Discarded by M. Hunter (the reading list .txt) 📕

I would guess, but her weary face adds at least a couple of years. When she speaks, there is no emotion, just fact stating.

‘Aged between thirteen and fifteen, though I would estimate the latter stage of that range, based on the development of bone around the sexual organs. Cause of death was most likely a fractured neck,’ she says, using a biro to point at the area of damage visible beneath the skull, ‘but further examination of the decomposing flesh that we found still congealed around some of the bone tissue may highlight alternative theories. DNA will be extracted from the bone material and passed to the CSI team to trace, but given the age of the victim, unless she’d been in trouble with the police before, I’d be surprised if a match was made.’

I don’t like this pragmatic description of what could be Anna, and as I stand staring at the hologram I try to imagine her face over the skull, but it’s too painful and I’m forced to look away.

‘Can you estimate how long the victim has been in the ground?’ Jack asks quietly, conscious of my feelings, but eager to establish the facts as swiftly as possible.

‘I will need to continue my examination to be certain; the case was relatively airtight, which explains why we’ve been able to recover as much tissue as we have. Had the body been dumped in the ground in a sack instead, there’s a chance we wouldn’t have found all the pieces. The case has protected her from scavengers, and has given us a better chance of discovering who she was.’

I can’t listen to any more. Maybe it’s easier for Dr Chang and Jack to talk so matter-of-factly about a teenager who was probably murdered before being discarded like a piece of old furniture, but it’s too much for me and I hurry from the room, desperately searching for the exit button to release me from the secured doors.

Jack approaches from behind a moment later and places his hands on my shoulders. ‘I hope as much as you that it’s not her, and had we found any other sightings of your sister since that despicable video was made, we probably wouldn’t even be considering this. But I swear to you, if that is your sister in there, I won’t rest until I find who did this to her.’

I can’t speak. I turn and bury my head in his shoulder, allowing the hot tears to flow from my eyes.

Chapter Six Now

Weymouth, Dorset

‘Thanks for driving me back,’ I say, as the beautiful Dorset coastline creeps into view. It’s just coming up to six, and there is little light in the sky ahead. I feel emotionally drained from seeing Freddie finally released, Jack’s call, and then his conclusions about my sister; all I want now is the comfort of bed, and to put this day behind me.

Jack didn’t have to drive me all the way back here from Basingstoke, particularly considering he is already in Mila’s grandmother’s bad books, but I have to admit I’m grateful not to be left to my own thoughts on the arduous train journey home.

‘To be honest, you’re not the only reason I offered,’ he says, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

‘No?’

He turns his head fractionally, maybe feeling my eyes trying to burrow into his mind. Despite the empathy and comfort he’s offered since the hospital, it feels like this isn’t the Jack I’m used to speaking to; he’s withdrawn. No, it’s more than that. It’s as if he’s put some invisible shield around himself, and even his closest friends can’t get near enough to see beyond it. Or maybe I just previously imagined we were more intimate than we actually are. Thinking about the time we have spent together, it’s never been socially driven; there’s always been some underlying agenda – a case, my sister, Freddie – and now I’m not sure I’ve ever known the real Jack. Maybe this divide has always been there, and I’ve been naïve to think that his awkward grin is anything more than my own physical attraction.

‘I want to speak to Freddie,’ Jack finally says, returning his eyes to the road.

I know instinctively Jack’s planned chat won’t be a social call, and quite frankly Freddie doesn’t need to be reminded about the time he’s had to spend away – at least not on his first night out.

‘What about?’ I ask, as casually as I can manage.

He narrows his eyes, but doesn’t respond.

‘I’m not sure where Freddie will be,’ I say to break the enveloping silence. ‘You should have said that’s what you were intending and I would have phoned Freddie to see if he’s free. It’s his first night out; can it not wait until tomorrow?’

‘No.’

Despite my own fatigue, I’m not prepared to leave Freddie unprotected tonight. ‘Okay, well, if I know Freddie, he’ll be volunteering at the shelter’s kitchen. I’ll show you where it is.’

We don’t speak again until we near the former church hall with the leaky roof. Prior to the incident at Pendark Film Studios last year, Freddie had been planning a summer fête to raise funds to fix up the crumbling premises, but that had all fallen by the wayside when he’d been sentenced. The queue at the door is already into double figures as Jack parks his car at the side of the road and studies the parking meter.

‘There’s no charge at this time of year,’ I tell him as I get out and head towards the entrance.

‘What are you doing?’ he asks, hurrying after me.

‘I’m coming with you. Freddie is my friend and I promised I’d check in on him tonight, so unless you’re planning to arrest him and take him back to London, I’m staying.’

I don’t mean to sound so off-hand, but I have a horrible sinking feeling about how this talk is going to go, and I’m not prepared to take no for an answer.

Jack opens his mouth to argue