Where Wolves Fear to Prey (Manor Park Thrillers Book 1)

by G H Mockford

  He couldn’t believe his luck. As he carried out his fifth loop, she appeared to have given up and left her hunting ground. Now she entered his domain. Once they were back at her seedy place, she fell as easily as Doris had.

  Tonight there was no training mission though. Tonight he had to change his plans. He had to complete the work he had begun on his cellar and prepare to hunt a new prey. When that person had been punished for the sin they had carried out before God, as well as against him, then, and only then, could he could go back to his True Mission.

  Thirty-Six

  Charlie Blackmore got up early on Thursday morning and went straight downstairs. After they had finished eating their special meal, she and Dad had put on Mum’s favourite CD - the soundtrack to Romeo and Juliet. Then they tidied up the kitchen together. Some of the songs were rubbish, even Mum didn’t like them all, but Charlie liked the memories and the sense of closeness, the connection, it gave her.

  Charlie took the bacon and eggs out of the fridge, grabbed the frying pan and began cooking. She’d promised herself that she’d make Dad a nice if unhealthy, breakfast before she left for the day to say thank you. Maybe it would stop her thinking about going to school, too. She was dreading going and wanted to stay at home, but she knew that it would look worse if she did. As far as Charlie was concerned she had nothing to hide, she was doing the right thing and she was proud of it. She had just finished loading up the bacon and egg butties when her dad appeared in the kitchen door scratching his head.

  ‘Morning,’ he said with a yawn. ‘You beat me to it. I was going to do that.’

  ‘It’s okay, Dad, I wanted to do it.’ Charlie put the plates on the table. They ate in silence.

  Once they finished the meal, Charlie snatched up her bag, kissed her dad on the head and whispered, ‘I love you.’

  ‘I love you too, Charlie. Have a good day.’

  She left the house, looked up and down the street, and began to make her way towards Byron Comp. The familiar, short walk seemed to provide her with plenty of time to think about the day ahead. She wanted to get to school before everyone else and wait with Mrs Forrest.

  Both Mrs Forrest and Mrs Beresford had interviewed her yesterday, although they preferred to call it “a friendly chat”. She’d didn’t need to be careful with what she said. She just denied the rumours and said little else. Mrs Forrest had suggested that she come to her classroom in the morning, so she could keep an eye on her. She hated to admit it, but Charlie thought it was a good idea.

  Despite the plan about getting to school early to avoid people, there were already plenty around. Some groups went quiet, some laughed, and some called out names as she passed by. Charlie wished she was invisible. Charlie closed her ears to the insults and moved as quickly as she could past her staring, whispering, and shouting peers.

  She rounded the corner near the English block and was almost at Mrs Forrest’s, when they came round the corner from the other direction as if in a pre-planned pincer movement. It was the girls who had overheard the day before; the ones who had spread the rumours on the social networks.

  ‘Well if it’s not Little Miss Perfect,’ sneered Aimee Jackson.

  ‘A perfect little slag, I hear,’ spat Chanice Jardine.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ Char said and tried to squeeze past them.

  The three girls crowded around her like three wolves stalking weakened prey, trapping her in a corner.

  ‘What are ya gonna do if we don’t?’ Bethany said. Suddenly her arm moved, and Charlie felt a blinding pain. The air rushed from her lungs, and she collapsed to the wet tarmac.

  ‘Get up, whore,’ Aimee sniggered.

  ‘Yeah, get up, or Beth will hit you again and then they’ll be no more little bastard,’ Chanice said.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ Charlie said, rubbing her tummy. Tears ran down her face.

  ‘I said, “get up, whore”,’ Aimee repeated. There was no hint of a snigger this time, only pure malice.

  ‘Get up!’ Bethany said as she grabbed a handful of Charlie’s hair and began to pull.

  ‘Oi!’ came a man’s voice, loud, angry and protective. The girls all turned and looked.

  ‘It’s just that fucking idiot caretaker,’ Aimee said. ‘Ignore him.’

  The three girls kicked at Charlie. She pulled her knees up to protect her stomach and her forearms in front of her face, to hide the tears as much as defend herself.

  ‘Oi! Stop that,’ the caretaker shouted as he stepped up to Bethany and seized her arm, pulling her back from Charlie.

  ‘Get the fuck off me, loser,’ she screamed.

  ‘You can’t touch her,’ Chanice added, moving closer to the caretaker and trying to look as intimidating as she could. ‘We’ll ‘ave you for this!’

  Charlie looked up at her rescuer. Mr Goodhand was a little below average height, and Chanice’s heels made her almost as tall as him. The caretaker stared the girl out and then pushed Bethany away. Charlotte watched as the teenage girl fell back against the wall on the opposite side of the alleyway. She was pretty sure Mr Goodhand hadn’t pushed her that hard.

  ‘This is child abuse, man,’ Chanice said reaching to help her friend up.

  ‘Piss off,’ the caretaker answered as he bent down to check on Char. ‘You’re nothing but bullies, and bitches.’

  ‘You can’t speak to me like that,’ Chanice said.

  ‘I can talk to you any fucking way I like, now piss off, and maybe I’ll let this drop and you won’t get into trouble for attacking this girl.’

  ‘You can’t threaten me!’

  ‘I just did, now get the hell out of here before I do worse than that.’

  ‘Miss?! Miss Alec?’ Chanice suddenly called out. Charlie saw the teacher walking towards them looking formidable in her trouser suit.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ Sarah Alec said, looking at the girls and then the caretaker.

  ‘Mr Goodhand’s attacked Bethany,’ Chanice said, ‘didn’t he Aimee?’ When she looked, Aimee was nowhere to be seen.

  Sarah looked down at Char. ‘Are you all right?’

  Char nodded and picked up her Republic bag. ‘Mrs Forrest is expecting me, Miss. Is it all right if I go?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sarah said, ‘I think you better had. Go straight there, you understand?’

  Char nodded before saying, ‘Thanks, Connor.’

  ‘No problem, Char,’ he said.

  ‘That’s Mr Goodhand to you; he’s still a member of staff,’ Sarah said.

  ‘Of course, Miss. Sorry, Miss,’ Char said before she rounded the corner and disappeared into the English block.

  Once Charlie had gone, Sarah turned her attention back to the two girls and the caretaker. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘This glorified toilet cleaner attacked me!’ Bethany screamed.

  ‘There’s no need to insult Mr Goodhand. He may not be a teacher, but he’s still an adult who works here. Go to Mrs Beresford’s office. Wait for me there.’

  ‘That’s not fair he…’

  ‘Do as you’re told! Now!’ Sarah took a deep breath and looked at the young caretaker. ‘I’ll deal with Mr Goodhand.’

  Their raised voices were beginning to attract attention, and James Harrington, another member of the English team, appeared. ‘Is everything all right, Miss Alec?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Mr Harrington. These two girls need to report to Mrs Beresford. Would you mind ensuring they get there?’

  ‘Of course not. What’s happened?’

  ‘Bullying.’

  As the two girls walked off with the other teacher, Sarah was convinced Bethany Andrews swore under her breath, but she decided to let it drop since James didn’t seem to notice or react.

  She turned her attention back to the caretaker. ‘I hope you didn’t touch those girls, Connor, or you’re going to be in a lot of trouble.’

  ‘They were kicking her. I couldn’t just let them do that, could I?’

  ‘No, I suppose not. It’s good to kno
w you care, Connor. I’m going to check on Charlie, and then I’m hoping to convince the girls to let it drop. Expect a summons from Miss Arnold if I don't.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not afraid of her,’ Connor said as he turned and walked away.

  Thirty-Seven

  It was difficult to know which was louder; the doors crashing open as Char Blackmore came stumbling onto the upper floor, or her crying. A few minutes later Sarah came up. She popped her head into my classroom and quickly told me what happened before going next door. A few minutes later, Sarah went back downstairs to see Mrs Beresford.

  Things were spinning out of control and fast. I couldn’t believe that three girls had attacked Char Blackmore. Had Byron got that bad? Actually it was that bad; it was just that Arnold had cleaned the place up a bit.

  I glanced at my clock. There were fifteen minutes before the start of the day. Just enough time to get some coffee. I headed downstairs and walked into the staffroom. I was expecting to see Richard Rollins, but he wasn’t there. Instead, Liz Young was at the wall urn. She lifted a mug at me.

  ‘Yes, please,’ I said.

  ‘Richard’s not arrived yet,’ she said, a slight note of concern in her voice. I was surprised, considering how he had treated her. Maybe she had a soft spot for him. It would explain why she had never said anything good or bad about him or the rumours about them.

  ‘Is he meant to be coming to work today after being sent home?’ I asked.

  ‘As far as I know.’

  ‘Maybe he’ll phone in sick. The stress, you know? I wouldn’t be surprised,’ I said in an effort to make friendly conversation, even though it nearly made me sick to say the words.

  ‘Not that I know of. Maybe he’s just not here yet.’

  And that’s when I had a dreadful sinking feeling in my stomach. Was there a more sinister reason why Rollins hadn’t come to school? Had Paul found out about Richard? I would have to pay Charlie’s father a visit later. What if he had decided to take decisive action and struck again? I didn’t give a toss about Richard, but I had to save Paul from himself.

  Thirty-Eight

  As soon as the bell went at the end of the day, I packed up. I was determined to leave Byron Comp firmly behind, locked up for the night. Tomorrow was the last day before the holiday and it couldn’t end fast enough. I wanted a week off without any of Byron Comp’s problems. And tonight was my hot date with Sarah.

  I had to go and see Paul first though. I thought about calling him but decided I needed to see him. If he wouldn’t let me in, well, that would confirm my suspicions, which I dearly hoped weren’t true.

  As I began to leave, Mrs Forrest collared me and said, ‘Good luck tonight.’ I could literally feel my jaw drop. How the heck did she know? I’d told no one, and I was certain Sarah hadn’t either. ‘One last thing,’ she said as she stepped closer. ‘Her favourite colour is purple and her favourite flowers are lilies.’

  ‘Really? Funeral flowers?’

  ‘Yeah. She told me weeks ago in the staffroom. Us women, we’re like elephants, we never forget anything.’ She smiled.

  ‘Thanks, Nicola. For everything.’

  ‘My pleasure. Have fun, Freeman.’

  I grabbed my stuff and went to my car with a real spring in my step.

  All the spring had sprung out of me by the time I knocked on Paul’s door. I procrastinated for a while, driving up and down his road three times before I finally parked. Then, I walked by his front door at least double that before I went for it. Once I had knocked, it was done and too late to go back, and I would have to deal with any consequences. Eventually the door opened, just a little.

  ‘Mr Freeman,’ Paul said from inside, his tone a mixture of pleasant surprise and unpleasant shock.

  ‘You’re not a student, Paul, you can call me Alex,’ I said with my most disarming smile.

  ‘Come in. Have a coffee.’

  I was surprised at his friendliness and at first I was paranoid and wondered if he was hiding Rollins down below, but the cellar door was wide open.

  Paul must have seen me look because he said, ‘You’ve nothing to worry about, Alex.’

  It felt strange to have an almost complete stranger use my first name, but in some ways he wasn’t really a stranger anymore. I had become intimately entwined with his family, and now so was Sarah.

  ‘Mr Rollins isn’t down there.’

  ‘You’ve talked to Charlie, then?’

  ‘Yes. We talked it through last night. She told me he didn’t touch her, and I believe her. I’ve learnt my lesson. I’m not going to repeat my mistake.’

  ‘So she isn’t pregnant?’

  Paul went bright red.

  ‘You didn’t ask her?’

  ‘We had dinner, we snuggled on the sofa, she told me about her day and insisted that the rumours about her and Mr Rollins weren’t true. What else could I say or do?’

  I felt a little exasperated, but if Paul wanted to bury his head in the sand, and he wasn’t going to hurt Rollins, what more could I do. ‘Where’s Charlie now?’

  ‘She’s not here as usual. She’s at Jak’s. I think she’s going to spend the next few days there. Miss Arnold told me not to send her to school tomorrow.’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go Paul. If you need me for anything, let me know.’ He nodded his head. I drank the last of my coffee, got up and left so I could begin the more pleasant part of my evening.

  Thirty-Nine

  On the way home I stopped off at a florist in Carlton, which I’d been to a few times before. I reined in my enthusiasm and bought Sarah a twenty pound bouquet. I didn’t want to go overboard and put her off. I got lilies and a variety of purple flowers that the florist assured me would complement them perfectly. They certainly looked good, but twenty quid didn’t get a lot.

  Next I stopped off at Tesco. I knew she drank red wine but didn't have a clue what would be a good choice. I was tempted to phone my friend, who fancies himself as an expert on wines but decided against it. I bought a bottle with a pretty label that cost almost twenty quid.

  I drove home.

  It was almost seven o’clock by the time I was satisfied with the way I looked, and I knew I would be cutting it fine for getting to Sarah’s flat in time. Making sure I had my phone, iPod, wallet, wine, and the flowers, I hopped into my car.

  Luckily the traffic was very light, and I easily made it to the Fletcher Gate car park in the centre of the city. I made sure I locked the car, something I’d become almost obsessed with since the attack, and headed out of the multi-storey on foot. As it turned out, I was a little early, so I decided to take the scenic route past All Bar None, the Nottingham Contemporary and past the church that had been converted into a pub. I was passing the Galleries of Justice when I suddenly realized that I’d left the flowers and wine in the car.

  I cursed myself, and as I turned to go back, I bumped straight into a youth in a black hoodie. I stumbled slightly – his body was hard as nails – but he just kept going.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said out of habit rather than meaning it. He obviously had something more important to do. He turned round the corner towards the Keane’s Head, and I, for one, was glad that he didn’t stop and give me a mouthful of abuse. Pleased the situation hadn’t escalated, I headed back to the car.

  Forty

  The man in the hoodie silently cursed the idiot who walked into him but carried on walking. He would've liked to have started on him, but right now he had more important business to take care of. Business that had already taken him away from his True Mission. Maybe he could have quickly head-butted the clumsy idiot and broken his nose or, maybe, if there had been no one else around, he could have stuck him with the knife. But, he reminded himself, he had more important things to do, and the blade would be seeing action soon enough. The knife, after all, needed just as much satisfaction as he did, especially as Doris and the whore had proved to be simple tasks.

  He rounded the corner onto Saint Mary’s Gate and closed i
n on her flat. He didn’t want to do it, he really didn’t, but Sarah Alec hadn’t left him any choice. He’d really got to like her, even though she was only a woman. But he was certain she knew the truth about what he’d done and so, sadly, she really did have to go.

  Anyhow, it was all good practice.

  So far, he’d only killed them, but he decided this time he would have a little fun beforehand. The biggest decision was whether to make it quick afterwards - one deep, quick stroke across the throat or whether to enjoy his work like with the old lady. A cut here, a cut there, until, eventually, the heart just stopped because there would be no more blood to pump around.

  He couldn’t believe his luck yesterday when he got the keys. It had been so easy. Much easier than getting the others. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out the enormous bunch of, what, twenty, thirty door keys. They hadn’t been counted in a while. Eager to keep them safe, he put them back. After all, he never knew when he might need his collection, and he would never forgive himself if he lost them. All that hard work and time wasted.

  He stopped and glanced up at Sarah Alec’s apartment in the converted factory building. She was there, at the French windows. She was only wearing a towelling robe. A smile spread across his face. It would make it all so much easier. No awkward clothes to take off. He could just get on with the business at hand, and he planned on giving her exactly what she deserved.

  He watched Sarah as subtly as he could. She threw open the double doors, her arms outstretched as if she was welcoming him into her embrace. She put her hands on the safety rail and turned back into her flat.

  He moved on and withdrew the keys, ready to enter. Ready to punish.

  Forty-One

  Sarah looked down at the Keane’s Head and thought she saw someone looking up at her. Subconsciously wrapping the robe tighter about her, she stepped away from the window and headed for her bedroom.