Bloodstream

by Luca Veste

  He forgot about the video and how he came to watch it until later that day.

  When everyone was talking about it.

  * * *

  Sarah Murphy was driving as the video was shared around – oblivious as Heart FM blared from the radio. The same songs repeated over and over.

  She was barely listening, travelling down the East Lancs Road, heading towards the M62, and Manchester which lay at its end. Every now and again, she considered turning off and going back home, but shook the thought away each time.

  She needed to do this.

  There was a little voice in her head, telling her it was a mistake. That if David found out about her visit, he would never forgive her. There was a louder voice, though, which remembered everything that had happened all those years ago, a voice that wouldn’t be silenced. She needed to know, to find out why.

  Why did he do it?

  Why them?

  Why her?

  She’d phoned the school that morning, feigning sickness, something that she’d never done before. She hoped it would be worth it.

  Sarah’s hands began to shake as she got closer, the signs on the motorway starting to include her destination. The reality of what she was doing beginning to hit. The thought of the man she had known so well, and everything he had done, turning her stomach.

  Still she drove forward. The hour-long journey from Liverpool dragging out, but almost at an end.

  Sarah thought about David, and what he was currently investigating. More death, as if he hadn’t already had enough of it. She glanced at the mobile in its holder on the dashboard as it came to life, cutting over the radio. She hoped for a second it would be David, telling her to come home, that everything was finished and she had him back properly again.

  ‘Hi, Jess,’ she said, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. ‘Just driving at the moment.’

  ‘You decided to go then?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Sarah replied, slowing as she took the exit from the motorway. ‘Just something I’ve got to do.’

  ‘Did you tell him?’

  Sarah knew she meant David and not the other him. ‘No. I don’t think he needs to know. Yet.’

  Jess’s huff echoed round the car as it came through the speakers. ‘The pair of you need your heads banging together. Well . . . take care of yourself, okay?’

  Sarah said she would and then ended the call. Within a few minutes she was pulling into the car park.

  She passed the silver sign which filled her with dread. The dread of things that had happened years before, and of what lay behind those gates.

  HMP MANCHESTER

  * * *

  Murphy was trying to get his head round what was being explained to him. The world of social media was an alien one to him; he had missed the whole explosion in the previous years, preferring instead to stay out of it all.

  ‘Look, just tell me how we get rid of it.’

  ‘It’s not that easy,’ Rossi said, rolling her eyes at DC Harris, who was struggling to keep a serious look on his face. ‘Once it’s out there and goes viral, we can’t just stop it. That’s just the way these things work.’

  ‘Well, get in touch with the website. Tell them to take it down. And find out who posted it in the first place. Surely we can do that.’

  ‘We can try, but this could have come from anywhere.’

  Murphy rubbed a hand across his forehead. ‘Just do something. We can’t have this out there.’

  Rossi turned back to DC Harris and began talking through options, leaving Murphy to work out how he was going to explain the latest development to DCI Stephens.

  ‘The video appeared an hour ago,’ Murphy said, once he was in her office. The harassed look on her face had increased in the time since their meeting with the higher-ups. ‘One of the media team drew our attention to it when the Merseyside Police Twitter account was linked to it or something. The Echo have been on the phone non-stop since, but have been talked out of posting it on their site. Won’t be long until national press link it to the Chloe and Joe murders.’

  ‘This is a mess, David,’ DCI Stephens said, removing her glasses and pinching her nose. ‘Are we in the process of removing the video?’

  ‘Well, that’s the plan. It’s not easy, I’ve been told, but they’re working on it.’

  ‘This is the last thing we need right now. There’s already enough pressure on us from the media without this type of thing getting out there. What’s on the video?’

  Murphy hesitated. ‘Do you want to see it for yourself?’

  ‘Just give me the gist for now,’ DCI Stephens said, placing her glasses back on. ‘I’ll watch it later.’

  Murphy knew she was putting it off. It was all well and good sitting behind a desk and coordinating things but actually witnessing the things her detectives had seen was something she quite plainly wanted to avoid. ‘We think it’s the couple found this morning – Greg and Hannah – taken last night. Greg is asking Hannah to tell him something, tell him the truth. Then it cuts to a closer view of Hannah . . .’

  ‘Does she have the facial injuries at this point?’

  ‘Yes,’ Murphy said, trying not to think of the nasty gashes across her face. ‘She then admits to Greg the same information her mother provided us with earlier. That the daughter wasn’t his, she’d had a one-night stand, etc., etc. The video then goes back to Greg . . .’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He . . . It sounds as if he’s saying he wants her to be hurt. To be killed. He calls her some names and says she deserves all she gets. Then the video ends.’

  DCI Stephens steepled her fingers and bowed her head. ‘Well, that’ll do wonders for public sympathy.’

  Murphy said nothing, still remembering the venom in Greg’s voice. He wondered if there was anything Sarah could say that could provoke the same reaction from him. He hoped he would never have to find out.

  ‘We’ll get this taken down, even if we have to go to a higher level to do so,’ DCI Stephens said, placing her hands flat on her desk. ‘I’m sure it’ll still be out there, if you look hard enough, but we’ll make sure it becomes a lot more difficult to find. Have we found out the first account who shared it yet?’

  ‘Anonymous account called “themaninblack80”. We’re getting more detail on that as well.’

  ‘Good. Let’s hope he’s made his first mistake.’

  Murphy left the office, eschewing his normal path back to his desk and walking out through the incident room to the corridors. His phone had been buzzing away in his pocket for the previous few minutes, vibrating against his leg.

  He pulled out his phone once he was in the quiet of the empty corridor by the lift area. Four missed calls and a message.

  ‘Call me. Need to talk.’

  DS Ayris from Liverpool South. His heart began to race a little as he thumbed the screen to dial the number.

  ‘Just give me a minute,’ Ayris said, the noise in the background growing quieter as Murphy heard him move away. ‘Thanks for calling me back.’

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘It’s just a courtesy call about the Amy Maguire case,’ Ayris said. ‘We’ve cleared Keith Hudson for now. Nothing else we could do but release him.’

  Murphy’s grip on his phone grew tighter. ‘Did you get anything more out of him at least? The little bastard knows something.’

  ‘Nothing, sorry. I’m not sure he knows anything. The guy has some mental health issues and is known for making false claims. Probably heard the story about Amy from someone and got lucky with some details.’

  ‘What’s next then? Do you have anything else?’

  ‘We’ll keep going, but you know the score, Murphy. Mispers are the bloody worst cases to try and get info on. Far too many of them for us to make a dent. We’ll keep her name out there, but she’s eighteen. Could have had a secret boyfriend and buggered off somewhere with him. Not much else we can do really. If anything comes up, I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Yeah, chee
rs,’ Murphy said, ending the call and catching himself before he launched the phone down the corridor. He settled on saying, ‘Fucking idiots,’ under his breath and instead finding another number in his contacts.

  ‘Hey, it’s David Murphy from Liverpool North. I need a favour . . . just an address, please . . . yeah, it’s Keith Hudson. Lives in Speke. He was questioned in Admiral Street station by Liverpool South division this week, if that narrows it down some? Cheers . . .’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sky News had been left on the television in the office, a distraction to take people’s attention every now and again. The Chloe and Joe saga had lost its ‘breaking news’ and ‘live updates’ tags at that point, waiting to be resurrected once the police confirmed that the couple found that morning were linked to the story.

  Then, the second video appeared on screen.

  It was a passing DS from the robbery team who noticed it first, saw it appear on the mid-afternoon news bulletin as Murphy, Rossi, and DC Harris continued to discuss the first video and its implications for the case.

  ‘Have you seen this?’ the DS said, turning to a DC on Murphy’s team. ‘Something about your case by the looks of it.’

  Murphy, overhearing, half turned towards the TV, expecting to see the video of Greg and Hannah from that morning.

  ‘Fuck’s sake, I thought they weren’t going to show it?’

  ‘That’s what I was told, sir,’ DC Harris replied, wheeling round his desk to get a better look. ‘Duck out the way, can’t see the screen from here.’

  ‘Wait . . . that doesn’t look right,’ Rossi said from beside Murphy. ‘The room’s different. What’s going on . . .’

  ‘Shit. That’s not the video we’ve seen. This is a new one. Stupid bloody press team can’t even get this right . . .’ Murphy said under his breath, lifting his phone up from his desk. ‘This is DI Murphy from the Major Crime Unit . . . Yes, hello. Why the hell are Sky News showing a video of my murder victims before we’ve seen it ourselves . . . no, not the one from this morning, Chloe Morrison and Joe Hooper . . . well, sort yourselves out and stop them broadcasting it. Now.’

  ‘That’s them?’ Rossi shouted, tearing her eyes away from the TV screen and facing Murphy.

  ‘Yeah,’ Murphy said, moving off his desk and pacing over to the screen. ‘You can see Joe’s tattoos there. What the . . . someone turn the volume up.’

  ‘Merda. Well, we’re for it now. What are they thinking showing this before giving it to us?’

  Murphy didn’t reply, waiting for the footage to end and the cameras to cut back to the newsreaders in the studio.

  ‘Someone’s getting a bollocking,’ DC Harris said. ‘That’s for sure.’

  ‘I want that video,’ Murphy said. ‘And I want it now.’

  * * *

  ‘They didn’t play the audio live, so that’s something. Hardly matters, though, as the Daily Mail have just published it in full. Huff Post will be next, then the Mirror. They’re just waiting to see if the Mail has it pulled first.’

  ‘And what do we do?’ Murphy said, swiping a hand through his diminishing hairline. ‘Can we stop it?’

  ‘It’s been on every news channel in the past fifteen minutes, but that’s not all. They may not be showing the video in full, or playing the audio, but they are publishing the message attached.’

  ‘What’s the message?’

  Rossi scrolled down on her computer screen to a highlighted block of text. ‘Here we go.’

  Murphy leaned over and read the message.

  NOTHING STAYS SECRET

  There are many secrets people keep to themselves and away from significant others. Lies, that if they were revealed, would destroy those relationships. These secrets are kept for selfish reasons. The fear of being discovered, found out for who they really are. Maybe you’re the one being lied to and just don’t know it yet. Lies have no place in a loving and committed relationship and I am showing the consequences of keeping secrets. It is a lesson that needs to be taught to so many. I want to make the world a better place. I want people to atone and for us all to move forward to a new understanding of

  Love.

  I can help people.

  If you know of someone who is lying to their partner, feel free to contact me.

  They could be next.

  The Man in Black – themaninblack80@gmail.com

  Murphy stopped reading, he stood up and stretched his back. ‘The Man in Black . . . who does he think he is? Johnny bloody Cash?’

  ‘Who?’ DC Harris said, giving Murphy a blank stare.

  Murphy gave DC Harris a perplexed look. ‘You don’t know who Johnny Cash is? Bloody hell. I am getting old.’

  ‘He was a country singer years ago,’ Rossi said, rolling her eyes at DC Harris. ‘Before even our DI’s time. Can we focus now?’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘He wants people to get in contact with him,’ Rossi said, writing in her notepad. ‘Wants them to give him names of people to kill, because they’re cheating or whatever.’

  ‘Surely no one is going to do that?’ Murphy said, sitting back at his own desk.

  ‘You’d be surprised at what people will do to others on the internet. It’s all pretend. They won’t believe it’s real. You’ll have people doing it for a laugh, as a wind-up, that sort of thing. They won’t believe anything will actually happen.’

  ‘We need to release a statement now,’ Murphy said, lifting his phone again. ‘I’ll get the press team to put something together.’

  ‘Here’s the boss as well.’

  DCI Stephens left her office, the door banging against the wall as she walked towards Murphy. ‘Want to tell me why I’m getting down the banks for something I’ve not even heard about?’

  ‘Sorry, I came over to tell you but . . .’

  ‘I’m not interested in apologies, David. Tell me what the hell is going on?’

  Murphy took a deep breath and began updating DCI Stephens on what had occurred in the previous hour. He paused at one point to allow her to vent her spleen about the idiots who had put the video on live news.

  ‘We’ve got calls in now to make them stop showing it. It’ll be part of a potential prosecution, so we’re hoping they see sense.’

  ‘Good,’ DCI Stephens said, shifting on her feet. ‘This message as well, can we get that taken down?’

  ‘That might be a bit trickier,’ DC Kirkham said, joining their bank of desks. ‘The email address is everywhere online now. Loads of people discussing it on social media.’

  ‘Twitter, you mean?’

  ‘Erm . . . yeah. There’s a hashtag for it and everything.’

  ‘Great,’ DCI Stephens said, turning her back on DC Kirkham and facing Murphy again. ‘We’ll do press asap. We’ve got to get a handle on this. Where are we with possible leads?’

  ‘We’ve got in touch with Twitter to let them know we want the details of the account that was set up to post the video. They’ve already suspended the account, but that’s not really stopped anything. Once it got out there, it was game over for us. It was set up with dummy details, but we’re hoping for a hit on the IP address.’

  ‘There’s one more thing,’ DC Kirkham said, everyone turning to look at him again. ‘LiveLeak are showing the whole video uncut. Audio, everything.’

  Murphy pointed to Rossi who was already spinning in her chair to get the website up. ‘What’s it under,’ she said, not looking away from her screen. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve found it. Hottest video right now, apparently.’

  The noise of the video filled the room; conversations ended and other detectives in the office began peering over desks to get a better view. Murphy bowed his head, having already seen enough of the images. This time, it was the words he was most interested in.

  ‘I don’t love you, Chloe. I never have. It was all for the money and the fame. Once we’d got married, had a couple of kids, made an absolute fortune, I was going to tell you, honest. I thought we would have made enough f
or it not to matter too much. You could make a ton of money on the divorce as well, from all the magazines and that.’

  ‘Did you sleep with other girls?’

  ‘I . . . I did. But I kept it really quiet. No one knew.’

  ‘I think it’s too late for that. You evil bastard . . .’

  ‘Hey! That’s not fair. You knew the score, surely? This is how it all works. You got famous for doing fuck all and made a shit ton of money out of it.’

  ‘Like that matters now.’

  ‘Did you expect me to just put up with it all or something? I couldn’t stay with just you. I don’t like you that way. You’re all right, I suppose, but not for me. I am sorry. Honest.’

  ‘You’re a fucking bastard, is what you are. If I could, I’d break your fucking neck right now.’

  The camera position changed again, the same as in the first video.

  ‘Do it. Kill him. He deserves to die. He’s . . . let me do it. I want to do it . . .’

  The screen cut to black. A collective gasp went around the office before muted conversation started up again.

  ‘What are we dealing with here, David?’

  ‘Someone getting payback for something. Killing cheating partners? Probably got rejected and took it much harder than most of us do. He’ll screw up soon enough. Probably already has. We’ll have him in an interview room within hours, I reckon.’

  ‘There’s more to it than that,’ Rossi said, leaning back in her chair. ‘This is about love. A twisted form of it, but it’s there.’

  ‘Laura, I don’t know what the hell you mean.’

  ‘Mannaggia . . . There’s something happening here. Something more than a vigilante cupid. We should be working out what that is.’

  ‘Great,’ Murphy said, as he clapped his hands together. ‘You sort out the love stuff. Kirkham, you come with me.’

  ‘Where are you going, David?’ DCI Stephens said, stepping back as Murphy walked past her.

  ‘Well, I’m not just sitting here whilst all this is going on. We’ve got stuff we can be doing. There must be something linking one of the people who knew about Hannah’s secret to whoever killed her and Greg. We need to work that out. And fast, before the whole country has emailed a serial killer asking him to bump off their next-door neighbours.’