Chapter 5

Chapter 5

‘It’s Satvinder Neale from Forensics. I’ve got an ID on your White Cross Academy victim.’

Jennie stops walking. Grips the phone tighter, her heart rate accelerating. ‘Okay.’

‘The remains exhumed from the school this morning are a match for the dental records of Miss Hannah Jennings. She’d had a filling on the seventeenth of May 1994 and the dentist took X-rays before the procedure. Those X-rays show no changes in her teeth occurred between the time of the filling and the time when she died.’

Satvinder reels off Hannah’s date of birth and the address she had registered with the dentist, but Jennie knows those details by heart. Instead, she thinks about all the sightings of Hannah posted on the Class of ’94 Facebook group over the years, people claiming to have seen Hannah chilling out in the Wood at Glastonbury, dancing wildly at an Adam Lambert gig at G-A-Y, or hiking with the most enormous rucksack at Grasmere in the Lake District. Every time Jennie had seen a post reporting a sighting of Hannah, hope had flared that one day, maybe, she’d get to see her friend again. Now she knows for certain that will never happen.

Jennie thanks Satvinder for the information and ends the call. She takes a breath, steadying herself, then hurries to the incident room. There’s no time to waste.

‘So we’ve got a confirmed ID,’ Jennie tells the gathered team. ‘Our victim is Hannah Jennings, an eighteen-year-old pupil at White Cross Academy who was reported missing on Friday the tenth of June 1994.’

All eyes are on her. Squeezing her hands into fists to stop her hands from shaking, Jennie looks around the narrow room.

DS Zuri Otueome is sitting at the front, making notes on her scratchpad. In contrast, DS Martin Wright has removed his Ted Baker suit jacket and is lounging back in his chair looking relaxed. Behind the sergeants, DC Naomi Bradfield and DC Steve Williams look focused and attentive, even though, as is the norm these days, poor Steve has dark circles under his eyes and the look of a man who hasn’t truly slept in months.

‘Naomi, can you hold the pen on this one?’ asks Jennie. Petite, with a mass of hard-to-tame black ringlets, fifty-something Naomi is the epitome of a reliable pair of hands. A career DC, she’s diligent and thorough, and someone who Jennie has come to rely on a great deal.

‘Sure,’ says Naomi, getting to her feet and moving across to the huge whiteboard that covers the length of the end wall.

‘Thanks.’ Jennie takes a seat at the front. She doesn’t trust her voice not to crack when talking through the details of this morning’s discovery, so she looks at Zuri. ‘Do you want to take us through what happened at the school?’

‘No problem,’ says Zuri, opening her notebook. ‘We received a call from the construction manager at 6.43am. His workers discovered human remains during their final preparations for the planned detonation to demolish the school building. Initial pathologist observations are that the body had been in the ground for between twenty and thirty years, and the cause of death was likely to have been strangulation. Given she was also buried beneath the pipe work, foul play is strongly suggested.’

‘No shit,’ says DS Martin Wright dismissively, without making eye contact with Zuri.

‘The post-mortem is scheduled for tomorrow,’ continues Zuri, ignoring Martin’s tone.

‘How come the remains weren’t visible before now?’ asks Martin, looking at Jennie rather than Zuri.

Jennie nods for Zuri to take the question. She wishes the two sergeants would sort out whatever’s going on. There’s been a rift between them for several months and neither has been willing to speak about it. Jennie’s even tried to get Zuri to open up on one of their regular cinema trips, but Zuri just brushed off the question, saying it was nothing. It doesn’t seem like nothing, though. If they don’t resolve whatever it is soon, Jennie knows she’s going to have to intervene.

Zuri looks directly at Martin. ‘Until last week, the basement floor had been concrete. The crew dug it up in order to bury the explosive charges. This weekend was the first heavy rain since the concrete was removed and the basement flooded, washing away soil to reveal the remains.’

Martin’s nostrils flare but he says nothing.

‘Thanks, Zuri,’ says Jennie, pausing a moment while Naomi finishes noting down the information on the whiteboard. She clocks the look of irritation on Martin’s face and wonders if it’s due to him not managing to trip up Zuri or because Jennie thanked her. Either way, he needs to get over it.

Jennie continues. ‘As I said, Hannah Jennings was reported as a misper back in June 1994. I’ve pulled the old case file and had a look through it. It’s pretty light on detail, but what we know about our victim is that she lived on the Chairmaker’s Estate with her father. Her mum had left them a few years earlier and was living in London at the time Hannah went missing, although there wasn’t believed to have been contact between them. The file indicates that Hannah and her father, Paul Jennings, had a difficult relationship.’

‘Was it the usual teenage rebellion type stuff or more serious?’ asks Martin. ‘Any suspicions of abuse?’

Jennie pauses. She thinks of the things Hannah told her about her dad, how he’d get angry and lose his temper, yelling and sometimes throwing stuff, like the time he hurled a full plate of spaghetti bolognese at the wall because Hannah had forgotten to put onion in with the mince. She shakes her head. ‘The file doesn’t indicate any physical abuse took place, but there’s a witness statement that mentions a heated argument on the day Hannah disappeared.’

At the back of the room, DC Steve Williams clears his throat. With his thinning hair and the dark circles beneath his eyes, he’s a shadow of the man he was a year ago, before his wife died of cancer, leaving him a single dad to their two young boys. ‘Did they ever close the original case?’

‘They did.’ Jennie tries not to let the bitterness she feels about it come out too strongly in her tone. ‘Hannah Jennings was deemed a runaway and they closed the case at the end of July 1994.’

‘On what evidence?’ asks Naomi from over at the whiteboard.

‘Not enough. At first the investigation focused on the dad, Paul Jennings, and a teacher, Duncan Edwards, who Hannah was rumoured to have been in a relationship with, but the case file concludes no evidence of wrongdoing against either.’ Jennie taps her finger against the buff file she’d put on the table beside her. ‘It was after a witness, Siobhan Gibbons, came forward saying she’d seen Hannah at the train station on the night she disappeared that the investigation concluded Hannah was just another wayward eighteen-year-old who’d run off to London.’

‘ Had she been having a relationship with the teacher?’ asks Zuri.

‘Perhaps,’ says Jennie. She knows that there’d been something going on between Hannah and Mr Edwards but whether it was more than a flirtation she wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t serious as far as Hannah was concerned. But she can’t say that, obviously, as it’s not in the file. ‘There’s nothing conclusive. I was at White Cross Academy at the time, and I do vaguely remember the rumour mill blaming Mr Edwards even after he was dropped as a suspect.’

Zuri raises her eyebrows. ‘Did you know the victim?’

Jennie shakes her head. ‘I only moved to White Cross for the last year of sixth form. I didn’t really know anyone at the school well.’

‘But you think this teacher bloke could be dodgy?’ asks Martin.

‘I know the extra art supplies were kept in a cupboard in the basement corridor close to the boiler room where Hannah’s body was found.’ An image of her friend’s remains half buried in the muddy trench flashes into her mind. Swallowing hard, Jennie pushes it away. ‘We need to find Duncan Edwards as a priority.’

Naomi writes the action on the whiteboard. Martin and Steve nod in agreement. Zuri makes a note on her pad.

‘Hannah went missing during the study leave period before sitting her A levels,’ says Jennie, trying to strike the right balance between giving useful information and soft pedalling her connection to Hannah. ‘But she was part of a photography group known as the “darkroom crew” who used to hang out in the basement space. They were one of a number of clubs that used the basement, each with their own spaces, both during and out of school hours. So although Hannah was on study leave, she might still have been going into school for that reason.’

Zuri looks thoughtful. ‘Given it sounds as if her relationship with her dad was a bit fraught, it could be this darkroom crew were like a sanctuary for her to escape to when things at home were difficult. We should find them and see what they have to say.’

‘There are statements from them in the old case file,’ says Jennie, trying to sound impartial even though her heart is racing at the thought of having to bring her old friends into this. ‘But, as I said, a lot of students used to hang out in the basement and the darkroom crew were just a few kids among many others. I don’t think that’s a useful line of inquiry at this stage. We need to focus on the two original suspects and see what else the first investigation missed.’

Zuri frowns, clearly disagreeing but not challenging Jennie’s decision.

‘Good plan, boss,’ says Martin, giving Zuri a smug look.

Zuri ignores him.

‘Can you give us an update on forensics, Zuri?’ asks Jennie, wanting to step out of the spotlight for a moment. The effort of not appearing too upset and of not revealing too much is taking its toll. She feels mentally and emotionally exhausted.

‘Several items of clothing and personal effects were found with the body,’ says Zuri. ‘There was a partially rotted plaid shirt, a belt buckle, a pendant found near the body, and a rucksack. The rucksack contained clothes, make-up and what looks like a modelling portfolio. They’ve all been sent to the lab for analysis. I’ve tried to impress upon them that speed is of the essence, but as it’s essentially a cold case we might be waiting a few days for any results.’

While Zuri finishes speaking, Martin bends down and starts re-tying the blue and claret West Ham laces on his black Doc Marten shoes.

‘Good work, Zuri,’ says Jennie. She looks around the gathered team. ‘Okay, so familiarise yourselves with the details of the original misper investigation. Just because this case is thirty years old, that doesn’t make it any less important. Hannah Jennings lost her life and was written off as a runaway. This police force failed her back then. Finding the truth now falls to us, and we’re going to get her justice.’

There are nods from the team. Naomi moves across to the section of the whiteboard with the action list. She looks at Jennie expectantly.

‘Next steps, we need to find out how a body could have been buried in concrete in the school basement without anyone noticing,’ says Jennie. ‘And find the whereabouts now of any suspects and witnesses named in the original investigation. The teacher, Duncan Edwards, is top of that list. We’ll inform next of kin, then start the interviews. No one is to let the press get hold of the victim’s identity until I give the nod.’

There are murmurs of agreement from the team.

‘I did a search for next of kin,’ says Zuri. ‘The victim’s dad still lives in White Cross, although in a different part of town from before. Unfortunately, her mum passed away from Covid in 2020.’

‘Thanks, Zuri,’ says Jennie as a wave of sadness washes over her that Hannah’s mother died before knowing what happened to her daughter. Hannah had been estranged from her mum since she left, but in the last few weeks before she’d disappeared they’d secretly been in contact. There was talk of meeting up away from White Cross and Hannah hoped it wouldn’t be too long before that happened. Given how Hannah described her dad – an angry man who had zero respect for women – Jennie makes a decision. ‘Zuri, can you get the actions assigned? Martin, come with me; we’re going to notify Paul Jennings that we’ve found his daughter.’

She feels bad when she sees the disappointed look on Zuri’s face. By rights, she should be riding shotgun on this, but having a man in the room feels like the wisest play, even though she hates that it’s necessary. Martin, on the other hand, isn’t disguising his delight, grinning like the cat that got the cream as he gets up.

Jennie glances from Martin to Zuri.

What the hell’s going on between them?