Hide and Seek (15 page)

CHAPTER 31

17:50pm

Peter snapped back to the present and found that he’d walked right through the Auckland Oval estate. He cursed himself at letting his mind wander so much; idly walking around Bilton as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He looked around him for signs of life, particularly any police presence, but the streets were quiet. The night had crept in stealthily and it was now dark. Peter walked under a streetlight which highlighted the diagonal streaks of rain. He realised that his breathing was remarkably calm, although his shins were aching from all the walking and running he’d done. He stopped for a moment at the corner of the junction to assess the best way of getting to the school. He decided to cross over and go through Oakfield, an estate comprising a maze of formerly council owned houses in a circle surrounding a large park in the middle. He followed the route in his mind like a ground level satellite navigation plan. He would cut diagonally through the estate to come out by Hyde Avenue, and then cross this main road to enter Low Grange estate again and head around towards the school. Peter crossed over the road and quickened his pace. Through the countless bay windows, people on sofas stretched like meerkats to watch him as he ran past.

Peter wondered why Celo would pick that particular
- fairly innocuous - incident over all the other things that Cas had been involved in. Maybe the school was simply chosen out of convenience - closed on a Sunday, it was another empty building in which Celo could rig up another murderous trap. What would it be this time? If it was like the others – and there seemed to be a clear pattern - then how would it relate to Cas slicing a chunk out of his leg? The words echoed in his mind, ‘slicing a chunk’. The anxious knot in his stomach - which had surprisingly eased over the last five minutes - tightened once again and he picked up his pace, breathing hard now.

Peter stopped short of coming out onto Hyde Avenue and looked around the corner, up and down the road.
It was moderately busy with the gentle hum of cars travelling up to Wolviston or down towards the high street. He could see no sign of police cars. It had been almost three hours since Colin had died at the flats. He had no idea whether the information had filtered through to the local news yet. He imagined news of this nature would spread like wildfire in a small town like Bilton. For all he knew, half the residents might have seen a newsflash about him; the police asking for the public to be vigilant. He thought back to the various eyes glancing up at him from their televisions as he ran through Oakfield estate. He thought back to Martin who had kindly given him a lift to the high street unaware that he was aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive. Maybe he’d now seen the news and was calling the police - his wife telling him loudly in the background that ‘you could have been killed.’ He looked out at the steady stream of traffic and realised that any one of the drivers or passengers could have heard a bulletin on local radio. Peter felt very alone and paranoid: he the prey, and everyone in the town a hunter. He leant up against the wall of the end terrace, dizzy and light-headed, face tilted to the sky, his eyes closed. He tried to breathe and block out the sounds around him which grew louder, swirling together in a nauseating cacophony. With a deep exhale he steadied himself.

‘Keep it together Pete. You’re going to cross this road. No one will see you.
And you’re going to get to the school and save Cas.’

He looked out onto the road again, feeling the ebbs of his panic attack dying down.
If there
had
been a newsflash … well, what could he do about it? He had to keep going.

Peter crossed the small grass verge, his feet sinking in the dampened muddy turf, and stood by the edge of the road. He waited for a break in the traffic and
raced across.

A
sigh of relief died in his throat as a police siren blared out from the road behind him. He froze, panic erupting throughout his body. Would running bring undue attention? He took a few steps forward and chanced a look over his shoulder. The police car flew down the middle of the road, as cars mounted the kerbs on either side to let it through. Peter watched it speed past him, the relief palpable. He walked away from the road and back into Low Grange Avenue.

A quick glance at the mobile phone showed it was 5:56pm. His heart was still beating heavily from the scare he
’d just had with the police car. And he’d have to remain cautious - at the end of this road he’d come out onto Low Grange about a hundred yards away from Beamish Road which led to the school - but, just ahead of the turn off, were the Low Grange shops where he had saved Cheryl. It could still be crawling with police.

He couldn’t believe that it
had only been two hours since he saved Cheryl, the time in-between had seemed like a lifetime.

He reached the end of Chapman Street. He looked up and down the street
. Ominously quiet. On his side of Low Grange Avenue there was a row of trees which offered him a little cover and he proceeded to walk down the road as close to the grass verge as he could. He kept his eyes fixed on the hedge on the corner of the turn leading around to the shops as he came closer to Beamish Road. A car door slammed shut behind him and he jumped, instinctively leaning in towards a tree as if he thought it would render him invisible. It didn’t, as he turned and looked back up the street he could see a man walking from his car looking directly at him and eyeing him curiously. Peter’s heart dropped. The knot in his stomach wound tighter. What if he recognised him? The man gave him a final look with a frown and then began to fiddle with the keys in his hands before opening the front door and entering the house. Peter breathed a sigh of relief. He looked down towards Low Grange shops and upon seeing no activity he crossed over onto Beamish Road and started running towards the school.

CHAPTER 32

18:01pm

The high fence around the school loomed forebodingly. Peter couldn’t tell whether it went around the entire perimeter, but he imagined it would. How would he get over it? It had sheer steel posts with curled, spiked tops pointing outwards.

He reached the end of the road and from this vantage point he could see the entire school grounds beyond the fence. It was a relatively small school which looked even tinier sat in the centre of the vast grounds surrounding it. The school itself comprised two L
-shaped buildings - three storeys tall and arranged to make a square with entry and exits points at the southeast and northwest corners. Through the darkness Peter could just make out that the fence did indeed surround the entire perimeter. To his right was a lane through the middle of long grass verges which bordered the grounds on one side and provided a small lawn for the back of a row of terraced houses on the other side. He noticed a tree about nine houses down which spruced up right next to the fence. It was his only way in.

There were no low branches for him to grab onto and climb but he noticed that someone had hammered a number of nails into the bark
to form a mini staircase. Kids probably used this as their entry point when they wanted to play in the school grounds when it was closed. He felt very exposed again as he looked around. Only a few of the houses behind him had back fences high enough to obscure him. The rest had four foot fences and their rear windows looked directly out onto the school. If anyone walked into any of their back rooms they’d surely spot him. The residents might not be too bothered about seeing kids climbing the tree and jumping into the school grounds but they’d think differently of a man in his 30s. He decided he had no time to worry about that. He had to get going.

The tree leaned away from him so he was able to grab onto it for support whilst he curled his toes like a vulture to get a foothold on the nails.
He clambered up the tree quickly to reach the first level of branches which hung over the fence into the grounds. He walked along a thick branch which bowed slightly but was strong enough to hold his weight. He made the small jump over the fence easily but didn’t make the most graceful of landings as he hit the ground heavily and rolled forward through the grass. He got up and brushed himself down, no damage done. Of all the running and jumping he’d done today, that was probably the least treacherous of them all. He glanced quickly back towards the houses – nothing there to alert him - so he continued down the sloping hill and trudged across the wet grass.

As he approached the school a security light flicked on
, momentarily blinding him. He froze, like an escaped convict caught in a prison spotlight, and then ran forward and pushed himself up against the wall. He waited until the security light went out and inched along the wall, as if on a ledge, and reached the southeast corner. He was agitated to find a padlocked metal gate drawn across the fence. None of this security had been here when he was a kid. He imagined at the northwest corner he’d find the same obstruction. He obviously couldn’t climb the walls of the school and the only thing he could think of was a caged off yard round the back where the lads would play football at break times. The children had used to refer to it as the ‘bear pit’ but he couldn’t recall what childhood logic had made them use that term. He imagined it was some reference to wrestling which they were all avid fans of in the '80s.

He ran around the corner and, sticking as closely to the walls as possible to avoid setting off any more security lights
. When he got to the rear of the school, he found the gate to the cage was fastened with another padlock. He grabbed it and rattled it angrily. Locked tight. He’d need a key.

A key!
He checked his pockets for the keys which Celo had planted for him in Colin’s dismembered hand and inspected them. Three keys on the ring and he’d used two of them, one for the flats and one for the shops on Low Grange. Peter tried them all anyway and found that none of them fitted. He stepped back and surveyed the caged yard but the fence was higher than he remembered. It reared up at least ten feet tall. There were bars in a crisscross on the flipside of the gate which would make it easier to climb
out
from the bear pit, but offered no help at getting in.

He wondered if he was missing something. Celo had made it relatively easy for him to gain access to the flats, the shops and Chaser’s Toy Store. He wondered if Celo had done that to ease him gently into his sick game and now they
’d passed the half way point it was going to get a lot tougher. He walked around the caged yard trying to find an entry point. The sports hall was the block directly next to the yard where he imagined Cas would be held in one of Celo’s garish traps. He looked at his mobile phone again and saw that it was 6:09pm, just over twenty minutes to go.

Peter passed the caged yard and
came to the sports hall. Metal guttering climbed up the corner of the wall to the roof. He noticed it was held to the wall with large brackets which would make handy footholds for him to climb up so he could get onto the balcony roof which hung out in front of the sports hall. There was also dark brown paint slapped haphazardly in streaks up and down the guttering and, on closer inspection, he found that it was burglar grease.

‘Excellent,’ he said sar
castically.

Peter took a deep breath and ran at the wall and jumped up to reach the highest bracket with his hands. He clasped both his hands tightly around the pipe as if he was throttling someone’s neck. The burglar grease was slimy in his hands and he didn’t feel like he had the strongest grip
, but he wedged his feet behind the guttering and climbed up. Halfway up the wall he put one foot onto the balcony roof and swung away from the pipe and clumsily rounded the corner onto the roof. He inspected his hands. They were covered with the tar-like substance from the pipe. He walked over to the wall and rubbed his hands against it. Some of the grease came off but there was a film of mucky brown residue remaining. He tried a few rubs on his trousers and decided that was the best he could do.

From his vantage point he could see that the entire green that used to
sit in the middle of the buildings had been paved over. When they were children the green had housed a huge weeping willow which all the kids used to sit under when it was summertime. He felt a slight sadness as he recalled those lazy school days, sitting under the willow tree, cradling Laura in his arms. He looked out past the bear pit to a desolate dry clay field which separated the school from the old mill factory where Cas’ father used to work – sitting in darkness, equally desolate.

The field had once been full of six foot high vibrant yellow corn.
He recalled playing football and miss hit the ball over the fence and into the corn field. Laura volunteered to go with him and help him retrieve it. Back then it was only a waist high fence separating the school grounds from the field. As they both climbed over it the bell had rung to signal the end of break time. Everyone went inside whilst he and Laura searched the field but ended up kissing each other amongst the swaying corn.

Peter sat down
and dangled his legs over the edge of the hanging balcony. He turned and lowered himself down before dropping the short distance to the ground. He was in the courtyard at the front of the sports hall. He walked over to the boys changing room and tried the door and was surprised to find it open.

He crept down the
short corridor and through another open door into the changing rooms. Even in the dark he could see that they hadn’t changed much. It was a tiled room with lino flooring and benches around all the walls. The showers were behind him and to his left and he glanced around the corner to see if anyone was there. It was empty. He continued through the changing room, down another small corridor which led into the sports hall. As he opened the door he saw a row of light switches and flicked them on to illuminate the empty hall in neon light. He headed towards the storage cupboard, his shoes squeaking on the plastic flooring. The door was slightly ajar and he pushed it open cautiously. The light spilled across the floor and spread up to the far wall which housed a row of four tall lockers and a wooden shelving unit littered with various sporting paraphernalia. The door would only open part way - something behind it was blocking it from going any further.

Peter
crept into the storage room and peered behind the door. Another locker had been moved to prevent the door from opening fully, so the far end of the storage room was shrouded in darkness. He searched for a light switch. But found nothing. He went deeper into the darkness, his hands out in front of him, feeling his way forward.

He was about to whisper for Cas when something moved to his left. The shape came lunging towards him. Panic
surged through him. In a split second he saw the glint of something metallic bearing down on him and raised his left arm instinctively to protect himself. The bar thudded into his forearm with ferocious force which shuddered through his arm. The impact sent him crashing into the lockers before he slumped to the ground. He looked up as the attacker approached him. Peter felt dizzy, the world starting to blur. He could just see the outline of a man, with the bar raised ready to swing again.

‘Cas?’ Peter groggily enquired.

The man stopped and lowered the bar.

Peter closed his eyes and drifted off into unconsciousness.