The Game

by Luca Veste

  ‘I have,’ Natasha replied, but didn’t elaborate. Instead, she stared towards the main road outside.

  ‘Well, don’t leave me hanging. What do you know about them?’

  Natasha finished another bite of her toast, then wiped her mouth free of crumbs. ‘I don’t know much. We’ve had a few clients who have used their… services, shall we say? I tried to get more information about them for a long time, but ran into a brick wall. Seemed like they’d disappeared, but I wouldn’t be surprised to hear they’ve just found another avenue to make nuisances of themselves.’

  ‘Nuisances?’

  Natasha made as if to speak, then hesitated. Thought for a second, then opened her mouth again. ‘I think you have a good idea what I’m talking about.’

  Mark smiled. Tried not to slip. ‘What do you know about them? It might be helpful.’

  ‘They were set up by some rich bloke who lost his son,’ Natasha said, after she’d let a few seconds of silence grow between them. ‘Killed himself because he was being bullied. From what I can gather, he was just the money in the operation. Had no idea what was going on behind closed doors.’

  ‘And how did you become aware of it, as a social worker, I mean?’

  ‘We had a few kids who’d been on the website and spoken to the people behind it. Counselled, was the term they used. A couple of the kids thought it helped them. Said it gave them some skills to cope, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Not all of them, though,’ Mark said, shifting uneasily in his chair, the salad in front of him picked at, but mostly untouched. ‘How much reach did this website have?’

  ‘I could never really work that out – how many local kids used the site before it went dark. I know of five who came through our service, but it was probably more than that. Then, if you go nationwide – worldwide even – you’re into god knows how many people. From what I could gather though, there were only a few face-to-face meetings. And they were all local.’

  ‘What happened to make you so interested in it?’

  ‘There’s not much I can tell you on that. All I know is that a couple of those kids went to separate meetings and both of them were very scared to say anything about it at all. I tried – we all tried – to get more out of them, but they just refused to say a word. Something very shady about that, I thought. So I started looking into it a bit more. Didn’t get very far. I spoke to the rich bloke…’

  ‘Kevin Blackhurst.’

  ‘That’s his name,’ Natasha replied, but Mark suddenly had a feeling she knew his name quite well. She wanted to see how much he knew.

  ‘I spoke to him about it,’ Natasha continued, as if he hadn’t interrupted. ‘Tried to gauge what had happened, if there was something we should be worried about. It seemed like it was brushed under the carpet a bit, given it was just shut down with no warning.’

  Mark thought for a second. ‘What happened to these kids that it created such a worry in the first place? I don’t quite understand what actually went on during these meetings.’

  ‘I don’t know myself for sure,’ Natasha said, hesitating over each word. ‘I think there was talk of violence. About making yourself a victim and how to combat that. That wasn’t the main problem with it though. It was a toxic atmosphere for the girls there. As if it were solely their issue. The men in charge didn’t believe they could be bullied or have any negative effects from it.’

  ‘That sounds ridiculous – why go in the first place?’

  ‘If we’re going to try and work out why certain things are ridiculous towards certain genders, we could be here a long time.’

  Mark held his hands up in mock surrender. ‘Okay, but what happened to stop you looking into them? You haven’t exactly struck me as the type to give up easily.’

  ‘I was met with silence,’ Natasha replied, shaking her head with frustration. ‘And the caseload. I was asked to leave it alone, given it had shut down and the kids involved weren’t interested in doing anything with it anymore. Doesn’t mean I was happy about it, but sometimes you have to move on.’

  ‘I guess it wasn’t really your job,’ Mark said, feeling for the first time since they’d met that he wasn’t getting the full truth from her. That there was something being left unsaid. He mused for a moment or two on whether to push it further, but decided against it. ‘Well, it looks as though my missing person had some contact with them or someone pretending to be them at least. And that’s in the past couple of months. Which only makes this whole case that bit more complicated, if it has you worried as a social worker.’

  Natasha shrugged but didn’t say anything more, finishing her lunch in silence. Mark picked at the salad a little more, before pushing it to one side. ‘Listen, sorry for bringing up my work problems. Probably not what you were hoping for when I asked to meet up.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Natasha replied and sounded genuine about it. ‘Although, this is the second or third time we’ve eaten together and I’m still not sitting in a fancy restaurant.’

  ‘I’ll book somewhere,’ Mark said instantly, swearing at himself internally. ‘It’s on my list. We’ve gone at this a bit backwards, I suppose.’

  ‘Don’t worry. My fault as much as yours. It would be nice to go out properly though. I feel like this is going somewhere.’

  ‘I agree,’ Mark said, and meant it. It wasn’t how he thought it was going to happen, but he was happy, he realised.

  Then he thought of Emily Burns and her family waiting for answers. He felt immediately guilty about his own happiness.

  He didn’t have to wait long for that guilt to grow.

  Thirty-three

  The call came with no warning. A breathless detective inspector, telling him to get down to a place he didn’t recognise.

  Her name, her body.

  This time it was real. This time there was no doubt.

  His fears were proven correct.

  Emily was dead.

  Mark had hoped that another mistake had been made, but it became clear quite quickly that there was no doubt among the team about who they had found.

  They’d checked for a birthmark this time.

  The temperature was low, becoming chilling each time the wind whipped up around him and crashed into his face. Mark was standing in an old builder’s yard, the detritus and decay of it indicating it hadn’t been used for a long time. Just another abandoned piece of land that would spend years lying empty until someone eventually came and built tiny thin-walled flats on it. He looked around, unable to see anything past the high walls that bordered almost the entire yard. At the far end, metal railings backed onto the disused train line behind. A forgotten place. Like the place where they’d first found her blood.

  Which wasn’t that far away. If he’d craned his neck, he could make out an edge of the entrance to the place. He looked up and there was the top of the building where Joanna Carter’s body had been found.

  Too close.

  ‘She was discovered behind one of those burnt-out cars,’ DI Bennett said, pointing into the distance, where officers in protective clothing ducked down out of sight. ‘When the uniforms who were dealing with the young girl with the knife moved the crowd back, there were a few reports about a suspicious smell. She’s in a bad state, so I’m guessing it’s likely she’s been here since the night she went missing.’

  ‘What is this yard? Is it still in use?’

  ‘It’s been abandoned for years. We’re trying to track the owner, but odds are it’s part of someone’s extensive portfolio of land; just another old place waiting to be renovated into houses or something similar. They probably won’t have a clue what goes on here on a regular basis. But guess who does some of his business here? Our favourite nutcase, who just so happens to be related to the dead woman over there…’

  ‘Uncle Rich…’ Mark said under his breath.

  ‘Of course,’ DI Bennett replied, a slight smirk appearing on her face. ‘Nothing legal, oh no. This was information we managed to get from our friends i
n drug squad. They’ve been monitoring his movements for a number of months now. He visits this place at least once a month. They’re on the verge of getting the go-ahead to have full surveillance put on him. Apparently he’s a big player in the drug world. Or at least in the know of those who are. Doesn’t really matter. There are already enough meetings taking place about why this information wasn’t shared with us earlier. Anyway, he’s linked to the yard and we reckon we’ll find more evidence in his house.’

  ‘Getting a warrant?’

  ‘On its way now.’

  ‘This is going to destroy that family,’ Mark said, scratching at his increasingly stubbled face. ‘He was like a surrogate dad to them, by the looks of things.’

  ‘You said it yourself. The younger one, he didn’t think he was going to be blameless here. We’re going to need to talk to him again.’

  ‘What about Joanna Carter…’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know,’ DI Bennett snapped back. Mark was surprised by her irritated tone. ‘The girl I mentioned earlier, the one with the knife saying she killed her?’

  ‘She said that?’

  ‘The arrest didn’t go well. Turns out she had no idea how Joanna died. The young woman was referred to Psych. We don’t think she was involved at all. Just a very mixed-up girl.’

  ‘Boss…’

  ‘I know, I know,’ DI Bennett said, exasperation flowing from every word. ‘Cavanagh finished questioning her about thirty minutes ago. She has an alibi. For basically every single day since before and after Joanna’s death. Which we know includes the time Emily went missing too. She wasn’t even in England. Her mum provided proof that they were on holiday last week. No way she could have been involved. We think she was just mixed up.’

  ‘And made her way to where Emily was eventually found?’

  ‘It’s across the road. Hardly that much of a coincidence. One of the uniforms could smell something and checked it out.’

  ‘What was her name?’

  ‘Holly Edwards. Nothing to link her to Joanna whatsoever. We think it was just a breakdown of sorts.’

  ‘Joanna and Emily being found dead so close together – that’s no coincidence.’

  ‘It doesn’t quite fit yet, but I have a theory on that one.’

  ‘Really?’ Mark replied, wondering why it had taken so long to get to this point.

  ‘Rich killed them both. I know it sounds like a coincidence, but maybe Joanna saw what he did to Emily. That’s how Emily ended up here. He needed to chase her down or something, after being disturbed. He went back to deal with Joanna, realising he had to kill her or she would say something.’

  ‘It’s a stretch…’

  ‘I know, but it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve seen something like this.’

  Mark tried to remember a time he’d heard a similar thing happening, but was struggling. ‘I just think we’re missing part of the story here. It doesn’t make much sense to not kill Joanna that same night. If it was Rich, he would kill her at the same time, surely? He knew Emily’s blood was in that place, why not plant that near the body or on the roof if he was trying to frame her or something?’

  ‘I don’t know why yet. I’m hoping to find out though. Maybe he just thought it was enough to keep us running in circles.’

  Mark shaped to talk again, but DI Bennett cut him off.

  ‘For now, we have to concentrate on what we have so far,’ she said, pulling her jacket closer to her body as the wind hit them again. ‘And that’s Emily’s body found somewhere her uncle – who has prior history of violence against women and a possible statement coming from Emily’s brother – uses frequently. Obviously, he would know of its existence when there are loads who wouldn’t. You could walk past this place and not know it existed. No cameras pointing towards it, not overlooked. It’s perfect.’

  ‘What’s the motive?’

  DI Bennett cocked an eyebrow at him. ‘Drugs or sexual abuse. That’s the odds.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Mark replied, wondering what this would mean for the family. Emily’s mum, having to deal with the fact her own brother was under suspicion for her daughter’s murder. If it was murder. ‘Has she been beaten? Any signs of violence?’

  ‘We think the blood came from an injury to her arm. She’s got a deep gash along the outside of the left one. From the bruises around her neck, it looks likely that death will have been caused by strangulation, but she wasn’t in the best shape. Those bruises could be anything. Won’t know the truth until the post-mortem.’

  Mark looked towards where the forensic techs were shuttling back and forth. They were standing on the periphery of the yard, keen to keep any contamination down to a minimum. He felt a pull towards them, wanting to see for himself that she was really there. To know that there was nothing he could have done differently to find her sooner the past few days. That he’d be able to look the family in the eye and do so without guilt.

  He didn’t think that was possible.

  Truth was, he felt very out of his depth now.

  He wanted to find whoever did this to her. To Emily.

  That gut feeling again. That it wasn’t Rich. There were too many unanswered questions. Too many other parts to the story that didn’t make sense.

  He wanted to run away from it all, but his body wouldn’t let him. Maybe, that was what being a detective was really about. Wanting to run, but continuing on in spite of that.

  ‘I think it’s best you inform the family,’ DI Bennett said, turning back to him and pocketing her phone. ‘You have a relationship with them already and they’ll be more willing to trust that this time it’s for real. They’ll be expecting it to come from you, given you’ve been the one leading the investigation.’

  ‘What happens next?’

  ‘They identify her, we confirm cause of death, we arrest the uncle. Hopefully he confesses and we’re back to domestic violence cases and scrambler bike deaths by the end of the week.’

  Mark didn’t reply, sighing almost inaudibly and crossing his arms against his chest. One of the officers walked towards them, holding a camera. He didn’t want to see, but knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

  He stood at DI Bennett’s shoulder as the officer flicked through the photographs that had been taken, leaving each image on the screen for a few seconds. At first, you could be mistaken for not knowing what you were looking at. Then she came into view properly.

  There was anger bubbling up inside him as he watched the slideshow of horror. She was lying on her side, wearing the clothes they’d seen on the CCTV images. Her body had bloated somewhat, the decomposition period settling in. Mark glanced up at the tech officer, seeing only blankness in his eyes. No sign of what he’d seen and experienced having any effect at all.

  Mark envied him.

  The photographs became more graphic, closer-up images of her face, her neck. There was angry red and purple bruising to her neck, blackened in places. He could see her face, round and discoloured. Lines of red bursting from the surface as the capillaries fought to break out.

  It was her.

  Mark wanted to take the camera and throw it as far away as he could.

  Instead, he continued to stand almost at attention, watching as the photos of Emily Burns’s dead body flicked past the screen.

  ‘We good?’ the officer said, looking towards DI Bennett. She gave him a nod and he was gone before her head had returned to centre.

  ‘Look, I know you wanted a better outcome here,’ DI Bennett said, moving closer to him and tilting her head sideways as she looked up at him. ‘This one got a little bigger than I was expecting, so it’s my fault you’ve been dealing with it on your own. I also know it’s not your first suspicious death, or even murder. We don’t always save them, Mark. Sometimes we’re too late, sometimes we don’t have enough. We learn and we move on. We try to make sure we help the next people.’

  There was a practised tone to the speech, which caused Mark to bite down a little on his lower lip. He wanted to say
something in response but held back, not wanting to show any kind of emotion.

  ‘I told you it wasn’t a pretty picture. Poor woman. We have to make sure this is airtight. I don’t want this guy getting away with it. Will you speak to the son?’

  Mark nodded, but was still refraining from actually speaking. He didn’t trust himself. He knew he would have to eventually, but still needed a few more seconds.

  ‘After they’ve been to identify her, of course,’ DI Bennett continued, as another tech officer approached them. ‘They need to absorb the news first. We’re going to need to move fast on the uncle’s arrest though. I don’t want him having any more time.’

  ‘Emily’s phone,’ Mark said, breaking his silence. He could still feel the anger within himself, but felt he had swallowed it down enough now. ‘The last ping was near to the yard where her blood was found. That’s, what, a good hundred yards away from here? Emily magically moves from there to here. How does that happen and where’s her phone?’

  ‘That’s information I’m hoping her uncle will be able to provide. CCTV only covers so much around that area, so it’s not out of the question that he brought her here. Tried to hide her body somewhere he knows for as long as possible. Then, all this heat, maybe he was waiting for it to die down a bit before moving her.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Mark replied, but nothing about it felt right. He couldn’t buy into the coincidence of Joanna Carter’s death a day later, the bodies being found so close together. Or the feeling that Rich wasn’t the answer.

  Mark tuned into the conversation that was now happening beside him; DI Bennett scowling at a short tech officer, who looked like he could be blown away if the wind picked up any further.

  ‘Show me,’ DI Bennett said, Mark surprised at the harshness of her tone. Something had been said and now he was annoyed with himself for allowing his thoughts to run away with themselves.

  The tech officer revealed what he was holding – an evidence bag with a piece of paper in it. Mark leaned forward, trying to read what was printed on it.