in. ‘He hasn’t seen anyone hanging around lately, but he did say that lots of runners use it, walkers too, even though it’s private property, so he probably wouldn’t have noticed anyway.’
‘Unless he happened on the class, our killer must have got the information from someone.’ Nick nodded. ‘We don’t have much to go on yet, except a load of statements from teens who were running ahead of them.’
‘Where does the lane lead to?’ Grace pushed back her chair and got up to look at the map of Stoke-on-Trent that was on the wall by the side of the whiteboard.
Perry joined her, standing at her side.
‘It goes for about half a mile with farmland either side of it and then it comes to a T-junction.’ He tapped a finger on it. ‘There’s barely a handful of properties up there – the rest is green.’
‘And none of them saw anyone lurking around in the area?’ Nick questioned.
‘Nothing yet,’ Grace told him, checking through her notes. ‘We have more people to interview, though. There were so many of them – a lot were upset and some were picked up early. It will take most of tomorrow to speak to them all. Also, who would know about the cross-country run?’ she pondered. ‘Another pupil? Another teacher? Another regular runner? Or could it be a parent of one of the children who’d let it be known they were doing cross-country?’
‘I hated cross-country.’ Sam pointed at Grace. ‘I don’t know how anyone wants to run full stop.’
Grace smiled. She knew lots of her friends felt the same, but she loved the freedom of running. She couldn’t not run now. She enjoyed the quiet it gave her mind to work things out, the discipline to train to improve, pushing herself to aim higher with each session. It was frustrating that she still suffered from insomnia, something that no one in the team knew she had, but secretly she was pleased it gave her more time to run.
Insomnia was something left over from the days of Matt’s illness. The amount of times she’d lain by his side in the middle of the night, afraid to go to sleep in case he wasn’t alive the next day. The days that turned into nights at the end of his life, where she didn’t know dark from light. The weeks, months and now years that she’d failed to get into a regular sleep pattern again, more to do with her loneliness and grief. It was getting better now that she was with Simon, but at times it was as bad as those earlier days.
‘Sam’s keeping an eye on anything coming in from the press release and I expect we’ll be doing a further update this afternoon.’ Nick turned to look at Grace. ‘Keep the pressure up on speaking to people today. We need to build as big a picture as we can about Lauren, plus get a timeline of her movements before she died. The post-mortem should be with us early in the morning, hopefully.’
‘We’ll be going back to the school first thing too,’ Grace continued.
‘It’s staying open?’ Frankie frowned.
‘Only for us,’ Nick enlightened him. ‘Now that the mobile unit is set up, we can take first statements there and bring anyone into the station if we need to question them further.’
‘The youth club is still being held this evening,’ Grace added. ‘It doesn’t seem very respectful, but I can understand. The kids might need someone to talk to.’
‘They might open up if they’re all together on their own,’ Nick agreed.
‘They might. But there is the danger that they’ll hear things from others that they didn’t really see and then take those ideas as their own.’ Grace paused. ‘Do you think I should be in attendance? Or do you think I’m best having a word with Jason Tranter in the morning, see if he overheard anything, or was told something useful?’ She looked to Nick for advice. ‘How’s it best to play it, do you think?’
‘Difficult to tell.’ Nick ran a hand over his chin. ‘If we wade in, he might clam up. Maybe we should see what he gets out of the pupils first.’
Grace nodded. ‘I’ll let him know. How long has he worked at the school, Perry?’
‘Five years. He’s a local, too.’
‘What does he teach?’ Nick questioned.
‘Art. He seems okay, had the kids’ welfare at heart, but I’m keeping an open mind.’
‘As long as it’s not a cover-up like the Soham murders,’ Nick almost growled. ‘Seemed as though Ian Huntley had the kids’ interests at heart and look how that ended.’
Grace shuddered involuntarily, knowing she wouldn’t have liked to work on that case. Then she paused, feeling an overwhelming need to do whatever it took to bring down the person or persons who had done this.
‘On second thoughts, sir, I’d like to go to the youth club this evening.’
It was half past seven at night when Grace arrived back at Dunwood Academy. News had got around throughout the day, and now there were people of all ages gathering both in and around the school gates.
Grace always liked to step into the community when she could. See who was saying what and about whom. Often a snippet of conversation could turn into a nugget of information. Sometimes that’s all it took. So that’s why going to the youth club was a necessity. Besides, she wanted to help if she could. She knew what it was like to suffer the loss of someone close.
She passed bouquets and single flowers, propped up next to each other on the railings. Candles had been lit and scattered around, in between a few teddy bears. But it was the handmade cards and messages that brought a lump to Grace’s throat. Some of these children would never forget this incident in their lifetime. Especially the ones who were closest to Lauren Ansell.
So many flowers in a row reminded her of Matt’s funeral. Even though they’d asked for donations for the local hospice he’d been taken to for his last days, there had still been lots of tributes. Because he was so young and dying of a terminal illness, it had been quite a big crowd. A lot of people had known him when he’d passed away.
Matt had wanted everyone, including herself, to wear his favourite football team’s shirt or red T-shirts and to take lots of selfies with Grace. It had made for some happier memories of a sad day.
Pushing thoughts of Matt to the back of her mind, she tried to put herself into the students’ position. What it must be like to lose a classmate, a friend at sixteen years old. Long-term friendships were made at that delicate age. She could remember being the new girl when she and her mum had left Stoke when she was twelve. Everyone had already paired off with a best mate or groups to hang around in. She didn’t fit in anywhere. Of course she’d made friends eventually, but not any special ones. She was often guarded, never wanting to get close to anyone. She supposed that was owing to her background, having had a very abusive childhood.
Yet, even though there would be people milling around tomorrow, the next week, the following month, Grace realised that most of the people in the crowd – particularly the ones who weren’t close to Lauren Ansell – would have forgotten her soon and gone back to their normal lives. Just that in itself showed how precious life was, that it could be taken from you in an instant, and the world ticked on regardless.
