Free Cherringham--A Lesson in Murder by Neil Richards

Hannah — if you are Sophie’s friend — you should tell me.”
    Then a slow nod. Hannah accepting the logic of it. The girl went to the door and closed it.
    “I — I don’t know if I should tell you. But all of this, I don’t really know what it means. Can you understand? And Sophie won’t either. But I’m scared for her.”
    The girl sat down on her bed. Sarah pulled a desk chair close, facing her.
    “Maybe if you tell me what you do know … it can help.”
    Hannah looked at Sarah. Took a breath.
    “Things got bad … scary. Each thing that happened, was worse than the one before.”
    Sarah not at all sure what Hannah meant.
    “And now, this thing about the train, Ms. Braithwaite? It all … makes sense …”
    And Sarah waited to hear just what that ‘sense’ could be.
    *
    “Rise and shine,” Jack said, just opening the door to the ramshackle caretaker’s cottage.
    Not much to look at outside, and inside it looked as though Tahir was simply letting food, dishes, clothes … build up into piles.
    Jack shut the door behind him.
    A few steps into an equally dingy bedroom.
    Tahir coming out of the shower, a towel wrapped around him.
    “Bloody hell, you again. What the—”
    “Hang on, Tahir. Felt we didn’t exactly have closure yesterday. Things … not exactly adding up?”
    “This is my place and it’s my day off, so if you don’t mind just get your yank ‘ass’ out of it!”
    Oh, Jack thought, I could have some fun with Tahir.
    Back in the day he never let any punk talk to him like that. Sometimes they needed a little … reminder to respect the NYPD shield.
    But here, Jack was just an independent citizen.
    Not even one from this country.
    “Got something you might want to know, Tahir. Thought it might inspire you to tell me more. About your life here. What you know. What you don’t.”
    That tease made Tahir hold his tongue.
    Then: “What is it? What do you think I want to know?”
    “Why not get dressed and we’ll talk out in your, um, living room. It’s something — trust me — that you’ll want to hear …”
    And Jack walked out to the small living room and removed an empty pizza box from a tattered easy chair while he waited for Tahir …
    … who not only had been given time to dress …but also — more importantly — time to think … time to worry.
    *
    “Hannah — if you know something about any of this … maybe now you should tell me.”
    The girl seemed tortured by the decision.
    But then, in a move that made Sarah think of her own Chloe when they had their big talk last night about important things, Hannah took a big breath … and just blurted it out.
    “Sophie was Ms. Braithwaite’s new special girl.”
    “Special. In what way, special?” said Sarah gently, already knowing the answer.
    Hannah shook her head, looked away for a moment, and then turned back to Sarah.
    The door now opened, it couldn’t be closed.
    “Ms. Braithwaite always had a favourite. Could be a big deal; help you get into the best Uni … really helpful.”
    Sarah felt it was best to not say anything.
    “But there were rumours. A lot of us felt … that it might involve more than simply being her favourite.”
    Hannah kept her eyes on Sarah.
    As if asking her to finish the idea …
    Because it was just too hard.
    “You’re saying that the relationship was more than being a helper?”
    A nod. “That’s what people said. Not me. But people got jealous. Said … said … bad things.”
    Then Sarah made the last connecting dot.
    “But this time, someone got hurt?”
    Another quick nod, and Sarah thought that Hannah was about to break down, start crying.
    Had to be hard holding this all in, with all these things happening in the school, and Braithwaite jumping—
    She stopped herself.
    Jumping in front of a train.
    “Hannah, who got hurt? Can you tell me?”
    Only now Hannah shook her head. “Talk to Sophie — okay?”
    A deep breath.
    Sarah nodded. Then she reached out and patted Hannah’s