Bloodstream

by Luca Veste

  ‘That’s just the way it is. Let me get past. I might have missed something.’

  ‘You’re just going to go back to watching the shit them out there produce?’

  Karen slid past Neil, taking up her familiar position on the sofa opposite the television. She picked up the remote and turned up the volume, drowning out the voices from outside.

  ‘We can’t go on like this, Karen. You need to speak to me. We need to talk about all this. I’m hurting too, love. I’m really fucking struggling here.’

  Karen continued to watch the news, turning up the volume a little more.

  So many things that needed sorting out, she thought. So little time.

  * * *

  There were fewer reporters camped outside Emily Flynn’s house, but they were there all the same. Waiting to ask her a multitude of questions every time she tried to leave the house.

  Since the video had been released, showing Hannah confessing to Greg of her transgression, the questions had been different.

  Now, they were all geared towards Hannah’s infidelity, the choices she had made and how she’d lived her life following them. They didn’t know how good a mother she was day to day; they were judging her on that single decision.

  Emily didn’t understand how anyone could do that, ignoring the fact that she might have made similar judgements if she’d had no connection to Hannah.

  She had the news channels on constantly, waiting for a mere mention of Hannah, but any time the story appeared, it was behind the cloak of celebrity. ChloJoe and that circus. Hannah was a side story. Something which was connected, but only in passing. Since the video, she could be even further dismissed. A harlot, a bad mother, a slag. Words Emily knew were being used about her daughter in death.

  Flowers had arrived the day before from Chloe Morrison’s mother. They were currently filling an overflowing bin in her kitchen. She didn’t want anything from her. Didn’t want her daughter to be connected to someone like that.

  She didn’t want to leave the house any more. Didn’t want anyone visiting either. She wanted to wallow, wait the whole thing out and hope for the day to end. To wake up the next day and for everything to be normal again. Yet, she found herself preparing to go out in front of those cameras to appeal for help. To find the man who had destroyed her family. To get justice. To get closure.

  Emily knew it wasn’t going to be enough. Nothing would ever be the same, no matter what happened next. Never again. Her life, Hannah’s life, Greg’s life, everyone connected to them. They would all be defined by this. She would be forever known as the mother of the murdered woman. The mother of the woman who got pregnant by another man and never told her partner. The mother of the woman who had to reveal that secret to her partner and then be killed for it.

  There was no normal now.

  There was only Emily, her other children and a little girl called Millie, who didn’t understand that her parents were never coming home.

  That was all that was left.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The email was short, but to the point. Addressed to no one in particular, which was a blessing of sorts.

  No one wanted to be in his sights.

  Dear Merseyside Police from ME,

  I’m sure you’ll be getting a lot of messages from people who say they’re me, HOAX emails and messages, that sort of thing. I’m sure there are very few people who you told about my last message, so here is the password again.

  Loveisviolence

  Now you know it’s me. I am the so-called MAN IN BLACK. I am the man people are SCARED of. They SHOULD be. I don’t care who you are, I am coming for you. I am going to HELP you all. I am the man who is fixing it all. I am LOVE. I am VIOLENCE.

  There are so many LIES out there. Everyone seems to have them. I have watched you all, keeping SECRETS and lying to your partners. It must stop now.

  I am not done. I am only just starting. There are SO MANY people who need my help. Judging by the amount of emails I got I think everyone is behind ME. Even if they don’t know it yet. They are all talking about ME and what I can do for them.

  EVERYONE will learn to LOVE again. The RIGHT way. No LIES, no SECRETS.

  I CAN’T STOP NOW. DON’T TRY TO STOP ME. I’M DOING THE BEST FOR EVERYONE. YOU WILL ALL LEARN THIS.

  I WILL DO IT AGAIN, TO MAKE THINGS BETTER. TO STOP THE LIES, THE SECRETS. NO ONE SHOULD LOVE LIKE THIS. I’M MAKING IT ALL BETTER.

  ME

  P.S. – You won’t find WILL and CARLY on the emails. I deleted it, along with some others, so you wouldn’t know they had been chosen.

  ASK ADAM EVANS. HE KNOWS WHY IT HAD TO BE THEM

  Murphy stopped reading and waited for Rossi to finish. He read the last few lines again, shuddering at the block capitals on the page and the sentiment behind them.

  ‘This guy is on the way down,’ Rossi said, placing the paper carefully on her desk, as if it were the only copy. ‘He’s struggling.’

  ‘You think so?’ Murphy said, screwing his copy into a ball and missing the bin as he threw it. ‘There doesn’t seem to be any struggle there at all. It’s like he’s getting stronger. He’s enjoying himself.’

  ‘I don’t think so. He’s becoming more desperate for attention . . . no, not attention. Gratitude. He wants to be thought of as doing something good. That what he’s doing is somehow right.’

  ‘You know,’ Murphy said with a growing smirk. ‘We could both be right here.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Think about it. He could be getting stronger in one way, in that his convictions are clearer, he knows what he wants to do. He wants to “fix” as many people as possible, those he thinks are deserving of his particular brand of justice—’

  ‘Alongside that though,’ Rossi said, taking over from Murphy’s thought, ‘he’s also becoming weaker, as he is also killing what he thinks of as the innocent party as well. This is the fourth time he’s killed someone who perhaps hasn’t done anything wrong in his eyes.’

  ‘The other part of the couple.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘So, he has to carry on,’ Murphy said, spying DC Harris out of the corner of his eye, listening to their conversation. ‘Because he doesn’t know any other way to justify his actions other than to keep going. He is struggling to keep a lid on how strong he is becoming.’

  ‘He’s going to make a mistake. Or he already has.’

  Murphy leaned back in his chair. ‘And that’s our job now. Find his mistake.’

  DC Harris loudly cleared his throat. Murphy turned his head towards him. ‘Bit dramatic that, Graham?’

  ‘Wasn’t sure you were both finished with your psychology session.’

  Rossi grabbed the ball of paper Murphy had thrown at the bin off the floor and launched it at DC Harris’s head.

  ‘Shit,’ Harris said, rubbing the side of his head. ‘You’ve got some arm on you.’

  ‘Don’t take the piss out of Italian women. Or Scouse ones while you’re at it.’

  DC Harris shook his head and wheeled himself round to Murphy and Rossi’s bank of desks. ‘I just thought you’d like to know about something mentioned in the email, that’s all.’

  ‘Go on, Graham. We’re listening.’

  ‘I know who Adam Evans is.’

  * * *

  It was one of the things about Speke that Murphy was pleased to see whenever he returned: the new business park and retail centre, built adjacent to the airport. What was once a run-down area had been regenerated over a decade into something that looked half-decent, and the hotels dotted around the place helped to bring in more people.

  All the buildings on the business park looked the same, so it took a few minutes – and a map – to find the correct place. The guy on reception gave them the floor details, once he’d made himself feel important by inspecting their warrant cards. He picked up his mobile phone as soon as they had moved away, tapping away at the screen, every now and again looking up and catching Murphy’s eye.
/>   ‘Probably already texting people upstairs,’ Murphy said, as they waited for the lift to arrive. ‘I imagine we’re about to get a welcoming party.’

  It seemed as if there was a call centre on every floor. He imagined most of the cold calls and the multitude of spam email he received came from a place like this.

  The lift doors opened up onto an almost identical reception area to the one in the lobby of the building. The name of the company Adam Evans worked for was emblazoned across glass behind a high-fronted desk.

  ‘Can I help you?’ the sharp-suited young man behind the desk said, all teeth and cheekbones, while his slicked-over hair was thrust into a parting he’d probably battled his mum not to have as a child. How fashion changes, Murphy thought.

  ‘We’re here to speak to Adam Evans,’ Rossi said, moving in front of Murphy and DC Kirkham.

  ‘Do you have an appointment?’

  Murphy was already annoyed. He held up his warrant card. ‘Do we need one? He’s a call centre worker not the bloody director of the whole bank. Tell him to get out here, or we’ll make him look a right dick in front of his co-workers by going in and getting him ourselves.’

  The guy lost his smile, his cheekbones fading alongside it. His hands began to shake as he picked up the phone and spoke into it.

  A minute later, Adam Evans walked out of the office. He was a three-stone-heavier version of reception guy, but much more scared.

  ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Laura Rossi, this is Detective Inspector Murphy and Detective Constable Kirkham. If you’d like to come with us, Adam we just want to have a little chat.’

  ‘Erm . . . what’s this about?’

  ‘We can talk about that in private, Adam, if you’ll just come with us.’

  Adam’s eyes shifted left, then right. He started bouncing on the balls of his feet. ‘Do I have to? Don’t you have to arrest me or something?’

  ‘Do we need to arrest you?’ Murphy said, widening his stance.

  ‘No . . . I mean . . . I don’t know. Why do you need to speak to me?’

  Murphy took a step forward, standing next to Rossi and blocking Adam’s one path of escape. ‘Would you prefer to talk about this here, Adam? Would that be more comfortable?’

  Adam’s forehead creased in confusion, making him look as if he were squinting. ‘What, here?’ he said, pointing to the floor of the reception area.

  ‘Yeah,’ Murphy replied. ‘You don’t seem to want to come with us, so why don’t we do it right here. How about we start asking questions about Carly, where anyone could walk past and hear?’

  Adam turned a shade of white Murphy thought would look good on his landing walls. ‘I . . . I’ll come. I haven’t done anything, though.’

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ Murphy said, nodding to Kirkham who pressed the lift call button and stood off to the side. ‘Cheers, lad,’ Murphy said to the reception guy as he stepped into the lift with Rossi and an increasingly ashen-faced Adam. ‘DC Kirkham is going to stick around, speak to a few more people. And tell you what we need. I think it’s time you got your manager, don’t you?’

  The reception guy looked around, perplexed at the events that were unfolding.

  ‘I . . . What’s going on?’

  Murphy didn’t answer, but smiled as Kirkham radioed down to the uniforms waiting outside.

  * * *

  Murphy had chosen to take Adam Evans to interview room two. Not for any reason other than it was the coldest room out of the lot. The radiator on the wall needed bleeding, Murphy thought, but no one had done anything about it.

  ‘Do you understand the caution, Adam?’

  Adam Evans had shrunk since arriving at the station, the media scrum around their vehicle as they’d pulled up to the station having had a major effect on him. They had decided to arrest him on suspicion of perverting the course of justice, once they had arrived back at the station. Murphy was prepared to upgrade that within minutes.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ll ask again if you’re happy to proceed without a solicitor?’

  ‘It’s okay. I . . . I just want to tell the truth.’

  ‘Good,’ Murphy said, opening the murder file up and laying it flat on the desk. ‘So, we just want to ask a few questions, that’s all.’

  Murphy asked the standard opening questions. Easy ones, about Adam’s life and work. The answers coming quick and easy.

  Rossi then took over.

  ‘Can you tell us about your relationship with Carly Roberts?’

  Adam scratched at his arm, his eyes shifting. ‘We . . . erm . . . work together.’

  ‘How long have you known her for?’

  ‘About two, three years. We started at the same time.’

  ‘Were you friends?’

  ‘Yeah, kind of.’

  Rossi leaned forward, trying to catch Adam’s gaze. ‘Were you more than friends, Adam?’

  ‘It . . . it was complicated.’

  ‘Complicated how?’

  ‘We were close, at one point. But she has a boyfriend, so I backed off. Nothing more than that.’

  There were a few more questions to which Adam gave non-committal answers. Murphy broke in. ‘What do you know of the murders that have happened this week?’

  ‘Only what I’ve seen on the news.’

  ‘You’ve watched the news, read the papers, that sort of thing?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Adam replied, sinking into his chair. ‘Nothing much other than that.’

  ‘Did you read about the message which came from the so-called Man in Black, Adam?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t remember.’

  ‘Of course you do, Adam. Because you saw the email address, didn’t you?’

  Adam stayed silent. Murphy waited for an answer, but realised none was forthcoming. ‘You were more than close to Carly, weren’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You loved her, didn’t you?’

  Adam nodded, his lip began to tremble slightly. ‘We loved each other.’

  ‘But she rejected you, didn’t she?’

  ‘She had to,’ Adam replied, suddenly staring at Murphy with watery eyes. ‘Because of him.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘That boyfriend of hers. We were . . . seeing each other. For a while. We talked all the time, really became close. Closer than he ever was to her. I know her better than him, that’s for sure. He treats her like she’s nothing. I can be there for her. She just doesn’t realise that. We barely talk any more. I just can’t do it. Every time we start trying to be friends, it just ends in me getting my heart broken again when she doesn’t leave him.’

  ‘What about her boyfriend? What do you really know about him, other than what you were told by Carly?’

  ‘I know enough.’

  ‘Like what?’ Rossi said, turning over a new page in her notebook and continuing to write.

  ‘I followed him for a bit. To see what he did. What made him so special that she couldn’t leave him for me. I am the better option. I make sense. He doesn’t.’ Adam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘He cheats on her. I’ve seen him with these girls when he’s pretending to be working. He goes on work calls in his car, but makes them longer than they really are and visits these girls.’

  ‘How many other girls?’ Murphy said, beginning to realise the secret Will had been hiding.

  ‘I’ve seen three different ones in the past year.’

  ‘So, you’ve been following him for a while then?’

  Adam nodded. ‘I wanted something to happen to him, to show what he’s been doing to Carly. I could never tell her though. I didn’t want her to blame me for finding out.’

  Murphy rubbed his palms together, his fingers cold to the touch.

  ‘Am I in trouble for sending the email?’

  ‘What email, Adam?’

  A couple of tears dribbled down Adam’s cheek. ‘I didn’t mean to send it. I was just angry. I tried to take it back but I couldn’t. I’m sorry.’

  ‘What did y
our email say, Adam?’

  Adam lowered his head into his crossed arms on the table. ‘I didn’t want anything to happen to her. Either of them. Not really. I’m so sorry. I can say sorry to Carly, she’ll understand. I know she’s not in work today, is this why? It was just a stupid mistake.’

  ‘Did you get any response to your email, Adam?’ Murphy said.

  ‘No. I was reading that loads of people were emailing it, so I thought it was just some mad thing that no one would ever read. Did I break the law sending it or something? I’m really so sorry. I didn’t really mean it.’

  Murphy glanced at Rossi who slowly nodded her head at him.

  ‘Adam . . . Carly and Will were found dead this morning.’

  Chapter Thirty

  Murphy was surrounded by tired faces, tired minds. The week’s events were beginning to catch up on many of them. Not least himself. Every now and again, the face of Amy Maguire – still missing after all this time – would enter his mind, and shake him. He knew she wasn’t his daughter. Almost knew. There was something there, however, something that kept dragging his thoughts back to her.

  The chance to save her.

  Instead of which, he was listening to Rossi talk about her weekend plans. She was speaking directly to him, which made tuning her out more difficult.

  ‘So, I think everyone on his team will be there,’ Rossi said, her hands moving round in the air. ‘Which will be a bit weird. I bet he’ll bloody introduce me as his girlfriend or some such shit. I don’t know why I agreed to go. It starts at five, but I’ve told him I’ll be late if I’m there at all. What do you think?’

  ‘When is this again?’ Murphy replied, knowing the moving hands meant she was either excited or nervous. ‘Did you say?’

  ‘Yes, I did, when you obviously weren’t listening. Tomorrow night. Darren wants me to go for this meal with his workmates.’

  ‘The doctors?’

  ‘I don’t know, do I? Doctors, nurses, that sort of thing.’

  ‘What’s the problem again?’

  Rossi sighed and ran a hand through her hair. ‘With everything that’s going on . . . you know, I didn’t think it was a good idea.’