Sean had been on the run for over a week, with his brother suspended from the police force indefinitely. It seemed Macdonald believed he was helping his brother, though I found it hard to believe Scott was even capable of doing something to help another. The messages had stopped, at least from RejectedVexFan.
Instead, I found myself facing a tidal wave of supportive messages, offers of sponsors for my podcast and even more fans subscribing every day. Although I found it slightly embarrassing, it was equally exhilarating. I had heard through the grapevine that the Khalid’s disapproved; how dare I make money off the back of their daughters murder? But Jamal was supportive.
He came to visit me before leaving town, ready to move on and put the grisly events of the last couple of weeks behind him. I was in the front garden, helping Granda pull weeds when he had driven up in his fancy sports car.
“Aren’t you a little too big time to be doing the gardening?” He joked, making his way up the garden path.
I wiped the sweat off my brow with the back of my hand, blushing. “I wouldn’t say big time…”
He shrugged. “You have almost as many followers now as Dayna did… she’d be proud. You should make the most of it.”
Granda looked up from a particularly stubborn patch of dandelions and gestured towards the car. “You heading back to the city?”
Jamal nodded. “Yeah… I can’t stand another minute here actually. Too many memories.”
Granda shot him a sympathetic smile. “Don’t blame you son, good luck to you. I’m sure they’ll catch that little bastard in no time and we can all move on with our lives.”
I felt my gut wrench and my ears turn red.
“They don’t know for sure it was him…” I said, but it came out in a whisper.
Jamal scratched the back of his head, watching me, but words eluded him.
I dropped my spade to the ground and turned to go into the house. “Goodbye, Jamal.”
I made my way to the kitchen, desperate for a glass of water, only to find Jamie standing by the counter, my phone in his hand.
I snatched it out of his hand, frowning. “What are you doing, you nosey bastard?”
“It wouldn’t stop buzzing and bleeping! I uh… I was just.”
Like a knight in yellow marigolds, mum appeared in the doorway. “He’s just concerned about you! That phone never stops, it could be Sean for all we know!”
I glared back at her, shaking. “If it was Sean you would know. The police would know. Everyone in the fucking highlands would know – ok!?”
She opened her mouth, probably to chastise me for swearing, but I stormed passed and stomped up the stairs to my room. I scrolled through the notifications that had irked Jamie so, when my phone lit up again. An unknown number was phoning me.
My hands started shaking as my thumb hovered over the button to answer. I bit down hard on my dry, parched lips, drawing blood. What if it was Sean? What would I say? What was I supposed to do? I ran to my laptop, setting my podcast software to record as I answered the called and set it to speakerphone.
I took a deep breath, my voice cracking with fear. “He-hello, Blair speaking.”
I breathed a huge sigh of relief when a woman’s voice spoke back to me.
“Hello Blair, so glad I caught you. I’m Nicola Mckay from Scotnews, I was actually contacting you about your podcast… and the recent tragedy you’ve faced.”
I eyed the phone suspiciously, sinking into my office chair. “Oh… why exactly?”
“We’re doing a segment about Dayna and what happened to her and I came across your podcast. Absolutely outstanding work by the way – and I wondered if you’d be open to a television interview to talk about your experience?”
“You want me to be on TV?”
“Yes, this weekend. You can come down to the studio, I’ll show you around – it will be great publicity for your podcast!”
“I don’t know… it feels kind of wrong, using Dayna’s death for publicity.”
“Oh I absolutely understand hun, but think of it as an opportunity to honour Dayna and spread awareness of the dangers of online dating, and the sites she was using. You could make a difference.”
I thought for a moment: what would Dayna do? And I knew; instantly. She would say absolutely say yes. I thought of what Jamal had said only a few minutes ago in the garden; “Dayna would be proud. Make the most of it.”
I knew mum would be horrified, and the Khalid’s might never forgive me, but I knew in my heart it was what Dayna would have wanted.
Smiling to myself, I finally gave an answer. “I’ll do it.”
Days later, I stood outside the live studio, shaking like a leaf. I had told mum I was going into town for a college open day; anything to get in her good graces – until of course she saw me live, on the news, discussing the subject she so hated. I had gone into town on the first bus, in time to get my hair blow dried and my makeup done; I had to look my best, for Dayna. I was fussing with my reflection in a pocket mirror and for a moment I felt as if Dayna was with me. I pictured her smiling at me proudly and fussing with my hair, the way she had before my first date with Sean. I was just reapplying my lipstick when Nicole, the news reporter, finally opened the door and beckoned me in. Her face was plastered in makeup and she wore a Barbie pink suit jacket and matching skirt. I suddenly felt very underdressed, despite my makeover.
The Scotnews room looked bizarre in real life; it was just a tiny set, with two sofas sat either side of a coffee table angled so they were facing a slew of cameras, spotlights and an eager looking production crew. I made my way to the sofa, sitting in the very spot I had seen countless politicians, civilians and even celebrities be interview before. Nicole sat opposite me, a forced grin plastered across her face.
“You ready Blair?” She beamed at me. “We’re about to go live!”
That was when the nerves kicked in.
“Live!? I thought this was prerecorded.”
There was no room for error, they wouldn’t be able to edit it out if I fucked up.
She chuckled. “You’ll do great. Just be yourself.”
Worst cliched advice ever.
A man behind a camera began counting ten from ten, signalling when it was time to start. I clutched my hands into a ball, digging my nails into my palm, willing my body to stop trembling.
Nicola turned to the camera, still flashing her pearly whites. “We are joined today by Blair Campbell, the twenty year old from Kirkleithen whose best friends Murder – and Blair’s subsequent coverage of the tragedy through her podcast “The Murder Sessions” – has placed Kirkleithen firmly on the map. First of all Blair, could you tell us what inspired you to start all of this?”
My voice sounded croaky and shaky in my ears. “The Murder Sessions is actually something Dayna and I thought up years ago. We were obsessed with those true crime documentaries. It just never really garnered much attention before, especially after Dayna lost interest and I was doing it on my own. After she died, I had insider and first hand knowledge of the murder and suddenly everybody wanted to know all the details. I thought the platform would help get the word out there and hopefully find justice for Dayna.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “That’s great yes. It shows just how important the modern media can be in solving cases like this. I believe your plan worked – how did it feel when you found out your very own boyfriend was the one “whodunnit” as they say.”
I stared at her, my jaw dropping open. I wanted to smack the fake smile right off of her face.
“They… well… I… they haven’t caught the killer yet. It’s true they want to bring him for questioning yes, but there’s no evidence that actually points to-“
“Well, don’t you think having a girlfriend who was so into crime and murder, may have helped him work out the best way to perpetrate the crime and cover it up successfully?”
How dare she? How fucking dare she!?
“No! No I absolutely do not.”
She gritted her teeth, turning to the camera. “Moving on; you discussed in detail some of the websites Dayna was using to provide services to men. Do you think by using these kind of sites, Dayna was putting herself out there – or as some have suggested – “asking for it” in a way?”
I stood up, pulling the earpiece and mic they had fitted me if away from my face. “I can’t believe you! This was a mistake. Dayna was a loving, caring, beautiful soul. No she was not “asking for it”. You’re exactly what’s wrong with the world – nothing but a victim blaming piece of -“
“And that’s all we have time for today! Join us tomorrow as we welcome-“
I didn’t hang around to find who tomorrows guest of honour was going to be. I marched out of the studio, tears of rage streaking my cheeks with mascara and headed out into the street. I took in a mouthful of fresh air. What the hell had I been thinking?
And now I would have to face the wrath of mum and Dayna’s family. My phone began to vibrate in my pocket, and I decided it was better to face the music now rather than later. I didn’t check to see who was calling: I put my phone to my ear, ready for whatever mum was about to scream at me.
“Blair?”
It wasn’t mum.
“Sean!?”
“I saw you on the news… I’m so happy you don’t think I did it.”
“Sean where are you? You have to turn yourself in.”
“I can’t,” he spoke in a whisper. “Will you meet with me?”
“I… I don’t know. Why?”
“So I can explain everything. I can tell you the truth. I know what happened that night. I know who really killed Dayna.”
The Murder Sessions 