Merciless Crimes: A Thrilling Closed Circle Mystery Series (Merciless Murder Mystery Thriller)

by Tikiri Herath

  I turned back around and gave a “hello” wave to the man on the steps. He was apprising us with a quizzical expression on his face. I hoped he was friendlier than he looked.

  I knew Katy and I made a strange pair. She was the tall, modelesque redhead with Irish genes while I was petite with long black hair and just about five feet with my red heels on. As different as we were on the outside, we were inseparable now. We were family, sisters, after everything we’d been through together.

  A semblance of a forced smile crossed the man’s face as we stepped up to him together.

  “Hello ladies, I’m Nick Davies,” he said.

  The three girls in the corner had vanished, and the front of the grounds appeared desolate again. The old security guard had hardly said a word or even looked up at us.

  “It’s pretty quiet here for a school,” said Katy, after we had introduced ourselves.

  “This is a private academy for young women,” replied Nick. “Not some public school.”

  Katy gave me a look to say, what a snot. But Nick had already turned around and was marching inside.

  We followed him silently through the massive doors, into a dark corridor lined with rich brown wood paneling.

  The building was as beautiful inside as it was outside.

  Ornate crown molding decorated the high-ceiling, and a dimly lit Victorian-era chandelier illuminated the hallway. We passed by an intricately carved wooden staircase with twisted handrails that curved to the floor above.

  These girls are lucky, I thought as I tripped through the passageway, trying to keep up with Nick’s long strides.

  But something was nagging at me.

  It was Sally Robertson, the school’s psychologist, who’d come to New York the day before, to request my help on behalf of the principal.

  Her strange behavior at the bakery had bothered me.

  She’d been jittery throughout her visit. She hadn’t opened up to us, other than to share the bare minimum.

  She had brought a sealed letter from the school principal addressed to me, requesting to hire my investigative services.

  I found it odd the principal had sent the school psychologist to deliver a letter when a courier could have done the job. And the envelope tab had been so loose that I had wondered if Sally had opened it and read it.

  She’d been reluctant to pass me that letter, yet something had compelled her to follow through with her job.

  Was Sally a snoop, or was there something more to her?

  Only a few minutes after Sally’s hasty departure, I received that anonymous call from a man warning me to stay away from this place.

  If anything, that call only made me want to come and see what the heck was going on in this closed-off, all-girls school in the middle of nowhere.

  This is going to be interesting, I thought as Katy and I followed Nick through a double glass door halfway along the corridor.

  “Is the principal ready to meet us?” I asked.

  “Indeed. She’s in her office right now,” said Nick, ushering us inside a large room.

  We walked into an open area, a bullpen with two desks and a row of bright orange file cabinets set against the far wall.

  Nick stepped up to a large, ornate door at the back of the room, his head bowed reverently. That was when I saw the gold name tag on the door.

  Martha May, Head Principal, Red Lake Academy.

  Nick knocked quietly.

  “Come in,” a deep female voice called out from inside.

  Nick turned the knob and opened the door, his eyes lowered as if he was too afraid to look up.

  “The ladies from New York,” he said to the floor.

  “Let them in, Nick,” came an impatient voice from inside.

  With a nod to the floor, Nick gestured for us to walk in.

  I stepped inside with Katy, wondering who intimidated Nick Davies so much.

  Chapter Four

  We walked into one of the most imposing offices I’d ever seen.

  An enormous bay window overlooked the lake and the woods in the back, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls. All the furniture in here looked antique. The room was immaculate, like someone got paid to wipe every speck of dust from every corner.

  From behind me, the door shut with a gentle thud.

  “Good afternoon.”

  A woman in an expensive woolen suit, with her hair in a neat bun, sat in an executive leather chair behind the desk. The mahogany desk, which gleamed with polish, was as enormous as the woman was diminutive, so that I hadn’t even noticed the principal at first.

  Martha May stood up.

  I straightened automatically, like a naughty kid summoned in front of a headmistress. Though she wasn’t much taller than me, her presence was strong.

  She had the look of a bulldog about her. Those firm-set jaws, those determined gray eyes, and the simple but sharp brown suit gave the impression you wouldn’t want to cross her.

  Katy and I walked over and leaned across the immense desk to shake the principal’s hand.

  “Take a seat,” she said, gesturing to the stiff leather chairs in front of her desk.

  “I’m glad you decided to take on the job to find the truant student. Sally was quiet reluctant to approach you. She was sure you’d say no, but I had faith in Madame Bouchard’s references.”

  “You knew Madame Bouchard well?” I asked.

  “A close friend.”

  She spoke in a taut voice that clearly said she wouldn’t entertain any questions on that front.

  I took my seat.

  The principal sat back down and quietly sized us up.

  Katy and I put on frozen smiles and waited.

  Win, the young computer expert in my P.I. team had wanted to join us on this investigation, but had got held back by an urgent project at the cyber security company she worked at during the day. I was glad she hadn’t come, or she’d be fidgeting by now.

  Every time I took these calls for help, I never knew who would be on the other side. I found myself trying to solve the puzzle at hand, and at the same time sleuthing the background of the person who called us in the first place.

  Martha May was going to be an interesting character to figure out.

  “It’s clear to me we need outside help,” she said finally.

  “Can you tell us the nature of your problem?” I asked. “Sally shared the headlines but not much detail.”

  The principal winced at the word headlines but composed herself.

  “One of our students has run away,” she said, her cold gray eyes on me. “This isn’t the first time she played this game. This is a terrible moment for this to happen at my school. It’s bad timing all around.”

  “Oh?” I said, arching my brow and leaning back in my seat.

  Was there a good time for a student to run away?

  “Sally mentioned this student had played truant before,” I said. “How often did that happen?”

  “Twice now and always on a Saturday night, just like this time.” A dark shadow crossed the principal’s face. “I don’t condone bad behavior in my school.”

  I nodded. She didn’t sound like she tolerated much of anything.

  “This girl comes from a rich Silicon Valley family and was spoiled rotten by the time she arrived,” she continued. “Parents don’t discipline their children like they used to.”

  From the corner of my eyes, I saw Katy flinch.

  “Some of these girls think they can do whatever they want, whenever they want,” continued the principal. “But they learn quickly they can’t do that here. They don’t realize we have a reputation to protect. My education and disciplinary methods are exactly why their families send them here in the first place. This is the finest boarding school on this side of the country.”

  She leaned across the desk.

  “These students don’t appreciate my hard work. But when they finish with me, they will have been trained to become the leaders of tomorrow.”

&n
bsp; “That’s wonderful,” said Katy, her smile widening.

  The principal’s eyes narrowed.

  “When my girls graduate, they go on to Harvard, Stanford, and the London School of Economics. That is not a small feat and I do not take my responsibilities lightly.”

  Katy sat up. “How commendable. I’m sure their parents appreciate your efforts. I certainly would.”

  I could already see my friend’s brain whirring as she thought of getting Chantelle into Harvard.

  With an appreciative nod at Katy, Martha May leaned back in her chair and brought her fingertips together.

  “I have established strict protocols. Class attendance is mandatory unless they have a note from the nurse, which is rare, I assure you. They must show up at mealtimes and be dressed appropriately. They must respect the school’s curfew hours, which start at seven in the evening till seven in the morning. No exceptions. My students know to take my instructions seriously.”

  She paused.

  “Except for this girl,” said Martha, her voice crisp. “She’s a handful in every sense of the word.”

  “Can you tell us about her whereabouts on her last day?” I asked.

  “According to her teachers, she was present in all her classes and had her meals in the dining hall as usual. At seven in the evening, curfew time, she went into her dorm room like all the other girls, as expected.”

  She leaned in, a deep frown on her face.

  “That was the last anyone saw her. She didn’t show up for breakfast. When Sally went to check on her, her room was empty.”

  Chapter Five

  “She vanished in the middle of the night?” said Katy.

  “I’m afraid so,” replied Martha May.

  “What about the security guard up front?” I asked. “Did he see anything?”

  I doubted that elderly man could see anymore, let alone keep watch, but I didn’t let on to the principal.

  “He only works during the day. Besides, he’s one of my charity cases.”

  “Charity cases?” asked Katy.

  “He’s been with the school since he was a teenager. He hasn’t left the school grounds since then and takes his job very seriously. He will probably die in that chair. I can’t stop him now. I doubt he saw anything.”

  “What about the teachers?” I asked.

  Martha spread her arms wide.

  “Sally, our school psychologist whom you met, questioned the staff and the teachers, but no one saw a thing.”

  “And the other students?”

  Martha was quiet for a minute. I waited, wondering why it was so difficult to answer a simple question.

  “I haven’t shared this news with the student body,” she said finally. “I don’t want any copycats running off, thinking they can get away with this kind of misbehavior. But I would have heard by now if any of them saw something.”

  “What about your security system?” I asked.

  “I have cameras installed in all the corridors. We checked the footage, but it seems that she never left her room.”

  “Could she have slipped out her window?”

  “The dorm rooms are on the third floor of this building. That would be a pretty daring feat for a fifteen-year-old.”

  I was sure a fifteen-year-old could do that and more.

  “Is there any way she could have left the grounds after seven in the evening?” asked Katy.

  “Those gates lock at seven p.m. and they remain locked till seven in the morning. They’re also electrified, so no one can climb over them, if that’s where you’re going with this. An impossible operation.”

  Impossible?

  David and Tetyana, the security experts on my team, had shown us how to step over an electrified fence without getting zapped. Then again, they had been paramilitary soldiers, not high school kids.

  “How did she run away the previous times?” I asked.

  “That was an oversight on my part. I had that electric fence and the surveillance system installed exactly to stop this kind of unruly behavior.”

  “There seems to be a pattern here,” said Katy. “She may have found a way to outsmart your security system.”

  Martha rubbed her eyes like she was tired.

  “What about the school grounds?” I said. “She could still be on the estate. You have a sizable piece of land. Could she have got lost in the woods in the back?”

  “Most of the girls here would rather give their right arm than walk into the woods. My Phys Ed teacher has a heck of a time getting them to even walk the trail around the lake. They’d rather shop online than go on a hike. You wouldn’t imagine the excuses they come up with.”

  She shook her head.

  “No one has ventured into the woods since I can remember. Not even that old guard up front.”

  “Have you checked, though?” I said. “To eliminate the possibility?”

  She nodded.

  “Sally, Nick, and Sam, my gardener, searched as far as they could on foot. Nick even sent a drone over the estate, but they found nothing.”

  She paused.

  “She left a message in her room, though.”

  I leaned forward.

  “What did it say?”

  “In essence, she’ll be returning shortly, and to not tell her parents or go looking for her.”

  Martha paused and let out a loud sigh.

  “All the other times, she fumbled in full view of the cameras and got caught quickly enough. Within hours. This time, she planned it well. Too well.”

  “Could she have had outside help?”

  “Sally is close to the students and has her ear on the rumor mill. She told me the girl may have a boyfriend in town, but the police found nothing to confirm this boyfriend exists.”

  “Could we see the girl’s room?” I asked. “I’d like to see that message.”

  Martha nodded.

  “I’ve asked Nick to give you the spare key.”

  “I’d like to speak with all your staff and teachers,” I said. “Especially Sally. She also dropped something of hers when she came to visit us, which I’d like to return.”

  “Oh?”

  “An earring,” I said, glad I had a good excuse to speak with the reluctant Sally. “I picked it up and brought it with me.”

  Martha gave a shrug, like she didn’t care either way.

  “I don’t think Sally knows any more than me, but if it helps to find the girl, talk to her. Just don’t divulge anything to the students. That’s all I ask.”

  “What about the girl’s phone?” I said. “Have you located it yet?”

  “She left it in her room.”

  I raised an eyebrow. That didn’t sound like a runaway to me.

  The principal’s face darkened.

  “There is one promise I’d like you to make.”

  Katy and I exchanged a quick glance.

  “What would that be?” I asked.

  “The reason I brought you in is that there is only so much I can tell the police. The local chief is a good friend of this school. He knows a girl has run off, and he understands the need for discretion.”

  She stared at us.

  We stared back.

  Something bothered me about the way she described the chief's relationship with the school.

  “When Madame Bouchard referred you to me last year,” she continued, “she said you were trained by the CIA and Mossad, and had worked miracles finding lost and missing children around the world.”

  I nodded. That much was true.

  “She also said you understood diplomacy and tact. The last thing I want is to hire a run-of-the-mill local investigator who doesn’t understand the basics. Would you assure me of your discretion?”

  It took me a moment to answer. I nodded slowly, wondering what I was missing here.

  A girl had disappeared. To my mind, the entire state’s police teams should be out looking for her. How did the local chief not initiate a proper search?

  The news of a missing g
irl always made my blood run cold. My entire found family had escaped a dark past where we’d been taken, stolen and traded, so I never took these cases lightly. But the principal seemed sure the girl was playing truant.

  There was more to this story she wasn’t telling us.

  “I cannot have any of this go out,” Martha May was saying. “If the media gets a hold of this story, it will be the end of this school. I hope you understand the gravitas of the situation.”

  She’d been talking a lot about the situation she’d found herself in, but very little about the student. I didn’t even know the girl’s name.

  “Can you tell us more about the girl?” I asked.

  “Brianna Madison,” replied Martha, her eyes narrowing.

  She picked up a large hardcover book from the corner of her desk, flipped it open, and pushed it toward us.

  It was a high school yearbook.

  She tapped on the photo of a young girl. Her pitch-black dyed hair was cut short and spiked with gel, and her face was slathered in heavy makeup, with dark eyeliner and blood-red lipstick.

  The girl was staring icily at the camera, the corner of her mouth turned into a contemptuous smile that goaded the viewer to say something. Anything. This was a girl itching for a fight.

  Just like Bibi, my bakery’s delivery girl, I thought. A true rebel without a cause.

  Brianna wasn’t someone who could easily blend into a crowd or get lost in a small town. She’d stand out anywhere. Even Manhattan.

  “I have high standards in this school,” said Martha May, her index finger jabbing angrily at the girl’s face. “I have a dress code. I have rules. Her behavior has been nothing but egregious from the first day.”

  She glared at us.

  “This girl has blatantly refused to toe the line, time and time again. She’s been a thorn in my side ever since she arrived.”

  Martha May leaned forward and bared her teeth. Katy and I pulled back involuntarily, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d imagined fangs.

  “Brianna is the daughter of my biggest donor. But if I must speak frankly, she’s nothing but a self-entitled, bratty little punk who needs severe discipline beaten into her.”

  Chapter Six