Stacey smiled reassuringly as she keyed herself back into the corridor.
‘This way,’ she said, leading the woman along the hallway to interview room one. ‘We can talk in here. Can I get you a coffee, tea, a cold—’
‘Nothing, thank you, I’m fine.’
She looked anything but fine, Stacey thought, as she watched the movement of her hands clenching and unclenching in her jacket pockets.
Stacey sat down and invited the woman to do the same thing. She shook her head. ‘Your colleague, he visited my old house looking for me, well, for Harrison, actually.’
Of course. Stacey remembered now. He’d called her to see if she had any other address for the Forbes family, and she’d been too busy with the boss’s work to help. This was the third kid who had left Heathcrest during the middle of the year.
‘My name is Katherine Forbes, Harrison’s mother.’
‘Thank you for coming in, Mrs Forbes. I don’t know if you’re aware that we’ve been investigating—’
‘I’m aware,’ she said, offering nothing more.
‘My colleague has been rather interested in the secret clubs at Heathcrest and particularly in why some students just seemed to disappear mid-term. Harrison was one of those students, Mrs Forbes. Was there some kind of incident?’
‘Incident,’ she spat as her face suddenly spurred into life. ‘Is that what you’d call it? My son’s life in ruins is an incident?’
Stacey was instantly sorry to have caused offence but as she didn’t know exactly what had happened she had no clue what they were talking about.
‘Mrs Forbes, I don’t have all the details of your—’
‘Isn’t that why your colleague called by the house?’
‘All I know is that one term Harrison was at Heathcrest but the next he wasn’t and that my colleague was keen to find out more about it. Can you tell me why, Mrs Forbes?’
‘Because he was tackled, officer, on the hockey field. Both knees smashed by two of his classmates while playing a sport.’
Stacey balked. ‘I’m so sorry to hear—’
‘An accident, they called it,’ she said, coming closer. Seeing the rage in her eyes Stacey found herself sitting back in her chair. ‘The teachers and kids. A tragic incident of overzealous play. My child is sixteen years of age and will never walk unaided again.’
‘But, still, he has—’
‘Without distance running he has nothing. It was his passion. It was his life. The injury was intentional, officer,’ she said.
‘Was it jealousy?’ Stacey asked. Perhaps someone had wanted him off the sports team.
The woman shook her head.
‘And you moved house because of—’
‘Of course not. We moved because of what happened later.’
Stacey sat forward. The kid had been permanently disabled and there was more?
‘On the day that we collected Harrison from the hospital we had a car accident. We were a few miles away from home when a white transit van overtook us at speed and then slammed on his brakes right in front of us. We ploughed straight into the back of him. If my husband hadn’t automatically slowed down, we would all be dead. And that was the intention. The driver and van were never found.’
Stacey tried to process what she’d heard.
The woman shuddered. ‘My whole family was in that car.’
‘So, are you saying all of this happened because someone was jealous of his athletic ability?’
‘Of course not. It was punishment.’
‘For what?’ she asked.
‘Refusing the card.’
‘“Refusing the card”?’ Stacey queried. Now she was lost.
‘Turning down the groups,’ she explained. ‘An ace of spades was left in his bed. He gave it back and said no.’
‘And?’ she asked as dread began to form in her stomach.
‘If you know anything about that damned place you should know by now that no one refuses the card.’
Ninety-One
Kim knocked and entered the office of Principal Thorpe.
She was rewarded with the irritation that crossed his face before his stock smile, etched with tolerance, took its place.
‘You’re here for the memorial?’ he asked, smoothing his hands over the breast of his tux as though bringing attention to his attire.
‘Not exactly, Mr Thorpe,’ Kim answered, sitting down.
He hesitated before taking a seat himself, but the glance at his watch was for her benefit.
‘Unfortunately we still have three deaths and a traumatised little boy in hospital not yet explained at your school.’ And her directness was for his benefit. ‘So, what can you tell us about a young lady named Lorraine Peters?’ she asked, placing the printout on his desk.
His face lost some of its colour as his eyebrows drew together.
‘I don’t… I mean… what…’
Clearly, not a question he’d been expecting.
‘You remember her?’ she asked.
He nodded but offered no more stuttering responses.
‘And you know how she died?’
He nodded.
‘Sorry. I’d like you to tell me how she died,’ Kim clarified.
‘She fell into the swimming pool, if I remember…’
‘I’m not sure “fell” is correct but, yes, she definitely landed and died in the swimming pool. That we are sure of. Did you know she was pregnant?’
He nodded, shook his head and then nodded again.
‘Sorry, Mr Thorpe, but which is it?’ Kim asked, confused.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know at the time, but I found out afterwards.’
‘Mr Thorpe, are you aware of any of your students having an illegal abortion?’ she asked.
He appeared both horrified and flustered as his brain tried to keep up with the change in direction of her questions.
‘It’s okay, we’ll come back to that.’
That had been a deliberate change of subject. He was working too hard on trying to pre-empt what she was going to say next about Lorraine Peters, and she didn’t want him forearmed. His guardedness told her he was hiding something.
‘Sir, you were here at the same time Lorraine Peters and her baby died. As were Laurence Winters, Anthony Coffee-Todd, Graham Steele, and Doctor Cordell. You were all Spades at the exact—’
‘I was not a Spade,’ he spat at her, his face screwed up with bitterness. ‘I detest those groups.’
‘But you know what went on, don’t you?’ she pushed.
‘I don’t know what—’
‘Something happened to that girl that is somehow linked to the events of this week, and you’re protecting someone,’ she accused.
‘I’m not, I swear,’ he protested. ‘I wouldn’t do that. I don’t know what really happened to Lorraine.’
‘So, were you or one of the boys tested?’ she asked, tapping the printout, ‘to see if you were the father of her unborn child.’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘We all were.’
The colour that had left his face at the word ‘abortion’ now came back into his cheeks like a tidal wave.
‘Mr Thorpe, just how well did you know Lorraine Peters?’
He hesitated before answering and all pretence fell from his face.
‘Inspector, I knew her very well indeed.’
Ninety-Two
Dawson paused before knocking on the closed door.
A few seconds passed before it was opened by a girl he didn’t recognise who glowered at him and then tipped her head and smiled.
‘Is Tilly around?’ he asked.
The girl shook her head as he heard a familiar voice.
‘Jesus, you again?’
He turned to see Tilly heading towards them dressed in a towelling robe, carrying a toiletry bag and her clothes.
‘I’ve already told you, I’m too young for you so—’
‘Bloody hell, Tilly,’ he said, looking around to see if anyone was listening. E
ven in joke, such a comment could ruin his career.
She laughed out loud. ‘Trust me, in this place they’re all so self-absorbed that if they don’t hear their own name attached to the sentence it doesn’t even register.’
Assessing her attire he held up his hand. ‘It’s fine, I can come back.’
Even with another girl in the room there was no way he was going to talk to a teenage girl who wasn’t properly dressed.
‘It’s okay,’ she said, untying her robe.
He protested but then saw that Tilly was fully dressed in a short black skirt with black tights and a floral shirt.
‘Just didn’t want to get anything on my clothes when I do my make-up,’ she explained.
Of course. The girls were getting ready to go to the memorial service.
‘Could I have a word?’ he asked. ‘I won’t keep you long.’
‘Sure,’ she said, stepping into the room.
‘In private,’ he said, glancing at the two girls sitting on the bed.
Tilly glanced at them apologetically. They grumbled and left the room.
‘Can you leave the door open, please?’ he called after them. ‘They’re not going to the memorial?’ he asked, noting their ripped jeans and tee shirts.
Tilly shook her head. ‘Depressing enough when it was a concert but now it’s a memorial.’ She frowned. ‘Shit, that was insensitive, wasn’t it?’
‘A bit,’ he acknowledged, sitting at the end of Sadie’s bed as Tilly sat at the desk and adjusted a small mirror to the correct position.
‘So, why are you going?’ he asked. Even she’d admitted that the two of them weren’t particularly close.
‘Thorpe asked me. He wanted one of Sadie’s friends to say a few words, and I was the closest thing he could find.’
The sentiment saddened him for some reason. A thirteen-year-old girl had been so detached from her peers that it was a struggle to find anyone to mourn her death.
‘Tilly, I need to ask you something,’ he said seriously. ‘It’s confidential and sensitive, okay?’
She nodded, looking pensive.
‘I’ve heard rumours of girls from this school having illegal abortions. Do you know anything about it?’
The shake of her head was immediate and definite, but he wasn’t watching the head movement, he was watching her eyes for deceit. And he caught her unconscious glance at Sadie’s bed.
‘You’re not saying Sadie…’
‘No,’ she said, emphatically.
‘But you know something, Tilly. I know you do.’
Again, she shook her head.
‘I don’t. Honestly, I don’t. I’m just shocked. I mean, where did that come from? What makes you think someone’s had an abortion?’
‘You’re asking questions just a few seconds too late, Tilly,’ he said, knowingly.
She shook her head and licked her bottom lip while trying to hold his gaze to prove her point.
Dawson thought for a moment. This was not the confident, assured girl he had spoken to earlier in the week. This girl looked thirteen. And frightened.
‘Tilly, I know you’re scared to talk out of turn, but I need you to be honest. Someone else might be in danger, so if you know something…’
‘Cordell,’ she said, quietly, looking at the door. ‘He’s a Spade from way back. It’s common knowledge amongst the girls that he’s the one you go to if you’re in trouble; however late you are, he’ll get rid of it.’
‘Go on,’ he urged, gently.
‘Miss Wade pulled me aside one day and told me about a poem Sadie had written and asked me if I knew if she was in any kind of trouble.’
‘Did you read the poem?’ Dawson asked.
She shook her head. ‘Miss Wade had given it to someone else to look at, but she told me it was all about abortion.’
Tilly began to colour as she chewed her bottom lip.
‘Tell me everything, Tilly,’ he prompted gently.
‘I read Sadie’s diary. I was just trying to help,’ she said, guiltily. ‘I was going to tell Miss Wade anything I found, I swear. I was just making sure Sadie was okay.’
‘Have you still got her diary now?’ Dawson asked, remembering it was still missing.
‘No, I promise. I put it straight back in her backpack. I only looked once and nearly had a panic attack that she’d come in and catch me.’
‘And what did you read in there, Tilly?’ he asked.
‘Enough to put two and two together.’
‘Who had the illegal abortion?’ he asked.
‘I think you already know.’
Ninety-Three
‘We were the same age and I was her study partner,’ Thorpe said, standing up and moving to the window. ‘We met in the library three evenings a week, at first.’
Kim felt a rumbling in her stomach that had nothing to do with hunger.
‘I felt sorry for her when she first came to Heathcrest. A person thrust into this environment amongst peers whose futures at the school had been preordained from birth. Heathcrest didn’t take too well to new things. Treated them as oddities, and a girl plucked from the local comprehensive was an oddity indeed.’
He took a deep breath.
‘We were in the same maths group. A subject she struggled with and I did not. I offered to help her, and we met in the library to—’
‘What was she like?’ Kim asked.
He smiled but was ready to answer. ‘Sad, lonely and eager to fit in. I always felt that the dream of competition in swimming at the highest level was more a dream of her mother’s than her own. Don’t get me wrong, she loved the sport. Only someone who truly loves what they’re doing trains on the level of championship competitors, but I felt that the joy was being sucked out of it for her.
‘At her old school swimming was just a part of who she was. She had friends, interests, familiarity, normality. I think all of that changed when she came here. Her whole life became about swimming. It was the only reason she was here.’
‘The girls didn’t like her?’ Bryant asked.
Thorpe turned and sat down.
‘I saw it back then, and I see it even more clearly now as each new year begins. The groups form, the girls size each other up, form into packs of leaders and followers, assess their competition. Lorraine started part way through the school year. The packs were formed and there was no space for anyone new. It’s one of the reasons I’ve tried so hard to stamp out the wretched elite societies and clubs here at Heathcrest. They benefit the few and demean the many. Kids not chosen already feel inferior, which can stay with them for life.’
‘Were you part of one of those societies?’ Kim asked.
He shook his head.
But you wanted to be, Kim thought.
‘Was Lorraine bullied?’ Bryant asked.
‘Ignored and isolated, I think would be a fairer assessment,’ he said sadly.
Not by everyone, Kim thought. The girl had been pregnant, so someone had been paying her attention.
‘Did she start to miss your study lessons like she did with swimming practice?’ Kim asked.
‘Now and again, but we both did. Sometimes it was clear that even when she was there, she wasn’t. I’d look up from my books, and she’d be staring into space.’
‘Did you ask her what was wrong?’
‘A few times but she wouldn’t tell me.’
Kim sighed heavily. Lorraine Peters had been thrust into a world that was totally alien to her. The same rules no longer applied. Here at Heathcrest it didn’t matter how hard she’d worked or how promising an athlete she was, she would never have fitted in. She’d been miserable, lonely and frightened, and someone here had taken advantage of all those things, courted her, possibly manipulated her and ruined her future. All for the sake of having sex with her.
Kim couldn’t help feeling that once they found the father they would also find the murderer.
She narrowed her gaze. ‘Principal Thorpe, were you the father of Lorraine’s
baby?’
He shook his head without hesitation. ‘No, officer, I was not.’
‘But you were in love with her?’ she pressed.
‘Oh yes, and I probably still am.’
Ninety-Four
Dawson pushed himself through the backstage chaos of the memorial service. A boys’ choir dressed in black were chattering loudly as two girls attempted to practise the violin.
A smartly dressed teenager barged past with a trombone. He stopped dead as a familiar figure came towards him, her satchel stretched diagonally across her body.
‘Stace, what the bloody hell are you—’
‘I need to talk to you,’ she said, guiding him to the edge of the room.
He took out his phone. ‘That’s what these are for, Stace,’ he said, sarcastically.
‘Yeah if they’re switched on, you moron,’ she replied.
He checked. Damn, he’d run out of charge, again.
‘You sure this is a memorial service?’ Stacey asked.
Dawson saw her point. The level of excitement was palpable, kids running round, eager to perform, take their moment in the spotlight, impress their teachers, peers and parents.
He shook his head. As yet he’d heard no mention of any of the names of their victims.
‘Mrs Forbes came to the station to see you,’ Stacey said.
The name sounded familiar.
‘Harrison Forbes, the third kid who left term part way through.’
‘Got it,’ he said and then opened his eyes wide. ‘She came in to the station?’
‘Oh yeah, and she hasn’t signed any non-disclosure agreement, she’s just terrified that they’ll try and get her son again,’ Stacey said. ‘Apparently it doesn’t end if a kid refuses the—’
‘Whoa, back up, Stace. What do you mean, go after him again?’ Dawson asked.
So far, he’d found a girl who had almost died from a severe asthma attack, a teenager on life support after trying to drink himself to death, and now it looked like his instinct had been right about Harrison Forbes. For a bunch of clubs that weren’t supposed to exist any more they sure were leaving a lot of casualties behind.
Dying Truth: A completely gripping crime thriller Page 26
