Chapter Five Now
Newbury, Berkshire
‘My sister?’ I clarify, my brain unable to comprehend. ‘You think the bones are Anna’s? No. No way. They can’t be.’
We’ve stepped out of the hut for fresh air, but my cheeks are flushed and my body is telling me I could throw up or pass out at any minute.
Jack fixes me with a pained stare, forcing eye contact. ‘We don’t know for sure, but given the victim’s age, the fact we know your sister was probably here when she was that old, and given the age of the suitcase the remains were discovered in… I’m not saying it’s definitely her, but there is a chance. That’s why I thought I should tell you in person.’
I stumble backwards as my knees threaten to give way. For so many years I’ve refused to acknowledge the likelihood that Anna is dead. She’s my big sister, and I won’t accept it until I know for sure. I’ve felt in my heart that she has to still be out there somewhere. Hearing Jack daring to even mention the possibility that I’ve been wrong for so long is enough to make my blood boil.
‘No, Jack,’ I repeat. ‘You’re wrong. It’s not her; not my Anna.’
The poor guy doesn’t know which way to look. ‘Oh, well, no, of course, I’m sure you’re right, but in any event, I wanted you to know what we’d found. God knows, had Freddie not torched the place last year, this victim might have remained undiscovered for many more years.’
It’s such a morbid thought. I’m not sure what I believe in terms of God and afterlives, but there’s something quite horrific in thinking of my remains lying unfound for eternity. Can a soul ever be at peace if not laid to rest properly? It’s hard to believe in a merciful God when you’ve seen some of the things I have.
A fresh thought smacks me across the face. ‘Is this the only suitcase you found? I mean, if there’s one victim, couldn’t there be more. . .?’
Jack looks away but I see him nodding. ‘It’s a possibility. We’re going to have some specialist equipment brought over in the morning to check the rest of the grounds. Do you remember when we had to have the ground scanned at the Bovington army barracks in search of Sally Curtis?’
‘Sure.’
‘Well, that same team are going to work with the building crew here to systematically clear and check the land with their X-ray type machines. That’s what my boss Harry Dainton was speaking to the foreman about. It’s going to take time to check the whole site, but you know what they say about smoke and fire. It’s easily going to set the development of the site back by months.’
I’m suddenly conscious that I could be standing over the remains of any number of victims and I desperately want to be anywhere else.
‘We had the suitcase and remains moved to the local morgue for examination,’ Jack says quietly. ‘I was going to head over there in a bit and wait to hear the results. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t invite the victim’s potential family with me, but if you’d like to come, I could do with the company. I understand if you’d rather not.’
‘No, I need to,’ I say, my head snapping up to meet his gaze. ‘I have to know one way or the other.’
The mortuary in question is at the Basingstoke and North Hampshire Hospital, thirty minutes away from the site of what was once Pendark Film Studios. The journey is made in silence, with neither of us comfortable making small talk given the enormity of what is hanging over us. It isn’t just having to accept that I have lost the big sister who was my source of knowledge and experience when I was finding my way in the world; it also throws a huge question mark over everything I’ve done with my life since that day we lost her.
Finding Anna has been my reason for living: it’s why I went into journalism to begin with – to right the wrongs that others couldn’t; it’s why I accepted Lord Templeton Fitzhume’s offer to create the Anna Hunter Foundation; it’s why I haven’t had much of a social life; why I haven’t felt the urge to settle down and start a family of my own. I haven’t been able to rest knowing that every passing minute is another minute of me not finding my sister. The prospect that I have wasted all that time and energy doesn’t sit well, and that is why I won’t accept Jack’s theory until I hear it confirmed by indisputable DNA evidence.
The forensic pathologist isn’t ready for us when we arrive at the mortuary in the basement of the hospital. Jack suggests we grab a bite to eat as it’s nearing dinnertime, but I have no appetite for food. We settle for a beaker of ice-cold water from the dispenser in the corridor, before we both sit on the squeaky plastic chairs just outside the secured doors. The air is musty and stale down here and so I focus on breathing through my mouth instead of my nose.
Jack looks over at me. ‘It might not be her,’ he offers in an attempt to calm me, but there’s no confidence in his tone.
It makes me wonder how long he’s suspected Anna might be dead. I’ve known Jack for nearly two years, since our paths were meshed together when I was asked to look into the disappearance of six-year-old Cassie Hilliard. It took me a while to trust him enough to spill the details of Anna’s disappearance, and all this time I thought he shared in my belief that she’s still alive, but now I don’t think I can be certain of anything where he is concerned. And to think I actually considered we could have some kind of romantic future together.
Jack stands suddenly
