into the hall and phone Collins to fill him in.
He walked back into the living room just as PC Worthington was trying to convince Lauren to let her take the sleeping baby from her arms.
“She stays with me,” Lauren snapped.
“That’s fine,” Mackinnon said. “I want you to tell me everything that happened. Did she hurt either of you?”
Lauren shook her head. “No, but she had a syringe and I thought she was going to inject Mia. I tried to tell her I had nothing to do with her sister’s death. She didn’t believe me at first.”
“What did you tell Nicky?”
“The truth. Her sister got bullied at school because she had a lisp. A group of kids locked her in a cupboard, and she had an asthma attack. I was there, but I didn’t get her help in time.”
Lauren bit down on her lip and hugged the baby to her chest. “Beverley was the ringleader. She could be really nasty. Joe worshipped the ground she walked on and would have done anything she said, but it was Troy who pretended to throw the snake in the cupboard. I think that is what triggered the asthma attack.”
“You told all this to Nicky?”
Lauren nodded.
“I think you’ve had a very lucky escape, Lauren. Now that we know who she is, we can find her and put a stop to this.”
“She left because she believed me.”
“Because you told her the truth.”
Lauren was rocking back and forth, and the tears were now steadily flowing down her cheeks.
“It was the truth, but I’ve done something terrible.”
“What?”
“I saved myself but at the expense of someone else.”
“Someone else? What do you mean? Who?”
“I wasn’t thinking about the consequences. I was worried about Mia. So I told Nicky. I told her everything.”
“What did you tell her?”
“It was a cowardly thing to do, but I had to put my baby first, so I sacrificed her.”
“Who?”
“Mrs. Diamond. She was a science teacher. I asked her to unlock the cupboard and told her what they had done to Alex, but it was ten long minutes before she finally came to unlock the cupboard and we discovered Alex’s body. If she had come sooner…”
“Don’t let her out of your sight,” Mackinnon ordered as he walked past PC Worthington.
He headed outside, pulling his mobile phone out of his pocket and called Collins again.
“We’ve got a name,” he said. “Nicola Brent. Known as Nicky. She is our killer. Her sister was the student who died of an asthma attack. She’d been locked in a cupboard by a group of students – Beverley Madison, Troy Scott and Joe Griffin.”
“I’ll try and find an address for her,” Collins said.
“You better make it quick. I think we have another target.”
“Another student was involved?”
“No, not a student. It’s Mrs. Diamond, the headmistress. She used to be the science teacher when Alex and Nicky attended the school. Lauren Hicks has just told Nicky that Mrs. Diamond didn’t unlock the cupboard as quickly as she could have. I think Nicky is going to go after her.”
“We have Mrs. Diamond’s address. I’ll send someone round there straight away.”
44
COLLINS RETURNED MACKINNON’S CALL less than two minutes later. “Bad news. She isn’t at home. Her husband answered the landline and told me she was working late. I got her mobile number from her husband, but she isn’t answering.”
“So we think she is still at the school?”
“Yes. She’s catching up on some paperwork according to her husband. We are mobilising a team to get to the school now.”
“I’m not far away,” Mackinnon said. “I’ll check it out now.”
“All right, but if you see anything out of the ordinary, don’t go rushing in, Jack. Wait for backup. There will be units on the scene shortly, so don’t do anything stupid.”
Mackinnon shook his head as he hung up the phone and stuffed his mobile back in his pocket. By the way Collins spoke, it sounded like he thought Mackinnon tried to get into trouble.
When Mackinnon arrived outside St George’s, it was already dark, and the school gates were locked. A gust of wind blew swirling leaves around his feet.
Everything seemed quiet from where he stood. The school playground was empty and he couldn’t even see any lights on in the school building. Perhaps Mrs. Diamond had already left.
He pressed the button on the intercom which stood beside the locked gate, but there was no answer. He walked around the perimeter, trying to find the car park, and sent Collins a text, asking for Mrs. Diamond’s license plate number. If her car was there, Mackinnon decided he would go looking for her.
His phone beeped with an incoming text message.
Sandra Diamond – LM60 SMR
The gates around the car parking area weren’t as sturdy or as high as the ones by the main entrance. Mackinnon could clearly see a solitary car left in the car park. But from where he stood, he couldn’t see the number plate clearly.
He hesitated for a moment and then decided to try and scale the fence. It was harder than it looked. And when he finally heaved himself to the top of the fence, he lost his balance and tumbled over the other side, ripping his shirt in the process.
After dusting himself down, he walked forward, cautiously, towards the red car. When he was a few feet away he saw that it was without a doubt Sandra Diamond’s car.
He scanned the outside of the building for any lights or signs of occupation, but all the windows were dark.
Ahead of him there were a set of blue doors and he walked towards them. He gave them a shove and was surprised when they opened.
He stepped inside the school and made his way along a corridor lined with green metal lockers. At the end of the hallway he stopped for a moment and listened.
He could hear a distant dripping sound as if a tap hadn’t been fully turned off or something was leaking, but he couldn’t hear voices.
He continued forward along the corridor, heading for the centre of the school.
45
SANDRA DIAMOND SIGNED THE last letter on her desk with a flourish, then sighed and leaned back in her chair.
Thank goodness that was over. There was only one more thing she had to do this evening before she could go home.
She manoeuvred the mouse, clicking on her admin folders and locating a template file on her PC. It was a letter to parents, reminding them of the strict dress code at St George’s.
A number of the girls had taken to wearing skintight trousers because the last letter she had sent out hadn’t expressly forbidden them. They thought school was some kind of fashion show. Honestly, she had hoped that the parents would have had a little common sense.
Sandra Diamond shook her head as she made adjustments to the template letter. Changing the date and adding an extra line about the skintight trousers, she scowled in annoyance.
Her fingers paused above the keyboard when she thought she heard a noise outside in the corridor. She waited for a moment, listening out for anything unusual, but there was nothing. It must have been her imagination.
It was always strange to be in the school after hours. The place was so full o
f life during the day, and so noisy when it was full of children. The quiet at this time of night seemed almost spooky.
She adjusted her glasses and read through the Word document. That should do the trick, she thought. At least until some other way of dressing came into fashion. It had been platform shoes a few years ago. Now, that had been really ridiculous. The girls were constantly tripping over things.
She clicked on the print option from the file menu and printed off a copy of the letter. She selected the printer in the secretary’s office next door, so that the following morning the secretary would be able to photocopy the letters and stuff them in envelopes. The children could take them home at the end of the day.
A shrill beep, signalling a paper jam, came from the printer.
The noise made Sandra jump.
“For goodness sake,” she muttered under her breath.
She had worked here for years and had grown used to the place, but she had never liked working late here alone.
When she’d originally decided to be a teacher she thought it was going to be brilliant having all the summer holidays off and finishing work at three thirty every day. How wrong she was.
At least she got out of the marking these days. She used to really hate that. It had been soul destroying going over all the science papers and realising just how little her students paid attention.
She had come to St George’s fresh out of teacher training college, full of exuberance, thinking she was going to make a difference to all the young lives. Her enthusiasm had lasted approximately six months.
Sandra didn’t really know why she had stayed at St George’s for all this time. Perhaps it was because she thought she wouldn’t be good at anything else. She had planned to move on, but those plans had never come to fruition, and now she was almost at retirement age and had only ever worked at St George’s.
At least she had been promoted. She had worked her way up through the teaching ranks and ten years ago, she achieved the position of headmistress. That had been a disappointment too.
Sandra got up from the desk and wandered outside into the school secretary’s office.
The lights were off, but Sandra could see the red flashing light on the printer.
She considered leaving it until tomorrow morning, but then she would have to deal with dirty looks and snide comments from the secretary. She sighed and pulled open the paper drawer. She leaned over and tried to peer inside. She couldn’t see a paper jam. The stupid thing was just temperamental. It seemed to have a mind of its own.
She yanked the whole drawer free from the printer and reached inside. Nothing. There didn’t appear to be any paper stuck in the mechanism.
Groaning with frustration, she reached down to switch the printer off at the plug, and out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a movement.
Sandra flinched and stared through the door out into the corridor beyond. The door had a small pane of glass, but it was misted and the corridor was dark.
Sandra eased herself up slowly to a standing position and then took a step towards the door. She was letting her imagination run away with itself. It was time to go home. She would leave the stupid printer until tomorrow. Hopefully the secretary would sort it out without making a tremendous fuss.
Sandra quickly walked back into her office and grabbed her handbag and jacket together with a yellow folder full of notes that she was supposed to look over before tomorrow’s Governors’ meeting.
She locked the door to her office and walked back through the secretary’s area, looking nervously around her. Before she closed the door to the secretary’s office, she reached out and fumbled for the light switch on the wall. As the lights flickered on and illuminated the corridor, Sandra could see the row of uniform lockers under the stark fluorescent lighting. The familiar sight made her relax.
She quickly locked the door to the secretary’s office and strode off in the direction of the car park. She was already late for dinner and George would be moaning. He’d retired two years ago, but that didn’t mean he ever thought to make the dinner himself. He didn’t bother with the housework either, instead keeping himself busy by playing golf.
Sandra stepped through the double doors exiting the school and shivered. The cold December air hurt her chest as she breathed it in. The weather had changed suddenly this week and winter had hit England full force.
Sandra walked towards her red Ford Focus and pressed the key fob on her key ring to unlock the car. There was a beep and the lights flashed. Sandra had just opened the boot and put her handbag and the yellow folder inside when she heard a buzzing noise.
Her phone. She must have forgotten to take it off silent after her meeting this afternoon. Sandra propped her bag up on the boot and started to rummage around inside it when a voice close behind her made her freeze.
She felt something hard pressed against the small of her back.
“Hello, Mrs. Diamond. It’s been such a long time.”
46
I FORCED MRS. DIAMOND to go back into the school and led her into the very classroom where it had happened. I secured her wrists behind her back, using green gardening twine, then bound her ankles.
I also decided to use a gag, not that she had tried to scream. I just felt it was appropriate.
But as I stepped back to admire my handiwork, I had an uneasy feeling.
I didn’t like what I saw.
Mrs. Diamond’s face was heavily lined. She pleaded with me with her bloodshot eyes. She looked so much older than I remembered her. She didn’t look scary or powerful, not like she had looked then.
“Please,” Mrs. Diamond said, her voice muffled by the gag.
I loosened the strip of fabric I’d used as the gag.
“Please, don’t hurt me. You can take what you want. There’s money in my handbag, and there are new computers in one of the classrooms down the hall. You could take them and leave. Probably get quite a bit of money for them and I would never tell anyone. I’d say I never saw your face.”
I held up a hand to silence her and stop her babbling. “I’m not a thief, Mrs. Diamond.”
I ignored her and walked about the classroom, taking it all in. The school had been modernised since I had been a pupil here. The decor was all different, bright colours instead of the institutional grey we’d had. The layout was the same, though, and the cupboard was in the same place.
I moved forward, tested the handle and smiled. It was unlocked. Inside there were stacks of Bunsen burners and rows of gleaming glassware. I picked up a measuring cylinder and inspected it. It was new, good quality stuff. Not like the chipped, battered equipment we used to use.
I walked back into the classroom and was gratified when Mrs. Diamond flinched as I passed within a few inches of her.
If she was scared of me now, that was nothing to how petrified she was going to feel in a few minutes.
I stopped in front of her and leaned back to perch on one of the desks. “Well, Mrs. Diamond, do you recognise me?”
Mrs. Diamond shook her head and her greying curls bashed against her cheeks.
“I’m hurt,” I said, tilting my head and giving her a smile. “I’ve never forgotten you. How could I?”
She was really scared now and shaking uncontrollably.
“Well, I won’t hold it against you. You can still have your present. Just wait until you see what I have in this bag.”
I moved the black holdall so it was on the ground between us, and I inched open the zip.
Mrs. Diamond’s eyes were fixed on the bag. She was breathing rapidly. I thought she might hyperventilate or have an asthma attack — wouldn’t that be sweet justice?
But Mrs. Diamond was made of sterner stuff than I thought. Her eyes remained locked on the holdall as I finished unzipping the bag.
I didn’t reach inside. I didn’t have a death wish. Not yet anyway. Instead, I held the bottom of the thick black canvas and tilted it, encouraging the occupant to emerge.
When the
smooth brown snake slithered out of the bag, Mrs. Diamond’s reaction didn't disappoint me. She screamed and writhed, desperate to get away from the snake.
Even though her ankles were tied together, she managed to propel herself backwards with her heels, sliding along the floor. I watched her with interest. I hadn’t bothered to replace the gag. There was no need. There was nobody here to hear her scream.
She seemed to be sufficiently terrified, so I thought it was time for the next step.
I bent down beside her, and although she tried to move away from me, she couldn’t, and I yanked her hair, keeping her head in position.
I leaned close to whisper in her ear. “I think I should tell you what this is all about,” I said, but I knew Mrs. Diamond already understood.
She’d been lying when she said she didn’t recognise me.
She must have heard the news and realised something was wrong when her ex-students started dropping like flies. Even though the press had picked up the wrong end of the stick and had no idea why I was doing this, I knew that Mrs. Diamond would.
“It wasn’t my fault,” she blurted out. “You can’t hold me responsible for what happened to your sister.”
I felt a shiver of repulsion for the old woman. “Yes, I can. It all started with you. You made her stand up in front of the whole class and give a talk, even though you knew she’d be ridiculed and teased afterwards.”
“I was trying to help. She needed to toughen up,” Mrs. Diamond said and then licked her lips. “It was those awful children. I didn’t have any idea they would lock her in a cupboard. How could I?”
“Her school bag was on her desk,” I said in a whisper and walked away from her, staring out of the dark window. “Did you know that? Her inhaler was just feet away in her bag. It could have saved her.”
Behind me, I heard Mrs. Diamond sob, and I hated her for it. She was the one that needed to toughen up now.
I heard a high pitched squeal, and when I turned around, I saw that the snake was moving towards Mrs. Diamond, its tongue flickering out and tasting the air.
