Truth or Die

by Katerina Diamond

  ‘I saw the interview with Blackwell,’ Walsh said. ‘He was evasive, but that’s not unusual with younger people, especially stoners, they can be quite paranoid.’

  ‘I don’t really want to presume too much at this point, but I think the water just got a lot muddier. His fear of Russ Beacham seemed disproportionate; from what we have heard about the boy so far from everyone else, he was quiet and reserved. But then if he was a part of this game then maybe he is good at pretending to be something he is not to his family and friends.’

  ‘Not to mention those sick videos Gary uncovered. If that is Beacham, then Blackwell’s fear seems entirely reasonable. Don’t forget we haven’t got full access to those psych reports yet,’ Matt reminded her.

  Just then a car pulled up and a tired, angry-looking man in a tracksuit got out. He pulled out a bunch of keys from his pocket and went straight to the padlock chain on the door without saying a word. Four locks later, the door was open and they were going inside.

  Although there had definitely been people inside since the building had shut down, it wasn’t inhabited now. Kids probably went there to drink these days, Imogen thought. As they progressed through the corridor, Imogen could smell that unforgettable smell. The sweet rotting odour of a dead body that had been left to its own devices for several days. The last time they had been confronted with something like this, Imogen had thrown her clothes away afterwards. Not even detergent could get rid of that smell. It got inside you. Was this another victim? Whose body were they about to find? Had Parker already found the person he was looking for?

  ‘Have you had a problem with squatters at this building at all?’ Imogen asked the estate agent.

  ‘One or two. Nothing significant. They are usually gone after a day or so,’ the man said, covering his mouth and squinting. ‘What is that smell?’

  ‘You can wait here if you want. I have a feeling you’re not going to want to see what we find in that room over there,’ Imogen said, looking at Matt Walsh knowingly.

  ‘There’s definitely a dead body in this building somewhere,’ Matt said rather less subtly.

  ‘Could be a fox? We’ve had a couple of those getting through the back,’ the estate agent said hopefully.

  ‘Best to stay here, be on the safe side,’ Matt suggested.

  The man’s face had softened from anger into obedience. Thankfully he wasn’t one of those curious types who were fascinated with the idea of a dead body. Whenever they got one of those, Imogen made a mental note to remember their face, because there was something very disturbing about a person who could take delight in the dead.

  Imogen proceeded with caution. There was one closed door at the end of the hallway and they both knew that there was someone inside. Who it was, was another matter. Knowing how this case had gone so far, they couldn’t be sure of anything. And they certainly hadn’t been ahead of the game at any point in time. The estate agent was a way behind them now, still hovering by the door. Imogen had learned to brace herself whenever the possibility of a body left by Parker was on the cards. She put her hand on the doorknob and glanced at Matt.

  ‘Ready?’

  ‘As I’ll ever be,’ he said.

  Imogen turned the doorknob and pushed the door a little. The smell intensified and she coughed as it hit the back of her throat. She found herself wanting to close her eyes, but she didn’t. The room was dark and the blinds were drawn shut. Matt shone his torch into the room. There were some chairs and a couple of tall dark wooden cupboards. That’s when they saw the body slumped against the wall in the corner next to one of the cupboards. It was settled like a sack of flour settles into its creases and folds. There was a pulsating buzz around it – the heat of the room had brought in the insects and they had started to feast on whoever it was. There was the unmistakeable sound of rats – hard to explain if you have never heard it, but it was a sinister clicking shuffle with the occasional squeak.

  As they got closer, the smell got worse. Imogen could see the fabric was writhing with movement as her eyes pulled into focus. The face was directed at the wall, away from them, so they had to get close and lean over the body in order to see who it was. DI Walsh shone his flashlight into the corner and Imogen leaned over the body, holding onto Matt’s arm for support. There was no way to know at first glance how the boy had died, but another piece of the puzzle had been solved. Russ Beacham was dead.

  Imogen felt a twinge of dread as she thought about having to tell the mother that her son was gone. In the whole of her job, that was the worst possible part. And whenever she had broken the news to a parent, she’d felt her insides twist up and knot with grief for them. Saying sorry and offering condolences was utterly pointless. The best thing Imogen could do when they found a dead son or daughter was to find the killer and bring them to justice.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Matt said.

  ‘He’s just a kid. He shouldn’t be here.’

  ‘Let’s get the techs up here to examine the scene. I can’t see any obvious cause of death.’

  ‘This poses another problem. If Russ is here, dead, then he didn’t kill Caitlin at the very least. He’s been here a few days. Judging by all the activity, a week or more.’

  ‘We need to contact the station and tell them to keep hold of Blackwell.’

  They left the room and walked back to the estate agent, who was standing exactly where they had left him, a tired grimace on his face.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘We found a body in one of the back rooms. This site needs to stay closed to the public for the foreseeable, which doesn’t look like it’s going to be an issue. We do need to call some crime scene technicians in, and some constables will come and mind the scene. I’m sure you don’t want to hang around for that.’

  ‘You can keep the keys for now. We have a spare set at the office.’ He thrust the keys at Imogen. ‘I will let the owner of the building know what’s been going on here.’

  ‘OK. Thank you for coming down here. You’ve been a great help. It’s important that we are able to control this information with the press, so if you could see your way to not telling anyone other than the owner that would also be great,’ Matt said.

  The estate agent was backing away almost imperceptibly; he just wanted to get out of there.

  ‘Could you also send us over any details you know of the building, the owner’s contact details and anyone else involved in the sale? If you know of anyone else with access that could also be useful to us.’ Imogen handed him her card.

  He snatched it and smiled nervously before stuffing it in his pocket.

  The estate agent hurried outside; Imogen and Matt followed him just in time to see him slam his car door and pull away noisily, and then they were alone again on the street. It was still dark. Imogen looked at her watch. The way the night was progressing, she wasn’t sure she’d even get a chance to go home and have a shower, let alone sleep.

  She pulled out her phone and called Adrian. No answer. She called Gary instead.

  ‘Hi, we found Russ Beacham’s body in Scarborough Street. DI Walsh is securing the scene and calling techs in. Is Adrian still there?’

  ‘No, he left just before Finn Blackwell was released.’

  ‘Blackwell’s gone? Bugger,’ Imogen said.

  ‘Only just, last half hour. Don’t know where Adrian went though.’

  ‘I have tried his phone, but it went straight to answerphone. I don’t suppose you can find out where he is?’

  ‘I’m just checking now. That’s funny …’ Gary said.

  ‘What’s funny?’ Imogen said.

  ‘His phone is off. He is either out of range or asleep already, I guess.’

  ‘He doesn’t switch his phone off to sleep,’ Imogen said.

  ‘Oh yeah – how would you know?’ Gary jibed, unaware that he had made her blush.

  ‘Because we sometimes get calls in the middle of the night,’ she answered quickly.

  ‘I’ll see if I can find out where he went. He’s
not answering his house phone either.’

  ‘We’re just waiting for the uniforms then we’ll be back at the station. Keep trying.’

  Imogen hung up the phone. Something was definitely not right. She didn’t even need to think about it for too long to know that Adrian was doing something stupid. Knowing how susceptible he was to guilt, she expected he’d taken it upon himself to try to fix things. Now she just had to figure out where he had gone and what exactly he was trying to do.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  The room came into focus and Adrian tried to reach up to his head, but he couldn’t move his hands. He was taped to a chair at his wrists, elbows, knees and ankles. He could taste blood on his lips; he’d been punched in the face. The room was dark, with only one candle lit on top of a piano that was nestled in one of the alcoves. Adrian couldn’t make much else out about the room; the curtains were drawn and there was a dusty smell in the air. As he adjusted to his surroundings, he could hear gentle breathing. He scoured the room for a sign of his attackers.

  ‘Hello, Detective Miles,’ Parker said.

  For the briefest of moments, a surge of dread ran through Adrian’s body as he thought that Parker had strapped him to the chair. He didn’t want to turn but he did. Parker was in a chair not three feet away from him, also strapped in. His face was covered in blood; he looked like he had taken a couple of punches. All in all, this was a better situation than the one Adrian had assumed he was in less than five seconds ago.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Adrian asked.

  Parker ignored the question.

  ‘Where are we?’ Adrian added.

  ‘This is my house, I grew up here,’ Parker said.

  Adrian felt a chill as Parker said the words, the coldness of the house suddenly making sense. Adrian had seen some of the horrors that Parkers had experienced in his youth and he imagined life wasn’t much better at home. He had to shake off the thoughts that were starting to creep up on him and focus on the task at hand. He didn’t know why he empathised with this man so much, but he really struggled to look at who he was now without remembering the photographs of the torture Parker had endured as a child. He couldn’t think about that now, but he heard Gary’s words in his head. Adrian didn’t know if he would ever be able to bring Parker in. The fact that Finn had found Parker in his own house made Adrian think he had underestimated Finn Blackwell.

  ‘Where is he? Where is Finn?’

  ‘The boy? He left a few moments ago, he got a phone call. He probably won’t be long,’ Parker said calmly.

  This situation was not upsetting him in the slightest – to look at him he could have been sitting on a sunlounger by a pool.

  ‘Have you been strapped to this chair the whole time he was in custody?’ Adrian said; although he had no doubt this was something Parker could easily cope with, after knowing the things he had endured before.

  ‘Is that where he was? Glad you were on to him, because I really wasn’t until the last minute.’

  ‘How did he overpower you? You’re bigger than him.’

  ‘I needed to know what he knew, so as soon as I realised he had found me here, I allowed him to get the upper hand so that I can find out more about him, find out who the other player is.’

  ‘Do you have a plan to get out of here?’ Adrian said, knowing he should be the one with the plan but acknowledging that he was completely unprepared for this.

  ‘Not yet, but something will come to me.’

  ‘Does he know who you are?’

  ‘Someone knows who I am, but he doesn’t seem to have a clue. He seems quite paranoid and disturbed.’

  ‘Did you find out anything about who is involved? Do you know who the final professor is?’

  ‘No. But he does take phone calls occasionally. I assume he is working with whoever is on the other end of the phone. They sent him here.’

  The chairs were particularly suited to this kind of thing, with the metal bars and leather straps in the exact places where it would be handy to wrap duct tape around and around, but Adrian couldn’t imagine that Parker wouldn’t have been able to break free in the twenty-four hours Finn Blackwell had been in custody and that made him nervous. What kind of person deliberately stays strapped to a chair for over a day, waiting for their captor to come back?

  ‘We need to get out of here,’ Adrian said.

  ‘He doesn’t know what he’s doing,’ Parker said. ‘I think if we hang on, the main player will show their face. This boy isn’t making any decisions for himself; he checks every step of the way what he is and is not allowed to do. Whoever the person is, they have covered themselves absolutely. The others were pretty smart, but he or she is like a ghost.’

  ‘You think it could be a woman?’

  ‘I have no idea who it is. I’ve looked through everything I found. I need more time. You go if you need to,’ Parker said as though that were a possibility.

  They heard a noise and the sound of Finn’s voice getting closer again. He was agitated and muttering to himself, unhappy with what he had heard on the other end of the phone no doubt. The kingpin of this operation was going to hang Finn out to dry, there was no question about that. How could Adrian convince Finn that was the case though?

  Adrian couldn’t help but wonder what Parker was thinking. Was he planning a way to escape or was his plan literally just to wait and see what happened next, then judge whether he needed to make a move or not? Maybe he was thinking about a way to kill Finn. Was that how simple it was for him? To just decide that someone needed to die and then do it. That was crazy. But then Adrian couldn’t deny how horrifying those crime scenes he had attended had been and even worse were the videos that Gary had showed him. The abstract idea of Parker was far more comfortable than being in close proximity to him.

  Finn came back into the room, rubbing his hair and scratching at his forehead, distressed and confused, clearly unsure how to handle the situation and conflicted by whatever he had just heard on the phone. He paced and occasionally side-eyed Adrian as though he were an inconvenience he would rather not deal with.

  ‘Talk to me, Finn,’ Adrian said, making sure to use his name.

  ‘I can’t,’ Finn said.

  ‘Where’s Russ? Is he coming here?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Were you just talking to him on the phone?’

  ‘No. Stop talking to me, I know what you’re doing.’ Finn smacked the side of his own head.

  ‘What is it you think I’m doing?’

  ‘You’re going to try and confuse me. He said you would.’

  ‘Who did? Russ?’

  ‘No! Shut up!’ Finn was getting more and more distressed.

  Adrian noted that Finn had said ‘he’, so that narrowed the field down a little; of course, this information was useless if Adrian couldn’t get out of there before Finn killed him.

  ‘How do you know whoever it is you spoke to hasn’t called the police already? Maybe they are on their way here. If you get caught with us like this then you will go to prison for a very long time.’

  ‘I told you to be quiet!’

  ‘Look, just tell me the name of the person who has been telling you what to do.’

  ‘I can’t. He can protect me, you can’t.’

  ‘I very much doubt he can protect you from the law, he is protecting himself. We found you, Finn, if he was protecting you then we wouldn’t have been able to.’

  ‘Stop talking!’ Finn cuffed Adrian hard across the face.

  As his head snapped to the side, he saw Parker watching Finn, eyes glassy and wide like marbles, measuring every single thing Finn did. Parker was like a cat watching a mouse, knowing exactly how this encounter was going to end.

  Adrian could taste blood inside his mouth where his cheek mashed into his teeth.

  ‘Was he protecting Caitlin, too? Because she didn’t come out of this too well,’ Adrian said.

  ‘She was going to tell on us, she had to be stopped,’ Finn said. It was almost a confessi
on.

  ‘So, it wasn’t suicide then?’

  Finn punched Adrian again, his fist connecting with his ear. Adrian had braced for it and so he recovered quickly.

  ‘Stop confusing me! Caitlin was talking to the cops. She promised she would never go against me and then she did that. She lied to me. She lied to me just like she lied to everyone else.’

  ‘Is that why you killed Hugh Norris? Did someone tell you to do that? Was it Caitlin? Were you sleeping with her, Finn? How about Doctor Norris, was Caitlin the student he was having the affair with?’

  Finn was rubbing his temples, his eyes clamped shut as though he were trying to push the image of Hugh Norris and Caitlin out of his mind.

  ‘I’m trying to think.’

  ‘What about the man who tells you what to do? Did he have a thing with Caitlin as well? She was a beautiful girl, maybe he was jealous of your relationship with her and so he lied to you about what she was telling us. Aside from clearing my name, she didn’t tell us anything.’

  ‘You’re lying! How else would you know all the stuff you know about what we were doing?’

  ‘He might be telling the police you did it all. Caitlin wouldn’t tell us anything.’

  ‘She must have!’

  ‘Is that why you killed her? Did the professor tell you that she was talking to us?’ Adrian said, assuming he was talking about another professor: all the evidence seemed to point that way.

  ‘I don’t have a choice! I have to do what he says!’

  ‘Why is that?’ Adrian said.

  ‘Because I’ve done too many bad things; he knows everything.’

  ‘If you were coerced into doing the things you did then there is a possibility you won’t spend the rest of your life in prison.’

  ‘I’ve killed people, and that’s not all I’ve done,’ Finn said.

  ‘Which people did you kill?’ Adrian said.

  ‘Owen. Doctor Norris, Russ … and Caitlin.’