The Dead Tracks

But Megan… I think we'd have seen straight away if she'd been missing a lot of school time.'

    'She was a good student?'

    'In the top three per cent here, yes.'

    'And never got into any trouble?'

    He shook his head. 'Absolutely not.'

    'I understand she had Physics and then Biology for the last two periods of the day, and that she attended the Physics part of that?' 'Right.'

    'Her teacher confirmed that?'

    'Yes. And the fifteen other students who were in there with her.'

    'How long's the walk between classrooms?'

    'No walk at all. They're in the same block. Chemistry's on the top floor, Physics on the second and Biology on the ground.'

    'There's no CCTV in that part of the school, right?'

    'Sadly not. We have cameras, but we can't afford to have them in every building — not on the budget we're handed.' He turned in his chair and pointed to a diagram on the wall. It was a plan of the school campus with tiny CCTV icons scattered across it. 'Those are the cameras we have. One at the entrance, one on the car park, one at reception, one outside the English and Maths block, and one trained on the playing fields.'

    'Why only English and Maths?'

    'It's the block furthest away from here.'

    'Are there multiple entrances to the school?'

    'Not really. Well, not official entrances, anyway. Some of the students live in the estates beyond the football pitches, so they climb over the fence and come across the fields. There's a rear car park behind the Sixth Form block as well, where some of the students in Years 11 and 12 park their cars, if they're lucky enough to have them. That's fenced off too, but only to about waist height.'

    'So if she was going to leave the school grounds, and not be caught on CCTV, her best bet would have been jumping the fence at the back of the Sixth Form car park?'

    'Correct. I think that's what the police concluded too.'

    I reached down and got out Megan's Book of Life. 'Would it be possible to speak to a couple of students?'

    'Megan's friends?'

    'Yes.' I looked down at the pad. 'Lindsey Watson and Kaitlin Devonish?'

    He nodded, picked up the phone and punched in a four-digit number. On the other side of the door, I heard a phone ring in reception. 'Linda, I need Lindsey Watson and Kaitlin Devonish sent around as soon as possible, please.' He put the phone down. 'Anyone else?'

    I looked down at the pad, turned it around and slid it across the desk to him. The six people at the bottom,' I said, pointing to the boys' names. 'Are any of them students here?'

    He removed a pair of glasses from the top pocket of his jacket and popped them on, studying the names for a moment. Yes.'

    'All of them?'

    'I recognize all of them but one.'

    'Who's the odd one out?'

    'Anthony 'A. J.' Grant.'

    'You don't recognize that name?'

    'No,' he replied, taking off his glasses. He got up and went to a filing cabinet at the back of the room. It had three drawers, each filled with the same Manila folders, each folder tabbed. Presumably he liked doing things the old-fashioned way. He went to G, but didn't find anything.

    'He's definitely not a student here.'

    'Every student in the school is in there?'

    'Every current student, yes.'

    I brought the pad back across towards me and put a question mark next to A. J. Grant. The other names on here —' I pushed it back towards him '— are they all in the same year as Megan?'

    'Yes.'

    'Is it going to be possible to speak to them?'

    'Certainly — but only Lindsey and Kaitlin today. Four of them are on a field trip to Normandy. The other… Well, the truth is, I don't know where Charles Bryant is. He missed a lot of school last year because his mother died. This week is the one-year anniversary of her passing, and he hasn't been in at all. I've tried calling his father, but have had no response. I even sent one of the teachers round to his house, but no one was home. I've no idea where he is, and to be honest, I think this week he's best left alone.'

    'Would it be possible to get an address for him?'

    'I can't give out addresses, I'm afraid.'

    There was a knock at the door. Bothwick looked up.

    'Come in.'

    Two girls entered. They shuffled forward, their eyes flitting between the both of us. One was beautiful: petite with a dusting of make-up, slim and womanly. The other was plainer, bigger, dressed more conservatively, but smiling.

    'Kaitlin, Lindsey, this is Mr Raker. He's looking into Megan's disappearance for her mum and dad.'

    I stood. 'David.'

    'Lindsey,' the bigger girl beamed.

    The other girl hesitated.

    'Kaitlin,' she said quietly. She had an accent.

    I turned to Bothwick. 'Is it okay if I take them somewhere?'

    He looked completely taken aback, as if I'd threatened to burn down the school. What do you mean?'

    'I mean, is it okay if I take the girls for a coffee?'

    'Why?'

    'I'd just like to speak to them in private.' He eyed me suspiciously. 'I'd prefer them to stay on school premises.'

    'Fine. So is there somewhere we can go where we won't get interrupted?'

    'You could go to the canteen.' 'There won't be any kids in there?' 'We've already had lunch.' I looked at my watch. Two-thirty. 'Okay, we'll go there.'

Chapter Four

    The canteen was long and narrow, the floor tiled in old hardwood, the ceilings high and sculptured in white plaster. Along one side were four huge windows. Light poured in, even as rain started spattering against the glass. Opposite was the kitchen, with big women in white uniforms cleaning out huge vats full of half-finished food.

    On the walk over, Lindsey had done all the talking. The last time she'd seen Megan was before the Carvers went to Florida.

    'She seemed fine,' she said, turning to her friend. 'Didn't she, Kay?'

    Kaitlin glanced at me, then at her friend, and nodded.

    'So how come you didn't see her between the time she got back and the time she disappeared?' I asked Lindsey.

    'I was on a student exchange in Italy.'

    'What about you, Kaitlin?'

    Kaitlin glanced briefly at me. She looked nervous, like she might be in trouble. The police had probably been to her home, asking questions and trying to work the angles. Sometimes that had the opposite effect. You ended up pushing harder because you felt like they were closing up, but they were only closing up because they felt like they weren't helping. Maybe, in some way, Kaitlin felt responsible. If she'd met Megan outside the penultimate class of the day, instead of by the lockers, she might never have vanished. Instead she said goodbye to her friend