‘Come with me, Emma Cartwright,’ he ordered, eyes unblinking.
‘Yes, sir,’ she replied, the appellation automatic. She followed him into a short corridor leading to a barred gate, through which she could see four young people standing in a line, arms by their sides, naked heads raised. All appeared to be staring at a point above the head-high gate.
Jack was not among them.
Swallowing hard, Emma concentrated on keeping her breathing even. The gate opened and guard and parent advanced, their footsteps ringing on the rough concrete floor. None of the students moved a muscle as the two passed by, but Emma sensed their compassion and experienced a tinge of gratitude that complete strangers still under detention could spare a thought for her.
‘In here.’ The guard indicated a door on the right
