The Game

by Luca Veste

  I can get back to my life.

  Whatever that is.

  Emily Burns.

  Emily’s last words, Mark guessed. Before that night when it had all ended.

  Stephanie. Her sister.

  She was talking about not trusting her own sister. Mark stared down at the words, hoping they would change somehow.

  He had watched Stephanie when she’d seen Emily’s body earlier that day. That wasn’t someone who didn’t care. He had watched her face as the truth crashed into it and her world changed in an instant.

  Emily had been wrong. Stephanie had cared deeply. He didn’t know why Emily didn’t know that.

  Mark didn’t know what to do.

  No one was meant to see this letter. It was the random words of someone who was seriously troubled. She had got herself into a situation she couldn’t control and come to harm. There was a mental slip happening before Emily disappeared, that was clear now.

  It wasn’t Stephanie’s fault. It couldn’t be.

  Mark slid the paper back into the envelope, letting it dangle in his hands, working out what to do next.

  Mark could feel his hands shaking as he held the envelope tighter. He knew what he was going to do, without knowing why.

  He needed to make them see that there was more to this than just a couple of unconnected bodies, found on the streets of the city within days of each other.

  He heard footsteps in the corridor behind him, coming towards the bathroom. Mark stood up quickly, looked down at the envelope, at the door.

  Then, as a voice called his name, he thought about stuffing the envelope in his pocket and doing this alone.

  Instead, he shouted back through the door.

  ‘Coming out now.’

  He needed to make them see.

  To know that he wasn’t what they thought of him. That he was good enough for this job.

  That he knew what he was doing.

  He needed to find out what The Game was.

  That was the key to all of this.

  Thirty-Eight

  DS Cavanagh was waiting for him outside the bathroom, his head tilted to one side as Mark emerged, realising quickly that something had been found.

  ‘Come on, out with it,’ DS Cavanagh said, leaning against the wall opposite. ‘You look like the cat that got the cream – or the milk – whatever it is.’

  ‘I’ve found something,’ Mark replied, unable to keep the excitement from his voice now. ‘There is more to all of this than just randomness. There’s something called The Game—’

  ‘What did you find?’ DS Cavanagh interrupted, holding out his hand.

  Mark handed over the letter and watched as the DS scanned the contents, his gloved hands crinkling the paper. ‘It’s all connected,’ he said, as Cavanagh continued to read. ‘I think all the odd things Emily has been doing are part of it.’

  ‘What odd things?’

  ‘I don’t know everything, but Emily was witnessed behaving strangely in public before she went missing.’

  DS Cavanagh stopped reading and looked up. ‘Approaching members of the public, saying odd things, like that?’

  Mark nodded, opened his mouth to talk but was stopped by DS Cavanagh continuing.

  ‘Joanna Carter did something similar.’

  ‘There you go,’ Mark said, then began pacing in the small hallway outside the bathroom, head down, trying to work it out. ‘There’s someone making them do this.’

  ‘I don’t know—’

  ‘You can’t call Emily’s death anything other than a murder,’ Mark said, taking his turn to interrupt now. ‘And we saw the CCTV of someone following Joanna onto that roof. Did it look like Emily’s uncle? There must be a link between the two. We need to speak to Emily’s sister, Stephanie. Find out why she couldn’t be trusted, or what was going on.’

  ‘Possibly,’ DS Cavanagh replied, but didn’t sound convinced. ‘We’ll continue the search, see if there’s anything more to find, then take this back to the boss. See what she has to say about it. I still don’t like the uncle. I think he has to be involved in some way.’

  Mark wanted to pick DS Cavanagh up and shake him. He thought of a few comebacks, but kept them to himself and decided to bide his time, more sure than ever that Uncle Rich wasn’t the person responsible for any of the events that had occurred in the previous few days.

  Which left him wondering again who was.

  Mark waited for the rest of the search team to find the grand total of nothing. He made a show of helping them out, ripping apart Emily’s bedroom, going through every single square inch of the place.

  The sky was black outside as they continued on, hoping that an answer was going to be forthcoming. All the while, grumbling that it wasn’t that house they should be searching. All the time, becoming more ingrained in the idea that it was Emily’s uncle who should have his house ransacked. That the answers would be there instead.

  Mark didn’t know what to think anymore. All that kept playing in his mind was the need to speak to Stephanie and find out her side of the story. To see what she knew.

  There was something going on and he didn’t think anyone on that team was prepared to see it.

  DS Cavanagh’s face was lined with annoyance and acceptance. He exchanged looks with Mark, a quiet nod of recognition that at least one of them had found something of note. Mark kept quiet, trying to figure out what he was going to do next.

  How to find out more.

  Back at the station, things had moved on in their absence. Emily’s uncle had been brought in and was currently being questioned. Answering ‘no comment’ to everything, Mark imagined. Another group of detectives were searching his house and car, looking for anything to tie him to the scene. The officers who had searched Emily’s house all looked a little relieved about that. The team were gathered quickly, ready for an impromptu update on what was happening. Mark lurked near the back of the group as his phone buzzed away in his pocket. He ignored it.

  The investigation team had grown in size since a few days earlier. Faces he’d never noticed before were suddenly a part of what had been a one-man band two days earlier.

  Just him and a missing girl.

  ‘Right, so the latest we’ve got back from the team searching Richard Burns’s house and car is that several items of interest have been found. Forensics are going over the car, as you’d expect. Unfortunately, nothing was found in the victim’s home that was evidence of anything happening there. We’re not ruling out that Joanna Carter’s death is linked at this stage.’

  DI Bennett continued on, listing what they still didn’t know, as she perched on a desk addressing the room. Phones rang and were cut off mid-ring. Feet shuffled about, someone coughed.

  ‘With regards to Joanna Carter. The man we saw on CCTV didn’t look big enough to be Rich Burns,’ DS Cavanagh said, arms folded across his chest, muscles in his neck straining against the surface. ‘I think Mark was right though. I don’t like the coincidence at all. If the two are connected – and we have to be seriously asking ourselves why they wouldn’t be – there’s the possibility of another person’s involvement. Plus, we now have another angle to consider.’

  A few heads turned his way, but Mark ignored them. He stared straight ahead, at the wall to the left of DI Bennett.

  ‘It’s not enough at the moment,’ DI Bennett said, a touch of irritation in her voice at the interruption from Cavanagh. ‘All our concentration needs to be on nailing him for Emily’s death first. He’s giving away nothing in interview at the moment, other than veiled threats and barely contained anger. At least it’s not a “no comment” interview at the moment. I’m hoping they can break him down quickly.’

  Rich was talking then, Mark thought with surprise. He glanced at the clock on the wall and wondered how much longer this would go on for. The urge to slip away quietly was becoming difficult to ignore.

  Stephanie was in the building somewhere. Probably in the family room on the third floor, he guessed. He t
hought they’d be still be in shock, trying to deal with what had taken place that day.

  ‘Mark spoke to the son,’ DI Bennett said, bringing him back into the room. ‘He didn’t exactly give up his uncle, but made some interesting statements we can use. The family are together and will be returning home soon. A family liaison officer will be accompanying them, who will keep an eye on them. I don’t need to tell any of you of the importance of keeping this all quiet at the moment. That means not telling family members, friends, anyone, about what’s going on right now. And definitely no media at all. They’re camped outside at the moment, looking for someone to let something slip. We can’t give them anything. It’ll only screw us up at this point. Let them speculate and come up with non-stories. We’ll keep doing our own work.’

  As DI Bennett spoke, the television on the wall in the corner of the room flickered silently. One of the twenty-four-hour news channels was on screen, the yellow breaking news banner running across the bottom.

  Mark turned away from it, not wanting to see what was being reported.

  ‘Some of you are staying on to continue working the case, but it’s been a long day for the rest. I want those who have been here since eight this morning to clock off and get some sleep. We’ve got two pieces of evidence that I need final reports on by the morning: Emily’s diary of “thoughts” and her social media accounts. Mark has been working on them the last couple of days and done as much as he could, but they’re extensive and long. I want a couple each on both. Work through them quickly but diligently. Find me something that we can use against the uncle.’

  They wouldn’t find anything, Mark thought, but didn’t say. He needed to scour those pages himself and try to find any references to a game. He wanted to know why she wasn’t putting more stock in what he had discovered, but was prepared to wait.

  Someone was killing these women – two so far – and he didn’t think for one second that it was a low-life drug dealer with an anger issue.

  His phone buzzed again in his pocket, as DI Bennett continued talking for a few more minutes. When she eventually dismissed them, she grabbed hold of his arm as he walked past her.

  ‘A quick word first,’ she said, letting go and walking into her office. Mark looked across at DS Cavanagh, who seemed to stay in place for a second, before deciding to follow them.

  ‘Yeah, boss,’ Mark said, surprised at how calm and level his voice sounded. ‘The letter we found, I’m guessing?’

  ‘Yes, the letter,’ DI Bennett replied, standing behind her desk, one hand resting on top of her chair. ‘I’ve had a quick look through it, but I’m not sure what we can take from it right now.’

  ‘A few things,’ Mark said, shooting a hopeful look towards DS Cavanagh for back-up. ‘First, we have the odd events before both Emily and Joanna were found dead. The things they’ve been doing in public, etcetera. Then you have this mention of some kind of game and the fear behind it. Also we have the online element of it all. Emily was targeting people online. And I’ve heard Joanna might have been doing similar things. Ostracised, all of that.’

  ‘I agree that things aren’t adding up,’ DI Bennett replied, placing her hands on her hips. ‘But I need to play the odds here. Occam’s Razor, you know? I think there’s something to suggest there’s some kind of game, but that could just be something new that teenagers are doing, and we’re getting side-tracked by it. At the moment, evidence is leading us away from something like what you’re suggesting, and towards abuse and a closer connection.’

  ‘The uncle…’

  ‘Yes, the uncle. It’s been a crazy couple of days. If I had any idea what was going to happen, I would never have sent you to that house on your own.’

  ‘No one could have seen it coming. I just… Are you sure that this isn’t all connected?’

  ‘Mark…’

  Mark tried to quieten down the part of him that wanted to make her see sense, but he didn’t know how to do that. ‘It’s not right. None of this. I found absolutely nothing to suggest Emily’s uncle was abusing her. Only a sulky teenage boy, who has an axe to grind by the looks of things. It seems a huge stretch to think that Rich killed her and Joanna Carter. Do you really think that’s him on that CCTV?’

  ‘You don’t think he could find someone to do his dirty work for him?’

  Mark hesitated, then shook his head. ‘It just doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘It does, Mark,’ DI Bennett said, correcting him, her face now blank and unreadable. ‘I understand your concerns and don’t think that I don’t share them. That’s why we’re looking at the most logical option right now, in her uncle being the one who killed her.’

  ‘It doesn’t seem that logical to me…’

  ‘Careful, Mark,’ DI Bennett said, before he had chance to say any more. ‘You’ve done well this week, so don’t make a mistake.’

  ‘There’s absolutely nothing in anything she’s written down or online about her uncle,’ Mark said, unable to stop himself. He wanted to take the letter Emily had written before her death and thrust it in her face. Thankfully, his body didn’t let him. ‘It’s all about the people from her life, yet only mentions him in a positive way. Look, she went after people online, got her revenge and didn’t seem to have a problem doing that, so if her uncle was abusing her, why wouldn’t she mention it in a hidden note? Charlie could be lying. Or, if Rich had been spending more time with Emily, maybe it’s because he was trying to help her? Doesn’t it make sense that if he’d done something to her, she’d go after him? Or at least leave something behind saying so? That’s before we get into the whole blood in one place, body in another, with some random other girl at the bottom of a building, who was known to be doing certain acts in public that Emily was doing as well.’

  ‘I agree, it’s starting to come together in a certain way, but that doesn’t mean I can ignore what’s right in front of us. This could just be a distraction, an attempt to make us do what you’re trying to do right now. Waste time instead of concentrating on the one man who has the capacity to do this.’

  Mark could see himself losing an argument he didn’t even want to have. Still, he couldn’t let it go. There was more to this than just coincidence and an abusive family member. He could feel it. He just couldn’t voice it. Not without making himself look out of his depth.

  ‘Just keep an open mind, that’s all I’m saying,’ Mark said eventually, pleased to hear his tone had calmed somewhat. ‘I don’t think this feels right at all. If we were to miss something because we spent all our time on the wrong man, that’d be wrong too.’

  DI Bennett fixed him with a stare, but he could see by the way her shoulders dropped a little that she’d heard him.

  ‘What do you think, Cav?’ DI Bennett said, turning to the DS standing in the doorway now. ‘Is Mark right?’

  ‘I think he knows this case better than all of us right now. If Mark thinks there’s more to it than just the uncle, I reckon it’s on us to listen to him.’

  Mark could feel his eyebrows raise in surprise, but didn’t say anything, and certainly didn’t look at DS Cavanagh.

  DI Bennett sighed and moved her chair out to sit down. ‘Fine, why don’t you two take over the questioning of the uncle. See if that changes your mind.’ She looked at her watch and made a decision. ‘Take him into a room now before you call it a day. There’s another sixteen hours on the clock, so we have the time.’

  ‘Thanks, boss,’ Mark said, opening the door and leaving the office before she had a chance to change her mind. He waited outside for DS Cavanagh, who joined him a few seconds later. The two men looked at each other, Cavanagh breaking it with a small nod, then they set off for the custody suites on the bottom floor.

  He’d managed to get much more than he’d thought was possible. Now, he just had to work out what he wanted to ask Rich.

  Mark tried not to smile as he made his way down the corridor. He could feel himself becoming part of the team finally.

  There was something naggi
ng at him still. Something he wasn’t seeing yet. Something he was missing.

  He tried to shake the feeling, but it wouldn’t let go.

  NOW

  Thirty-Nine

  The Third Interview

  Tuesday 30th October

  Interview Room One

  Lancaster Police Station – sixty miles from Liverpool City Centre

  They had about an hour and a half left on the clock before they’d have to decide whether to charge him or not. He thought it was an absolute certainty that they’d have enough to get at least one charge, but he wondered about the rest he had said. They had left him in the cell for about six hours before they’d brought him back.

  He didn’t like the way they’d been looking at him. As if they had a secret they couldn’t wait to share.

  Surely they would have been looking into his confessions, rather than anything else?

  He was just nervous, he decided. He needed this last hurdle to be crossed and then he would be remanded and everything would be okay.

  He thought of the dead girl they had found him with. The looks on the faces of the uniformed officers as they handcuffed him and bundled him into the back of the van. The waves of hate that had streamed across the table from the detectives in the two previous visits to this interview room.

  They all looked and felt the same. There was no chance they had looked into who he was. His past, his life.

  Of course, they’d want to identify him. Have a name, so they could do this properly. He was still weighing up the pros and cons of giving them that.

  They hadn’t tried talking to him on the walk to the room. Or now they were inside. He was glad of that. Didn’t want them to try and engage him in idle chit-chat, as they had done previously.

  This had to go one way only.

  ‘This interview is being recorded both visually and audibly. Investigating officers are Detective Inspector Patrick Hicks and Detective Sergeant Victoria Lee. Still not ready to tell us your name?’