Page 48 of The Guilty Girl

‘Do you need to use the bathroom?’

‘No.’

‘Knock on the door if you need to go.’

‘Whatever.’ Hannah stared at her hands. ‘Why don’t you just ask me what it is you want to ask?’

‘Because you were ill, there are certain procedures to be followed.’ Much as Lottie would love to ask about the photograph and the incident Cormac had revealed, she couldn’t. It must be done properly. She also knew she couldn’t detain the girl indefinitely.

‘I’ve been trying to remember stuff. Bits and pieces are coming back to me, but it’s all so fuzzy. I’m sure Jake must have slipped something into my drink. Can’t you talk to him?’

‘We’re having trouble locating him.’

‘Did you speak to Cormac? He’d know.’

‘I did.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Sorry, Hannah, I can’t tell you that.’

‘Well then you have to find Jake. He poured a Coke for me. It has to be his fault. I’m an athlete and I care about what I put in my body. It’s not my fault if someone drugged me.’ Hannah’s shoulders slumped as all the fight left her body, and she wrapped her arms around herself, as if that could fend off the trouble she was in. In her sorry state, she looked about seven rather than seventeen.

‘I’m sorry, Hannah. As much as I want to discuss the events of last night with you, you’re a minor and my hands are tied until you’re passed fit for questioning. Sit tight, and I’ll see what the issue is with the doctor. If you need anything, just ask.’

‘All I want is to go home, shower and sleep.’

You and me both, Lottie thought.

24

Sean pedalled as slowly as he could without falling off his bike. He needed to get his story straight before being interviewed. The longer it went on without him telling his mother that he’d gone back to Lucy’s last night, that he’d seen the body and heard someone talking, the harder it was going to be. He was sure she would be taken off the investigation.

Shifting the rucksack on his back with his granny’s groceries, he tried to rid his mind of the image of Lucy’s broken body. Impossible. It remained behind every blink of his eyes, tormenting him. Who could have been that vicious? And who had he heard talking? The killers? He nearly fell off the bike. Could his evidence shift the direction of the investigation? He’d ask Granny Rose for advice.

He propped his bike against the side wall and entered through the back door into the kitchen, resolved, knowing his granny would tell him how to handle it.

‘There you are, Sean. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re a saint on a bike.’

He forced a smile, because if he didn’t, he thought he might cry. He began to put away the groceries.

‘You don’t look well, Gran. Have you a cold?’

‘I look a lot better than you, son. Not sleeping? A glass of warm milk before bed does the trick. Or hot cocoa. I have a tin somewhere. I’ll get it for you.’

She got up from her wing-backed chair and fussed around, opening and closing cupboards.

‘It’s okay, Gran.’

‘Oh, here it is. Now a spoon of that in hot milk and you’ll sleep like a baby.’

Sean stared at the tin. He hadn’t the heart to tell her it was Bisto gravy. ‘Thanks. I’ll try it tonight, but I won’t be partying again for a while.’

‘Partying? I’m glad you’re getting out and about. All those computer machine yokes aren’t good for you. It’s time you got yourself a little woman.’ She sat back in her chair by the fire and pulled a blanket up over her knees. ‘Do you have a girlfriend? Or maybe a boyfriend? I’m not as narrow-minded as your mother would have you believe.’

Sean sat in front of her. ‘I’m in a spot of trouble, Gran.’

‘She’s not pregnant, is she? Don’t tell your mother.’

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