The Players

by Darren O’Sullivan

  ‘Just, um, I’ve got my eye on you, DI Holt.’

  ‘In the bathroom? Bit weird, Rawlinson…’

  Just before turning the corner on my way to the toilets I looked back, and he turned away quickly. I was sure there was a sign of a blush on his cheek. Smiling, I disappeared into the ladies.

  ‘Howard?’

  A cubicle door opened, and Howard stepped out.

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘So now we’re forced into secret meetings in the ladies loo?’ I said.

  ‘Karen, I’m sorry, I had a gagging order out on me.’

  ‘I guessed as much.’

  ‘I don’t want you to think…’

  ‘Howard, it’s OK, I assume it came from the top?’

  ‘Yes, but through Rawlinson who was only too pleased to tell me if you and I talked, I’d likely be removed from the case. Possibly suspended.’

  ‘Suspended? Bit extreme. He’s probably bluffing.’

  ‘I think he added that bit, I can’t see Bradshaw throwing around threats like that.’

  ‘Agreed. So what happened after I left last night?’

  ‘The man, John Stroud, didn’t make it,’ Howard said, shaking his head.

  ‘And the woman?’

  ‘His wife, Maggie.’

  ‘His wife?’ I echoed, surprised. The Host’s choice of a couple was an unsettling development. ‘He’s forcing us to consider how we would treat someone we love,’ I murmured.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Was she able to tell us anything new?’

  ‘Nothing more than we already know. Robotic voice, motorbike helmet. Rules and time.’

  ‘And the camera, I’m guessing?’

  ‘Yep, he filmed it again.’

  ‘Which means there’s another video coming soon.’

  Howard nodded.

  ‘Have we got anything to work with, or are we waiting for him to lead?’

  ‘There’s one camera which caught some of last night’s incident, a decades’ old one on the roof of the rowing club building.’

  ‘Do you have it?’

  ‘Yes. But I don’t know how to get it to you.’

  I thought for a second. Rawlinson was no doubt watching like a hawk. I didn’t want Howard to end up in trouble.

  ‘Well, it’s probably time to start thinking like a rule breaker if we’re forced to be one. I’ll get a pay-as-you-go phone. And I’ll message.’

  ‘A burner?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  Howard chuckled. ‘Could you imagine us having to do this a month ago? Secret meetings in the ladies loo. You talking of getting a burner phone just so we can speak.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I smiled but it didn’t quite reach my eyes. All this subterfuge because of what I’d done. I pressed on. ‘Did you find the train symbol?’

  ‘Yes. It was on a rock close to the water’s edge.’

  I nodded. ‘Anything about the rock that seemed unusual?’

  ‘It was lighter in colours than others around it. That’s what drew my eye. It’s man-made. Concrete or something. It’s being looked at now.’

  ‘So it was placed there.’

  ‘Yeah. It must have been.’

  ‘So that’s our clue. Any ideas?’

  ‘None so far, but we’ll keep digging.’

  ‘OK. I’d better go, before Rawlinson gets suspicious. When the coast is clear I’ll message so you can sneak out.’

  I left the loo and walked past Rawlinson, who pretended to work, and towards Bradshaw’s office. His door was open and he was back from wherever he’d been. I messaged Howard, and moments later he too walked past Rawlinson. He noticed Howard and eyed me suspiciously once more. I tapped three times on the doorframe, Bradshaw looked up from his computer screen and smiled.

  ‘Come in, Karen, shut the door, take a seat.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Karen, look…’ he began, his face pained, regretful.

  ‘Sir, I can explain last night. I met Howard for a pint at the Woodman and then we walked along the river. It was pure coincidence we were close to the scene.’

  ‘Was it?’ he said, removing his glasses to fix his gaze on me. ‘Honestly? You know I don’t believe in coincidences, DI Holt; neither do you, I suspect.’

  ‘No, sir,’ I admitted.

  ‘You were there because you knew the next murder had something to do with the river.’

  ‘Yes, sir. I was following the adage, “take life where life began”.’

  ‘Yes, I was filled in on your reasoning.’

  ‘It was DS Carlson that worked…’

  ‘Karen, we both know that’s not true.’ His expression softened. ‘Good thinking.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘I just wish I had more officers to follow it up.’

  ‘Me too, sir.’

  ‘Now, officially, I have to reprimand you. You know full well you shouldn’t have been there last night, coincidence or not.’

  ‘I know, sir.’

  ‘Unofficially,’ he said quietly, ‘this investigation is a mess and I need my best people working on it. I know there is very little I can say to stop your mind working overtime, Karen. However, from now on in, if you have a thought, a notion, an idea, you come directly to me, is that understood?’

  ‘Sir, if I could come back into the investigation properly, I know—’

  ‘Well, you can’t. You know my hands are tied. I had to beg the IOPC to allow you to come back on restricted duty to visit schools. How many did you manage before somehow worming your way back into this investigation?’

  ‘Just the one, sir.’ If I told him the truth – that I hadn’t even made one – I’d not be allowed even on restricted duty.

  ‘Karen, I want you back. But you have to play ball for the time being.’

  ‘Understood, sir.’

  ‘No more putting yourself in the thick of it, and I daren’t ask what happened to your face.’

  I opened my mouth to say something, but Bradshaw stopped me.

  ‘I don’t want to know. From now on in, Howard Carlson is off limits, he’s under orders not to talk to you. I know you’re close, but best to stay away, especially because it might look like you’re trying to influence him on the Grayson James incident.’

  ‘Sir, I wouldn’t—’

  ‘I know, Karen, believe me, I do, but the IOPC are keeping tabs now. They got wind you might be breaking the limitations of restricted duty and have warned me, if they find out, you are in deep, deep shit.’

  He didn’t need to say how the IOPC got wind, it was obvious: Rawlinson. The snivelling prick.

  ‘So to be clear, you’ll be in uniform, only visiting schools. Nothing more. Understood?’

  ‘Understood, sir.’

  ‘And only speak to me from now on if you have any leads. That way, I will hear them properly.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Good, now get out of here, and as you leave, look pissed off.’

  ‘Pissed off, sir?’

  ‘Certain people requested I had a show of force today.’

  ‘I understand, sir, thank you, sir.’

  I got up to leave, but as I opened the door Bradshaw stopped me.

  ‘Karen, I mean it, don’t do anything stupid that forces my hand.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Mind if I slam the door?’

  ‘Not at all.’ He smiled.

  I stepped out of the office and slammed the door. Several heads looked up, Howard looked concerned, Rawlinson pleased. I didn’t say anything but lowered my head and stormed out of the office. I booked out a police car, and once the keys were in my hand and I was heading to the lot to collect it, I messaged Sam, asking if she still wanted me to come in. She messaged back a thumbs-up emoji. Another message straight after saying to ring when five minutes away.

  First, though, I needed to go and buy myself a burner phone.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  The Host

  9.16 a.m.

  He sat with two scarlet-colo
ured pipe cleaners in his hands, bending and shaping them into a person. This one wouldn’t go on the shelf with the small but ever-growing group of individuals, survivors, victims. Just like him. No, this one was going to sit on his desk, act as a reminder that he needed to be more vigilant than ever. He finished shaping it and could almost feel it watching him, wanting to speak to him. He placed it down next to his computer monitor and smiled.

  ‘Hello, Karen, it’s a delight to meet you properly at last. I’m looking forward to you playing The Game. You might be the best Player yet.’

  Chapter Forty-Six

  1.25 p.m.

  As Sam and I got our lunch from the school canteen, I could feel many eyes on me, or rather my uniform. I tried to ignore it, as most pupils were just being curious, but there was one young person who particularly stood out – when she saw me she looked edgy and then quickly left. As she exited, she was already on her phone, texting away. I didn’t get a good look at her, but her behaviour suggested she may have had a run-in with the police at some point, probably for drinking or loitering or something similar. Despite it being the twenty-first century, there was still a stigma around coppers. It had lessened in the eleven years I’d been on the force, but it probably would always be there.

  A group of boys started to mess around; at first it was just boys being boys, but it quickly escalated to them throwing food at each other and rough-housing. Sam jumped up and as she approached they stopped. They were scared of being told off by their head of year. While Sam had a polite word with them, I checked my phone for a news update, then seeing Sam still distracted, I pulled out the cheap Nokia pay-as-you-go phone I’d bought to see if Howard had messaged back. Nothing as yet.

  Around the canteen there was a sudden crescendo of noise, a hundred voices all calling at one another, then, shortly after, silence. I jumped up, knocking my orange juice over the table top, and headed to the closest group of teens who had fallen silent. Sam and I joined their small circle watching the screen of a Samsung phone. We knew what it was immediately. The familiar helmet of The Host filled the screen as he relayed his message. Then, the image switched to a point-of-view shot of two older, frightened people, and we watched as the latest Game began.

  I should have confiscated the phone, told every single student to put theirs away, or risk being arrested. I knew they shouldn’t see what was about to happen, they were all too young. I knew but did nothing. Despite anticipating the posting of this new video, I felt my diaphragm snap, like an elastic band that had been stretched too far. I was aware Sam was saying something to me, but her words sounded like they were coming from underwater as panic began to flood into my ears. There were too many people here, too many eyes on me, and I was powerless to move. Eventually, I managed to push out a feeble plea for the kids to put their phones away, and although I had no impact, my voice too meek, too small, it snapped Sam and the other teachers into action and they swept through the canteen, quickly confiscating phones from students. The kid with the Samsung handed it to me without being asked.

  The video was hardest to watch yet, not because of its violence but its tenderness. After the man disappeared beneath the surface, the woman’s wail of grief was so harrowing I could barely watch. Then The Host returned to the screen, closing with the same words as before. I expected the video to end there, but the image of the rowing lake came back onto the screen, and the scene kept rolling, albeit from a distance.

  In the shot, the woman was sitting on the bank, her feet in the water. Behind her, the dog whimpered ceaselessly. I looked up, Sam was at the other end of the canteen, looking at her phone as young people around panicked. Before I could divert Sam, the video showed Howard and me running to help, the camera switching off once I was kneeling beside the woman, looking around for the victim, my gaze landing directly on the camera. In the final frozen frame, my despair clear to see. His voice returned over the image.

  ‘To those in the video, if you think you’re so smart, come find me. You were close, but not close enough. Perhaps this time, you’ll have better luck. I will play tonight at 8.00 p.m. Maybe I will see you there, Karen Holt.’

  Then the screen faded to black.

  I couldn’t move, nor could I hear anything around me, and I had to grab a nearby chair to stop myself falling. He knew my name. Somehow, he knew my name.

  As my eyes met Sam’s I could see her disappointment that I had placed myself in harm’s way and maybe even put her in danger too. The Host’s message was a warning, a threat directed at me. Around the room, phones that teachers had not managed to confiscate began to drop to tables and into laps. No one spoke. The video was too harrowing, too heartbreaking. But I sensed that fear wasn’t the biggest emotion in the room, it was anger. Sam’s anger.

  ‘I wanted to tell you,’ I mouthed.

  Sam just looked at me, then shook her head before walking off, telling the students to begin to make their way to the hall. I didn’t move. As the young people filed out a small girl, likely a year seven, tapped my arm, drawing my attention.

  ‘You have to stop him,’ she said, her voice delicate, tears in her eyes. Then she lowered her head and followed the crowd.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Carlson

  2.41 p.m.

  Five hours and nineteen minutes until the next Game

  Howard’s phone alarm sounded, stirring him from a fitful sleep. Rolling onto his side he saw the time – if he snoozed he’d sleep for another hour, so he sat up, groaning deeply. The last few days had been hard; the lack of sleep, stress, physical exhaustion had all begun to show. Bradshaw insisted after Karen had left that he go home and get some shut-eye, even just a few hours. Stopping his alarm, he saw a message from Becca, and when it opened a video of Jess sprung to life.

  ‘Hi, Daddy, I cannot wait to see you!’

  ‘I can’t either,’ he replied, despite knowing it was a recording and she wouldn’t hear. Jess waved and moved to play with her toys. The video spun and Becca filled the screen. Carlson felt his heart skip.

  ‘Hey, Howard, so we are gonna aim for early evening, around teatime? That OK with you? I hope you’re all right. I saw the video from last night. Call me if you need me, I mean it.’

  The camera spun again, and Jess was back on screen.

  ‘Say bye to Daddy.’

  ‘Bye, Daddy!’ Jess waved.

  ‘Bye,’ Becca echoed. ‘We love you.’

  The video finished and Carlson stared at the screen a little longer, the last image of his smiling girl melting away the aches he felt. He rolled out of bed, turned on the TV and flicked to Sky News. They were discussing what was happening, which wasn’t a surprise. The shock came when he heard the news presenter say Karen’s name.

  ‘What the…’

  Picking up his mobile, he searched on social media, his stomach dropping when he saw The Host had posted the next video. He watched it, blinking hard to stop a tear falling. At the end he saw himself and Karen run in.

  ‘Fuck.’

  Howard dressed quickly and headed out to go back to Thorpe Wood, knowing he would be needed. As he opened the front door, a person walking past jumped.

  ‘Sorry!’ Howard said, an automatic response.

  ‘No, it’s OK. You just startled me,’ the person replied, smiling at Howard before lowering his head and walking away.

  Howard jumped into his car and backed out of his drive, not knowing that the man he had apologised to – who’d just smiled politely – was, in fact, the same man he’d walked past on the day of the Second Game. The man he’d locked eyes with on the night of the third.

  Three times in one week, Carlson had been within grabbing distance of The Host, and he hadn’t even known it.

  Emily Curtis > Peterborough Free Discussion

  Hi, everyone, with what is going on, I have been elected to be an administrator for this Facebook page. It’s probably a good time to recap the group’s code of conduct we all agreed when joining. This group is to discuss anything
happening in our city. If anyone is found to be abusive or sharing videos of the horrific crimes happening you will be removed from the group.

  771 Comments

  Johnny Ormo

  Nicely put, Emily! I’m sure all members agree. I didn’t know you were admin?

  Emily Curtis

  I approached the page owner last night, asked if I could help.

  Johnny Ormo

  That’s really good of you.

  Emily Curtis

  I noticed that with The Host’s attacks the page is a lot busier. I just don’t want anyone to feel like they can use this page to stir up fear.

  Johnny Ormo

  I agree. Good for you.

  Amanda Belkin

  I just saw the latest video and it’s truly horrific – for me it’s the worst one. Imagine having to do that to someone you loved. And who were those two people in the video?

  Johnny Ormo

  I think they were police.

  Amanda Belkin

  God, they were so close to him and didn’t even know.

  Jack Anderson

  I just want this bastard to be caught.

  Johnny Ormo

  Me too. I was afraid, but not now, I’m so pissed off. We need to stop this guy.

  Emily Curtis

  I hate that he can control us.

  Claire Turner

  Control us?

  Emily Curtis

  He’s stating the times, so we all panic. We need to show him we are better than that.

  Johnny Ormo

  I hear you, Emily. But how?

  Emily Curtis

  I don’t know. But I want something to happen, you know? We are all crippled by this thing, and he is thriving on it. He made a married couple play his evil Game. Enough is enough.

  Claire Turner

  Yes! I agree, I’ve been feeling this way since Roberta – who is he to play God? I’m tired of being afraid. I’m tired of trying to explain to my kids what is happening in the world. They are eleven and nine. They know something awful is going on. I shouldn’t have to tell them what. The Host doesn’t control us. We are in charge of our own lives.