City on Fire, page 26
‘Mrs Howe?’ Jo nodded. ‘My name is Deepak. I’m one of the doctors, would you like to come through for a chat?’
‘Are they OK? Can I see them?’ she said, aware she’d given too many death messages in her time not to spot the preamble.
‘We’re helping them all we can at the moment, but we should talk in private.’
Jo followed the doctor as closely as she could without tripping into him, then waited while he used his ID card to unlock a door to the left.
As she stepped in, the room did little to salve Jo’s terror. The soft chairs, gentle wallpaper and tissues on the table all screamed somewhere where hearts were broken.
‘Please, take a seat,’ said Deepak.
Jo perched on the edge of a floral two-seater settee, silently urging the doctor to get it over and done with. Her whole body shook.
‘Mrs Howe, both of your boys are very unwell. They seem to have some kind of food poisoning and we have sedated them for now, but the next twenty-four hours are critical. I must ask you, is there anything you know that they might have eaten which could have brought this on? Any allergies, any food which might be out of date? I gather from the paramedics that they take packed lunches to school.’
‘Yes to the packed lunches, but no to the allergies. My mum looked after them overnight but I’m not sure what she put in their boxes. Probably something like a cheese and pickle sandwich, cereal bar, a banana and a fruit drink. I can check but they can eat anything.’
‘I understand.’ By the age of him, Jo doubted that. ‘Nothing else?’
‘No. They’d both have had Coco Pops for breakfast, I think. She always gives them that. Do you think it’s something they’ve eaten?’
‘We don’t know yet. As I say, we have sedated them both and they really are in the best place. The symptoms we are seeing, well, we don’t see them every day, so we are trying to work out what they have taken so we can provide them with the right treatment.’
‘Do you think they’ve been poisoned?’
The doctor looked taken aback. ‘Well I’m not able to say. Is there any reason why they may have been?’
‘I’m not sure, it’s just some stuff’s been happening to some of my colleagues and I just wondered.’
‘Poison?’
‘No.’
The doctor looked more relaxed, infuriatingly so in fact. ‘I see. It’s probably best not to overthink these things. Let us focus on what’s causing their condition so we can make them better.’
‘Can I see them now?’
‘Briefly, but they are in isolation until we know what we are dealing with.’
Deepak stood and Jo followed him out of the door, up some stairs and through a maze of corridors. They reached a sign saying High Dependency Unit, and once again the doctor’s card allowed them in. He guided Jo to a window. She was about to ask what she was supposed to be looking at when it dawned on her. The two mounds beneath the tangle of tubes and cables, surrounded by multicoloured flashing screens and what looked like bellows, were Ciaran and Liam.
‘My babies, my babies,’ she cried as she pounded against the glass. ‘What have they done to you?’
The world blurred out.
She couldn’t remember how she ended up in a different but identical family room, but as she looked up, she saw an older doctor who seemed to wear both a look of empathy and of wanting to get this over with.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Jo. ‘Can you tell me what’s going on?’
‘Of course. I’m Rebecca, one of the consultants. I won’t go over what Deepak told you, other than to say Ciaran and Liam are very sick but in the best hands. It’s a matter of time but we really do need to know what’s in them so we can give them the right treatment. You have no idea?’
‘No, I told him that. I think they might have been poisoned deliberately though.’ Jo could have punched Rebecca’s patronising look right off her face. ‘I mean it.’
‘Of course, but that’s most unusual and doesn’t affect what we are trying to do. I’m afraid until we know, it’s a waiting game.’
Jo stood up. ‘Well, if you don’t believe me, I’ll speak to some people who will. You never know, it might just save their lives.’
Running down the stairs and out of the hospital, Jo had no idea of where she was going or what her next step should be. All she knew was that hanging around watching her boys fade away would only achieve just that.
As she reached her car, the flapping yellow fixed penalty notice mocked her from the windscreen. She ripped it off, opened the door and chucked it into the footwell. She needed to tell Darren so tapped on Belmarsh’s number. Three times it rang out.
She sat in the driver’s seat and gripped the steering wheel. People said that long, deep breaths were the key to a calm mind, so she gave it a go. After five, she concluded that was bollocks. What the hell could she do? Instinctively answering her own question, she called Bob.
‘Ma’am, you OK?’
Just the sound of his voice broke the dam of tears and all she could do was sob.
‘Jo. Where are you? What’s happened?’
Even she couldn’t understand her own words as she blurted out, ‘Boys … poison … life support … Darren.’
‘Tell me where to find you? I’ll be there.’
‘The Alex … west entrance … God …’
The line went dead and Jo howled so loud that a passing dog walker tapped the window and mouthed, ‘You OK?’ Jo ignored them.
Five minutes later, Bob wrenched open the passenger door, threw himself in and embraced her with the strength of a bear. Jo looked up and saw his car not so much parked but abandoned between two communal bins just down the road.
‘I’m so sorry about earlier. Tell me what’s going on,’ he whispered. She couldn’t get the words out so he said, ‘Take your time.’
It took a full two minutes before Jo could compose herself enough to utter a comprehensible sentence. ‘It’s the boys. They’re in there with machines keeping them alive. They say it’s food poisoning.’
‘Please. Tell me everything from the start. And slowly.’
Between her tears, she started from being woken up by the school’s call and finished with seeing the boys hooked up to more contraptions than she’d ever seen in her life. ‘They’re saying it’s food poisoning but it’s not, Bob. They’ve got to them.’
Bob squeezed her tighter. ‘You don’t know that. These things happen you know. Kids get ill, doctors fix them and they carry on like nothing’s happened. You’ll see.’
Jo broke his grip and glared at him. ‘Really? Two brothers, whose mum and everyone connected with her are targeted by God knows who, just happen to fall victim of “food poisoning”, and you say it just happens?’
‘How would anyone have got to them? At the same time? It’s probably something they ate, like the doctors said.’
Jo shook him off. ‘I thought you of all people would understand. Just go back to the nick and sort the other shit out. Find out about this Evans bloke and who attacked Scotty.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’ve no idea, but I know what I’m not going to do. Sit on my fat arse and wait for the loves of my life to die through apathy.’ She reached across Bob and opened his door. ‘Go on, get out.’ She shoved him. ‘And get a message to Darren.’
He stood on the pavement, then stuck his head back in. ‘You really shouldn’t be driving you know.’
‘Is that so?’ she said, then started the engine and accelerated down the hill.
44
Bob was right. She was still over the limit which, added to the red lights she was jumping in her panic to get to the school, made this journey like a game of Russian roulette. However, despite her fuzzy brain, a plan started to form.
She checked the clock on her dashboard. 4.30 p.m. Had it really been only two hours since she’d woken from her daytime binge to have her world explode around her? She hoped that, despite school finishing over an hour ago, Mrs Holmes and enough of the staff would still be there for her to do what she needed.
Ten minutes later she dumped her car in a disabled bay and headed straight for the front door. Locked. She ran around the perimeter trying every door, without success. Then she glimpsed a meeting going on in the small hall she’d frequented on countless parents’ evenings. A dozen adults looked ridiculous, perched on chairs made for under-elevens. Governors, she presumed. She banged on the window and the heads turned, some looking indignant, others terrified. She kept banging. After a few seconds, the headteacher stood up, came to the window and pointed to a door to Jo’s right.
She glanced over and reached it before Mrs Holmes did. The head only had the door open an inch when Jo barged in. ‘What happened to my boys?’
Mrs Holmes turned round and muttered an apology to the others. ‘Come with me, Mrs Howe.’ The headteacher led the way to her office where she pointed to a chair. ‘Please, have a seat.’
‘I’ll stand. Now what the hell happened?’
Mrs Holmes sniffed the air then sat behind her desk. ‘As I said on the phone, I was told it was food poisoning. That seems the most likely explanation. How are they?’
‘Dying. How were they poisoned?’
‘I’m so sorry. The paramedics assumed it was something in their lunch.’
A thought that should have flashed much earlier sparked in Jo. ‘Where are their lunchboxes? Maybe we can get anything left tested.’
‘I’m not sure. I presume in their bags. Lunchtime was finished by the time they fell ill.’
‘Didn’t you give them to the paramedics for the hospital?’
‘No, they didn’t ask.’
‘Jesus. Well find them and get them preserved for forensics.’
Mrs Holmes went to leave the office when Jo called her back. ‘Get someone to do it for you. I want to see the CCTV.’
The headteacher stopped in her tracks, suddenly subservient. She picked up her desk phone and instructed the person on the other end to find the bags and boxes and bring them to her. ‘I’m not sure how seeing the CCTV will help,’ she said to Jo.
‘I’m the police officer here. Just bring it up on your screen and talk me through the lunchtime routines.’
Mrs Holmes obeyed once more, tapping on the keyboard as she spoke. ‘The children put their lunchboxes on a trolley in the classroom when they arrive in the morning. At lunchtime, the midday meal supervisors take the trolleys to the hall and the children retrieve their boxes then sit down to eat. Afterwards, they put the boxes back on the trolley and it’s taken back to their class. That way, if they are elsewhere in the school before or after lunch, they don’t have to carry them around nor return to the classroom.’
‘The boxes are unattended for at least some of the morning then?’
‘Well, yes I suppose so, but the school is very secure so it’s not really a risk.’
Jo agreed. It certainly seemed that people couldn’t just wander in or out without being checked.
‘Where are the CCTV cameras?’
‘We’ve got quite good coverage. The system was updated a year or so ago. It’s in all the communal areas, everywhere really, apart from the classrooms themselves and the toilets and changing rooms obviously.’
Jo struggled to understand why the classrooms weren’t covered, but that was for another time.
‘Right, I want to see the cameras that cover the outside of both Ciaran and Liam’s classrooms during the morning, and the lunch hall when they were eating.’
Jo grabbed a chair and sat next to Mrs Holmes so she could see for herself. Then she had a thought. ‘Actually, to save time, find when the classrooms were empty but the boxes were in there. Then we can look at the lunchtime footage.’
‘We had a whole school assembly today so that’s probably the first place to start.’ Mrs Holmes navigated the playback with surprising dexterity and homed in on the outside of both Ciaran’s and Liam’s classrooms. She allowed it to play out in 1.5 speed, from when the children left each room in single file to when they returned. No one had entered the rooms in that time.
‘What about external doors?’
Mrs Holmes sighed. ‘We can look but I promise you, it would only be staff with access by this time of the day.’
‘Play it,’ said Jo.
Again, it showed nothing and no one to raise Jo’s suspicions.
‘Were the classrooms occupied up until playtime?’ said Jo.
Mrs Holmes changed screens and checked the timetable. ‘Yes, both classes were in their rooms.’
‘Right, go to playtime then.’
With a flick of the mouse, the timestamp moved forward to 10.30 a.m. and the footage played again. ‘The children will have left via the external doors,’ said Mrs Holmes, before Jo asked why no one had left through the one they were watching.
The corridors were practically deserted other than a few members of staff wandering along. Then, at 10.34 a.m. outside Ciaran’s class, a man appeared to be about to walk past but then checked his step, looked behind and darted in.
‘Stop. Play that back. Freeze it there. Who’s that?’ said Jo.
‘That’s Mr O’Leary. He’s a casual speech and language assistant.’
‘What does that even mean?’
‘He comes in occasionally to help the speech and language therapist. He’s only been with us a fortnight or so, but I don’t know why he’s going in there. They have their own room.’
Jo sobered up instantly. She was on to something. They watched, one eye on the footage, one on the timer. Ninety seconds later and Mr O’Leary was back out, as furtively as he’d entered. ‘Follow him,’ demanded Jo.
Mrs Holmes clicked from camera to camera as the SALT assistant moved out of shot of each. At 10.37 a.m., he again paused outside a classroom, glanced around and darted in.
‘Liam’s class?’ said Jo.
Mrs Holmes nodded solemnly.
This time it was sixty seconds and O’Leary was back out, scurrying down the corridor.
‘I want his file, photo, address, references, the whole nine yards,’ said Jo. ‘And I want to see a copy of his Disclosure and Barring Service certificate.’ At that last point, Mrs Holmes flinched. ‘He has got a DBS?’
‘It’s not come through yet.’
‘What? So why’s he even in here?’
‘He’s supposed to be supervised by one of the speech therapists until he’s cleared. I’ve no idea what he’s doing wandering around on his own.’
‘I do, Mrs Holmes. Not as a mother but as a police officer, I’m telling you to get me everything you have on this man. You might just have employed a child killer.’
The switch from frantic mother to steely detective came as naturally to Jo as breathing. She was on a mission now and, other than the occasional flash of anguish demonstrated by her checking her phone for missed calls or messages, nothing was going to throw her off the scent.
In contrast, Mrs Holmes was in pieces – but Jo really didn’t have the time, energy or inclination to reassure her. Without her though, the task of identifying who this mysterious staff member really was would be nigh on impossible.
O’Leary’s personnel file, such as it was, was laid out on the desk in front of them.
‘Are you telling me you’ve heard nothing back on these two reference requests? Also, you’ve accepted what was, in all likelihood, a fake passport, and as he was the only applicant for this job you had a cosy chat rather than a formal interview?’
Mrs Holmes wept. ‘You make it sound like we were negligent.’ Jo raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s not unusual to get just one applicant these days and we’d lose the funding if we didn’t appoint. He should have been supervised at all times until the checks came back though.’
Jo swallowed back the rant. ‘How you did or did not appoint him is for others to answer and for later. Now, if we have any hope of saving Ciaran and Liam’s lives we have to focus on finding out who he really is and where we might find him, so I suggest you pull yourself together and help me do that.’ Mrs Holmes nodded.
Jo slid the application form across the table and with the other hand opened her phone. She found Bob’s number and tapped call. She thought it was going to ring out when he finally answered. ‘Ma’am?’
‘I need you to run someone through PNC for me.’
‘Why? What are you up to?’
‘Trying to ID the person who poisoned the boys.’ She lowered her voice, turning away from the headteacher. ‘Please help me out here.’ She read from the application form and waited.
‘No trace. Why do you …’
‘Can you do a voters register check on this address?’ She read out the Portslade house and road O’Leary had said he lived at.
‘No trace again.’
Jo pictured the road, and something occurred to her. ‘What number does that road go up to?’
‘Jo, you really need to tell me what’s going on.’
‘What number Bob?’
‘Forty-four.’
‘Not forty-eight then?’
‘Nope.’
‘Right, listen. I’m looking into a man who’s hoodwinked the school into giving him a job. He just happened to sneak into Ciaran and Liam’s classrooms when no one was in there this morning.’
‘And?’
‘And he had the opportunity to tamper with their lunchboxes. I need to find out who he is.’
Jo could almost hear Bob’s eyes lift to the ceiling. ‘I’m not being funny but …’
‘Oh, just drop it Bob. If you’re not going to help, I’ll do it myself.’ She tapped the red button and slammed the handset on the desk. It buzzed almost immediately and seeing it was Bob, she rejected the call and pushed the phone away. ‘Listen to me,’ she said to Mrs Holmes. ‘I need you to think. What else can you tell me about this man? Any car he uses? Friends? Anything he talks about that might give us a clue as to who he really is?’
‘I’m so sorry, I don’t really know much about the support staff. You see I’m so busy …’
‘Who will know? Every school has its busybody.’
