Chapter Thirteen

       I sat in the cold interrogation room once more, the smell of coffee lingering in the air. My back ached as I fidgeted on the uncomfortable plastic chair and waited. They had set up a television, apparently to show incriminating video footage they had of me. It appeared Kirkleithen’s finest were having some technical difficulties however, as Macdonald cursed under his breath trying to get the thing to respond. My knee shook violently under the table and I kept taking deep breaths, counting down to ten in my head. Eventually the TV screen burst into life, with black and white CCTV footage overlooking the bar in the Breakwater. The time stamp revealed it was from the night of the murder.

             “Why are you showing me this?” I said, rolling my eyes. “We were sat outside all night in the beer garden.”

              Macdonald sat himself down opposite me and sneered. “Doesn’t mean you weren’t coming and going to the bar and bathroom.”

I didn’t answer. He fast-forwarded through the mundane footage of the abnormally busy bar that night – drunken locals singing karaoke and crowding around the bar. He slowed it down when Callum and Dayna snuck off through the back, quickly followed by me discovering them.

         “I told you about all of this.”

          “Yes, you did. Keep watching.”

He sped the footage forward almost an hour, which would have been after Hannah had showed up and the argument broke out. He paused the footage. Andrews, who was sitting beside him, finally broke her silence.

           “You’re probably aware we arrested Dayna’s father after tracing messages back to his phone,” she said, not making any eye contact with me.

           My leg stopped shaking as a hot, sharp chill ran down my spine. “Y-yes. How is that relevant?”

           “I think you already know Blair.”

The footage began playing again. I watched myself, staggering slightly, slipping through a crowd near the bar. It was late by this point, most of the patrons bleary eyed and there was nobody behind the bar. I remembered how I had built myself up to do it. I had noticed the phone behind the counter earlier in the night; I thought it was lost property – not Mr Khalid’s.

I bit my lip hard as I watched past me glance around to make sure no one was looking. I wanted to scream at myself to stop as I reached over the bar and took the phone. I cringed as I thought about how I had logged into my fake account, messaged Dayna before deleting the history of the phone and placing it back by the till.

Andrews and Macdonald paused the footage and sat, staring. I could feel my vision going blurry, my breathing laboured as the panic began to set in.

            My voice trembled, along with the rest of me. “I can explain.”

            Andrews leaned forward. “We’re listening.”

For the first time, she had an imposing presence as a police officer. She was no longer mum’s lifelong friend; she was the hunter, and I, the hunted.

            “Yes. I sent that message to Dayna, but I didn’t kill her. After the weird guy I told you about, she promised me she’d stopped selling herself for money but I suspected she had started it back up again. All of a sudden, she seemed to be flush with cash. So I set up that meeting as a potential client to lure her and prove that she was lying to me.”

             “These messages go back weeks,” said Andrews’, hair face paling.

              I felt my face redden. “I had to build up trust. She wouldn’t meet with just anyone.”

              Macdonald smirked. “So you catfished her and acted like a paying customer.”

              Andrews’ raised an eyebrow. “Catfished?”  

               Macdonald ignored her.  “You understand how that looks to us? Creepy, obsessive stalker friend exchanging dirty messages under a fake profile. Are you sure there wasn’t more to it Blair? You developed feelings for her, didn’t you? You thought if you revealed you were RejectedVex that maybe she would reciprocate didn’t you? And when she freaked out, you killed her.”

             Andrews’ was the one to turn red now. “Jesus Christ, Macdonald. Really?”

             My panic turned to outrage and the words came out more forceful than I anticipated. “What are you some kind of pervert? Yes, I know it seems weird, but I was doing it to prove a point. To protect her! I wasn’t obsessed with her!”           

              “What happened when she met you, then?”

I wasn’t lying when I said that night had been blurry. The cocktail of alcohol, antidepressants and the drugs Dayna had supplied us with that night, had caused parts of the night to black out in my mind. But now, sitting in the hot seat with the video footage from that night in front of me, I could replay the whole encounter with Dayna in my head.

I had returned to the table after sending the message, noticing Dayna checking her phone. She became distracted, fidgeting and constantly checking her watch.

            “Somewhere you have to be?” Sean had commented.

             “No, I just have an early start tomorrow.”

Sean had taken that as his cue to leave and offered to walk me home. I had declined, stupidly. I was determined to catch her out on the lie. So, ten minutes before the arranged fake meeting, I said goodnight to Dayna and pretended to head home. I waited until she had gone inside, before doubling back and going around the side of the hotel. Under the guidance of the streetlights, I staggered and swayed until I reached the meeting place; a bench by a pond in the park. I hid behind the children’s slide and waited. In true Dayna fashion, she was late. When she finally arrived I realised she had changed into something a little more revealing. She looked around, as if she felt she was being watched, before sitting herself down on the bench. I remembered hesitating for a moment, as my throat began to burn with the taste of vodka and vomit, before making my way toward her.

             Her mouth fell wide with shock when she saw me. “Blair! What are you doing here, I thought you were going home?”

            “Waiting for someone?” The sound of my words slurring angered me, I should have been sober for this.

           “N-no I just fancied a walk, burn the alcohol off.”

           “Really? So you aren’t waiting on someone who goes by the name RejectedVex?”

Her expression changed from shocked, to confused before finally contorting with anger. Her perfectly smooth skin wrinkled when she was angry, showing the beginning of crow’s feet that she was probably planning on pumping full of silicon and Botox before long.

          “Are you… you sent me those… what the fuck is wrong with you?”

           “You lied to me! You told me you were done with those sites!”

           “I was!”

           “Clearly! You thought you were meeting a man for sex, what part of that says done to you?”

           She jumped up from the bench, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at me. “It’s none of your business how I make my money Blair!”

          I steadied myself against a bin, fighting the sickness with each breath. “It is when you are putting your life at risk, I care about you – that’s all. I know that is a hard concept for you to grasp; caring about other people.”

          She frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

           “It means you care more about these creeps online than you do your best friend. Where were you when my dad died? Ignoring my calls cause you were partying in Ibiza with some random models. Where were you the day of the funeral? I don’t even know because you didn’t return my calls.”

           “That is not true! I came to see you! I came through to see you when…”

           “When I tried to kill myself because I was depressed. You came to see me in the hospital out of guilt. You don’t give a fuck about me, you never have.”

           She rolled her eyes. “If I don’t give a fuck about you, why did I let you hang around me all day, every day during school? Who was it that helped you get a job, get a boyfriend, get a fucking life? Just because I’ve moved on in life doesn’t mean I don’t still care about you. Not all of us want to be stuck here with no dreams the rest of our life. I don’t know if you’re jealous, or just lonely. But move on Blair, maybe it’s time you made something of yourself.”

          “Dreams! Making something of yourself! You’re nothing but a fucking whore!”

That was when she had pushed me. I had lost my balance in my drunken state, the starlit sky and the play park spinning around me. I fell, hard, my chest crashing into the ground. I let out a cry as I felt myself scrape against the gravel. The warm trickle of blood from my wound slowly seeping in to the blouse.

         “Fuck you, Blair. I’m so sick of your judgement and trying to live to your expectations. Now you’ll have to excuse me. I have a real friend to get to.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I recalled lying in the dirt, watching her high heels click-clack away from me.

          “I don’t know where she went after that. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything but it hurt, it hurt so much. The last thing I ever said to her was that she was a whore. I tried to help her and instead I…”

       Andrews’ handed me a tissue. “Hopefully the DNA test on the blood will corroborate your story.”

       I blew my nose into the tissue. “It will, I promise.”

       Andrews’ turned to Macdonald. “I think we’ve heard enough. You saw how drunk she was in that video there’s no way she would have the ability to have stabbed Dayna as violently as she was, and then drag a body down to the radio station.”
        The detective pursed his lips. “Fine. You are free to go. But don’t leave town.”

Mum was waiting for me in the reception area as I left the room. My eyes were red raw and my body weak and sore. She threw an arm around me, casting Andrews’ a look of anger before leading me out to the car.

         “Are you ok?” she asked, turning the key in the ignition.

I nodded. I was too tired to speak. It was draining, yet oddly relieving to reveal the argument Dayna and I had that night. Even if it did break my heart that our last words to one another ones of anger.

As we drove the short drive toward home, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, casting a weary glance at the screen.

It was an unknown number: Close call, Vex. You must be a pretty good liar if they’ve let you go free. I know what really happened.

I stared down at screen, confused.

         Mum looked over at me. “Everything ok?”

        “Uh yeah…. It’s just Sean making sure I’m ok.”

I typed in a reply: What do you mean? What really happened? Who are you?

But my questions went unanswered.