The Seventh Victim by Michael Wood EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Authors: Michael Wood
- Language: English
- Genre: Serial Killers
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Wednesday, 7 February 1996 – 3:30pm
The school bell hadn’t finished ringing before the doors were thrown
open and a crowd of excitable children fled the building. The parents who
had been patiently waiting, chatting among themselves in hushed tones,
were suddenly assailed by a barrage of noise as the youngsters saw them
and charged.
‘Mum, Mr Price wants to see you first thing tomorrow morning. Sally
Peterson said I hit her at lunchtime but I didn’t.’
‘Mum, I didn’t eat all my sandwiches because Dad put beetroot on
them. He knows I hate beetroot.’
‘Mum, can I go around to Martin’s for tea?’
Standing in the doorway of the 1950s redbrick building, Sam
Blackstock waited silently, looking for his mother. He stood on tiptoes,
looking over the heads of the other children. She usually waited by the gate
but, today, she wasn’t there. He scanned around – maybe she was talking to
another of the mothers – but he couldn’t see her anywhere.
‘Mr Appleby, I can’t find my mum,’ Sam said to his teacher.
‘Don’t worry, it’s only just turned half past. She’ll be here soon.’
‘Mr Appleby,’ a call came from behind him. ‘Ruby’s had an accident
again. She won’t come out of the toilets.’
He almost swore but managed to bite his tongue. ‘Shouldn’t Mrs Pratt
see to her? I can hardly go into the Girls’ toilets.’
There was a ripple of childish laughter from dawdling children.
‘Mrs Pratt went home at lunchtime with her trouble again.’
‘Right,’ he said, blowing out his cheeks. ‘Sam, if your mum doesn’t turn
up soon, go and wait in the office for her.’ A flustered Mr Appleby made
his way back into the school, leaving Sam on the steps, alone, looking
hopelessly for his mother.
3:35pm
Teresa Blackstock looked at her watch. She was late. She was very late. She
always made sure she was at the school gates no later than 3:25. When the
appointment came through for the job interview, she knew it would be close
getting to the school on time to collect her seven-year-old son, but she was
convinced she would make it. She should have arranged for someone to
pick him up, just in case. Alice would have taken him back to hers. She
only lived around the corner. Why hadn’t she asked Alice?
Sitting on the bus, stuck in traffic, drumming her fingers hard on her
bag, chewing the inside of her mouth in frustration, she silently begged and
pleaded to any god who would listen to make the traffic move quicker. She
kept looking at the time on her watch. Surely, that wasn’t another minute
gone by already.
Sam was a sensitive boy. He had withdrawn into himself since his dad
died. He clung to Teresa, rarely going out to play with his friends in case he
came home to find her gone, or worse. She had promised him that she
would always be there for him; he had nothing to worry about. Now, the
thought of her special little man standing alone in a rapidly emptying school
playground filled her with horror. She could picture his pale face, eyes wide
and wet with tears as he realised he had lost another parent.
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