Destroy Me by Karen Cole (read people like a book TXT) 📗

school appears on the ­monitor. There’s the front gate, a car whizzing past, part of the empty playground, nothing but a few fallen leaves drifting in the wind and another section of the playground with climbing apparatus. Nearby, a cleaner is tipping a dustpan into the bin, but otherwise, there’s not a soul about.

‘About what time and where do you want to look?’ Nicky asks.

‘Can you look at just Butterflies classroom? Outside. From about four to five o’clock?’

She scrolls down, obligingly. ‘I’m quite enjoying this. I feel like a detective,’ she says laughing, and I smile wanly.

I watch the screen, my heart in my mouth, as the first parents arrive at four o’clock in dribs and drabs and until there are a crowd of them some with prams, some chatting, some just standing waiting. Then at four o’clock, the doors fly open and the children begin pouring out. I catch my breath and peer closely at the monitor until Luke arrives. I watch Harry run up to him, trailing what looks like a kite made of paper and string. Now . . . where’s Dylan? But Luke shoves the kite into Harry’s backpack, grabs Harry’s hand and they walk away out of shot. There is no sign of Dylan.

Who took him? I can only think that it must have been someone in that crowd. I watch the footage like a hawk until most of the children have been picked up and I see myself arrive. But all that time Dylan never appears on the screen. I sit back, disappointment twisting in my belly.

‘There you are, look,’ Nicky exclaims suddenly, pointing with excitement at the monitor. ‘You had your handbag when you arrived.’

It’s an odd feeling, like an out-of-body experience, watching myself enter the classroom and emerge again a few minutes later without Dylan. I look relaxed, unhurried, as if I’ve got all the time in the world. I feel sorry for that oblivious woman, a stranger to me now. In a few seconds, I think, your world is going to come crashing down around you.

‘You still had your handbag when you left,’ Nicky says, triumphantly. She sits back as if she’s solved a great mystery. ‘You didn’t leave it in the classroom.’

Thankfully, she’s so focused on the missing handbag that she hasn’t noticed the glaringly obvious absence of Dylan. ‘Are you sure it hasn’t fallen under the seat of the car?’ she continues. ‘I know that’s happened to me before.’

‘You’re probably right,’ I say, swallowing a sudden wave of hopelessness. I was so sure that I would see who had taken Dylan. ‘I’ll check the car again. Thank you.’

Dylan must have left through the back entrance to the classroom because he didn’t come out the of the front. I want to ask Nicky if there are cameras at the back but can’t think of a legitimate reason why I would want to see the CCTV footage of the back of the classroom when we’ve just established that I still had my bag when I left.

‘You’re very welcome, love,’ Nicky smiles. ‘I hope you find it.’ And she turns away, back to her computer.

There must be something else I can do. Someone from the class must know where he is. I’m about to leave when I pause in the doorway. ‘While I’m here, I don’t suppose you have a list of contact numbers for Dylan’s class?’

She shakes her head and presses her lips together. ‘I’m afraid I can’t give you that. Data protection. Sorry, I don’t make the rules. What do you want them for?’

‘Oh, it’s just that he’s having a birthday party next week. And I don’t want to miss anyone out.’

She sighs. ‘Well, I can give you a list of the children’s names in the class without the phone numbers. Will that do?’

I suppose it’s better than nothing. ‘Thank you,’ I say.

While she’s printing out the list, grumbling about all the rules and regulations she has to follow, I glance at the various notices and photos on the wall. There are a few different timetables and a collage of pictures of children on a school trip and of various sports teams. And at the far end of the room, there’s a large board with individual head shots of all the members of staff, accompanied by quotes from each of them in speech bubbles. One picture in particular catches my eye and I draw in my breath sharply. What’s he doing here? Floppy blond hair, intense blue eyes and a smile of perfect white teeth.

‘Life would b flat without music,’ says his speech bubble.

I had no idea that he was a teacher. It can’t be a coincidence, can it?

‘I know Adam,’ I say, trying to keep my voice light and conversational. ‘But I didn’t know he worked here.’

‘What?’ Nicky looks up from her computer. ‘Oh, Adam Holbrooke, yes, he comes in sometimes to help out with extra music lessons. He plays the ukulele. He taught the year threes this term. The kids love him.’

‘Was he here today?’

‘Um, as a matter of fact, he was.’

‘Wait, don’t you want your class list?’ Nicky waves a sheet of paper at me as I dive towards the door.

‘Yes, sure, thank you,’ I say, snatching it from her hand. ‘Sorry, I just remembered something really important.’

‘Well, good luck with finding your bag.’

‘Thanks. I expect it’s in the car like you said.’

In my car, I check my phone to see if I have any more messages. But there’s nothing, just a message from Georgia apologising for the mix-up and asking if I’m okay. I wonder what Luke has told her about me. Still, I don’t have time to worry about Luke and Georgia. I need to follow my gut – and my gut is leading me to Adam and Cecily House. I drive home quickly, drag out my photo album and select a photo. Then I hop back in the car and drive to Cecily Hill.

Thirty-three

Adam seems taken aback that I’m here, outside his house again.

‘Catherine,