“It’s no longer a missing persons.”
Jonah tacked a photo of the remains McCullough had dug up alongside the school photo. “Aurora’s body was found buried under a tree next to the river less than a quarter of a mile from the campsite. Buried with her are some foil packets of Dexedrine, and it looks like there might have been more.”
He saw Lightman taking notes on an A4 pad. He might as well have been writing a Christmas card for all the emotional reaction. O’Malley was sitting back, looking between him and the images, his lined forehead creased up further. Jonah recognized the expression. It was the struggle to match up snatches of memory with the reality of the find. A legend come to life. Except that she was in no way alive.
“I want us to acquaint ourselves with the original investigation in full. I want notes and a summary of interviews, along with anyone and anything you feel has been missed. If you think there’s some evidence that’s not been followed up, note it. If you think they’ve done a piss-poor job, note that, too.”
Only Lightman managed to conceal his dislike of this plan. Or perhaps he didn’t dislike it. He was fond of facts and figures.
“Alongside that,” Jonah went on, “we’re going to be doing a full investigation from scratch. Redoing every single interview, focusing this time on those drugs, who moved them, and how she ended up overlooked despite being a few hundred yards from the camp.”
He could see O’Malley’s smile. This was more his cup of tea. He liked to interview, did former Captain O’Malley.
“For today, Juliette gets to come on interviews. I want to see the group who were out camping. Juliette, you can compile a list of addresses while I look at the Intelligence overview. I’d like Domnall and Ben to start going through the original case notes.”
O’Malley gave an audible sigh. “Thanks for this, Chief. I’d been feeling like my life’s lacking paperwork.”
Jonah smiled in response, but didn’t apologize.
“Were you part of the original investigation?” Hanson asked, glancing between Jonah and the board.
“Only just,” Jonah answered. “I was a fresh-faced constable back then. But I wanted to be involved. She went to the same school I did, though I was in the sixth form by the time she started. I knew her sister a bit, even if I didn’t really know Aurora.”
He glanced at her photo. Looking at Aurora’s glowing beauty brought back to him an uncomfortable feeling. She was a reminder of a particular night; of a confused series of actions that he’d been desperate to forget for thirty years.
He looked away from the photo. Remembering that now wouldn’t help him, or any of them.
Lightman put his pen away in his pocket and started to rise. “So this has priority over the docks investigation.”
“For the next forty-eight it has,” Jonah answered. “I’ll keep you posted after that. Look for mentions of substance abuse, or anything related,” he added to Lightman. “If any of them knew about that drugs stash, I want to know. And then I want to grill them again on everything they saw and heard. Because if she died three hundred feet from them, all those public appeals they made and all the searching for her look like a thirty-year charade.”
6
Aurora
Friday, July 22, 1983, 6:35 P.M.
Benners, Jojo, and Connor had met them as they made their way back from the beech tree. They looked hot and irritable, a mood that stepped up when they realized where Topaz had taken everyone.
It was mostly Benners, which surprised Aurora. She’d never seen him angry before. Topaz was always tetchy, and Connor not infrequently aggressive. But Benners had been brought up in the calm of benign, well-moneyed neglect. He was Titus Groan, or Sebastian Marchmain with a bit more sense of self.
He sent Jojo and Brett to find firewood, and then turned on Topaz.
“You shouldn’t have told him,” he said, his voice low but spiking into volume erratically. “There’s more at stake here than you impressing your latest crush.”
“That’s not what this is about.” Topaz’s cheeks grew red.
Benners ignored the reply. He looked down at her from his rangy six foot three. “We don’t know him, Topaz. Not like we know every other person here.”
“I’ve known him for years!” Topaz retorted. “I trust him.”
“This isn’t about who you trust!” Benners said, and then lowered his voice with an effort. “That stash is not your secret to share. It’s mine. And it’ll be me in the shit if this gets out.”
“It’s not going to get out.”
Connor lifted his head, his hands still in his pockets and his eyes hard. “I’d break his fucking arm if he talked. You can tell him. Tell him I’d break his fucking arm, and I’d enjoy it.”
Topaz rolled her eyes. “For God’s sake…”
Benners gave a sigh. “All right.” He was still angry. Still upset. Trying to be the calm one. “He doesn’t need threatening. Just let him know that we’re…all in this together. OK?”
“Fine.”
Topaz turned and stalked off, with Coralie at her heels. Her ever-present childlike shadow. Aurora knew her sister was about to launch into a rant. She’d heard it often enough out in the orchard at home, though it hadn’t usually been about Benners or Connor. During warm weekends, Topaz’s anger about someone who had offended her, and Coralie’s chiming in, had floated up through her bedroom window until Aurora had closed it or left the room.
Connor wasn’t trying so hard to be calm. “Brett’s got a fucking nerve, poking his nose in like that.” He kicked at the dry earth. His hands were clenched so that his forearms had ridges of tendon and muscle and vein on them.
“He’s just out for a good time,” Benners said. He rubbed his hair, which stood up in sweat spikes. “I’m sure he won’t let on. He’s not an idiot.”
“He is an idiot.”
Benners laughed. “I’m not talking educationally. I mean…he’s not going to get himself in trouble if he can help it.”
Connor grunted.
Benners glanced at Aurora, and away. It made her feel unusually awkward.
“You know…you know I won’t tell anyone either, don’t you?” she said.
Benners gave her a frown. “Of course I do. I’m not worried about you.”
It gave her a warm feeling. That trust of his.
“Good.”