Page 206 of Depraved Boys

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Term ended, and all the students left for the Easter break. Some stayed behind, like Cormac, who had lived in foster care before the academy. We also stayed a few extra days to catch the headmistress, who seemed to be avoiding us. I guessed it was because she didn’t want to explain why she hadn’t offered the academy as a place for Prakash to stay while he was awaiting trial.

One day, Leopold charmed her receptionist into letting us wait for her in the staff common room, a vast, modern space with walls that smelled of stale coffee and was covered in notice boards and drawers down one side. Along the back were laptop stations, presumably for those members of staff who didn’t have their own computers.

Opposite the drawers was a worktop with a built-in sink and cupboards that reminded me of the set up in the scholars’ common room. Apparently, Mrs. Benazir only reserved the snazzy vending machines for paying customers.

We sat in a row of cushioned seats facing the door and waited.

“Not even old Benazir would let one of her students languish in a detention center,” muttered Leopold.

I chewed my lip. “The police would have informed her of the developments. She probably doesn’t care.”

The door opened, and Mrs. Benazir stepped into the room. She closed her eyes and let out a long breath through her nostrils. “What do you three want?”

“Why did the police send Prakash to a juvenile detention center?” I pulled myself to my feet. “Why wasn’t he allowed to stay here?

She pinched the bridge of her nose and strode across the room, her tweed suit rustling with each step. “Without a deputy head, I’m being pulled in all directions.”

I bristled at the unsubtle jibe about my getting Miss Claymore fired. While the former deputy headmistress had taken on the majority of Mrs. Benazir’s work, she had also blown off steam by assaulting Sebastian in his bedroom.

Holding back a retort, I clamped my lips together and exhaled a hot breath through my nostrils. Prakash was the priority, not petty arguments.

Mrs. Benazir pulled a mug from the cupboard and helped herself to the coffee stewing in the machine. She walked to the only leather armchair in the room, one of those plush recliners with its own remote control, and sat.

“He’s innocent.” I followed after her. “And if you’re worried about him coming into contact with Ashley, she isn’t even a student.”

Her head snapped up. “Are you saying that students should be free to assault the domestic staff?”

“Of course not,” I snapped. “But the real attacker is still on the grounds where he or she can hurt their next victim. I’ve even got footage that shows the bruises on their fists.”

She raised her palm as though she was stopping traffic. “That’s a matter for the police.”

I swallowed hard, holding back a bellyful of bile. Plausible deniability. That’s what she wanted. If she was ignorant of the attacker and he struck again, she could blame the police for not catching the right person.

“It’s Bruce Wilmington,” I blurted. “And I’ve already passed on the evidence to a lawyer, who will give it to the police.”

The headmistress stiffened. “The captain of the football team would—”

“Ashley was sleeping with him and the Riley twins. They assaulted and humiliated her last term in front of everyone looking out of the common room windows, but she refused to report it to the police.”

She lowered her coffee mug and finally made eye contact. “Why would he attack her again?”

“Ashley used her job as a maid to enter people’s rooms and rifle through their possessions. She probably blackmailed him.”

Leopold rubbed the back of his neck. “Mother will be shocked to discover you gave a girl with a grudge against the school free access to the entire campus. She tampered with Willow’s medication, making her feel tired and nauseous for weeks.”

“I ended up in the hospital.” I let my gaze bore into hers, hoping to convey the message that she couldn’t trust Ashley’s claims about Prakash. “The toxicology report showed that I had ingested antidepressants and beta-blockers, neither of which I’d ever been prescribed.”

Her brows drew together as though she had come to a realization. Was the woman finally believing in Prakash’s innocense—

Realization hit me like a thunderbolt. Mrs. Benazir had fainted in her office, just as I had collapsed on Leopold in the cottage. What if Ashley had also poisoned Mrs. Benazir with the same drugs?

The headmistress pursed her lips. “I’ll discuss the matter with the Board of Governors.”

“But—”

“You will not hurry me,” the older woman shot out of her seat and walked to the door. “Mr. Kashaayah will either remain in custody or in alternative accommodations until the board approves his return.”