Web of Darkness

by Bali Rai

  ‘Did she say why?’

  I shook my head. ‘Not to me – we’re not exactly best mates or anything. But she did tell people she had a modelling contract.’

  DC Evans gave her boss a quick look, and he jotted something in his notebook.

  ‘You said not you,’ Evans continued. ‘Who did she tell?’

  ‘A few people. Danny Sangha, some others . . .’

  ‘Lily – you need to be sure,’ said DI Meadows.

  ‘She told Kane Williams and Danny,’ I replied. ‘I don’t know who else.’

  Meadows gave DC Evans a little nod, so quick I nearly missed it. She glanced at her notes and took over again.

  ‘Did you see her after school?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘After school?’ I asked. ‘I was in the library, then I went home. No, actually, I went to Kane’s house.’

  ‘Which was it?’ she asked, arching her eyebrows.

  ‘Kane’s first, then home.’

  ‘Why did you go to Kane’s house?’

  My mum cleared her throat. ‘Why is that important?’ she asked the officers. ‘Teenagers do that all the time.’

  ‘We just need a clear timeline,’ DI Meadows told her.

  ‘Lily?’ asked DC Evans.

  ‘I was upset,’ I admitted. ‘I’d fallen out with my best friend, Tilly, and Kane was there for me . . .’

  ‘Tilly Anderson?’ asked Evans, looking at her notes again.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why did you fall out?’

  I paused to think. ‘She’s got a new man,’ I said. ‘I haven’t seen her much and we had an argument about it.’

  ‘You were upset that she’s spending time with someone else?’

  I saw what Evans was doing and shook my head. ‘No – I’m happy for her,’ I replied. ‘We just had a girl-argument. It was nothing serious.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I was on the phone to her this evening, when Mum came home. Ask her.’

  My mum nodded, but didn’t speak.

  ‘So,’ said the WPC, ‘you saw Molly once but didn’t speak to her – is that correct?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you didn’t see her after school?’

  ‘Well, yeah, I saw her,’ I replied.

  When Meadows’s face lit up, I explained myself quickly. ‘Everyone sees everyone else,’ I said. ‘Like, after school?’

  ‘Who was she with – after school?’ asked DC Evans. ‘Now that you’ve remembered seeing her.’

  ‘A lad called Lakh Singh. I don’t know him well.’

  ‘And where were they going?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  The officers exchanged another look, then DI Meadows wrote down a load more notes, his ballpoint noisy against the pad – like he was pressing too hard. ‘You saw Lakh Singh and Molly Cooper walk away from school?’ Evans said. ‘Together?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Which way did they go?’

  ‘Back towards the A6 – maybe towards the town centre?’

  DC Evans nodded. ‘Anything else – about Molly and what might have happened yesterday?’

  I shook my head. The two officers left the room briefly – just long enough for Mum to pat my arm.

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ she told me.

  ‘If they believe me,’ I replied. ‘They haven’t even mentioned Facebook yet.’

  DC Evans re-entered alone. ‘DI Meadows sends his apologies,’ she told us. ‘He’s been called away urgently.’

  ‘Nothing serious, I hope,’ said Dave, a concerned look on his face.

  ‘No, Mr Thomas,’ said Evans. ‘It’s not that. Shall we continue? I’d like for you all to get home as soon as possible.’

  The three of us nodded.

  ‘So,’ said DC Evans, retaking her seat. ‘Tell me about the Facebook posts, Lily.’

  I looked away, my cheeks burning. Whatever I said, I had to make her believe me. I thought of Kane and the photo he’d taken.

  ‘It wasn’t me,’ I replied. ‘I didn’t post those.’

  Evans made a few more notes before speaking again. ‘The posts came from your account,’ she told me. ‘You tagged over a hundred fellow pupils. Why should I believe you didn’t post them?’

  I paused again, gathered my thoughts, and cleared my throat. ‘I’ve been hacked,’ I replied.

  ‘Hacked?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘Go on . . .’

  I looked at Mum, who nodded.

  ‘Tell the officer what you told us,’ added Dave, looking at his watch. ‘Oh – I need to go too.’

  Mum looked disappointed.

  ‘I said I’d speak to Dr Woods,’ he told us. ‘She wants to know what’s going on. There’s a meeting of senior staff and governors this evening. I can’t miss it.’

  ‘But how will you get back?’ asked Mum.

  ‘Don’t worry about me, Laila,’ he said. ‘I’ll get a cab.’

  I was gutted that Dave had to go – he was on my side and I needed him. I just hoped that Mum was as convinced by my innocence. She seemed to be. Once Dave had gone, DC Evans repeated her question.

  I took a deep breath. ‘I made friends with a lad called Benedict Pablo,’ I said. ‘He claimed to be from New York.’

  ‘This is on Facebook?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Why claimed?’ she asked. ‘You said he claimed to be from New York.’

  ‘That’s what he told me,’ I replied. ‘We chatted online for a while – like, a few weeks, but then he got weird. He wanted me to send him photographs.’

  ‘What kind of photographs?’

  ‘Rude ones, I think – like selfies?’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘I sent him one,’ I admitted. ‘Nothing slutty – just a pic of myself, lying on my bed, I had my clothes on.’

  I watched Mum’s face grow stony again, and knew she’d go mental when we left. It still felt good, though – getting it off my chest.

  ‘Carry on,’ said DC Evans, scribbling in her notebook and not looking up.

  ‘He liked the photo, but he wanted more, and I started to get annoyed. Then, after Max died, he sent me a nude picture.’

  ‘Of whom?’ Evans asked.

  ‘Himself,’ I replied. ‘Of his . . . er . . . lower half.’

  Mum looked frightened now – she put her hand on mine. Her show of support made me feel safer. ‘Lily?’ she said, her eyes searching my face.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ I replied. ‘I was going to tell you.’

  DC Evans looked up. ‘Let me get this straight,’ she said. ‘The photograph he sent was of his own genitalia?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I felt Mum squeeze my hand gently.

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I didn’t do anything,’ I replied. ‘I left him to it.’

  ‘You didn’t reply or send any of your own?’

  ‘No!’ I insisted. ‘I’m not like that.’

  ‘Not like Molly?’ said Evans.

  ‘I don’t mean that!’ I protested.

  ‘You made two posts about Molly on Facebook,’ said Evans. ‘They seemed like that’s what you meant.’

  ‘I didn’t post those, I told you.’

  ‘Not even the second one?’

  ‘No!’

  DC Evans wrote down a few more lines. I looked at Mum, and saw a tear welling in her right eye. She squeezed my hand again.

  ‘So who made the posts?’ Evans asked.

  ‘Benedict, I think . . .’

  ‘This boy from New York?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because he sent me a webcam – only it was posted in Leicester . . .’

  ‘A webcam?’ she said.

  I nodded.

  ‘He’s also the same person that Max Jones was interacting with . . . the woman?’

  ‘Charlotte?’ said DC Evans, her eyes suddenl
y more alert.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How can you possibly know this?’

  I cleared my throat again. ‘Because I caught him out,’ I replied. ‘Charlotte and Benedict are the same person – a hacker. And this hacker is connected to me, to Max, to Molly. He’s connected to Amy Wiggins too – I’m sure of it.’

  The officer’s face went so red that I thought she might pass out. She sat back in her chair, exhaled deeply and shook her head.

  ‘You need to find Kane,’ I added. ‘He was with me – he has proof that it wasn’t me who made those horrible posts. He took a photograph at the same time that we saw the post. It’s time-coded. You can check it and see that I’m telling the truth.’

  ‘Kane Williams?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I need to make a call,’ she told us. ‘I’ll have the desk sergeant bring you refreshments.’

  ‘Can’t we leave?’ asked Mum. ‘I want to take my daughter home. She’s been through a lot, Officer.’

  Evans shrugged. ‘You’re free to leave anytime,’ she said. ‘But I’d rather you stayed. What’s happened here is unexpected and I need to speak to my boss. I think we’re going to be here for a while . . .’

  ‘Do we need a solicitor?’ asked Mum.

  ‘That’s up to you, Mrs Basra.’

  ‘You know already, don’t you?’ I said to DC Evans.

  ‘Know what, Lily?’

  ‘About the link,’ I said. ‘That’s why you’re still investigating Max’s death, isn’t it.’ I was guessing.

  ‘I can’t comment on that,’ she replied.

  Something changed in her eyes, though – and I realized my guess had been correct.

  The Spider answers immediately.

  ‘I’ve just had a very interesting conversation,’ the OTHER tells him.

  ‘About?’

  ‘The friend – Lily?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘She’s been talking to the police.’

  ‘Oh . . .’

  ‘This isn’t my fault,’ the OTHER insists. ‘Not this time.’

  The Spider listens to his accomplice whine and shakes his head. No, he thinks, it is my fault. I should cut and run. Go back into my lair and wait for the next opportunity.

  Yet something irks him. The girl – Lily – is not hurting sufficiently. She does not feel his presence keenly enough. No one has ever fought against him like this – and he will not accept it. He has a few days to change the situation. And change it he will . . .

  He replies carefully. ‘Your task is clear,’ he tells the OTHER.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You need to tie up your loose end.’

  ‘If that’s what you want.’

  ‘Arrange it for this coming weekend,’ the Spider tells him.

  ‘Are you sure?’ the OTHER asks. ‘I think we should wait – so soon after Molly . . .’

  The Spider sighs. ‘Thinking is my domain,’ he replies. ‘Let me worry about the trails. You remove the girl.’

  ‘And bring her to you?’

  ‘No – there is another location. I will send you the details.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Tell me the moment your task is complete . . .’

  ‘What about the videos? My buyers are—’

  ‘I don’t care about your paedophile friends!’ the Spider hisses. ‘We must protect ourselves first. The videos can wait.’

  ‘But you said they would be wiped—’

  ‘From your laptop – yes. I have other, more secret places to store them. When this is over, I will let you have them.’

  ‘They are offering a great deal of money.’

  ‘Then consider what you will buy with your share,’ the Spider replies.

  ‘Have you finished with my computer?’

  ‘Yes – I will bring it with me when you have the girl.’

  ‘I need it sooner – can we meet?’

  ‘No,’ the Spider tells him. ‘The risks are too great.’

  ‘OK.’

  Later, the Spider unpacks another new phone. He inserts the sim card and, when ready, enters just a single number. In the corner of the room, he sees the tan leather tote bag. He smiles, before running through his plan once more. He must cover every angle – tie every knot securely. When this web falls, no one must be allowed to see which shadow he crawls into . . .

  32

  Dr Woods’s office was huge, with windows on two sides and a view across the rear of the school, out into open countryside. One wall was lined with shelves that groaned under the weight of hundreds of books. The wall behind her had framed photographs and certificates mounted on it. In the biggest, she was standing with the Prime Minster – both of them grinning like old friends. The room was divided between an office area and a small seated section, complete with sink, coffee machine, kettle and fridge. Mum and I sat on a boxy black sofa, waiting.

  We’d left the police station at two in the morning, and I was tired enough to fall asleep right where I was. DC Evans had called DI Meadows, and on his return, I’d given a formal statement about everything I knew.

  I’d told them about Kane and Alfie, and the infected video link that Amy had sent so many months earlier. Dave had come back around ten p.m., after we’d been allowed a break to eat. Then two police officers had taken Mum to ours, and they’d returned with my computer as evidence. Kane had sent me a text around the same time, to say that the police were at his house. He told me not to worry and that he was happier now that DC Evans knew what we did.

  Now, first thing on a Thursday, I was thinking about Kane when Dr Woods, Mr Dhindsa and Mr Warren entered the office. Each wore a grave expression, but only Mr Warren asked how I was.

  ‘Not great,’ I said honestly.

  ‘We’ll get to the bottom of this,’ he replied. ‘Don’t you worry, Lily.’

  My principal sat opposite us, and the other two stood at the small worktop that housed the sink.

  ‘Can I get anyone coffee or tea?’ asked Dr Woods. She wore a narrow black skirt, a light blue blouse and sensible flat shoes. Her skin had a grey tinge.

  Mum shook her head. ‘Can we just get on?’ she asked politely.

  Dr Woods nodded. ‘There is very little room for manoeuvre,’ she explained. ‘Until this investigation is complete, I’m afraid Lily cannot attend school.’

  ‘So you’re excluding her?’ said Mum, as my heart sank.

  ‘Not permanently,’ said Mr Dhindsa. ‘You could call it a temporary leave of absence.’

  ‘Obviously, she would be excluded permanently, if proven guilty of bullying,’ Dr Woods added. ‘I’ve adopted a zero-tolerance policy since Amy Wiggins’s unfortunate case.’

  ‘And what about her GCSEs?’ asked Mum. ‘Say she is innocent, and I have no doubt at all – what then?’

  I glanced at her and thought that I might cry. Her support meant everything to me.

  Mr Dhindsa, his eyes like chocolate beads, reassured my mum. ‘I’ve thought about that,’ he explained. ‘Regardless of what happens from this point, we mustn’t let Lily’s education suffer. If that’s possible . . .’

  ‘I see,’ said Mum.

  ‘So I’ve delegated Mr Warren here to collect all the work she needs and to present it to you each week. It’s not long until Year Eleven start exam leave anyway. So the disruption should be minimal.’

  Mr Warren nodded and gave us a warm smile. ‘It will be my pleasure,’ he said.

  Dr Woods coughed. ‘However,’ she said, ‘until this matter is resolved, Lily must have no contact with the school – is that clear?’

  ‘Not even her friends?’ Mum asked.

  I felt my heart sink further.

  ‘Outside of school, fine,’ said Dr Woods. ‘We cannot control that. But during school hours, she must not enter, nor attempt to gain entry to the premises for any reason . . .’

  I wanted to shout like I would, but I had enough grief already, without being childish too. Even my GCSEs were beginning to feel trivial compared to
what was happening.

  ‘Furthermore,’ said the principal, ‘we feel it important that Lily not talk to the media about this case. I’m sure the police have already voiced similar hopes.’

  Mum nodded. ‘They have,’ she reiterated. ‘But then you’ve spoken to them, so you already know that.’ The tension between her and Dr Woods lay thick in the room.

  ‘Yes, we have,’ Mr Dhindsa interjected. ‘But reporters can be very insistent . . .’

  ‘And you wouldn’t want your school’s hard-won reputation tarnished,’ said Mum; although I think her reply was rhetorical and sarcastic.

  ‘We’ve seen what negative public opinion can do to schools in this city,’ replied Dr Woods. ‘You, of all people, know that.’

  ‘Well,’ said Mum, ‘two deaths in just over a month can damage any school. Although that loss of reputation means nothing against the tragedy of the pupils who have died . . .’

  Dr Woods looked taken aback. ‘That’s true,’ she said unconvincingly.

  ‘The exclusion is effective immediately, I take it?’ asked Mum.

  ‘I’m afraid so, Mrs Basra,’ said Mr Dhindsa.

  ‘Well, in that case,’ said Mum, standing up, ‘we’ll be going.’

  None of the other three adults moved.

  ‘I’ll make sure her homework arrives promptly,’ Mr Warren said. ‘I have your number, Mrs Basra.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  Mum dropped me back at home, then had to go to work. But only after apologizing for having to leave me alone, and warning me not to open the door to anyone. I could see that she was having trouble hiding her guilt, but I made things easier for her by promising to be careful, and showing her my phone. The police were just a quick call away, and the neighbours even closer. Finally, she nodded and gave me a hug before leaving.

  The house felt weird – like a prison. I couldn’t settle – moving from one room to the next, aimlessly. I was worried about being alone in the house, but I didn’t have a choice. Mum’s meeting couldn’t be cancelled, and besides, she couldn’t baby-sit me twenty-four hours a day, could she?

  I tried to revise but there was no point. I couldn’t even look at the words, never mind understand and take them in. In the end, I opted for daytime TV and cooking shows. They were OK, but my concentration ebbed quickly. I started thinking about Kane and Tilly, and the look in DC Evans’s eyes when I’d mentioned Max. Wondering whether to update Kane on my exclusion, I checked my phone. I had a few abusive messages on What’s App, plus several texts and an email from some company, telling me my account had been suspended. I deleted it, and another email popped up instantly. This one was from a cosmetic surgery clinic in London. It was confirming my consultation appointment. I was interested in breast enhancement, apparently.