Dark Shadows

by Sibel Hodge

  ‘So you don’t know anyone who’s been approached by someone dodgy here then?’ I asked.

  They both shook their heads.

  ‘Phew. That’s a relief.’ I put a hand to my chest. ‘I’m thinking of trying the Buddhist Meditation Society tomorrow. But I was a bit worried I was going to get brainwashed!’ I laughed, making light of it.

  They laughed back.

  ‘We’ve only tried the active student classes,’ Millie said. ‘They’re just like going to a regular sports club class, though. No whackos there, thankfully.’ Millie took a swig of vodka.

  ‘Yeah, and we only go because Curtis goes to loads of them and helps organise them.’ Jess snorted. ‘I couldn’t walk for a week after the circuit training class.’

  I thought back to the statements about Natalie that said she didn’t belong to any clubs, but I wondered if she’d been to the fitness classes, too. It hadn’t been mentioned, so I said as casually as possible, ‘Do you usually go to the classes in a group? Or is it just you two?’

  ‘Just me and Millie,’ Jess said. ‘Natalie was never into the whole exercise thing, so she never used to come with us.’

  I glanced around. The place was getting busier. The band inside the bar area were doing a sound check.

  I approached the subject of Jess or Millie knowing where I could earn a bit of extra cash, but neither did.

  Millie downed the rest of her drink. ‘Right. My round. Same again?’ She jumped to her feet and then swayed, gripping the edge of the table. ‘Oops.’ She giggled.

  ‘I’m not going to have to carry you home like Natalie, am I?’ Jess said to her.

  Millie giggled. ‘It’s uni. We’re supposed to be permanently drunk. What you having, Becky?’

  I could hardly ask for a non-alcoholic drink while I was supposed to be blending in. Besides, the measures were small, and one shot wasn’t going to affect me. ‘Vodka, lime, and soda, please.’

  Millie took my glass and weaved through the tables towards the bar.

  ‘Was Natalie a big drinker then?’ I asked.

  ‘She liked to have fun. She’d get drunk but not wasted. Although one night we were here, and she was really out of it. We were inside.’ Jess pointed towards the bar. ‘We’d only had a couple of drinks, and Millie and me got chatting to a couple of people. Then, next thing we knew, Natalie had disappeared. We went to look for her when she didn’t come back and found her slumped on the floor outside of her accommodation block’s front door in a right daze. We asked her what had happened, and she didn’t have a clue. She didn’t seem drunk. She wasn’t slurring her words or anything. She was just really kind of… I don’t know, in a trance almost. Didn’t know where she’d been. We thought she’d just drunk too much on an empty stomach.’

  ‘It happens,’ I said. But that was starting to sound suspiciously familiar about all three students… that they’d been found by friends, dazed and disorientated, in a trance-like state, doing things and saying things they appeared to have no memory of. ‘Do you think someone could’ve spiked her drink?’

  ‘I doubt it. She always drank bottles of beer, and we’re not stupid about leaving our drinks around. But it was strange, because one minute she was fine, and the next, she’d just disappeared and was all weird.’

  Millie stumbled back, and we chatted and drank. Chatted and drank. I brought up Natalie into the conversation whenever I could angle it in there, but I learned nothing more. The band started, and it was too loud to talk anymore, so they watched them while I kept an eye on the crowd in case Tara had changed her mind, but she didn’t appear.

  As the band took a break, Curtis came over to our table and rested his hands on the wooden top.

  ‘Hi, ladies.’ He smiled warmly at us.

  Millie glanced up at him with a dazed grin on her face. ‘Hi, Curtis!’ She slapped a hand gently on his forearm. She was quite drunk and obviously throwing off her inhibitions. ‘What’da’ya think of the band?’ she slurred.

  ‘Yeah, they’re smart.’ He glanced down at her hand, his lips quirking up into what looked like an embarrassed smile. He obviously knew the effect he had on women but seemed quietly flattered by it rather than arrogant. ‘Can I entice you to the HIIT class tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes!’ Millie said instantly.

  ‘Sounds too painful for me,’ I said.

  He laughed.

  ‘We can’t. We’ve got a lecture.’ Jess rolled her eyes at Millie, most likely because she’d already told her that earlier.

  Millie pouted. ‘Boring.’

  Curtis shrugged. ‘No problem. Maybe see you at circuit training then?’

  Millie put her forefinger in the air. ‘Yeah. I love circuit training.’

  ‘Cool.’ He tapped the table, his friendly demeanour turning serious, the smile sliding off his face. ‘Did you hear about the car accident outside the uni earlier?’

  I sat up straighter. Another car accident? ‘What happened?’

  ‘Marcelina was crossing the road and got hit by a car. That’s what was happening when I had to leave suddenly earlier,’ he said to me. ‘They took her to hospital.’

  Millie gasped. ‘Oh, no. That’s bad. Who’s Marcelina?’

  ‘She’s a student here. She lives in my block.’

  ‘Don’t know her,’ Jess said. ‘But that’s horrible.’

  Millie shook her head. ‘I hope she’s going to be okay.’

  ‘Yeah, me, too.’ Curtis rubbed the back of his neck as he looked down at the ground.

  ‘That’s awful,’ I said, wondering if it was something else suspicious I should look into.

  A pained frown morphed across Curtis’s forehead. ‘Yeah, she was just lying on the ground, unconscious. Me and some of her friends tried to go and see her, but they wouldn’t let us in to visit yet. She’s in a coma.’

  ‘Do you know who hit her?’ I asked.

  ‘Some old guy in an SUV. He was proper shaken up. Police came and everything.’ He sighed. ‘Anyway, maybe I’ll catch you later.’ He turned and walked towards his friends, Millie ogling after his retreating back, tight T-shirt rippling over obviously well-toned muscles.

  I got up. ‘Sorry, I need to go, too. It was lovely to catch up, though. Thanks again for the invite.’

  ‘Yeah. No worries. See you tomorrow at the lecture.’ Jess waved.

  ‘Laters,’ Millie said then hiccupped, slapping a hand over her face.

  As the band started up again, I walked away from the terrace until I was far enough away to be able to hear properly. I sat down on a bench in front of the Watling Centre medical block—the place Tara had seen Vicky disappear into late at night—and called the one and only number programmed into the burner phone.

  ‘Hi, sir,’ I said quietly to Sutherby, even though no one was around.

  ‘Evening. I got your email. Thanks for that.’

  ‘I don’t have much more for you right now, but I just heard something about an RTA outside the uni earlier. Do you know about it? I was wondering if it might be related somehow.’

  ‘I haven’t heard anything. I’ll check it out and get back to you soonest.’

  ‘Thanks, sir.’ I hung up and stared at the front of the Watling Centre. All the lights were off, apart from one in a top-floor window.

  Why had Vicky been going there out of hours? I was chewing on my lip, trying to work out if it was relevant, when someone exited the front door. He wore jeans and a hoodie with the hood pulled up, which was weird, considering it was about twenty-seven degrees and humid out. I got a glimpse of his face before he tucked his head down, hands stuffed in his pockets, and walked along the path away from me.

  It was hard to put an age on him, but he was probably anywhere between thirty and forty. He could’ve been either a mature student or a member of the teaching staff. His long nose tapered to a blunt end, and he had defined cheekbones and a squarish chin. His physique beneath his clothes looked well-built. I couldn’t see his eyes properly in the low sodium lighting of the path
way, and his hair was hidden by the hood. But Hoodie Guy had sparked my interest. He moved like a panther, with an air of the hunter about him. I’d studied hours of CCTV footage from crimes, watching suspects and offenders. Police officers learned to read body language well, and I thought I was pretty good at it. That guy had been furtive, with a definite element of something suspicious about him.

  I thought about Natalie possibly having a secret relationship with Professor Cain. Could that be why Vicky was visiting the Watling Centre late at night, too, because she was also seeing a member of the teaching staff and trying to keep it quiet? Meeting him in his office after everyone else had gone home. While it wasn’t illegal for a tutor or professor to have a consensual relationship or sex with a student who was over eighteen and there would be a code of practice in place here to protect the welfare of both parties, it could still be risky. The obvious inequality of power at play could make the student very vulnerable, which meant a fine line between mutual consent and sexual harassment. How easy would it be for a student to reject a tutor? Would their grades suffer because of it? And I was betting any member of staff who did make a play for their students didn’t do it as a one-off. There would most likely be repeat scenarios with newer, younger students. Was it possible there was a sexual predator on the staff here?

  I got up and walked away, still full of questions and with little evidence to answer them.

  Chapter 16

  Toni

  I let myself into my small rented apartment. It had come fully furnished, but I’d bought some things to put my own stamp on it and turn it into my cosy sanctuary—colourful throws on the worn sofa, prints of positive, uplifting quotes and hangings on the walls, plants, candles and incense burners, and my huge collection of research books that now filled a brand-new bookcase in the lounge. The main reason I’d taken it in the first place was the good security system—a video intercom, an alarm, and steel doors with heavy-duty locks. I still wasn’t leaving anything to chance, though. After the kidnapping, I’d learned Krav Maga self-defence. Plus, Mitchell had taught me some of his SAS techniques. Still, nothing would ever be enough to stop Mum worrying about me.

  I kicked off my shoes before heading straight to the kitchen area in the corner of the open-plan living space, where I put Marcelina’s bag and my own handbag on the worktop.

  I’d waited around until Marcelina’s scans had been completed and Dr Fellows gave me an update. It didn’t look good. Marcelina had widespread swelling on her brain and was in a coma. But no tumour or brain abnormality had been discovered that could’ve caused Marcelina to black out. She’d been moved to the critical care unit, where she could be monitored carefully before they decided whether to operate to relieve the pressure.

  I grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and took a long swig, staring through the kitchen window to the car park below. For the first time since I could remember, I felt lonely. I’d always been the geeky loner girl at school, burying my head in a book or research rather than hitting the pubs, getting drunk, or hanging out with friends. I always felt more comfortable in small groups, and I’d had one close friend throughout high school, who was now working back in my hometown in Buckinghamshire. We texted and phoned regularly, but I hadn’t made any new friends here yet.

  Mum had always called me studious, conscientious, and ahead of my years. Other students thought I was weird. They’d called me a boring nerd, along with many other ruder versions throughout my life, but I didn’t care. Yes, I was serious. Yes, I was focused and had goals. But trivial stuff just wasn’t in my makeup. I couldn’t worry about things like what I looked like, what I wore, or who a current celebrity was sleeping with, when there were far too many important injustices and atrocities going on in the world. Like a lot of empaths, I was an introvert who needed alone time. I didn’t just feel people’s pain and energy; I absorbed it, and that could be overwhelming sometimes. Other people’s suffering stripped away a little piece of my soul, and the pieces stacked up, so I needed time by myself to reset my energy levels. But now I truly did feel on my own, and I didn’t like it.

  ‘Snap out of it, Toni,’ I said. ‘You’re just upset.’ I took another swig of beer and turned away from the window.

  I thought about making a sandwich but knew I couldn’t eat anything with the guilt still lying heavy in my stomach. I kept seeing the point of impact when Marcelina’s body hurtled through the air and bounced on the ground. I knew I should practice what I preached about guilt in all the counselling sessions I did with clients, but I still felt at least partially responsible for what had happened to Marcelina.

  All my life, I’d wanted to help people, to help them heal themselves. I’d been working towards this goal for years, and the main area of counselling I wanted to get into was helping young victims of crime. But I’d failed Marcelina with drastic consequences. She’d taken the first step by asking for help, and I’d let her down. She hadn’t felt comfortable enough to talk things through so she could’ve left my office feeling calmer, instead of highly distressed. Maybe I didn’t know how to say the right things to clients. Maybe I wasn’t cut out to do this job at all. A tsunami of self-doubt and fears of incompetence hit me at full pelt.

  I sat on the sofa, legs curled beside me, going over again in my head everything Marcelina had said in the session, trying to work out how I could’ve done things differently. Her words echoed in my ears.

  I keep losing time. I think I’m sleepwalking, but it’s in the daytime. I do things, and I can’t remember what. I’m at some place, and I don’t know how I got there.

  It sounded like she was having blackouts of some kind, but why? Was she just stressed or suffering from anxiety? Was substance abuse of some kind causing her symptoms? She’d said no, so was there more to it? And what about the ‘shadow man’ reference? Someone watching her. Was that her way of trying to tell me she had some kind of stalker following her? She’d been scared. I’d felt it emanating from her. Scared of what? Or who? Had someone assaulted her? Perhaps her symptoms were trauma-related. A recent survey I’d read had said that almost two-thirds of students and graduates had experienced sexual violence at UK universities, but only one in ten reported it to the police or university staff. I wondered if she’d stepped in front of the car on purpose. Had she been feeling suicidal because of something that had happened to her? Because I’d handled things wrong, she’d never had the chance to tell me so I could try to help her.

  I shuddered at the thought and took another swig of beer. Phil would tell me to let it go, but I couldn’t. I was the one who’d got Marcelina in the situation she was in now. I owed it to her to find out. She’d need help more than ever when she woke up.

  I glanced at Marcelina’s handbag, my mind in overdrive. I got off the sofa and stood at the worktop, staring at it. If I looked inside, it would be an invasion of privacy, completely unethical, and an abuse of trust, but that didn’t deter me. If someone out there had hurt her or threatened her somehow, I wanted to find out who.

  I slipped a hand inside the bag, unzipped the compartments, and pulled everything out onto the worktop. A pencil case. A laptop. Mobile phone. A course textbook. Two notebooks. Hairbrush. Purse. Packet of Smarties. A set of keys. A half-drunk bottle of iced tea.

  The outer casing of the laptop was cracked, and as I opened the lid, I saw the screen was smashed. No doubt when her bag had fallen from Marcelina’s hand in the accident, it had bounced against the tarmac. I switched the laptop on, but nothing happened. I tried a couple of times, but it was completely dead, so I put it to one side and picked up her phone.

  I pressed the Home button to wake it up, but it was protected with touch ID. Only Marcelina could open it with her fingerprint. I set it on top of the laptop and looked through her purse. There were some coins in the zip compartment and one hundred pounds in notes in the wallet side, along with a photo of Marcelina and a couple who looked as if they must’ve been her parents. A few receipts for food from the coffee shop in the stud
ent union building were stuffed at the back.

  I picked up one of the notebooks and flicked through. It was a third full of coursework-related stuff, so I turned my attention to the second one, which turned out to be a journal.

  The entries started six months ago and were just a few paragraphs at a time about ordinary, everyday student life.

  16/9/18

  Met Precious, Hazel, and Curtis for lunch in the union. He’s so nice, but I don’t think he’s interested in me, and I’m too embarrassed to ask him out for a drink… or more! Ha! I’m eating too much junk food here. I’ve put on weight. Need to do some fitness classes. And no, not just because Curtis is always going. I really DO need to go on a diet.

  20/9/18

  Invited to a birthday party at the bar tomorrow night, but I’m so late on my essay I might miss it to study. Boring! Anyway, I went to Boot Camp class today. Hard work, but it was worth it to see Curtis in a tank top and shorts. Heee! Not that he’d like me looking a sweaty mess. Must get over this crush. Everyone likes him. I won’t stand a chance.

  24/10/18

  Absolutely loving the course and uni life. Can’t be bothered to join any clubs, but I’ve been keeping up the fitness classes. I can see real muscles now. I think it’s actually addictive. Got an A for my latest essay. I rock! Maybe a slice of banoffee pie today to celebrate.

  I read through lots of mundane excerpts of her life over the next few months and was about to give up when I came to the more recent entries.

  30/3/19

  Went to see PK today. Been thinking about it for a while, and I can earn some extra money, so I thought why not? Can’t say anything about it. Shhh. It seems okay. Nothing too demanding. And it helps, so it’s win-win, really. I’m doing something good.

  7/4/19

  Been feeling a bit weird lately. Can’t seem to concentrate, and I’m having horrible dreams. Really scary stuff. Last night there was a slasher clown after me. Nothing seems that interesting anymore. Maybe I’m coming down with something.