by Luca Veste
He knocked, then let himself in.
‘John,’ he said, squinting into the darkness. The curtains were drawn, some kind of blackout thing attached to them. ‘Get up.’
There was a lump in the bed, unmoving. Behind him, he could hear the mother climbing the stairs. She was making sounds, but none that sounded like actual words. Mark thought she’d finally woken up to the fact that he’d forced his way in and bounded up the stairs to talk to her son. Probably about to make some kind of complaint. He turned back to the door, waiting for her to appear, but a noise from the bed made him move back around.
‘It’s alright, Mum,’ the lump said, sitting up and perching on the edge of the bed. ‘I know what this is about. It’s all okay.’
Mark turned to where John’s mother was standing and smiled at her. She still seemed perturbed by the disturbance, but he knew what she was going to do. She would slip back downstairs and go into full British middle-class form and grumble to herself. Mark closed the door and felt for the light switch, turning it on. John was sitting fully clothed on the edge of his bed.
‘You know, don’t you?’ John said, his shoulders slumping a little. ‘I knew it wasn’t going to be kept quiet.’
‘Know what, John?’ Mark replied, taking in the young lad sitting on the single bed. The room was almost exactly like Charlie Burns’s had been – teenage angst seeping out of every surface of it. Only John Redwood was eighteen now, so really should have known better. John looked younger though – sixteen at most, Mark thought. His face was still pockmarked with acne, red and angry. His entire body seemed to be bearing a heavy load. Mark had heard the phrase carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but realised it could be true in this case. John seemed to be collapsing from the strain. Mark tried to breathe through his mouth to mask the smell emanating from him. Sweat and self-abuse. ‘Do you want me to tell you who I am first?’
‘I heard you talking to my mum downstairs,’ John said, rubbing a sleeve of his jacket across his nose. His eyes were as red as the scars on his face. He’d been crying, Mark thought. Dark bags under his eyes, as if sleep was a distant memory.
‘You know I’m a detective then,’ Mark replied, watching him carefully. He was hoping to have had the upper hand in bursting inside, but he could see that John had almost been waiting for him. Like he knew he was coming, even before he’d knocked on the door. Lying in bed, fully clothed, waiting for the inevitable. ‘You know what case I’ve been working on?’
John frowned, but then nodded his head. ‘The dead girl. Emily Burns. And the other one. And you’re here now because of her.’
Mark felt his heart quicken, but kept a straight face. ‘Because of who, John?’
‘Holly,’ John said, then stood up. He looked at Mark, blinked a few times, as if he was making a decision. Then, he put his head down and started barrelling towards him.
Forty-Seven
It was hardly a fair fight.
What John had on Mark in weight, Mark had in experience and speed. Mark stood his ground, watching as the lad moved towards him. He grabbed a pudgy arm, twisted it behind John’s back with ease, and used his momentum to push him back towards the bed. ‘Easy does it, lad,’ he said, whispering, hoping too much noise hadn’t been made. Even if they’d wrecked the room, he didn’t think John’s mum was about to burst through the door. Still, he wanted to keep this as quiet as possible.
‘Are you going to be good?’ Mark said, keeping a grip on the lad’s arm. He’d forced it behind his back, but wondered exactly how much damage he could do. He wasn’t exactly pliable. He guessed John had used all his energy running the six-foot distance between them. Now he was out of breath and sweating even more. ‘I’m not going to do anything but talk to you. If you want to make this more difficult, I’d rather know now.’
‘Fine,’ John replied, his shoulders sinking as his resistance fell. Mark let go of his arm and he promptly collapsed in a heap, his head dropping into his hands. ‘I’m sorry, I just… I just can’t take this anymore. It’s not fair.’
Mark shook his head, resisting the urge to sit down next to him and offer words of comfort. ‘You need to start talking to me. Now, John.’
‘I can’t…’
‘I’m not interested in can’t. This has gone too far. You need to tell me what’s going on. With Holly.’
‘You’ve found her, haven’t you? I didn’t think it would happen. Not really. She’s gone, hasn’t she? She’s not coming back.’
Mark tried to think quickly, not willing to let on how little he actually knew. ‘If you just tell me your side of things, we can sort this out. That sound fair?’
‘It’s not just her though, is it? It’s everything. It all got out of hand. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought it was going to be okay, but it’s all gone wrong.’
‘John, I need you to calm down and talk me through it all.’ Mark still resisted sitting down, but placed a hand on a large dresser, which rocked a little as he did so. Even in the light from the lampshade above his head, it was still dark in the room. The bed was lying underneath the window, lengthways along the wall. It created a little space in the room, but it was still a small area. Not as claustrophobic as Charlie’s box room, but close enough. He chose his next words carefully, hoping to make John think he knew more than he did. ‘Start at the beginning. Tell me what you know about this Game.’
There was a sniff, but no tears. Not yet. ‘I heard about it online and I realised there was something to it.’
‘People online.’
‘Yes,’ John replied, even though it hadn’t been a question. ‘There was this group of people, just like me. All around my age. I found somewhere I could finally be myself. It wasn’t long until I saw a few mentions of The Game and what it could mean for people like us.’
‘You used it to do what?’
John sighed, his face still mostly buried in his hands. He wouldn’t look at Mark. ‘It’s a secret place we go to talk about it. Online. Only, I didn’t think it would actually happen.’
Mark tried not to react. ‘So, how did it come here?’
‘Where?’
‘To Liverpool,’ Mark replied, trying to keep his anger in check. ‘I know it’s happened in other parts of the country.’
‘It just happened one day. Someone talked about someone round here and there were a few people who needed to pay for things. That’s what he told us.’
‘Who told you?’
John acted as if he hadn’t heard him and continued on. ‘Each game needs two players. That’s how it works. Then we all vote on who wins. From everything I know though, it’s not like it’s a bad thing, really. It’s justice. Emily and Joanna were both the same – they needed to pay for what they’d done. And they lost. They were punished for what they had done. Only, I thought we were just messing about. I didn’t expect anything to actually happen to her.’
‘And what’s the story with Holly?’ Mark said, but he could already see it. It was crawling all over the room, embedded in the walls. This was just another sad, lonely, teenage boy, who hadn’t got what he wanted.
‘I was her only friend for years. She should have known what was right. These girls… they can’t treat us like pets. There at their beck and call, only to drop us as soon as we ask for more. She owed me. I treated her like a princess and she treated me like shit she’d found on her shoe. She just dropped me, out of the blue. Last year. Years of talking, then it just stopped. I was just, dead inside. All that time, only to have her dismiss me that way. I was upset, angry, everything. I knew her secret as well. What she did to people, but it didn’t matter. She knew I’d never tell anyone. My parents took me to the Lake District to get my mind off it. Just a snap decision they made to take me up to the cottage we have up there. Didn’t help though. Nothing did. Not until I found that place. The forum for The Game. I had all our conversations saved, so I could show everyone. They read them. All of them. And they could see how she’d manipulated me the
n thrown me away when she wouldn’t accept that I was her best option. She should have been lying on her back, waiting for me, but instead she just used me for what she wanted, then I’m left with nothing. It’s not right. Not only that, but what she was doing to people was evil. Something needed to be done. It was just a way of getting back at her. I didn’t think anything bad would happen to them, not really.’
Mark listened, trying not to grab the lad by his throat there and then. ‘And Emily and Joanna were both nominated by men with the same stories?’
‘Pretty much,’ John replied, sniffing again. There were still no tears though. ‘It was Holly’s fault, really. She asked for it. They all do. I tried to tell her that, but she wouldn’t listen. If she had just given herself to me, this wouldn’t have happened.’
‘They’re forced to do challenges. Show that they are atoning for their crimes.’
‘Holly did some fucked up things online,’ John said, wiping a sleeve across his face again. ‘When she rejected me, she needed to pay for those things. She had to play The Game and she lost.’
‘And they’re supposed to be suicides,’ Mark said, trying to follow all the lad was saying but failing to keep up with the bullshit. ‘That’s right, isn’t it? So, you vote for the people who should play, then sit back and wait for the results? Is that right?’
‘I didn’t think anything would really happen to her. I thought it was just talk.’
‘I saw Emily’s body,’ Mark said, his jaw tensing, knuckles turning white as they gripped the dresser. ‘Joanna’s too. They were both dead. You helped kill them. Those girls are dead because a bunch of little boys can’t take rejection.’
‘No…’
‘Where’s Holly?’
John’s mouth hung open, his eyes glazing over with a film of tears finally. ‘I don’t know. She was supposed to have been found by now. We could have a say on how they were found. Emily wasn’t supposed to be found like that. It was supposed to be like Joanna.’
‘Tell me where you wanted Holly to be found.’
‘It was supposed to be a nice place, not far from Crosby Beach. I thought that would help the family, you know? Help them get over it quickly. If she had chosen somewhere that seemed okay.’
‘She hasn’t even been reported missing yet,’ Mark said, and enjoyed the reaction from John. He could see him take in the news; understand that he had revealed more than he’d needed. ‘There might still be time to save her, do you understand?’
John shook his head. ‘It’s too late. She’s gone. He showed us.’
‘How?’
‘On there,’ John replied, gesturing towards the laptop perched on his bedside cabinet.
‘Show me,’ Mark said, then moved across to the laptop and picked it up. He dropped it on John’s knees and finally sat down next to him. Being that close to the lad almost made him gag. He wanted more than anything to break something in his body, but resisted the urge. ‘I want to see what you’ve been sent.’
John hesitated, then looked at Mark for a second and realised he had no choice. Mark watched as he opened the computer and begin inputting passwords to get onto the home screen.
‘What’s that?’ Mark said, pointing to the screen. ‘I’ve never seen that before.’
‘It’s a special browser,’ John replied, his voice barely above a mumble. ‘Helps me get into parts of the web that are hidden.’
Mark nodded, continuing to watch as John worked his way through a multitude of screens. He knew what he was looking at now. It had been part of his training, but not a major aspect of it. There were specialist officers who would deal with this sort of thing thankfully. The Dark Web, they called it. He’d only experienced it in relation to things like child abuse images being shared and the sale of drugs. It seemed like there was more to it than that, however.
‘Here,’ John said, after a minute or two. He sat back a little, allowing Mark to get a closer look at the screen. ‘That’s what was posted last night. As promised.’
Mark took the laptop from John’s knees and shifted away from him. On screen, a series of photographs were displayed. Each were blurred and in very little light, but he could see enough to realise what he was looking at.
A young girl. Woman. No more than eighteen, he thought. Her eyes were closed, no outward signs of injury. She was propped up against a tree, a rope beside her in further photographs. He kept looking through, hoping to see something that would suggest they weren’t real, but nothing came.
‘This is Holly?’ Mark said, hearing the anger in his voice now. John recoiled at the sound of it. Mark turned towards him. ‘Tell me.’
John nodded, teardrops escaping his eyes and falling down his cheeks. ‘I know it doesn’t look good, but you have to believe me, I didn’t want this. I thought they would just scare her.’
Mark shook his head, trying to take in what he was seeing and hearing. The insanity of it. He laid the laptop on the bed and stood up, one hand going into his pocket and grasping his phone. He’d ring the station and explain it all. At least they would listen to him now.
‘You know you’re going to have to come with me, John,’ Mark said, opening his phone from its lock screen and finding the direct number to the incident room. ‘We’re going to need to find Holly’s body and you’re going to tell us everything you know.’
‘And the other one as well,’ John replied, resigned to his fate it seemed. He shifted forward on the bed. ‘I’m guessing that’s how you found me.’
Mark frowned, his forehead creasing as he tried to work out exactly what John was talking about. ‘Who else?’
‘The other woman. The one he told us about,’ John said, as if Mark should have already known. ‘You saw me, right? Outside her house? That’s how you know it was me involved, with that woman you’re always with? I thought that was why you were…’
It took Mark a second, then he understood. ‘Natasha? What’s happened to her?’
‘He’s taken her. She’s the new player.’
Forty-Eight
She had been so close. To finding them. To stopping them.
She had been trying to call Mark – to tell him that she had names to give him. Young men, young women, all involved in an online ring.
It hadn’t taken much to infiltrate their little place. Just one person who could see it wasn’t just make-believe.
That they were really going through with their plans.
It ended with the feel of breath on her neck as she’d slept fitfully.
The sense of it, warm and balmy, had been almost a comfort. Rhythmically beating against her neck, as her eyes flickered open and shut. The room was still dark and she could hear the low murmur of her phone from the bedside table, playing music softly. Blurred notes, playing an unfamiliar melody.
She had been in the blissful moments between wakefulness and sleep, as the breathing warmed the skin of her neck. Soothing her into consciousness.
The music played on.
She hadn’t wanted to move; the bed becoming like a cocoon. The weight of the blanket on top of her, almost wrapping her entire body in warmth. The presence of another person beside her.
The breath on her neck.
Her body had switched on in stages. Her head clearing the fog slowly, as she became aware of each part of herself. One arm had been trapped under her torso, her mind telling her to move from her side to her back.
Another part of her had wanted to stay in the bliss of sleep. Screw her eyes shut and ignore the outside world for longer.
Something stopped her from dropping back off, just as she would have done at any other time. A voice in her head, a warning. Something not right with what was happening.
A hand clamped over her mouth, just as she was about to scream.
* * *
Natasha didn’t know where she was. What was happening? Did anyone know she had gone? She didn’t know how long it had been since the previous night, when someone had taken her from her bed, hands grabbing and incap
acitating her before she could react.
She could hear a noise, but couldn’t place it. A low, humming sort of sound. She imagined it was what people who had tinnitus heard constantly. She was becoming more aware of the smaller things, now her other senses had been shut off. She couldn’t see, couldn’t touch. Couldn’t move.
She could smell, but didn’t want to think about what it was that was around her. The rotting smell of decay. Couldn’t allow herself to consider what that might mean.
No one knew where she was.
There was only one reason for her being there.
Natasha tried to move again, screaming into the cloth in her mouth. Her screams echoed back into her head, but they didn’t escape her mouth. Her struggle to break the binds that tied her was similarly useless. She was unable to move much at all, a few inches with her hands, her legs. She was almost stuck fast, roped and bonded to whatever it was.
She didn’t know how she had got there. It was a blur of darkness and noise. A hand over her mouth as she slept, then an arm across her throat until she had seen bright stars and then, nothingness.
There was no reason for her to be there.
If she had just ignored what she had found out, then she would never have put herself there.
She wanted to scream at that thought.
She needed to get free. She struggled again, a rumbling in the back of her throat, as she used all her strength to try and break whatever was holding her down.
It was no use. She wasn’t going to escape.
Natasha thought of Mark. Imagined him bursting into the… room? Warehouse? She didn’t know what. It didn’t matter. If he could find her, she knew he would help her get out of that place.
There was a noise somewhere in front of her, then a distinct changing of the atmosphere. It became colder somehow, as if the little heat that was in there had been sucked out.