Just Keep Breathing, GS Rhodes [best book club books for discussion TXT] 📗

her, one that only someone who had known Norman for many years would be able to answer.

“Do you think he’s capable of hurting other people?” Zoe asked.

Ms Kaye took a breath and locked eyes with DS Sanchez, she looked almost too nervous to speak. What was that? Was she afraid to speak against him, or was it something more? “I think he is capable of absolutely anything once he sets his mind to it,” she whispered. “Absolutely anything.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

DI Kidd headed out to the car at a run, taking Owen along with him for support. Owen seemed beyond thrilled to have been chosen, practically bouncing into the passenger seat. Kidd barely waited long enough for Owen to shut his door before he floored it and took off around the Kingston one-way system to make it to the school.

Bloody Joe Warrington, he thought. I thought I was going to have more time to track him down.

“This is brilliant,” DC Campbell said, absolutely buzzing. He was like a kid in a sweetshop. “We never work together, boss.”

“And there’s a bloody good reason for it,” Kidd grumbled. “But, you never know, I might need your help on this.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, if I’m right, and I really hope I’m not right this time around,” Kidd said, whizzing through an amber light at the crossing and swinging the car into the car park. “Nicholas Ayre is going to be in a heap of trouble when people see the news on Joe’s socials, assuming they’re looking at them of course.”

“Because Sarah’s dead?”

“Because she’s dead, because there were a bunch of his classmates already out for blood when she was only missing,” he said. “With Sarah being dead, Nicholls Ayre could end up being in deep shit when people find out.”

“And why is it our responsibility to stop that?” Owen asked. “Isn’t this just school drama?”

Kidd had the sudden urge to hit Owen, though he wasn’t wrong. The website stuff was definitely petty school drama, but a dead body and a pissed off and grieving student body with a large vendetta against whoever posted it, felt like something he needed to get involved in. Especially as he wanted to talk to the lad, and he needed to be conscious for that to happen.

“Just follow me, yeah?” Kidd said, turning off the car and undoing his seatbelt. He got out of the car and started towards the front doors as he had done the day before, purpose in every step. He needed to get to Nicholas before the rest of the student body did.

Ms Lu was behind the front desk once again, her face lighting up when DI Kidd walked in. “Good afternoon,” she said brightly. “We can’t seem to keep you away, can we?”

“Hello,” he said. “We’re actually looking for another one of your students.”

“Caleb Kaye?” she said, looking a little surprised. “I got your phone call earlier on, were you not told he’s not in?”

“Nope, not Caleb,” Kidd said. “We’re looking for Nicholas Ayre. I don’t suppose you know which class he would be in?”

“He’s not in classes right now,” Ms Lu said. “The students are on their lunch break, will be for the next,” she checked her watch, a sparkly little thing that dangled from her wrist. “Oh, thirty minutes or so.”

Kidd was too late. He knew he was too late. He’d been beaten up enough times on that playground to know that once the lunch bell rang, teachers weren’t likely to give a toss what you were doing or who was kicking the shit out of who.

“Fuck.”

“Language, Mr Kidd, we are in a school,” Ms Lu scolded, though it wasn’t really much of a scold as it was all done with a smile on her face.

“What do we do now?” Owen asked. “Wait?”

“We can’t wait,” Kidd said, agitated. If he didn’t get a confirmation of that alibi from Nicholas, DCI Weaver was going to call CPS and chances were Dexter was going to get charged for this and he didn’t want that to happen.

There was a crackling of static from somewhere in the office. A burly mixed-race man in a high-vis jacket with a bald head grabbed hold of it and grunted something indistinguishable into it. Kidd listened in, trying to pick up whatever was being said.

“Where?” the man grunted.

The crackle came through again. Kidd just managed to make out the words “fight” and “playing field.”

Jesus Christ, he thought, cursing his rotten luck that they hadn’t gotten here sooner, that Joe Warrington hadn’t held off for a little bit longer. Nicholas probably didn’t even know what was coming for him.

“Which playing field, Ms Lu?” There were the athletics track and the cricket field and he didn’t have time to look at both. Nicholas didn’t have time.

“DI Kidd, I can’t—”

“Ms Lu, I’d like to talk to Nicholas Ayre before he ends up eating through a straw. Which playing field?” Kidd watched as the man in the high vis jacket ran from the office and out into the corridor. He barrelled past the reception desk and out the front door. “Never mind. Owen, shift it!” Kidd barked, running out of the door and after the man in the high-vis jacket.

The man didn’t realise he was being followed until Kidd ended up jogging alongside him. He looked confused, possibly wondering if he had ended up in some kind of footrace.

“Detective Inspector Benjamin Kidd,” Kidd panted. “This is DC Owen Campbell. Don’t mind if we tag along, do you?”

The man shrugged as he ran, still looking confused. They rounded the corner and headed down towards the playing fields where the athletics track was, a great expanse of green where a cluster of students had gathered somewhere near the middle, white paint barely visible on the grass around them. That had to be what he was looking for.

The closer they got, the louder the chants of “Fight! Fight! Fight!” became. Kidd put on a turn of speed, bolting past the security guard and towards the crowd