The Hashtag Murderer was wearing maroon jogging bottoms and a sweatshirt, like the man Freddie’d seen in the cell. Two broad officers flanked his movements, like bouncers from a dodgy club. They’d obviously picked those who would tower over him, but it made no difference. He didn’t need bulk or muscle: his presence filled the space, sucking all the oxygen out, like a vacuum. Nas inhaled.
As if he were out for a stroll and had decided to pause on a park bench, he took the chair opposite. His skin was flat, like he’d been moulded from putty. He’d been without sunlight, fresh air, for a while. Prison skin. Effortlessly he held Nas’s gaze, and then slowly, swivelling like the camera, he turned to look at her. His eyes roamed over her. A fingernail on her right hand punctured her palm.
‘I need water.’ His voice dominated the room.
The officer behind them exited quickly. Nas could hear his hurried steps outside. The Hashtag Murderer stared at her. She didn’t blink. Couldn’t move.
The officer came back with a small plastic glass of water and placed it on the edge of the table. Why isn’t he in handcuffs? Why isn’t he restrained? He picked up his drink and brought it to his thin lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He gave a refreshed sigh. A smack of his lips. Vomit threatened her throat.
Nas started next to her, like she’d had an electric shock. ‘Are you communicating with anyone outside of the prison?’
He smiled, resting his finger in the condensation ring left by the cup. Five pairs of eyes were trained on him. He wiped his damp finger along the table, staring at Freddie. Her molars reached for each other. He was making a shape, a jagged line. He’s drawing my scar. With each movement she could feel him working his finger into her, probing, peeling it back, pulling her apart.
‘You sick fuck,’ she said. The officers bristled.
‘Someone is using your name.’ Nas’s knuckles were transparent from gripping her pen and paper.
He looked at her languidly. ‘Which one?’
‘Someone is using Apollyon. On suicide notes. On threatening notes.’
He lifted his finger to his mouth, sucking the water drop.
‘Is it you?’ A tiny tremor shook Nas’s words.
Heat accelerated through Freddie. There wasn’t time for games. Somewhere out there Lottie was being held, tortured, her life in danger. ‘An innocent girl is missing: stop fucking around!’
He turned his head very slowly, savouring the view, until he was looking straight at her. Into her. His eyes burned through her skin. Slashed at her. Tore her to ribbons. Red red ribbons. The room thrummed with anxiety. A nervous laugh gurgled out of her. He didn’t look away.
Nas tapped the end of her pen on the table. The sound was cannon fire in the silence. They had no power in this room. No leverage. ‘If you know anything about this, this is your chance to act. Don’t condemn more families to suffering.’
He dropped Freddie’s gaze and she exhaled. Tried to swallow but her mouth was full of dust.
He looked at Nas and licked his tongue slowly over his teeth. Freddie longed to protect her from this. ‘Did you bring me any photos?’ he asked.
Nas recoiled. Freddie felt the room tilt. Disbelief and disgust burned like fireworks over Nas’s face. ‘I’m not showing you photos of the victims.’
A trickle of sweat ran between Freddie’s shoulders. The thought of bringing pictures of Chloe or Lottie into this place, this room, was repulsive.
‘This interview is finished.’ Nas pushed herself up and away from the desk. The officers looked startled. This wasn’t the plan. They were supposed to remain seated until he was removed.
He leant back in his chair; the two officers flexed, ready.
Nas thrust her finger forwards. ‘If I find out that you’re responsible for the disappearance of these young girls, I will see that you’re tried for it. You will never, ever get out of here.’ The tops of her ears were red. Time seemed to slow. The officers exchanged glances. Freddie’s stomach flipped. We have to get out of here.
He brought a hand up and the officers leapt forwards. Nas stumbled back, her legs colliding with the immovable chair. He turned his palm into a stop sign and they all froze. Obeying his command. He gave a small, amused smile, and ran his hand through his hair.
‘I wanted photos of you, Nasreen.’
Nas’s mouth fell open. The heat of the room was extinguished as ice exploded in sharp crystals through Freddie.
‘This has been fun.’ He stood. The officers immediately stepped alongside him. The Hashtag Murderer left the room. Clunk. Clink.