Running Girl (25 page)

Suddenly he was exhausted. His energy drained away and with it his self-belief. No wonder his colleagues had lost faith in him. The chief constable was openly critical. Singh's hunches had been wrong. Dowell's team was still searching in vain for a Porsche. He'd made a mistake in arresting Alex Robinson. Now Naylor was proving to be more difficult and perhaps more dangerous than they'd thought.

Beyond the running track he could see the edge of Marsh Woods. Beyond that was the ring road and the path out to Pike Pond. Even at this time in the morning the sky above it was gloomy. It was a gloomy place, isolated and bleak. A thought came to him. If Chloe had arranged to meet someone up there, in the ruin of Four Winds Farm, was that person Naylor?

He didn't know. Frustrated, he felt that if only he could look at the questions in a new light, turn them round somehow, he would find the answers. But he couldn't turn them. Slapping the steering wheel to shake himself out of his lethargy, he turned the key in the ignition, and with a grim, pale face drove out through the school gates. He was a policeman and a Sikh. He wouldn't give up. He had an iron will. He would never quit.

‘THING IS,' GARVIE
said, ‘I'm thinking of quitting.'

‘Quitting, Smith?'

‘It's a bad habit, miss.'

‘Quitting smoking, you mean?'

‘Smoking tobacco. Yeah.'

Miss Perkins looked at him hard and Garvie looked back. She had ginger eyebrows; they made her eyes look colder. Glancing around her office, a model of functional, soulless efficiency, he sighed. Through the sound-proofed glass office door he could see other students going erratically but silently along the corridor to their lessons.

‘By the way,' he said, ‘I think I'm meant to be in citizenship. Or maybe physics. So, if that's all, I'll just—'

‘Stay where you are, Smith. I promised your mother I'd have a word with you. There are one or two things that need to be made clear to you.'

‘I wish,' he said. He was thinking of things connected with Chloe Dow. But remembering what his mother had said to him the night before – and the estate agents' brochures she'd shown him – he put the thought out of his mind. It really looked as if he'd have to get down to his school work. Some of it, at least.

Miss Perkins opened a file on her desk and flipped through a few pages. ‘You're not the stupidest boy at this school,' she said.

‘Thank you, Miss. Smudge'll be relieved.'

‘Smudge?'

‘Ryan Howell, Miss. He prizes his position as stupidest boy.'

She stared at him narrowly. ‘Don't talk, Smith. Just listen.' She looked down at her file. ‘It says here that you have the highest IQ of any Academy pupil in its entire history.'

He nodded politely.

‘But you have the worst grades. Quite possibly the worst grades ever recorded.'

He shook his head in what he hoped was a sad and defeated manner.

Perkins frowned. She closed the file. ‘I've seen it before. Not quite so spectacularly. But similar enough. Lack of motivation. Disaffection. Bad habits.'

Garvie nodded, even more sadly. He turned his face away, as if reluctant to face the full horror of what he'd become, and through the glass door saw Jessica Walker in the corridor making gestures at him. She was pointing at her watch and mouthing something. When he shook his head, she pouted and gestured towards the canteen with her thumb. He shook his head again. He put his index finger to his temple and pulled the trigger.

‘Smith?'

‘Yes, Miss?'

‘What are you doing?'

She came round her desk towards the door and Jessica skittered away down the corridor. Turning to Garvie, Miss Perkins said, ‘Leave her alone, Smith.'

‘But I wasn't—'

‘Certainly you weren't. You wouldn't know how to.'

‘Miss?'

She stood small and straight and stern in front of her desk, looking at him. ‘You see, Smith, you have no idea. How could you? You have no understanding of female psychology. None. You might have heard rumours that it exists, but for you it remains
terra incognita
.' She continued to look at him. ‘
Terra incognita
is a Latin phrase.'

‘Does it have something to do with terror?'

‘It means
unknown lands
.'

‘Very handy, Miss. I'll remember to use it in my conversations with girls.'

He glanced sideways at Jessica, who had reappeared in front of the glass door, making her weird gestures again. As soon as Miss Perkins followed his gaze, the girl continued on her way down the corridor.

Perkins clicked her tongue. ‘At least leave her until after your exams. Listen to me now, Smith. Bad habits are your own business, but bad grades bring down a school. And no one is going to bring down this school.' She stood in front of him. ‘Your mother asked me to ensure you sat all your exams, but I did better than that, I promised her that you would achieve grades commensurate with your intelligence. Do you think that was rash?'

‘Yeah. A bit.'

‘But I'm not a rash person, am I, Smith?'

‘No, Miss.'

‘What sort of person am I?'

‘Utterly ruthless, Miss.'

‘That's correct. I'm very glad we understand each other. You see, Smith, all you need to do is a little work. And you have four whole weeks to do it in.' She brought her face closer to Garvie's. ‘And I know that's what you're going to do. How do I know that's what you're going to do?'

‘ 'Cause otherwise you won't hesitate to have me deported.'

‘That's correct.'

She returned to the other side of her desk with an air of having achieved her objective, and sat down again.

‘From now on you're being monitored. Miss a lesson and your mother gets a call. Miss a second lesson and I'll pull you from all your exams. I won't risk sub-standard grades, and of course if you have no chance to get any sort of grades things will be greatly simplified for your mother. From what she told me I think you'll be in Bridgetown by the end of the month. Any questions?'

Garvie thought for a moment.

‘If you were young, blonde and attractive, Miss, what would you do if you found yourself entangled with the wrong sort of man? Thinking of the
psychology-terra-incognita
angle.'

Miss Perkins sat rigid, glaring at him. At first it seemed she was about to call security, or perhaps just turn him to stone with the appalling power of her stare, but after a moment she said, in a frozen voice, ‘I would not put myself in that position in the first place, Smith.'

‘That's exactly what I thought you'd say,' Garvie said. ‘Perhaps I'm getting the hang of that psychology thing after all. At least with utterly ruthless women.'

And, nodding affably, he got to his feet and exited the room before Miss Perkins could come out of her trance of fury.

He got as far as the so-called IT Suite before he was ambushed by Jessica.

‘She likes you, bad boy. I can tell, the way she was looking at you.'

‘No, Jess. She doesn't like me. She doesn't understand me. To her I'm
terra incognita
.'

‘In-cog-what?'

‘Doesn't matter. I'm due in citizenship, and I really have to be there. Sorry.'

‘Wait. Got something to tell you.'

He shook his head. ‘No time, Jess.'

‘About
her
. Chloe.'

Turning away, he began to walk briskly along the corridor, and Jessica caught him up and scampered alongside him.

‘I know what it is. You can't stop thinking about her, can't get her out of your head. And I know why. You still love her, don't you? Even though she dumped you. Even though she's gone.'

Rolling his eyes, saying nothing, Garvie walked on. He pushed his way through the fire door and set off across the yard in a drizzle that had stained the streaky asphalt to wet-dog grey.

‘I know how it feels,' Jessica went on. ‘Can we stop for a bit, by the way? My feet hurt.'

Garvie went round the corner of A Block saying nothing, and crossed to the entrance to Humanities and Arts.

‘I can't walk in these flat shoes,' Jessica wailed.

He went up the staircase two steps at a time.

‘She wasn't who you think she was, Garv!' Her voice echoed below him in the stairwell.

He climbed as far as Music, then through fire doors into another corridor, striding past classroom doors, lockers and vending machines towards Modern Languages, Jessica gamely stumbling after him.

‘She never loved you!' she called. ‘She never even loved Alex.'

Garvie pulled away from her and she faltered, limping and pouting.

‘She only liked her new man 'cause of what he promised he'd do for her!' she cried, and finally came to a halt, gingerly holding an ankle, watching despairingly as Garvie disappeared round the corner of the corridor.

A second later he reappeared.

‘What?'

She languished against the scuffed and peeling wall, a bird with a broken wing. ‘It hurts, Garv.'

He came back down the corridor towards her, and she languished a bit more.

‘You didn't tell me anything about the new man before, Jess.'

‘I only just remembered.'

‘What did he promise to do for her?'

‘I don't know. She never said. But I know it was something she really wanted.'

‘Who was he?'

Jessica shook her head. ‘All I know is, he was someone she really, really shouldn't have got involved with.'

‘Go on.'

She winced. ‘Thing is, my ankle's still hurting. It needs a little rub, Garv.'

He turned away and Jessica said, ‘No, wait. I'll tell you. She said if anyone found out about them, all hell'd break loose. As bad for him as for her, she said. Worse.'

‘Why?'

‘She didn't say.'

‘Why would all hell break loose? Because he had a job here?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Or because of what he was going to do for her?'

‘She just said one day everyone would know everything, but by then it'd be too late. There. That's it. I've told you it all. Will you give my foot a rub now, Garv? Just for a minute?'

He looked at her, then at his watch, then at her foot, and then his phone rang.

He took it out of his pocket and frowned at it before holding it to his ear. ‘Yeah?'

His face changed. It changed so dramatically that Jessica put a hand out as if to steady him.

‘Garv? What is it, Garv?'

He stood there with a hand in his hair, listening, his face fierce with concentration.

‘Yeah, I got a question,' he said at last. ‘Why are you calling me?'

For a while he listened again.

‘I wouldn't do that if I was you,' he said.

He was silent a moment.

‘How about because I'm telling you not to?'

He went on, ‘You're not making much sense. How can I trust you? Really? After what you did that night?'

For a long time he was silent, eyes glittering. Then he said, ‘All right. I'll meet you. Where? Yeah, I know it. Late. I've got somewhere to go to first. No, later. Eleven. All right.'

There was a pause, then he said, ‘You want to know what I think? I don't think we should do this. But I know we're going to do it anyway. Yeah, and you.'

He stood there distracted, holding the phone between his fingers like a card he didn't know whether to throw away or play.

‘Garv? Who was that? What are you up to, Garv?'

Jessica limped away from the wall but he was already halfway down the corridor.

‘Sorry, Jess. Got to go. It's going to be a long day.'

‘But Garv!'

‘Try the school nurse!'

And then he was out of sight and she heard only his steady footsteps receding into the distance.

ALL THE WAY
back to headquarters Singh felt tired and dispirited. But he couldn't afford to rest, and as soon as he got into his office he called Collier, who appeared with a file ten minutes later.

‘Did you find the meeting Naylor was at?'

Collier put the file on the desk in front of him. ‘There were eight meetings that evening, in different rooms. It's a busy place.'

‘So which one was Naylor's?'

‘None of them.'

Singh frowned and opened the file. ‘Here,' he said, pointing. ‘This must be it. SAD. Social Anxiety Disorder. Group Therapy. Six thirty to eight thirty.'

‘He didn't go.'

‘Didn't turn up?'

‘He's never turned up. He's never been to a SAD meeting. He's not even registered. Look there. Check the list of attendees.' Again Singh detected a trace of hostility and exasperation in Collier's voice. ‘He's never been to any meeting at the Centre at all. I checked back five months. There are the lists for all the meetings. Took me an hour. No Naylor. Not him. He wasn't there.'

‘But he was seen going in.'

‘By who?'

Singh hesitated. ‘Doesn't matter. I'll check it myself.'

After Collier had gone Singh sat disoriented for a while. He believed Garvie when he said that Naylor had gone to the Centre, so why was there no record of him there?

He read through the list of meetings on Friday evening. There were eight, as Collier had said.

17.30–20.30: Group Therapy (SOTP)

18.30–20.30: Cognitive-Behavioural Group Therapy (SAD)

19.30–20.30: Class on Budgeting for Non-Financial Managers (CE)

19.30–20.30: Dealing with Domestic Crisis course (FID)

20.00–21.00: Positive Behaviour Support classes (ILD)

20.00–21.00: Female Self-Defence Class (CDA)

20.00–21.00: Group Session (GA)

20.30–21.30: Coping with Cocaine Addiction group session (GDC)