The Academy: Dominion City Thrillers Book 1 by Alex Luddon

Author:Alex Luddon [Luddon, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AlexLuddon.com
Published: 2022-07-17T16:00:00+00:00

Damian lived in an old wooden house that had been divided into three separate apartments. I stepped through the gate which was hanging loose off a single hinge, and up an overgrown path. The grass out front hadn’t been mown in months, and the weeds had smothered whatever flowers had grown in the garden. I climbed the stairs and approached the door which—like the rest of the house—had paint peeling off in small, curling bits.

As I raised my hand to knock on the door, I paused.

What was I doing here? I had no credentials or evidence, nothing to support my story. Like Harry Perkins, Damian Rogers was a teacher at Empire High. He was probably a member of the Party.

And here I was, a stranger, telling him that the Party wanted him dead.

Who knew how he would react? He might rant and rave and kick me out. He might act polite, while secretly calling the police.

But his colleague, his friend, had been murdered. Surely, that changed everything?

It was a risk. But it was a risk to save his life.

“Screw it,” I whispered, rapping my knuckles on the door. I heard loud banging from inside, and then the sound of squeaking floorboards. It was still only a little after eight—I wondered if I’d woken him up.

As the door opened, I was surprised to find a slightly built man, dressed in a blue collared shirt and a suit jacket. “Yes?” he said, soundly mildly impatient.

I found myself lost for words. Something about this runty, intellectual man drained me of confidence.

He raised his eyebrows. “Well?”

“Mr. Rogers?” I managed.

“Yes?”

“I…” I began, not sure what to say. I needed a pretext, but nothing came to mind. “I know about Harry Perkins.”

He squinted, folding his arms across his chest. “Everyone knows about Harry Perkins. It’s been in the papers.”

“That is, I know how he died.”

“That’s not exactly a secret, either,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “Look, I don’t know what this is, but I have to teach a class at nine.”

He made to close the door, so I took a step inside. “Please.”

“You need to move.”

“No,” I said. “We need to talk. You don’t understand. I know how he really died.”

“He killed himself. They practically said as much.”

“They?”

“The principal. The school board.”

“They’re lying.”

He studied me again, and I began to regret my choice. He was too suspicious. Too skeptical. He’d never believe me.

“How do you know?”

I looked over my shoulder, down to the street. “Inside.”

“Okay,” he said, stepping back from the door. “Five minutes. And then I really need you to go.”

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