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His eyes met hers and Jennie blushed. It felt as if a flock of butterflies had taken flight inside her stomach. ‘Yes,’ she said, inwardly cringing at how lame her voice sounded. She cleared her throat. ‘I love taking pictures.’
Until that moment her life in White Cross, and at the school, had been hell. But meeting Hannah and the darkroom crew had changed everything. Jennie knew she’d finally found her people in this mismatched group brought together in a sanctuary beneath the school. She had wanted to be part of their group, whatever it took. And although she’d become firm friends with Hannah and Elliott almost immediately, it had taken a little while longer for the others to warm up to her. But they did. For the rest of the year, until they went on study leave before their exams, the six of them were inseparable. Then, suddenly, Hannah had disappeared.
‘Don’t you think, DI Whitmore?’
The sound of Hassan’s voice pulls Jennie back into the present. Not wanting to look any more at what she is sure will prove to be her friend’s remains, Jennie turns to face Hassan and Zuri. ‘Sorry, I missed that.’
Hassan peers at Jennie over the top of his wire-framed glasses. ‘I said if you’re done with looking at the body, I can have her exhumed and transported to the lab.’
‘Sure,’ says Jennie. ‘I’ve seen enough.’
‘How long until you’ll be able to do the post-mortem?’ asks Zuri as they turn away from the trench and walk back across the boiler room towards the door.
‘We’re pretty stacked up at the moment, so it won’t be today, but I’ll try and get her first on the list for tomorrow,’ Hassan replies.
‘Thanks,’ says Jennie. ‘I appreciate that.’
Leaving Hassan to organise the removal of the body, Jennie and Zuri head back along the passageway towards the stairs. Jennie’s still reeling from the discovery. Her legs are as wobbly as an hour-old foal’s. Her mind feels scattered and confused. For so long she’s believed Hannah left for London without her. She’s hoped beyond hope for almost thirty years that one day Hannah would make contact, that she’d explain why she left the way she did, and where she’s been all this time. That she’d be alive. But now that hope is gone. Hannah is dead. She was lying in a dirty, concrete-covered hole in the school basement for all these years.
‘You okay?’ asks Zuri, concern on her face.
‘I’m fine. It’s just weird being back at this school. It looks so different,’ Jennie covers, trying to keep her tone light. ‘And it smells bad, which with my hangover isn’t the most fun.’
‘I bet.’ Zuri grimaces in sympathy. ‘So, what’s the plan for when we get back?’
‘I’ll brief the boss first, then let’s gather everyone in the incident room.’ Jennie checks her watch. ‘In, say, an hour?’
‘Sure thing.’
As they pass the door to the darkroom, the place that was once her and Hannah’s sanctuary, Jennie feels an overwhelming urge to open the door and look inside. She wants to curl up on the old sofa, smell the reassuring chemicals, and feel cocooned and safe in the glow of the soft red light. She resists, though, just like she resists telling Zuri that she thinks she knows who the victim is, and that she was her best friend. Because although it might help to tell someone, and Zuri is the closest thing she has to a friend these days, she’s also a stickler for the rules – which would necessitate that Jennie step away from this case and hand the reins to another DI. Jennie can’t do that. She absolutely can’t. She has to find out who did this to Hannah.
They leave the school building and pass back through the area cordoned off with police tape. Jennie collects her bike from where she’d propped it against the fence. As they exit through the school gates, Jennie’s surprised to see the size of the crowd gathered at the barriers erected by the construction workers to keep people back from the blast zone. She recognises a few locals, serial rubbernecks, along with several ex-students, including Lottie Varney.
I’ll have to tell Lottie about Hannah.
Pushing away the thought, Jennie looks at Zuri and raises her eyebrows. ‘Busy out here.’
Zuri nods. ‘Do you think they’re here to watch the detonation or because word’s got out about the body?’
‘I guess we’ll find out in a minute,’ says Jennie, striding towards the barrier.
As she wheels her bike through the gap in the barrier, she sees Lottie pushing her way through the crowd to the front.
Lottie raises her hand, waving. ‘Can you tell us what’s going on in there? Rumour has it there’s been a murder? Is that right? Surely it can’t be right?’
‘I’m sorry, we can’t give any details,’ says Jennie.
‘But, Jennie, can’t you tell me?’ Lottie moves along the barrier towards her. ‘I mean, a murder here in White Cross? That’s just so unimaginable.’
Jennie stiffens. She can’t appear too pally with Lottie, not if she wants to have any chance of staying the lead on this investigation. And she can’t share the details either; if she does, she’ll break down. So she shakes her head. Keeps her tone professional. ‘Like I said, we can’t comment at this time.’
A flicker of confusion passes across Lottie’s face, quickly followed by hurt. Jennie keeps walking, heading along the cordoned-off section of the street towards the main road.
‘I’m over here,’ says Zuri, gesturing to the blue Toyota parked on the double yellows. ‘See you back at base?’
‘See you there,’ Jennie agrees. Undoing her cycle helmet from the crossbar, she straps it on and climbs onto her bike. Before she starts pedalling, Jennie glances over her shoulder, back towards the school and the crowd gathered outside.
There’s a woman standing slightly away from the group, facing towards the road rather than the school building. She’s frowning, yet her expression is oddly hard to read. As their eyes meet, Jennie feels her stomach clench.
