Plea Of The Damned 6: Forgive Me Dawson

Chapter One

Jack

Jack stood out the front of the groundsman’s shed, wishing he had a watch. Or some other way to tell the time. Marti had visited him every Saturday afternoon all throughout term. Without fail. Each time she’d told him she’d be back the next Saturday, at half past four. She’d said the same thing last week, but this was the first Saturday of her school holidays. School had ended for the year for her grade. Year ten had finished at the same time as year eleven and the year twelves had finished the previous week. Only years seven, eight and nine hadn’t finished. They didn’t go on holidays until early December.

He scanned the area, certain it had to be after half past four. She was never late. What if something had happened to her? No, surely it was just a case of her having forgotten it was the start of her school holidays when she’d spoken to him. Or the phrase had become automatic. Last Saturday she’d been excited about contacting another one of the kids he’d helped. They’d been in touch with her through the website she’d created. A smile fleetingly appeared and he slowly shook his head. He couldn’t believe she’d created the Jack Richards Fan Club. And had now managed to contact all those he’d helped. She hadn’t met up with any of them yet. Hadn’t had time since the website had only been active for a couple of weeks and she’d been busy with exams and the end of the school year. As had the rest of them.

Again he scanned the area. Nothing moved. The afternoon was still, the school grounds deserted. She had to be all right. A hand curled into a fist and he wanted to strike out at something at the frustration that arrowed through him. There wasn’t anyone he could ask. Not even that blasted bird was likely to tell him if something had happened to Marti. It had been hard not being able to talk to her when she visited. There were things he’d wanted to tell her. Such as when one of the others was likely to visit. They all visited him, at various times, just none as frequently or as regularly as Marti. She really wanted to meet one of them, but was worried about someone falsely claiming they knew him so they could set up a meeting with her.

Here I was thinking you were actually beginning to improve and instead I find you looking like you want to start a fight.

Jack turned towards the angel, somehow managing not to sigh heavily. Typical of his luck. Why couldn’t that blasted bird have turned up this morning? Or even a couple of hours earlier. Marti isn’t here. She said she’d be here this afternoon.

She’s no longer your concern. None of them are. There is another in need of your help.

Somehow he managed not to let his hands curl into fists again. It was close. The blasted bird always brought out the worst in him. He’d known he would receive no answers and yet he hadn’t been able to stop himself from saying what he was worried about. What is the kid’s name?

The angel met his gaze. Don’t change the subject. Do you understand? Marti, and the others you’ve helped, are no longer your concern.

What if they want to visit me?

That is up to them. Their choice. They are welcome to exercise their free will. What isn’t acceptable is you demanding answers as to their whereabouts or what they’re doing with their lives now.

Jack remained silent even though he wanted to disagree. What could it hurt for the blasted bird to answer a few questions?

Do you understand?

I heard you. He wasn’t about to say he understood when he certainly didn’t. Unless it was yet one more punishment. That wouldn’t surprise him at all.

The angel studied him. Yet I don’t think it has made a difference. You might have heard, but I feel you haven’t listened.

I heard and listened. Again he had to force himself to keep his hands still when he was tempted to curl them into fists. It didn’t matter what he did, the blasted bird always thought the worst of him.

Again the angel studied him. His name is Dawson.

And I guess you can’t tell me anything else about him. He’d probably let more sarcasm enter his tone than he should have, but the blasted bird knew exactly how to annoy him.

The angel smiled. The two of you actually have a lot in common.

He almost asked what it was they had in common, but doubted he’d receive an answer. The blasted bird had probably only given him the extra information because he’d said he wouldn’t give out any details. All he could hope was that Dawson didn’t have his tendency to screw things up.

I’m sure you’ll have a lot to talk about. With another smile, the angel vanished.

Jack took a step forward, tempted to call out to the angel. He’d been told even less than usual. How was he meant to recognise the kid he was meant to help? And when would he turn up? It had probably been deliberate. No wonder half the time he didn’t think the angel wanted the kids to have a chance.

Being told a name and that they had a lot in common wasn’t in the least bit useful. And having something in common didn’t sound good at all. There were a lot of things about himself he wouldn’t wish on anyone. Such as completely screwing up his life when his mother died and accidentally shooting Rose.

He tried to think of which student might be Dawson. There were three of them at the school. One of them in year seven and the other two in year eleven. The youngest one was shy and he didn’t know much about him. Of the other two, one was heavily into sports with a solid build and the other one kept to himself, was tall and slim and frequently carried a sketchpad around.

He scanned the area. There was no one. Not Marti and not Dawson. That blasted bird could have told him what had happened to Marti. She wouldn’t return to school for months. He couldn’t wait that long to find out what had happened to her. Or worse. Never find out at all. What if he asked Dawson to contact her through the website? Surely it couldn’t hurt to do that. And even