Free Nightshade: The Fourth Jack Nightingale Supernatural Thriller by Stephen Leather Page B

classrooms and it was only kids that he shot.’
    ‘I thought he shot the deputy headmaster.’
    ‘Yeah, he did. Over there.’ The policeman pointed to the playground. ‘The deputy came out, probably to ask him what he was doing on school property. McBride shot him. But from that point on it was only kids that he shot. That’s what I don’t get. You open the classroom door and what’s the first thing you see?’
    ‘The teacher,’ said Nightingale.
    ‘Exactly. The teacher, standing at the front of the class. But he didn’t shoot any of the teachers. It was kids he wanted to shoot.’
    Nightingale nodded thoughtfully. ‘But if he just wanted to kill kids, why did he move from classroom to classroom?’ It wasn’t so much a question as Nightingale trying to get his thoughts in line.
    ‘And he ended up in the gym,’ said the policeman. ‘And even there he didn’t shoot the teacher. He shot two kids. That’s when the armed police arrived and he killed himself.’
    ‘And he didn’t shoot at the cops?’
    ‘As soon as they arrived he turned his gun on himself. Blew his own head off. Probably best, because the way things are now a smart lawyer would have had him declared insane and sitting in some cushy hospital.’ Two pensioners wrapped in thick coats and headscarves were making their way down the street to the school. One of the ladies was holding a cellophane-wrapped bunch of flowers. The policeman straightened up and squared his shoulders. ‘Eight kids,’ he said quietly. ‘I hope he burns in Hell.’

18
    N ightingale was just getting back into his car when his phone rang. It was Robbie. ‘Hey, you wanted to talk to a cop on the McBride case?’
    ‘I’ve already spoken to one but he was less than forthcoming.’
    ‘What was his name?’
    ‘Stevenson. Colin Stevenson.’
    ‘Well, I’ve got a contact up there who says he’ll talk to you, off the record and on the QT. He says he’ll call you for a chat but all non-attributable.’
    ‘I’ve no problem with that. Who is he?’
    ‘DI by the name of Simpson. He’s the brother-in-law of a guy I know in Clubs and Vice. He’s a bit jumpy but says he’ll phone you if you want. He’s worked on the case from Day One.’
    ‘That’d be great, Robbie. But can I meet him? I’m up here, might as well strike while the iron’s hot.’
    ‘He says no to a meet. He’s happy enough to brief you on the phone but he’s a bit wary of a face to face, you being a private eye and all.’
    ‘I’ll happily bung him a few quid.’
    ‘Oh yeah, a bribe will swing it.’
    ‘I didn’t mean it that way, you daft bastard.’
    ‘Mate, the days of a cop accepting a drink are long gone. And I understand his reservations – I’d be the same if a private eye from up north wanted to pick my brains. These days you never know where that could end. So stop looking gift horses in the mouth and stay by the phone.’ Robbie ended the call.
    Nightingale lit a cigarette and he was halfway through it when his mobile rang. The caller was withholding his number. ‘Jack Nightingale?’
    ‘Yeah. Thanks for calling.’
    ‘Not sure there’s much I can tell you, but what do you need?’
    ‘Anything you can tell me about the McBride shootings would be helpful,’ said Nightingale.
    ‘You’re a PI, right?’
    ‘For my sins, yeah.’
    ‘Who’s the client?’
    Nightingale had expected the question and had already decided that honesty was the best policy. If Simpson did show Nightingale the file he deserved the truth. ‘McBride’s brother. Danny.’
    ‘I thought that might be it,’ said Simpson. ‘He’s been in and out of our station every other day since it happened. He thinks there’s some sort of conspiracy, right?’
    ‘He just wants to understand, that’s all. I think he’s looking for closure and for that he has to know what happened.’
    ‘We know what happened. His brother shot dead eight kids and a teacher. Then he topped himself. It’s as open and shut as it