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Jennie recognises the obstinate look in Lottie’s eyes from when they were in sixth form, but she doesn’t back down. ‘Because from what I remember the youth club disco ran several times a week. You’re sure it was the night Hannah disappeared and not another night?’
‘I told you, yes, I’m completely sure.’ Lottie looks confused. Her words become rushed, emotion clouding her voice. ‘Hannah disappearing is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. Where I was – what I was doing instead of being with her – is forever etched in my mind. Of course I’m sure.’
Jennie knows she’s lying. She can’t drop it. ‘Sometimes the stress of a situation can warp our memories and make us—’
‘Jen, please.’ Lottie puts her hand over Jennie’s again. ‘I know where I was. I didn’t see what happened to Hannah. I wish I did. I wish I could have stopped whoever did this, whoever killed our dear friend, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I …’ Tears well up in Lottie’s eyes. She grips Jennie’s hand tighter. ‘None of us could.’
Zuri looks from Lottie to Jennie, frowning.
Shit. This looks bad.
Slowly, Jennie tries to extract her hand from Lottie’s. She has to stop pushing her about what she was doing the night Hannah disappeared. But it’s infuriating. Clearly, Lottie is lying, but she’s so good at it. Now Zuri is looking at her suspiciously and she needs to do some major damage control if she’s to pull this back. ‘Okay, so—’
‘Can you tell us about this picture,’ says Zuri, talking over Jennie as she pushes a printout of the ‘Justice for Hannah’ Facebook post that Lottie recently published on the Class of ’94 school alumni page.
Lottie takes the printout. She shakes her head sadly. ‘It’s the last picture of us all together.’
Jennie holds her breath. The photo is the one Jennie took of the darkroom crew on the day they went on study leave, all sitting on the old sofa in the darkroom. She remembers how she and Lottie had used a cropped version of the photo on the makeshift ‘missing’ posters they’d made and pinned up all over town in the days after Hannah disappeared.
‘Can you name the other people in the picture?’ asks Zuri.
‘Sure,’ replies Lottie. She points to each person as she says their name. ‘Simon Ackhurst. Rob Marwood. Elliott Naylor. Hannah. Me.’
‘That’s helpful, thank you,’ says Zuri as she writes the names on her notepad. ‘Do you know where they are now?’
Jennie tries to keep her expression neutral. Where’s her DS going with this line of questioning?
‘I guess,’ says Lottie, glancing from Zuri to Jennie. ‘I’m in semi-regular contact with Rob and Elliott. Rob’s based in London now, but Elliott’s still fairly local in Whitchurch. I know Simon still lives in White Cross – he’s got a houseboat moored along the canal somewhere, I think – but I haven’t seen him in years. I think maybe Elliott still catches up with him sometimes.’
‘That’s really helpful,’ says Zuri, closing her notebook. ‘I think we’ve got everything we need for now.’
Jennie feels relief flood through her. She can’t wait to get out of here.
‘Lovely,’ says Lottie, with a forced-looking smile. ‘Like I said, I’m really happy to help in any way that I can, but you could just ask Jennie about most of this stuff.’
Jennie freezes.
‘How’s that?’ says Zuri, frowning.
‘Well, she took the photo of us all of course,’ says Lottie, laughing. ‘She was almost like one of us.’
This can’t be happening. Lottie has simultaneously managed to out her as a friend of Hannah’s and belittle her connection to her and the darkroom crew.
Zuri doesn’t say anything, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing to worry about. Her DS is utterly professional and would never show her emotions in front of a potential suspect, but knowing her as well as Jennie does, she can see from the tightness in her jaw and her pursed lips that Zuri’s confused, and maybe even upset.
Lottie tilts her head to one side, smiling. Seemingly blissfully unaware of the damage she’s just inflicted, she adds brightly, ‘Shall I show you both out then?’
Chapter 19
Jennie’s reading the details of the candlelit vigil that’s been organised for Hannah on the Class of ’94 Facebook page when DCI Campbell steps out of his office and beckons for her to join him.
She feels her heart rate accelerate. The DCI looks furious.
Getting up, she moves through the open-plan area to his office. Her team is hard at work: Steve and Naomi are on their phones, Martin is tapping out an email, Zuri is going through some paperwork from the original file. None of them look up as she passes by.
As soon as she’s inside, her boss gestures for her to close the door, but says nothing. It’s a bad sign. The DCI prides himself on a largely open-door policy. Only when the shit is really hitting the fan does he choose to have it closed.
She sits down on the only free seat; the others are still piled high with old computer equipment. Butterflies swarm in her stomach, wings whirring, making her feel sick.
