Final Term E-Book

Leigh Russell

• Herausgeber: No Exit Press
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Seitenzahl: 439

Beschreibung

His glove pressed hard against her mouth, filling her nostrils with the stale smell of leather as he pushed her head right back, making her choke. Panicking she kicked out, but she wasn't strong enough to push him away. When a young girl is found dead in the woods, all the evidence seems to point to the teacher she has just accused of molesting her. After all, with his career, and marriage, under threat, he appears to have the most to lose. But for DI Geraldine Steel things aren't adding up, even though her colleagues disagree, she is certain they have accused the wrong man. Then the girl's best friend is murdered, discovered close to where Cassie's body was found. Could this be because she was able to expose the killer's real identity, or are they now hunting for a serial killer? Are they unwitting pawns, being drawn into a game with rules they don't understand? With time running out, can Steel uncover the truth before the body count grows even more… A nail-biting thriller that will have you hooked. If you're a fan of Angela Marsons, Mel Sherratt and Karin Slaughter, you'll love Leigh Russell. Can be read as a stand-alone.

Leseprobe

CRITICAL ACCLAIM FOR LEIGH RUSSELL

‘A million readers can’t be wrong! Clear some time in your day, sit back and enjoy a bloody good read’ – Howard Linskey

‘Taut and compelling’ – Peter James

‘Leigh Russell is one to watch’ – Lee Child

‘Leigh Russell has become one of the most impressively dependable purveyors of the English police procedural’ – Marcel Berlins, Times

‘A brilliant talent in the thriller field’ – Jeffery Deaver

‘Brilliant and chilling, Leigh Russell delivers a cracker of a read!’ – Martina Cole

‘A great plot that keeps you guessing right until the very end, some subtle subplots, brilliant characters both old and new and as ever a completely gripping read’ – Life of Crime

‘A fascinating gripping read. The many twists kept me on my toes and second guessing myself’ – Over The Rainbow Bookblog

‘Well paced with marvellously well rounded characters and a clever plot that make this another thriller of a read from Leigh Russell’ – Orlando Books

‘A well-written, fast-paced and very enjoyable thriller’ – The Book Lovers Boudoir

‘An edge of your seat thriller, that will keep you guessing’ – Honest Mam Reader

‘Well paced, has red herrings and twists galore, keeps your attention and sucks you right into its pages’ – Books by Bindu

‘5 stars!! Another super addition to one of my favourite series which remains as engrossing and fresh as ever!’ – The Word is Out

‘A nerve-twisting tour de force that will leave readers on the edge of their seats, Leigh Russell’s latest Detective Geraldine Steel thriller is a terrifying page-turner by this superb crime writer’ – Bookish Jottings

‘An absolute delight’ – The Literary Shed

‘I simply couldn’t put it down’ – Shell Baker, Chelle’s Book Reviews

‘If you love a good action-packed crime novel, full of complex characters and unexpected twists, this is one for you’ – Rachel Emms, Chillers, Killers and Thrillers

‘All the things a mystery should be: intriguing, enthralling, tense and utterly absorbing’ – Best Crime Books

‘A series that can rival other major crime writers out there…’ – Best Books to Read

‘Sharp, intelligent and well plotted’ – Crime Fiction Lover

‘Another corker of a book from Leigh Russell… Russell’s talent for writing top-quality crime fiction just keeps on growing…’ – Euro Crime

‘A definite must read for crime thriller fans everywhere’ – Newbooks Magazine

‘Russell’s strength as a writer is her ability to portray believable characters’ – Crime Squad

‘A well-written, well-plotted crime novel with fantastic pace and lots of intrigue’ – Bookersatz

‘An encounter that will take readers into the darkest recesses of the human psyche’ – Crime Time

‘Well written and chock full of surprises, this hard-hitting, edge-of-the-seat instalment is yet another treat… Geraldine Steel looks set to become a household name. Highly recommended’ – Euro Crime

‘Good, old-fashioned, heart-hammering police thriller… a no-frills delivery of pure excitement’ – SAGA Magazine

‘A gritty and totally addictive novel’ – New York Journal of Books

To Michael, Jo, Phillipa, Phil, Rian, and Kezia

With my love

Glossary of Acronyms

DCI – Detective Chief Inspector (senior officer on case)

DI – Detective Inspector

DS – Detective Sergeant

SOCO – scene of crime officer (collects forensic evidence at scene)

PM – Post Mortem or Autopsy (examination of dead body to establish cause of death)

CCTV – Closed Circuit Television (security cameras)

VIIDO – Visual Images, Identification and Detections Office

MIT – Murder Investigation Team

1

Cassie applied her lipstick quickly. It was different from the nude colour she generally wore to school. ‘Luscious’ was the description of that online, although it scarcely made any difference to her appearance. Until they reached the sixth form, pupils weren’t even allowed to wear something as subtle as that. Not content with forcing pupils to wear uniform, the teachers had regulations governing make-up, jewellery, shoes, hair… everything they could possibly think of. But she was sixteen, and they couldn’t stop her from doing whatever she wanted. It probably wasn’t even legal for them to try. She popped another piece of bubble gum in her mouth and sighed. The initial burst of sweetness was almost sharp in its intensity, but after a few minutes the gum became tasteless.

She pouted at her reflection in the mirror. Her lips, now a gorgeous bright pink, were lush enough for her purpose. Satisfied, she set to work on her eyes. While the lipstick was the most important element of her make-up, there was no point in leaving the job half done. Deftly, she applied smoky grey eye shadow and more mascara. Seeing her eyelashes stuck together in tiny clumps, she swore aloud. The cheap stuff always ended up clogged, and she had to use her fingers to separate the lashes. Very soon she would be able to afford expensive make-up, instead of the shit she was reduced to using now.

Stuffing her cosmetics back in her school bag, she took one last look at her reflection. Commonplace enough on a night out, her make-up looked sensational with her school uniform, and her blonde hair could have been natural if you didn’t look too closely. There was no way Sir was going to be able to resist at least a flicker of desire once they were alone together. And that was all she needed. She glanced at her phone, aware that timing was crucial if she was going to catch him on his own. Not long now. Undoing another button on her shirt, she yanked her tits up to deepen her cleavage.

Two sixth form girls came in and glared at her in the mirror.

‘Slag,’ one of them muttered, loudly enough for them all to hear.

Cassie stared pointedly at the speaker’s frizzy ginger hair. ‘Can’t you do nothing with that hair?’ she retorted.

The ginger’s friend giggled.

‘Stupid slag,’ the girl repeated.

‘I ain’t done nothing. Anyone can see I’m hot,’ Cassie replied smugly.

‘That’s because you get your tits out any time you see a bloke,’ the ginger-haired girl said.

‘We all know a slag when we see one,’ the other girl murmured, barely loudly enough to be heard.

Cassie rounded on her, sensing her timidity. ‘Who you calling a slag? You shut your fucking mouth.’

The ginger-haired girl sniggered. ‘Slag. You open your legs for a stick of gum.’

‘Fuck off, I never,’ Cassie replied.

She spat her gum straight into the girl’s frizzy ginger hair. The girl shrieked in indignation and swore at Cassie who darted off, laughing.

‘Stupid bitch,’ she called out as she left.

‘Don’t worry, she’ll get what’s coming to her,’ Cassie heard one of the girls say before the door swung shut.

‘Oh, fuck off,’ Cassie muttered under her breath. ‘I gotta go.’

She hurried along the corridor and chose a position from where she could watch Mr Moore’s door unnoticed. It wasn’t long before a class came charging out of his room, seconds after the bell. Jostling and jabbering, they barged past one another with barely a glance in her direction. Normally she would have been put out at being ignored by her peers, but right now she was preoccupied with more important matters. A rush of excitement flooded through her and she mumbled under her breath, rehearsing her painstakingly prepared script.

If only she’d been sixteen and streetwise when her stepfather had moved in with them. He had gone, thank fuck, and left them alone, but not before he’d taught Cassie more than she wanted to know. He had hurt her, really hurt her, but through that pain had come her power because he had shown her the way to use her body to get what she wanted. She hadn’t been able to stop her stepfather, but now she knew better. And her sister was safe. Cassie would never have let her stepfather assault her sister like that. Just thinking about it made her angry. The other teachers had better not cross her or they’d end up going the same way as that pervert. She spat out her gum in anticipation and waited.

The class seemed to take forever to leave. Even when the door closed she couldn’t be certain no one had stayed behind to ask a question. More likely, Sir might be keeping someone back for misbehaving. Pressing her lips together, she felt the greasy texture of her lipstick as she stole towards the door. Peering through the glass panel, she grinned, relieved to see he was alone in the room. She took a deep breath to steady herself, knowing that she might only have this one chance. Stealthily she opened the door and slipped into the room. Absorbed in rearranging a pile of papers on his desk, Mr Moore didn’t hear her enter. By the time he was aware of her presence, she had reached his large wooden desk, its surface chipped and scratched from decades of use. Swiftly she dodged around it, until they were face to face without any barrier between them. They were almost touching.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, standing up.

‘I had to see you,’ she replied, her voice husky with the exhilaration of a sudden access of power. ‘I know you been feeling the same way.’

His eyes widened in alarm. ‘What are you talking about? I don’t know what you want, but you need to leave. Now. You can’t be talking to me like this. Not here.’

She revelled in his uncertainty. He had been careful to avoid potentially compromising situations, never meeting her alone in school. Now they were together, just the two of them, and she was standing in front of him, blocking his exit route.

‘I know you want it too,’ she murmured, relishing his discomfort. ‘I seen you looking at me. You can’t keep your eyes off me.’

‘We’re not having this conversation,’ he said.

His voice was cold, but she could see the fear in his eyes as he realised he was hovering on the edge of an abyss. They both knew she could completely destroy his career, if she chose.

‘I want you to leave right now,’ he insisted, frowning.

Grinning, she licked her pink lips. ‘I know what you want.’

His cheeks turned red. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ he snapped. ‘This has gone far enough. We’re in school. The bell’s about to go. My next class will be here any minute.’

She shrugged, relishing his flustered response. ‘So? What do we care? The others can think what they like. This is about you and me, innit? I know all about you, Sir.’ She let the last word linger on her lips in a drawn out hiss.

With a frantic glare, Mr Moore fumbled in his pocket, muttering at her to stop her nonsense. He might be clever, but he was making a big mistake if he thought he could dismiss her so easily. Seeing the angry determination in his face, she hated him, not only as an individual, but for everything he represented. With a grunt of annoyance, she slapped the phone out of his hand and watched his mouth open in surprise as it went skittering across the floor.

‘Stop this at once,’ he exclaimed. ‘You have no idea what you’re doing.’

He was wrong. She knew perfectly well that she was toying with his future, and she understood exactly what was at stake for him. He thought she was just another girl with dyed blonde hair and clogged mascara, no different to many other girls who passed in front of him in the course of the day.

‘Is it about your end of term grade?’ he went on, although they both knew that wasn’t what she was after.

She pushed her lips out in a practised pout. ‘This isn’t about school.’

She moved closer, until her breasts were touching his chest, close enough to see tiny blood-red threads in the corners of his eyes and a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Unable to move without physically grabbing hold of her, he was trapped.‘Step aside now,’ he barked at her.

‘You gonna make me?’ she taunted him.

In desperation, he tried appealing to her. ‘Cassie, you know as well as I do that this is inappropriate. You could get me in a lot of trouble if you don’t leave right now.’

She didn’t answer. He tried to reassure her that she could receive the attention she craved without approaching him like this in school.

‘Listen,’ he went on, no longer trying to conceal his panic, ‘I can help you. I’ll listen to whatever it is you want to say, but not here. If you’ve got a problem, we can talk about it, but not now. The bell’s about to go. This conversation can’t continue, not like this.’

‘We’re not here for no poxy conversation.’ She giggled at his indignant expression. ‘Why don’t you go on and kiss me? I don’t mind, and you know you want to.’

‘You need to stop this now, Cassie,’ he urged her. ‘I’m a happily married man. I’m twice your age. For Christ’s sake, Cassie, you must know that what you’re suggesting is out of the question, and it’s far from funny. We’re in school.’ He broke off, lost for words, aware that his agitation had become obvious. ‘You need to get away from me and leave the room right now,’ he resumed in a calmer tone. ‘This ends now. Go on, off you go, before anyone comes.’

She stood her ground, and they both knew he was powerless to stop her. It was a glorious feeling. Before she had even reached her teens, men had been teaching her about sex, and she understood its power only too well. But now she was the dominant one, and he was going to pay for the abuse she had suffered. It was only what he deserved.

As the bell rang, she leapt. Grabbing hold of his arms and pressing her body against his, she shoved him backwards. If his shoulders hadn’t hit the wall, she might have knocked him over. He whipped his head sideways too late to avoid her kiss. His lips felt dry and rigid against hers but she persisted, determined to leave a bright pink stain as evidence of their physical contact. Through her glee, she was dimly conscious of footsteps and voices which stopped as suddenly as if a television had been switched off. Immediately she began to cry, pulling away from her physical contact with him.

‘Get off me, you pervert!’ she screeched.

Blinking furiously to force tears from her eyes, she stumbled backwards, sobbing.

‘He’s a bloody paedo,’ a boy’s voice shouted and other voices took up the chant in an eager chorus. ‘Sir’s a paedo! Sir’s a paedo!’

Turning to her, he hissed, ‘Why are you doing this to me? I never did anything to hurt you.’

Ignoring him, she continued wailing and shaking, abandoning herself to a wild hysteria. There was a sudden hush. Peering through her fingers, she saw Mrs Prendergast standing in the doorway among a throng of pupils who were staring at her with varying expressions of horror and joy at this diversion.

‘He tried to rape me!’ she shrieked, still keeping her eyes covered. ‘I told him I didn’t want to do it with him. I said no but he wouldn’t stop.’

‘Don’t be absurd. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,’ Sir snapped angrily. He looked over at Mrs Prendergast who was standing motionless in the doorway. ‘If I wanted to do something so unprofessional, would I do it just when a class was about to come in?’

‘He said he couldn’t stop himself,’ she sobbed, loudly enough for everyone to hear. ‘He said I been asking for it. He told me he can’t stop thinking about me.’ Her voice broke into a wail.

Mrs Prendergast started shouting at everyone to line up outside in the corridor and be quiet.

‘I’ll make you pay for this,’ Mr Moore muttered quietly to her, before he strode towards the door.

Leering pupils fell back to let him pass, muttering and sniggering. Sniffling, she fell to her knees and covered her face in her hands, furtively using a tissue to wipe off her eye shadow. It didn’t matter if she made her eyes look puffy and bloodshot; everyone would assume it was from crying. No one could tell she was laughing.

2

‘You’re sure you don’t mind me going away for the weekend?’ Ian asked again. ‘I mean, it’s not as if either of us is involved in a case right now.’

Suppressing a smile, Geraldine did her best to look disappointed. ‘Well, it’s going to be tough, of course, but I think I can probably survive without you for a few days.’

As a detective inspector working on murder investigations, Geraldine had always been singleminded in her devotion to her career, and somehow she had never found time to have much of a personal life when she was younger. Slowly the years had slipped away from her, like proverbial sand through her fingers. It wasn’t until she reached forty that her fellow detective inspector, Ian Peterson, had moved in with her and, for the first time in her life, she found herself in a serious relationship. Now the initial joy of being able to express her love had worn off, she felt settled and paradoxically, at the same time unsettled. She wouldn’t have changed her relationship with Ian for anything, but it was emotionally draining, like living in a permanent state of unreality, and she lived in fear of losing him.

She knew she could trust in Ian’s unwavering affection. They had met while he was a young sergeant and, back then, she had been his mentor. Their friendship had taken years to develop into a romance, not least because he had been unhappily married for years. Now, it was hard for her to imagine life without him. Love might be dependable, but life itself was precarious. Her work on murder investigations had shown her that only too clearly. Nevertheless, she was looking forward to his going away for the weekend, giving her a few days to herself. She liked her own company, and much as she loved Ian, she sometimes felt crowded by his constant presence in her life.

‘I’ll be fine,’ she assured him. ‘For goodness sake, I managed perfectly well without you for twenty years. It’s hardly going to be a problem for a few days.’

‘Well, I hope you don’t start to enjoy your solitude too much,’ Ian replied, smiling and leaning down to kiss her. ‘Tell me you’ll miss me, just a little?’

She laughed. ‘About as much as you’re going to miss me at your stag party. You may think you don’t want to go away, but once you’re there you won’t want to come home.’

Ian straightened up with a grimace. ‘It’s not really my kind of thing,’ he admitted, a little shamefaced. ‘But I feel I ought to go. Team solidarity and all that, you know.’

Geraldine nodded. Ian played five-a-side football, and one of his fellow players was getting married. The rest of the team had organised a trip for his last weekend of being single.

‘I’m sure it’ll be a blast,’ she said.

‘I’m not so sure. I mean, there was a time when I would have relished all that larking about. I think we’re going paint balling.’ He gave a mock shudder. ‘And no doubt there’ll be plenty of alcohol and lashings of unhealthy grub, kebabs and chips, and all the things I used to enjoy twenty years ago. But these days I’d rather put my feet up and watch the box with you than go out on the town with a gang of raucous blokes. We’re all old enough to know better than to spend a weekend getting a massive hangover.’ He heaved a sigh which Geraldine suspected was for her benefit.

She burst out laughing. ‘All this time, I had no idea that I’ve been living with an old man.’

It was early May and the weather was changeable. April showers seemed to have come late that year. But that evening was dry and mild, and they walked into town and went for a drink before going out to eat. The pub was comfortable and welcoming, with fake wooden beams, leather benches, and straight-backed chairs arranged around the tables. They found a table in a corner of the bar and sat down with a couple of pints. A group of youngsters were gathered near the bar, drinking and chattering. Watching them, Geraldine speculated about whether they were under age.

‘You’re not on duty now,’ Ian chided her. ‘You can just ignore them. They’re not doing anyone any harm.’

‘It’s impossible to tell how old they are,’ Geraldine went on, ignoring the interruption. ‘Once they’re dressed up and plastered in make-up, many of the girls look a lot older than they should. You might think it’s quite innocent, but they could be putting themselves at risk from sexual predators.’

‘I suppose you never plastered your face in make-up and attempted to pass yourself off as older than you really were?’ Ian asked her, grinning. ‘I can just imagine you all dolled up, going to the pub and claiming to be eighteen when you were really still sixteen.’

‘No,’ Geraldine replied earnestly. ‘I was always a responsible teenager. I never went off the rails. How about you?’

Ian laughed a little self-consciously. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I started going steady with Bev when we were sixteen, so that probably saved me from some of the worst excesses I might otherwise have indulged in.’

‘Let’s hope a midlife crisis doesn’t hit you while you’re off on this stag weekend, then!’

‘Midlife? At my age? I hardly think so!’

‘No, I guess it’s too late for that now,’ she teased him.

Leaving the pub, they walked slowly along Micklegate, chatting about their last case and what Ian was expecting to happen over the weekend. After a curry at an Indian restaurant they liked, they walked slowly home.

‘That was a lovely evening,’ Geraldine said when they were home.

‘I don’t know why we don’t go out more often,’ Ian replied.

‘Because your curry’s as good as anyone’s and a lot better than most,’ she replied.

‘I’ll take the compliment, even though it’s a slight exaggeration.’ He grinned.

She smiled. ‘And we can’t usually be bothered,’ she added truthfully, and he grimaced.

It was true that once she was involved in a murder investigation, she tended to just grab a bit to eat in the police station canteen. There rarely seemed to be time to sit down to eat together in the evening, even though Ian insisted it was important she take better care of herself. She used to ignore him, even though she knew he was right, but lately she had been feeling more tired than usual, and decided to take his advice when she was on her next case.

‘Now, how about a nightcap before bed?’ he asked.

Listening to him humming happily as he went to the kitchen, Geraldine dismissed a familiar regret that they hadn’t started living together earlier. But there was no point in dwelling on what might have been. When they first met, Ian had been with his wife, and Geraldine had been too focused on her career to be interested in a serious relationship with anyone. At least they had found happiness with each other now, and she was thankful for that. Not everyone was as fortunate as she had been. Life was good.

‘Better late than never,’ she murmured as he returned.

‘What’s that?’

‘Nothing. I’m just feeling happy.’

‘Well, I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not, considering I’m about to go away for the weekend.’

‘It was most definitely a compliment,’ she replied seriously. ‘I’ve never been happier than I am right now. Just make sure you come back in one piece because –’ She broke off, unable to put her thoughts into words. ‘Well, just make sure you come back safely.’

Ian raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m going to a stag do in the Midlands, not to a war zone.’

He laughed at her anxiety, and she couldn’t find the words to explain that being in love made her feel vulnerable.

3

‘You can’t just hang around the house all day,’ Laura said as Paul stood up and began to clear the table. ‘It’s been three days.’

There was a tense edge to her voice that grated on him.

‘What do you expect me to do?’ he asked.

He dumped the bowls in the sink, leaving her to stack the dishwasher.

‘You could go and speak to the head,’ she replied. ‘There must be a procedure to follow with this kind of thing.’ Her words were suitably vague, but he could sense her distaste as she referred to the situation.

‘There is a strict protocol for dealing with false allegations, and the school are following it, but it’s going to take time.’

‘So you’re just going to sit around here, doing nothing?’

‘I’m not sure what you want me to do.’

‘You could go out and get a job.’

He frowned. ‘I’ve already got a job.’

‘Well, no, actually you haven’t. Not any more. You had a job but you seem to have forgotten they’ve thrown you out.’

‘No, they haven’t,’ he protested. ‘No one’s thrown me out.’

‘Paul, you need to face up to what’s happened. You can’t keep up this pretence.’

Paul sighed impatiently. ‘There’s nothing to face up to. Listen, Laura, you clearly don’t understand the situation. I haven’t been sacked and I haven’t lost my job. I’ve been suspended, which means it’s just a temporary measure. The head made it perfectly clear he doesn’t want to lose me, and in any case there are no grounds for sacking me. Nothing happened. Just some silly little slut made a ridiculous accusation about inappropriate conduct. It’s risible, really. This will all blow over, and I’ll be back at work in no time. You’ll see.’

‘If there’s no reason to sack you, why did he send you home?’

‘I’ve already told you, that’s the system,’ Paul explained with exaggerated patience. ‘The head was very apologetic, but he had no choice. While the allegation is being investigated I have to stay away from school. That’s all. There’s no need to be melodramatic about it.’

‘So in the meantime you’re just expected to sit around doing nothing all day?’

‘I’m not doing nothing.’

‘That’s what it looks like. And I’m not being melodramatic. I’m just concerned about our future now you’ve been thrown out of school.’

He understood the reason for her concern. They had recently been discussing the possibility of starting a family, but all at once their future seemed less secure. Still, there was no point in repeating himself if she refused to listen.

‘So, what do you intend to do?’ she asked.

‘I’m waiting. And I’ve got lessons to plan,’ he added, determined not to be needled by her frustration.

That was true. There was always plenty to do, but usually he was too snowed under with marking to take stock of where he was with his lesson plans. He could make use of this brief period of free time to get on top of his preparation so that when he returned to school he wouldn’t be under constant pressure.

‘We’re due an inspection soon,’ he added, with forced insouciance. ‘I might as well be ready.’ He made for the door then spun round to face his wife, dropping all pretence to sound jaunty. ‘This isn’t easy for me, you know. It would help if you were a little more supportive. Right now I feel as though the whole world has turned against me. And I’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing! You could at least make an effort to be sympathetic. This isn’t my fault.’

Laura didn’t answer. Staring into her blank eyes it struck him with a sudden cold certainty that she suspected he had done something to deserve this trouble. Without another word, he left the room and ran upstairs. Locking himself in the bathroom, he cast his mind back over the past few months, wondering whether he had actually done anything to incite Cassie to accuse him so publicly. Whatever she was thinking, she could have spoken to him discreetly, instead of denouncing him in front of an entire class, and consequently the whole school.

He wondered if anyone would believe he was innocent when even his own wife doubted him. It didn’t say much for their relationship. Shocked that she mistrusted him, he sat on the edge of the bath and dropped his head in his hands, close to breaking down in tears. This whole episode had tested his usual resilience almost to breaking point. But throughout the shock, and the ensuing sleepless nights, it had never once occurred to him that he might not be able to count on his wife’s unwavering support. They had always been so happy together, or so he had thought.

Downstairs he heard the front door slam. Laura had left for work without even bothering to say goodbye. With a sigh, he stood up and splashed cold water on his face. It wasn’t fair of him to be angry with his wife. Of course, this was horrible for him, but it was hard for her too. It wouldn’t help either of them if he crumbled under the pressure. Somehow he had to force himself to stay positive. Before long he would return to school. He might as well make good his claim, and take advantage of his unexpected time off to do some preparation. Seated at the dining room table with his iPad and a pad of A4 paper, he tried to focus on objectives and resources, learning outcomes and differentiation, but his thoughts kept wandering.

His worst fear was the possibility that he might never be reinstated. No one could prove he was guilty of any wrongdoing, but nor could he prove he was innocent. It was a stalemate. It seemed unlikely that he could convince the little bitch to retract her accusation, but on balance that was the only means he could think of to extricate himself from this mess. Unless he could persuade her to admit that she had lied in claiming he had attempted to force her to have sex with him, his career was over. Even if the head’s investigation concluded that he was blameless, suspicion would linger. The accusation would remain indelibly on his record and he would never gain promotion or find another job. He would be trapped, and all because of that vicious little cow. It wasn’t going to be easy, getting to speak to her, but he would wangle it somehow. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that was the only way he could ever hope to clear his name. He had to see her on her own and convince her to admit she had made a false allegation, or at least that she had been mistaken.

Used to the noise and activity and constant interruptions of the school day, he found it impossible to relax at home alone all day with his disturbing thoughts. By lunchtime he was feeling restless, so he went out to the pub. Entering the bar, he felt as though everyone was staring at him, whispering into their drinks. After gulping down a pint he gave up and left, stopping to buy a bottle of whisky in a corner shop on the way home. At least he could feel anonymous there. Nevertheless, the little man behind the counter gave him a suspicious glare as he handed over the whisky, and Paul scurried out of the shop like a guilty man. Pleased to get home, he poured himself a generous slug. The warm aroma hit him before the liquid burned in his throat, suffusing his mouth with a mellow glow. He slowed his breathing, aware of the tension leaving his muscles and his shoulders drooping as the alcohol reached his brain. Straightaway he started to feel better. The stress headache that had begun to plague him was replaced by a faint and welcome wooziness. Having refilled his glass, he hid the bottle in his school bag where Laura would never find it.

He needn’t have bothered with the pretence because as soon as Laura returned home, she sniffed disparagingly and asked him if he had been drinking. All at once he was sick of having to justify himself.

‘What if I have?’ he blurted out testily. ‘What’s it to you?’

‘Your breath stinks of whisky.’

‘So now you’re making accusations against me?’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous. I’m not accusing you of anything. I merely asked if you’ve been drinking.’

Gazing at her once familiar face, he felt as though he was looking into a stranger’s eyes.

‘I’m going out,’ he muttered, unable to cope with her coldness.

Seizing his keys and wallet from the table, he rushed from the house. He hesitated before he slammed the front door, listening for his wife calling out his name, but the house was silent. The door closed behind him with an air of finality. Feeling sick, he realised that he had lost more than his job, thanks to one histrionic slut who had attacked him, when all she had to do was keep her stupid mouth shut.

4

Cassie paused in unbuttoning her blouse and grinned nervously at him. There was barely enough light for her to see him, but she could tell that he wasn’t looking at her.

She had thought everything would be back to normal between them, but there was something different about him this evening which made her uneasy. She couldn’t work out what was wrong, but he seemed distant. Afraid she had annoyed him, she hesitated to challenge him for fear of alienating him further, but his coldness was difficult to bear.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked at last. ‘I done everything you wanted. Whatever I done it’s only so’s we can be together all the time because we love each other, don’t we? Tell me you love me. Tell me.’

‘Oh, stop your whining.’

Taken aback by his aggressive tone, she fought to control her tears. ‘I just want to be with you,’ she stammered. ‘That’s all I want, and you said –’

‘Just shut up, will you? And leave your clothes on, unless you want to freeze.’

Her fingers trembled as she fumbled to do up the buttons on her blouse and pull her jumper down. With a toss of her head she shook her shoulder length blonde hair, miserably wishing it was sleeker and shinier. Her friends at school assured her it looked fine, like a genuine natural blonde, but her mother was less complimentary. She was annoyed with Cassie for repeatedly bleaching it.

‘Your hair’s going to end up looking like wool,’ she grumbled. ‘And if you don’t stop bleaching it, it’s all going to fall out, you’ll see. I don’t know why you have to keep messing about with it. What’s wrong with the hair you were born with?’

Cassie smoothed her dry hair with the palms of her hands before turning to him with a flirtatious smile. He had often told her she was irresistible. She saw no reason for that to have changed.

‘I can’t believe a girl as gorgeous as you would fall for someone like me,’ he had said, several times.

But that was before she had made her accusation in front of the whole class. Now he seemed completely indifferent to her, and she was scared. As she looked out of the window, a light drizzle began to fall between the trees, scarcely visible in the gathering dusk. There was no one else about, just the two of them sitting side by side in the car, in a private world of their own. It was so romantic, she could scarcely control her disappointment at his coldness. Tentatively she reached across and placed her hand on his crotch, but he batted her groping fingers away with an impatient expletive. Instead of wanting sex with her, he told her to get out of the car.

‘What about you?’ she asked. ‘Are you coming with me?’

He didn’t answer.

She tried again. ‘It’s raining. We can do it here. Why do you want to go out in the rain?’

Quietly he explained that he was staying in the car. She was the one who was leaving.

‘When will I see you again?’ she asked, sudden fear clutching at her stomach.

‘You won’t.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘It’s quite simple. This is over. I don’t want to see you again.’

The finality in his tone made her feel sick. ‘You can’t –’ she stammered. ‘We have to see each other. You need me. You know you do. You said so. You said you wanted to keep me with you always.’ Aware that she was sounding plaintive, she struggled not to cry.

‘And now I’m saying it’s over between us,’ he said impatiently. ‘Don’t be a pain in the neck. Just get out of the car.’

She refused to believe him. ‘What you talking about?’ Tears would be smudging her mascara, but she didn’t care. ‘What’s wrong with you? We’re good together, you know we are. You said, you promised me –’

All at once she grew angry, her rage fuelled by the growing realisation that he really didn’t want to see her any more. ‘You can’t dump me,’ she snarled. ‘Not after everything I done for you. It’s not going to end like this. It can’t. We mean too much to each other. I know you want me,’ she went on, pleading frantically now. ‘You said you can’t stop thinking about me. You said –’

‘Stop making a fuss and get out.’ He turned to glare at her, his eyes seeming to bore into hers. ‘Whatever you think you mean to me, you’re fooling yourself. You mean nothing to me, nothing. Now get out of my car.’

‘No, no, you can’t do this,’ she wailed. ‘I know where you live,’ she added, with a sudden flash of cunning.

‘Do you think you can threaten me, you little whore? Get out before I throw you out.’

She leaned back in her seat and folded her arms to signal her refusal to budge. He was in a mood with her, that was all. He would think better of it soon enough. He couldn’t resist her for long. She stared straight ahead, feeling the car vibrate when he slammed his door. The rain had grown heavier. If she went outside now, her hair would get wet and she wouldn’t have time to straighten it before school in the morning. It wouldn’t be the first time she had bunked off on a Friday, but she didn’t want her hair messed up anyway. At the periphery of her vision she was vaguely aware of him running round to the passenger door. Too late, she realised his intention and reached forward to lock her door. He was already yanking it open. He leaned in to grab her, and hauled her bodily out of the car, his wet hair dripping on her face. She screamed, as much in rage as fear at the way he was manhandling her, but he slapped his hand over her mouth and hissed in her ear.

‘Shut up, you little bitch.’

His glove pressed hard against her mouth, filling her nostrils with the stale smell of leather as he pushed her head right back, making her choke. She began struggling in earnest, terrified that he would break her neck, yet at the same time curiously excited by his closeness. He shoved her down on the ground and she let out a low grunt of relief, knowing that she was still irresistible and he had come to his senses. But instead of relaxing his grip to scrabble at her clothes, he pressed down harder, moving the position of his hand so that he was gripping her nose between his finger and thumb, all the while pushing down hard on her mouth. She tried to cry out, to warn him that she couldn’t breathe, but she could only manage a faint moan. The back of her head was painfully squashed against the hard ground, and his hand kept pressing down on her mouth until she felt her teeth digging painfully into the soft flesh inside her lower lip.

Terror gripped her and she felt her guts turn to water. She wanted to cry out, to beg him to stop, to ask him who was going to take care of her little sister if she wasn’t there to look out for her. Their mother was never home, but Cassie saw to it that her sister had something to eat after school, even if it was only chips. Cassie had to be there to make sure her sister wasn’t so grubby that she would be humiliated in front of her classmates and come home with tear-stained cheeks. Desperately she tried to push him away, but he didn’t budge. He was crushing her chest with one knee now, without relieving the pressure on her mouth and nose. Panicking, she kicked out and flung her arms at him in a frenzy but she wasn’t strong enough to push him away. A horrible lassitude seized her, and pain radiated from her chest like boiling lava spewing out of a volcano.

5

Ian having left on Thursday evening, on Friday morning Geraldine woke up in rare and glorious solitude. When she stretched out under the duvet, instead of hitting the warmth of Ian’s leg, her toes felt an unfamiliar coolness in the far corner of the bed. She drew her legs back, luxuriating in the warmth of her own body. Her sense of relaxation faded as she realised it was no longer dark outside, and after a few minutes she reached for her phone to check the time. It was nearly eight o’clock. She wasn’t due at work yet, but she was wide awake. Abandoning any hope of sleeping late, she flung her covers off and jumped out of bed. She pulled the curtains open, and gazed out over myriad speckles of sunlight flickering on the river flowing past her veranda, before padding into the kitchen to brew some fresh coffee.

Still in her pyjamas, she went out on to her balcony. The sky was cloudless, promising a fine day, and she hoped the weather was equally sunny where Ian was staying until Monday evening. With a sigh of contentment, she settled down with a mug of coffee and a new book. She had scarcely opened her book when her phone rang. After hearing the message, she hurried indoors to dress and pull her fingers through her cropped black hair, before driving straight into work. She arrived just as Detective Chief Inspector Binita Hewitt was about to brief the team.

Geraldine glanced around the group. Naomi Arnold, recently promoted to detective sergeant, was staring fixedly at the DCI as though the intensity of her gaze might reveal her senior officer’s thoughts. When Geraldine had first joined the team in York, she had been concerned that her young colleague was too skittish to be reliable, but Naomi had developed into a staunch member of the team. She and Geraldine had helped each other out several times in the past. Geraldine had rescued Naomi from a potentially dangerous predicament, as a result of which they had developed a strong bond. Since then, Geraldine had been acting as a kind of unofficial mentor to her younger colleague. Next to Naomi was an experienced detective sergeant, Ariadne Croft. She had recently married and was Geraldine’s closest friend in York. Several constables were present, both men and women, but before Geraldine had a chance to study them each in turn, Binita cleared her throat loudly to signal she was about to speak.

The DCI’s black eyes were gleaming and her expression earnest as she announced that a girl’s body had been discovered lying beside a path in Fishponds Wood. No one spoke, although everyone present was familiar with the site, which was less than four miles from the police station. Geraldine’s initial thoughts were that, although the wood was situated in York, areas of it were as secluded as some more remote places. It was feasible that a body could be deposited there by a careful killer unobserved, especially after dark. That suggested the murder could have been premeditated, which would make it harder for the police to track down the killer. But she dismissed such conjecture. Before starting to speculate about what had taken place, it was important to establish the facts and resist the temptation to blur any ideas with preconceptions.

‘We haven’t identified her yet, but the information we’ve received from those first on the scene is that she’s young,’ Binita went on.

‘Are we looking at a child?’ someone asked in a low voice.

‘A teenager,’ Binita replied. ‘Her age hasn’t yet been determined, but she’s probably around fifteen. We should be able to identify her without too much trouble.’ She paused. ‘She’s wearing what appears to be a generic school uniform.’ Binita’s black eyes looked around her colleagues, perhaps watching for any reaction to her words. No one’s expression altered, and the DCI grunted. ‘There seems to be little doubt that we’re looking at a murder, so let’s get moving quickly.’

In the absence of any further information, the team sprang into action. Evidence deteriorated quickly, especially out of doors, and witnesses’ statements became less reliable with the passage of time, so it was important to work fast. A check on girls who had recently been reported missing was initiated, and Geraldine and Ariadne were despatched to Fishponds Wood to question the witnesses who had discovered the body.

‘I do hate it when the victim’s young,’ Ariadne grumbled as they walked towards the car park. ‘It just seems such a shame.’

‘Worse than when an older person is murdered? Or a young mother?’ Geraldine asked. ‘Or any parent for that matter. And isn’t an old person’s life as valuable as a young one? What about a doctor? Or someone conducting groundbreaking research into a cure for cancer? Can we really place a higher value on one life over another?’

Ariadne sighed. ‘No, of course you’re right. It doesn’t make any difference how old or young the victim is, or what they do. But it just gets to me more when it’s a youngster. I can’t justify feeling that way. It’s not entirely rational.’

Geraldine nodded. ‘I know what you mean. Somehow it seems more of a waste of a life when the victim hasn’t even really had a chance to live.’

‘Exactly,’ Ariadne agreed, sounding almost relieved. ‘That’s what I meant. How much can any teenager really experience of life? A vague education of sorts? A few fumbling sexual encounters? When I was fifteen I hadn’t lived at all.’

Ariadne drove them across the city. The traffic was heavy. She put her foot down whenever possible, but it took a long time to travel the short distance to the site. By the time they reached the woods, the area had been secured, a forensic tent had been erected, the mortuary van had arrived and scene of crime officers were already busy scrutinising the site and the surrounding area. The tent had been set up across a narrow pathway between the trees. The sun that had been shining brightly earlier on was obscured by ominous grey clouds and, under bright artificial lights, leafy branches cast eerie shadows across the grass and damp mud of the path.

6

Geraldine and Ariadne pulled on their protective suits in silence and approached the tent, taking care to keep to the common approach path.

‘Have you found anything significant?’ Geraldine asked the first scene of crime officer she passed.

‘Well,’ he said, his eyes creasing as though he was grinning, ‘there’s a body over there. I’d say that’s pretty significant. I mean, it’s why we were all dragged away from our breakfast to scratch around in the mud here searching for scraps of evidence.’

Geraldine grunted and rephrased her question, speaking rapidly so as not to hold the SOCO up for long. Any delay in examining a crime scene risked decomposition and contamination of the evidence.

‘I meant, have you come across any indication as to how she died?’

‘The medical officer’s on his way,’ the SOCO replied. ‘He’ll be able to tell you more. There’s no sign of a weapon that we can see, but it does rather look as though she was bashed on the head with something. It’s difficult to see how much blood has soaked into the ground and, of course, it rained last night, just to make our job more difficult, but there’s a few streaks of blood still in her hair. Her face is bruised and battered. Someone definitely wasn’t happy with her.’

‘Was she killed here?’

‘That’s difficult to say, especially as it’s been raining overnight. But there are some fairly fresh tyre tracks which haven’t quite been washed away. So we think she was brought here by car; whether dead or alive is difficult to say. Once we’ve examined the soil we’ll have a better idea of whether she bled here or was already dead when she was deposited here.’

‘If she came here with someone, that would certainly help our investigation. But could she have been walking here and been attacked by a stranger?’

The SOCO’s eyes looked serious. ‘It’s possible, but there’s hardly any mud on her shoes, dry or otherwise, and no sign of recent footprints, and we have a couple of tyre tracks. But nothing’s certain. She was found by a couple on an early morning run before work. Health freaks,’ he added disparagingly. ‘Catch me out of bed for a run before work. They’re over there if you want to have a word, but they’re both quite shocked and don’t seem to have much to say for themselves. Nothing very coherent, anyway.’

He gestured towards a young man and woman standing beside a police van. They were both wrapped in silver foil sheets although the morning was mild. They gazed blankly at Geraldine as she approached, but didn’t move. She flashed her badge and introduced herself.

‘We always like to go for a run before work,’ the woman blurted out, as though Geraldine had enquired what they were doing out on the path in the woods so early. ‘That way we know we’ll get the exercise.’ She smiled anxiously. ‘Unless it’s raining.’ She paused. ‘She was just lying there, on the path. We called the police – you – straightaway. We could see she was dead. We didn’t think it was worth asking for an ambulance –’

‘We didn’t know what to do,’ the man added.

The couple had nothing more to tell Geraldine. They had phoned the emergency services and waited for the police to arrive.

‘We didn’t know what else to do.’ The woman repeated what her companion had said. Suddenly she became talkative. ‘We weren’t really sure if she was unconscious or – you know, dead. It could have been drink or drugs, or she could have collapsed and passed out because she was ill, diabetic or something. We didn’t know. But she didn’t move all the time we were waiting. And then they told us. We couldn’t have done anything,’ she added, with a shudder. ‘We didn’t know what to do. Should we have called an ambulance?’

Geraldine reassured them that they had done what they could. She hoped for their sake that the girl had already been dead by the time she was found, but there was nothing she could do about that. Either way, they had nothing with which to reproach themselves.