‘Now.’ She thumped the end of the pen against the paper. ‘Where were we all when Ruth was killed?’
Painstakingly they pieced together the whereabouts of the Night School students and teachers the night of the summer ball, making a list of who was accounted for and who was missing. Then they did the same thing for the night of Jo’s death. Who had they actually seen at the precise time the gate was opened and she was stabbed? And then they did it again with last night’s incident. Nicole diagrammed out a list of names in small rectangular squares, drawing lines – straight and unerring – to those whose locations were not known.
Before long, Allie realised Nicole was looking for a pattern. Yes, someone from outside may have got in as well, but someone inside the school had to give them the key, open a lock, release the gate. Help them. And that’s what they were looking for. A person consistently missing whenever anything happened.
When they’d finished, for a moment they both stared at the page in solemn silence.
With a fingertip, Allie traced the dark lines leading to a handful of boxes, each one holding a familiar name. Each line as slender as the strands of trust she’d built for these people.
But everything built can be destroyed.
‘It’s one of them, then,’ she said.
Nicole nodded, her dark eyes serious. ‘It’s one of them.’
Allie stared at the incriminating paper in front of them then raised her gaze to meet Nicole’s.
‘What do we do now?’
FOURTEEN
I
t was nearly nine by the time Nicole left Allie’s room that morning, and by then they had a plan. It was basic but it was better than nothing.
The first step was to put together a team to help them.
They’d agreed that everyone chosen to be part of the plan had to be approved by both of them but, in the end, it wasn’t hard to decide who to include.
Now they just had to convince them all to help.
Allie dressed quickly and hurried out. The hallways were quiet; it was Saturday – most students would be playing games or lazing around chatting. Some would be out in the cold kicking a football around. A low rumble of voices and laughter tumbled through the open common-room door.
For a fleeting, melancholy moment, Allie missed normal student life. It would be so good to be someone else for a while.
She broke into a jog, speeding down the wide hallway to the library.
Walking through the library door was like entering a different school. A hospital hush hung over the room. Thick Persian rugs absorbed sound below while, above, high ceilings made small noises disappear. The effect was as if the room was wrapped in cotton wool.
The acrid scent of smoke from last summer’s fire had long since dissipated; now the room smelled only of old leather books, nineteenth-century ink and wood polish.
All the bookcases looked identical but she knew that many of those at the front of the room were replicas, made precisely like the original shelves that towered into the dimness above her head. Even the new rolling ladders were identical to the originals.
In fact, every bit of physical damage Nathaniel had done to the building had been repaired; Allie knew she should find that comforting. But right now nothing made her feel any better.
When she noticed a slim, bespectacled man in Eloise’s usual seat, her stomach tightened. It seemed so callous just to replace her as if she was already found guilty. As if she was disposable.
As she walked up to the desk, she recognised him as one of the lower-form English teachers, and she fought to quell her temper. It wasn’t his fault. Probably.
Still, she had to challenge him. She wanted to see if he would lie to her face.
‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘Do you know where Eloise is?’
He set down the cards he’d been filing – the look on his face told her that, while she might not remember his name, he knew precisely who she was.
‘I’m afraid she’s in meetings,’ he said with impeccable politeness. ‘All weekend.’
The combination of his lies and good manners set her nerves on edge. He must know precisely where Eloise was and what she was going through but he didn’t care at all.
What a wanker.
‘Awesome,’ she said coldly. ‘I was afraid something bad might have happened to her.’
Without waiting for his reaction she spun on her heel and hurried to a dim section at the edge of the room. Rachel was right where she’d known she’d be. Glasses on the end of her nose, long hair twisted into a messy knot at the base of her neck and held in place with a pencil, one end of which pointed up like an antenna.
She’d been surprised by the ease with which Nicole accepted her request to include Rachel. Since she wasn’t in Night School, she’d expected some objections.
‘Including her will break most of The Rules,’ Allie had pointed out, but Nicole only shrugged.
‘We’ll be breaking so many of The Rules I don’t think it matters. If we get caught we’ll all be expelled anyway.’