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They enter the open-plan area. As they walk towards the desks, Jennie sees through the glass wall that sitting in the DCI’s office are Martin and a stern-faced woman she recognises as being from HR. The DCI looks like he’s in full flow. Not wanting to get too close, she diverts across to where Naomi is sitting.
Naomi and Steve have desks opposite each other and you couldn’t get two more different spaces. Steve’s is all old takeaway coffee cups, chocolate wrappers and piles of paperwork, whereas Naomi’s is spotless and paperless aside from the file she’s currently working with.
Naomi looks up as Jennie approaches. ‘How was the interview with Naylor?’
‘Not hugely illuminating,’ says Jennie, stopping beside Naomi. ‘But there are a few things I’d like you to check on.’
‘Sure,’ says Naomi, reaching for her notebook and pen.
‘Can you double-check Simon Ackhurst’s alibi, and then go through the photography club inventory for the month Hannah went missing and look for any orders of chemicals, specifically hydrochloric acid?’
Naomi jots down the actions onto her pad. ‘No problem.’
‘Thanks,’ says Jennie. She glances towards the DCI’s office and her stomach flips. Inside, Martin is jumping to his feet. From his aggressive pointing, and the way he’s leaning over the desk towards Campbell and the HR woman, Jennie can see Martin’s furious. She can guess why.
As he turns towards the door Jennie stiffens. After going through what happened with the DCI earlier, and the difficult interview with Elliott, she can’t face having to deal with Martin right now.
I need to get out of here.
Chapter 37
Jennie takes the back road out of White Cross town and powers up the long, steep drag of Monument Hill. There’s no one around: it’s just her, the bike and the tarmac. Every pedal stroke, each pound of her racing heart, makes her feel calmer. More grounded. Focused.
The corn crops in the fields on either side of the road have been baked gold by the sun; they sway in the light breeze as if dancing to a song only they can hear. In the distance, she hears a combine working in one of the fields. It sounds as if the harvest has begun.
Her thoughts go back to the interview with Elliott. Perhaps Zuri is right: maybe she did push it a little too far. All the pent-up emotions she’s trying to hold in overspilled, and her anger got directed at him. It’s just that there’s been so much to process. The shock of Hannah’s murder. The gut-wrenching realisation that she might not have abandoned their joint plan to leave town, but had been killed before they could meet. The hurt of discovering Hannah hadn’t shared everything with her as she’d thought. The pain of learning she’d been excluded from the darkroom crew’s parties. The weird encounter with the car following her a few days ago, and then seeing someone lurking in her front garden watching the house. It’s been a lot.
Jennie pedals on. Her breathing becomes heavier. Sweat forms on her forehead and her upper lip. She’s relieved when the top of the hill comes into sight.
She feels bad about pushing Elliott, but that’s the residual affection from their childhood friendship colouring her judgement. He was being evasive, and the more she thinks about the marks on his palms and fingers, the more she believes that they’re not due to eczema but something more like her acid burn. She doubts he’d tell her the truth about them though, even if she asked. She’s alienated him now, that’s for sure.
She reaches the crest of the hill and loops through the woodland past the Glade pub, looking as charmingly characterful as ever with its Tudor exterior of white plaster and black beams, the frontage bedecked with brightly coloured flowers in hanging baskets and tubs. A few groups of walkers sit at the picnic benches outside enjoying lunch in the sun. On another day Jennie would feel tempted to join them. But not today.
At the crossroads, she takes a left onto White Cross Lane. It’s a narrow, single-track road with high banks flanked by the forest on either side. The grass on the banks stands lofty and seeding. Cow parsley and hemlock have woven themselves between the grasses, standing even taller.
This route down is the steepest in the Chilterns. As Jennie starts her descent, the wind whistling past and the brief sense of freedom lift her spirits. She won’t let this case, and the bastard who killed Hannah, beat her. She won’t let Martin’s behaviour drive her away from her team. She’s going to find the truth and bring the murderer to justice.
Jennie’s halfway down the hill when she hears the growl of an engine behind her. She glances over her shoulder but there’s nothing. The noise is getting louder, though. The car can’t be far away. She keeps tight against the verge as she steers the bike through the zig-zagging bends. The lane is at its narrowest here, barely room for a car and no space for easy overtaking.
As she rounds the final bend and the lane starts to straighten up, Jennie exhales. An engine roars behind her and she glances over her shoulder again. She sees a blue car speeding around the corner towards her.
The road is still narrow. The car needs to slow down.
It keeps coming, accelerating.
Jennie’s heart starts to race. She can see the spot up ahead where the lane gets wider. Crouching over the handlebars she pedals faster, trying to reach it.
There’s not enough time. The car’s on her. There’s nowhere for her to go.
She feels a hard jolt as the car rams the back wheel of her bike, then she’s falling, tumbling in a mess of flesh and metal, smacking down onto the tarmac.
The breath is knocked out of her. She tastes blood in her mouth.
She can’t open her eyes. Can’t move her legs.
Her body feels as if it’s on fire.
Jennie hears the squeal of brakes, then the sound of a car door slamming shut.
