Bloodstream (26 page)

Adam couldn’t let go. He’d followed her, to see what her life was like. Then he’d followed the boyfriend, to see what he had that Adam didn’t. That’s how he’d discovered the things he did behind Carly’s back.

His name was Will. Worked for a solicitor’s firm, but Adam was unsure what he did. Had never asked Carly for more information. Following Carly’s boyfriend was a thrill for Adam, watching him as he went about his normal life, not knowing the man who had turned his girlfriend’s head was shadowing him.

What he’d discovered hadn’t really shocked him. He’d expected to find out that Will was unfaithful to Carly.

Carly and Will had been thrust into adulthood with no outside experience, desperate to discover if there was something better out there for them.

All they had known was each other. No one can survive that.

Adam had never told Carly what he’d found out. Months later, he was still talking to her every day, as if nothing had happened between them. The flirtations and explicit conversations continued, but Carly kept him at arm’s length. Reading the words on a screen was enough for her.

He could sense himself changing. Becoming a different person. He began snapping at people in work if they did something he deemed to be wrong. He would walk through crowds, deliberately pushing his shoulder into people. He knew she had changed him, but couldn’t let go of her.

Adam blamed Carly. He couldn’t tell her what her boyfriend was doing to her; he needed Carly to want to be with him without that.

He hadn’t meant to read the article, sitting there in the canteen waiting to see if Carly would appear. He was just scrolling through the news app on his phone, seeing if there was anything of interest. It was only because Liverpool was mentioned in the headline that he clicked on the link.

Another couple of murders. Some video or something. It wasn’t until he read the words further down the page that he began to take notice, found himself taking note of the email address provided by the apparent serial killer. A fleeting thought flashed across his mind. He dismissed it, turning his phone off as Carly approached his table with a smile.

He listened for an hour as she complained about her boyfriend and how bad her life was with him. Adam told her, once again, to leave him. To come with him. To change her life. But her eyes told him all he needed to know.

It was never going to happen.

That’s all it took. The straw that broke him. On the way back to the office, where hundreds of other workers sat staring at computer screens every day, Adam made a decision.

His voice had shaken as he’d spoken to her earlier. He’d pleaded with her, was more accusatory than he’d ever been. Why not him? Why did she carry on with someone she didn’t love? Why, why, why?

She had simply shaken her head, given him a look, and walked away. Sent him an email when she’d got back to her desk.

He wouldn’t open it. Refused to.

Instead, Adam opened a new message. Took his phone out and checked the email address again.

He typed out a message, hovering the cursor over the send button for a second or two before clicking.

The rain had stopped. That was one for the plus column, Murphy thought, driving to yet another grieving relative. Another house where death would be the main conversational piece for months, years to come. At least he could drive there without the windscreen wipers on.

You look for the little victories.

DC Kirkham was playing the dutiful passenger. Eyes locked ahead, hands clasped together in his lap. Murphy was waiting for some spark, some semblance of personality to appear, but nothing had turned up yet. Every now and again, Kirkham would take out his mobile phone, look at it for a few seconds, then return it to his pocket.

‘Why do you keep looking at that?’ Murphy said, after the fifth or sixth time. ‘If you’re worried, I don’t mind you taking it out, you know?’

‘I get car sick if I look at it for too long.’

‘Ah,’ Murphy replied, checking the satnav on his dashboard to make sure he was going the right way. ‘You don’t mind the music, do you?’

‘No, not at all. Quite good actually.’

Murphy accepted the lie and continued driving, lowering the volume a little as the song changed. ‘Pink Floyd isn’t to everyone’s taste, but it’s the first time in a while I haven’t had Laura in the car with me. Making the most of it.’

‘My dad likes them,’ Kirkham replied. ‘Not that I’m saying you’re old or anything.’

Murphy turned, raised his eyebrows at DC Kirkham. ‘I didn’t think you were. I do now, of course.’

‘Erm . . . no, not at all. You’re only a few years older than me.’

‘You could probably add a couple more on to that few.’

Murphy thought he’d grow to like DC Kirkham over time. He knew when to be quiet and not make things worse. They drove on in silence, save for Roger Waters’s pained vocals and Gilmour’s wailing guitars, entering the town of Stoneycroft where Hannah Flynn’s sister lived. Murphy parked the car before taking note of the address once more.

‘Always check the address before ringing the doorbell,’ he said, switching off the engine and unbuckling his seat belt. ‘I once sat in the wrong house for half an hour before realising. Saves awkward conversations.’

‘I’ll make a note of that,’ DC Kirkham replied, pulling out his notebook. Murphy waited for him to finish writing, unable to keep a bemused smirk off his face.

They didn’t need to wait long after knocking, the door was almost swung off its hinges by the family liaison officer posted at the house. Murphy introduced himself and Kirkham to a blank stare, producing his ID when there was no movement from the officer.

‘These new ones never recognise me,’ Murphy muttered under his breath. ‘Not sure if I like it or not.’

The house was well kept, but small. A terraced house on a nice street; one Murphy wasn’t that familiar with, which meant it didn’t see a lot of trouble. The carpets were a bit thin, but the furnishings all seemed to be made of a good quality dark wood, packed into the small space of the living room where they’d been left alone with Hannah’s sister. Nicola Flynn was a brunette version of the blonde Hannah. A little softer in the face, but the resemblance was uncanny.

‘Nicola, we just have a few questions, if that’s okay?’

As Murphy was about to introduce himself Nicola burst into tears. He hadn’t expected her to get upset straight away but it was as if she’d been waiting for him to arrive before opening the floodgates.

‘I’m . . . I’m sorry. I, I just couldn’t hold it in any more.’

‘It’s okay,’ Murphy said, moving towards where she was sitting on the sofa. He sat beside her, his hand hovering in the air, before resting on his own knee. ‘I’m Detective Inspector David Murphy, this is Detective Constable Jack Kirkham. We’re very sorry about Hannah and Greg. Take your time.’

‘Thank you,’ Nicola replied, her crying easing off. ‘It’s all just so unreal. I’ve been sitting here since me mum left with Millie, just watching the news.’ She pointed to the TV displaying
BBC News,
its red banner crawling across the screen. ‘I wasn’t expecting the video of Chloe and Joe to come on. That woman you sent here told me to turn it off, but I couldn’t. It just doesn’t seem real.’

‘I’m sorry you had to see that,’ Murphy said. ‘We’re working to get the news channels not to show it.’

‘It hardly matters now, does it? It’ll be everywhere. And that’s the same thing that happened to Hannah and Greg. I refuse to watch that one. Don’t make me.’

‘We’ll try to make sure that doesn’t happen,’ Murphy said, turning to DC Kirkham and motioning at him to sit down. ‘Your mum told us earlier that Hannah only told you and her about what happened with Millie—’

‘That’s not really true,’ Nicola interrupted. ‘That’s just what me mum thinks. There were a couple of other people who knew. Just Hannah’s close friends though. And not the whole story. What’s happening? Have you found out who did this yet?’

‘We’re working on it, Nicola. We just need to ask a few questions, get a fuller picture of Hannah and Greg.’

‘But there’s nothing to tell,’ Nicola said, staring at the now-muted television. ‘They were just . . . normal. Apart from the Millie thing, but even that wasn’t a big deal.’

Murphy shifted in his seat; his view of a ‘big deal’ was obviously very different from Nicola’s. ‘Who knew of Hannah’s secret?’

Nicola gave a couple of names, which Murphy made sure DC Kirkham wrote down. ‘That was it though, no one else. We were all sworn to secrecy. It was really difficult for her, but she decided not to tell Greg. It would have destroyed him . . . I guess in the end, it did.’

Murphy waited for the tears to start falling again, but it looked like he was safe. ‘Did they have any arguments, or fallings out, that sort of thing?’

‘Not that I know of,’ Nicola replied, flopping back into the sofa and running both of her hands through her hair. ‘This is all just so weird.’

‘I know, but we’re going to find out what’s happened, okay?’

Nicola nodded, leaving one hand in her hair to play with it. ‘They had a couple of tiffs, but nothing major at all. Hannah used to say it was the most normal relationship she’d ever had. She was devastated when she made that one mistake. Millie is just gorgeous, though, and Greg was so good with her. No one needed to know the truth. It wouldn’t have helped anyone.’

‘Do you know who the father is?’

Nicola shook her head firmly. ‘Hannah didn’t even know. It was some bloke in a club she went off with. Absolutely stupid of her, but then, she did do some stupid stuff. She wasn’t sure if she was going to stay with Greg at the time, so some bloke said all the right things to her and got her on her own. She never did anything like that again.’

‘They didn’t have any contact at all afterwards?’

‘She never said they did. She just wanted to put the whole thing behind her.’

‘Her and Greg were having problems at one point then?’ DC Kirkham said from the other side of the room.

‘Oh, that was just silly shite. Hannah was getting a bit fed up with the way he was. Greg was a good guy, but he could be a bit boring. She wasn’t sure he was totally committed to her. It wasn’t his fault, but Hannah just wanted something more out of life. When she got pregnant, she grew up a bit. Decided things weren’t that bad after all. That being content was much better. She loved him.’

Murphy glanced at the TV screen, its presence making him a little nervous, given the events of the day. ‘So, they were happy, but this secret Hannah was keeping must have been difficult?’

‘Not really,’ Nicola replied, sitting forward and clasping her hands together. ‘She just got on with it. It was for the best. She told us late on in the pregnancy, when she was working out dates and stuff. I always thought that’s how Greg would find out, but he never questioned it. Just got on with it and never said a word.’

Murphy asked a few more questions about the relationship, but received much the same responses. ‘What about from the outside, did they have any issues with anyone, any confrontations or arguments?’

Nicola thought for a few seconds before replying. ‘No, not that I know of. She left that for me.’

‘Why do you say that?’ Murphy said, glancing at the time on the TV screen, noticing it was later than he’d thought.

‘Oh, just some problems at work. Some bloke who is a bit weird, that’s all. Nothing I can’t handle. Thankfully, they’ve given me some time off, after what happened this morning. Not that I would have gone in anyway.’

‘Okay,’ Murphy said, lifting himself off the sofa and producing a card from his pocket. ‘If you think of anything else, this is the direct number for our team. Call any time, okay?’

‘Yeah, great. Do you think we’ll be able to see her soon? Mum is a bit anxious to say goodbye . . .’

The tears were threatening to start up again. ‘It won’t be too long,’ Murphy said. ‘We’re going as fast we possibly can for you all.’

Once outside, Murphy turned to DC Kirkham. ‘How many death knocks and interviews with relatives have you done?’

‘Too many,’ DC Kirkham said, waiting for Murphy to key the central locking so he could open his door. ‘Always different, aren’t they?’

‘Like you wouldn’t believe. They don’t get any easier, either. That’s just a lie. You learn to get used to them though.’

‘I think I’m halfway there.’

Murphy opened his door and got into the car, shoving his paperwork onto the back seat. ‘I’m going to drop you back the station and nip off for an hour.’

‘Okay . . . no problem. Anything I can help with?’

Murphy thought about the man he was going to see. A foot shorter and heavier by at least five stone.

‘No, it’s fine,’ Murphy replied, shifting the car into gear and driving away. ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’

There was a time Murphy could have ended up somewhere like this. A dingy little ground-floor flat in a converted building in Speke, round the corner from where he’d grown up. Graffiti covered the brick outside, and an overflowing bin sat next to the front door – the smell of rotting rubbish becoming the stench of desperation. The drawn faces of the few people walking through to the main road were grey and resigned.

There was barely any upward mobility to be seen here, Murphy thought. No chance of escape, a path to a better life. It was why he didn’t live here now. The sentimental feelings outweighed by the knowledge of what the place stood for.

The people were good, but driven into the ground by the lack of support. Things hadn’t changed enough over the years.

Jess had felt the same way. She’d also moved away and built a life for her and her son. Peter.

Murphy shook the memory from his mind, attempting to focus on the matter at hand. He thought about Amy Maguire and what he could do for her. Imagined she was someone he could save.

He knocked on the door with a closed fist, rattling the old wood in its frame. Banged again when a few seconds had passed without a response. He heard footsteps clattering from within and thought he heard Keith Hudson almost falling over his feet as he ran to answer the door.