He looked back at me.
‘We’ll forget about the bank account for now. I’m not sure what that all means, but we’ll come back to it later. DC Stevens is going to show you something on his tablet, and I want you to tell me if you’re familiar with it.’
The DC, who’d been clutching the tablet under his arm since he’d arrived, was opening it up, tapping the screen. He crossed the room and sat down beside me on the sofa. He smelled faintly of cigarettes, and I began to feel sick again.
‘What is it?’
He angled the screen towards me.
‘It’s a site called EHU. Have you heard of it?’ he asked. He had a soft Scottish accent, and I realized that this was the first time I’d heard him speak more than a couple of words.
‘EHU? That’s that dating app, isn’t it? The one everyone says is going to be as big as Tinder soon?’
I leaned forwards, puzzled. Why was he asking me about a dating app? He tapped the screen and a myriad of smiling faces began to spin around a logo, and then a log-in box appeared.
‘Hold on, I’ll just …’ the DC tapped in a password, ‘and you’re right, yes, it’s a dating app. EHU, acronym for Elite Hook Ups. I want to show you something.’
‘OK.’
I frowned, squinting at the screen. DC Stevens had clearly logged in and was now swiping rapidly up and down a list of what looked like dozens of profiles. Photographs of men, some close-up head shots, others full-length, men in football kit, in tennis whites, in suits. The …
‘Oh my GOD. What … that’s … that’s Danny!’
DC Stevens stopped swiping, and tapped on the photograph, enlarging it, then turned to look at me. I ignored him, my heart beginning to pound, staring at the screen, my whole body suddenly feeling weak. The name next to the photograph said it was somebody called Sean. But … it was Danny. My Danny, smiling at me from the tablet, wearing his favourite red T-shirt. A selfie, by the look of it, the top of his arm visible, outstretched, chin tilted towards the camera. My husband, Danny.
‘I-I-I’m sorry, I just don’t understand. Why is he on there? I mean, we met online, on Tinder, but that was the only site either of us had ever used, and we both came off it as soon as we started dating …’
Even I could hear the desperation in my voice. I swallowed hard. Please, please, let all this be a horrible mistake. A joke. Call it a joke. It’s not funny, but I’ll laugh anyway. Just tell me …
DS Clarke was talking again, quietly, his tone soothing.
‘Gemma, we know all this is a lot to take in. I need to explain something to you, and it’s going to be worrying, OK, but I don’t want you to panic, because we don’t know anything for definite, right? It’s just one avenue we’re going down, just something we’re looking into. So just stay calm, OK? Take a deep breath.’
I tried to do as he’d asked, but my breath caught in my chest, jagged and painful. I rubbed my eyes, trying to focus.
‘I’m OK. Just tell me, please, whatever it is. I’m having a hard time trying to process all this … the job, the bank account stuff, and now this website … it’s just making no sense. None.’
The DS grimaced.
‘Trust me, we’re struggling almost as much as you must be. OK, so this is our concern. Have you heard about the two recent murders in the Clifton area? One about a month ago, one last week? Two young men?’
I frowned, trying to think, my mind blank. I hadn’t watched the television news in weeks, and I rarely checked the online news sites anymore. I shook my head.
‘No, sorry. I don’t keep up with the news as religiously as I used to – I used to be a news reporter, but it just makes me anxious now, with all the horrible things going on in the world. And we’ve been so busy, since we moved in …’ I gasped, as my brain finally took in what he’d said, and what it might mean. ‘Hang on – two murders? Men? Do you think Danny’s been murdered?’
The shivering had started again, my hands suddenly freezing cold.
No. Please, no.
DS Clarke was shaking his head.
‘No, look, honestly, it’s just a theory, a possibility. We’ve just discovered that the two men who died, who were killed, were both users of this EHU app. That could just be a coincidence, we have nothing concrete to link the two murders at the moment, other than a few vague similarities between the two crime scenes. But …’
He was fumbling inside a flap at the back of his notebook, pulling out two photographs. He held them up. They were pictures of two men, both maybe early thirties, both with dark hair, dark eyes. I stared, the cold creeping up into my chest now, and then dragged my eyes back to the tablet, to Danny’s face.
‘Is that them?’ My voice was barely a whisper.
‘Yes. Do you see why I’m showing you these?’ DS Clarke’s voice was low too, compassionate. ‘It’s because they look … well, they all look quite similar, don’t they?’ he said. ‘A certain … well, a certain type, I suppose. And when we saw the photo you gave us, of your husband, well, we noticed the resemblance immediately. So, even though it was a long shot, we thought we’d just check, just in case. Check the website I mean, to see if Danny might be registered too. To see if it might be more than a coincidence. And, as you can see …’ He gestured towards the photo of Danny on the screen.
I swallowed again. My throat felt as if it were closing up, as if, if they told me anything else, piled any more of this incomprehensible information into my brain, I might actually stop breathing.
‘Hang on, so you think … you think that somebody might be killing men who use this app? Men who look like that … who look like Danny? And two have been killed already, and now Danny’s gone missing, and you think that he might … might have been killed too? Why though? Why would somebody do that?’
DS Clarke was shaking his head, splaying his hands in a vague gesture I somehow interpreted as who knows?
‘As I said, we just don’t know. We have no proof, no evidence. And, of course, no third body. Danny is, we hope, still alive and well and out there somewhere. But it’s a possibility, that’s all. It’s not something we’d normally … well, normally I wouldn’t worry the family with something like this. But this is such an unusual case, and we thought that maybe, if you knew, you might be able to shed some light …’ He sighed. ‘I’m so sorry. Don’t dwell on it, please. There’s every chance your husband will still turn up. And until we can find anything that says otherwise, we have to assume he hasn’t come to any harm, OK? But, just to confirm …’ he pointed a finger at DC Stevens’s tablet, now closed and resting on his knee, ‘you didn’t know, then? That he had a profile on that site?’
He had the good grace to look a little sheepish as he asked the question, not quite meeting my eye. DC Stevens was staring at his own shoes.
I took a breath.
‘No, I did not know that my husband had a profile on a dating website,’ I said, with as much dignity as I could muster. Of course I didn’t bloody know. What’s going on, Danny? What the hell is going on? ‘And I don’t understand it, any of it. Danny wasn’t … wasn’t shagging around, I’m sure he wasn’t.’
Even as I said the words, I felt new doubts creeping in. Were you, Danny? Were you? But I couldn’t think about that now, couldn’t let myself.
‘Look, maybe somebody else put his profile on there. One of his mates? For some sort of silly joke? Danny probably doesn’t even know his picture is on there,’ I said.
The two police officers exchanged looks again, and both nodded.
‘That’s true, it certainly could have happened like that,’ DC Stevens said.
‘I suppose so, yes. Certainly a possibility. This case gets curiouser and curiouser,’ DS Clarke replied unexpectedly, then stood up abruptly.
‘Right, we’ll get out of your way. I’m sorry, again, that we’ve had to land all this on you. But we’re a little bit stuck on this one, Gemma, I don’t mind telling you. We simply can’t work out what’s happened to Danny, and what was going on in
his life in the weeks before he vanished. The job, his bank account, this app … look, if you can think of anything, anything at all, that might explain some of it, please call, OK? Any time. And maybe, can I suggest, get someone to come and stay with you for a few days? A friend, a relative? It’s a lot to cope with on your own.’
Still a little stunned by his Alice in Wonderland reference, I gaped up at him. DC Stevens was on his feet now too, shuffling towards the door, seemingly anxious to leave now that he’d thrown a live grenade into my living room and let it explode, leaving me to deal with the agonizing aftermath. What the hell was I supposed to do now?
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I think I might do that.’
Chapter 8
‘This is just getting more and more bizarre.’
Helena was standing in front of the incident board, cradling her second cup of tea of the morning and frowning. Next to her, Devon popped the final sliver of his pain au chocolat into his mouth and turned to put his plate down on the desk behind them.
‘And where did you get that anyway? Surely not downstairs? It actually looked edible. Although you eat far too much sugar, Devon. It’s not good for you, you know. Your diet’s gone to pot since Jasmine left you.’
He shrugged, swallowing.
‘Don’t care. Needed something to cheer me up. Picked it up on my way in. That little bakery round the corner? It opens at six. You should try it, instead of eating all those boring salads. Might help.’
Helena grimaced.
‘Charlotte makes them for me. I don’t like to say no. But even I might have to turn to comfort food one of these days, the way this is going.’
She rubbed the small of her back as she spoke, and winced.
‘And sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned Jasmine. I’m an idiot. Are you OK?’
He shrugged again.
‘I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back on the horse soon. And when are you going to see someone about that back?’
‘Soon. When this is all over.’
‘Yeah, yeah. And I just saw a cute little piggy flying past that window over there.’
He turned away and began picking up the sheaf of papers he’d dumped on the desk earlier, shuffling them into some sort of order, and Helena watched him, her heart twisting suddenly. For all his bravado, he was definitely hurting. He’d fallen hard for Jasmine, a bright, ambitious medical registrar he’d met while interviewing a stabbing victim at Southmead Hospital, and who he’d been dating for the past year or so; he’d even, when Helena had joined him and some of the other detectives for a rare night in the pub a few months back, confided in her after several vodkas that he was considering proposing, once Jasmine had completed her training.
‘Maybe on the day she qualifies, something like that. What do you think, guv? Think she’d say yes?’
Helena had smiled.
‘She’d be mad not to. Catch like you? Course she’ll say yes.’
What had actually happened was what so often happened in relationships between two people with such demanding jobs; the long hours, the constant weariness and the repeated enforced cancellation of plans to meet up that came as standard with both police and big city hospital work had taken their toll. Devon and Jasmine, it seemed, had simply drifted apart, until she had finally called time on the relationship.
‘Ready, guv?’
Devon had finished organizing his paperwork and was looking at her expectantly.
‘Ready, yes. Let’s take stock.’
She gestured at the board.
‘And we all need to get our thinking caps on, because this lot is doing my head in. Do we have a potential serial killer, or just two separate murders? Is someone targeting men who look alike and finding them by using a particular dating app, although I can’t for the life of me think why, or is that app irrelevant, just a coincidence? Why was the app not on either of our victims’ phones, even though they were both users of it? And is Danny O’Connor just a missing person, or a third victim? Frankly, I have no clue.’
Devon shrugged.
‘Me neither guv. Let’s do this.’
He turned to the room.
‘Guys! Gather round. Meeting.’
When everyone was settled, Helena nodded at the DS.
‘Go ahead.’
‘OK, let’s run through what we have so far,’ he said. ‘First – our two murders. No new leads in the past couple of days, on either Mervin Elliott or Ryan Jones, other than the intriguing discovery that both of them used the same dating app, EHU. Great work on that, Mike.’
Perched on the edge of a desk towards the back of the room, DC Mike Slater flushed and nodded.
‘Any progress on getting the EHU people to provide us with any more details on women our victims might have dated?’
Mike shook his head. ‘I’ve asked, and they’re being very helpful, but they said they’ve had a few system crashes recently, probably due to the site getting more and more popular. They’re not sure all the search data has been saved. But they’ve also said they’ll have to check it all out with their legal people, even if this is a major double murder investigation. You know, the new data protections laws and all that? Should know in the next day or so though. I’ll keep chasing. And our tech guys are still going through the victims’ emails and texts again to see if they can trace any of the women they dated through the site. I’ll let you know if they find anything.’
‘Cheers, Mike.’
Helena, who was standing to the side of the board, leaning against the wall, smiled at the DC and said: ‘Yes, well done again, Mike. And we’re keeping this EHU app thing from the press for now, guys, OK? I mean, we still don’t know if the two murders are linked, as we need to keep reminding ourselves. Anyone have any theories on that, by the way? Shoot, if you do.’
She paused, as a low murmur ran around the room.
‘I might have one. I mean, it’s probably bollocks, but hey …’
DC Tara Lemming, a tall woman with striking coal-black hair pulled back into a bouncy ponytail, and deep green eyes, had raised a hand.
‘OK Tara, let’s hear it.’
Tara stood up.
‘Well, it’s just with both of our victims, and now this missing guy as well, Danny, all using the EHU app, and all looking so alike, well … we all have a type, don’t we? A type we go for? Mine, for example, is tall and blond.’
She turned to look at DC Matthew Shawcross, who was sitting beside her and who also happened to be six foot five inches tall with cropped, white blond hair, and winked. There was a ripple of laughter, and Matthew blushed.
‘OK, OK, let’s stick to the topic at hand. Go on, Tara.’
Helena waved a hand, and the room fell silent again.
‘Sorry. But my point is, our victims, plus Danny O’Connor, well, they’re all a definite type, aren’t they? I mean, if someone was on a dating site searching for dark-haired, dark eyed, fit, slim but sporty men in their thirties, they’d all pop up, wouldn’t they? So what if our killer is a woman, who for some reason has a violent dislike of men who fit that description? Maybe she was a victim of domestic abuse or just badly treated in a relationship by someone who looked like that or something, I dunno. What if she’s a member of that dating site too, and she’s hunting them down and killing them, one by one? I mean, that’s just me wildly speculating, and I know most serial killers are men, that is if we are dealing with a serial killer of course, but, well … it was just a thought,’ she finished lamely.
There was silence for a moment.
‘It’s certainly a theory. And one that would mean our killer also has a profile on the EHU app,’ said DC Slater from the back of the room.
‘How many people are registered, Mike?’ Devon asked.
‘They wouldn’t tell me. Data protection again blah blah blah. But tens of thousands, I’d say. It’s growing by the day. And if we can’t access any of their data to narrow it down …’
There was silence again.
‘Yea
h. Impossible. Probably a bollocks theory anyway, as I said,’ said Tara.
She sat down again, and Helena stood in silence for a moment, thinking. Her gut feeling was still that this was a male killer, despite telling herself firmly not to rule anything out. But women did kill too. She wondered if she should consider the possibility a little more closely.
‘Possibly bollocks, but maybe not. We can’t discount anything at the moment. Thank you, Tara,’ Helena said. ‘We have to keep an open mind about this entire investigation, until hard evidence takes us in a particular direction. Anyone else?’
She glanced around the room, at a sea of blank faces.
‘OK. Carry on, Devon.’
‘Sure.’
Devon turned back to the board and pointed at the photograph of Danny O’Connor, which had been pinned to the far right-hand side.
‘So – Danny O’Connor. Sounded like a straightforward misper at first, despite his strong physical resemblance to our two murder victims. But now that we’ve discovered he also had a profile on EHU, despite apparently being happily and fairly recently married, we’re looking into his disappearance a little more closely ourselves, instead of handing it over to Missing Persons.’
He picked up a piece of paper from the desk in front of him.
‘Obviously, we have no evidence he’s come to any harm, not at the moment. He does seem to have pretty much vanished into thin air though, and our efforts to trace him so far have drawn a blank. He doesn’t have a mobile phone currently, according to his wife, so that stops us being able to find him via that, and there are definitely a few oddities here. With regard to the EHU app, Gemma was pretty horrified when we told her about it yesterday. She flatly denied any possibility that he could have been, as she put it, “shagging around”. She suggested that somebody, one of his mates, might have put his profile on the site as some sort of joke. And she’s right, that could be what happened. We don’t really have any way of knowing how it got on there – did Danny register himself, or did someone else do it for some sort of stupid wind up? We need to talk to his friends, ask them if they know anything about it, and try to find out if Danny has been up to anything his wife might not know about. Mike, can you take care of that too? Be discreet though, don’t mention the app. We don’t want anything about that discovery getting out at the moment. Just ask them if they think there’s any possibility he might have been playing around. And also check out the email address he used on his profile on the site, see what we can get from that?’
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