Imogen and Adrian said goodbye to Ms Beacham and walked back to the car. The sky had clouded over since they had been inside the flat. Imogen found herself shivering; she still kept seeing Caitlin’s ashen face and she needed to get it out of her mind somehow. She couldn’t help feeling like they had failed her, even after what she had done.
She looked over at Adrian as she got in the car. His face was screwed up in a mixture of concentration and concern.
‘Thoughts?’ Imogen said.
‘He was in it, wasn’t he? Even the fact of the one-parent family unit makes him a slightly more vulnerable person.’
‘Hey! I was in a one-parent family.’
‘So was I for the most part. I’m not saying anything other than, in terms of vulnerability, that leaves him a little more open to manipulation.’
‘I suppose.’
‘Do you think Caitlin was part of the manipulation?’ Adrian said.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Beacham was an average-looking kid, Caitlin was not; maybe one of her tasks was to make Beacham fall for her. It certainly wouldn’t be out of character for her to use her looks to get someone to do what she wanted.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that. That would make sense,’ Imogen said, aware that Adrian was talking about himself.
‘See, I’m not just a pretty face,’ Adrian smiled.
‘So, they get Caitlin together with Beacham, maybe to control him somehow. Then they draw him in by telling him that she is going to get hurt in some way.’
Imogen could see quite plainly that Beacham and Caitlin were not evenly matched in terms of looks. He wouldn’t have ever had a relationship with someone like her before.
‘Do you think he found out the truth and killed her for it?’ Adrian asked.
‘It’s possible I suppose,’ Imogen said.
‘Maybe he killed Norris when he found out the truth as well.’
‘So, Beacham just got promoted to suspect number one?’
‘By default, if nothing else,’ Adrian said.
‘So, he’s just gone rogue and is cleaning up?’ Imogen said.
‘Or someone is saying the right things to make him do what he’s doing. We have at least one more major player and one more kid. It could be either one of them. What about if we get Gary to look through university student social media accounts? See if he can find any pictures of Beacham, either in the background or something – even without access to private accounts, there are plenty of public pictures.’
‘That sounds like it would take a ridiculous amount of time.’ Imogen groaned internally.
‘He loves that kind of thing. At the very least, he could round up as many pics as possible and we could look through them. We might be able to find out who Russ Beacham was hanging out with. See if we can see which lecturers he was engaged with the most. It’s got to be worth a try.’
‘Blimey, Miley, do you need to lie down now? Those were a lot of thoughts.’
‘Lying down sounds good.’ He smiled at her.
The heat rose in her cheeks as she realised what he was implying. It was strange; she forgot a lot of the time that things had changed between them, mainly because so little had changed in the day-to-day. So far, he had been completely work-focused when they were on duty, which is why that comment had caught her so unawares.
‘Right then, I’ll let Gary know what we need,’ Imogen said after the briefest moment; the foray into flirtation was short-lived. Back to work.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Adrian stared at the big monitor as Gary put up picture after picture from the university campus. Knowing that Russ Beacham had only started that previous September meant they didn’t have to go back that far, but still, the amount of information was ludicrous. Between Facebook and Instagram alone, Gary had found over five thousand pictures, all public. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. After three hours staring at the screen, Adrian wanted to poke his eyes out. Imogen returned to the room with hot coffee and some bagels.
‘Any luck?’ she said.
‘What do you think?’ Adrian groaned; maybe a bagel would keep him awake. They had to get ahead of this, though. They couldn’t wait until someone else turned up dead and so it was a night of coffee and junk food for them.
‘Well it was a long shot.’ Imogen sighed and sat down, looking at the screen.
‘If I stare at these screens any longer, I’m going to go crazy,’ Adrian said as he massaged his own shoulder. A sharp pain ran across the width of his back and he was trying to get rid of it.
‘Spoiler alert. You already are,’ Imogen said.
‘We’ve got plenty more to go. When I click through to friends and their friends, I just keep finding more,’ Gary offered with a little too much enthusiasm, considering how dull the task was.
‘No one connected with Beacham though?’
‘He’s not on social media. Bizarrely,’ Gary said.
‘I’m not on social media, what’s bizarre about that?’ Adrian asked. He had been thinking about joining, for about ten years now if he was honest. He just didn’t want to get sucked into that world. He heard all the conversations in the station of things people did online and he was utterly baffled by it. It made the world feel so much smaller. So he stayed away from it. Maybe now Tom was a bit older he might consider it so that they could stay in touch.
‘Couldn’t he just be on there under a fake account? Or a parody account or something?’ Imogen said.
‘He could.’ Gary nodded.
Gary pulled up a picture someone had taken of a person asleep in the lecture hall. Adrian spotted Russ Beacham sitting in the background, staring ahead.
‘There he is – if he is in lessons with these people, then maybe this is the circle of people we need to focus on.’
Gary pulled up a few more pictures from the same social media account and from accounts linked to it. Nothing.
At least they had seen him once, that was a start.
The time passed slowly, and it became increasingly difficult to stay focused. A picture of some girls with Caitlin popped up and it was like a kick in the face for Adrian. Gary skipped past it to the next. It showed the same girls, only this time, Caitlin wasn’t with them, she was in the background talking to someone. It wasn’t Russ Beacham, but Adrian knew the face.
‘Wait!’ Adrian said before Gary skipped past. ‘I’ve seen him before.’
‘The guy talking to Caitlin? Where?’ Imogen asked.
‘Here. He was in here for something. Something really minor.’ Adrian tried to think back to when he had seen him. ‘Driving over the limit.’
Adrian stood up. It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? Was this kid the missing link? He remembered his countenance at the time of his arrest. He hadn’t seemed particularly fazed by the experience.
‘Can you remember when or what his name was? Or do we have to go through all the drink-driving offences?’ Imogen sighed.
‘Give me a second. It’s on the tip of my tongue.’ Adrian closed his eyes, searching for the name of the student that had made enough of an impression to secure a place in his memory. ‘Finn. Finn Blackwell.’
‘I’ll pull up his file.’
Moments later, Gary pulled up an image of Finn Blackwell and put it next to the image of Caitlin with the young man. It was the same person.
‘Do you have an address for him?’ Imogen said with a mouthful of bagel. She stood up and put her coat on, ready to go.
‘We had better speak to the DCI first. Appraise her of the situation,’ Adrian suggested.
‘She’s got an early meeting with the press, so she went home. We can’t wait until then. Finn Blackwell is either dangerous or in danger. I’ll tell Matt to let her know. We need to pick him up now,’ Imogen said. ‘Does Blackwell have any priors, Gary?’
Adrian could tell she was still thinking about Caitlin’s dead body. He was glad he hadn’t seen it himself but sorry that he couldn’t have been there to support Imo
gen. She had always fiercely identified with the victims in their cases, especially young and vulnerable females. He wondered if she was remembering close calls in her own life; even since he had known her she had had more than her fair share of them.
‘I’ll see what I can dig up about him while you’re out. And I’ll let the DCI know what’s going on,’ Gary said.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Imogen and Adrian knocked on the door to Finn Blackwell’s room in the halls of residence. The security officer had shown them inside and left them standing there, having gone back to his night watch. Adrian knocked again. The corridor was silent, and the lighting was dim, enough to light the way, but actually the semi-darkness felt quite imposing. There was the sound of various types of music coming from behind the many doors; it was a strange atmosphere. Adrian had expected it to be buzzing.
The door opened and Finn stood in front of them eating a bowl of cereal.
Finn was wearing pyjamas, he had music playing in the background and there were books pulled out across his bed.
‘Can I help you?’
‘Finn Blackwell?’ Adrian asked, knowing the answer because they had met before, although there didn’t even seem to be a remote spark of recognition on Finn’s face.
‘Yes. What is it?’
Imogen held up her warrant card and Finn leaned forwards, squinting to read the words.
‘We need to ask you a few questions. Would you mind coming to the station with us?’
‘What is this about?’
‘I think it’s better if we speak down at the station,’ Imogen said.
‘I’m not even dressed.’
‘We can wait.’
At the station, they put Finn in an interrogation room and left him there for a few moments, watching him on the security cam to see how he was dealing with the situation. Finn was different to the last time Adrian had met him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it was like he was less confident or cocky in some way. Maybe it was the alcohol in his system when they met the last time, but this boy didn’t seem like trouble at all.
‘Do you think he was the person who attacked you?’ Imogen asked.
‘He doesn’t seem the type, does he?’
‘No, he doesn’t. Actually, seems quite nice. Quite sweet.’
The door opened and DCI Kapoor walked in. She crossed her arms and looked at the monitor.
‘We thought you went home?’ Imogen said.
‘Well, I came back. Would be nice to have a suspect name to take into my meeting tomorrow. Caitlin Watts’ death, aside from being a tragedy, is very bad optics for us,’ DCI Kapoor said. ‘Which one is this?’
‘This is Finn Blackwell. We haven’t questioned him yet, we’re just watching him for a little bit, to see what he does. He seems quite distraught.’
‘Why haven’t I heard that name before? Who is he?’
‘We saw him talking to Caitlin Watts in one of the social media images and I recognised him. I remembered that he was brought in when I was on the desk with Denise on Valentine’s Day. Gary looked into him a little and he could well be a part of whatever this is. He was in Helen Lassiter’s class. We thought we should question him, see if he’s involved.’
‘OK then. Let me know what happens. Adrian, I think you should take the lead on this interrogation as you have some history with the boy.’
‘Hardly.’
‘Still, it makes more sense.’
‘Fine, if you say so.’
‘I’ll stay in here and observe you both. No pressure. See if you can find out if he knows Russ Beacham and if he does know him, see if he knows where he is. We don’t have enough for a warrant yet. Everything we have on Beacham is circumstantial. And the only thing we have that connects this boy to this case is a photo of him talking to Caitlin? Knowing what she looked like, I expect there are plenty of pictures of her talking to plenty of guys or at least guys trying to talk to her. That’s really not enough.’
‘OK, I’ll see if I can dig deeper,’ Adrian said.
Adrian opened door and left the room, Imogen following closely behind. The DCI stayed.
There was something strangely innocent about Finn. Adrian found it hard to believe he could have murdered Hugh Norris; at the very least he didn’t seem to have the physical power it would have taken to smash his face in in that way. Adrian wasn’t one hundred per cent sure that Finn wasn’t the person who had attacked him on the night of Caitlin’s alleged assault though. It could have been him, but all he could really remember were the attacker’s eyes. Blue eyes, the most common eye colour in Britain, displayed by almost half the population in the South of England, higher the further north you went. It was hardly a lead. Maybe Finn was just a really good actor. One thing was certain, though: whatever he knew, they would find out.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Adrian crossed his arms and leaned on the table. Finn fidgeted nervously in front of him and his eyes darted around the room. Adrian could feel the heat of Imogen’s body next to him; he could feel her concentration and knew that her stare was making Finn uncomfortable. She was good at that.
‘Why am I here?’ Finn asked.
‘I think you know why you’re here, Finn. Do you remember me at all? We met on Valentine’s Day.’
‘Look, this is a mistake. I don’t know what you think I’ve done, but I haven’t done it.’
‘Caitlin Watts? What do you know about her?’
‘I heard that she died, that she killed herself. I didn’t really know her though.’
‘How did you hear that? It’s not common knowledge yet. Who told you?’
‘It’s all over the uni. You can’t keep a secret in that place. No one can.’
Finn’s agitation seemed to be increasing and Adrian could feel a gulf between them. There was no connection. Adrian shifted his gaze to Imogen, who took his cue and leaned forward as Adrian pulled back.
‘Do you know Russ Beacham?’ Imogen asked.
‘I’m not friends with him, he’s weird.’
‘Weird how?’ Adrian pushed. The mere mention of Beacham’s name and Finn’s face had turned white: he was afraid.
‘I don’t know how to explain it, he just sets my teeth on edge.’
‘In what way? What is it that he does that upsets you particularly?’ Adrian said.
‘I just steer clear of him.’ Finn’s eyes darted as the questions continued.
‘So, are you better friends with Caitlin or Russ?’ She slid the photo of Finn talking to Caitlin in front of him. He looked down. His thumb traced across Caitlin’s face. He looked confused for a moment and pushed the photo away.
‘I’ve hardly ever spoken to Caitlin before. She’s way out of my league.’
Adrian watched Finn. His eyes moved from the picture to Imogen to Adrian and back again as though he were trying to assess the situation. He had that look on his face, the kind you get when you just can’t remember something, when it’s on the tip of your tongue. Or maybe it was something else.
‘How about Russ? Can you tell us anything about Russ?’
‘He was aggressive, he drank a lot and he used to do those codeine drink combo things. You know, that “Purple Drank”, that’s what they call it, I think. I’ve never tried it myself, but it’s when you put a load of painkillers and cold medicine crushed up in a caffeine drink. You can chuck all kinds of shit in there. Russ used to put Fruit Polos in his.’
Adrian had heard of this before, new highs with over-the-counter drugs mixed in with high-sugar, high-caffeine energy drinks and anything they could find in the medicine cupboard at home. There was no recipe per se, but that was part of the fun. Some people called it ‘Lean’ and others use the American nickname of ‘Purple Drank’. Cases at the local hospital were on the rise, but there had been no local fatalities yet, just a lot of stomach pumping. He wondered if the high was worth it.
‘So how much time would you say you spent with Russ?’ Imogen said.
‘As little
as possible.’
‘Do you know about the game?’
‘What game?’ Finn’s eyes widened momentarily and he looked down to conceal the panic. He knew what she was talking about.
‘When I first met you, you were brought in for drink driving. You don’t seem to have a history of that sort of thing.’ Adrian glanced at Imogen, who had put her elbows on the table, leaning forwards. She had noticed Finn’s reaction, too. It was hard to hide in a tiny room when all eyes were on you.
‘I think my drink was spiked, I don’t remember too much. I remember waking up in a holding cell.’ He wasn’t convincing anyone.
‘So, you weren’t asked to do that? Forced to do it?’ Imogen pushed.
‘What are you talking about?’ Finn said, getting more agitated and looking at the door as if he wanted to try to make a run for it, or perhaps he thought someone was coming to save him.
He clearly hadn’t accounted for this situation. Wasn’t prepared for it. Whatever was going on with him, he seemed to be under the impression that this was all a big mistake. Had someone promised to keep him out of trouble?
Adrian decided to take a risk; after all, Finn wouldn’t know he was lying.
‘Caitlin told us about the game. About what you were being asked to do, by Helen Lassiter and the others. The drink driving, the attack on Caitlin.’
‘I didn’t attack her. I wouldn’t do that,’ Finn cried.
‘Was that Russ?’ Imogen asked.
‘It must have been. It wasn’t me. Russ was a psycho, you have no idea the things he was capable of.’
‘But you know what we’re talking about, don’t you?’ Imogen said.
‘I didn’t do anything. I swear to God I don’t know what you’re talking about!’
‘What other things have you been asked to do?’ Adrian said.
‘I don’t feel very well.’ Finn rubbed at his neck, which had gone an angry red colour; it looked more like a rash than embarrassment. He was sweating.
‘Did they make you hurt people?’ Imogen said.
‘Please, I need to lie down.’
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