‘Ciaran?’
‘Emilia … hey.’ Ciaran’s voice sounds muffled through the phone, as if he is cupping his hand around his mouth, the background noises loud and relentless. ‘So sorry it’s taken all day to call you back.’
‘Are you at the station? It sounds loud.’
‘Emi … Emi, I can’t really hear you. I’m going to head outside. Just a second.’
She waits, the phone pressed to her ear, listening to the sound of Ciaran’s footsteps pounding down the hall. The station ripples into her mind, and as a door slams, and then another, almost immediately after, she can picture exactly where he is – on the long stretch of corridor between the serious crime unit and child protection at the other end. Soon he’ll be turning right and making his way down the stairs to the exit. And yes – there it is: his rhythmic trot as he bounds down three at a time. One final slam and the air around him seems to clear. He is outside.
‘Hey, sorry about that.’ He sighs heavily. She can hear scratching – that’ll be him rubbing his jaw, the day-old stubble rough under his nails.
‘Heavy day?’
‘Yep. Heavy day … Are you okay? Jen said she saw you earlier …’
Emilia’s cheeks flush. She knows they talk about her – Jenny has been their mutual friend for years, and they’ve always been close – but the thought of it makes her skin crawl.
‘Yes, I’m fine … absolutely fine. I just … I saw that they’d found Hayley and I wanted to check on you. Are you okay? Were you there when it was called in?’
He sighs again. ‘No … I went straight there after I saw you.’
‘Who found her? Was she hidden?’
‘A dog walker. And … no. She wasn’t hidden. She was just left out in the open. It was so eerie seeing her lying there, no attempt to hide her at all.’
‘Any CCTV?’
‘Emilia –’
‘I swear I’m not getting too attached, I just want to help in any way I can … Was there CCTV?’
‘There’s CCTV of the entrance on the south of the park, but the camera at the east entrance looks like it was tampered with. We’re looking at the streets nearby but haven’t found anything yet.’
‘And Luca?’
‘We’re looking for him.’
‘No trace of him in the park?’
‘No. Nothing.’
‘Is he … is he the main suspect?’
‘You know the answer to that. Look, Emi, I really need to go back in now. But I’ll speak to you soon, okay?’
She bites down on her lip, his abrupt ending of their conversation sending a sting down her spine. ‘Mm-hmm.’
‘It … No, never mind.’
‘What were you going to say?’
‘It’s so good to hear your voice again … I’ve missed it.’
She smiles softly. ‘Yours too. Speak soon.’
‘Bye, Emi.’
‘Bye,’ she whispers.
She pulls the phone away from her ear. For a moment she simply sits, staring down at her phone, her body thrumming. Everything inside her is telling her that she needs to be involved, she needs to help. But why? Why is this different to any of the other cases that her old team has dealt with since she has been gone? None of them have sucked her in like this one – a swirling vortex pulling her towards its centre. Is it because she was there, in the forum, when the first confession was made?
No – deep down she knows the truth. She wasn’t able to solve what happened to Sophie. She couldn’t get her justice. And this case is so public, so much of the information out there for anyone to investigate. Maybe if she can help, the guilt for failing her sister will begin to fade. Whoever did this deserves to be punished. And she’ll do anything she can to make sure that happens.
Emilia gets up from the sofa and darts across the room to her desk, quickly turning on her computer screen. The forum is there, waiting. It’s always there now, fixed to her second screen. She’s been unable to click away.
And it would seem that others are trapped just the same.
The website is swimming with activity, the number of anonymous users fixed at the top of the forum in bold.
120,483 active users.
Over one hundred thousand people, all on the website, all watching, waiting to see if whoever did this – Luca or someone else – will post again. But what are people waiting for? Another video? Another opportunity for them to watch as a woman lives out her final moments in fear? Is her horror entertainment now?
Emilia pushes against the desk, her nails digging into the wood, and slides away, the wheels of her chair squeaking. She stalks to her kitchen and reaches for a glass before turning on the tap. She gulps thirstily as the water thrums down on to the steel of the sink. She refills the glass and drinks again, trying to quench the rage that has begun to burn inside her chest.
A door slams – a notification.
Emilia turns slowly, the water still running from the tap behind her, her heart pounding. She walks towards her computer, her feet suddenly cold against the wooden floor.
Focusing on the screen, her eyes fix on the new confession, highlighted in bold.
Her stomach drops.
Anonymous 01
Another confession for you. Murder. London. Gregory Weiss. Isabella Santos.