by Sibel Hodge
‘Okay. I think we need to also check out a physiotherapy student called Curtis. He’s in his second year. Natalie knew him, he’s very popular, and he seems to be popping up everywhere. He’d make an ideal recruiter for a cult.’
‘Will do.’
‘Oh, and there’s something else.’ I told him about the strange Help me! message written on the mirror. ‘Not sure if it means anything significant, though.’
‘Vicky could’ve written it when she was drunk. Or maybe it was a cry for help that no one noticed.’
‘Maybe. I’ll keep on digging from my end.’
I hung up, picked up my laptop and phone, and went into the communal kitchen. There were a couple of guys in there I hadn’t seen yet, making a sandwich. I introduced myself, made chitchat, then casually asked them the same kinds of questions I’d asked everyone else. I learned nothing new or helpful. When they left for lectures, I logged on to the internet and dug a little deeper into Professor Cain, but nothing jumped out at me. I had no proof Cain was involved in anything untoward, even if he had possibly been having an affair with Natalie or Vicky. I wasn’t getting anywhere. I was just going off on tangents. The suspicious guy with the hoodie was who I needed to concentrate on.
Chapter 24
Detective Becky Harris
I logged on to the uni’s intranet and looked in the student chat rooms, seeing if any threads or usernames popped up that seemed as if they were enticing people to join groups or participate in anything weird or suspicious. I went through posts relating to coursework, stress, depression, anxiety, relationship problems, and all manner of uni life. If there was some kind of brainwashing going on by a sinister group who wanted to manipulate people into doing the most awful things to themselves or others for some twisted and sick reason, I was betting Hoodie Guy was the leader. But after spending over two hours trawling, I found no online bullying, nothing about strange hazing rituals, and no possible cult-like behaviour.
I snapped my laptop shut. I was brain-dead, and it was coffee hour for the LGBTQ Society. Time to ask more questions.
I found Toby, Jaxon, Ivy, and Phoebe sitting on the beanbags in the corner of the meeting room, eating lunch with their food perched on their laps, chatting away. Another guy sat at a table in the corner, staring down at his phone, his fingertip tapping frantically at the screen as if sending a message.
‘Oh, hey!’ Phoebe grinned at me, beckoning me forward. ‘Come and join us.’
The others all greeted me. I grabbed a coffee from the urn and walked towards them.
‘That’s Ned, by the way.’ Toby pointed to the guy at the table. ‘Ned, Becky.’
Ned glanced up and gave me a distracted smile before his gaze glued back on his phone.
‘He’s chatting to a new guy he’s met on Grindr.’ Ivy nodded in Ned’s direction. ‘We haven’t been able to get any conversation out of him, either, so don’t take it personally.’ She rolled her eyes as she perched on the edge of her beanbag, managing to look elegant. I eyed an empty beanbag and then decided to sit on the floor next to Jaxon. No doubt I’d end up spilling coffee all over myself if I sat on it. I felt way too old for beanbag lounging.
‘How’re you settling in?’ Ivy asked.
‘Yeah, so far so good.’ I took my phone out of my pocket. ‘Only thing is… some guy pranged my car in the car park and drove off. I managed to take a photo of him before he left, but stupidly, I didn’t catch the registration number.’ I swiped through to the close-up photo of Hoodie Guy behind the windscreen that I’d snapped from the CCTV footage and held the phone in front of me. ‘Do any of you know who he is?’
Toby peered at the screen. ‘Nope, never seen him before.’ He passed it on to Phoebe.
‘No, sorry.’ She shook her head. ‘What a bummer, though.’
Jaxon and Ivy didn’t recognise him, either, which meant they couldn’t have ever seen him watching the house or hanging around with Ajay.
‘Bad luck—and only on your second day here, too.’ Toby grimaced before expertly stuffing noodles into his mouth with chopsticks.
‘I know.’ I put away my phone and pulled a suitably pissed-off face. My stomach rumbled. The overnight oats hadn’t filled me up as much as I’d thought they would, and I looked at Toby’s food longingly. ‘And I’ve got a problem with the shower in my room. Comes out scalding hot.’
‘Don’t worry; it’s not just your room,’ Phoebe said. ‘There’s some weird problem with the water system in the accommodation blocks here.’
‘Oh, okay. Well, there’s also a bitchy girl in my block. So I was actually thinking that maybe it would be better to live off campus. But I wouldn’t know where to start looking. I found a room available in a shared house a few miles away, but I didn’t know if it was in a dodgy area or not since I’m not familiar with this town yet.’ I named the road where they’d had their previous rental, before it went up in smoke.
‘That’s where we were living.’ Phoebe put down her unfinished sandwich on her lap, tears in her eyes.
I felt like a shit, bringing it all back up again, but it was the only way I could think of to get them talking about it. I reached out and touched her forearm. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.’
‘It’s not your fault.’ Jaxon rubbed the back of his neck. ‘It was a great place to live until… well.’ He shrugged helplessly.
‘There was never any trouble there,’ Ivy said.
‘No gangs or dodgy people hanging around?’ I asked.
‘Nothing like that,’ Ivy said.
I couldn’t really ask anything more in depth without seeming suspicious, so I finished my coffee and told them I was going to check out the HIIT class. ‘It was recommended by a guy called Curtis, who’s a physio student.’ I waited to see if his name rang a bell. No one batted an eyelid, though. ‘Have any of you been to the active student classes? I’m a bit out of shape at the moment, so I don’t want to make a complete idiot out of myself if they’re really hard.’ I laughed.
Jaxon snorted. ‘We’re not really into all that boot camp stuff.’
‘Oh, speak for yourself.’ Toby wiggled his eyebrows up and down. ‘There’s bound to be some pretty fit guys in there. Maybe I’ll give it a go one day.’
I left them to it and walked past the food court, trying to ignore the amazing smells. I didn’t have time for lunch yet. Instead I had two choices. One, go to the HIIT class and see if Curtis tried to hijack my brain for cult-like purposes, or see if he recognised the photo of Hoodie Guy. But if Curtis was involved in this, either with Hoodie Guy or alone, then I didn’t want to tip him off just yet. I still very much doubted that any fitness classes were where a possible cult would recruit members. And I wasn’t even convinced there actually was a cult at work. That left my second choice: go to the lecture that Natalie’s friends, Millie and Jess, were supposed to be at and see if they recognised Hoodie Guy.
I still had twenty minutes before the lecture started, so I walked out of the union, followed the path towards the Watling Centre, and went inside. It was set up like a clinic environment, with a reception desk, a seating area off to the left, complete with six people waiting, and medical-related posters adorning the walls.
The receptionist looked up from her laptop and offered me a welcoming smile. ‘Hi, do you have an appointment?’
‘Appointment?’ I glanced around at the people in the waiting area. An elderly couple sat in the far corner of the room, holding hands. A middle-aged man sat opposite them, reading a paperback. ‘I thought this block was for medical lectures or practical classes.’
‘No, that’s the next block along.’ She pointed to her right. ‘This is the research clinic run by the university.’
‘Oh. Right. What kind of research do you do here?’
‘Gosh, a lot. Are you a medical student wanting to help out with the research, or are you thinking about participating in a study?’
‘Maybe participating. But I don’t have anything wrong with me.’
‘Some of the studies involve patients who actually have a particular disease. But there are many clinics where we also need healthy study groups to participate. Let me get you some more information about all the clinics that might be suitable.’ She went to a low-level long table behind her desk with a huge array of brochures fanned out on top. She picked up several and handed them to me.
I flicked through one. There were glossy photos of equipment and smiling doctors and patients. ‘Do you get paid for being in these studies?’
‘Yes.’
‘And who funds them?’
‘It depends. The university funds some. For others, we get research grants from the private sector.’
‘Are the appointments during the daytimes?’
‘Yes, all of the clinics run between normal office hours. Nine to five.’
‘No one does any clinics or treatment outside that?’
‘Not usually, no, but we’re flexible with appointments, so I’m sure you’d be able to slot a time in between your lectures.’
‘Does Professor Cain have any clinics here?’
‘No. He’s purely teaching faculty.’
‘Right. I’ll have a look through these then and come back.’ I wiggled the brochures in the air. ‘Oh, before I go, I was wondering… someone hit my car parked in the accommodation block earlier, but he drove off. I’ve been asking everyone if they know who he is.’ I pulled out my phone and showed her the photo of Hoodie Guy.
She peered at it then shook her head. ‘No, sorry, I don’t have a clue.’ She handed it back.
‘Thanks for your help.’ I made my way outside and stuffed the brochures in my backpack, deep in thought. Tara had seen Vicky going into the Watling Centre late at night, after patient hours, exactly the same as with Hoodie Guy. Millie and Jess had said they thought Natalie was having an affair with Professor Cain, who was involved in medicine. Ajay was a medical student who could’ve been participating in a study here as a student for extra credit or as a patient. A tingle of excitement ran through me. This place was the first solid link I had tying them together, along with the unaccountable money they’d had. Money that they could’ve got from all being involved in some kind of research study.
I hurried to the lecture theatre and spotted Jess and Millie outside. Jess leaned against the wall of the building with a cigarette on the go. Millie sat on the grass, her face pale.
‘Hi,’ I said.
‘Urgh.’ Millie grimaced. ‘How come you’re so cheery? My head’s still not right from last night. I just want to go back to bed.’
‘Oooh, nasty,’ I said.
‘I’m not surprised, the amount you drunk.’ Jess snorted and took a drag on her cigarette.
‘So you didn’t make it to any fitness classes earlier then, to catch up with Curtis?’ I asked.
‘No. But hands off him. I saw him first,’ Millie grumbled, but it wasn’t in a bitchy way.
‘Not like she hasn’t tried, though.’ Jess laughed. ‘She’s been trying to get him to notice her properly for months, but he’s too into his fitness. Maybe he’s gay.’
‘It would be a big waste to the female population if he was,’ Millie said then pointed behind me. ‘I’d rather have Curtis than him any day.’
I turned to see who she was pointing at. A tall man in his early fifties with thick sandy hair, a neatly clipped goatee, and red-framed glasses was carrying a briefcase as he strode along the pathway in his pinstriped suit. ‘That’s the guy we think Natalie was shagging. Professor Cain.’
I frowned. No, it wasn’t. I’d seen Cain’s photo, and this was someone completely different. ‘Are you sure that’s his name?’
Jess shrugged. ‘I think so.’
I watched him until he disappeared from view behind another building, then I pulled out my phone and showed them the photo of Hoodie Guy, giving them the same spiel about him hitting my car. But neither of them appeared to recognise him.
Jess stubbed out her cigarette in the metal ashtray outside the building. ‘Come on.’ She dragged Millie to her feet. ‘We’ll be late for the lecture. You coming, Becky?’
‘Actually, I’ve just remembered I need to do something urgent,’ I said. ‘I’ll have to miss this one.’
‘Lucky you.’ Millie rubbed her forehead. ‘Wish I could skip it, too.’
‘If you catch up with us in the bar later, you can copy my notes,’ Jess said.
‘Thanks.’
I jogged away, hoping to find out where the man with the goatee had gone, but I was out of luck. He’d vanished.
Chapter 25
Farzard
Farzad Nuri walked the mile and a half into town from his house. The sun bore down on him, but he couldn’t feel it. He didn’t notice the sweat pooling between his shoulder blades and dripping down his back beneath his T-shirt. He didn’t notice the sound of traffic whizzing along the main road beside him, people’s conversations as they walked by, and the child crying in the distance.
All he could hear were the thoughts in his head. His voice, but not his voice. He was heading towards the beach. When he got there, he could relax. Kick off his shoes. Feel the sand between his toes. Maybe take a swim. He hadn’t been to the beach in a long time. He was from the town of Luton, but his parents used to take him to the coastal resort of Dawlish every year for summer holidays. He’d always loved it.
Shadows passed by him, peripheral shapes shifting.
Shapeshifters. He smiled to himself. What is a shapeshifter?
I’m walking along the path to the beach. When I get there, it will all be perfect. But there’s something I need to do first.
Walking. One foot in front of the other. Nearly there. I’m in a vortex.
Yes, but what kind of vortex?
A mass of air or water spinning around me? Or a dangerous situation I can’t escape from?
No, there’s no danger here. Just do it, Farzad.
Faces loomed in front of him, but he couldn’t see them properly. His eyes were fixed on a distant goal.
A voice asked someone if they wanted milk with their coffee. They couldn’t be talking to him. He was on a mission. He was going to the beach. He didn’t know these people. So it must’ve been the voices. The ones that wanted him to do things.
Flashes of white light pulsed in his brain. And then there was screaming. Piercing noise. Someone shouting for the police. Others yelling at someone to get away.
The images on the edge of his vision swam into focus. There was blood. A knife in his hand. A knife? In my hand?
He stood over a man lying on the ground.
‘What the…?’ He twirled around, looking at the crowd keeping their distance. They looked scared of him.
Farzad stared down at the man. His eyes were closed. Blood oozed from a wound in his stomach. Farzad blinked rapidly, his mind drifting back to the present. ‘What happened?’ He kneeled next to the man, looked up at the crowd, and yelled, ‘Someone call an ambulance!’
The crowd lurched backwards with a collective gasp as Farzad staggered to his feet, knife still in his fist, waving it at the crowd, trying to get them to listen to him. ‘He needs help!’
Farzad looked at his hand with horror, his mouth wide open with incomprehension. He opened his palm, letting the knife fall to the ground.
Run, Farzad! the voice said. Turn around and run to the end of the road. Keep running, and I’ll find you. Go now!
He didn’t look back at the man or the crowd. He just obeyed and started running.
Chapter 26
Detective Becky Harris
I headed back to my room to do some research on who Mr Pinstripe Suit was and find out more about the Watling Centre. I sat down at my desk and opened the brochure the receptionist had given me. I paged through it until I spotted a photo of the same man sitting behind a desk. Within the first few lines I discovered his name was Professor Klein, not Cain. Jess and Millie had got it wrong. He was a neuroscientist research fellow at the university and ran some of
the Biomedical Sciences and Engineering Department’s research clinics. His bio was sparse. All it said was:
Professor Brian Klein has spearheaded developments in technology for medical diagnosis and use in the management of disease and human emotion prediction.
I flicked the page and found out he was specifically involved in a study for the Memory Research Group, which focused on using behavioural measures and brain imaging to understand memory and emotional function in both healthy populations and those affected as a result of Alzheimer’s, epilepsy, stroke, and dementia. My pulse quickened as I read, sure I was finally on to something solid.
We use a number of different methods, including diagnostic tests, which could include functional magnetic resonance imaging and CT scans, along with behavioural experiments and wearable smart technology that transmits information wirelessly to our data systems. We need volunteers of all ages for our research in both healthy and clinical populations.
St Albans University’s Biomedical Sciences and Engineering Department is home to some of the world’s finest minds in the field. The aim of our unique research in biomedicine science is to incorporate both biomolecular studies on disease mechanism and the invention of innovative medical technology for managing disease and treating illness and injury. It is our mission to extend life, ease pain, combat disease, and enhance a healthy state.
My heart pounded against my ribs with excitement. What did all that have in common? Memory and brain studies.
I sucked in a breath as I stared at the pages before opening up an internet tab to search for more on Klein.
But there wasn’t much else to find. All I discovered about him was an article from 1999 that said he’d studied medicine at Johns Hopkins University in the States and then taken various postgraduate programmes in neuroscience and biomedical science. Afterwards, he’d worked for a neuroscience company called Lapika in the USA. There was no mention of him afterwards, which seemed very strange. Neither did he appear to have any social media accounts.
