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The car slid on the hot, moist bitumen as Ryan steered the vehicle into a parking spot. Dawn was out of her seatbelt before the vehicle came to a complete halt. As she flung the door open, the blaring of the lockdown siren sent tingles down her spine.
‘He’s here. But where?’
‘How did Veronica know he was here?’
Ryan pulled his weapon from his shoulder holster. Dawn retrieved her handgun and tossed the bag back on the front seat ... She didn’t even recall slamming the door as she scanned the grass and pathways.
‘She has to be around here.’
‘Who was the guy?’
‘I’ve got a pretty good idea, but I can’t figure out how he managed to dump Jessica’s body. He’s too old and frail for that.’
‘And why go after Ronnie?’
Dawn heard Lisa’s door slam. ‘You stay here!’
‘Not on your life. I’m going to Abby’s classroom.’
‘The school is in lockdown. No one in or out.’
‘I might look like a peace-loving hippy to you, but don’t let my looks fool you. I’m getting Abby out of here.’
Dawn wanted to argue, but there was no point. Lisa wasn’t confrontational, but she could certainly be pig-headed when she wanted to be.
‘Stay away from the office. I’ve got an idea I know why Brad is here.’
Dawn held her gun low, in both hands and jogged towards the office entrance as the sound of emergency services sirens grew louder.
‘Backup is on the way. We should wait.’ Ryan was right behind her, despite his words of caution.
‘I can talk Brad down.’
‘You sound confident.’
‘I’m not sure, but I’ve got an idea what’s been going on. Once the grant paperwork comes through, we’ll know for sure, but it wasn’t until we saw those pictures, from the paper, and Michael mentioned the scrutiny Jessica was putting on the grant money, in particular the older grant funds, that it clicked.’
A scream stopped Dawn, as she reached out to open the office door.
Peering through the glass, she watched Rhianna being shoved down the hall—Brad’s weapon pointed at the base of her skull.
‘Let’s go,’ she whispered, then opened the glass door, listened a moment, then stepped inside. Hugging the left side of the foyer, she waited as Ryan shimmied up against her and tapped her on the shoulder.
Step by step, she inched her way to the corner, where the hallway intersected the foyer. Glancing around, she saw Rhianna and Brad disappear into Tom Fletcher’s office.
‘They’ve gone into the principal’s office.’
‘What now?’
‘Now I try to call Brad.’
Dawn punched numbers on her mobile phone. Her finger hovered over the call button.
‘You think he’ll answer?’
‘Worth a try? He’s got two hostages, and I don’t think Cooktown has a resident hostage negotiator handy.’
‘You got that right, but you’re not ...’
‘On this investigation. I know, but I know Brad.’
‘You’ve not seen him for twenty years.’
‘Nearly twenty-one, but who’s counting.’
Dawn pressed the green call button. Her heart thudded in her throat. Body heat radiated from Ryan, who was pressed up against her, gun at the ready, eyes scanning behind him and down the hall in the opposite direction.
‘Come on Brad. Pick up.’
The call rang out.
She pressed call again and waited ten rings, drew a deep breath and yelled at the top of her voice.
‘Pick it up, Brad. Ronnie’s in trouble!’
Ryan jumped.
The call connected.
‘What the hell are you ...’
‘Shut up and listen Brad. Don’t talk. Don’t even grunt. Ronnie’s life depends on it.’
For once in his life, Brad didn’t have a smart-arse remark for her.
‘Ned’s got Ronnie. You’ve got Tom. I’m not exactly sure of the connection yet, but I know there is one and I think you know what it is.’
Dawn watched Ryan’s eyes widen. He dug into his pocket, retrieved his phone and dialled. She heard him asking for a search. One she hoped would put the pieces together.
The sound of Rhianna sobbing, and Tom Fletcher calmly trying to talk his way out of the situation distracted Brad for a second.
‘Shut up!’ He yelled at his hostages, no doubt waving his loaded rifle for good effect.
‘Brad. Listen to me. I’m still gathering evidence, but I think I know why you’re there, after Tom.’
His breathing was ragged, but he was listening.
‘You thought he had Ronnie. I guess in a way, he does now, but he didn’t. She saw you coming in with the gun and called me.’
The lockdown siren continued to blare. Dawn put her finger in one ear to try and block it out.
‘Brad. I can put him away. I’m waiting on a few grant reports to seal the deal, but I need your testimony to make sure he goes down for murder. Can you give me that?’
The desktop phone rang in the principal’s office. The sound carried down Brad’s phone.
She covered her phone mic.
‘Get the bloody switchboard shut down,’ she hissed at Ryan, who was still on the phone, waiting for an answer about why old man Ned was involved.
‘We’re trying. But you might want to know, Ned is Tom’s stepfather.’
‘There’s our connection. The drunk old bastard didn’t look like he could hurt a fly.’
She took her hand away to speak, but what she heard over the line sent a cold chill down her spine. Loud voices came over the phone and down the hall. Dawn advanced. Ryan tried to grab her arm but missed.
Cursing, he followed.
‘Brad. What’s going on?’
Dawn spoke into the phone as pieces of conversation echoed down the phone and through the door.
She was almost there.
‘Let her go or I’ll shoot you ...’
‘... the balls ... get ...’
Rhianna screamed. Dawn’s blood ran cold, her heart rate jumped, and a thud hit the wall inside.
‘I’m going in.’
Dawn put her hand on the door, hoping it wasn’t locked. Relief washed over her as the knob turned in her hand. Another scream forced her to hurry. Thrusting the door open, she hit something, someone. Gun in hand, Ryan right behind.
‘Police! Put your weapons down!’
Rhianna was huddled in the corner, tears streaking her mascara and running down her face. Brad was on the ground, scrounging for his gun. She stepped on the barrel. He tried to slide it free, but Ryan landed on top of him in a dive to rival her swimming career.
A grunt, then a crack made her cringe. Turning, she studied Tom Fletcher, reclined in his high-back chair like he’d just finished a board meeting.
His smarmy smile made her shiver.
‘Thank you, Detective.’
He rose, circled around the table.
‘Don’t move. Hands where I can see them.’
‘Surely you don’t think I’m armed?’
‘I can see you aren’t, but tell me—is your stepfather?’
Tom Fletcher’s eyes widened, then narrowed to slits as his lip curled in a half grin, half snarl.