Don't Breathe

by Heleyne Hammersley

  Phones. He could use their phones. At least ten of his classmates were in his contacts. If he could text or ring their phones one of the men might open the filing cabinet and get them all out. It wasn’t much of a distraction but it might help. Unless… if he got the message right, he might just be able to frighten the men away earlier than they’d planned.

  He dropped his right hand into his lap and rested his head on his hand again. Quickly scrolling to his messaging app, he withheld his ID and selected ten contacts to receive his text. Harley took a deep breath and hit ‘send’ praying that some of them had forgotten to put their devices on silent before they got to school.

  The air in the room seemed to shift and fill with static as different text tones erupted, amplified by the metal housing of the filing cabinet drawer. Larry shot up from where he’d been perched and looked around in confusion. ‘What the fuck…?’

  ‘It’s the phones,’ said Mo, who was closest to the filing cabinet. ‘Looks like everybody just got a text message.’

  Larry rummaged in his trouser pocket for the key and threw it to his colleague. ‘Unlock it. See what’s going on.’

  Mo followed his instructions and took out the bag of phones. He reached in like a child at a lucky dip and produced Jess’s battered Samsung.

  ‘Who’s is this?’

  Harley heard a noise from behind him.

  ‘Come here.’

  Jess moved from the back of the room to where Mo was standing.

  ‘Unlock it.’

  She tapped the screen a few times and passed the device back to Mo.

  ‘What’s it say?’ Larry asked.

  ‘Don’t worry, police are here now.’ Mo read the text slowly.

  Larry shook his head. ‘Not possible. Try another one.’

  Katie’s phone was the next out of the bag. Larry made her unlock it and obviously saw the same message.

  ‘Pass it to me,’ Larry said, reaching out a hand, palm upwards and wiggling his fingers. He read the text, frowning.

  ‘Who sent the first one?’ he asked Mo.

  ‘No user ID.’

  ‘Hmm, same here. Same message as well.’

  Harley watched as Larry raised his head, mouth widening in a wolfish grin as he scanned the room and raised his semi-automatic rifle. ‘One of you little shits has got a phone. Does one of you want to confess or do I have to start shooting?’

  22

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Cam stared at the police detective in utter incredulity. Why was he pointing a gun? Did he think Cam was involved in whatever was going on in the humanities block? ‘Why have you got a gun? Are you licensed to have that?’

  The man’s mouth slowly curved into a smile. ‘You don’t know who I am, do you? You never found out.’

  ‘Found out what? Do I know you?’

  The smile grew wider. ‘Not really, but I knew your wife. I knew Chrissie very well.’

  The insinuation behind the DI’s emphasis on ‘knew’ was obvious. This man had slept with Cam’s wife.

  ‘I’ll fucking kill you!’ Cam leapt towards Pearson, hands outstretched, no thought in his mind beyond doing as much damage as possible to the man who was taunting him. Pearson simply sidestepped him and raised the pistol a fraction higher, leaving Cam stumbling towards one of the chairs on the ‘visitor’ side of his desk.

  ‘Don’t think so,’ Pearson teased. ‘I’m not sure how you’re going to take on a man with a gun when all you’ve got is… what? Nothing really.’ The smile turned to a snarl. ‘Now sit down and listen.’

  Cam did as he was told, his disadvantage obvious.

  ‘Right. Let’s sort out this office,’ Pearson said, whipping the wires out of the phone and internet connections in the bottom of the wall next to the door. ‘And I’ll need your mobile.’

  Cam reached into his inside pocket and grudgingly handed it over, watching as Pearson put it out of reach on the table next to the coffee machine.

  ‘Good. Now, hands out.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Put your hands out. I don’t trust you not to make a run for it and I really don’t want to shoot you… yet. Oh, and if you’re thinking about yelling for your secretary I’d think again. You don’t want somebody else’s death on your conscience. Not that I think you hold yourself responsible for Chrissie. What have you managed to tell yourself? Tragic accident?’

  Cam was trying to follow what Pearson was saying while, at the same time, trying to work out what he wanted with his hands. Pearson’s intention became obvious when he removed a handful of zip ties from his pocket.

  ‘Use this to tie your left hand to the leg of your desk,’ he instructed, throwing one of the plastic strips at Cam. ‘Tightly.’

  Cam caught the tie and considered his options. He could refuse but then Pearson might kill him. Or he might disable him with a shot to the leg and tie him up anyway. Reluctantly, Cam wrapped the stiff plastic round his left wrist and awkwardly fed the pointed end through the clasp as though he were fastening a watch. He gave Pearson a long look as he pulled the end tight, securing his wrist to the metal leg of the desk.

  ‘Good.’ Pearson nodded his approval. ‘Put your right hand on the arm of the chair.’

  Cam complied and watched, helpless as Pearson secured his wrist with another zip tie. The man checked the restraint that Cam had tied and gave it a tug tighter. ‘Can’t be too careful,’ he said with a big grin.

  Cam tried not to wince as the plastic cut into his wrist. He was at enough of a disadvantage without revealing any sign of physical weakness to this maniac. ‘What do you want, Pearson?’ he asked, trying to inject a bored tone into his voice.

  ‘I want to have a little chat with you,’ Pearson replied, tucking the pistol into his belt and covering it with his suit jacket.

  ‘About Chrissie? I don’t think so.’ Cam wasn’t clear how this man had known his wife, but he had a suspicion that led him back to the photograph he’d been shown by the private detective a few weeks after Chrissie had died.

  ‘I don’t see that you have much choice,’ Pearson said. ‘You’re a captive audience.’ He laughed at his own pun. ‘Captive audience? Oh, come on, that’s funny.’

  Cam scowled at him. ‘Look, you’ve obviously got something to say so can we just get on with it?’ His voice sounded a lot stronger than he felt. What would happen when Pearson had had his say, told his story? There seemed to be only one answer to that, and it was nestled in the DI’s belt.

  ‘Okay,’ Pearson said, perching on the edge of the desk, his face inches away from Cam’s. ‘I’ll start at the beginning. There was once a lonely woman called… oh what shall we call her? Chrissie? She was married to an unpleasant and manipulative individual who was drunk on his own power. This man gave Chrissie everything she could have ever wanted except one thing. Do you know what that was, Cam?’

  Cam shook his head and sighed.

  ‘Her freedom. Because, you see, she didn’t love this man. She had a child with him and slept in the same bed; she made herself look attractive and basically did as she was told but it was all a ploy, a ruse. She started saving money; a little bit here, a little bit there, telling her husband that she’d spent more than she really had until it started to add up. Three years, she decided. Three years and their son would have left for university so she could follow him, find a flat and finally escape.’

  Cam clenched his fists. He knew that Pearson was trying to wind him up and he didn’t want to let the man know that he was succeeding. He had no doubt about the truth of what the DI was saying – he’d had his suspicions about Chrissie for months prior to her death – he just didn’t want those suspicions confirmed by Chrissie’s lover.

  Pearson hopped off the desk and paced to the office door and back, head down. He stopped, settling himself in the chair opposite Cam’s. ‘Then everything changed,’ he said.

  Cam held his breath. He could hear his heart beating inside his head; his whole body felt like it was filled with helium
and might float away if he weren’t anchored to the desk. How could he listen to this?

  ‘She met somebody,’ Pearson continued. ‘She fell in love; properly. He was a decent man and she loved him for how different he was from her husband. He wasn’t a “good” man – not in the sense of abiding by laws and sticking to rules – but she believed he loved her very much and saw that they could have a life together. If only she could get away from her husband.’

  ‘This is all bollocks,’ Cam said, finally managing to croak out a few words. ‘Chrissie loved me. She loved the life that I gave her, and she loved our son. She’d never have left me for some waster.’

  Pearson leaned across the desk, his open palms on either side of his face supporting his head in a pose that looked eerily like Munch’s Scream. ‘If she hadn’t died, Cam, she might have finally lived.’

  ‘Fuck off!’

  ‘I told her I loved her and I know she loved me. She thought I was going to help her to get away from you but there wasn’t time. It’s your fault she’s dead, your fault that we both lost her.’

  Cam was becoming convinced that Pearson was seriously unhinged. How the hell had he managed to get into the police force? Didn’t they have some sort of psychological testing in place?

  ‘It was an accident,’ he said. ‘There was something wrong with her car and she lost control.’

  ‘There was something wrong with her mind. She was worried that she wouldn’t be home when you rang to check on her, so she was speeding – that’s why she lost control. If you hadn’t treated her like crap with your mind games, she’d still be here. Well… not here, she’d be somewhere else, but not dead.’

  Cam was struggling to make sense of what he was hearing. Was this whole thing some kind of twisted revenge for Chrissie’s death? How could Pearson hope to get away with it? It made no sense that a police officer would do this – could do this.

  ‘You do know you’ll lose your job over this?’

  Pearson shook his head. ‘Unlikely.’

  ‘You’ll be kicked out of the police force – probably end up in prison and you know what happens to ex-coppers in there–’

  ‘Ex-coppers? I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick, Cam.’

  ‘Have I? It looks to me like you’ve used your influence to set all this up and I’ll make damn sure you pay for what happened to my son.’

  Pearson leaned back and laced his hands behind his head, eyes narrowed, expression serious. ‘You think I set all this up? Oh, Cam. There’s much more to it than that. And I couldn’t give a shit about losing my job – why would I? I think that might be more your concern than mine. When the police find out what you’ve done, how much you’ve stolen, do you really think you’ll still be able to work here?’

  ‘Stolen? I haven’t stolen anything.’

  Pearson smiled and leaned towards Cam. ‘Really? So there’s not 200 grand sitting in your bank account that rightfully belongs to the school?’

  Cam struggled violently to free his hands. What the hell was going on? How could this man know about the money? ‘It’s not mine. I was going to give it to somebody else,’ he panted. ‘It’s a temporary thing. It’ll be paid back in a few weeks and nobody needs to know.’

  ‘But I know,’ Pearson said. ‘And I’m going to make sure that everybody in this town knows. What will they think of you when they find out? When the police march you out of here in handcuffs?’

  ‘Penny knows!’ Cam yelled. ‘My deputy head. The money was for her. She’ll back me up.’

  Pearson shook his head. ‘Cam, Cam, Cam. You really have no idea, do you?’

  23

  Ruth Warnesford gripped her mug tightly as she raised it to her lips, trying to control the trembling in her hands. Her brain still didn’t seem to have registered that she was alive and well, her thoughts stumbling through flashback images from her ordeal. Penny Bainbridge had been incredibly kind considering the danger Annie was in. The deputy head had told Ruth to have a break and walked with her from the front desk to the staffroom where she’d made her another mug of sweet tea – she’d even sat with Ruth for a few minutes until she was finally convinced that it was safe to leave her on her own for a while.

  The image that she kept coming back to was of the classroom; the terrified faces of the students and the look of utter hopelessness that Donna Frith had given her as she’d been escorted out. Years of acting as a designated first aider had convinced her that Tom Cleaver’s wound was superficial, but she’d got the sense that the men holding the students didn’t know that. The one on the main entrance into the building had looked terrified when he’d seen the head’s son in a bloody heap on the floor and the others all seemed a bit dazed. Ruth had no idea what their plan was, but she had a strong feeling that having the students harming each other wasn’t part of it.

  The head’s response to the situation had been less than impressive, in Ruth’s opinion. She’d been Cam Cleaver’s PA for over five years, and in that time, she’d got to know him fairly well and had grown to like him less and less the more she knew. He wasn’t a good leader – he was a dictator. He expected to bark orders and to have unconditional obedience from his staff. She knew that was how he thought of them, as his staff, and she also knew that there was a growing feeling of resentment towards Cleaver among some of the older teachers. Seeing him running around the school, barely clinging on to any semblance of control, was shocking but, perhaps, not entirely out of character. Cam needed to be in control and having that control taken away had to be having an intense psychological effect on the man.

  In contrast, Penny Bainbridge had been a model of composure and clarity. Faced with the same situation, a child in dire peril, Penny had shown compassion and empathy for those around her and even now had gone to check on Cam after making sure that there was nothing further she could do for Ruth.

  The staffroom door opened just as Ruth was draining her mug, savouring the unfamiliar sweetness of the drink.

  ‘You still okay?’ Penny Bainbridge was back, slightly breathless, probably from running up the stairs.

  ‘I’m still quite shaky,’ Ruth admitted. ‘Getting there though.’

  Penny nodded. ‘Are you up to doing a job for me?’

  ‘Depends. I doubt I could move equipment in the library.’

  ‘That’s all done. It’s all set up and ready for the negotiating team. I just need to have some information ready for them and I thought you might be able to access it for me.’

  Ruth smiled, eager to help if she could. It was a request rather than a demand – the difference between the headteacher and his deputy.

  ‘We’ve had more contact from one of the men in the humanities block. They want money.’

  Relief made Ruth light-headed. It was that simple? Money could be found, a deal could be done. It was so much better than not knowing what was going on, not understanding the motives of these people.

  ‘How much?’ The question felt banal as soon as she asked it. It was irrelevant. There were children involved and their parents would give anything to have them safely home.

  ‘Half a million.’

  It seemed so little. Was that the value of the twenty or so lives in the classroom? She’d been expecting Penny to say millions, tens of millions but 500,000 was almost insulting. ‘Is that all?’

  ‘I know. I thought it didn’t seem like much. Pearson seems to think they might be testing us to see if we’re willing to find the money. If we’re willing to find half a million then why not a million, or two?’

  That didn’t seem right. ‘I thought the point of negotiating was to start high and come down?’

  Penny sighed and ran a hand through her hair. ‘Maybe ransom demands are different? Who knows? Pearson didn’t seem to find it odd.’

  ‘So, what do you want me to do?’

  Penny looked embarrassed. ‘Do you have access to the school accounts? I know Cam does, and the bursar but she’s been evacuated and Cam’s helping the detective. He
said to find you and ask you to help.’

  ‘Why can’t you do it?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘I don’t have access,’ Penny said, revealing the reason for her embarrassment. ‘When we moved to academy status, Cam wanted as few people as possible to be able to see the accounts. He said it was because the files also had details of salaries and allowances. We argued about it, but he wouldn’t give in.’

  It sounded just like Cam, Ruth thought. Control, control, control. And he wouldn’t want the other staff to know about his five per cent pay rise when they’d only been given two per cent. She was surprised that he’d not withdrawn her access to the files, but he’d never had reason to question her loyalty and she did have some responsibility for monitoring the pay of support staff.

  ‘Can you not ring the chair of governors? It’s really her call.’

  Penny grimaced. ‘I could but I’d have to tell her why and I don’t want to risk any information about our situation leaking out before the police have assessed what’s going on.’

  It made sense. The fewer people who knew about the masked men in the humanities block the better, for now. Ruth was willing to access the accounts as long as she didn’t have to make any decisions about moving money. She explained this to Penny who reassured her that this was simply an initial assessment of school funds to see if there was sufficient to meet the half million demand – if the police decided that it was appropriate for the ransom to be met.

  ‘We can go to my office,’ Penny said, standing up. ‘It’ll only take a minute.’

  Ruth mutely followed the deputy head upstairs and through the corridors, the silent classrooms oppressive and strangely sinister.

  ‘Here we go.’ Penny ushered Ruth inside and gestured to the desk. ‘If you just log on to my laptop – that’s probably the quickest way.’