From the perspective of the staff, Sarah reckoned a lot of them didn’t believe the charges but didn’t want to get involved. She didn’t know what the children thought, because it wasn’t openly discussed, for good reason, but if she had to place a bet, she reckoned that the parents believed the accusations. It was the natural reaction of most people: throw enough shit and some would stick. It provided something to gossip about apart from the awful GCSE results. All their woes were suddenly the fault of Mr Blackman and his perverted mind, whether it be their child’s autism, increased drug abuse, or a cold snap in the weather.
Since his suspension, and Jenna Fraser’s death, the school had been thrown into a dark mood. It was now common knowledge that Jenna had committed suicide, though most people didn’t know exactly how. Sarah knew, and it was shocking. Drugs. They ruined everything. There was a pervasive feeling that the school had hit rock bottom, and the head was under growing pressure to rescue it, the year quickly turning into her annus horribilis. Sarah was on good terms with one of the office managers who had a loose jaw; that was how she’d found out the details of Jenna’s death. The woman had also told her that the head was thinking of quitting.
Now the police were asking about two other pupils who’d taken their own lives, one of them two years ago and the other a couple of years before that. It happened. Suicide was the biggest killer of ten- to twenty-five-year-olds now, and they had to go to school somewhere. The problem was the drugs angle. They just couldn’t keep it out of the schools. The staff regularly attended conferences on it and implemented policies recommended by Manchester and Kendal drug squads. But the dealers always found a way.
Sarah was a believer in the old saying that the devil made work for idle hands. Kids these days had nothing to do apart from sit like zombies in front of screens. That was what drove them to try other stuff. It made them so overstimulated that it bored them to death: the dopamine paradox, it was called. Of course, drug use was nothing new; it was one of the oldest and most lucrative trades on the planet and no one could change the demand. What they could do was tackle the supply, though it was only when the drug squads had tip-offs that they could set up surveillance and catch the sick bastards who were killing their kids. The school worked very closely with specialists who trained staff to look out for the warning signs of drug abuse. But it was so hard to prove that a child was using, and they weren’t allowed to search them. It was crazy.
The head came into the staff room. She had spoken to everybody who worked closely with Tony, and made it clear that she would support him for now. So that was the party line. They were saving their skins and waiting to see what a trial said.
What didn’t look good was that Tony had admitted to taking the student in question home with him, insisting that his intentions were honourable: she’d asked to borrow one of his limited-edition Lakeland poem collections, and he’d fallen for it. She must have planted the obscene images on his hard drive when he was fetching her a drink, and then found it amusing to inform the police, who had no choice but to act. But he couldn’t say what had motivated the girl to do it, or why she’d accused him of indecent assault. His case sounded fairly lame and he couldn’t prove his lack of guilt then he stood to get torn apart in court. The injustice of knowing his innocence but not being believed was a shocking reality. Sarah had contemplated confronting the complainant herself, but they’d all been told categorically not to by the head because of the fact that she was a minor, and a legal witness, and any interference could be construed as tampering. The girl was off limits. The injustice of it all stank. And they still had to teach her.
Sadie Rawlinson laughed with her friends, sniggered behind her art folder, swaggered in front of boys and fluttered her eyelashes at both sexes. The girl didn’t seem to have a moral bone in her body, inside her skimpy white shirt, tied above her skirt to show as much skin as possible and unbuttoned low to expose her cleavage. Flagrant distortions of uniform rules were considered the fault of the head, but it was an unwinnable war. It wasn’t rocket science that discipline was more likely to be successful when minor rules were followed, but imposing them was another story entirely. The pupils of the Derwent Academy had a reputation for flouting certain expectations when it came to behaviour outside the classroom, and to those in the know, it pretty much reflected what went on inside the classroom too. Only a few teachers commanded the respect of the students, whether it be due to their own indiscretions, such as smoking with the sixth formers by the lake, or through sheer skill; the others went to each lesson as if going into battle, prepared to barely make it out alive. Of the former, Sarah Peaks and Tony Blackman were certainly amongst the most popular – or had once been.
The head approached her and Sarah groaned inwardly. Her Google search sat open on her iPad: Innocent until proven guilty – law – UK. She glanced at her boss.
‘I’ve got to keep going. Look at this,’ she said, showing the head the screen.
‘I agree, but I’m not sure it’ll get you anywhere. I think it’s proving a real distraction for you, Sarah.’
‘I can’t just do nothing. It’s so unfair that Tony’s name can be published but Sadie’s isn’t. One newspaper has even printed a photograph of him, alongside his address.’ A few teachers looked over at them.
‘I know what you’re thinking, Sarah. Don’t even consider leaking her name. The fact remains that he invited her to his flat.’ Their voices had dropped to whispers, but it was quite clear to the others what they were talking about.
‘As if Sadie Rawlinson reads poetry! It makes my blood boil. She went there with the sole intention of framing him.’
‘Why would she do that? What’s her motive?’
The head had her on that one. Not even Tony had answered this question. Sadie’s story was that he had groomed her for weeks into finally accompanying him to his flat, where he’d tried to kiss her and grope her breasts.
‘For kicks, I guess. Just to be a first-class bitch and show that she can.’
‘Sarah, do you need some time off?’
‘No! That would look like I’m guilty too. I need to be here, fighting his corner. Some of the things being said about him are disgusting.’
‘I know, but that’s kids and gossip. The two don’t go together well. We’ve got to ride this out, otherwise things will quickly spiral out of control. Burden of proof is on the prosecution, don’t forget,’ the head continued. It was a comforting reminder. ‘They’ll have to prove her testimony correct, and I believe that will take some doing.’
There was no doubt that Sadie Rawlinson was a troublemaker, and fairly probably a pathological liar, but to toy with someone’s life, to get some sort of sick pleasure out of creating misery for others, was a step beyond mere delinquency.
‘Why don’t you take the rest of the term off? No one will think any less of you. We break up on Thursday anyway.’
‘And let her win?’
The bell rang and they all got up to leave the room. Sarah’s next lesson was with Sadie’s class, and she felt like throwing in the towel and going home, but she couldn’t. She had to face it head on.
She found teaching the girl almost impossible. Every time Sadie walked into her room, Sarah wanted to shake her and ask her why she was ruining someone’s life. She thought of Tony, funny, gentle, trusting, kind and generous, and then she looked into the over-made-up face of that lying, self-seeking little bitch, and she had to clench her fists. She swore that she’d seen the girl try to stare her out, and she wondered if she had any idea about her closeness to Tony. She was becoming paranoid.
But the feeling was quickly overtaken by something else when she walked into the classroom. The other students were huddled around Sadie, whose eyes were puffy and red. Sarah sighed and was about to call BAFTA to nominate the girl for her performance. But then she overheard what the pupils were gossiping about, and it wasn’t Tony; it was Faith Shaw. Faith always sat next to Sadie, but today she wasn’t there.
‘Sh
e went missing at the fair last night, miss,’ one child said.
‘What? Sadie, is that true?’
The girl began to nod, and Sarah couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.
‘Are the police involved?’
‘Yes, miss, she was reported missing last night.’
‘Christ, that’s awful. Sit down, all of you, and take a book out. I’m going to check with the office.’
For once the students did as they were told. A sinking feeling gripped Sarah’s stomach and she felt sick. This was a disaster for the school. Another disaster.
The kids looked lost. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t think of what to say. Instead she left the room and went straight to the head’s office. When she got there, the woman’s face said it all. Faith Shaw had last been seen at the fair, and was now officially a missing person.
Chapter 16
Kelly drove to Keswick on the A66. The 999 call had come through last night, and had been passed to her office first thing this morning. Statements had already been taken by the night shift, and family liaison officers were with the Shaws. Kelly’s involvement was because the girl was a minor. People went missing all the time in the UK, and most of them turned up safe and well within forty-eight hours. But when it was a child, things were slightly different. Especially when she’d gone missing from such a busy event, with thousands of strangers visiting the town.
Kelly was on her way to introduce herself to the family. An investigation would start immediately, but she needed to get a feel for the missing teenager. Was she a runaway? Was she under the influence of drugs or alcohol? Were there problems at home? Had she done it before? Did she have a boyfriend? She was also extremely concerned that this was yet another incident concerning the Derwent Academy.
Preliminaries had painted a picture of a girl not given to rash decisions, with no history of troublemaking and no apparent desire to leave the area. There had been vociferous denials of drug use, but all parents would say that. Last sightings had been at the fair on the same night Kelly had been there sipping glühwein with Johnny. Statements had already been taken from immediate family, neighbours and friends, and work was being started on rounding up as many people as possible at the Derwent Academy. It was a daunting task. There were some eight hundred kids at the school, and then the staff on top of that.
Rob accompanied her. He brought up the Tony Blackman case. Faith Shaw was one of Blackman’s students, and she was also the best friend of Sadie Rawlinson, who’d reported her missing. Rob was asking to be moved from the Blackman case to concentrate on the missing girl instead.
‘Emma could take my place, guv.’
‘So when you say “uncomfortable”, Rob, what exactly do you mean?’ Kelly drove carefully. Piles of snow had been pushed to the edge of the road, and looking at the clouds above, it seemed there was more on the way. Skiddaw sat moodily above them, covered in cloud. Kelly had been up there in rain and shine, and at the top, the chance of freezing fog was legendary. It was like being on the moon in this weather, but people still did it, as well they might: hiking wasn’t something that had a season.
She thought of Johnny. The disappearance of Danny Stanton was still a mountain rescue case, and they were working round the clock to find signs of the guy. Johnny had come in soaked and freezing last night, unable to feel his fingers. They’d been searching Whinlatter Forest and had been out for almost ten hours, finding nothing.
‘She’s very flirtatious.’
Kelly concentrated on the road. He was talking about Sadie Rawlinson, whom she had yet to meet.
‘Towards you?’
He nodded.
‘She’s a tricky one. What did Blackman say about her?’
‘He said she planted the material, and he categorically denies assault or attempted assault. Says she was there to collect poetry.’
‘Likely story. Jesus! What an idiot. What guy in 2018 invites a student to his flat for any reason at all and thinks he won’t get caught out? So do you think she’s playing a game? A witness should know better than to schmooze up to a police detective. It takes a lot to make you squeamish, Rob.’
‘Between me and you, guv …’
‘Of course it’s between me and you.’
‘She seems to be enjoying herself. She smiles at me a lot, and winks. You know the type. But there’s something else about her. She’s dangerous. I just don’t think she’d act the same way with a female.’
‘Really? It’s that bad? What about Will?’
‘He said she doesn’t do it to him. I wouldn’t make a fuss normally, guv. But there are times when I could be alone with her.’
‘Not really; she’s a minor, so she would always need a chaperone, but I guess it could happen. I’ll move you,’ Kelly said. ‘Now tell me, what do you think of Blackman?’
‘Regular guy. There’s no supporting evidence that might explain finding disturbing porn on his computer.’
‘There often isn’t. Sometimes it’s the quiet ones who surprise you. I take it he’s respected at school?’
‘Yes. A very popular member of staff.’
‘And have you gauged the kids’ reactions? Apart from the hilarious Facebook crap, I mean.’
‘Mr Popular, across the board. There’s one member of staff who was especially keen to support him and has given a statement about his character.’
‘Who’s that?’
‘An English teaching colleague called Sarah Peaks.’
‘Let’s catch up with her at some point then,’ Kelly said.
She turned off the A66 and dropped down into the town. Entering Keswick always gave her a sense of calm, despite it being for depressing reasons this time. With snow covering all the roofs, it looked like an advert for log cabin retreats in Canada. Walkers clogged the roads, as they always did, but at this time of year they were the serious kind: older, wiser, better kitted out, and ruddy-looking. They wore sturdy boots and expensive climbing jackets, carried poles and generally meant business. There was an absence of what might be considered the summer trade: families with dogs and kids, clamouring for ice cream and boat trips. The winter visitors were the real deal.
The Shaw family lived on a quiet road on the outskirts of town. Kelly parked outside, turned off the engine and sighed.
Rob looked at her.
‘I hate this bit,’ she said.
‘But you’re amazing at it.’
Kelly was embarrassed; he really didn’t need to dump praise upon her. She did her best in these emotionally charged moments. Most of the time, missing persons in the Lakes were found, and her department never got involved, but she had every right to direct sensitive cases from the inside. It wasn’t London, where a dedicated missing persons team was assigned cases like this. It was northern Cumbria, where there was one team for burglaries, domestics and murders alike, and that was what Kelly loved so much about the job. In London, she’d been a tiny cog, working with thousands of other tiny cogs to make a huge wheel turn, never really knowing if the mechanism was working properly. Here, she was the wheel. She oversaw everything. HQ thought it was time she sat behind a desk, but she fully intended to remain in the middle of things.
The house was pretty standard for the area: a stone and slate terrace, with pretty windows and stunning views of the surrounding northern fells. The air was freezing but fresh and escaped in cloudy geysers from their mouths. They retrieved coats from the boot and put them on. Kelly rubbed her hands. The snow showed no sign of ending; even though it was clear today, more was forecast for tonight.
They walked to the door and Rob rang the doorbell.
An elderly woman answered. ‘Can I help you?’ she said. ‘You look like the police.’
Kelly didn’t react; she was a professional in the art of the poker face. Liar dice was the one game that Johnny couldn’t beat her at.
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘We’re here to see Mr and Mrs Shaw. May we come in?’
The woman stood back and nodded.
She wore an old-fashioned pinny, and the house smelled of cooking. Kelly assumed that she was a relative or friend performing the tasks that the anxious parents weren’t up to.
‘And you are?’ Kelly asked.
‘I’m Faith’s nan.’ The woman’s face didn’t move as she talked.
Kelly felt her stomach tighten. At least the family had some support; some of them never did, and it was somehow harder to leave them after the statements were written and signed and the door closed. Close-knit families seemed to fare better.
She introduced herself and Rob. The woman nodded and wiped her hands on her pinny, holding one out in greeting. ‘Call me Nanna P.’ She had a solid handshake that smacked of matriarchy.
‘And where do you live, Nanna P?’ Kelly asked.
‘Down the road. Number forty.’
They followed her into the hallway. The house was quiet and Kelly felt the burden of bad news bearing down on her. Rob always seemed to know when to make himself smaller or bigger, depending on the occasion. He looked smaller now, and Nanna P had decided to trust them.
‘In here,’ she said.
Nanna P went in first, and Kelly heard weeping. Inside the room were two members of the liaison team, as well as Mr and Mrs Shaw and a young boy she assumed was Michael, Faith’s brother.
‘More police,’ Nanna P announced.
‘Mr Shaw.’ Kelly held out her hand. ‘Mrs Shaw. May we sit down?’
She surveyed the situation and analysed the parents. If Faith Shaw didn’t turn up soon, and foul play was suspected, then these two would be suspects and she had to get to know them. Both had suffered a tortured night, not knowing where their daughter was, and it had taken its toll. The young boy looked terribly lost.
Bitter Edge Page 7
