“Take a picture of me and the new girl on her first day,” Rachel said, smiling that pretty smile before giving the camera to Helen, who looked a little cross about having to pause her stapling.
Rachel posed with her arm around me. I blinked when the flash went off, so two pictures were taken in case I ruined the first.
“This way we’ll have a before and after,” Rachel said, snatching the camera from Helen and putting it back inside her bag. I didn’t think to ask before or after what. “The rest of them are all losers, especially her,” Rachel added, glancing around at the rest of the class. I turned to see a girl sitting alone at her desk reading a book. “That’s Catherine Kelly, odd as you like and best avoided. Stick with us and you’ll be okay, kid.”
I stared at the lonely-looking girl, with hair and eyebrows so blond, they were almost white. Her skin was also unusually pale, making her look like an apprentice albino. I couldn’t help but notice the ugly braces on her teeth, as she chomped away on a chocolate bar for breakfast. Her clothes were creased and covered in stains. Like the girl wearing them, they looked in need of a wash. As soon as she finished eating one chocolate bar, she opened the lid of her desk and took out another, tearing the wrapping as though she were famished. She was a skinny little thing, despite the snacks. Her big eyes reminded me of Bambi, munching on fresh grass, completely clueless that the hunters were watching. Deciding to stay away from her was not a problem. It was deciding not to that would result in disaster, but I didn’t know that at the time.
* * *
All I wanted to do for so long was to leave Blackdown and never return. Looking around the hotel bedroom now, I don’t understand how I have ended up back here. I take one last look at the photo of five girls, whose lives were changed forever not long after it was taken, then I flip it upside down and put it back on the desk. I don’t want to look at their faces anymore.
I go to the bathroom, wash my hands as though the memories have made them feel dirty, then splash some cold water on my face. When I come back out into the bedroom, the photo catches my eye again. It is faceup, even though I could have sworn I turned it over. And that isn’t all. Someone has used a pen to mark a black cross over Rachel’s face.
Him
Wednesday 05:55
The race to sleep is beaten by the sound of my phone ringing, rather than the alarm.
It’s Priya, again, and I have to tell her to slow down. My head hurts from the cheap red wine, and she’s speaking too fast for my brain to process what she is saying. I’ve slept in my clothes, lying on top of the bed in the room that was mine as a boy. I am so cold my hands struggle to hold the phone to my ear. I don’t understand at first, but then I can see that the window is open where I had a cigarette late last night. If Zoe finds out I smoked in the house—with my niece sleeping in the room next door—she’ll kill me.
I remember how good it felt at the time, not just the rush from the nicotine, but the natural high from doing something wrong and thinking I’d gotten away with it. I also remember that feeling disappearing when I sensed I was being watched from the street below. It was so dark outside that someone could easily have been staring right up at me from the shadows, and I’d never have known. I try to forget about last night, but when I sit up my head hurts even more, and I know I need coffee.
I make Priya repeat her final words, just to be sure I’ve understood them, and she says it again.
“A second body has been found in Blackdown.”
I try to formulate a response, but nothing comes.
“Did you hear me, boss?” she asks, and I realize I still haven’t said anything.
“Where was the body found?”
My voice sounds strange when I finally remember how to use it.
“St. Hilary’s. The girls’ grammar school,” she says.
I take a moment to think. I want to smoke, but I only have one cigarette left after last night, and it feels like I should probably save it.
“Did you say the girls’ school?”
“Yes, sir.”
My mind races my reactions. Two murders within two days, here, suggests we might be dealing with a serial killer. The bosses will be all over it once they know, like flies on fresh shit.
“I’m on my way.”
I shower quickly and quietly then head downstairs, trying not to wake anyone. I needn’t have bothered. Zoe is already up, fully dressed for a change, and in the kitchen. She’s watching the BBC Breakfast program.
“Want some?” she asks, sliding a pot of coffee in my direction, without looking away from the screen.