The Game

by Luca Veste

  ‘Something like that,’ Rich replied, shaking his head again, as if the idea had been ridiculous. ‘Like I know anything of that world. What I do know, though, is people and maybe that’s why she came to me. Something had kicked off around her and she wasn’t sure how to deal with it. I spent some time with her, trying to talk some sense into her.’

  ‘What kind of sense?’

  ‘That it didn’t matter. That in a few days everyone would have forgotten about it and moved on to the next thing. And I thought it had. She didn’t talk about it for weeks. I think we know I was wrong.’

  ‘She was in some kind of trouble then? Before she went missing?’

  ‘No, that was ages ago. It was all sorted out, she told me. You know how it is with these kids. She never made out it was anything bad. She didn’t know how to get out of it, that was all. A few nasty messages, but she told me it was nothing that bad. She just didn’t know how to deal with it.’

  ‘We have information that Emily was doing something on the internet – do you know what that was?’

  ‘The pretending to be other people thing?’ Rich said, now looking at Mark and ignoring the mute DS Cavanagh. ‘That what you’re talking about?’

  ‘I think the term is catfishing,’ Mark replied, earning a dismissive wave from Rich.

  ‘Whatever it’s called, still the same bollocks as the rest of it. They said she was pretending to be other people online and going after that lot who bullied her in school. Making them do things and say things that would embarrass them, stuff like that. Kiddy stuff, you know. I didn’t understand it when Emily told me about it and I still don’t. Seems like no one online is who they say they really are. That’s just another part of it. All the fights take place on Facebook or whatever and then when they see each other in person they don’t know what to do. The world’s changing.’

  ‘Emily was targeting people who had bullied her online.’

  ‘That’s the thing, no she wasn’t. Not anymore. She was caught out a year or two ago and stopped. She said someone was doing it again and was pretending to be her, pretending to be someone else…’

  ‘What?’ DS Cavanagh said. ‘I don’t get that.’

  ‘Someone pretended that she was still doing it to those people. It wasn’t her. She was keeping her head down and just trying to get on with her life. Then this happens and it just destroyed her. She was a wreck. Julie couldn’t get her out of her room for a week, before I went in and started talking to her. But this was ages ago. At least a couple of months.’

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ Mark said, wondering how this would fit in, if at all, with what he’d discovered in the letter. ‘She wasn’t the one behind the catfishing, or targeting of people online? Someone pretended that it was her doing it, so she would get the blame for it?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Why? Why would someone do that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Rich said, his head lolling back and looking up towards the ceiling. ‘Maybe she was an easy target. She… she wasn’t the most switched-on girl. Not streetwise at all. Easily led, easily manipulated. She just wanted to be liked, but it never seemed to happen. It didn’t help that it came easy to her twin. She was forever in her shadow. So she tried to make friends, but ended up being bullied. She tried to be different, but that didn’t help at all. Nothing she seemed to do worked, so she stopped trying.’

  ‘And when someone came along and did this to her, it just made things worse.’

  Rich sighed and looked at Mark. His eyes were red now, shiny with tears that hadn’t been shed in a long time. ‘She never had a chance to just… be. There was always something holding her back, or someone. She was going to college and changing her path, but then this happens and it all falls apart. I stepped in because I knew what was going to happen next. You see it all the time these days. All these kids being bullied who end up topping themselves because of it. I didn’t want her to be another one.’

  ‘When was the last time you spoke to her?’

  ‘A couple of days before she went missing,’ Rich replied, wiping his face with the sleeve of his jumper. ‘She seemed better. I didn’t get much out of her, but she was excited about something it seemed. I thought she was finally seeing some kind of light out of the darkness she’d been feeling. I know what I am. I know what you think about me and what I do, but don’t for a second think that I don’t love my family – I’d do anything for them. I had nothing to do with what happened to Emily.’

  Mark believed him. Despite what they knew about the man and what he’d done – the violence he’d been a part of, the criminal activity – there was no way he was this amazing an actor on top of that. ‘She was excited – about what?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Rich said, holding his hands out in front of him. ‘I wish I could tell you.’

  ‘Did she mention any kind of game?’ Mark replied, trying to keep his voice from showing any excitement. ‘Something she had to play?’

  Rich stared back at him, then leaned back as if thinking about it carefully. ‘Don’t think so. She was talking about some kind of self-help thing, where she was moving through levels. Think she was on Level Three or something.’

  Mark looked at DS Cavanagh, who stared back with wide eyes. He sat back, taking it all in. The whole story. The Game he’d now heard about a few times, Emily saying she just had to play and everything would be solved.

  ‘Who do you think could have done this to her?’ DS Cavanagh said, as Mark tried to make the pieces fit together.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Rich replied, his voice changing. Hard and devoid of light. ‘But I hope I find out before you lot do, so I can get proper justice. That’s all I’m going to say.’

  Forty-Two

  Him

  It was becoming too much for him to handle. The waiting. It was endless, the seconds ticking by with nothing happening.

  He couldn’t deal with it.

  He checked the phone sitting beside him for the fifteenth time in the past minute, placing it back down on the bed when he saw nothing new. The laptop was perched on his crotch and stomach, heat pouring from it.

  He had chosen her. There was no turning back from that.

  He just needed them all to see the proof, so he could get that feeling again.

  That acceptance. They would all know he’d been brave enough to allow this to happen.

  Maybe, now, his life would get better. Maybe he would be better.

  First, she’d had to be dealt with. That was all.

  His choice. His decision.

  He wanted to be sure he would never be found out. Wanted to make sure he had his story straight, if they ever knocked on his door.

  He was safe.

  Your hands are clean.

  Soon, his screen was filled with photographs.

  There she was, standing near the waterfront, looking out. He could only see the back of her head, but that was enough to recognise her.

  Then, he could see her face as she turned around and the photographs became almost like a flick book of small drawings. In each picture, she moved slightly closer to the camera. Unaware of its existence. The streetlights around her provided some illumination, but otherwise, she was a blurry form in the dull light.

  His heart began to quicken as he saw her arms extended out in the correct manner. The way she’d been told.

  The sequence of photographs shortened, became duller and more difficult to make out. Finally, near the end of the thumbnails that had filled his screen, there was what everyone on the forum had been waiting for, all this time. Since the last one.

  His choice.

  He clicked play on the video, then made it full screen.

  The image was barely clear enough to make out more than a motion of movement, but he could hear her voice. A hand went to his mouth, as he choked back something he hadn’t been aware he was feeling. A sob, a cry of delight at what he had been responsible for creating. A memory.

  He watched it again and again,
as if each time it was the first time he was seeing it.

  On screen, he could hear her breathless chants. The numbers she was reeling off. The movements she was making. In the background, he could hear nothing but the waves and the wind.

  The blood.

  Then, the screen went black and the video ended.

  That was all there was.

  She was gone.

  Suddenly, his mind was filled with regret and darkness. Thoughts of the family, how they wouldn’t understand. How they would never know the truth.

  He would have to watch them grieve, never knowing where she was or what had happened to her.

  It was over.

  Now, he could move on. Begin a new chapter.

  He wasn’t sure what that would be. What he should do. What he should be.

  A thought came to his mind, pushing its way to the surface above the noise.

  If it’s over for her, is it over for you as well?

  He didn’t know the answer.

  Forty-three

  Mark checked the time and suppressed a yawn. It was late, even as the adrenaline inside him increased. He was getting close, he felt, to something approaching an answer.

  ‘You don’t think it’s too late?’

  Mark shook his head to DS Cavanagh’s question. ‘It’ll be fine. I just want to make sure you’re okay with me talking to her alone.’

  ‘It should be fine. She trusts you and it’s not an interview under caution. If she’s willing to talk to you now, then I say go for it. I’ll find out where she is and then probably take the boss’s advice and get some rest. See if I can work out what the hell we’re dealing with here.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Mark replied, pulling out the letter he’d found in the attic of Emily’s house out and reading it over again. He tried to work out how best to tackle what he needed to ask Stephanie.

  ‘By the way,’ DS Cavanagh said, turning back to him as he walked away. ‘For what it’s worth, you’ve still got my backing. I think it’s all connected. I don’t like coincidences. Well done for not letting it drop. Other newbies would have just got their head down and done as they were told. The boss won’t forget that; especially if it leads to us figuring this all out.’

  With that, DS Cavanagh left Mark alone in the corridor as he tried not to punch the air at the compliment.

  There was still too much to do.

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Stephanie was led into the family room by DS Cavanagh and left alone with Mark. Her eyes were red and puffy from hours of tears. Her skin was pale. She looked so different than when he’d last seen her. Burdened with pain.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Stephanie said, her hair hanging limply over her cheeks. ‘How come you didn’t just come to the house tomorrow or something?’

  Mark realised he wasn’t sure how to begin. Stammered out a response. ‘I thought it better we talk straight away. It’s not too late, is it? I mean, if you’re tired or…’

  Stephanie shifted in her seat, trying to sit up straighter. ‘No, it’s fine. What is this about, Mark?’

  ‘We found something. In the house, earlier.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks for that,’ Stephanie said, before he had a chance to say anything more. ‘As if things weren’t bad enough, now my mum’s house has been turned upside down. Honestly, you couldn’t have given us a little more time? We’ve only just found out she’s dead. We could have done without that. Or at least had some warning.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Mark replied, stuck for anything else to say. ‘It’s what happens in these types of cases…’

  ‘And now you’re interviewing our Uncle Rich, as if he had something to do with it? It’s just not right.’

  Mark could see she was on the brink of breaking down again, but resisted the urge to reach out and comfort her. ‘She was found somewhere he’s known to have a connection to, Stephanie. That can’t be ignored.’

  ‘He would never hurt her,’ Stephanie said, a grit to her tone of voice. As if she was holding back from raising her voice in the small space. ‘I know that’s what you people always think, but this time, it’s different. He didn’t do this.’

  ‘That’s why I need to talk to you. What I’m going to tell you here, I want you to think about carefully. If there’s anything sensitive, I promise it’ll be dealt with properly. I just need the truth, that’s all. I need your trust here. Okay? Can you trust me?’

  Stephanie nodded, her eyes now wide, staring at Mark. Her face gave away nothing and Mark felt that he was either dealing with an incredible liar or someone who genuinely had no clue what Emily had been thinking.

  ‘We found something,’ Mark said. The letter was in an evidence bag inside the folder sitting on his lap. He opened the file as he talked. ‘When we were searching the house. It was hidden in the attic.’

  He glanced across at Stephanie, who had turned in her seat and was now staring at the floor. The striplight on the ceiling above them was dim and cast an almost amber light on her. She had a jacket on, but he could see she was cold from the way she held herself.

  ‘I found it by chance,’ he continued, reaching down to grasp the evidence bag and move it to the front of the folder. ‘There’s a gap in the ceiling in your old bedroom, it seems. Wouldn’t take much to stand on a chair, shift the tile and stuff something in the attic. If I hadn’t flashed my torch across that particular bit of floor, I would have missed it. I don’t think anyone was supposed to find it. It’s almost like I was meant to.’

  He pulled out the letter and held it in his hands. Turned it over and held it in mid-air between them. ‘Have you seen this before?’

  Stephanie looked at what he was holding, squinting across at him to try and read what was written on it. Mark held it out further towards her and waited. She shook her head, but he couldn’t tell if that was in response to his question or not.

  ‘That’s Emily’s writing, isn’t it?’ Mark said, trying to prompt her into talking. ‘I recognised it from the journal she kept hidden in her bedroom.’

  ‘Yes,’ Stephanie replied, her voice quiet and thick with emotion. ‘It is. But I don’t understand…’

  ‘Neither did I,’ Mark said. ‘Do you want to read what she wrote, or do you want me to read it?’

  She didn’t answer, simply extending a hand and taking the bag from his hands. He sat back in the seat, staring at the various leaflets and posters attached to the wall. Stephanie read silently opposite him, as he listened for any reaction from her. He remembered most of what was written there and the space was small enough for him to notice a sound without her even realising.

  Stephanie read through it in a few minutes, then turned back and read it again. When she was finished, she let the bag rest on her lap and clasped her hands together as if she were offering a silent prayer for an answer to what was happening.

  ‘She’s wrong,’ Stephanie said finally. ‘She got it so wrong.’

  ‘Which part?’

  ‘All of it,’ Stephanie replied, and now all tears had disappeared. ‘She was stupid. A stupid little girl. I told her… I told her not to mess with things she didn’t understand, but did she listen? Of course not.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ Mark said, feeling more confused than ever. ‘I’m not following you.’

  ‘ “I didn’t care?” How dare she say that? She knew I did. I spent years trying to help her, but she never listened. Never. She’d just sit there, nodding her head like an idiot and not taking anything in, apparently. And now, she blames me? How could she?’

  ‘Stephanie, you need to calm down—’

  ‘Calm down?’ Stephanie shouted, her voice echoing around the room. Mark glanced towards the door, wondering if DS Cavanagh was out there, listening, or if he’d really gone home as he’d said.

  ‘How can I be calm?’ Stephanie continued. ‘That little bitch could have been like me any time she wanted, but she wasn’t willing to be. She could have been friends with my friends. She could have been my friend, but
she was never willing to do anything about it. She was too lazy. And now… and now she leaves this behind, just to try and twist the knife a little bit more. I should have known.’

  Mark sat open-mouthed, trying to work out what she’d told him. The reaction wasn’t at all what he’d expected. He breathed in deeply, let his mind clear. ‘She was obviously angry when she wrote this. Why would she be like that towards you? I know you said things hadn’t been great between you two, but I didn’t get the sense that it was this bad.’

  ‘Neither did I. Guess I got that wrong, just like everything else about us. I spent so long trying to get her to fit in, but she would never listen to me. It was like she was punishing herself, for no damn reason. I had my own shit to deal with as well, so I had to give up eventually. No one was all that nasty to her, they just didn’t bother. It didn’t mean they didn’t care though. They just gave up trying as well.’

  ‘What she says in the note, about doing something to you, what was that about?’

  Stephanie sighed, the bag in her hand almost crumpled in her grip. Mark reached across and took it from her before she destroyed it entirely.

  ‘It was nothing. I’d forgotten about it. She obviously thought it affected me more than it actually did. I didn’t care.’

  ‘What did she do?’

  ‘She put private pictures of me on a message board. She went through my phone somehow and got them. They were just silly little selfies I sent to someone I was seeing at the time. Nothing fully nude, thankfully, but enough to embarrass me, that was all. Nothing with my face, either, which was something at least. She was angry. I didn’t tell anyone because it didn’t matter. They were taken down and no one even knew about it. There’s enough out there already that no one even cared enough to start sharing them round or anything. No one knew it was me. She told me herself and that was that. We had a row, but it was all sorted.’

  ‘Still, it must have been difficult,’ Mark said, trying to take it all in. ‘Given everything else she was doing, to other people I mean, you can’t have taken it too well. Being lumped in with all of the others.’