by S J Bolton
‘Let me think about it. Go home. I’ll call you in the morning.’
The thing was inches above me, choosing its moment. I couldn’t see it but I knew it was there. Like a bad smell, like the howling in the wind, like the fingertips on the back of your neck, there was no denying it. I reached up, my hand claw-like, scratching and tearing. Except I touched nothing. My hand hadn’t moved from where it lay on the bed. I could not move.
The silence was broken by howling. Howling like wolves, like banshees, like demons. It rang through the night until I thought my head would burst. Then a sound like thunder. Relentless hammering, over and over again. I was lifted up, high into the air, and flung across the room. I landed hard and knew it would hurt if I lived through the next few seconds.
The thing above me lowered its head and I felt hot breath against my face. I knew teeth were a split second away.
‘Tox! Laura! What the hell’s going on?’
Voices I knew. I could see again. The nightmare took a pace back. I was in the study room that Tox and I shared, crouched on all fours like a toddler that had given up on the whole gravity business. The dog, shaking, but holding it together a whole lot better than I, was licking my face. And the hammering of thunder had been the sound of the other girls banging on the door, wondering why on earth they’d been woken by a barking and snarling dog.
Saturday 19 January (three days earlier)
WHEN THE KNOCK sounded Evi almost didn’t get up. She’d had too little sleep the night before, finally dropping off a couple of hours before dawn. The pain she’d woken to had been the worst in years and her medication, so far, wasn’t helping. She’d spent the last hour in an armchair by the garden window. The patch of sunlight was soothing, the warmth helped the pain and she was beginning to feel she might doze off again. Now there was someone at the door.
The banging began again. Not a hesitant, trying-its-luck sort of sound. This was the knock of someone determined to have attention. Evi got to her feet.
Laura Farrow, the undercover police officer, was on her doorstep and Evi’s first thought was that she looked dreadful. There were dark circles beneath eyes that seemed to have shrunk in her face. Her mouth was paler and smaller. It was the first time Evi had seen her without make-up or so plainly dressed. Normally, Laura made an effort with her appearance. This morning, she’d just thrown on jogging clothes and trainers.
The second thing she noticed was that Laura hadn’t come alone. Wrapped around her right hand was what looked like the belt from a dressing gown. Attached to the other end of the belt was a dog collar. With a dog in it.
The dog’s white-tipped tail was waving like a flag and excitement shone out of its big brown eyes. Considering they hadn’t met before, it was looking remarkably pleased to see Evi.
‘We need to talk,’ Laura said.
‘You have a dog,’ replied Evi, not moving from her spot just inside the front door.
The detective glanced down, as though only just remembering the dog was there. It looked like a greyhound, sleek and slim, with a long, thin nose. Its black coat had white markings. It turned its head from Evi to look at Laura, ears perked. It almost seemed to be waiting for her to speak. Then it looked back at Evi. The movement of its white-tipped tail slowed.
‘Yes,’ Laura said. ‘Do you mind? I tried to leave him in the car. Twice. He starts howling every time I walk away. I think he’s house-trained.’
In the greater scheme of things … Evi stepped back and led Laura and her dog to the sitting room. Evi took the armchair she’d just vacated and nodded to Laura to take the other. The dog began to explore the room, sniffing under chairs, in corners, behind the TV.
‘If he cocks a leg I’ll be mortified,’ said Laura, watching its progress nervously.
‘You and me both,’ said Evi.
It didn’t. It completed its tour of the room and found the patch of sunlight at Evi’s feet. One ear up, the other down, sighing deeply, it settled down, lying like a sheepdog, with legs tucked beneath it, its attention shifting from one woman to the other, as though waiting for an instruction. Or for a ball to be thrown.
‘How come you have a dog?’ asked Evi.
‘Long story,’ said Laura. ‘I know we’re not supposed to meet today but things are worrying me. You don’t look too good, by the way, sorry to be blunt. Has something else happened?’
Evi held back from telling Laura she didn’t look great either. When she’d taken the lead off the dog, her hands had been shaking. And her pupils were unusually large and bright.
‘No, nothing new,’ Evi said. ‘I rely on painkillers most of the time. A skiing injury some years ago. Sometimes they take a while to kick in. So, what’s worrying you?’
Laura tapped the first finger of her left hand with the first on her right. She had a list. ‘First of all what you told me last night,’ she said. ‘About all the weird stuff that’s been happening to you. Seems to me there are two possibilities. The first is that you’re nuts.’
Evi didn’t like the small stab of something that felt a bit like guilt and a whole lot more like vindication that poked her in the stomach. ‘That term’s considered a bit old-fashioned in professional circles these days,’ she said, trying for a relaxed smile and knowing she just looked prim.
‘I think you have issues,’ said Laura, ‘which is probably not a technical term either. I think you’re edgy and jumpy and I think you’re verging on a serious depression, which could be a result of living with too much pain, but I don’t think you’re nuts.’
Not sure whether to be annoyed or amused, Evi looked the other woman full in the face. Laura held eye contact but her hands were still unsteady. And her breathing seemed accelerated, as though she’d run to get here. ‘Well, that’s good to know,’ said Evi. ‘So the other possibility?’
‘Is that you have a real and extremely sophisticated stalker,’ said Laura. ‘Someone with exceptional IT skills, for one thing. I did some research before I went to bed last night. That thing I talked about, loading up an email so that it disappeared completely when you activated it. It’s possible but it’s not easy. The chances are someone’s broken in here and used a USB stick to boot your machine and install the malware directly. They could have set any number of booby traps we have no way of knowing about without getting the machine checked out. For the time being, I’m afraid, you really can’t trust your computer.’
‘Who would do that?’ said Evi.
‘No idea. But it seems safe to say whoever it is has found out a great deal about you. Do you keep a diary or journal on the computer?’
‘Nothing like that,’ said Evi. ‘Yet that’s the really disturbing thing. It’s like they’ve been inside my head.’
‘Twisted people can be clever,’ said Laura. ‘And devious in ways we normal types don’t think of. That’s how they keep us guessing. But if you think about it, it’s obvious what’s happened.’
‘It is?’
‘That business in Lancashire last year was in lots of papers,’ said Laura. ‘It was even on the national news. I Googled you last night and found loads of stuff. The little girls and weird rituals and that patient of yours who died in a bath of blood. I reckon someone has found all this stuff exactly how I did and now they’re using it to mess with your head.’
Evi sat back in her chair to think about it. A hot stream of pain shot up her left leg but for once she hardly noticed it. What Laura was saying made sense. She should have thought of it herself. It would almost make her feel better to know there was an explanation. Except …
‘Why?’ she said. ‘Why would anyone do that?’
‘Well, it could be a revenge thing,’ said Laura. ‘From what I can gather you were instrumental in uncovering what was going on up there. It could be someone you pissed off getting their own back. But I don’t think so.’
‘What do you think?’
‘I think it’s connected to what’s going on here. Sorry to be rude, but do you mind if I make a cup of t
ea?’
‘Of course,’ said Evi. ‘Do you need me to …’
‘I’ll be fine,’ replied Laura, already on her way out of the room. ‘I can instinctively find my way round a kitchen. Which is interesting in its way, because I’m a lousy cook.’
Evi watched Laura stumble in the doorway, her hand shooting up to the doorframe for balance. Then she’d gone. The dog at Evi’s feet stood and looked towards the hall. Then it approached Evi and looked her directly in the eyes. The tip of its right ear was missing.
‘Hi,’ mouthed Evi. The dog stepped forward and laid its head on Evi’s lap, not for a second taking its round brown eyes from hers. As Evi reached out and ran her hand gently along its nose and over its brow, it gave a heavy and contented sigh. Its fur was smooth and warm, its ears like velvet.
Evi’s hand had returned to her lap. The dog raised its head and lifted one front paw. It nudged her, tapping lightly on the side of her leg. Evi began stroking and scratching its ears again, until Laura came back with two steaming mugs of tea. Her hands were still shaking.
Not wanting to risk scalding it with hot tea, Evi gave the dog a gentle shove away. It went back to the patch of sunshine and lay down, not once taking its eyes off her. Evi turned to Laura, who was clutching her mug as though it couldn’t cool down quickly enough.
‘Right, first of all, tell me what’s wrong with you,’ said Evi. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d taken something.’
Laura shook her head. ‘I had a bad night too,’ she said. ‘I might be coming down with a bug. Or I could have eaten something last night that didn’t really agree with me. Lord knows I’m more used to burgers and Chinese takeaways than game casserole.’
‘Do you need anything?’ said Evi. ‘Paracetamol?’
‘Had the maximum dose an hour ago, thanks,’ said Laura. She risked sipping from the mug and tears sprang into her eyes. ‘So, your stalker is really bothering me,’ she went on. ‘You’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest here. You’ve got the university authorities and the police twitchy about sinister goings-on and suddenly someone is trying to scare you and undermine your professional credibility at the same time. I think someone’s trying to warn you off.’
‘Warn me off what? Laura, what we have here, if anything, is some sort of dangerous but completely intangible culture of encouraging and feeding upon …’
‘No, I really don’t think so,’ said Laura, as the dog sighed heavily and rolled over on to its back.
‘You don’t?’
‘That’s the second thing that’s worrying me,’ said Laura. ‘This theory you have. You know, the subversive online subculture business? I haven’t been able to find any of it. And I’ve been looking hard. I’ve been on every Cambridge-based site there is, weeping and wailing and gnashing my teeth, pretending to be depressed and anxious and suicidal. All I’ve had back is sympathy. The online community around here is actually pretty supportive.’
Evi waited. She hadn’t the heart to argue and, besides, Laura was only coming to the same conclusion she had herself.
‘So, my inclination at the moment is to say that if these suicides are linked in some way, it’s not necessarily the case that they’re being goaded into it by some sort of suicidal group-think.’
Evi felt her eyebrows lifting.
‘I’ve spent a week attending psychology lectures,’ Laura said. ‘The odd technical term was going to rub off.’
Fair point. Group-think referred to the phenomenon of people being induced, through the influence of those around them, into behaviour that they wouldn’t normally contemplate. ‘So, I’m wrong,’ Evi said. ‘I always knew that was a possibility. I’m still grateful to you for looking into it.’
‘Oh, I’m not done yet,’ said Laura. ‘I think what we’ve got here could be much worse.’
Outside, a squirrel ran across the lawn, stopping to examine some fallen beech leaves. The dog jumped to its feet and trotted over to the window.
‘Worse than goading people into taking their own lives?’ said Evi.
Laura had been watching the squirrel too. She glanced back. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘These chat rooms and websites all operate at a distance. That’s why it’s always so difficult to prove any sort of crime has taken place. The victims and the perpetrators never meet. There’s no hard physical evidence.’
Evi waited.
‘Here, though, there’s a lot of physical stuff going on. Your stalker, for one.’
‘Which could be completely unconnected,’ said Evi.
‘Yep, could be coincidence. Then there are the rapes you told me about. Five of them.’
‘By person or persons unknown, with absolutely no proof in any case and just five over five years,’ Evi reminded her.
‘Then you have the disappearances,’ said Laura.
‘The what?’
‘Nicole Holt disappeared for several days shortly before her death. I spoke to friends at her college. She came back seriously under the influence of something, claiming to have no recollection of where she’d been or what had happened to her. Her bozo college friends didn’t get her checked out so we have no proof. But now another student’s disappeared. Did you know that?’
At the window, the dog was whining at the squirrel. The hackles on the back of its neck were erect. Evi shook her head.
‘Jessica someone. A few of the websites refer to it. And Facebook. Her friends are getting worried. And Nicole wasn’t alone when she died. I examined the scene. A bit more thoroughly than the local CID did because I found tyre tracks that couldn’t have been Nicole’s. I think there was another car there.’
Evi put her mug down on the table. ‘Laura, you’re going too fast. Jessica who?’
‘Sorry, they didn’t mention a second name. Why?’
Evi thought for a moment then shook her head. ‘Probably nothing,’ she said. ‘Anything else?’
‘Five years ago a woman tried to hang herself and was filmed in the process. The footage ended up on YouTube with nearly a million hits before it was taken off. This stuff isn’t happening by itself, Evi. Someone is orchestrating it.’
FOR SEVERAL SECONDS Evi didn’t speak. An expression crossed her face that made me think she was going to ask me to leave, to say that it was all too much for her to deal with. God knows I had been a bit full on. But four days in this place and I knew I couldn’t be a disinterested observer any more.
The scream had done it, I realized, the scream I’d heard up at Nick’s farm. It didn’t matter if it had been a hunting barn owl or a fox disembowelling a rabbit, it had sounded enough like a scream to drive home to me that women in this city were afraid. Something had scared Danielle, Nicole and Bryony, something was scaring Evi, and women who got scared in Cambridge had a habit of ending up dead.
And then, right before my eyes, I saw the fragile, nervous Evi Oliver come to exactly the same conclusion. She pursed her lips, widened her eyes and leaned towards me.
‘What do we do?’ she said.
No time for the sigh of relief. ‘I’m glad you asked,’ I said. ‘Because, first, we have to stop working blind. I need to know who the victims were. I need names.’
As I’d expected, she shook her head. ‘Laura, that’s confidential information,’ she began. ‘I can’t …’
I wasn’t letting her get a head of steam. ‘I need names, ages, colleges, courses, hobbies and interests,’ I went on. ‘I need to know what they looked like. Who their friends were. What medication they were on, who their GP was. Once I can get my SO interested, I can probably get it all inputted into the police major incident inquiry system. It will spot connections, links between the victims, in seconds. Far faster than we can. In the meantime, we’ll have to do our best.’
A deep line had formed between Evi’s eyebrows.
‘Isn’t there a rule that says that if you suspect people are at risk, that if they may harm themselves or others, you’re not just allowed to break confidentiality, you’re expected to?’ Anticipating
Evi’s response, I’d done a bit of Googling myself that morning.
She didn’t reply and I knew I’d struck a chord.
‘Most of the people I’m interested in are dead,’ I said. ‘I know confidentiality doesn’t disappear but it will be a mitigating circumstance.’
Evi looked seriously troubled. The dog sidled up to her and glared at me. At that moment, a beeping on my phone told me I had a text message. I excused myself and stepped into the hall. It was from Joesbury.
I’ll be in London for a couple of days. Call me if it’s urgent, otherwise no electronic communication. I’ll manage without Book at Bedtime for a night or two. Very important you do not phone or email Evi Oliver and keep contact to a minimum. Her computer files may have been compromised. In fact, do not phone, text or email anyone on official business. Wait for me to be in touch.
I closed the text. Well, I hadn’t phoned or emailed Evi and I’d already guessed her computer had been compromised. As for keeping contact to a minimum, it was a bit late for that. Given the breakthrough I’d just made with her, I wasn’t going anywhere. I put my phone away and went back into the sitting room. Evi didn’t appear to have moved.
‘Nineteen students are dead,’ I said. ‘I’m a police officer, conducting an official inquiry. And you have a responsibility to those who may be next in line to tell me what you know.’
Silence for a moment. I gave her time. Then,
‘Tell me again what you need,’ she said.
AN HOUR LATER, Evi’s study resembled a police incident room. On one daffodil-yellow wall Laura had stuck endless pieces of paper, names of students written in thick felt pen, typewritten notes showing names of colleges, courses, ages, psychiatric history, photographs drawn from newspapers, student records and even Facebook. Any newspaper coverage they’d found of the suicides had been included. For the first time, it brought home to Evi the full scale of the problem.
Staring down at her were twenty-nine Cambridge students who’d attempted to take their own lives in the last five years. Most had succeeded. Only ten of them, starting with Danielle Brown five years earlier down to Bryony Carter just a few weeks ago, were still alive. Five of the women on the list had suspected they were being raped, several had reported bad dreams of a sexual nature.
