Endangering Innocents Read Online Free Page A

whether Madeline enjoyed school or hated it. She was, as she seemed to most events, indifferent. On another plane.
    And that could be harder to deal with than the naughtiest or most trying infant. By the second term most of the children had settled in and enjoyed their colouring, their stories, their playtimes. Most of the children.
    She watched Madeline Wiltshaw colouring in her Easter picture and felt, as she invariably did, that the child needed more encouragement than the others. Victoria had achieved a First in her degree and had been highly commended in her teaching practice. They hadsaid she had a natural talent with young children.
She
could be the one to gently draw the child out of her shell. She had tried to speak to the child’s mother - and met with a brittle, hostile response. She knew nothing about Madeline’s father.
    She slipped behind her. “That is a lovely picture, Madeline,” she said with all the enthusiasm she could muster over yet another bunny and a duck. “Lovely. Your mummy is going to be so pleased. The red over the purple is so pretty. Like a dress.”
    The child turned and stared at her with a frozen look. Vicky stepped back as though she’d been slapped. It would not do to cuddle this cold, silent little girl with the straight bobbed hair who always looked as though she was in another world. “Maddy,” she said softly.
    The child selected another felt tipped pen from the pack and bent back over her picture. Vicky felt an air of desperation. She watched Madeline fumble to slot the pen back into the plastic sleeve. “Here,” she said. “Let me help.” She touched the little girl’s arm and felt her jerk away. “Maddy,” she said again, desperate for some response. “It’s OK.”
    She put her hand on the little girl’s arm and felt her flinch. She felt she
must
build a bridge between herself and this child. “Maddy,” she said, “who are you going to give your beautiful picture to?”
    The child fixed her with another hard stare. But deep behind the cold black eyes was the tiniest spark of light.
    “To the magic man,” she whispered.
    And with all her teacher training Victoria could find no response.
     
    3 pm
     
    They were sitting outside the single-storey red brick building, still in the squad car. Joanna was trying to persuade Korpanski to do the talking. “Go on. You’re more at home in these places than I am, Mike.”
    “Oh?”
    “Well - you’ve got kids. I haven’t been inside a Primary School since …” A long ago memory of the alphabet spread around the walls,
A
a is for Apple. B b is for Bear
…
    Joanna closed her eyes and laughed. “I don’t think I’ve been inside a primary school since I was eleven years old and I moved up to big school.”
    “I bet you were a right little devil at eleven too.”
    “I was not.” She laughed. “I was the serious one. The worker, always wanting to be the best. The fastest, the quickest, the cleverest. And look where it landed me.”
    “You’ve done well enough,” Mike said grudgingly.
    “Come on,” she said. “Enough reminiscing. Let’s go talk to the headmistress.”
    Since Dunblane, schools - and in particular primary schools - were kept locked. Since Wolverhampton their playgrounds were fenced off too. Joanna pressed the buzzer, they announced who they were and the door opened. A woman was walking towards them in dark trousers and a generous sized orange sweater.
    “Hello,” she said. “I’m Sally Tomkinson, the headmistress here. And you are?”
    “Detective Inspector Joanna Piercy and DS Mike Korpanski.” It wasn’t how Joanna remembered headmistresses. The very title evoked tweeds and greying hair; clumpy, sensible shoes.
    They followed Ms Tomkinson across the playground and into her office.
    She shut the door deliberately behind them. “I hope this isn’t a wasted journey,” she began.
    Joanna cut in. “I hope it is a wasted journey.” She settled into one of the chairs. Korpanski took up