Each Day I Wake: A gripping psychological thriller: US Edition

by Seb Kirby

  I didn’t like the way he was looking at me. The suspicious look he was giving me. “And that means?”

  “You’d say it was more than coincidence that all four were registered with the same site?”

  “I don’t know. It could be. How popular is it?”

  He waved his hand between us as if to swat the question aside. “And would you say it was even more of a coincidence if I told you that someone by the name of Tom Markland is also registered with the site.” He paused. I knew there was worse to come. “And that when we checked with the site operators they told us that their records show that the same Tom Markland has viewed the profiles of all four girls.”

  I said the only thing that would come to my mind. “It wasn’t me. I would never use a site like that. It must have been someone with the same name.”

  “Someone using a computer with an IP address that points right here, to The Herald?”

  I could feel the jaws of the snare tightening with every reply I made. “I don’t know. I don’t know how that could have happened.”

  Ives pressed on. “And why would you have used a photo of someone younger looking as your profile image? Just what have you been trying to hide?”

  “I told you, I don’t know. All I can say is, this must have been part of the investigation I was carrying out for the paper. Why else would I have used my own name?”

  Ives raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “What kind of investigation, Mr. Markland?”

  I told him about what I’d discovered on my computer. “I’d been investigating missing women. Not just those four. More than fifty overall.”

  “And why were you doing that?”

  “I don’t know. It’s what I’ve just found.” I paused. “So, maybe I did use the Orion site to make enquiries into them. Maybe I used a younger looking photo of myself to get a response. That would be a logical enough thing to do.”

  “But you just told us you didn’t use the site.”

  “Not that I can recall.”

  Ives stole a knowing glance at Lesley before turning back to me. “Oh, I see. It’s all down to your amnesia. Again. Tell me, Mr. Markland, who else knew you were carrying out this investigation? When we spoke to Evan Hamilton, he told us he knew nothing about any enquiry into missing women and that you were under instruction to do nothing but financial work.”

  I looked down. “I guess I must have had to do it that way because of Hamilton.”

  Ives echoed my words. “Because of Hamilton.” They sounded hollow.

  “That’s as much sense as I can make of it.”

  Ives reached in his pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “I could arrest you. But I don’t have enough to charge you. Not yet. But be assured, Mr. Markland, I’m not one to be taken in any longer by this I can’t recall game that you’ve been playing. So, here is a warrant. It gives us permission to take in all computers, all tablets and smart phones in your possession. And when we’ve been through them, I’m sure we’ll have plenty more to talk about.”

  “You’re saying I’m a suspect.”

  “You could say that, Mr. Markland. There’s what you’ve just told me and the not so small matter of the narcotics the hospital found in your bloodstream. Did you know that Cathy Newsome was involved in drugs? Is that what you used to draw her towards you?”

  I was shocked by what he was saying. “Then maybe I need a lawyer before I say anything more.”

  “As you wish, Mr. Markland. Now, what machines do you have here?”

  I tried not to look at and draw his attention to the desk drawer that contained Della’s diary as I handed over my phone. “That’s all I have.”

  He placed the phone in a transparent evidence bag and handed it to DS Lesley. “OK, Mr. Markland. You need to know we’re including your office computer.”

  “It’s needed for my work. And it’s property of the newspaper. Not my personal property.”

  “So, there is something you need to hide?”

  “I’m not saying that, just that I doubt it’s covered by the warrant, if that only relates to my personal property.”

  Ives scowled at DS Lesley, as if to say not another foul up. “I can get another. To cover this.”

  “So, go and get one.”

  He stood to leave and it was clear he was annoyed. “OK, Mr. Markland. Have it your way. I’ll be back with another warrant.”

  He scowled again at Lesley. “In the meantime, Mr. Markland, I advise you not to leave this office.” He paused. “And don’t try to do anything silly like deleting material from the computer hard drive. We can recover it all, you must know that.”

  While Ives left to get the second warrant, DS Lesley waited outside the office, standing guard.

  I felt even more like running. But I took a deep breath and logged into my computer once more.

  I called up the Orion site and used my email address and my favorite password and I was straight in.

  I looked over my account. It was all there. Contact details of over two dozen women who, it could have been claimed, were looking to hook up with me. Among the names were those of the four missing girls I’d told Ives about.

  What had I been doing stalking all these girls?

  I was beginning to feel disorientated, beginning to think that perhaps Ives was right to suspect me.

  I stared at the blank office wall, trying to gather my thoughts.

  Out of nowhere, the visions returned.

  I’m with Cathy Newsome. We’re talking, laughing.

  We’re in the room with the books that line all the walls.

  We stop to listen to the sound of a train passing nearby. For the first time I realize that the train is close, so close that it shakes the room.

  Then, the train is gone.

  I’m holding her down. Strong hands are gripping her by the neck. Her eyes are bulging, pleading. The life is draining from her.

  I’m looking for the tattoo on the left forearm. It’s not there.

  These look like my arms.

  I strain to concentrate on the fingers around her neck. They are the same length.

  They look like my fingers.

  I shake myself out of the trance.

  I’m shaking and soaked with sweat.

  It’s me. It must be me killing those girls.

  I didn’t know what to do. If Ives returned and started questioning me, I knew I would confess.

  There were noises outside.

  DS Lesley pushed open the door and showed in a technician colleague dressed in black dungarees.

  She waved the new warrant at me. “DI Ives sent this.”

  The technician pointed at the computer. “This the one?”

  I nodded. “Take it, I’m leaving.”

  Lesley stood in my way. “You heard what DI Ives said.”

  I reached into the desk drawer and pulled out the file containing Della’s diary and tucked it under my arm, in plain sight. “I have work to do.”

  She still stood in my way. “Assaulting an officer is a cause for immediate arrest.”

  The technician held up his arms in a gesture that said this is none of my business.

  I pushed past Lesley. She attempted to hold me by the shoulders but I broke free and ran for the stairs.

  As I looked back Lesley was not trying to follow and, instead, was calling for back up on the communication pod she wore on the front of her uniform jacket.

  But by then I was away.

  I headed back to Brogan’s apartment in Shadwell.

  CHAPTER 60

  John Delaney had to admit that there were times when what Ives had said was right. It was more comfortable being Terry Morgan, a life somehow less complicated, played by simpler rules. Those that needed to get high needed to stay high and they needed men like Morgan for that. Need was what that life was all about.

  He knew he wanted out. That couldn’t come soon enough now that Ives was on his case. That meant money enough to get away, to the Far East, maybe, where he cou
ld build a new existence, a new persona, away from all this. And he knew where money could be found.

  Tyrone Montague had done his best to deny Morgan’s place in his social circle, wanting to place him in the same tier in life as the chauffeurs, bodyguards, housekeepers, gardeners and the other modern day servants who maintained his life in style. But Montague, like so many of his special friends within the circle, had his own need of what Terry Morgan offered and, with reluctance, Montague had allowed Morgan into the weekend parties and private club sessions that was the spice of their lives. Of necessity, since how else was Morgan to be discreet in maintaining the supply of the goods that fuelled their lifestyle.

  Time to call on that friendship now.

  They were meeting in a wine bar within walking distance of Canada One. It was evening time and the place was crowded with after work drinkers, plotting next day’s alliances and betrayals. Crowded enough for everyone here to pass without notice.

  Delaney raised his glass. “Your health, Ty.”

  Montague clinked glasses with just enough reluctance to show his friendship was less than unconditional. “You have something on your mind, Terry?”

  “Things you need to know.”

  “Like?”

  “Like there’s a new copper on your case.”

  Montague was trying not to look surprised. “I’m pleased you’re still looking after my interests, Terry. You know that means a lot to me.”

  “Thing is, that may have to change.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That same copper has it in for me as well. I need to get out. And I need your help to do that.”

  “So why would I want to do that?”

  “There’s a place in the Philippines, owned by a friend of my brother and he wants to sell it. It’s a bargain at one-eighty thou. That’s all I’d need to set myself up in a new life, far enough away from here.”

  “One-eighty is one big ask, Terry. You’re not thinking of blackmail are you? You know you must have as much to hide as me. Where would that get you?”

  Delaney thought of playing his ace at this point by telling Montague that he was seated next to an undercover copper. But not just yet.

  “So, what if I tell you that when you hear what I’ve got to say, there’s no way you won’t agree that one-eighty thou is cheap at the price?”

  Montague took another sip of wine. “That’s a risk. I could just walk away.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think you will.”

  “So?”

  “The copper’s name is Ives. Detective Inspector Stephen Ives. He’s investigating the killing of a girl, name of Cathy Newsome.”

  “I’ve heard of the case. What’s it got to do with me?”

  “Seems someone who was close to you who died in mysterious circumstances is now part of the investigation. Ives is looking at whether there’s a connection between her death and the killing of the Newsome girl.”

  Montague’s practiced look of being at ease with the world was starting to slip. “So who are we talking about?”

  “Someone we both know. Stella. Stella DaSilva.”

  “And?”

  “I have contacts, right? Inside the Ives operation And guess what? Ives has been told that Stella kept a diary and that in the diary is a day-by-day account of her life. If and when Ives finds the diary, he’s going to know every detail of Stella’s life here on Canary Wharf. Not just about the drugs but also all she got to find out from her highflying chums in the finance world. Including you and, from what I know, I’d say that would be you on both counts.”

  Montague stiffened. “I see. So, now I say thanks, Terry and walk away and there’s no one-eighty thou.”

  Delaney smiled. “I don’t think so, Ty. One-eighty thou says I can help you find Stella’s diary. And, as I think you know, that’s cheap at the price.”

  “And what if I tell you I’m still going to walk away and find it myself.”

  “That’s when I tell you something important about me that you don’t know but should have been aware of all the time.” Delaney pulled out his Met Police ID card. “You see, I’m an undercover copper, name of Delaney, and I know enough about you and your so called circle of friends to have you all put away long and good.”

  Montague didn’t blink. “OK. Mr. John Delaney. You’ll have your one-eighty thou. Once you bring me the diary.”

  CHAPTER 61

  When I returned to Brogan’s apartment, he looked anxious to see me as he opened the door to let me in. “I’d just about given you up.”

  “Took longer than I thought to get back here.”

  I glanced over to the table where he’d been seated, reading through the print out of Della’s diary that he’d collected at The Herald. Something told me it hadn’t been what he’d expected.

  But first, I had to tell him. “Marshall, you need to know that the police will be looking for me.”

  He sat me down opposite him at the table. “What’s happened? You look shaken up.”

  I placed the file containing my copy of the diary on the table. “That bad?”

  “As if someone’s scared the hell out of you.”

  “That would be Ives. DI Ives. You know I told you about the missing girls. I’m sure he has me in the frame for killing them.”

  “Slow down. What does he have on you that he didn’t have when we talked about this on the drive from Lichfield?”

  I told him about Ives’ visit to The Herald and the dating site. “He has proof that I was in contact with the girls on the Orion site and implied I’ve been stalking them. He’s building a case.”

  Brogan shook his head. “So what? You’re a journalist.”

  There was something that didn’t feel right about the way he was responding to me. Something I couldn’t place. As if he was trying to draw me out in some way.

  Brogan was full of questions. “Do they know you’re here?”

  “No.”

  “Then we have time.” He paused to emphasize the importance of what he said next. “Tom, there’s a question you need to answer. There’s a reason you were investigating those girls. You know what it is. Why can’t you come out with it?”

  It came as a shock. Maybe it was because of the fear I’d been experiencing since Ives began accusing me. Maybe it was because Brogan had voiced the question in such a simple and unavoidable way.

  Something that had been there in my memory but prevented from seeing the light of day was breaking through.

  The thought formed itself on my tongue in the moment that the words came out. “I was investigating a serial killer.”

  “Then what you did, searching for his next victim, makes sense.”

  I was stunned by what I’d discovered. “He’s out there. He’s been out there all this time.”

  “And Ives is only just getting to understand what he’s dealing with.”

  “The problem is, he thinks the serial killer could be me.”

  “He has no evidence other than the dating site and that’s taking him nowhere.”

  “And the fact that I told him I’ve seen the girls being killed.”

  “Send Ives back to your medical man. Healey, isn’t it? He’ll tell him he needs to get real evidence.”

  I was taken in by Brogan’s skepticism of anything the police do or say. It reminded me that nothing had changed since the day we first met as kids back in Nottingham. He was then, as now, ready for a fight with anything that looked like authority. But something told me I couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t just offering me this defense as a means of drawing me out for some purpose of his own.

  I opened the file I’d brought with me from the office and laid out my copy of Della’s diary.

  He glanced down at his pile, half read by now. He shook his head. “I was prepared for anything. I knew the life Della was living was something I couldn’t condone. I tried to get her to change once I found her but she wouldn’t listen.” Anger mixed with sorrow began to show once more. “Don’t you t
hink I’ve asked myself a thousand times why I didn’t try harder?”

  “You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

  “It’s too late for that, anyhow. It’s a luxury I don’t have. Or at the least, one I’ll save for torturing myself with later. All that matters now is finding who killed Della.” He spread his hands over the diary print out on the table before him. “And I believe the answer lies somewhere in here. But there’s a problem. Della liked her secrets.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He read out the first entry that came to hand.

  “May 22nd. To the Starlight with DS. She’s a slippery one. Been running around with FD when all the time she has her eyes on DP.”

  Brogan beat his fist on the table in frustration. “See what I mean? Just like her to not be satisfied with the encryption. She uses initials to refer to everyone.”

  He read out another entry.

  “December 1st. TM is a weird one but I really love him. Don’t know what I’d do without him. Even if he is running around with that tart BW.”

  He sat back. “How is this going to be of any use?”

  “She told you it was all in here, what she kept on people she knew in case she needed it. We’re just going to have to work out who everyone is.”

  “It’s worse than any code.”

  “We should be able to work out some of them out from what we both know.”

  He looked and me long and slow. “I don’t want to be indelicate here, Tom, but isn’t that something you’re going to find difficult?” He paused. “And as for me, I hardly had time to get to know Della let alone the people she was mixed up with.”

  “Then we’ll have to find someone, one of her friends, who’ll be able to put names to those initials.”

  He looked at his wristwatch. “I have five hours before I go on shift. I’ll start the diary again at the beginning and work my way through the first year. Maybe you can read from the beginning of year two. Then we can see what we have.”

  I agreed. “OK.”

  The intention was not to read each day’s entry in detail but rather to skim over it in favor of discovering how many people we had to identify from their initials. But as we skim read, we couldn’t help calling out comments on those entries that stood out.