Page 62 of Revenge

“Mr. Carbuncle.”

Mr. Jenkins placed a hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure about this, Miss Hobson? You’re making a very serious accusation.”

Anger flared through my veins. This asshole stood in the back of the room saying nothing while the headmaster accused me of leaking information, but now, he came forward to protect Mr. Carbuncle? If I ever got the chance to expose him to the press, I would do it in the blink of an eye.

My lip curled, and I shot the thin man my most withering stare. “Have you forgotten the camera footage I showed you of Mr. Carbuncle letting a student into my room to search my things? If anyone’s the leak, it would be him.”

Mr. Jenkins flinched and shrank back toward the wall like a cornered rat.

Edward narrowed his eyes into the kind of expression that told me he wanted to see how far I would take this lie before he delivered a piece of information that would cut through my bullshit and prove my guilt. Of all the people in this room, he would know why I had felt the need to hurt others in my house. Until I’d returned to Mercia Academy, he had been the worst of the bullies. He’d even told me he couldn’t believe I had been so forgiving. I looked him squarely in the eye. If he had something to say, he could speak up now.

“Why don’t we ask Mr. Carbuncle if those accusations are true?” said Mr. Jenkins.

I whirled on him, clenching my fists. “Last term, when I was falsely imprisoned in a dank basement, you never once visited to ask if I’d really arranged Henry’s kidnapping. Why are you suddenly Mr. Carbuncle’s biggest defender?”

The housemaster dipped his head. “I have learned from my mistakes. He who does nothing is just as much a sinner as he who does evil.”

If two policemen hadn’t been in the room, I would have swung at the pious hypocrite.

“Where do we find this…” The first policeman glanced at his notebook. “Mr. Carbuncle?”

My lips curled into a snarl. That uniformed bastard had heard me say I was falsely imprisoned and didn’t even follow up with questions. I held my tongue. Right now, I was under suspicion for something that could be traced to me if they found my burner phone. If I distracted the topic of conversation from Mr. Carbuncle, they might return to thinking I was the leak.

“Follow me.” Mr. Jenkins led a procession of us out of his office, through the main teaching block and out of the double doors at the back.

We trampled after him through the dew-covered campus. The morning sun shone brighter than it had in months, melting the last vestiges of frost. A fresh breeze mingled with the faint scent of blossoms budding on the trees, but I couldn’t enjoy the pleasant atmosphere. Not when my heart pounded like it was about to burst.

I trailed at the end with Edward by my side, stiff as a tin soldier. He stared straight ahead as though the sight of me turned his stomach. “No matter what you say,” he whispered, “I know it was you.”

I shook my head. Anything I uttered now would fall on deaf ears.

“This morning’s article cleared your name,” he whispered. “That’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but then I clapped it shut. There was no way anyone could link the article about me when Mr. Frost had confessed his crimes to the Saturday Correspondent. Edward was probably throwing random accusations, hoping to catch me out. Hoping I would tear up and blurt out my reasons for leaking stories to the press. Giving him another little head shake, I kept my eyes on the headmaster’s clenching and unclenching fists. The man looked ready to strangle someone with his bare hands. I had to watch out for his temper. After a week of examination board inspectors on his back, I would bet he was looking for someone to blame.

Mr. Chaloner led us around the back of Elder House, to a building that reminded me of the gatehouses at the entrance of Mercia Academy. “This is Mr. Carbuncle’s lodge.”

“Is he usually in around this time of the day?” asked the taller policeman.

“He can be a little difficult to track down.” Mr. Jenkins made a nervous laugh in the back of his throat. “Mr. Carbuncle’s activities are far and wide.”

A DO NOT DISTURB sign hung on the door.

Mr. Jenkins rocked back and forth on his feet. “He’s probably restoring an antique and needs a bit of peace and quiet.”

“Or he needs privacy to send images to the newspapers,” I spat. “Don’t give him a chance to cover his tracks.”

The taller policeman knocked once, making me roll my eyes at his politeness. Then he tried the handle, which didn’t budge.

“Force the door open,” the headmaster snarled.

The policemen shared a glance as though wondering if they had permission to damage academy property.

“I’ll do it!” Mr. Chaloner reared back, raised his suited leg and drove his heel into the panel by the lock. The wood splintered, and the door swung inward.

Just as my mouth dropped open at the man’s prowess, a female shriek filled the air.

“Blimey,” shouted the policeman. “He’s got a schoolgirl in here!”