Читать книгу Tick Tock: The gripping new crime thriller from the million copy bestseller - Mel Sherratt - Страница 20

It was half past seven at night when Grace arrived back at Dunwood Academy. News had got around throughout the day, and now there were people of all ages gathering both in and around the school gates.

Grace always liked to step into the community when she could. See who was saying what and about whom. Often a snippet of conversation could turn into a nugget of information. Sometimes that’s all it took. So that’s why going to the youth club was a necessity. Besides, she wanted to help if she could. She knew what it was like to suffer the loss of someone close.

She passed bouquets and single flowers, propped up next to each other on the railings. Candles had been lit and scattered around, in between a few teddy bears. But it was the handmade cards and messages that brought a lump to Grace’s throat. Some of these children would never forget this incident in their lifetime. Especially the ones who were closest to Lauren Ansell.

So many flowers in a row reminded her of Matt’s funeral. Even though they’d asked for donations for the local hospice he’d been taken to for his last days, there had still been lots of tributes. Because he was so young and dying of a terminal illness, it had been quite a big crowd. A lot of people had known him when he’d passed away.

Matt had wanted everyone, including herself, to wear his favourite football team’s shirt or red T-shirts and to take lots of selfies with Grace. It had made for some happier memories of a sad day.

Pushing thoughts of Matt to the back of her mind, she tried to put herself into the students’ position. What it must be like to lose a classmate, a friend at sixteen years old. Long-term friendships were made at that delicate age. She could remember being the new girl when she and her mum had left Stoke when she was twelve. Everyone had already paired off with a best mate or groups to hang around in. She didn’t fit in anywhere. Of course she’d made friends eventually, but not any special ones. She was often guarded, never wanting to get close to anyone. She supposed that was owing to her background, having had a very abusive childhood.

Yet, even though there would be people milling around tomorrow, the next week, the following month, Grace realised that most of the people in the crowd – particularly the ones who weren’t close to Lauren Ansell – would have forgotten her soon and gone back to their normal lives. Just that in itself showed how precious life was, that it could be taken from you in an instant, and the world ticked on regardless. But you could still become a star for a day because of how you’d died.

Grace stepped around a woman hugging a teenager to her chest as the girl sobbed. There were two other girls next to her, crying silently as they stooped down to read the messages. Ahead, a lone male stood back, an angry expression on his face.

Was the killer amongst the people watching? Some suspects liked to be near to the scene of the crime afterwards; others wanted to be as far away as possible, only looking on from a distance via social media channels and the TV.

She glanced around, taking everyone in as she walked, hands in pockets, hoping not to stand out as a cop. She’d worn her hair down and had ditched her suit jacket for the denim one that was always in the boot of the car. She’d freshened up her make-up, too.

Finally at the gates, she paused for a moment. Hands behind her back, she stood in silence looking at the images of Lauren Ansell. One photograph showed a young woman who had everything to look forward to. Her eyes were smiling, dancing even, and there was a mischievous grin on her face. It wasn’t the usual school photo. It had been taken when she was somewhere hot. Grace could see a beach in the background, lights shining on the sea. Lauren was tanned, happy and smiling. She hoped her parents remembered her like that once the grief had gone.

‘You’re the cop I saw this morning, aren’t you?’ a voice said behind her.

Grace turned to see a teenage boy, tall, short dark hair, with an array of spots on his forehead. His wary eyes were flitting around before they finally landed on her.

‘Yes, I was here earlier,’ she replied. ‘And you are?’

‘Lewis Granger.’

‘Did you know Lauren?’

‘We were in the same class.’ He looked down the road and then thrust his hands in his pockets as he turned back. ‘I’m going to miss her.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. Did she get on with everyone?’

‘Yeah, she was good company. We hung around together.’

‘She seemed very popular from what I’ve seen.’ Grace threw a thumb over her shoulder. ‘I’m going to the youth club. Is that where you’re heading?’

He nodded. ‘I’m waiting for my mate to turn up.’

‘I’ll see you in there.’

As she walked off, he spoke again.

‘It seems weird, someone I know dying.’

She turned back to him. ‘There will be counselling available from the school when it reopens. It’s going to be tough for a while.’

Grace waited for him to speak again but when he stayed silent she walked away. She wondered if he’d searched her out for a reason, or maybe he’d noticed her arrival.

With her mind working overtime, she went inside.