Page 47 of Dream a Little Dream

Aaron didn’t move.

“Seminar.” Kenny slipped his bag on his shoulder, then scooted around him toward the exit. “Now!”

He then bolted out to the corridor, footsteps echoing off the cold, tiled floor. The heavy door clanged behind him, creating a final closure on his insanity, and he burst out into the sharp autumn air. Students milled about, and Kenny cut through them, breath already coming fast as he darted past the Halls of Residence, heart rate elevating again, this time not with the lureof fascination but with why Jack had called him. Why Jack was here. And why he’d asked to him meet him in the woodland stretch.Officially.

The winding path led him toward the back, where the open gate beckoned him from the safety of the campus into the dense woodland. He fumbled for his phone, opening WhatsApp and pulling up the location pin Jack had sent him. It wasn’t far, and he quickened his pace, trees closing in as he left the last traces of the bustling university behind to be swallowed into the natural expanse where the river’s murmur grew louder, swirling currents visible through gaps in the foliage.

Kenny jogged along the narrow path, weaving through the trees and tangled undergrowth. Up ahead, the landscape opened up, and he caught sight of a flurry of activity just beyond the tree line. The white of forensic suits stood out against the dark backdrop of the woodland, and the soft hum of voices and radios reached his ears.

“Fuck.” He tucked his phone back in his pocket.

Official indeed.

This was a crime scene. The air was thick with it. And the quiet urgency as uniformed officers milled around a cordoned-off section of the riverbank had Kenny’s gut twisting. A white forensic tent stood like a tombstone by the water, its entrance a revolving door of specialists in full-body suits, snapping gloves as they went in and out. And the dull murmur of radio chatter mixed with the crunch of boots on gravel rivalled the smell of wet earth, causing Kenny’s shivers.

It had been over two years since he’d last stood on a site like this. Not for lack of invitations. The department had called plenty of times. They valued his insights. Especially if something was a local case. And he was an expert in his field for a reason. But he’d kept his distance of late. The work had eaten away at him, the obsessive need to find answers in every scene. It was noway to live, so he’d focused on the academic pathway, steering himself towards lectures, research, mentoring.

Let someone else wade through the blood and bone for a change.

Yet here he was, despite every promise he’d made to himself.

He drew in a breath when he laid eyes on PC Jack Bentley. Except he wasn’t a PC anymore. He was plain clothed, with a stunningly tailored suit hugging his broader frame and blond hair styled neatly in a short back and sides. He stood outside the tent, telltale plastic gloves on, but his face was unreadable. Kenny didn’t need to assess the body language. The fact he’d called Kenny at all said enough. Not only had they not spoken in eight years, but if anyone knew Kenny’s demons, it was Jack Bentley.

This might be a long overdue reunion, but it wasn’t over any old crime scene.

“Hey, Dr Lyons,” Jack said as he approached the barricade tape, voice light with a hint of a remorseful sigh.

“Hi.” Kenny peered over to the tent, worry preventing him from blurting everything out. Everything he’d kept in for eight years. His apologies. Hisregret. “What’s happened?”

Jack lifted the yellow tape, and Kenny stood frozen for a moment, heart pounding. Crossing that threshold meant stepping back into a world he’d sworn to leave behind. A live case, the rush of it, the obsession that would follow. It was all too familiar. Just like when he’d spiralled, trying to find out what really happened to Jessica. He hesitated, caught between instinct and dread.

“I wouldn’t have called you if I had a choice,” Jack said, and the words cut through Kenny like a knife. “I need a second opinion.Yoursecond opinion.”

Reluctantly, Kenny ducked under the tape and the familiar snap of latex gloves as Jack handed them over sent him swirlinginto the past. “Like old times.” Jack offered a smile, but there was no real melancholy in it. Nor fond memories.

“How come you’re here?”

“Transferred back. You’re working with the new Detective Inspector of Ryston.”

“Haven’t said I’m working on this yet.”

“You will.” Jack hesitated at the opening of the tent. “It’s good to see you, Kenny.”

“Is it?”

Jack breathed out a dejected smile. Then he angled his head and slipped into detective mode. “First responders are leaning toward accidental death. Maybe a suicide. But we haven’t moved the body yet. I wanted you to see it first.”

“Because you don’t believe it’s accidental?” Kenny said flatly.

Jack shook his head. “No.”

“Why call me?”

“First, because he’s a student at your university. And second…” Jack lifted the flap of the white tent. “Because you need to see this.”

Inside, the air was heavy with the sterile scent of chemicals and wet earth. Dr Chong, the pathologist, was kneeling next to the body, fully suited in PPE. She glanced up when they entered, her eyes narrowing with recognition.

“Dr Lyons,” she greeted, voice muffled behind the mask. “Long time no see.”

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