Chapter 10

It had started out as just a typical Blackwell day for David. He'd booked three students for parking illegally, one of the boarders for blasting music so loud it could be heard from the main building and then there had been an incident with two boys chasing each other around with lighters and spray deodorant. He'd had a stressful enough time for any ten people at home with Chloe before coming in and now his PTSD was kicking in- probably from the loud music and the makeshift flamethrowers- and he was hearing the gunshots again. His therapist had told him to ignore them when they happened to make them go away since that would remind his brain that they couldn't hurt him, but the headache they brought on instantly was impossible to ignore.

Sighing, he leaned against the wall and took off his security cap, rubbing furiously at his head. It was odd because there were only three shots. Usually there was a full-blown firefight raging on in his head. Sometimes there were hand grenades too. Just as he began to allow himself to think this was a sign of progress, a new sound registered. It was a scream like nothing he'd ever heard before. It sounded almost inhuman. But it wasn't in his head. He knew without a doubt that it was real and the voice sounded all-too familiar.

"Was that a scream?"

"Screw that! What was that before it?"

"Sounded like a gunshot!" David looked around to see a cluster of students gathering. His mind racing, he replaced his security cap and grabbed his radio to call for backup.

"This is Madsen! I need backup at the girls' bathroom! Shots fired! Possible casualties!" Luckily, there were two officers patrolling nearby. David knew the rest would be along shortly and so decided to plan accordingly. His choices weren't great. The two that had responded were some weedy guy who he knew wouldn't have the balls to head inside and a mentally slow one who would probably charge a gunman head-on as though he was looking to get shot. Still, he'd make good cannon fodder to cover David's approach as he closed the gap. That was an acceptable loss.

"What's the plan, sir?" the weedy one asked.

"You stay here and tell any other officers who arrive to keep the kids out!" With that, he pointed to the other officer. "You're with me! Be ready for anything!" Knowing he couldn't wait any longer, he barged the door open. He thought he'd prepared himself for anything, but when he took in the sight in front of him he realised how hopelessly optimistic that was. Nathan Prescott was on the ground, blood pouring from an open wound on his forehead and the gun lying right by him. Scanning to the side, he saw Chloe. Her hands were soaked with blood, but it wasn't hers. It belonged to the third person whose hand Chloe was holding. She was on the ground and lying worryingly still.

"Max? Max! Don't you do this! Don't you go out like this!"

"Cuff Nathan and make sure he doesn't go anywhere! Radio for someone to call the cops!" David ordered as he moved his way over to Chloe, who was clamping her hand over the wounds on Max's chest and applying pressure to try and stop the blood. She was too frantic to see what was right in front of her. David didn't even have to check for a pulse. He knew enough about bullets and gunshot wounds to work it out for himself. He walked over, taking off his cap and knelt down next to them, trying to keep his voice gentle.

"Chloe..."

"David!" Chloe looked up, her face a picture of shock. Perhaps it was her realising that they were no longer alone or the shock of seeing a man in the girls' bathroom. David didn't know and at that moment he didn't care. That wasn't the priority. "David, you have to help her! I can't lose her! Please! Call an ambulance or something!"

"It won't help, Chloe." As soon as David said it, the floodgates opened. Chloe became a sobbing mess. She knew. David had seen it before. She'd known and been trying desperately hard to deny it. Without even thinking, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. She clung to him desperately like the last port in a storm. Maybe, in that moment, he was.

"What's the play, boss?" The other officer had Nathan cuffed and flipped over onto his back to make sure he didn't suffocate. David looked over at him, unable to hide the regret in his eyes.

"It was already too late by the time we heard something." David told him. As he did, he noticed that Chloe was pressing something into his hand. She was still crying too hard to talk, but there was no missing that she was deliberately trying to hand him something. He looked down to discover that it was a journal. One glance, and he realised it quite obviously belonged to the other girl. Chloe had called her Max? He'd seen her around a few times, but why was she handing it to him? Knowing she wasn't up for answering that herself, he took it and opened it out, flipping through the pages. Most of it was just the standard stuff that he would expect to find in the diary of a teenage girl who wanted to be a photographer. But it was as he got to the last few pages that his blood ran cold. Scrawled notes ran across them, each one taking up a two-page spread. They were brief and had obviously been done in a rush, but they told him everything he needed to know.

'Rachel buried in junkyard!'

'Location in the darkroom!'

'Darkroom under Prescott barn!'

'Jefferson owns the Darkroom!'

'Jefferson owns Nathan!'

Mark Jefferson! Now it all made brutal, tragic sense as the pieces clicked together in David's head. This was the last part of the puzzle! He was so dumbstruck that he didn't even hear the sirens or the police officers storming into the room with guns drawn. They stood down quickly upon seeing the threat was neutralised and began radioing for an ambulance. That was when one of them caught sight of the diary.

"Sir, that book is probably Police evidence." He pulled out an evidence bag as he bent down to grab it, only for David to stop him.

"Oh, it's so much more than that." Quickly, he showed them the notes Max had written. Without hesitation, the police sergeant grabbed his radio.

"Dispatch, be advised: we have a possible lead on the Rachel Amber case. We need units to the Prescott Barn... Yes, the collapsing one outside of town. That's the only one there is! ... Copy that. We'll secure Blackwell with the help of Security and be up there as soon as possible."

"Once Blackwell's secured, I'll drop my stepdaughter home and meet you up there." David told them. "I'm a decorated veteran and this has just hurt my family. That was a big mistake."

"Okay, I'll let them know we're going to get ex-military presence on site and see if we can't get you a bullet vest or something." The cop nodded. David was glad he'd accepted it without argument, a breach of protocol as it probably was. That was one less argument he really didn't need now. With a heavy heart, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts until he found the one he was looking for.

"Joyce? Listen, I'm going to need you to get out of work and head home. I'm bringing Chloe back. Something's happened."