It’s been an hour and two minutes since the head teacher was shot, and there have still been no more shots, no further threats, no demands. What are they going to do next, Rose? What do they want?
Rose didn’t choose to study investigative forensic psychology because she was fascinated by criminal minds (unlike her fellow students, though Rose graduated top of her year); the minds she finds fascinating belong to composers, artists, playwrights, poets, engineers and architects and to people who have done extraordinary, but uncriminal, things – flown to the moon, landed a plane on a river, filmed a turtle for two years. She isn’t even interested in the criminal mind, she’s interested in people who work a nine-hour day and then volunteer in the evening, by the serious way children play, by teenagers’ restless newness and inventiveness. But understanding criminals’ minds, their cruelty, selfishness, viciousness, is necessary to help the people who do interest her, who matter to her.
‘We’ve got a mobile phone number match and a match to a number plate,’ Amaal says. ‘Same person.’
And Rose’s first thought is, why not use a burner? Why use a car that can be traced to you? It feels off to her; again this feeling that one of the gunmen is playing them.
* * *
In the theatre, Daphne wants to believe it’s not true, that there’s been a ghastly, ridiculous mix-up. But it is true. Victor Deakin’s mobile is being used in Old School; his mother’s car is parked in Junior School’s car park where it has no business to be. Daphne knows this because she argued with Detective Sergeant Amaal Ayari, the gentle-voiced policeman who told her – no, she’d said to him, you must’ve made a mistake! A terrible, terrible mistake! You don’t know him. I do. He’d never do this!
The mobile. The car.
Detective Sergeant Amaal Ayari and his colleagues haven’t made a mistake.
The gunman who shot Matthew, who’s terrorizing everyone in Old School, is someone Daphne has taught, who she’s hugged – Well done, Victor! Fantastic performance! Whose hair she’s tousled, as she does to all of them, just can’t resist when she’s walking past and they’re sitting down – Daphne, please, took me ages this morning; Gerroff; OMG, you’re like my mum! My granny! – but Victor just stood up and gave Daphne’s hair a quick ruffle back and made her laugh; a young man who charmed her totally.
Who is he when he isn’t acting? This man in Old School with a gun?
There’d been a phone call from him in April, out of the blue one evening, saying he’d had to leave because his parents couldn’t pay the fees. He’d asked her not to intervene and get herself in trouble over him; and she’d thought it was just like him to be thoughtful towards her. She’d petitioned Matthew anyway to give him a bursary – he was midway through his A-level course and she’d just cast him as the lead in the school play – but Matthew had been intransigent, had told her the subject was off-limits, and she’d had the weirdest feeling, right before she was outraged, that Matthew was sparing her feelings. What had Matthew known?
She’d thought her seeing the best in people, particularly young people, was a good thing, something to be proud of, in a teacher especially. But it’s nothing to be proud of. Children and colleagues are in danger and she’s afraid she’s a part of it.
Detective Sergeant Ayari had gently but firmly insisted that she told the kids about Victor and asked them for any information. They are sitting on the stage, shocked that it’s a former student, one of them. Two girls are whispering about fancying him, feeling guilty for that now, dirtied by it. She hears Josh talking about ‘that Rohypnol thing’. Tim says, ‘Fuck’s sake, that was a joke.’
‘The police want to know who his friends were,’ Daphne says.
‘Loads of us were his friends,’ Tim says. ‘Thought we were. Fuck.’
‘But nobody close,’ Tracey says. ‘When you think about it, he went to parties and gatherings but he DJ’d, not really part of it, just making sure we all listened to his music, and he wasn’t anyone’s real friend, was he?’
‘He was Jamie’s,’ Antonella says. ‘But Jamie dumped him, didn’t he? Wouldn’t have anything to do with him.’
Jamie is missing and Victor is murderous.
‘I’m sure Jamie is safely hiding somewhere,’ Daphne says, not sure, a shake in her voice. Get a hold of yourself, they’re all looking at you.
‘The police asked if he’s friends with Malin Cohen,’ she says.
She’d taught Malin in junior school and hoped he’d grow out of his behavioural problems, but a year ago he’d tried to punch a teacher and been expelled.
‘God, no, Victor would never hang with Malin,’ Josh says. ‘Too fucking mental.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Antonella says. ‘And Victor …?’
‘Perhaps they were friends secretly, then, or some shit; or became friends after they left here.’
‘In a way it’s good it’s Victor,’ Luisa says. ‘When you think about it. Victor’s really fucked off with Mr Marr for not letting him stay here. Gone bloody mental about that. God. But he hasn’t got anything against anyone else, has he? Frank’s done nothing to him. He’s never even spoken to Frank. Wouldn’t talk to someone like Frank. And Malin too, if it’s him too. This is just against Mr Marr, against adults.’
‘I think you’re right,’ Daphne says. ‘Victor and his henchman’ – henchman, new words for Victor now – ‘I think they’ve done what they came to do. So we just need to wait it out. And while we do, let’s continue the rehearsal.’
‘Seriously?’ Tracey asks.
‘Yes,’ Daphne says. ‘We’re not going to let them stop us. We will pick up from where we left off. Duncan, Lennox, Malcolm and Donalbain on stage, everyone else ready for your cues.’
Behind her, Zac is walking up the steep banked steps of the auditorium, fast, as if he can outpace his thoughts; reaching the top and no way out, so back again; and as he gets closer Daphne sees his body shaking as if he’s in freezing water.
* * *
Dannisha Taylor, lead hostage and crisis negotiator, has joined Rose’s team in their command and control vehicle. She’s sitting close to Rose and Rose is grateful both for her composure and for her lemon soap smell, which is helping to relieve her nausea. Dannisha has told her she has five children at home, five, bloody hell. There’s something reassuring about being close to Dannisha.
Rose will use her training and experience in forensic psychology to assist Dannisha with negotiation. She has briefed Dannisha on what they know so far about Victor: he wrote a violent rape fantasy that he managed to explain away; he is off-the-chart bright; he was expelled from the school but they don’t yet know the reason; he didn’t want to be at the school in the first place.
Now they have Victor’s mobile number, Dannisha has a channel of communication.
Dannisha types a text.
Can we talk?
‘Nothing confrontational and not giving away that we know who he is,’ Dannisha says. ‘A place to start.’ Rose nods and Dannisha sends the text.
‘Do you think he knew we’d find out who he is?’ Dannisha asks.