Discarded M. Hunter (the snowy day read aloud TXT) 📖

know for certain that Cormack is buried in that grave. The bunch of flowers is hardly conclusive.’

I don’t like that Jack is undermining our assertion that Tomlinson is involved; I’m sure Rawani is capable of debunking the theory without Jack’s help. I try to ignore his doubts because I know he’s only playing devil’s advocate.

‘We know that Turgood spent time at Pendark Film Studios from Freddie Mitchell’s testimony, and we know that Peter Saltzing had dealings with Turgood at the St Francis Home from the newspaper cuttings we found, and he oversaw the burial of Jean-Claude Ribery in Hayling Island. Whoever sent the pictures of Faye and Cormack wants me to follow this road, and this latest photograph leads us to Tomlinson. I’m not saying it’s enough to arrest him, nor to even present our findings to the squad that handles police corruption, but I do think it warrants further investigation.’

Rawani sits back in his chair, his eyes moving so quickly it’s almost imperceptible. ‘You have nothing else?’

I look to Jack, hoping he can talk in a language that will help Rawani understand that we both feel this is right in our guts, even if we have nothing tangible to support it, but he remains silent.

‘An accusation like that, with nothing to support it, will mean dismissal, Jack, do you understand that? And for you, Miss Hunter, you’d probably spend the next decade in civil court for libel. The ramifications would be enormous.’ He pauses again, before turning to Jack. ‘Why did you bring this to me? Why not take it to your boss at the NCA? Harry Dainton is heading up your investigation, is he not?’

‘He’s good friends with Sir Anthony, sir. They were playing golf together only yesterday. I thought it best to wait until we have something more solid before speaking to him.’

Rawani doesn’t look impressed. ‘And what did you think I would do about it?’

Jack opens his mouth to speak before thinking better of it.

‘We need help,’ I speak up. ‘This is bigger than Jack and me, but we don’t know who to trust and how to approach something like this. We came to you because you aren’t part of any boys’ club or masonic lodge. You believe in doing things by the book, and I imagine you’ve seen enough examples of internal corruption to know the best path to steer us towards. We need someone we can trust.’

I don’t think Rawani is one who bends to flattery, but I mean every word.

He stands and tucks the chair beneath his desk. ‘I have another meeting across town that I need to attend. Tell me something: aside from this Faye McKenna’s remains being discovered in Newbury, do you have anything else to link her to what was going on there at the site?’

Jack and I look at each other before simultaneously shrugging.

Rawani straightens his tie. ‘If you could tie Faye and Cormack to the videos found on Turgood’s drive, that would put you a step closer to linking their deaths to this potential ring or syndicate, or however you want to refer to it.’

‘We could have the photos you were sent compared to the video footage,’ Jack says to me.

Rawani picks up a briefcase from behind his desk. ‘Do that and then meet me back here at one o’clock.’

He opens the door and holds it until we realise it is our cue to leave. Locking the door, Rawani moves around us without another word, and to any casual observer it would be as if he didn’t even know we were here. Jack directs me along the narrow corridor before diving into a small kitchen room, closing the door behind him.

‘Have you still got the images on your phone?’

I nod and unlock the screen to show him.

‘Good. Can you forward those to me? We’ll go to my office in Vauxhall and have the pictures checked against what was taken from the videos.’

‘But won’t that take days rather than hours?’

Jack shakes his head. ‘The team examining the footage have captured cut-outs of every face for quicker comparison. They can now run any picture against the selection in a matter of minutes. We’ll know one way or another before the end of today.’

Chapter Thirty-Nine Now

Uxbridge, London

‘Why didn’t you back me in there?’ I ask Jack once we’re in his car and underway.

He lowers the volume of the stereo. ‘What do you mean?’

‘With Rawani… I thought we were on the same page regarding Tomlinson’s involvement, but as soon as we got in there, you started backtracking.’

‘That’s not what I was doing. I was being pragmatic and keeping my personal feelings out of it. You don’t know the DCS like I do. He isn’t one for gut instincts and sixth sense. For him, it’s black or it’s white, and there is no middle ground. If we actually had anything tantamount to evidence against Tomlinson, he would have sanctioned the arrest warrant himself.’

I lower my window for air. ‘I wish you’d warned me that was the stance you were going to take. It felt like I’d imagined our discussion in Maddie’s office.’

Out of the corner of my eye, I see his head turn towards me. ‘I’m sorry if that’s the way I made you feel; it certainly wasn’t my intention.’

I keep my eyes fixed on the window so he won’t see the tension in my face. ‘So where do you really stand on the Tomlinson situation? Is he involved? What does your intuition tell you?’

Jack’s head turns back to the road, but he is quiet for several seconds before replying. ‘Ever since I read Freddie’s story in Monsters Under the Bed, I’ve suspected collusion at some level. Those kinds of accusations levied at a children’s home don’t disappear without pressure from somewhere. It’s not like it was in the 60s when enough money could silence even the loudest critic. Freddie’s original claims were made in the 90s when the world was more switched on to the kind of abuses