"Coach Adamson, no," she said, keeping her voice steady and calm, even though she wanted to be sick with fear. "Please, don't do anything reckless now."

  She couldn’t face the thought of having him shoot himself in front of her. It would be extremely traumatic, not only for her, but for the whole school and the community.

  "I need to be free of this guilt," he said, staring at her. He sounded confused, almost in shock.

  "We can talk about that in a minute," May said calmly. "For now, please, put the gun down."

  "You don't understand," he said. "I have to be free. I don't want to live anymore! I don't want to be a monster!"

  "Don't do anything you'll regret!" May emphasized to him.

  She knew that it was always a risk when approaching a man with a gun. He could change his mind at any second and pull the trigger, before she had time to make the arrest. They still needed a confession from him, and to find out more information. He was only a suspect, and the guilt he was feeling might be from his past. There were many rational reasons why it was imperative for them to bring him in.

  "I didn't mean to do it. It was like I couldn't help myself," he stammered.

  "I’d like to hear more about that. We definitely need to talk about it. To discuss it," May said, talking even more calmly.

  She had to try and keep him talking, to keep him focused, to get him off the precipice of tension where he was wobbling.

  "Put the gun down, Coach Adamson. You can get the help you need," she urged.

  A tear fell down the man's cheek.

  "I'm so sorry," he said, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean for any of it to happen."

  He was sweating heavily and his skin looked pale, almost as if he had been ill for some time. His outdoor tan had all but disappeared, drowned in the terrified pallor.

  "Please, put the gun down," May said, fighting to hold her voice steady.

  "I can't change what I did," he protested. "I can't change the past."

  "None of us are able to do that," May said, trying to sound soothing, even though she didn't feel it inside. She thought that the guy was a violent bully and that he had serious blood on his hands. "You can get help. You don't have to do this."

  "I have ruined my life. I have ruined so many other lives," he said, staring at the gun as if it represented his only remaining solution.

  "Shooting yourself now is not the answer. We need to talk this through together now," May argued. She wanted to question him. She needed to know what had caused this man to go on a killing spree.

  "But my life is over anyway. There's no way I can go on," he said, taking a step toward her. Her eyes narrowed as she saw his finger tighten.

  "Maybe I should shoot you. Maybe I should shoot everyone. There's no point anymore."

  May's eyes widened.

  He was unpredictable, driven now by pure fear. May knew that he might shoot himself, but in his overwrought state, he could just as easily decide to turn the gun her way. In fact, with a shaking hand, he was doing just that, and now she was staring straight into the barrel.

  "Don't do anything that you'll regret," she said again. Gathering all her courage, she stepped forward. "You really don't want to shoot me," she said kindly. "It would hurt a lot, and I would start yelling, and it would make a terrible mess in your office."

  "I guess it would," he said, distracted by that thought.

  "And you'd only end up in more trouble," May pushed. "All we need to do now is talk about this and find out the facts."

  "Why do you keep saying I'll regret this?" he asked, agonized. "It's a sensible decision. My only one so far."

  "Please!" she repeated, trying not to sound too forceful or too threatening. "Just set the gun down and we can talk about this."

  Looking uncertain, he turned the barrel to face the wall. Now it was pointing at neither of them, and that was a huge improvement.

  With a flash of relief May heard the clatter of footsteps behind her. The other officers had arrived.

  Edwards and one of the other officers burst in the door and to May's utter relief, they had their guns drawn and were ready for him.

  "Put the gun down, sir. Lower your weapon immediately," Edwards called out in a steady but commanding voice.

  Their arrival gave Coach Adamson a shock. He glanced from one to the other, looking confused, and then hastily lowered his weapon.

  May felt a massive surge of relief. Her heart dropped back down to its normal place in her chest.

  Edwards quickly moved forward and removed the gun from Adamson's hand, while May got out the handcuffs. Never had she heard such a welcome sound as when they clamped shut around his wrists. That stand-off had been terrifying.

  "Thank you," she said to her colleagues, her voice hoarse. She looked at the coach, who was staring at them with a bewildered expression.

  "I didn't want it to happen," he said, staring at his hands. "It just happened," he repeated.

  "You can lower your weapons now," Edwards said, to his two colleagues. Then turning back to Adamson, he continued. "That's all for now, sir. The deputy will take it from here. You come along with us."

  "I guess I'm finished," he said, sounding completely lost.

  May reached over and took the gun from the floor, keeping her eyes fixed on its owner.

  "You really need to tell us everything you can. We need to make sense of it all."

  She hoped that she would be able to get a full confession out of him. Because this man, under his former grinning, tanned facade, was nothing more than an evil monster.

  As the police were escorting Coach Adamson downstairs, May's phone rang again.

  It was Owen.

  “I just got here,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  He still sounded grumpy, but not as much like a stranger as he had.

  “I’m okay. We’ve just arrested him,” she said.

  She hoped that they might be able to uncover more evidence that would allow them to put this case to rest for good. Adamson had kept a gun in his office filing cabinet on school premises, which was a felony, but it was not related to strangling young women to death. There was still a lot that she needed to prove regarding these crimes.

  Suddenly, May had an idea.

  "Owen, I’m going to have a quick look around his office. And while we’re both here, let’s seize his keys and search his car. There could be evidence there. Trace evidence, or some other links that might help to tie him to the crimes."

  May felt hopeful about the car.

  Getting into Coach Adamson's mind, she thought that if she had been him, that was where she would have kept her secrets. Close by and easily accessible, suiting his obsessive, criminal nature.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  May began a thorough search of Coach Adamson's office, carefully opening each drawer in that big filing cabinet, and looking in his desk drawers. She was hopeful to find any shred of evidence.

  But to her disappointment, the filing cabinet didn't hold a treasure trove of papers it was a depository for sporting equipment. Old footballs, shin guards, baseball caps, and a few lighter dumbbells. The gun must have been in there, which May thought was unusual, but there was nothing else noteworthy to be seen.

  How about the desk?

  Here, too, she was disappointed. Only a few pens and pencils, a blank notepad, an old calculator, and a few till slips for sporting items were there. There was no sign of any untoward communication with students, and not even so much as a wilted rose petal to link him with the bodies.

  Sighing, May left the office, locking it behind her, and headed downstairs. She walked down the corridor, where knots of students were staring curiously at her.

  The school environment felt unfamiliar to her. It had been a long time since she’d been in a school.

  She had never been a rebellious student and had spent most of her time buried in her books, encouraged by her mother to do better than Kerry and better than Lauren.

  "I want you to beat your sisters and get the best grades of all," Mrs. Moore had harangued her.

  Of course, she'd told Kerry and Lauren exactly the same thing, with the result that the sisters were endlessly pitted against each other in a competitive environment by their perfectionist, ex-schoolteacher mother.

  No wonder they'd ended up with issues, May thought sadly.

  She guessed even Kerry, the golden child and highest achiever, had suffered. Kerry didn’t need to feel jealous, ever. But May had been stunned to realize that, sometimes, she did.

  All the teachers were inside the staff room now. May guessed the meeting was in full swing, discussing and strategizing. The thought of what they were going through made her feel really bad that they had not yet concluded the case. It motivated her to work her hardest. This needed resolution. These teachers did not deserve this.

  As she walked past the small groups of students, May heard whispers, and conversations in hushed voices.

  Everyone knew something was up. Many of them must have seen Coach Adamson being taken away by the police. But, as she passed the students, she also picked up that they sounded confused and defensive of their coach.

  She guessed that was to be expected. A predator might only focus his attentions on a chosen few, while the others thought he was a blameless and wonderful teacher. But May knew already that it would make their job harder. Some people might speak in favor of Adamson’s character, and that meant the chain of evidence, and the testimony from the coach himself, would be even more important.

  With any luck, May hoped, she would have a full confession by the time the meeting concluded, but any additional testimony would back it up.

  Crime caused such ripples throughout a community. In a small town, she always felt that she, as a policewoman, experienced them more intensely.

  Coach Adamson had definitely seemed like a broken man. He'd been at rock bottom, ready to end his life - or at any rate, threatening to. The way she handled this questioning would be vital. They needed to know more about his movements during the night of the prom. She needed to get into his mind and find out why and how he’d done these things.

  Why the strangulation?

  Why the flowers?

  She didn't recall him giving any concrete facts. He’d been a fountain of self blame but no actual information had come out of his mouth during his diatribe.

  They would need a lot more than what he’d given so far to secure a conviction.

  She hoped that without the confession, their case would be close to watertight. But if they could get a confession, they could truly wipe this case clean.

  However, May was concerned that his planning was so meticulous that he could have thought ahead to implement a defense or an alibi somehow. A well-planned defense could always sway the jury.

  "I'm going to kill myself," he'd said, but that was hardly evidence, she thought, feeling frustrated.

  Plus, some people had what May thought of as rubber feet. They might hit rock bottom but they could bounce back from it at surprising speed.

  May was sure that many people close to the coach would want to believe that he was innocent. Strong, good looking P.E. coaches were influential figures and people looked up to them.

  And if there were still a lot of people who believed that he was a hero, despite all the evidence to the contrary, then she would have to work hard to get the evidence to prove his guilt.

  At least when they’d confronted him that morning, he’d committed minor crimes in front of witnesses, which even though it had been scary at the time, May felt very glad about. They had needed that.

  Coach Adamson had remained in hiding from his previous identity for eight years. If it hadn't been for May's observant nature and Kerry's FBI access, they would still not know who he had been. He was a master at covering his tracks and putting on a convincing front.

  They needed more!

  If they could get a full confession, they would be able to hold him accountable.

  May bit her lip as she walked to the school entrance, wishing that they had something to push him in that direction, either to use as evidence or else to pressure the coach in another way.

  And at that moment, she heard Owen calling to her loudly from the staff parking lot.

  He was standing by an ordinary looking car, similar to a lot of others that the teachers seemed to drive.

  "May! Come quick! I think I've seen something here!" he shouted.

  May rushed out of the school entrance, racing to the parking lot on legs that felt surprisingly tired after the adrenaline-fueled pursuit earlier. But now, determination gave her feet fresh wings.

  "What is it?" she called to Owen.

  She didn't know what Owen had seen, but if it was anything to do with Coach Adamson's guilt, then she was all ears. Plus, he was sounding more and more like himself again and she felt a flash of relief that they might be able to get back to being friends.

  "This is Coach Adamson's car," he called back. "I have confirmed it with the staff office. I haven't searched inside yet, but it looks to be unlocked, so we might not need the key. Anyway I peered through the window and this is weird, May! Weird!"

  "What is it?"

  May hurried closer.

  Owen was bent over the passenger window, gazing through the lightly tinted glass.

  "Can you see anything?" she asked.

  "Have a look," he said.

  May bent over and gazed along with him.

  She drew in a gasp.

  "Those? What are they?"

  Immediately, she saw a face she recognized on a printed page. Sadie's face was staring out from it.

  May's mouth felt dry. She couldn't believe it. Right here, right now, it seemed they had the evidence they needed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  May couldn’t believe that at this critical time, they might possibly have found something that could make this case watertight. Her heart was pounding with excitement as she quickly pulled on the gloves that Owen was handing to her, and scraped her hair back, trapping it under a head cover. If Adamson had been careless about leaving things in his car, that also meant the car could be a treasure trove of trace evidence. It would need to be forensically examined, but for now, May didn't want to delay the initial search.

  She grabbed the car door and yanked it open.

  There, on the passenger seat, was a folder labeled "Athletic Reports."

  So innocent looking, if it had not been for that corner of a page jutting out, and Sadie's distinctive photo being visible.

  "Son of a gun," May muttered.

  She grabbed the folder and opened it up, her heart thumping with excitement. This was not a folder of athletic reports.

  Owen hissed in a breath.

  "What was he up to?" he whispered incredulously.

  She saw at least a dozen photos of Sadie, printed out in full, glossy color. Each one must have been snapped by Coach Adamson, at different moments during the school day.

  May glanced at the photos, feeling horrified and angry.

  The first photo showed Sadie on the steps at school, talking to a group of friends. They were all laughing. In the next one that he'd taken, she was standing by her locker, chatting to another friend. In the next one, out on the track, she was jogging and smiling.

  In the next one, she was walking from her car to the school entrance.

  "He had her practically under surveillance," May murmured. "She didn't even know he was watching her!"

  “He's been spying on her. This is seriously strong evidence. He’ll go down for this,” Owen said with a tight voice. "This is just proof that he's been stalking Sadie all over town. Any jury would take one look at this and nail him. Nail him good."

  May flipped back through the folder.

  There were pictures of Alyssa. Her heart clenched as she saw the pretty girl in her cheerleader outfit, still smiling, still unaware that her life was in danger. Smiling at a point to the right of the camera, she was seemingly unaware that she was being photographed.

  May peered closely at the photo. "He was watching her all the time. That's how he gets away with it. He knows them, and he's charming."

  "This is creepy," Owen said. "She looks so happy. This is a school day, and he's watching her and taking these pics. At school! As a teacher."

  May let out a slow breath, her anger rising.

  "I'll call this in." May was almost relieved that they had the evidence, now. There was still a lot of work to do, but at least now, they were heading in the right direction.

  "He clearly recorded everything about them," Owen said. "He must have been obsessed with them."

  "That's what it takes," May said. "And at least now, we have some proof. This is the evidence we need to ensure that he is never going to hurt another girl again."

  She looked at the photos and shivered at the thought of a man like the coach stalking innocent girls.

  The coach was finished. He'd been caught and there was no way that he would escape this time. With this concrete evidence now providing the backbone of the case, May felt much more confident about the interview itself.

  And she was glad that they weren't going to rely on a confession alone.

  “Is there anything else we can use here?” she asked. This was exciting but it didn’t mean they should give up.

  “There’s a laptop in the trunk. We can take that in. Hopefully he’ll give us the sign-in code,” Owen said.

  Corroborating evidence on a laptop would be another huge win.

  Her heart was beating faster, now that she saw what they had. They could finally nail him.

  Perhaps, knowing that they were in possession of these photos might be enough to break him. May felt increasingly certain that this hard evidence would provide what was needed for Coach Adamson to crumble.

  Now, they just had to go and confront him with it.

  *

  Fifteen minutes later, May and Owen pulled up outside the Floral Ridge police department where Adamson had been taken. May had waited at the school until the forensic detectives had arrived to begin their examination of the car. She didn't want to leave it unattended for a moment. She hoped that the car would provide some trace evidence. A smear of blood, a filament of the petals from the flowers he had left on the scene. Something that could link him to the crimes beyond any reasonable doubt.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18