table for a moment before her eyes came up again. ‘He could easily have run up the lane after us and been hiding.’
‘He wouldn’t do that!’ Caitlin insisted.
Perry raised his hand as they began to babble, but Nathan, who’d stayed quiet until this point, piped in.
‘By Jason, do you mean Mr Tranter?’ When Caitlin nodded, he turned to Perry. ‘Mr Tranter is a teacher here.’
Perry instantly thought back to the previous murder case they had worked on. One of the murdered men had been a lecturer at Staffordshire College and had groomed several of his female students for sex. He hoped this wasn’t going to be a repeat of that. Trying to hide a frown, he made a note to look into Tranter further after the meeting.
‘He gets on well with you all?’ he asked the girls.
Courtney nodded, but she wouldn’t look at Perry. By now, it was clear to him which twin had the most influence over the other.
‘Was Jason friendly with anyone else?’ he asked.
‘He’s friendly with everyone,’ Caitlin said, folding her arms.
Perry paused for a moment. ‘Do you think Lauren had a crush on him?’
‘She was going out with Thomas!’ Courtney cried. ‘She’s not a tart.’
‘And Jason’s lovely,’ Caitlin insisted. ‘He’s supportive and looks out for us all.’
‘Looks out for you, you mean,’ Courtney muttered.
‘No, he looks out for everyone!’ Caitlin repeated.
‘Well, you can’t take your eyes off him and you knew Lauren liked him!’
‘Girls, please!’ Nathan held up a hand.
Perry threw the headmaster a faint smile. These were tactics to stop the twins talking about their friend; perhaps they would be worried about getting into trouble regardless of if they had or hadn’t been involved. It was human nature to stress.
He stood up. He hadn’t come out of the conversation any the wiser and they needed to question them more diligently with another adult besides Nathan. He’d wait to speak to them individually when their parents arrived.
As he left the room, he spotted Simon Cole in the car park. Simon was the senior crime reporter on the local newspaper and, more recently, he and Grace had become an item. He wandered over to him. Perhaps Simon could put something in tonight’s edition of the Stoke News that could warn everyone to stay vigilant for now, but not enough to alarm.
What a thin line to tread.
Grace was back in Nick’s car. Emma Gillespie had left hers at work and he was driving them to the family home. Grace tried to drown out the sobs of the woman sitting behind her.
In the picturesque village of Stanley, they turned into Puddy Lane. Nick slowed down to pass two riders on horses and then pulled into the garden of a cottage-style dormer bungalow that seemed to have undergone a huge renovation. Benefitting from cream rendering and sage-coloured windows, it looked a quirky place to call home. A terrace at the front overlooked fields, sheep frolicking in the one next to them making Grace envious. She wanted to marvel and say what a lovely place to live, but it wasn’t the time.
A man she assumed to be Alan Gillespie was waiting in the doorway. He ran out of the house as soon as they arrived. Emma fell into his arms and sobbed.
Grace found herself looking away for a moment. Things like this still upset her, making her think of her own loss. As well as losing her mother in 2017, she had been a widow for two years when she’d arrived in Stoke-on-Trent. Her husband, Matt, had been diagnosed with acute myeloid leukaemia in 2013, and although nearly three years had passed since his death in 2016, she was still getting over it. She was still grieving for him, but with her new partner’s help, she’d been healing the gap left behind.
Nick and Grace gave the couple time to comfort each other and then followed them inside. Emma had dropped to her knees at the foot of the stairs. In her arms, she clutched a hooded jumper that had been hanging on a coat hook.
‘She was my baby,’ she sobbed. ‘Why would anyone do that to her?’
‘Let’s get you seated in the living room,’ Alan said, wiping his cheeks. ‘We need to be strong now, give the police as much information as they need to catch the bastard that …’ His voice broke as he helped Emma to her feet.
Once everyone was seated, Nick began to question them.
‘Are you aware of anyone who might have wanted to harm your daughter?’ he asked. ‘Was she having any problems? Maybe her friends, or a boyfriend?’
Emma shook her head. ‘She seemed happy. I don’t think anything was bothering her.’
‘Did she get on with her father?’
‘Yes. She visited him every other Friday and stayed over until Saturday evening. We had quite an amicable split. We’d just grown apart. He’s a good man.’
‘Could we have a look around her room?’ Nick asked eventually after covering everything necessary.
‘She isn’t hiding anything,’ Emma told him. ‘She hasn’t even experimented with drugs, nor had a cigarette.’
‘To our knowledge,’ Alan admitted. ‘She’s a good girl, but like any of us at that age, she could be telling us one thing but doing something completely different.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ said Emma.
‘Nothing.’ Alan looked sheepish. ‘I’m trying to understand what’s happened. Lauren went to school. She should have been safe there! I want to see the headmaster, demand an enquiry.’
‘All in good time,’ Grace tried to appease him. ‘You need someone to blame – I understand that. But please, you also need to stay strong for each other.’
‘What do you know?’ Emma snapped. ‘You can’t even tell us who killed her!’
‘We’re gathering evidence as quickly as possible.’ Nick nodded at Grace, who took it as her cue to stand up.
‘Her room, Mrs Gillespie?’
‘It’s the second door on the right upstairs,’ she replied. ‘I … I don’t want to go in there just yet.’
Grace shook her head. ‘You don’t have to. I promise I will be careful.’
Lauren Ansell’s bedroom was fitted out in silver, white and purple. Lilac curtains were half open, as if she’d left in a rush that morning, the duvet on the bed pulled back haphazardly. There was a pile of clothes on a chair underneath the window and a stack of shoes by the skirting board. The air was full of the scent of deodorant and perfume.
A
