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Is coming here a stupid mistake?
Rob admitted to meeting Hannah after hours in the school, just the two of them. He said they only did heroin the one time, but what if he was lying? Could there have been another bad trip or overdose? Was Rob the one who killed and buried Hannah? Did he realise in the interview that Jennie was suspicious of him? What would he do if he had?
Am I walking into a trap?
The breeze whistles through the trees. The branches creak as they sway in the wind, heightening her anxiety. Jennie presses on, half expecting Rob to jump out at her at any moment.
She’s close to the top of the hill now, maybe just a hundred metres from the summit. It’s too late to turn back. The creaking is getting louder, more rhythmic.
The path opens up into the clearing where she took the photographs of Hannah all those years ago. A rabbit sprints across the path in front of her, illuminated by the beam of her phone’s torch, and Jennie’s stomach flips, then she laughs at the ridiculousness of being afraid of a bunny.
You’re fine.
Then there’s another creak. Louder this time, and directly in front of her. Using the torch, Jennie scans the path up ahead. Her breath catches in her throat. She stops, unable to comprehend what she’s seeing as she raises the beam of light from the ground ahead and unsteadily upward.
An old crate, fallen onto its side.
Brown brogues.
Orange and blue socks.
Pin-striped Paul Smith trousers.
Rob?
Jennie rushes forward. She grabs Rob’s legs, trying to take his weight, to put slack in the rope that’s around his neck, but she can’t. He’s too heavy and she stumbles, losing her grip. Desperate, she climbs the tree. It’s a big gnarly oak, the trunk twisted and ancient. She scrambles up and along the branch to the rope.
Her heart is pounding in her chest. Her fingers scrabble at the rope, trying to undo the knot, but it’s stuck firm. She puts her phone on the branch and yanks at the rope. The branch creaks. The rope slowly rotates, the torchlight illuminating Rob’s face.
Oh God.
Jennie tugs at the knot, desperate to release him. Her actions become more frantic. She accidentally catches the end of the phone with her hand, and it falls from the branch to the ground with a soft thud. There’s no light on the rope now. It’s impossible to see what she’s doing but she can’t give up. She can’t. She can’t.
Jennie keeps wrestling with the rope. Battling to release the tension.
‘Come on, come on,’ she says, yanking at the end of the rope. Tears of frustration prick her eyes. Then, finally she feels the knot loosen. The rope slips through.
The release is sudden. The drop brutal.
Leaping down from the tree, Jennie hurries to Rob’s prone form. Gripping his shoulder, she turns him over then gropes about in the dirt to find her phone before shining its torch beam on his face.
Eyes open. Mouth wide. Blue-tinged lips. Rob Marwood looks dead.
Jennie checks for a pulse and uses her other hand to dial 999. There’s only one bar of signal, but thankfully, the call connects. She puts the phone on speaker and blows two breaths into Rob’s mouth. She can’t find a pulse. Is she too late? She can’t be. She has to know what he wanted to tell her.
Questions swirl in her mind. Did he try to take his own life? Did someone follow him into the woods and attempt to kill him? If he was going to take his life, why did he want to meet her so urgently?
‘What is your emergency?’ the call handler’s voice sounds distant and tinny on the other end of the line.
‘This is Detective Inspector Jennie Whitmore,’ she says, starting chest compressions. ‘I need an ambulance sent to the clearing on the main path at the top of White Cross Hill, use my position to co-ordinate. There’s been an incident. The man has no pulse. I’ve started CPR.’
‘Are you in danger?’ asks the call handler.
‘No, I …’ That’s when Jennie sees the note, still gripped in Rob’s right hand. She angles the torchlight closer, peering forward to read what it says.
For a moment it feels as if everything stops.
It’s hard to find peace when you’ve got blood on your hands. I’m sorry.
