Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Elliott Naylor is waiting in reception. He stands up as he sees Jennie coming through the door into the station. ‘Can we speak? There’s something I need to tell you.’

Maybe it’s the lack of greeting, or the intimate way he speaks, or just the fact he’s clearly been waiting for her, but Zuri gives Jennie a questioning look and raises her eyebrows. Jennie almost laughs out loud; the idea of there being anything romantic between her and Elliott is absurd. She cringes inwardly, remembering when she initially got to know him. He was the first one of the darkroom crew, aside from Hannah, to really warm to her. He was kind and attentive, spending hours talking her through how to develop her own photographs using the various chemical baths, and then coaching her through her first few attempts.

It was the first time Jennie had had that kind of closeness with a boy, and she’d thought maybe she had a chance with him. When Hannah had realised, she’d laughed and teased Jennie mercilessly about how her gaydar was off. Jennie had been gutted, but she’d tried to put a brave face on it. Even so, Hannah had sensed her discomfort and backed off quickly. But Lottie persisted in mocking her, often making kissy faces at her behind Elliott’s back and trying to get her to play ‘straight or gay’ as she pointed at different kids in assembly. Jennie made a point of never telling Lottie who she had a crush on after that.

Jennie smiles at Elliott. Careful to keep her tone professional rather than overly friendly, she says, ‘Can I ask what it’s about?’

‘Hannah,’ he says, a pained expression fliting across his face as he looks from Jennie to Zuri. ‘I need to tell you something important about Hannah Jennings.’

Jennie glances at Zuri. ‘Can you find us a free room?’

Her DS looks confused, but she recovers quickly. ‘Sure.’

As Zuri heads over to the desk sergeant to find out which interview rooms are available, Jennie leans closer to Elliott. ‘What’s going on?’

He shakes his head, the pained expression back on his face. ‘It’s bad, Jen. I have to …’

‘We can use room two,’ says Zuri, rejoining them.

‘Great,’ says Jennie. ‘Could you take a seat here for a couple of minutes while we get set up?’

Elliott frowns. ‘Erm, sure … Okay.’

‘Thanks,’ replies Jennie, giving him a reassuring smile. ‘We won’t keep you waiting long.’

Leaving Elliott in the waiting area, Jennie and Zuri stride along the corridor to the lifts. Jennie’s wondering how to play this; it must be obvious to Zuri that Elliott knows who Jennie is, and that she knows him well enough to be on first-name terms. But she can’t let Zuri know just how close they once were or it could give away the strength of her connection to Hannah.

Reaching the lift, Zuri reaches out and presses the button for level two. As the lift doors open and they step inside, she turns and looks questioningly at Jennie. ‘What did I miss?’

The question throws Jennie for a moment. ‘Miss?’

‘When I was getting the room organised,’ says Zuri. ‘He was telling you something?’

‘Nothing of note,’ Jennie replies, keeping her tone light. ‘Just that he’s really anxious to talk with us.’

‘Interesting,’ says Zuri. ‘You think he’s about to confess?’

‘I doubt that,’ Jennie answers, quicker than she should. ‘I mean, he didn’t give any indication of that.’

‘Sometimes they don’t,’ says Zuri. She shakes her head. ‘Whatever it is, he looked wired.’

‘Yeah.’

Elliott has always been highly logical and structured in the way he does things. He’s not an impulsive guy. For him just to turn up at the station and wait for Jennie is completely out of character.

What’s going on with him?

The lift doors open on the second floor and they head towards the open-plan desks.

‘Anyway, how did you know who he was back in reception?’ asks Zuri. ‘The way he spoke to you, he seemed to be very … familiar.’

Stay cool.

Jennie shrugs, trying to act normal. ‘I recognised him from school. Weirdly, he looks pretty much the same as he did back then.’

‘Right.’ Zuri looks away.

At her desk, Jennie grabs Elliott’s statement from the original misper case file and her notebook. She hunts around for the silver fountain pen she likes to use, but can’t find it anywhere. Looking over the desk divider, she asks Zuri, ‘Do you have a pen I can borrow?’

‘Sure,’ says Zuri, passing her a biro. ‘Keep it.’

‘Thanks.’ As she takes the pen from Zuri, their eyes meet. Jennie wonders whether it’s just her imagination or if her DS has a hint of doubt in her gaze.

Interview room two is Jennie’s least favourite. It’s smaller than the others and, being an internal room, has no natural light. Even the white walls, light wood-effect laminate table and pale wood-effect vinyl flooring can’t brighten up the space enough to make it feel less like a dungeon.

They take their seats, Jennie and Zuri on one side of the table, Elliott on the other. In the unforgiving strip lighting, Elliott looks even worse than he had downstairs. There are dark circles under his eyes and his hair seems greyer and unkempt.

Jennie sets the audio recorder going and parrots the usual start-of-interview preamble before asking, ‘What is it that you want to tell us?’

Elliott takes a deep breath. ‘Okay. So on the day Hannah went missing I was in the darkroom, the school basement, developing some of my photographs. I’d been there most of the afternoon and stayed on into the evening. I was almost done when Hannah rushed in.’

‘What time was this?’ asks Zuri, looking up from the notes she’s taking.

‘Erm. Later on in the evening sometime, I’m not exactly sure when.’ He looks at Jennie. ‘I always lost track of time when I was in the darkroom.’

‘And you were alone?’ asks Zuri.

‘Yes,’ replies Elliott. ‘There was a supply delivery in the afternoon, around four o’clock I think, but after that I didn’t see anyone.’

Jennie nods. ‘What happened after Hannah arrived?’

‘Yeah, so she was in a real state. She’d been crying, her mascara was all down her cheeks, and really shaky. I was trying to find out what had happened when the darkroom door flew open and her dad stormed in yelling …’ Elliott presses his hands together, clasping and unclasping his fingers.

‘Go on,’ says Jennie.

‘I hate any kind of arguing and I didn’t really know Mr Jennings at all. It was awkward. I felt really uncomfortable.’ Elliott stops speaking and looks down at the table, seemingly conflicted.

‘What happened next?’ asks Zuri, gently. ‘Anything you can tell us, no matter how small or inconsequential you think it is, could help us find your friend’s killer.’

Elliott keeps looking at the table. His voice is softer, more vulnerable-sounding now. ‘I left them both there. I … there was so much shouting. Mr Jennings was telling Hannah she had to go home and she was screaming that she hated him. I just … it was too much.’ He looks up at Jennie. ‘I didn’t want to be caught in the middle of their family argument, I had enough of that with my own parents, so I made an excuse and I left. I doubt they even noticed I’d gone.’

Jennie stares at him, shocked. There’s nothing about this in the original case file, and he’d never told her or the others that he’d seen Hannah that night. ‘Did you mention this to the police at the time?’

‘No.’ Elliott blows out hard and runs a hand through his hair. ‘I didn’t think it was relevant and, if I’m honest, I was pretty scared of Mr Jennings. Especially that night. He was so riled up …’

‘In your statement,’ says Jennie, scanning the one-page statement Elliott had given after Hannah had gone missing. ‘You said you’d been in the darkroom from mid-afternoon until after dark. Is that correct?’

Elliott nods. ‘Yes, I was. It was dark when I left.’

‘And you told the detectives that the last time you’d seen Hannah was two days before she disappeared?’

‘I had seen her two days earlier.’ Elliott’s voice is meek, like a penitent child. ‘But I also saw her that night.’

Jennie can’t fully suppress the anger in her voice as she asks, ‘Why didn’t you think it was relevant for the detectives to know about the argument between Hannah and her dad?’

‘I was an idiot, okay. I know that.’ Elliott presses his hands together, interlacing his fingers and clenching them tight. ‘But the papers said Hannah had been seen by a witness at the train station later in the evening, so it wasn’t relevant that she’d argued with her dad earlier, was it? He couldn’t have done anything to hurt her because she’d been seen several hours later looking perfectly okay. I was convinced she was fine.’

She thinks back to all the sightings of Hannah posted on the Class of ’94 Facebook page over the years. Eyewitness statements, even when made with the best of intentions, are often inaccurate on some level.

Elliott, seemingly unsettled by Jennie’s silence, continues talking. ‘The witness came forward, didn’t they? The police ruled that Hannah had run away and I believed them. We all believed them. How was I to know they were wrong? I mean, back then, it seemed that me having seen her earlier was irrelevant and her dad was already going through hell, so …’ He hangs his head, looking as if stress is eating away at him as he scratches the raised pink eczema on his hands. ‘How was I to know she never left the basement?’

Jennie wants to shake him. No matter how scared he’d felt of Hannah’s dad, he should have told the police this at the time. Or her, he could have told her .

Glancing at Zuri, Jennie sees the thinly disguised disgust on her colleague’s face. Jennie feels it too, but she’s also fighting back fury. Elliott had been both her friend and Hannah’s. He was the person she trusted most after Hannah. She thought they had no secrets, yet he kept something to himself that could have been critical to finding Hannah. She can’t get her head round it.

Forcing her feelings down, she swallows hard and does her best to sound composed. ‘Is there anything else you missed out in your original statement?’

Elliott shakes his head. He looks up at her, utterly guilt-stricken. ‘Is Hannah’s death my fault? Did I leave her when she needed me most?’

Jennie wants to say no, but she can’t help thinking, Yes. Yes, you did.