by Alex Caan
Zain took the phone from him. Dan tried to grab it back.
‘Give it back to me, man, what is this?’
‘Just having a look. Interesting, some of these messages. Do you mind if we hang on to this, Mr Grant?’ said Zain.
‘Yeah, I do mind. You can’t come in here, taking my stuff. What is this? North Korea?’
‘We’re trying to build a picture of Ruby, anything that might help us locate her.’
Kate threw Zain a look; he gave the phone back to Dan.
‘Apart from texting her, when did you last have a proper conversation?’
‘Dunno, probably a week ago when I saw her.’
‘When was it exactly?’
Dan flicked through his phone.
‘Last Thursday, at 5 p.m. We met for a drink in a pub called The Garter, off Charing Cross Road.’
‘Just the two of you?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What did you talk about? How did she seem?’
‘Usual stuff, about our vlogs and shit. She was all right, normal.’
‘She didn’t seem different at all? Worried about anything?’
‘No, just normal, like I said.’
‘Her parents seem to think she had ended her relationship with you.’
Red crept up Dan’s thin neck, into his face. Anger and embarrassment, she thought.
‘Those jealous twats, you wanna watch them. They can’t stand me, they’ve been trying to get between me and Rubes for ages.’
‘So they made it up? You and Ruby didn’t break up?’
‘We were just going through some stuff, that’s all. Rubes is mine. She isn’t going anywhere, we were meant to be.’
Interesting turn of phrase, charged with the idea of ownership, thought Kate. ‘Do you feel Ruby belongs to you in some way?’ she said.
Dan glared at her, but didn’t deny it.
Chapter Eighteen
‘Do you have any idea who might wish to harm Ruby in this way? Did she ever speak about anyone, a fan possibly, somebody she might have been afraid of?’ said Kate.
‘No. Well, yes. Look, we are all out there, us Youtubers, we are the future. People, they leave all sorts of comments online, proper fucked-up, hateful shit. But they’re just trolls, jealous and bitter, cowards. Hiding behind their keyboards, so we just ignore all that.’
‘Any persistent trolls?’
‘A few, but they get smacked down by our fans.’
‘So she wasn’t concerned about her safety at all?’
‘No, not that she said. Looks like she should’ve been. Fuck, to think some sicko was planning this shit, right?’ Dan looked more animated than upset.
‘Yeah, some real sicko,’ said Zain, not very subtly.
‘What do you mean? You think I’m involved with this shit?’ Dan turned crimson again, staring wildly at Kate, turning his body away from Zain.
‘Nobody is saying anything of the sort,’ Kate said. ‘We are just trying to build a picture. Anything you can tell us will help. Was there anyone Ruby was in communication with? Any new friends she’d made online?’
Dan laughed at this. ‘She’s not ten or an idiot. She’s not gonna chat to some random freak online. I used to get it, all these old pervs pretending to be girls. We’re not stupid, we got wise to that stuff quickly. She didn’t get groomed, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘Is it possible she turned to someone, if she was depressed, for instance?’
‘She would turn to me, turn to her friends, turn to her millions of fans. Not some loner serial killer. Fuck’s sake.’
Zain leaned closer to Dan, making him shift away again an inch.
Kate tilted her head slightly in Zain’s direction. They had agreed on the way up that they would spring it on Dan, see how he reacted.
‘Ruby’s parents told us a little story,’ said Zain, almost speaking into Dan’s ear. ‘About you, a birthday party and a swimming pool. And the woman you threw into it.’
Dan jumped away from Zain, red and sweating.
‘What? What do you mean?’
‘They said that back in July, you had a birthday party, in a flash little hotel not too far from here. Said you threw a woman off a balcony. Is it true?’ said Zain.
‘No, that’s typical of them, fucking liars. You think I’d be sitting here if I did that? What the fuck! Those bastard parents are just . . . aaargh. They’d say anything, just to get rid of me.’
‘You’re saying they made it up?’ said Zain.
‘Too right. I’m going to sue them, spreading shit like that. Fucked up.’
‘Why would they invent something so . . . graphic?’ said Kate.
‘I told you, they want to get rid of me, split me and Rubes up. They’re sick, like real-life trolls.’
‘So it’s a lie? The Days lied to the police? The police looking for their missing daughter?’ said Harris.
‘You think because they have nice middle-class accents, live in a posh flat and dress in M&S, that they’re decent? They’re scum. And they’re liars.’
Zain moved away, looking at Kate. His blue eyes were bright against his olive skin, and he was smiling behind Dan’s head. The boyfriend that had just lied blatantly to the police.
‘You have no idea who might have wanted to harm Ruby?’ Kate said.
‘No,’ said Dan.
Kate wanted to keep this, have a hold over Dan in case she needed it going forward. She thought about the recording of the 999 call when Millie had fallen. Dan had just shown himself to be deceitful. His words meant nothing and, right now, he was fast becoming her prime suspect.
Chapter Nineteen
Kate got up, stretched her legs, walked to the window of Dan’s apartment. Her head was mulling over his denial of something they had proof of. She tried to sift through the things he had said, picking out anything that might show further fabrication.
The view looked across towards the City. The aircraft warning light on top of One Canada Square, the building commonly referred to as Canary Wharf, was dim in the sunshine. Its towers faint, surrounded by a light mist.
‘Her parents said she doesn’t have many friends,’ said Kate.
‘She has two million,’ said Dan. ‘Her parents are just deadbeats, need to get out of Rubes’ space. They stifle her, and they don’t know jack about Rubes.’
‘What don’t they know? Enlighten us.’
Dan shrugged.
‘Who would you say are Ruby’s closest friends?’ said Zain.
Dan opened his mouth, closed it without speaking. Close friends, he should rattle off some names. His silence corroborated what the Days had said. Ruby was a loner. Lonely in the glare of two million people watching her.
‘Ruby’s parents didn’t have any numbers, said they used Facebook mainly to contact her circle. Can you help us out?’ said Kate.
You better help us, before I make you face up to your lies, she was thinking.
‘I got numbers somewhere.’ He gave Zain a side look as he went through his phone. ‘You got an email address? I’ll send you a list.’
‘Does she have anyone she is particularly close to?’ said Kate.
‘There’s some of us, YouTubers, we get together now and again. Go to VideoCon and stuff like that. There are so many awards now, people trying to tap into what we do. They don’t get it, a lot of them, and they hate that. We did it without them, you see, just us and cameras in our rooms. No budget, no advertising, we just clicked. It’s perfect democracy; the people choose what they want to watch. And they want to bottle us.’
‘Who are they?’
‘All of them. Companies, film studios, brands. Anyone out there trying to make money. They want us fronting it.’
‘Had Ruby been approached by anyone, to front anything?’
‘Yeah, tons. She gets free stuff every day, almost. People send her stuff, ask her to use it in her videos. It’s like advertising, but without advertising. People watch her, and they watch what she uses.
Last year, she used this eye shadow, right, and it sold out in a month all over. A month. Beyoncé has that sort of power, and here’s little Rubes doing the same. The Americans love her, they love her accent.’
Dan looked at Kate; she didn’t react. She’d heard it enough times.
‘So she was sent random things? She didn’t have a contract with anyone?’
Dan looked furtive, started stroking his arms, drawing his hands into his stomach. Classic concealment, comfort grooming: Kate had hit on something.
‘No,’ he said.
Your body is saying something else to me, she thought. What exactly was he hiding?
Chapter Twenty
They were getting ready to leave. Dan Grant had been exhausted; he didn’t have anything useful left to say.
‘What do you do, then? On YouTube? What’s your talent?’ said Zain. He rolled the word talent in his mouth, heavily mocking.
‘I have a gamer channel. I play games.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Zain.
‘I play games. All the latest games that come out, I play them. And I film it, and I do commentary, and I give tips to people. So when people struggle, they come to my videos, and they get through levels.’
‘A tutorial?’ said Kate.
‘Sort of. I film myself playing the game, and I talk over it. I literally review every second of it.’
Kate didn’t grasp it; she would have to watch a video later, get a better idea of what Dan did. Why would anybody want to watch somebody else play a video game? Wasn’t the thrill, the escape, in playing yourself?
Dan didn’t make a move to show them out.
‘You literally just make your own videos, filming yourself?’ said Zain.
‘Used to, that’s how we all started. Now it’s different. We have them produced for us.’
‘Who by?’ said Zain.
‘It’s a company we signed to,’ said Dan. ‘MINDNET.’
‘MINDNET?’ repeated Zain. ‘What is that?’
‘Just a media company. In Soho. They produce our videos, so they look professional, better quality editing and all that.’
‘And what do they get from it?’ said Kate.
‘A cut of our money,’ said Dan.
‘Your money? People pay to subscribe to you?’ said Kate.
‘No, from ads. We put ads on our stuff, and we get paid. Rubes gets paid in goods, but sometimes she gets money too for advertising shit. And games companies pay me. I got nearly two million regular viewers. And any ads I run, MINDNET take a cut.’
‘Why would you let them? If you can make your own videos at home, why do you need them?’ said Zain.
‘Better quality product. And they use their tools. They have weird software and shit, helps raise our profiles. I only had half a million people last year, and within months they got me up to two million. They think I’ll be hitting five or eight million in another year.’
Kate felt her head filling with information, new and odd, parallel to reality. She had to separate the bits that mattered, that would be useful to her investigation.
‘Ruby has a contract with MINDNET?’ she said. ‘You said a moment ago she didn’t have a contract with anyone.’
Dan opened his eyes wide, child-like, feigning innocence. Trapped and nowhere to go.
‘I thought you meant something else,’ he said. ‘Like sponsorship, branding. L’Oréal, that sort of stuff.’
‘What’s in her contract with MINDNET?’
Dan shrugged.
‘We never discuss it. It’s personal. Like asking someone how much they earn – not my business. We all get different cuts.’
‘You must have a general idea?’
‘No, we all get different deals,’ he said.
‘What do they do? Just manage her videos, then? Her online profile?’
‘Yeah,’ said Dan. ‘Sort of. They help with the clothes and make-up ones. Rubes still does diary-style stuff by herself.’
‘Do they script the videos they produce?’
Something Harris had said . . . Was this a stunt? Would MINDNET set something like this up?
‘No, we are real, they don’t script us. Sometimes though, just the odd phrase maybe. We’ve got to be what our fans want – the MINDNET guys just remind us.’
‘Ruby OK with them?’ said Zain. ‘She happy with the way they were treating her?’
‘She is having some issues with them,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what, but she isn’t feeling them as much anymore. She’s talked about ending with them, but she wouldn’t spill. Said it didn’t concern me.’
‘Was she afraid at all?’ said Kate.
‘Seriously, I don’t know what’s going on, she never said. Might just be money. I know one of my YouTube buds is going through the same with someone else. Not happy with the cut they’re giving him. I don’t know if it’s the same. Ruby’s never said.’
‘Keep your phone on. We might need to speak to you again,’ said Zain.
Kate smiled thinly at Dan as they left his apartment.
Chapter Twenty-one
‘Drop me back at HQ,’ said Kate. ‘I’m going to find out where MINDNET are, and what their issues with Ruby might be. Can you go and find Millie, the girl Dan pushed from the hotel balcony?’
‘Sure. He was weird, my instincts are telling me he’s all wrong.’
‘He was lying throughout that interview, or hiding something,’ said Kate. ‘He knows a lot more than he told us.’
Zain checked his phone. ‘Ruby’s last tweet: “Every man/woman is guilty of all the good he/she did not do.” It’s a quote from Voltaire, according to her.’
‘Very profound,’ said Kate.
‘Typical teenagers, full of their own self-importance.’
‘She isn’t a teenager,’ said Kate.
Zain swiped his phone, opening an email from Dan Grant. List of Ruby’s friends, he told Kate.
‘Send it back to HQ,’ she said. ‘Get Stevie to call them. Find out Ruby’s movements yesterday, any concerns she may have mentioned recently.’
Detective Sergeant Stevie Brennan would love that, thought Zain. She was part of Kate’s team, with DS Rob Pelt and Zain, and already seemed to hate him. Making her do legwork would piss her off further no doubt.
‘Got another email. Rob’s done a search on CCTV,’ he said. ‘He has Ruby walking home from Warwick Avenue station, approximately 4 p.m. yesterday. She wasn’t hurried, just calm. The last image is her coming through the main doors to Windsor Court. Nothing after that.’
‘And he’s sure she didn’t leave through either of the exit points to Windsor Court?’
‘Yes.’
‘How else could she get out? Have someone examine the building, see if it’s possible to get in and out any other way.’
‘I’ll get someone to do a walk-through, every scenario,’ said Zain. ‘See if Tech want to stretch their legs.’
‘Where did Stevie find them? Tech and FLO?’
‘Paddington Green station,’ said Zain.
Justin Hope didn’t have his own police force, just a handful of small teams like Kate’s. Any case requiring specialist skills like forensics meant borrowing manpower from the Met Police themselves. Their commissioner, Sonya Varley, was less than reticent about how unhappy she was. She had openly clashed with Justin Hope many times. Hope had the Home Office and Ministry of Justice backing him, and the Met were currently undergoing a trial by fire with parliament. While Varley was being forced to police smarter with less money, Hope was being given her budget, splurging on designer cars and their HQ in Victoria.
Kate felt uneasy thinking about it. A turf war was a danger. And she had a feeling she was on the wrong side.
‘Ruby must have left that building somehow,’ she said to Zain.
Kate didn’t believe in the impossible. There had to be an explanation.
The pentagrams flashed into her mind. She pushed them aside. The day was bright, hitting its stride. No room for the shadows fo
r that type of irrationality to hide in.
Chapter Twenty-two
Fifth Avenue. Zain smiled as he walked down it, images of New York reeling through his mind. Images of Kate Riley, her voice, her history. An American girl in London. Sounded like a movie.
This Fifth Avenue was in north-west London, near Queen’s Park tube station. It was a street of Victorian terraces, each identical in build, with slate roofs, brown brick walls. He found the one he wanted and buzzed.
‘I’ll be, down in a minute, came a woman’s voice.
The woman who opened the door made Zain catch himself. She was stunning at first glance. Brown hair, hazel eyes, sharp cheekbones. She was wearing a thin nightgown, orange, the shape of her body visible beneath.
‘Detective Sergeant Harris?’ she said.
‘Call me Zain,’ he said.
‘As in Malik?’
‘As in Harris, and I had the name first,’ he said.
She smiled, revealing dimples in her cheeks. Zain looked away, mentally pulling himself together.
‘Please come in,’ she said.
Millie Porter looked out onto her street, her head tilting right and left, scanning to see who had witnessed Zain’s arrival.
The house was split into four flats. Hers was on the top floor. Standard wooden floors throughout. Millie asked him to remove his shoes, and left Zain in the lounge while she finished dressing. There were white and cream rugs placed on the floor, an assortment of chairs around them. Replica prints on the walls. Monet, Picasso. A picture of a Buddha with his head turned away on one wall, three golden circles falling in a pattern on another.
Millie returned dressed in black trousers and turtleneck jumper. She’d made them flavoured tea. His was lemon and mint; hers was vanilla with cinnamon. His smelled better than it tasted.
Millie took her place in a rocking chair; Zain opted for a beanbag. He sat cross-legged on it.
‘Thank you for seeing me,’ he said. ‘I know you were hesitant.’
She looked into her tea, then at him. ‘It’s still very raw. I didn’t want to rake it all up,’ she said. Her accent was clipped, as though she came from a finishing school somewhere.