Dying Truth

by Angela Marsons

  She shook her head. ‘I’m afraid Tristan can’t help you.’

  ‘But, if I could just speak to him for a moment. Or if you could explain why he left the school in the middle of the year…’

  ‘He can’t explain anything to you, officer,’ she said, resolutely.

  Dawson tried to hide his frustration. ‘Mrs Rock, there are children being intimidated into silence, forced to join elite clubs and compete for popularity and acceptance. It is sickening and cruel and I really need—’

  ‘Follow me,’ she said, standing.

  He fell into step behind her as she returned to the hallway and entered a door on the right.

  ‘Officer, I’d like you to meet my grandson, Tristan.’

  Dawson felt his eyes opening wide as he stepped into the room.

  Fifty-Two

  Kim barged past a security guard and into Thorpe’s office without knocking.

  ‘Where is Christian Fellows?’ she asked, ignoring the secretary who sat on this side of the desk and viewed her with disdain.

  ‘I’m sorry, Inspector, but what—’

  ‘I need to know what lesson Christian Fellows is in, now,’ she said.

  He looked to his secretary.

  ‘Physics,’ she said. ‘Block A,’ she clarified.

  Kim thought she knew where that was and opened her mouth to ask.

  ‘But he’s on his way here right now,’ she said.

  So that was how the woman had been able to pluck the information from nowhere.

  ‘For what?’ Bryant asked.

  ‘A welfare check,’ Thorpe answered. ‘All of the boys in Shaun’s class are being checked on. It’s traumatic for all the boys.’

  ‘How long ago did you send for him?’ Kim asked.

  ‘About five or ten minutes,’ the woman answered.

  ‘Which is it, five or ten? How long should it take for him to get here?’

  She shrugged. ‘Not very long but I don’t understand—’

  ‘Come on, Bryant,’ Kim said, sprinting out of the office.

  * * *

  ‘I know where the physics class is,’ Bryant said, leading the way. ‘You have to pass it to get coffee.’

  They sprinted along the corridors for a full two minutes before Bryant stopped and pointed across the hallway.

  ‘That’s it,’ he said.

  Kim thrust open the door to the surprise of a middle-aged woman who turned to her and frowned at the sudden intrusion.

  ‘Christian Fellows?’ she asked.

  The woman shook her head. ‘He’s with the principal right—’

  ‘Damn it,’ Kim said, closing the door. They had just taken the route he would have followed, and they hadn’t met him on the way.

  ‘Okay, back we go,’ Kim said. ‘Sweeping every room.’

  The kid had to be somewhere.

  Bryant’s eyes widened. ‘Do you know how many rooms there are between—’

  The door she’d just closed suddenly opened. ‘May I help you with something, officer?’

  ‘Christian isn’t with the principal, and we need to speak to him urgently,’ Kim said, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.

  ‘Well, he can’t have gone far,’ she replied. ‘I’m sure he’s just been dawdling along somewhere.’

  Kim prayed to God she was right.

  ‘Boys,’ she called, and twenty young bodies appeared in the hallway. ‘Teams of two, full search of all areas between here and the admin block. Go.’

  The boys began running in all directions.

  ‘Thank you. We’ll head back to the office to see if he’s turned up there yet,’ Kim said.

  ‘I’ll alert the next classroom and get more children searching.’

  Kim thanked her before she and Bryant began the sprint back to the principal’s office.

  ‘Damn it, Bryant, where the hell is…’

  Her words trailed away as a scream filled the corridor.

  ‘Shit,’ she said, launching past Bryant towards the blood-curdling noise.

  She found a woman, a member of the housekeeping team, standing in the doorway of a room with her hands covering her mouth.

  Kim pushed past her and also came to a stop.

  Dangling from the ceiling beam was the body of Christian Fellows.

  Fifty-Three

  Kim’s stunned gaze travelled from the upturned stool beneath the child’s feet right up to his closed eyes and then to the sheet that was knotted around his neck. She had the sudden vision of them hurrying past the door to this room while the kid was hanging there.

  The sensation of Bryant behind her prompted her into action.

  Kim moved into the janitor’s room and turned the stool back upright and jumped up onto it. She grabbed the boy’s legs and lifted him up to take the pressure from the sheet around his neck. With one arm around his waist she reached up and untied the crude knot around the beam.

  The boy’s body slid down her own. She threw the sheet aside and used both arms to hold him tight. She didn’t want to let him go.

  A familiar feeling began to wash over her. His body was still warm. Minutes. They had been just minutes too late for Sadie and now minutes too late for Christian, who had been murdered for something he might or might not have seen.

  ‘Fuck it,’ she said, holding the boy tightly to her chest, his head lolled against her cheek.

  ‘Guv,’ Bryant said. ‘Let me—’

  ‘Hang on, shush,’ Kim commanded, listening and feeling beyond her heart beating loudly in her ears.

  No way. She was imagining things. It was what she wanted to feel. It was wishful thinking.

  But no, it wasn’t her imagination.

  She had just felt his warm breath against her cheek.

  ‘Hurry, Bryant,’ she shouted. ‘Give me a hand. This child is still alive.’

  Fifty-Four

  Dawson could not remove his gaze from the inert figure lying in the hospital bed.

  Tristan’s possessions were placed around the room as though he’d left them moments before to take a nap. A pair of dirty trainers sat beside his bedside cabinet, a grey hoody hung from the wardrobe door handle. A skateboard propped up against the wall. Posters of gothic art lined the walls and a pile of magazines was stacked in the corner. Dawson suspected that his grandmother was making sure his things were ready for when he came back.

  Louisa Rock had taken a seat beside her grandson after asking the nurse to leave them alone for a moment. The woman checked the ventilator, nodded and left the room.

  ‘He is more than what you see here,’ she said, following his gaze around the room, and Dawson understood. She would not allow his personality to be packed away, out of sight.

  Her hand touched his temple and gently pushed a lock of dark hair to the side.

  ‘Every day I pray for signs of improvement,’ she said, sadly. The doctors insisted he was brain dead and could feel nothing, but I still feel that Tristan is in there fighting to come out.’

  Dawson knew the boy to be seventeen years old, but he looked much younger. His dark hair framed a smooth and youthful face with thick, dark eyelashes and strong, handsome features despite the paleness of his complexion.

  His arms were laid at his side, long and athletic but not thin and wasted. His pyjama-clad chest rose and fell rhythmically in time with the machine that had not only taken on the function of his breathing but the sound as well.

  Dawson wondered if it had been some kind of accident or an illness.

  ‘His parents wanted to give up on him, but they don’t know him the way I do. The best way to get Tristan to succeed at something is to tell him he can’t do it,’ she said, taking his hand. ‘Which is ironic, considering—’

  ‘How did this happen, Mrs Rock?’ he asked, gently, already forming an exit strategy. As tragic as it was, Tristan Rock’s condition was not going to help him prove his theory.

  ‘It’s not something we talk about, officer. Agreements were signed.’

  ‘Agr
eements?’

  ‘Non-disclosure agreements. Between Tristan’s parents and the school.’

  Dawson balked. ‘This happened to Tristan at Heathcrest?’

  She nodded. ‘My son accepted a financial settlement to help compensate for the inconvenience of the accident.’

  ‘“Accident”?’ he asked, aware that he was repeating her words.

  Louisa Rock pursed her lips and nodded.

  ‘Mrs Rock, what is the nature of your son’s condition?’

  She sighed heavily.

  ‘It’s called Hyponatremia. Otherwise known as water intoxication. Excessive water intake creates a sodium imbalance causing cells to swell. He drank himself into unconsciousness.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘He filmed himself doing it, officer. He used his phone to capture the whole event as he drank pint after pint of water and, in effect, eventually drowned himself. The phone caught his eventual collapse and the entrance of his room-mate an hour later, by which time it was too late.’

  Dawson pictured the phone positioned, filming as his condition worsened, an eye on him that could not communicate to anyone.

  ‘The doctors did all they could, but he was already brain dead.’

  Dawson felt the rage building within him that the school had so easily been able to avoid yet another scandal by handing over a fistful of money.

  ‘But why did he do it in the first place?’ Dawson asked.

  ‘It was his initiation task. It was a dare from the King of Spades.’

  Fifty-Five

  Kim watched the ambulance race away with its blue lights flashing before turning to the surprisingly athletic man beside her.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  He nodded as the colour began to return to his face.

  Bodies had converged on them from every direction in response to Bryant’s call for help. She had held the boy tight, watching his breathing, ready to perform CPR if his chest failed to rise.

  The second she’d thought she heard sirens Graham Steele had gently taken Christian from her arms as though he were no heavier than a feather and charged through the crowds to get him to the front of the building as quickly as possible. No one had stood in his way.

  While holding him Kim had wondered how he was still alive and her mind recalled the placement of the sheet around his neck. The knot had rested beneath his chin and not pressing on his windpipe.

  ‘He was a friend of Shaun’s,’ Graham said, as though that explained everything. It did not. ‘He was actually on his way for a welfare check. If only I’d seen him.’

  ‘It’s not attempted suicide,’ she said, as the ambulance disappeared from view. Bryant was in the building somewhere right now talking to Woody and explaining that fact.

  ‘What do you—’

  ‘The chair,’ she said. ‘I stood on it and could barely reach the beam, so Christian wouldn’t have had a chance. The chair was staged to look like he’d kicked it away, but he couldn’t have. Someone tried to kill this kid,’ she said, meeting his doubtful gaze. ‘The third in a week,’ she observed.

  ‘But they’re just children,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘What possible motive could anyone…’

  ‘You speak to many of the students here, Graham,’ she observed. ‘Is there anyone you think is capable of committing—’

  ‘You think a student could have done this?’

  ‘Don’t you?’ she asked.

  He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry but I’m not going to even consider such a hypothesis,’ he said, walking away.

  Kim chewed on her own frustration. First Ted and now the school counsellor. Was there no one prepared to have this conversation with her?

  She headed back into the school, forcing her way through groups chattering and whispering, dissecting the latest events.

  Crime scene tape had been stretched across the doorway to the janitor’s room and two techies dispatched from the shower block were assessing the scene from within.

  Bryant headed towards her carrying two coffees. As he got closer he shook his head.

  ‘No go,’ he said.

  ‘What the hell is it going to take to close this bloody place down?’ she growled. How many kids had to die? She wondered, relieving Bryant of one cup.

  ‘Oh no, brace yourself,’ he said, looking behind her.

  She turned to see Thorpe attempting to bypass the crime scene tape and enter the janitor’s room.

  She stepped towards the doorway and held up her hand. ‘Sorry, Principal Thorpe, but I can’t allow you to enter.’

  His face reddened to full ripeness.

  ‘You can’t keep me out of—’

  ‘Oh yes I can,’ she said, stepping away and sipping coffee. ‘Tell him, Bryant.’

  Her colleague’s lips twitched as he approached the doorway.

  ‘Sir, we cannot allow any further contamination of the crime scene,’ Bryant said, as she leaned against the wall and took a sip of her coffee. ‘We are following all necessary protocols for a double murder and an attempted murder, and I’m sure you’re equally keen that we uncover the perpetrator at the earliest opportunity.’

  ‘Of course, officer. I have parents calling and turning up to remove their children. I’d like you to speak to them and offer them your reassurance that their children are safe here.’

  Kim almost spat her coffee right in his face. ‘That’s not gonna happen, I’m afraid. Unfortunately, the word is out now, making everyone’s job a whole lot harder, but we will not offer reassurance that we cannot guarantee. Now, I’m thinking that closing down the site and sending the kids home might be a reasonable guarantee of their safety.’

  ‘The board and I discussed the possibility while exploring alternative options.’

  ‘And decided to employ a private security company,’ she said, looking behind him. ‘And they are, err… where exactly?’

  ‘We can’t hold them responsible for this,’ he argued.

  ‘But their presence didn’t exactly prevent it either, did it, Principal Thorpe?’

  ‘It’s a reassuring presence,’ he said. ‘It will make everyone feel better.’

  ‘Do you really believe that?’ she asked, incredulously. ‘Or is it so that you can use it to convince quivering parents to keep their children here while trying to keep the reputation of the school intact, because if you take a look at the press community camped at the school gates that ship has pretty much sailed.’

  He bit his lower lip before answering. ‘Inspector, the reputation of this and other independent schools is what our clients pay for. Our students must learn to face adversity to prepare them for life after Heathcrest.’

  Kim looked to Bryant to see if he was smelling the same level of bullshit.

  His expression told her he was.

  She stepped closer, despising his priority of reputation. ‘I am so pleased that current events have served the school in the name of character building for the remaining students, but might I remind you that there is a killer on these premises, Principal Thorpe, and two of your charges are already dead. I suggest that becomes your pressing priority, and the fact that parents are arriving to remove their children restores my faith in the power of their judgement. Now, please leave us alone to do our job.’

  His eyes widened and his teeth ground together as his gaze bore into hers.

  She did not look away. Four seconds later she was watching his back as he stormed along the corridor.

  ‘Feel better there, guv?’ Bryant asked.

  ‘Oh yeah. I needed that.’

  ‘Good to see you adhering to Woody’s instruction, guv?’

  ‘Which one?’ she asked.

  ‘Making a nuisance of yourself.’

  ‘I like to do what I’m told,’ she said deadpan.

  Bryant sputtered his coffee as her phone began to ring.

  ‘Keats,’ she said into the handset.

  He didn’t beat around the bush as he gave her the results of the toxicology report
he’d received for Sadie Winters.

  She listened silently as he explained in layman’s terms what had been found.

  She ended the call and turned to Bryant.

  ‘Locate Saffron Winters. I want to talk to that girl right now.’

  Fifty-Six

  Kim tapped her fingers on the desk impatiently.

  ‘So, what exactly are we talking to Saffie Winters about?’ Bryant asked as a gentle tapping sounded at the door.

  ‘You’re about to find out,’ she said, before calling out for Saffie to enter.

  The girl appeared in the doorway and Kim beckoned her forward.

  She glanced sideways at Bryant.

  This interview was hers.

  ‘Please sit down, Saffie,’ Kim said, keeping her voice cool and even. Not at all reflective of how she was feeling.

  ‘How are you?’ Kim asked.

  Saffron shrugged and then nodded. ‘As well as can be expected under the circumstances.’

  ‘You do know that another child died, and we had a third incident less than an hour—’

  ‘But that’s not anything to do with Sadie, is it?’ she asked, looking from one to the other.

  ‘We can’t rule out a link between all three incidents.’

  The girl swallowed deeply but said nothing.

  ‘Saffie, I have to ask if you can think of anyone who would want to murder your younger sister, or what link she might have to Shaun Coffee-Todd?’ Kim didn’t include Christian’s name, as she remained convinced that he’d been targeted because he’d accidentally stumbled into the shower block during Shaun’s murder.

  Kim was choosing her words carefully. She had points to make and harder questions to ask but she had to remind herself that she was not dealing with a fully cooked adult, but neither was she dealing with a child.

  This sixteen-year-old was somewhere in between.