Silent Night

Fifteen hours before the murder

Cassie was bored. Leon and Bradley were having a conversation about the film they’d watched last night in the communal area, which she’d thought was crap. She didn’t enjoy action films, especially not something set in space. She liked romance, the sort of film with a gorgeous lead actor she could fall in love with. Leaving the rest of them in the common room, she went back to her bedroom to get her bag. Mr Wilkinson said they needed to be ready to leave at half past four.

Closing the door behind her, she flung herself down on her bed, then rolled over when she felt something hard against her back. Picking up the object, she examined it excitedly. Another gift!

She tore off the purple paper and opened the little box. It was a necklace, with a small silver pendant dangling from it. At first she thought it was a dog, but on closer inspection she realised it was actually a wolf. Turning the paper over, she looked for the note. There was always a note.

In the end she found it at the foot of her bed. It read:

Dear Cassie,

You have been such a good friend to me, I wanted to give you something special. The wolf represents loyalty – you have been loyal, always helping me when I needed it. Wear this and think of our friendship.

Beaming with pleasure, Cassie put the necklace on and looked at herself in the mirror. The little wolf’s head sat in the perfect position at the base of her throat. Nobody had ever given her jewellery before. She’d had other presents, but nothing as special as this.

When had it been left? She hadn’t been back to her room since this morning, so they could have left it at any time in the last few hours. Smiling to herself, she was sure she knew who her secret gift-giver was, whatever Leon said. He didn’t know what he was talking about, and she’d show him.

Cassie thought about going back out into the sitting room wearing the necklace, just to see if any of the others noticed. But she couldn’t – it had to be a secret, her friend had been very clear on that. If she started telling people about the gifts they would stop, and that was the last thing she wanted. She was special, and she would do anything for her friend to keep it that way.

Chapter 9

Monday 26th November

Why won’t they let us help?

There’s a kid missing, we need to find him.

What are the police doing?

I waved my hands firmly at the group of deaf people who had turned up unannounced at Normanby Hall an hour earlier. A couple of PCs flanked them, giving the group sideways looks as we communicated.

Stop! I waved my hands high in the air to make sure I had their attention. You know I can’t interpret if you all sign at once.

Some of them looked suitably chastised but a couple scowled at me, as if I was the one stopping them from helping. I didn’t have any gloves on, because that would have made my signing really unclear, and my hands were aching from the cold. Rubbing them together, I wondered how much of my morning this was going to take up.

‘What do you need to tell them?’ I asked, turning to DS Singh next to me. He gazed past me towards the tree line for a moment, then looked back towards the crowd in front of us, huddled against the steps of Normanby Hall.

‘I understand that you want to help,’ Singh began, addressing them while I interpreted. ‘A child is missing, a child from your community, and we appreciate all support that’s offered to the police. But there is still quite a bit of snow on the ground in the park, and we don’t know if there is still evidence buried underneath it. If we have too many people walking around, there’s a chance it could make it harder for us to find Leon. Do you understand?’

A big man at the front rolled his eyes once Singh had finished speaking. You don’t care about the boy, he signed, an accusing look aimed directly at the detective. You should be encouraging people to help!

‘We doubt Leon is still in the park,’ Singh replied, doing his best to reason with the man. ‘It would be more helpful if you could share our posts on social media, and ask anyone you know in the local area if they’ve seen him.’

Most of the group were nodding in agreement with Singh, but the man at the front clearly wasn’t satisfied. Seeing his friends were less than keen to start arguing with the police, however, he relented and stepped back, turning to sign something to a woman next to him. A moment later, they started to move towards the main gate, the two PCs trailing in their wake.

The officer who’d phoned me that morning had sounded very flustered when she explained that a group of deaf people had turned up at Normanby Hall. The police officers who were there had managed to establish that they wanted to help, but beyond that the communication barrier had been too great. I’d arrived about ten minutes after DS Singh, and it had taken us a good half hour to calm them down and convince them that their attempt to be helpful was anything but.

I understood why they wanted to do something. In a small community, you protected your own; even if they didn’t know Leon, they identified with him in many ways, and they wanted to make sure he was safe. They’d just gone about it in the wrong way.

‘Want me to wait around in case they come back?’ I asked Singh, as he watched the group trudge away through the slush.

He nodded slowly, deep in thought. ‘Probably a good idea. I’m off to look at the pavilion, if you want to come with me?’

It seemed a strange request, as I wasn’t a police officer, but I knew from the last case that he liked to have someone to bounce his ideas off, and it looked like there was something on his mind.

We walked in silence for a few minutes, following the police tape through the churned-up snow. It was only once the cabins were in sight that I ventured to ask a question.

‘What’s on your mind?’

‘I’m worried about Leon,’ he replied.

I nodded. ‘Do you think he’s alive?’

Singh blew out a long breath. ‘I hope so. If Steve’s murderer also killed Leon, why haven’t we found his body yet? No, I think he’s on the run.’

‘Do you think he killed his teacher?’

‘Either that, or he knows who did it and he’s trying to get away from them. Or they took him with them.’

I shivered. Leon was only fifteen, and whatever had happened I was sure he would be terrified.

We passed the cabins and carried on through the park, until the cricket pavilion came into view. There was blue and white police tape around the building, but Singh lifted it up to allow me to slip underneath, then followed suit.

‘What are you looking for?’ I asked, allowing him to go first as we approached the door to the pavilion.

‘I want to get a feel for the building,’ he replied, glancing at the windows before pushing open the door. ‘I want to try and work out what Leon could have been doing here, see what it’s like inside, find out what he might have seen.’ He gave me a brittle smile. ‘Until we can work out what actually happened, it might help.’

I nodded. ‘Whatever I can do.’ I thought it didn’t really matter who was there, he just needed a warm body to listen to his thoughts as he voiced them, but then he gave me a smile that made my insides glow. I realised he was genuinely pleased I was there with him, and felt flattered that he’d asked me.

Following him inside, I looked around at the bare wood of the floorboards and the panelled walls. The building was fairly basic, with one long main room, then two changing areas off to the right-hand side. Singh wandered through to check these areas, but I knew he wasn’t looking for anything in particular. He’d be letting his brain process his ideas while he looked, then focus his attention on the areas that he felt mattered when he’d had that time to mull things over.

Not wanting to disturb his train of thought, I stayed by the door until he was back in the main room. Plastic chairs and folding tables with chipped veneer surfaces were stacked along the back wall, dust gathering on them. It was hardly the season for cricket, and I doubted this building was hired out for events in the way larger cricket clubs might be used.

‘What am I missing?’ Singh’s voice startled me slightly; I hadn’t realised he was standing right next to me.

‘Why do you think there’s something you’re missing?’ I asked, turning the question back round on him.

‘We know Leon left the cabin at some point during the night or the early hours of the morning, because he wasn’t there when the staff and students woke up at seven. We also know that Leon must have been in here, because the door had been opened and the snow outside was disturbed. No one else would have had that opportunity after the snow started other than Steve, and the few footprints we found were several sizes too small to be his. So, we need to know why Leon came here in the first place, and then why he left.’

‘Maybe he just wanted a bit of time to himself, then realised it was freezing and this was the nearest place to shelter without going back with his tail between his legs?’ I suggested.

Singh nodded slowly. ‘That’s possible. A fifteen-year-old boy would probably be too proud to go straight back if he was in a sulk about something. But if that was the case, why didn’t he stay here?’

I turned to look at the window at the end of the long room, and nodded towards it. Singh and I both approached the window and looked out. From there, we had a clear view of the little clearing in the trees where Sasha Thomas and I had found Steve Wilkinson’s body.

‘He saw his head teacher being killed,’ I murmured, taking a deep breath.

‘Possibly,’ Singh replied, tapping his fingers on the windowsill. ‘Or did he see Steve outside looking for him, then leave here in order to confront him?’

I couldn’t imagine what might drive a teenager to kill one of his teachers, but I didn’t contradict Singh. I knew the police had to consider all possible angles.

Singh turned back to the room and began to pace up and down. I ignored him and continued to look out of the window towards the clearing, almost as if the longer I looked, the closer I got to figuring it out. Why was I so desperate to come up with an answer? I realised it was because of Singh. Even though I wasn’t a police officer, he trusted me with information about the case, and I wanted him to carry on putting that trust in me. On top of that, there was part of me that wanted to impress him. I felt my face flush slightly as I acknowledged that to myself, a slight churning feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I was glad I was still facing away from him.

I cleared my throat to bring myself back to the moment and shake these thoughts out of my head. Max was the one who had asked me out, the one I’d been enjoying dating for the past eight or nine months, and the last thing I wanted was part of my brain playing the ‘grass is greener’ game. Turning away from the window, I offered a suggestion.

‘Could he have come here after Steve’s murder?’ I asked. ‘He saw what happened, then ran and hid in here?’

Singh’s eyes lit up. ‘Of course, that’s definitely an option. We’d assumed he was here before Steve died, but there’s nothing to say he didn’t arrive after. Though that still leaves the question of where he went next.’

I turned back to the window, but stopped myself mid-movement. Something had caught my attention, a slight glint in the corner of my eye. Bending down, I tried to locate whatever it was I’d just seen. Behind me, Singh watched.

‘Here,’ I said triumphantly, pointing at the tiny object I’d found. Singh pulled a pair of latex gloves out of his pocket and carefully picked it up, holding it up to the light from the window to see it more clearly.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘It’s a charm, I think. From a bracelet.’

‘It’s a letter C.’

We were both silent for a moment.

‘C for Courtney, or C for Cassie?’ I asked quietly as he continued to look at the charm.

‘I don’t know,’ Singh replied, ‘but I think at least one of these kids has been lying to us.’

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