The Teacher: A shocking and compelling new crime thriller – NOT for the faint-hearted! (16 page)

‘No. You wouldn’t.’ The man pulled out a knife, a curved knife, already stained with blood. ‘Do you like this? Your friend Kevin liked it, too.’

‘Kevin?’ So that was five of them gone already. How did he not find out about this until now? Why had it been kept from him? Why hadn’t it made the national news?

The man stuck the knife into David’s sternum. He screamed, he could see it was only about a centimetre deep, the man pulled it, until a thin line of blood appeared on his torso. He pulled out the knife and then put it in again, still shallow, pulling down in uniform formation, then again and again until there was a barcode configuration across his chest. It took a few seconds for the blood to start flowing from the cuts, shallow and short. The knife went in again, all the while David focused on the camera, the red light blinking – this was being filmed, who was going to see it? The feeling was disappearing from his body as the hemlock took effect, he prayed for it to work faster, for death to come quickly. The room was blurring, there was something soothing about the repetitive action of the torture, now that he couldn’t feel it, at least. He closed his eyes and waited for the darkness to wash over him.

David woke with a start. His eyes hurt, his throat hurt, he tried to swallow but he couldn’t. He tried to turn his head to look at the clock but the pain in his throat was unbearable, he reached up and felt the tube in his neck, he clawed at his mouth and ripped it out, the hard plastic scraping against raw skin. He looked over at the bedside table, the only light in the room was coming from the digital alarm clock. He had been there, lying on the bed, for hours. The room was silent, beyond silent, his laboured breathing the only sound. It seemed he was alone, but he couldn’t be sure. Still unable to fully process his surroundings, he tried to move. He fell on to the floor; it was sticky and cold. The lower part of his body was still numb so he couldn’t stand. He reached up to the bedside and switched on the lamp.

The first thing David saw was his arm. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the light. His skin hung from his forearm in ribbons, the blood congealed and clotted. From the corner of his eye he saw the wall of mirrors, he closed his eyes, afraid of what he might see, afraid his assailant was still there. He tried to pull himself back up on to the bed but he felt so heavy, there was no leverage, just pure weight. He felt around with his hands, the bed sheets were covered with blood. He grabbed at them and felt the glutinous liquid seeping through his fingers. His blood, no wonder he felt so weak. His fingers brushed something cold and metal, he opened his eyes and saw the strange knife, quickly he picked it up and held it out in front of him, eyes wide, vigilant, ready to fight if need be, forgetting for a moment the mirrors. Then he saw it, saw himself. His feet were gone, holes where his knees used to be, the rest of him covered in deep red lines where the knife had left its mark. The cuts were shallow enough that his bleeding had been mostly superficial, the bigger cuts had been cauterised. The poison had also slowed things down considerably. His eyes wandered up the reflection. He was relieved when he saw his genitals were still in place but then experienced another horror altogether as he saw his face. Cuts spiralled out in a spider-web pattern, and in the centre was nothing but a hole, his nose was gone. He looked over at the phone. He was alone, he was sure of it, he could reach out and call the police, the paramedics would be there soon and they could take him to a hospital, he would survive, but then what? He looked at the knife in his hands and realised why it had been left there; a small act of mercy. It only took one more look in the mirror and he was resolute. He pushed the blade into his chest, just slightly to the left of centre, beneath the ribcage, pushing upwards until his hands fell to his side and he slumped against the bed.

The Museum

After the gruesome discovery of Ian Markham’s body, which was Adrian’s case due to him and Grey visiting the aggrieved wife who thought he had fled, he had managed to secure a foothold in the murder investigation team. The obvious connections between the murders meant Adrian was no longer on the sidelines. The search for Ryan Hart was on. The station was buzzing with bodies, all leave had been cancelled, and it was all hands on deck. Adrian was now sharing a desk with Grey to accommodate all the extra personnel that had been brought in from other stations around the county.

‘Have you found any connection between Ryan and Ian Markham?’ Grey said as she closed another file and threw it on the stack next to the desk.

‘Maybe there is no connection,’ Adrian said.

‘Ryan was just trying to put the wind up you, he knows he’s caught, that’s all.’

‘I wish we could get our hands on the Kevin Hart file, namely the pathologist’s report.’

‘We’re on the Markham case.’

‘I know. You can’t tell me this has nothing to do with it. I know it’s not the same but you have got to admit, it fits.’ Adrian sighed. ‘We need to find out if he has any connection to Churchill School. Did you speak to his wife yet?’

‘Yup, turns out she’s getting a huge insurance pay-out now they found a body, well, enough of a body to determine he’s dead.’

‘She didn’t have any idea who did it? Does she have an alibi?’

‘None, but to be honest I think she was focusing all of her energy on trying to sound upset. She was at some yoga retreat with her sister for the time of the murder so she is definitely not in the frame.’

‘Did you ask her about Stone? About the school?’

‘I did, she said she couldn’t remember, but she was lying. She just doesn’t want to be involved in the investigation any more.’

‘Grey!’ Morris called across the room. Both Adrian and Grey looked up as Morris signalled her over. ‘Here!’

There was a man, an officer from another division, in Morris’ office, Grey went in and Morris closed the door behind her. Adrian watched as the men spoke to Grey, she in turn folded her arms and stayed well back looking at her feet like she wanted to get out of there as fast as possible, nodding reluctantly at the DCI. Grey squeezed a smile out before almost ripping the door off its hinges as she left his office.

‘Everything OK?’ Adrian asked as she walked straight past and out of the station, it didn’t take a detective to figure out she was upset.

Outside, Grey was pacing back and forth smoking a cigarette, running her hands through her hair repeatedly.

‘I’m fine,’ she said as she saw Adrian approaching.

‘What was all that about? Was he from your old station?’

‘Don’t worry about it, Miley.’ She offered him a cigarette, he took it. ‘Some people I used to work with are going to be helping out here, they had to run it past me first, although it wasn’t really a request.’

‘Run it past you?’

‘Yeah, I tried to get a restraining order against one of the detectives. Against my old partner, actually.’

‘Bloody hell, what for?’

‘It’s a long story, trust me.’ Grey looked around to see if they were alone, she grabbed Adrian by the arm and pulled him round to the side of the station. Adrian watched as she took one last drag of her cigarette and stamped it out, he was waiting for her to speak again but instead she took the bottom of her sweatshirt and pulled it up to just beneath her bra. There was a diagonal scar running from up under the shirt right down across her abdomen and down past the waistline of her jeans. She obviously ran or something, her core was rock solid and he could see the definition of her muscles under the scar.

‘Another officer did that?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘So what exactly?’

‘I figured out that he wasn’t being completely straight with me about a few things on a fairly big investigation we were working, the one that put me out of commission.’

‘You think he was bent?’

‘I got a lead that took me to the residence of a well-known criminal and when I got there, some other undesirables were waiting for me.’

‘You think he set you up?’

‘My partner must have told them I was coming, they knew things about me, things I only told him.’

‘What kind of things?’

‘Just personal things that you might say to your partner.’

‘How did you get that scar? It’s pretty nasty.’ Adrian didn’t know how far to push this. He had noticed her getting anxious a couple of times in the past, he hoped it wasn’t something he needed to be concerned about.

‘I got pinned down and I was cut, they were fitting up the guy whose house it was for my murder.’

‘Pinned down?’ he repeated the words that stuck out the most to him.

‘I can hold my own, Miley, don’t worry.’

‘Did they catch them? Why would your partner do that?’

‘I wasn’t playing the game properly. I think I was being taught a lesson. I spotted him talking to someone he shouldn’t have been talking to … and no, they haven’t caught them. Not yet at least.’

‘Wasn’t playing how?’

‘I had spoken to my DCI confidentially about him, said I didn’t trust him. A day after I made the complaint, this happened.’

‘That’s why you transferred?’

‘It was this or a desk job. Anyway, he’s here, he’s working on the Hart case. Apparently he’s a great detective or something, got a promotion and everything.’

‘Are you going to be OK?’

‘I’m not made of glass, Miley, don’t worry. The official line was that I shouldn’t have gone without backup. I brought a lot of media attention to the house. Lots of debates about the competency of the brass. No one likes that. Funny thing is I think they put me with you as punishment.’

‘Me?’

‘You may not know this but you have a bit of a rep with the ladies. I guess I’m lucky I’m not your type.’ She smiled. ‘Anyway, I think I may have caught us a break.’

‘How so?’

‘They brought in my old forensics guy too. Markham’s crime scene is a complete mess. They needed the extra help.’

‘And that’s good why?’

‘If we can get hold of the knife they found at Ryan’s, he will look at it for us.’

‘You trust this guy?’

‘Absolutely, he was the only one who had my back in Plymouth towards the end, he’s a good friend.’

‘Let’s go see Ryan Hart’s mother.’

Martha Hart answered the door with a big smile. She was wearing a bright red dress; hardly the outfit of a woman in mourning.

‘Officers!’ She beamed and with a welcoming flurry of her arm she invited them inside. She took them to the first room nearest the entrance and swung the door open to reveal a plethora of boxes. ‘This is absolutely everything of my husband’s. Feel free to do what you want with it. I have some charity people coming tomorrow, it’s what Kevin would have wanted. He was very charitable. But take whatever you need.’

‘We don’t have a warrant.’

‘You don’t need one.
Mi casa su casa
.’ She smiled.

‘Mrs Hart, have you heard from Ryan at all?’ Miles asked.

‘Sadly, no.’ Her smile dropped. ‘He no longer trusts me, sees me as the enemy because I always took his father’s side. I don’t blame him, either.’

‘If you knew where he was, would you tell us?’ Grey asked.

‘Probably not, and no I don’t think he is capable of the things they are saying on the news.’ Her false smile returned. ‘Let me go get you some lemonade.’

She disappeared. They heard the clip clopping of her feet on the parquet flooring as she made her way to the kitchen.

Grey opened a box and started rummaging through the paraphernalia inside. The box Adrian chose was full of watches, cufflinks, aftershave bottles, solid-gold tie pins and other expensive trinkets. Kevin certainly liked the finer things in life. In another box Adrian found paperwork, bills and other business correspondence, a laptop with a smashed screen.

‘Whoa!’ Grey exclaimed. Adrian looked up to see Grey holding up an S & M porno magazine. ‘There’s a whole box of these.’

‘Ryan did say his dad was into all that.’

‘Some of this is pretty hardcore, foreign stuff, illegal over here.’

‘Can’t imagine what the charity shops are going to do with those,’ Adrian mumbled.

Adrian kept looking through the same stack of papers. He didn’t know what was ringing the alarm bells. There were some old receipts, a parking ticket, an invitation and some business cards. He put them in a clear plastic bag and put them in his pocket, he would take a look later on back in the station.

Grey discovered four more boxes of pornography, a box full of sex toys and other paraphernalia like restraints, blindfolds and gags. None of which had ever come up in any of Daniels’ reports they had seen.

‘Here are your drinks.’ Martha Hart had reappeared in the doorway.

‘Thank you.’ Grey smiled, quickly hiding what she had in her hand.

‘Oh, don’t worry, dear, who do you think packed all those boxes?’ Martha’s smile was unwavering, she was obviously accustomed to putting on a front for appearances’ sake. Adrian knew for a fact that she had taken more than one or two beatings from her husband herself.

‘Thank you, Mrs Hart.’ Adrian stood up and took a drink from her, she patted him on the arm and watched him drink. He took a gulp and her smile widened. ‘Delicious.’

‘Old family recipe.’

‘Who came and took your statement?’

‘Lovely young man, tall, what was his name? Detective Daniels.’

‘Did you happen to mention your husband’s um …’

‘Oh yes, I showed him my husband’s shed, told him he’d probably find all the answers he was looking for in there.’

‘OK, thank you, we’ll get out of your hair now.’

‘Thanks for the drink.’ Grey smiled.

Outside the house Grey gave Adrian a look, she was thinking what he was thinking. They would have to look over any statements Daniels had taken again, he was obviously selective about what was relevant or not. Adrian’s phone rang, it was Daniels.

‘We found Ryan Hart,’ Daniels said.

When Adrian and Grey arrived at the disused petrol station on the A38 just outside the city, Daniels was waiting with a big shit-eating grin on his face.

‘Where is he?’ Adrian asked. He presumed Daniels was basking in the glory of having found Ryan before Adrian had been able to.

‘In there.’ Daniels pointed to the large white building at the rear of the station. It had been a café at some point but now it was all boarded up, it was striped with rust where the pipes had leaked on to the unkempt paintwork. ‘This place has been shut for thirty-odd years, perfect hiding place for scum like Ryan Hart.’

Adrian walked into the abandoned building noting the smell of stale urine and the metallic aroma of blood. This place was obviously frequented by the city’s undesirables and unseen homeless. There were empty bottles and cigarette cartons strewn around the floor. Judging by the volume of discarded hypodermic needles on the surfaces this was a regular hangout for the addicts. Adrian found himself wondering if his father had ever spent time in here. This was a city with money and prestige, no one liked to think about the ones without it, it would impinge on their imagined superiority.

A group of techs huddled around Ryan’s body, which lay on a blackened mattress in the corner of the dismal room. His eyes were bulging and a needle was hanging from the pit of his elbow with a constellation of fresh needle marks. He was right, he hadn’t even lasted a week.

‘How did you find him?’

‘Little something I like to call police work.’ Daniels smiled.

‘And he was just like this?’

‘Some junkie phoned it in looking for a reward.’

‘What junkie?’

‘Didn’t leave a name after he heard there was no reward. Public phone box, no CCTV. What’s it matter, anyway? Thought you would be glad to see this scumbag dead,’ Daniels quickly answered.

They moved Ryan into a body bag when they were done taking photos. Adrian watched Ryan’s face disappear as they zipped the bag up. Adrian looked over the scene, Ryan had plenty of friends who would have put him up, failing that plenty of people who wanted to impress him. Alternatively maybe someone saw a kink in the chain of Ryan’s command and decided now would be a good time to take him out. Whatever had happened Adrian was certain it was not a clear-cut case of suicide by overdose, or even accidental overdose, for that matter. As far as anyone knew, Ryan had never been known to inject. Yet again Adrian felt Ryan’s conspiracy theory taking on even more weight in his mind.

Back in the station Adrian had made his excuses and headed for the toilets. He closed his eyes as he splashed water on his face. His eye was still sore where Ryan had hit him. The familiar pain that came not only from Ryan’s fist but from the countless times his father’s fist had connected with the exact same spot, the pain felt almost like coming home. He missed that pain sometimes. Sometimes he wanted nothing more than to be broken and bleeding on the ground. He thought about Ryan’s body in that disused café, the slender muscular frame looking more like a junkie than ever. He looked at the bruise around his eye in the mirror, it was yellow and green. In a few days it wouldn’t be there at all and Adrian’s last tangible connection to Ryan would be gone. He pressed the spot to see if it hurt to the touch. When it didn’t he just pressed harder.

He couldn’t help thinking about his conversation with Ryan. What was he missing? There had to be some connection he wasn’t seeing, he just needed to find it. Now more than ever he was convinced that for once Ryan hadn’t been lying. As he looked at his reflection he wondered what would happen if he just lunged forward, driving his face into the glass, just to feel the pain. It would be crazy, he knew that, but when you are born into a life of violence and pain, anything else feels wrong. Maybe that’s why Ryan had become the man he had. Adrian knew what it felt like to be betrayed by a parent and he also knew that a large proportion of drug addicts were victims of childhood sexual abuse. Ryan was an easy person to frame, his whole life had been a prelude to being set up. Even without the charges sticking in the past. Why hadn’t they stuck?