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

least six inches taller than Jack, the skin beneath his eyes aged but taut. He extends a large hand and shakes mine firmly. ‘Great to meet you, Emma; my wife’s a big fan of your books. She keeps on at me that I should read them, but I just never have the time. Thanks for coming down here today.’

I’ve actually come up, but I don’t see the need to correct him. ‘Happy to help in any way I can. What’s going on? What was so urgent?’

Dainton looks at Jack to take over and he nods, leading me towards the back of the room, whilst Dainton restarts his whispered conversation with the other man in the hard hat. This second man is wearing a mustard and charcoal chequered shirt and a thick gilet and, given the girth of his gut, I would assume is the foreman of the site. They are back pointing at the map again.

I can see from the way Jack looks at Dainton that there is great respect there.

‘He seems nice,’ I say with a shrug.

‘We’re lucky to have him leading this investigation, that’s for sure,’ Jack whispers, as if trying to spare Dainton’s blushes. ‘And he’s going places. Plays golf with former Met Police Commissioner Sir Anthony Tomlinson as well.’

‘What’s all this about, Jack?’ I ask quietly, when we’re as far from the other two as we can be. ‘I haven’t heard from you in months, and then out of the blue you phone and ask me to come back here.’

He lowers his eyes. ‘I’m sorry about that. Things have been manic, what with work and Chrissie being in hospital; I just feel like I’ve been chasing my tail. I’ve meant to call and see how you are, but… I’m sorry.’

Chrissie is Jack’s ex, and mum to their eight-year-old daughter Mila, of whom they share custody. Born out of wedlock to two teenagers who thought nothing could separate them, Mila lives with Jack two days each week, and with her mum and stepfather the rest of the time. Given the number of horror stories I’ve heard about separated couples, Jack and Chrissie are on great terms.

‘Wait, what? What happened to Chrissie?’ I ask, picking up on the only point that mattered in his statement.

‘She was rushed to hospital just before Christmas and gave birth three months premature. The poor tyke has been in the prenatal unit ever since. It’s been tough on them, and on Mila, not knowing whether her new little brother will pull through or not. Sorry, I guess this is all news to you. It’s been a crazy few months. I’ve been trying to help out with Mila as much as I can so that they’re able to spend as much time at the hospital as they need.’

Overwhelming guilt swamps my mind; to think I was assuming Jack’s radio silence had something to do with his unrequited (well, almost) feelings for me.

‘Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry, I had no idea you had all that going on. You should have called; I’d have been happy to help in any way I could.’

‘Thanks, but we’re coping, just about. But when I’m not with Mila, I’m at the office in Vauxhall. And then all this blows up at the worst possible time.’

My mind snaps back to the small hut in the middle of a construction site. ‘Well, what is all this? What was so urgent you needed me here now?’

He glances over his shoulder at Dainton before returning to me and keeping his voice low. ‘As you may have noticed, the site is being redeveloped, but all that work has had to stop as of this morning. While they were digging to lay new foundations, a suitcase was discovered beneath the ground containing human remains. They’ve been taken away for examination and the dig site is being surveyed by a team of forensic specialists, though judging by the style and age of the case, it’s been down there for a number of years.’

At least that puts Freddie in the clear, but what does that mean for the investigation into the nefarious activities undertaken at these studios?

‘I was hoping you might share all your notes from your original interviews with Freddie Mitchell? We’re trying to piece together timelines, and I also want to speak to Freddie directly to see if he recalls anything about his time here that might help us identify other individuals in addition to the people who brought him here from the boys’ home.’

‘I’ll have to check that Freddie is happy for me to hand the notes over, but assuming that he is, sure I’m happy to send over everything I’ve got, so long as they’re returned to me at some point.’

‘That’s great, Emma. Thank you. Do you happen to know when Freddie is due to be released from HMP Winchester? I don’t want to go to the hassle of speaking to the visitation office, only to miss him.’

‘He was released this morning. That’s where I was when you phoned.’

‘He’s out now?’ He glances out of the portacabin window. ‘He’s not with you now, is he?’

I shake my head. ‘I left him on a train back to Weymouth. He should be there in the next hour or so.’

Jack looks at his watch. ‘Perfect! Maybe I can see him today and give you a lift home in the process. Does that work for you?’

He’s going at a hundred miles an hour and I’m struggling to keep up. ‘Yeah, I guess, but why did you need me here to say all this? You could have asked me over the phone for my notes; what was so important I come here?’

Jack closes his eyes, and takes a moment to compose himself. ‘The human remains that were found… The pathologist believes they belong to a female aged between thirteen and fifteen, based on bone development… There’s a chance they belong to your sister.’

Chapter Four Then

Piddlehinton, Dorset

The car’s brakes squeaked as the vehicle careered along the