---

 
“Did you catch all that?” I ask, as I sit up from where I have been laying inside a large van parked outside the prison. The inside of the vehicle is lined with surveillance equipment. A live feed of the cell is on a screen, being watched by Robert Turner and Tom Millward. Another police officer, Lieutenant Scudder, is up front in the driver’s position.

I am wearing a burka, provided my Mr Turner to help protect my identity. It’s not the most glamorous of female attire, but it serves its purpose. I am covered from head to toe in black fabric. The only gap is a piece of black netting for my eyes.

While I have no problem with helping the authorities, I’m not keen on too many people knowing my identity. Not being able to see what I look like is a major benefit.

“Yes, the microphone is quite sensitive. Good job Alice,” Mr Turner tells me.

“I think she is telling me the truth about Donald,” I say, “I get the impression she has been brainwashed from birth with extreme racism. Alison is very intelligent, possibly Mensa level. I get the impression that she questions her beliefs, but they are so ingrained that she is struggling to fight them. I don’t believe she was aiming to miss. Her hatred overcame her rational thinking and she reacted stupidly.”

“I don’t know if you picked it up, but she was trembling when she gave that last piece of information,” I continue, “I think she genuinely fears for her safety, especially in prison. This cult sounds resourceful. Do you think it’s possible that she’s in danger?”

“It’s possible,” Mr Turner admits, “We have arrested several people from this organisation before. One was stabbed to death in state prison after giving evidence against one of their superiors. The threat is genuine. I have already arranged for Alison to be in solitary confinement for the duration. I have also arranged for all of her guards to be Afro-Caribbean in origin, just to be safe.”

“Let’s go for a drive near West Wallaby Street,” I suggest, “I can take a quick look inside and see if there is any sign of Donald.”

The two men agree and pass the instructions on to the driver. Once we park up in a lay-by close to the street, I take a wander with my remote vision. I locate number 54 and look inside. The house is very minimalist in decoration. It looks lived in, but only just. There is an adult male sitting watching late night television in the front of the house. It’s just past one in the morning.

There is nobody else on this floor. I try to look underneath the building, but there is no basement and all I can see under the floorboards is soil. I decide to look upstairs. I first look into the master bedroom and see a woman asleep in the bed.

There are two bedrooms and a bathroom on this floor. The bathroom is the next room I look into and it’s empty. I head towards the second bedroom. As I am about to enter through the door, I notice a bolt has been fitted to the outside, effectively turning the room into a prison cell. It’s currently bolted. A chill goes down my spine.

I enter the room. A young black girl is asleep on the bed. The room is warm and she is sleeping on top of the bed covers. The girl is in a short yellow baby-doll style lace-edged nightdress. She is face down and all I can see is a mass of curls on her head. Hanging from a closet door is a yellow summer dress. It’s very pretty, feminine, and suited for a large five-year-old.

Something about the picture in front of me doesn’t seem right. I look around the room. Apart from the bed, the only other furniture is a chair and an empty bucket in the corner. With the bolt on the door, I can guess why that is there. The walls are bare. There is a distinct lack of personal items. There isn’t a bedside table, lamp or clock in the room. There aren’t even any curtains on the window. There is a full moon and the light is shining in, illuminating the room in a soft glow.

The child is not sleeping with any soft toys, something I would have expected one apparently this young. There are no toys anywhere to be seen. I poke my head into the closet. There are two other dresses and a small pile of underwear. Not exactly, what you could call a complete wardrobe. There are barely enough clothes to last a week.

The youngster is black while the adults are white. It’s obviously not their kid, at least by birth. It’s possibly an adopted child, but somehow I don’t think that likely. This doesn’t strike me as a happy family scene. I decide to take a closer look at the sleeping girl.

As I get closer, the young girl rolls over onto her back. I am now starting to doubt my original opinion of the child’s gender. Seeing the individual’s face, there’s certainly a resemblance to Donald, but I can’t be sure. Donald has a crew cut in the photo, and this person has long curly hair. Looking closely at the top of the head, I think I can make out the canvas of a wig. If it is a wig, it is well glued on. This person looks like Donald’s younger sister. However, I know he is an only child from the details on the police file. Donald is ten, while this looks like a five or six year old.

I look at the sleeping child’s crotch to determine physical gender. The panty is padded, obscuring any bulges present. I know from my own experience that a tight pair of panties, and the correct positioning of the genitalia, especially at this age, can result in an almost flat appearance.

I decide to risk a closer look. I project myself fully into the room, but make myself almost invisible. I make only my hands solid and carefully lift up the nightdress. Making sure the child is still asleep I pull on the elastic of the panties and peek inside. This child is physically male. Removing the fabric also allows me to see something else previously hidden. A small scar is present at the top of his right leg. This matches the description of distinguishing marks in the file. I am now certain that this is Donald. I carefully put the boy’s clothes back into position and return to my body in the van.

“I found Donald. He is in the back bedroom of number 54,” I state. “There are two adults present, a male in the front room downstairs, watching telly, and a woman in the front bedroom. The rear bedroom is locked by a bolt on the outside. Donald has been disguised as a young girl. I didn’t recognise him at first. I suspect they think he is less likely to run away if he’s dressed as a five-year-old girl. There is a wig glued to his head.”

“You’re absolutely sure it’s him?” Tom Millward asks.

“Yes. I wasn’t sure if I was looking at a girl or boy, so I peeked inside his panties. Not only could I then see he was a boy, but I could also see the hernia scar mentioned in the file as a distinguishing mark,” I explain.

Tom nods then calls for backup on his radio, asking them to approach silently and meet up at our current location before raiding the property. I volunteer to unlock the doors from the inside to make entering easier. I can also help protect Donald should something go wrong.

The raid takes place at two in the morning. Both adults are now asleep, one in a chair downstairs, and the other in bed. I quietly unlock the doors and armed SWAT officers silently take positions pointing guns at the sleeping targets. One of the officers wakes Donald, and carries him out of the house. As soon as he is safely in a car, the officers wake and arrest the captors. Everything goes according to plan.

I finally make it to bed at three in the morning. I am going to be tired tomorrow; correction, later today; but it’s worth it.

My father wakes me up with a cup of coffee at half past eight. As soon as I see the clock, I start to panic, as I only have twenty minutes to be in school.

“Don’t worry,” my father reassures me, “after last night you deserve a rest, if needed you can call in sick. However, I did think of a quicker solution. Don’t bother getting dressed, just put on your dressing gown and get in the car. I can take you to Gloria’s and you can project yourself into school, it will be a lot quicker than getting ready. You can down some cereal bars on the way.”

I think about it and agree. I quickly go use the bathroom then grab my clothes and bag. Still dressed in my pyjamas and gown I get into the car and we drive over to Gloria’s house. I lay the clothes on a chair. I will change into them and go into school later. I make myself comfortable then project myself into the room. Grabbing my bag, my father gives me a lift to the school gates.

I arrive in my homeroom as the bell rings. I have just made it in time.

“Did I see you drive past in pyjamas a few minutes ago?” Susan asks, quietly. I thought I saw her on her bike.

I smile at her and nod. I then whisper back, “Gloria’s.” She chuckles to herself shaking her head. She doesn’t know about my visit to Alison yet, so isn’t aware of the reason for my tardiness.

Lessons proceed as normal for the first part of the day. At break time, I take Susan to one side and explain about Alison and Donald. Susan is shocked at the turn of events, and concerned for my safety. I point out that I am dead, and Alice doesn’t exist. Nobody will come after me.

History class turns out to be interesting for all the wrong reasons. We have to do a group assignment researching events related to the Second World War. The groups are picked out of a hat. Somehow I get the impression the hat is rigged. I end up with Stephanie, Freddy and Thomas. I’m not looking forward to working with two of my old enemies. I could of course be paranoid, they are after all David’s enemies, not Jenny’s.

Thomas is not an issue. In fact, I get on with him very well. We had always been on friendly terms when I was David. I used to sit next to him when getting changed for gym class, and on several occasions he has intervened when I was being taunted. Working with Stephanie and Freddie will be interesting.

The students have been split into five groups, and several of the groups go to the library to do research. Mrs Hargreaves is keeping a close eye on us, as we start to discuss how to tackle the task. I am not sure if it really is a set up, but she is certainly concerned given the history between my family and these students.

I leave it to Thomas to take the lead of the group and get the discussion going. I add in some thoughts on which reference books to check, assuming our library stocks them. In fact, I know they do, as I had been the one to catalogue them when they came in. I was given that job while excluded from gym class.

Stephanie is looking at me slightly worried. Freddy is being quiet, something unusual for him. He normally has a wisecrack or two. I guess they are slightly uneasy with me, given I am supposedly a cousin of David. I note that they have been avoiding both Susan and me since my apparent death.

There is a definite tension in the air during the discussions. Mrs Hargreaves’ attention is drawn away by another group of students. I decide to use the opportunity to clear the air between Stephanie, Freddy and myself.

“Look you two, there is no need to be so nervous, I’m not going to bite your heads off,” I state to Stephanie and Freddy. “I am fully aware of the history between you and my cousin. My adoption means that Daphne and I would have been living as sisters. She was concerned that her transgenderism could affect me, and we had an in-depth discussion before she died.”

I let them process that for a few seconds before continuing. “As far as I am concerned, all past problems are history and I am willing to start over with a clean slate.”

Tears start to roll down Stephanie’s face. She closes her eyes and hangs her head low, crying. I reach round and put my hand on her shoulder.

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

“I was worried you might resent me for causing David’s death,” Stephanie sobs.

“You’re not responsible for David’s death, Alison is the one with blood on her hands,” I reply.

“It was my video footage that started all the problems. I knew what Alison was like. I shouldn’t have exposed him to that.” Stephanie is clearly upset and suffering from survivors’ guilt.

“It’s true that David was upset by the video,” I comment, “but it was inevitable that her secret would be exposed sooner or later. You simply speeded up the processes. She would have transitioned over summer break and attended next year as a girl, possibly at a different school if required. For the final few weeks, she was able to live fully as a girl, except for in school. It was the happiest I have ever seen her.”

Freddy adds, “Jennifer’s right, you’re not to blame, it was Alison that caused David’s death.” Turning to me he then explains, “Alison was the one who organised the attack on David. She tried to get me involved, but having already been on the receiving end of David’s wrath, I didn’t want any part of it. I am still being taunted about the video he made in revenge. I was also there when he exploded against Dwain. He might have looked weak, but he was a lot quicker than he appeared, and could be quite formidable when angered. Besides, it was an obvious trap. David was far too smart to put himself in such a position by accident.”

I chuckle and Freddy and Stephanie look at me puzzled. “It was a trap, and it seems you were the only one to realise. I guess David’s ‘Thicky’ nickname for you isn’t entirely accurate. David wanted an excuse for leaving school, but didn’t want to look like he gave in to the hate campaign trying to force him out. He hoped that provoking a confrontation would give him a valid reason to leave.”

“It backfired,” I say solemnly. “Nobody realised what Alison was capable of until too late. She is almost pure evil, raised from birth to be a bigoted hateful killing machine. Did you know there is a warrant out for Alison’s mother? She is wanted in connection with a kidnapping of a young black boy. They wanted to swap the boy for Alison. Luckily the boy has been found and rescued.”

The full details of the case aren’t in the public domain, however I am safe in revealing this as most of the information has already been in the news. There has been a warrant for Mrs Little since she disappeared after her daughter’s arrest. The kidnapping of Donald has been headline news for the last few days with public appeals on TV by the mother for the return of her son. The only bit of extra information I have told them is that the two cases are connected, and this will be on the news tonight anyway.

My murder had been headline news itself until knocked off the front page by the kidnapping of Donald. I was in hospital, so missed most of the news stories. A police car had been parked in our road for several days to keep news crews away. My death has been labelled as a hate crime due to me being transgendered. Donald’s kidnapping had diverted attention away from me temporarily, however once the connection was made known, I would have to be careful as interest in my death will be renewed.

I take the opportunity to find out some more information from Freddy. “What happened to Dwain Scott? I know he disappeared after his last confrontation with David. Has he recovered?”

“He’s been sent to a clinic in the next county,” Freddy replies, “He has been diagnosed with a mild form of bi-polar disorder, which is currently being treated.”

“I assumed he must have been depressed after David described the events on the roof,” I say, “but I didn’t realise he was suffering from manic depression.”

“Neither did anybody else,” Freddy elaborates, “however looking back it is easy to see his mood swings. His more crazy ideas, and most of the trouble caused, were during periods that could be described as manic. I often had to rein him in to stop him getting into serious trouble. I didn’t always succeed. I assume you heard how he charged into the girls’ changing room before I could stop him. Other days he would be very quiet and reflective.”

“He was on a high while rigging up the locker prank, but David suddenly fighting back shocked him out of it. Instead, he sunk into a low with anxiety over what might happen next. The video destroyed his confidence entirely and he sunk into a bigger low than I have witnessed before,” Freddy states. “I am in regular contact with him. He was shocked over David’s death. Once he has been stabilised he will return to school, although possibly not here, as he has too many enemies, not enough friends, and no respect following the video and David’s death.”

Having cleared the air with my two opponents and learning a lot about past events, we settle down to complete the assignment. While we will never be friends, we are at least on speaking terms without biting each other’s heads off. Stephanie is feeling guilty about her involvement, but I am confident my reassurances have helped her come to terms with the situation.