Cam was struggling to make sense of what he was hearing. Was this whole thing some kind of twisted revenge for Chrissie’s death? How could Pearson hope to get away with it? It made no sense that a police officer would do this – could do this.
‘You do know you’ll lose your job over this?’
Pearson shook his head. ‘Unlikely.’
‘You’ll be kicked out of the police force – probably end up in prison and you know what happens to ex-coppers in there–’
‘Ex-coppers? I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick, Cam.’
‘Have I? It looks to me like you’ve used your influence to set all this up and I’ll make damn sure you pay for what happened to my son.’
Pearson leaned back and laced his hands behind his head, eyes narrowed, expression serious. ‘You think I set all this up? Oh, Cam. There’s much more to it than that. And I couldn’t give a shit about losing my job – why would I? I think that might be more your concern than mine. When the police find out what you’ve done, how much you’ve stolen, do you really think you’ll still be able to work here?’
‘Stolen? I haven’t stolen anything.’
Pearson smiled and leaned towards Cam. ‘Really? So there’s not 200 grand sitting in your bank account that rightfully belongs to the school?’
Cam struggled violently to free his hands. What the hell was going on? How could this man know about the money? ‘It’s not mine. I was going to give it to somebody else,’ he panted. ‘It’s a temporary thing. It’ll be paid back in a few weeks and nobody needs to know.’
‘But I know,’ Pearson said. ‘And I’m going to make sure that everybody in this town knows. What will they think of you when they find out? When the police march you out of here in handcuffs?’
‘Penny knows!’ Cam yelled. ‘My deputy head. The money was for her. She’ll back me up.’
Pearson shook his head. ‘Cam, Cam, Cam. You really have no idea, do you?’
23
Ruth Warnesford gripped her mug tightly as she raised it to her lips, trying to control the trembling in her hands. Her brain still didn’t seem to have registered that she was alive and well, her thoughts stumbling through flashback images from her ordeal. Penny Bainbridge had been incredibly kind considering the danger Annie was in. The deputy head had told Ruth to have a break and walked with her from the front desk to the staffroom where she’d made her another mug of sweet tea – she’d even sat with Ruth for a few minutes until she was finally convinced that it was safe to leave her on her own for a while.
The image that she kept coming back to was of the classroom; the terrified faces of the students and the look of utter hopelessness that Donna Frith had given her as she’d been escorted out. Years of acting as a designated first aider had convinced her that Tom Cleaver’s wound was superficial, but she’d got the sense that the men holding the students didn’t know that. The one on the main entrance into the building had looked terrified when he’d seen the head’s son in a bloody heap on the floor and the others all seemed a bit dazed. Ruth had no idea what their plan was, but she had a strong feeling that having the students harming each other wasn’t part of it.
The head’s response to the situation had been less than impressive, in Ruth’s opinion. She’d been Cam Cleaver’s PA for over five years, and in that time, she’d got to know him fairly well and had grown to like him less and less the more she knew. He wasn’t a good leader – he was a dictator. He expected to bark orders and to have unconditional obedience from his staff. She knew that was how he thought of them, as his staff, and she also knew that there was a growing feeling of resentment towards Cleaver among some of the older teachers. Seeing him running around the school, barely clinging on to any semblance of control, was shocking but, perhaps, not entirely out of character. Cam needed to be in control and having that control taken away had to be having an intense psychological effect on the man.
In contrast, Penny Bainbridge had been a model of composure and clarity. Faced with the same situation, a child in dire peril, Penny had shown compassion and empathy for those around her and even now had gone to check on Cam after making sure that there was nothing further she could do for Ruth.
The staffroom door opened just as Ruth was draining her mug, savouring the unfamiliar sweetness of the drink.
‘You still okay?’ Penny Bainbridge was back, slightly breathless, probably from running up the stairs.
‘I’m still quite shaky,’ Ruth admitted. ‘Getting there though.’
Penny nodded. ‘Are you up to doing a job for me?’
‘Depends. I doubt I could move equipment in the library.’
‘That’s all done. It’s all set up and ready for the negotiating team. I just need to have some information ready for them and I thought you might be able to access it for me.’
Ruth smiled, eager to help if she could. It was a request rather than a demand – the difference between the headteacher and his deputy.
‘We’ve had more contact from one of the men in the humanities block. They want money.’
Relief made Ruth light-headed. It was that simple? Money could be found, a deal could be done. It was so much better than not knowing what was going on, not understanding the motives of these people.
‘How much?’ The question felt banal as soon as she asked it. It was irrelevant. There were children involved and their parents would give anything to have them safely home.
‘Half a million.’
It seemed so little. Was that the value of the twenty or so lives in the classroom?
