by Sally Rigby
Whitney and George followed Ellie to her desk and stood behind while she logged onto the site.
‘What do you want call yourself?’ Ellie asked.
‘Shall I go by George?’ she asked Whitney.
‘That would work. At least you won’t slip up when signing your name or something,’ Whitney said.
‘Do I need a surname?’
‘Most people put an initial or numbers. They don’t usually give their full name. Some of them have little sayings,’ Ellie said.
‘Just call me GeorgeW, then,’ she said.
‘As in George W Bush?’ Whitney said, laughing.
‘Not at all. I was using your last name initial, as we don’t want it to mean something. If someone sees GeorgeC, and it turns out to be a person we’d already interviewed, they might twig.’
‘Good idea. GeorgeW it is.’
‘I’ve got a better idea. What about george1207,’ George said.
‘Let me guess, your birthday is the twelfth of July,’ Whitney said. ‘That’s original.’
‘Now you know, I’ll be expecting a gift.’
‘Except that makes you more traceable. It’s 101 of what not to do,’ Ellie said.
‘I’m feeling old. Why don’t we know this?’ Whitney said.
‘You think of a name, Ellie,’ George suggested, as she was out of ideas.
‘How about livetoplayfootball?’
‘Seriously?’ She’d never have come up with that name in a thousand years.
‘Yes. It’s a typical user name.’
George was only in her thirties, yet all this was passing her by. She felt like an alien in her own world.
‘What else do you need to know?’ Whitney asked.
‘Where George lives and the area she wants to meet people.’
‘Put I’m from Lenchester and would like to meet girls within a ten-mile radius, or however you’d word it.’
‘I’ll put Lenchester and surrounding areas. Now we need your interests.’
‘Football, obviously. Music, seeing live bands. What else does an eighteen-year-old boy do?’
‘Gaming,’ Ellie said.
‘Shall we say I’m at college or in the sixth form at school?’ George asked.
‘Either would do,’ Ellie said.
‘Put school, then.’
‘You can add more about yourself and the person you want to meet.’
‘Say I’d like to meet a fun-loving girl who also likes intimate conversation,’ George said.
‘It sounds too adult,’ Ellie said.
‘Isn’t that the aim, in a roundabout way? We want to give ourselves away a little,’ she said.
‘But not too much. Remember, men who groom young girls have researched into it and know how to act,’ Whitney said.
‘What do you suggest, Ellie?’ George asked.
‘Let’s say you want to hang out online with a girl, to be friends,’ the young officer said.
‘Yes, much better. What else do we need?’ Whitney asked.
‘A photo of a young man around eighteen. Do you have one?’ Ellie asked.
George thought for a moment. The only photo she had was of her brother when he was eighteen, and that was years ago.
‘Not a recent one. Does that matter? Will people be able to tell?’
‘It depends on the clothes he’s wearing. Actually, we can use a stock photo,’ Ellie said.
‘Good idea, because even if the murderer recognises it as a stock photo, it will mean she’ll know she’s onto a predator,’ Whitney said.
‘Let’s find someone.’ Ellie opened up another window on her computer and called up a website full of images. ‘What about him?’ she said after a few seconds of scanning.
George and Whitney leaned in to look at the photo of a good-looking young boy with blond hair curled slightly around his ears. He had a cheeky smile and dimples.
‘He looks perfect,’ George said.
‘Agreed,’ Whitney said.
‘I’ll buy the image through my account,’ Ellie said.
‘How come you have an account for these photos?’ Whitney asked.
‘I do websites for people in my spare time,’ Ellie admitted, biting down on her bottom lip. ‘But please don’t say anything, I’m not sure if my contract allows me to do it.’
‘Your secret’s safe with us,’ Whitney reassured her.
Ellie uploaded a photo and made a few adjustments to the profile. ‘Okay, that’s it. You’re officially loaded.’
‘Now what?’ George had absolutely no idea about these sites. She’d never been on one or ever been tempted.
‘We can add more things to your profile, if you think it will help. A list of likes and dislikes, and answer some of the questions suggested,’ Ellie said.
‘Does everyone do that?’ she asked.
‘No. Some people just put their name, photo, and a few details.’
‘That will be best for now,’ Whitney said. ‘We can always answer some of the questionnaires down the track, if we find no one’s biting.’
‘We have to wait for your account to be approved. They’ll email the new address we’ve set up for you, and then we’ll confirm it. Once that happens, you’re free to interact on the site. Oh wait, here’s the confirmation email,’ Ellie said. ‘I’ll confirm and send it back now.’
‘Do I need access to the email?’ George asked.
‘Yes, to log into the site. Any private messages will be sent directly to your profile. You can carry on conversations, as they’re recorded. We might need them as evidence,’ Ellie said.
George marvelled at how proficient Ellie was. Whitney was always praising her, but it was good to actually see her in action.
‘Let’s hope we don’t have to wait too long for a bite.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
‘While we’re waiting for something to happen online, let me show you a copy of the latest letter sent to the radio station,’ Whitney said to George.
Following Whitney into her office, she saw the letter on the desk. She picked it up and examined it.
‘Hmmm. She’s not happy about being ignored. And once again we have the Shakespearean quote.’
‘What quote?’ Whitney grabbed the letter from her and stared at it. She was quiet for a moment while she read the letter. ‘Is it “action is eloquence”?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘I suppose you’re going to tell me which play it came from as well, aren’t you?’
‘Not if you’re going to poke fun at me.’
‘Come off it. You know you want to tell me.’
‘Okay, it’s from Coriolanus and spoken by Volumnia.’ George couldn’t help flashing a smug smile in Whitney’s direction.
‘I’ve never even heard of the play before.’
‘It’s one of his tragedies. The other being Anthony and Cleopatra. I…’ She paused.
‘What?’
‘I’ve had a thought. Let’s go back to the incident room.’
She half-walked, half-ran into the room, with Whitney following close behind. Stopping at the board, she stared at it intently.
‘Are you going to let me in on this thought of yours?’ Whitney said.
‘The connection between them all. It’s Shakespeare.’
‘Explain.’
‘Well, we already have the two Shakespeare references in the letters, King Lear and Coriolanus. And look at the names of the girls who arranged to meet our victims: Cleo, Bea, and Vi.’
‘Cleo, short for Cleopatra. That’s one. But Bea and Vi?’ Whitney asked.
‘Beatrice from Much Ado About Nothing.’
‘Vi is short for Violet.’
‘No. It’s Viola from Twelfth Night.’
‘Bloody hell. Our murderer uses fake names from Shakespeare’s plays, which means we’re looking for a Shakespeare buff who wants to rid the world of predators. More to the point, it makes it much easier for us to identify the girls who start chatting with you. We’ve just got to look for someo
ne with a name that fits.’
‘Not just any Shakespearean name. All three women used so far are strong and fearless. It’s got to be the name of one of his powerful female characters.’ She nodded her head, pleased to have made such an important connection. ‘It’s our final confirmation the murderer is a woman.’
‘But we still don’t know if she acts alone or has an accomplice. Strength is required to move the bodies.’
‘True. But not impossible for a woman to do. And once we apprehend her, if there’s an accomplice, they’ll be somewhere close, so we should be able to find them, too.’
‘Working out this connection is going to make our sting much easier to complete,’ Whitney said.
‘Agreed. We should go online to see if we’ve had any response to my profile.’
They headed over to Ellie’s desk. ‘Anything?’ Whitney asked.
‘Not yet. It’s the school holidays. Most girls will still be in bed this early in the morning.’
‘But we’re not after a teen girl,’ George reminded her.
‘If our murderer is pretending to be a teen girl, he or she will adopt the habits of one. It means getting up late when it’s not a school day. Not being able to speak during lesson time when she’s at school. Not being around in the evening during dinner time. All these things have to be taken into consideration,’ Ellie said.
‘It all makes sense. Now we’re in, can we look through the profiles of girls from around the area? We might be able to identify the murderer ourselves and then approach her,’ George said.
‘Yes, we can do that,’ Ellie said.
‘Why don’t I sit next to you and go through them myself while you’re getting on with your other work. Can you log me in from this computer?’ George pulled out the chair in front of the desk and slid the keyboard over to Ellie, who logged her in and opened the site.
‘I’ll help,’ Whitney said, sitting to the left of George.
They scrolled through the site, viewing the different profiles. George couldn’t believe the number of teens who actually joined. She was clearly way behind everything. She’d always believed meeting people online wasn’t popular, but she’d been proved wrong. It seemed an accepted way to meet people. Would she try it herself? She doubted it.
‘So, we’re looking for a name we can link to Shakespeare?’ Whitney said.
‘It’s certainly a start. There are lots of different names we could look at. Take this entry.’ George moved the mouse so the arrow highlighted someone called Rose. ‘This could be a link to Rosalind from As You Like It. Let’s look into her profile.’ She clicked on the name and picture of a girl who looked around sixteen or seventeen. ‘I don’t think this is her; she looks too old.’
‘Often the younger ones make themselves up to look older,’ Whitney said.
‘True, although if she’s our murderer, she’ll want to come across as sweet and innocent. Let’s look at her details. She lives near Rugby, which is in our catchment area. She’s about to take her GCSEs at school. Which would make her too old,’ George said.
‘Where are the profiles of Cleo, Vi, and Bea?’ Whitney asked.
‘They don’t seem to be here,’ George said.
‘They’ve been taken down,’ Ellie said.
‘If they’re no longer showing, I’m assuming there will still be records of them on the site database?’ Whitney said to Ellie.
‘I would’ve thought so. The company hasn’t been very helpful up to now. But it could be they’re not able to assist. Even with the private texts and emails, our IT guys weren’t able to track any of these girls. The murderer is smart and has been using a special network to block us finding out where she is. I’ll ask Mac to contact them again, to see if they’ll give us anything.’
‘It’s worth a try. Right, we’ve established it’s not Rose, so there’s no point in us approaching her.’
‘There’s a Hermione from Lenchester,’ George said. ‘The name could reflect Hermia from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Looking at her profile, she seems the right age. The photo is of a cute younger girl. Shall I reach out to her?’
‘Yes,’ Whitney said.
‘What shall I say?’ George asked.
‘Just say hi and ask what she’s doing,’ Ellie suggested. ‘But you might not get a response straightaway.’ She leaned in towards George. ‘Actually, it’s showing she’s online at the moment, so you could be in luck.’
George made contact and waited, but there was no response. They continued looking through other profiles.
‘There’s a Dee. She could be Desdemona from Othello.’ Whitney grinned at George.
‘I thought you didn’t know any Shakespeare.’
‘I don’t, apart from Othello, because we had to study it for our English literature GCSE. But I surprised you, didn’t I?’
‘You did. Dee looks young and lives locally, so I’ll make contact. She’s online at the moment,’ George said, now knowing what to look for. She said hello, and again they waited.
There was a ping, showing Hermione had replied. George opened it and all it said was NM. HBY.
‘What the hell is NM?’ she asked.
‘It means not much,’ Ellie said. ‘You asked what you been doing? Now you need to answer because she asked you back. HBY means how about you?’
‘Okay, I’ll put hanging out with my friends, if that’s okay?’
‘No. It’s too early in the day. Try SSDD,’ Ellie said.
‘Meaning?’
‘Same stuff, different day.’
‘I’ll never get the hang of this,’ George said.
‘I’ve an idea. Hang on a minute.’ Ellie went into Google and, after searching, printed off a sheet of paper which she handed to George. ‘Here you are. A list of 100 acronyms teens use when texting or online.’
George scanned the list. ‘Seriously, they say IWSN as in I want sex now? And NIFOC is nude in front of computer?’
‘Show me.’ Whitney grabbed the list from her. ‘Bloody hell. I’m glad Tiffany is past this stage. I couldn’t have coped.’
‘At least now I can be more convincing when I converse,’ George said.
She continued engaging in an inane conversation with Hermione regarding her friends, family, and pets. They got quite a discussion going. George told her she was seventeen and doing A-levels. She also found out Hermione was fourteen.
She then got a reply from Dee, and they had a chat. Dee was fifteen and lived in Lenchester. There was nothing flirtatious about the chat.
‘I don’t know whether either of these are the murderer,’ George said.
‘Give it time. You have to build up to it by getting to know them. The more time you spend chatting with these girls, the more they’ll learn to trust you and start to confide more personal stuff. Then you’ll be able to tell if they’re the person we’re looking for.’
Once again, George was impressed by Ellie. She had good insight.
‘Agreed, except the longer it takes, the more likely it is we’ll have another victim. There has to be a way to speed up the process.’
The message board pinged.
‘Look. This is someone new. They’re reaching out to me, and not vice versa.’ She opened up the message. ‘It’s from someone called Juleslovesyou. Interesting.’
‘From Romeo and Juliet. She’s not a strong female character. She’s a fourteen-year-old girl who thinks she’s in love,’ Whitney said.
‘Actually, she’s thirteen and is one of Shakespeare’s strongest heroines. She refused to marry the Count of Paris, despite her father trying every conceivable way to make her. She dug her heels in and wouldn’t be swayed. She was brave and showed enormous determination and courage.’
‘I stand corrected. What does she say?’ Whitney said.
‘She’s asked me what I’m doing.’
‘You stay and chat, I’ve got to head out. The social worker is meeting me and Tiffany at Mum’s house in an hour, and I want to get there first to explain to her and R
ob what’s going to happen.’
George reached over and placed her hand on Whitney’s arm. ‘You’re making the right decision. Especially now you’ve seen the places you want them to move into. It’s difficult now, but it’s for the best in the long run.’
‘I know.’ Tears filled her eyes and she brushed them away. ‘Ignore me. I’ll be fine once everything’s sorted. Wish me luck.’ She gave George a wave before leaving the incident room.
George stared at her retreating back. Their friendship had grown into something special. No way when they’d first met would Whitney have allowed herself to cry in front of her. It took some serious trust. Would she ever cry in front of the officer? One day, maybe.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Whitney picked up Tiffany so they could go together to see her mum and Rob. This was a family discussion, and she wanted her daughter to be a part of it.
‘Are you sure about this?’ Tiffany asked.
‘I’m not sure about anything. All I know is we can’t let Granny and Uncle Rob live on their own any longer. It’s too dangerous. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened which could’ve been prevented if they hadn’t been alone.’
‘What about if I move in with them?’
‘That’s a lovely thought, but totally impractical. You’re out at uni during the day, have a part-time job, and a social life at night. Not to mention how cramped it would be. Have you seen the size of the third bedroom? It used to be mine, and I had a lot less stuff than you. There wouldn’t be room for all your clothes, let alone your computer and textbooks.’
‘I suppose you’re right, but it doesn’t seem fair. Granny will hate having to move.’
‘I can’t bear to say this, but soon Granny won’t know where she is. It’s Uncle Rob I’m more concerned about. What’s he going to do if he’s living in a place where he has no freedom?’
Whichever way she looked at it, no one was going to come out of this situation unscathed.
‘But you said the place you went to look at was okay. Have you changed your mind?’ The worried tone in Tiffany’s voice jolted Whitney back to reality. The girl had been through enough. What she didn’t need was for her mum to offload all her worries onto her.
