She couldn’t turn her mind from that one thought, even though she knew she had to have hard facts before they could draw any conclusions. She’d eke out every bit of information from the experts, but she’d hold her belief.
Roger shrugged. She suspected he wasn’t the type to hazard unfounded guesses. ‘Nobody, it appears, was downstairs. They were all on the first floor, by the looks of it, at the moment. So, from what Charlie says, with the intensity, the start point of this fire appears to be on the first floor. Until we can DNA the bodies, we don’t know for sure who the victims are.’
Charlie nodded and turned to face the structure. ‘We don't want to make any assumptions just at the moment. This is a massive, massive job. We’ve sectioned it into four.’ He pointed up at the house with both hands spread wide, pen flicking in the air. ‘There. That's where the ceiling has collapsed.’ He held his left palm up and pointed to the other end of the building. ‘There, they’re saying that the floor hasn’t given way.’
Jenna nodded her agreement.
‘It’s going to take time. Weeks, possibly months, on a project this enormous.’ Roger skimmed his hand as he turned in a circle.
Mason stepped forward. ‘And if it’s arson, then we should be looking for somebody sooner rather than later.’
Cooler than she expected, Jenna quivered from the sudden chill. She tucked both hands into her jacket pockets and pushed them in deep. She stared at the tendrils of smoke coming up from the ground and gave a small shudder.
What a nightmare.
She squinted up at the building. ‘You know this falls in line with what Mrs Crawford said the night of the fire. That she'd heard gunshots. Gunshots from the house.’ Suspicion curdled in her stomach. ‘We’ll have to see what Salter and Wainwright come back with at the debrief, but I think we probably got as much as we could from Mrs Crawford the other night. She was quite a willing witness.’ She turned to Adrian. ‘We still don’t know any more. Except we have five bodies under very suspicious circumstances. It’s a mess. It’s a goddamn mess.’
36
Tuesday 21 April 0945 hours
Sophie’s eyes bulged with terror as she hop-stepped from one foot to the other like a first-year infant who’d left it too late to dash to the toilet.
Next to her, short, plump and middle-aged, her mother exuded a stoicism reflecting the character the girls had already portrayed of her and which Jenna could only admire.
Jenna showed no surprise to see the teenager but pushed the door of interview room three open. Rather than speak, she indicated with one hand for them to precede her so she could get them away from the overcrowded front desk. Almost a dozen people vied for attention to get their voices heard above everyone else’s in their bid to explain why the pile-up in the queue to turn left into the Council car park opposite Malinsgate station couldn’t possibly be their fault. A deep baritone, a high-pitched soprano, the drama of an opera. One Jenna wanted nothing to do with.
She pushed the door closed behind her, dulling the voices, but unable to block them completely.
Already settled in front of the small table, Mason came to his feet as they entered.
Jenna reached out a hand towards Sophie, noting the iciness of the young girl’s fingers. ‘Hi, Sophie. Good to see you.’ She turned to Sophie’s mum. ‘DS Jenna Morgan, DC Mason Ellis.’ She indicated Mason, who reached forward to take his turn with a handshake. ‘Mrs Maxwell?’
‘Trudy. Trudy Maxwell.’ Sophie’s mum exuded the understated, solid confidence of the wealthy businesswoman she undoubtedly was from her designer skirt suit, to the impeccable blonde highlighted hair and immaculately polished nails.
‘Please, take a seat.’
The chairs scraped across the floor as they settled at the small, square table while Jenna shuffled her notepad and placed a pen in front of her. She’d take notes that she considered necessary, but initially she needed to put the obviously terrified Sophie at ease.
Jenna leaned forward to rest her forearms on the table between them. Fingers loosely linked, she made eye contact with the young girl.
‘Sophie.’ She smiled at her. All teenage hysteria and excitement from their previous meeting had evaporated as Sophie reached for her mum's hand. Jenna could only admire the silent support Sophie's mother gave her, reflecting the personality the girls had hinted at previously. ‘I believe you have something you’d like to talk to me about?’ She injected her voice with a gentle evenness as she ran her gaze over the child in front of her, her keen eye taking in every detail. Pallid beneath the thick layers of her make-up, on-fleek eyebrows and bright pink lipstick stood out in stark contrast to the rest of her lovely face. Heavy black mascara emphasised the deep ocean blue of her eyes.
Sophie nodded, her chest expanding as she held her breath and took a moment to squeeze her mum’s hand, her fingers turning white at the pressure.
‘Mum says I need to tell you. It could be nothing. It could be something, but we think you need to know.’
Reluctant to rush her, Jenna kept her gaze steady on Sophie as the girl fluttered her free hand and then dipped it in her pocket to draw out her phone and place it on the table between them. She tapped one perfect acrylic nail on the screen and then touched a thumb to the ID button, so the screen lit up.
‘I know they say Poppy and her family are all… dead.’ She paused on a hiccup, gulping down so she could continue. ‘That they died in the fire.’ She blinked to wash away the fall of tears that had formed as she started to talk, her voice cracking on her next words. ‘But is it possible that she's alive? I think she may be.’
The question was a plea, a desperate hope.
Surprise shockwaved through Jenna, she’d not given thought to anyone but Gordon Lawrence being alive. Without taking her gaze from Sophie, she kept her face as impassive as possible. If she over-sympathised, she could end up with drama she didn’t need. She needed facts.
‘What makes you think that, Sophie?’ Sympathy rolled through her at the desperate desire in Sophie’s eyes for it to be true. A desire that Jenna had no choice but to keep in check.
‘Because I think she tried to contact me through our WhatsApp group. We have this group…’ Sophie pushed herself forward to the edge of her uncomfortable chair in her enthusiasm to get her point over. ‘We have several, but we have one just for us four girls. Me, Olivia, Chanel and Poppy. Because we’re best friends and we’re always together.’ Impassioned, she rushed the words out and Jenna nodded.
‘Okay. So, what happened on this WhatsApp group to make you believe Poppy is alive?’
Sophie turned the phone around so that Jenna could see the screen. ‘Last night after we’d all been chatting about Poppy and her family and how…’ She hesitated and took in a swift draught of air. ‘How awful it was and how we couldn’t believe Poppy could possibly be dead. It was late and I didn’t want to disturb Mum because…’ She slanted her mum a guilty glance, ‘…she was supposed to have an early start this morning and I knew she’d be able to hear me, so we changed to messages from video call. After than Olivia and Chanel went to bed. I couldn’t sleep and I scrolled back through the messages. I tapped on Poppy’s name just…’ She shrugged. ‘I don't know why, just for comfort, I guess, just to see her… to look at her profile, her face. I just wanted to see her again…’ A sob caught in her throat as she stumbled to a halt. Tears formed in her eyes, threatening to spill over the thick black layer of her mascara. Sophie raised a shaking hand to press her fingertips underneath and one large teardrop rolled down her finger onto the back of her hand.