The Role Model: A shocking psychological thriller with several twists Page 8

  I was going to become a policewoman.

  The deciding factor in my decision was that I knew it was a stable career and one which would mean I could provide for my child, both at the time and many years into the future. There weren’t many start-up costs involved to get into it, unlike many other professions that would have required me to study for expensive qualifications that only loans could have paid for. The shift work would mean I would have to rely on babysitters more often than I would have liked, and I was going to see some things at crime scenes that I would probably never be able to forget, but as a mother, I had a job to do, and that job was to provide a good living for my daughter.

  And so it has proved.

  It hasn’t been easy being a single mother all these years while balancing changing rotas and irregular sleep patterns. Still, I have managed it and, most importantly, been able to bring Chloe up without leaving her wanting for much other than more time with me. She’s been on holidays in nice hotels with big pools, she gets spoiled rotten with all her presents at Christmas time, and her bedroom was always decorated how she wanted it and filled with all the things a young girl could wish for, which is mainly dolls and makeup accessories.

  I don’t regret becoming a policewoman one bit because I know that this is the job that has provided a good life for Chloe and me, or at least, I hadn’t regretted it until today.

  Now, I am starting to have second thoughts.

  I stare out of the window at the house we have just parked outside of, and while I don’t know who is inside it, the terrible feeling in my stomach tells me this won’t be good. The fact that a police car is already parked outside it only makes me feel worse.

  ‘Back in a sec,’ the officer behind the wheel of the minivan says as he gets out and slams the door shut.

  I watch him walk up the driveway of the house as my fellow officers in the back of the van discuss what this might all be about. But I don’t engage in any speculation, instead keeping my eyes on the driver, who has now knocked on the front door and is waiting for it to be answered.

  It’s another officer who opens it, and I recognise him.

  ‘Smithy’s in there,’ I say, and everybody seated around me turns and looks towards the house.

  ‘It can’t be anything exciting if they’ve put him on it,’ says a voice from the back of the van and everybody laughs. Everybody except me. I still have that horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach though I’m not sure why.

  We all continue to watch the doorway, and I catch a glimpse of another officer standing behind Smithy in the hallway of the house. Still, none of us in this van are any the wiser until we see the driver take a piece of paper from the second officer and make his way back to us.

  As he climbs back in behind the wheel, the questions start.

  ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘What’s Smithy getting in the way of now?’

  ‘Is anybody going to tell us what the hell is going on?’

  The driver starts the engine, and it seems like he is going to ignore every single query until he turns around and passes the piece of paper to the female officer sitting behind him.

  ‘A lad’s gone missing. Seventeen. Didn’t come back from a party on Saturday night. Gaffer wants us to go to his college and ask around to see if anyone knows anything.’

  Now I know why I felt sick when we pulled up outside this house. My intuition sensed that this was something to do with what happened over the weekend, and now it has just been proven. This is Rupert’s home. His parents must be in there now, worried and wondering what has happened to their son. They’ll hope that the police can find him today, while he hasn’t been missing long. But I know how that hope is going to be extinguished very soon, and I force myself to look away from the house quickly in case I catch a glimpse of the anxious mother or father sitting inside.

  The piece of paper continues to be passed around, and it’s getting closer to me now in the middle row.

  ‘Which college?’ someone asks the driver as he puts us into motion, and we pull away from the house.

  ‘Higher Green,’ comes the reply as the officer beside me looks at the paper before handing it to me.

  I don’t want to do it, but I have no choice. Looking down, I see Rupert’s face staring back at me.

  ‘Isn’t that where your daughter goes?’ asks Becky, the colleague sitting behind me as she gives me a nudge on the shoulder.

  ‘Yeah, it is,’ I reply, though I only glance back briefly in the hope that doing so will mean she doesn’t ask me any more questions. But no such luck.

  ‘Do you think she knows him?’

  I turn around and look at Becky, trying to figure out what to say. In the end, I play dumb and shrug my shoulders.

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ I reply. Then I pass the piece of paper on quickly, so I no longer have to be reminded of that face. But that doesn’t do much for my racing heart as I sit here wedged in amongst my fellow officers who are all studying that same photo as we make our way towards the sixth form college up the road.

  I’m struggling to stay calm, and I know I won’t be the only one.

  Chloe will feel the same way when she sees us arriving at her college.

  16

  CHLOE

  It’s been a tough morning at college. That’s because I have already overheard a few people mentioning Rupert’s name in the common room. I should have followed Mum’s advice and gone outside during breaks, but the weather looked grim, so I decided against it. Unfortunately, that meant I was around to hear all the gossiping and rumours that have started surrounding the teenager who hasn’t turned up here today.

  ‘He’s obviously still hungover and pulled a sickie. I wish I’d done the same,’ said Lloyd, a guy I have never spoken to before but recognise as one of Rupert’s friends from the football team.

  ‘But he didn’t go home,’ replied Ed, another one of the missing man’s acquaintances. ‘Apparently, his mum and dad have called the police.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I saw something on Facebook.’

  ‘Maybe he just got lucky.’

  That last comment came from another boy, one I didn’t recognise at all.

  ‘He might have gone back to someone’s house. Probably still in their bed now.’

  ‘He might have done, you know. Jammy git.’

  That was Lloyd again, but that was all I heard before the three guys walked away across the common room, meaning I could no longer hear what they were saying about Rupert.

  ‘I don’t remember seeing him at the park,’ Zara had said a few minutes later when she had come to join me on one of the large blue sofas that were positioned all around this room designed to allow the pupils to relax in between classes. ‘But there were lots of us there, I suppose.’

  I say nothing and pretend to be busy scrolling through Instagram.

  ‘Then again, I didn’t see you there either,’ Zara says, and I feel a jolt of terror run right through me.

  ‘What?’ I ask, looking up from my phone.

  ‘I was just saying I didn’t see Rupert at the park, but I didn’t see you there either. Did you two sneak off together? Is that why you stood me up?’

  I study Zara’s face and try to figure out how the hell she could know that I was with Rupert, when she bursts out laughing.

  ‘Only messing! As if you could get with him,’ she says, hitting me playfully on the arm as I feel the air returning to my lungs.

  ‘Cheeky bitch,’ I reply, trying my best to laugh at her joke even though my nerves are still jangling.

  ‘You were too busy being sick all over yourself to pull a guy like him,’ Zara goes on, and while it is annoying, I’m just relieved that she has no idea how close she actually was to the truth right then.

  ‘Who was sick?’

  I look up and see Sarah, one of our friends who couldn’t make it to the party because her mum wouldn’t allow it.

  ‘Oh my god. Have you not heard? Chloe ha
d to go home early because she was sick!’

  Zara really does find my mum’s fictitious story hilarious. Maybe I should have insisted on it having a different punchline.

  ‘No way! Are you okay?’ Sarah asks as she takes a seat beside me.

  ‘I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache.’

  ‘And a ruined dress!’ Zara adds.

  ‘Oh no. It sounds like I missed a big night,’ Sarah says, shaking her head. ‘My mum’s such a bitch for not letting me go.’

  ‘Aren’t all mums?’ Zara asks before she and Sarah laugh, which I have to join in on, even though I don’t mean it.

  ‘Speaking of mums, what’s yours doing here?’ Zara suddenly says, and I look up to where she is pointing to see the police officers entering the common room. As if that wasn’t scary enough, Zara is right. Mum is amongst them, third in line, wearing her black and white uniform and looking a lot different to how she looked when I left the house a few hours ago.

  ‘What the hell?’ I say, letting my friends know that this is just as surprising to me as it is to them.

  ‘What do you think is going on?’ Sarah asks, but before any of us have a chance to speculate, we see Mr Richards, the Head of Higher Green Sixth Form, walk in and raise his hands in the air.

  ‘I need everybody’s attention,’ he calls out to the busy room of teenagers who all stop what they are doing and turn to look in his direction. At this point, those who hadn’t noticed the police officers entering the room now see them. But the noise in the common room only increases as everybody starts speculating about why they are here.

  ‘Settle down. This is very important,’ Mr Richards cries, and while it takes a minute or so to get everybody quiet, a hush gradually falls across the crowded room.

  ‘Thank you,’ the Head says, no doubt relieved that he was able to get his students to quieten down without needing one of the police officers to do it for him.

  I notice Mum looking around the room trying to spot me, and I wonder if she will, considering that I am sitting all the way over here in the back corner. But then she eventually sees me, and we lock eyes, although I quickly lower mine because looking at her is making me more nervous than I already am.

  ‘Now I don’t want anybody to worry, and I’m sure everything’s going to be alright, but it would seem that Rupert Hall did not return home on Saturday night and his parents are trying to find out where he is. Has anybody here seen him today?’

  I avoid looking at Mum again and instead lower my eyes to the carpet.

  ‘I believe there was a party that evening which some of you attended. Rupert was there too. Is that right?’

  Silence falls across the common room again before somebody has the courage to speak up.

  ‘Yeah, he was at the party.’

  Everyone turns and looks at Lloyd, who immediately flushes red at all the attention.

  ‘Okay, did anybody see him leave?’ Mr Richards asks.

  I hold my breath as I wait for an answer from somebody. But there is none.

  ‘Or does anybody know where he went afterwards?’ the Head tries again.

  ‘We all went to the park, but I didn’t see him there.’

  That answer came from Kelly, a girl in my form.

  ‘Which park was that?’ asks the male officer standing just behind Mr Richards.

  ‘Bishop’s Park,’ Kelly replies, clearly a little nervous now that she is talking to a policeman.

  ‘Is there anywhere else he could have got to after the party?’ the officer asks. ‘Anybody remember seeing him either at that park or anywhere else?’

  Several students look around at each other, and I catch another glimpse of Mum looking over at me, but nobody comes back with another response, and Mr Richards turns to the police officers as if to say that’s the best he can do.

  ‘Thank you for your help,’ the policeman says, and he and his colleagues are just about to start filtering out of the room when Lloyd speaks up again.

  ‘Do you think something bad has happened to him?’

  The men and women in the uniforms stop walking and turn back to the room of teenagers. I notice that Mum looks very nervous now, and some of the students in here might put that down to her being a little self-conscious standing in front of such a large crowd. But I know the truth.

  She is nervous because we are the reason this is happening.

  ‘I don’t think we have anything to worry about,’ the male officer who spoke earlier says. ‘I’m sure he’s fine. But we would appreciate it if you could let us know if you do see or hear from him at all today. Thank you.’

  With that, the officers finally leave, and I watch Mum disappear with them out through the doorway and into the corridor beyond. Almost immediately, there is a buzz of activity around the common room as everybody starts talking about what has just happened.

  ‘That was weird,’ Sarah says, and I nod my head because she won’t get any argument from me there. ‘Do you think Rupert’s okay?’

  ‘I don’t know, but it’s not a good sign if the police are involved,’ Zara muses.

  ‘I’m sure it’s fine,’ I say, figuring I better contribute something to the conversation otherwise it might seem strange to my friends.

  ‘I hope so,’ Sarah replies, shaking her head.

  ‘By the way, your mum looks like a badass in her uniform,’ Zara says to me and Sarah laughs before agreeing.

  My best friend has a point. Mum did look a little intimidating as she stood there and looked at us all. But it wasn’t just her uniform that made her appear powerful. It was her eyes too. It was the way she looked at me.

  The non-verbal communication told me I had to stay strong and not breathe a single word to anybody about what we did this weekend.

  17

  HEATHER

  It’s a relief to leave my daughter’s college behind, but I doubt I will find much respite when we reach our next destination. My colleagues and I are now on our way to the park where several attendees at Saturday’s party reportedly went after they had been turfed out of the house. It’s not believed that Rupert was among them, and I know for a fact that he wasn’t, but we are going to go anyway as we attempt to try and retrace the footsteps of the missing young man.

  It was clear from our time in the common room of Higher Green Sixth Form that nobody in there knows what happened to Rupert. Most of the questions that were asked were met with silence, and while I am sure there is plenty of speculation being bandied about in there right now, it’s evident that nobody really knows what happened to him.

  Apart from my daughter and me.

  I saw the fear on Chloe’s face when she clocked my appearance alongside several other police officers, and her heart must have been in her mouth as she tried to figure out what it possibly meant for her. It would no doubt have been a similar reaction to the one I had when I realised that I was sitting outside the home of Rupert’s parents, and I feel awful that she would have gone through that same bout of panic, stress and shock. I wish I could speak with her now to make sure she is okay, but I cannot do that.

  But maybe I will get a chance when we get to the park.

  I look ahead through the van’s windscreen and see Bishop’s Park come into view up ahead. All I can think is thank God we’re not at the park ten minutes from here.

  The park where Rupert lies buried.

  The driver brings his vehicle to a stop, and I step out onto the tarmac of the car park with my fellow officers before we wait for further instruction. When it comes, it’s clear we are here on nothing more than what we call a “fishing expedition”, which means we are hoping to get lucky and find a clue, but we aren’t expecting much. All we are told to do is have a walk around the large park and see if we can find anything that might suggest Rupert was here recently. Basically, we have no idea where he is or what might have happened to him, and this is the best we’ve got.

  I follow the other officers out of the car park and onto the grass before we all fan out and l
ook busy while pretending like this isn’t the big waste of time that we know it is. Of course, every officer around me would love to be the one who found something that might lead to solving the mystery of where Rupert is. It’s just that they know the chances of that are slim.

  When somebody is missing, that means they’re pretty hard to find.

  I continue across the grass in the direction of the trees just behind a small playground that I recognise from the times I used to bring Chloe here as a child. But it’s not just happy memories that are tied up here. I also came here with Tim a few times. He would push Chloe on the swings and chase her around the see-saw, and I would smile whilst filming it all on my mobile phone to look back on at a later date.

  But those videos are long gone now.

  As I reach the trees, I take a quick look over my shoulder to ensure that none of the other police officers are nearby before taking out my phone and checking if there are any messages from Chloe.

  There are none, but that doesn’t mean she is okay, so I decide to give her a quick call.

  It rings five times before I hang up. Either she hasn’t noticed me ringing, or she is ignoring my call. She’s probably still sitting in that common room with her friends, so I can understand why she might not want to answer. But I would have liked to hear her voice, and more importantly, I would have liked to reassure her that everything was okay.

  Instead, I make do with typing her a text message.

  Hope your day is okay. Can’t wait to see you tonight x

  I’m just about to press send when I hear a twig snap right behind me.

  My phone falls from my hand as I jump at the noise and turn around to see Becky standing right behind me.

  ‘Someone’s jumpy,’ she says with a smile as she watches me bend down to retrieve my phone from the leaf-littered ground.

  ‘Didn’t see you coming,’ I confess, wiping a bit of soil off my phone before shoving it back into my pocket without sending the message. I’ll do it later.

  ‘Who are you texting then?’ Becky asks with a mischievous grin. ‘Got a new fella?’