The Shooting

by Chris Taylor

  Ian had been in Brady’s class since they’d both started school six years ago, despite his pleas to his mother that she use her influence to rearrange them. But she’d done nothing, telling him it was out of her control. She wasn’t in charge of curriculum or the structure of the classes, she’d said. That was Mrs Brian’s department.

  In the end, he gave up asking.

  But that was yesterday and all the other yesterdays. Today, he was going to make a few changes and set his own course to freedom. Maybe he’d blow Mrs Brian away, too.

  Just like he did when he was playing GTA, Brady stealthily stalked his prey. According to his timetable, his Grade Five class was having music with Mrs Munro in the classroom at the end of the hall.

  A momentary surge of regret flooded through him. He liked Mrs Munro. She was one of his favorite teachers. She and his mom were friends. Sometimes, they lunched together. He hoped she wouldn’t be too scared at the sight of Ian’s blood.

  He’d emptied his school bag of everything. He wouldn’t need any workbooks today. His satchel now hung from his shoulder, with nothing in it save the box of ammunition. It was a shame the old .22 rifle wasn’t automatic, but he’d done what he could to compensate. He’d filled the clip to its hilt.

  Ten bullets were in the magazine. He hoped it was enough. He’d brought along the box of spare ammunition, but there was no guarantee he’d have time to reload. He’d just have to make sure he made every shot count. Like he did during GTA.

  If you lost concentration, you were dead. Game over. It was as simple as that.

  * * *

  Detective Senior Sergeant Tom Munro walked out of the tea room brandishing two fresh cups of coffee. The morning was early yet and all he could hope was that the day would be uneventful. His squad had attended more than their fair share of emergencies over the course of the past week. It was nice to sit around the squad room of the North Sydney Police Station and do nothing more than answer emails and the occasional phone call. Besides, it gave him time to think about his upcoming wedding anniversary and what gift he could possibly buy for his wife.

  He’d been married to Lily for sixteen years. Together, they had two teenagers, a daughter and a son. They were good kids and Tom was proud of them. They both attended a high school in Chatswood, not far from their comfortable home and the elementary school where Lily worked. It was a good situation all round and most of the time Tom was content with how things had worked out.

  If only Cassie wasn’t acting out…

  He shook his head and pushed the thought aside. It was probably just part of the normal course into adulthood. At seventeen, she still had a lot to figure out, like Lily kept telling him. Determined not to dwell on it, he forced a smile and deposited one of the coffee cups on the desk of his partner and fellow police negotiator, Andy Warwick.

  “Thanks, mate. Appreciate it. After the night I’ve had, I need that coffee like I need my next breath. It’s a matter of survival.”

  This time, Tom’s grin was genuine. “Sounds pretty rough. Which one of the kids was sick?”

  “No, it was Cally. She’s been laid low by a terrible flu. Was up and down all night. Painkillers, throat gargles, tissues. It seemed like every time I closed my eyes, she was asking me to get something else. It wouldn’t be so bad if she wasn’t pregnant. She can’t take anything stronger than paracetamol. I’m just relieved Jack and Grace don’t have it.”

  Tom nodded in understanding. “I can still remember the years when Cassie and Joe were that young. It seemed like one or the other of them was always coming down with something.” He grimaced. “A by-product of attending a daycare center. It’s a hell of a way to build up your immune system.”

  Andy grinned. “Yeah, you have that right. Throw in the fact that Cally’s teaching kindergarten and you have a fine old mix of germs coming into our household on a regular basis.”

  “She’s over at Hornsby, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah. It’s a bit longer commute than the last job, but she loves it over there. Is Lily still at Chatswood?”

  “Yep. She’s been there since she finished college and even before. She did her teaching practicums there. The only way they’ll get her to leave is to carry her out of there in a pine box,” he joked.

  The phone on Tom’s desk rang, interrupting their conversation. Tom set his coffee cup down and leaned over to answer it.

  “Tom Munro.”

  “This is dispatch. We’ve received an emergency call from Chatswood Elementary School regarding a possible shooting. Crews from Chatswood have already responded and an ambulance has also been called. Details are a little sketchy. At this stage, it’s not known if there are any injuries. They’re calling for a team of negotiators to deal with the shooter.”

  Tom took down the details. By the time he hung up the phone, adrenaline was already pumping through him, elevating his heart rate. Andy took one look at him and his expression changed.

  “What’s happened?”

  “A possible shooting at Chatswood Elementary.”

  Andy set his coffee cup down and headed toward the locker room, Tom close behind him. As if the thought had only just occurred to him, Andy came to a sudden halt and swung around. “Isn’t that where Lily—?”

  Tom’s response was short. “Yes.”

  Andy nodded once, his expression grim. “Right.”

  “They’re vague on details. They don’t know if there are any injuries,” Tom added, aware that he was trying to convince himself as much as his partner.

  “Right. Of course. I’m sure she’s fine.”

  Andy continued on his direct course toward the locker room. Tom followed on his heels and sent up a silent, desperate prayer that his partner was right.

  * * *

  Tom and Andy stood outside the high fenced perimeter that surrounded a number of unappealing red brick buildings that made up Chatswood Elementary School. A half dozen uniformed officers were also on the scene. On a normal day, the silence that greeted them wouldn’t have seemed out of place—it was class time, after all. But knowing that something dreadful had gone down made the lack of noise and activity in the school yard eerie. It was almost as if everyone knew there was something very wrong at Chatswood Elementary. Tom thought of his wife and the hair stood up on the back of his neck.

  A sense of urgency held him taut. He had to get in there and find out what was going on. He had to get in there and find Lily. He’d tried her cell phone on the way over, but it had gone straight to voicemail. He tried not to read anything into that. She often had her phone switched off, especially when she was teaching. He took a deep breath and forced his pulse rate down.

  The school was currently in lockdown, with nobody but emergency personnel allowed in or out. It was standard procedure during any kind of threat that the occupants of the building remained in their classes, sitting or lying down on the floor, as far away from the door as possible and no movement was allowed. Looking around at the crowd of police officers and other emergency personnel, he located the officer in charge of the scene and strode over to him.

  Upon closer inspection, Tom recognized Detective Senior Sergeant Lane Black from the State Crime Command based in Chatswood and offered him a muted greeting.

  “Lane, what do we know?”

  Lane glanced up and gave Tom a brief nod of greeting. “Tom. At this stage, we believe it’s a single shooter. An eleven-year-old kid in the fifth grade. He’s holding his class of about twenty-four students and a teacher hostage.”

  Tom swallowed and did his best to keep the panic at bay. Lily taught the fifth grade. “Do we know who the staff member is?” he asked in a voice as steady as he could manage.

  “Nope. We’re trying to track down the deputy. Apparently the principal is away at an inservice.”

  “What about the shooter? Any word on him?”

  “Only what we got second hand from some kid who was walking past the classroom, so nothing’s been confirmed. He told my partner the boy’s
name is Brady something or other.” Lane looked up and called out to another plainclothes detective who stood a short distance away.

  “Hey, Jett. Give us a sec, would you?”

  A fit, young detective with dark hair and bright intelligent eyes moved closer to Lane. He nodded a greeting to Tom and then turned to Lane. “What is it, mate?”

  “This is Detective Senior Sergeant Tom Munro. He and Andy Warwick are negotiators based at North Sydney. Tell Tom what you got from our witness.”

  Jett turned to face Tom, an expression of curiosity on his face. “Munro? Any relation to Clayton Munro?”

  Tom nodded. “Yes, he’s one of my brothers. I have a few of them.”

  Lane issued the slightest of smiles. “You can say that again. Jett and I were part of the investigation team that tracked down Clayton’s daughter, Olivia, when she was kidnapped earlier in the year. We’ve gotten to know him quite well since then. We’ve become friends.”

  Tom nodded and recalled Clay mentioning the name of the lead detective and his partner. His brother had been impressed with Lane’s investigative skills and Clay was beyond grateful to have his daughter returned to him unharmed.

  Andy edged closer and Tom understood the impatience in his partner’s eyes. “Give us what you have,” he said.

  Jett drew in a breath and began to relate the course of events as best he knew them. “Ten-year-old Travis Church is in the fifth grade and is a member of the class that has been taken hostage. He was on his way back from the bathroom when he saw a boy he identified as Brady Sutton through the little viewing window in the door. Sutton was shouting and brandishing some kind of rifle. According to Church, everyone looked scared.”

  Tom frowned. “Sutton? Isn’t that the name of the deputy?”

  Lane nodded. “You’re right. Hannah Sutton is the deputy principal. We’re still trying to make contact with her.”

  “I think that’s her now,” Jett interrupted and Tom turned to see a woman in her mid-thirties with soft brown hair pulled back in a bun hurrying toward them. She was pale and wore a grave expression. He stepped forward to greet her. Lane followed suit.

  “Oh, my goodness, officers. I’m so relieved to see you. I’m sorry. I was on the other side of the school, in a meeting. I’ve only just been informed. I understand one of the children is armed with a rifle. He’s threatening to shoot. We-we have the school in lockdown. Is there anything else I can do?”

  “Are you Ms Sutton?” Lane asked.

  She nodded and extended her hand. “Yes, I’m Hannah Sutton, the Deputy Principal.”

  She turned to Tom and he shook her proffered hand. He guessed she was acting on auto pilot.

  “Tom Munro. We’ve met before. I’m Lily’s husband.”

  Color flared in her pale cheeks and she looked away. “Tom, of course. I’m sorry. I’m a little…”

  She flapped her hands in a distracted manner and shook her head. Tom could understand her preoccupation.

  “We understand the boy is holding a class of students and a teacher hostage with a rifle,” he said.

  “Yes, that’s what I’ve been told. My-my assistant relayed the information to me.”

  Lane cleared his throat. “We’ve spoken to a boy by the name of Travis Church. Right now, he’s waiting in a police cruiser for his mom to arrive. Apparently, he was out of the room when it happened and saw the shooter through the glass panel in the door. He told us the boy with the rifle is a child by the name of Brady Sutton.”

  Any color that was in the deputy’s cheeks vanished the same instant she heard the child’s name. She went so white, Tom thought she was going to collapse. She wobbled on her feet and reached out for Lane’s sleeve, her movements jerky.

  “D-did you say B-Brady Sutton?”

  “Yes,” Lane replied. “I assume he’s a student here.”

  “Y-yes. He’s…he’s my son.”

  Tom sucked in a breath and tried to hide his shock. All of a sudden, he hoped to God their witness got it wrong. He couldn’t imagine what this woman would go through if it were true. Her son?

  “Christ,” Lane murmured under his breath and Tom knew exactly how he felt.

  “I-I need to talk to Travis,” Hannah pleaded. “Please, let me talk to Travis. I need to ask him. I need to—”

  “Hannah, with all due respect, we have to get into that classroom. You need to get hold of yourself and take us there, or at least point us in the right direction. Whether your son’s involved or not, there are at least twenty other people in that classroom. We need to ensure their safety. And the safety of your son,” Tom added.

  His harsh words, tinged with urgency, seemed to penetrate the panic that had taken hold of her. She stopped short and took in a deep, shuddering breath. She put a shaky hand up to her mouth, then seemed to collect herself.

  “Of course, Tom. I’ll do everything I can. I believe this time of day that class is in the music room with Mrs Munro…”

  The rest of what the deputy said was blocked by a roaring sound in Tom’s ears. Dread and fear twisted inside him, turning his gut inside out. Lily was in the classroom. His wife was in the classroom with a kid who had a rifle. A roaring sounded in his head.

  “Tom, Tom! What the hell? We have to get in there!” Lane yelled at him, but Tom barely heard over the noise in his head and the blood that rushed through his veins. He had to find Lily. He had to find her…

  Andy appeared in his periphery and then gripped him hard by the arms. “Snap out of it, Tom. We need you. Lily needs you.”

  “What’s going on?” Lane asked, confusion plain on his face.

  “It’s the teacher. Lily Munro,” Andy explained. “She’s Tom’s wife.”

  “Fuck.” The word fell with quiet force from Lane’s tongue. Tom nodded, in an agony of fear and indecision. He wanted to get inside and find Lily. He needed to keep her safe. But he didn’t know if he’d be of use or merely a hindrance. Lane made up Tom’s mind.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do.” He pointed to Tom. “You’re going to stay right here and wait for us to come out.”

  An instinctive protest rose up in Tom’s chest. “But—”

  Lane stared at him with hard eyes. Tom stared right back. The tense moment was broken when Andy stepped forward and drew Tom slightly to one side.

  “Tom, listen to Lane. You need to stay out here, mate. It’s for the best. You’re too close. You won’t be able to think straight. It’s not what Lily needs right now. She needs the best we have.”

  Tom listened and nodded reluctantly. Andy was right. There were teams of highly trained officers, including a team of negotiators, waiting to go in. None of them had the added emotional burden of being related to a potential victim. Lily needed the best. She needed a team that was cool and calm and focused. He was everything but.

  “Okay, I’ll stay. I promise.” He stared hard at Andy and then grabbed hold of his sleeve. “Find her for me Andy. Bring her to me. I need to have her here, by my side. I need to know she’s safe.”

  Andy held his gaze, his eyes bright with the intensity of the moment. “I will, Tom. I promise. I will.”

  “Okay, people, gather close,” Lane called. “We’re going in.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Chatswood Elementary School, Sydney—present day

  Brady wiped the sweat out of his eyes with the back of one hand, careful to keep the gun aimed as best he could on the members of his class. His gaze darted wildly from face to face, searching for the one he sought.

  Where was he? He should be here. He was always here. And yet, Brady couldn’t see him. With another swipe at the perspiration that slid into his eyes, he walked between the rows of desks, searching for Ian Little.

  Kids shrank away from him, their eyes wide and wild with fear. He chuckled. They should be scared. He was a hunter on the prowl. They didn’t know which one of them was in his sights.

  “Ian Little!” he shouted, becoming impatient. “Show your gutless face right now. I kn
ow you’re here. You’re always here. You’ve been here every day of your miserable life. I should know. You’ve done all you could to make my life miserable, too. I’m here to tell you it’s over. You’re not going to bully or tease or fight me again. Got it?” he roared, spinning around and cursing loudly when his nemesis failed to appear.

  “Show yourself, you gutless cocksucker. Don’t force me to choose someone else. You’re the fucker I’m after. Have some balls and show your fucking face.” He could see from the look on the faces of the other kids that they were shocked by his cursing. He’d be shocked, too, if he were them.

  But somehow, after a month of almost daily exposure to the obscenities freely uttered in GTA, the profanity felt good, the mere utterance of the words empowered him: He was all that mattered. Right here, right now, it was all about Brady Sutton. His cursing and fuck-you attitude had certainly had the desired effect—the kids looked more terrified than ever. Even Mrs Munro had gone pale.

  Brady swung around to face her, the gun steady in his hands. She flinched and moved away, placing the large teacher’s desk between them. He lowered the gun a little and tried to make her see she wasn’t the one he hunted. He liked Mrs Munro. She’d done nothing but treat him with kindness. Besides, she was his mom’s friend. He had no gripe against her.

  “Brady, honey. Put down the gun. Let’s talk about it. You’re looking for Ian. I take it he’s made you angry?”

  Brady stared at his teacher like she was talking in tongues. “Angry? Of course he’s made me angry. For every single day I’ve spent here, he’s made my life a living hell. I’m here to even the score. It’s only fair, don’t you think?”

  “Of course, Brady. I understand exactly how you feel, but hurting Ian won’t help anyone. How about you put down the gun and we can talk about it. I’ll help you come up with an agreeable solution.”

  Rage ignited inside him and despite the fact it was Mrs Munro trying to help him, he lashed out.

  “I don’t need your fucking help! I’ve found an agreeable solution! I have a gun! I’m going to blow his fucking head off. Boom! His brains are going to splatter all over the place, like a watermelon dropped from a three-storey building. I’ve seen what happens when someone takes a bullet to the head. It isn’t pretty.”