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Afterword

I would just like to take a minute to say thank you to everyone has been reading “The Murder Sessions” and supported me through this. It has been very daunting opening up my writing to other people like this, with lots of fears and anxieties running through my head: what if nobody likes it? What if people laugh? What if it’s just shit? It’s been especially hard putting raw, unedited work out there, but the reception has been amazing.

I’ve always loved murder mysteries so it was only natural I end up writing one. My biggest gripe with having watched and read so many mysteries, is that it has been so long since I came across one where I didn’t see the reveal coming. I also love going back and looking for subtle clues that once you know the answer – are so obvious! I hope I achieved this in Blair’s story.

Emily wasn’t always planned to be the killer. From planning right up until a few chapters towards the end, I couldn’t decide if Blair or Jamie were the killer. The original plan was Blair, as I absolutely love the use of unreliable narrators, but then I thought of a life for Blair after Kirkleithen – I wanted her to be innocent and free of her sheltered little life. I started to picture her attending university, or traversing a big city and decided no; she didn’t deserve to have her life ruined like that.

I then laid out clues that pointed to Jamie; the drugs he was feeding Blair, the mysterious man Dayna was meeting up with, Blair’s general bad vibe towards him and the murder weapon coming from the house. However, as I neared the conclusion I realised the clues also pointed to Blair’s mother. Also, I felt the mystery behind Granda’s dead girlfriend hinted to a darkness that could run through the family; so much so that Blair even questioned her own guilt. It also occurred to me that Emily’s aversion the Blair’s true crime obsession and her obsessive cleaning could be her way of dealing with it and thus, a killer was born a mere four chapters from the ending, despite the plan I had written from the beginning stating otherwise.

This is when I love writing the most: when the world and characters you create take on a life of there own and grow naturally. So, I hope you were all as surprised as I was.

I feel like there is more of Blair’s story to tell. Perhaps she becomes a private investigator or a forensic scientist? I’m sure she will be back, and I hope you’ll all join her again on her next adventure.

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Chapter Nineteen

            The journey back to Kirkleithen was one of the longest of my life. I could barely sit still, my eyes watching the clock as each minute that ticked by felt like an hour. I could barely sit still, itching to get home and praying it was just a coincidence; Granda’s screwdriver would be in his shed, nestled amongst the other matching tools.

             The policeman in the drivers’ seat caught my eye in the rear view mirror. “You got ants in your pants hen?”

             I forced a smile, settling back into my seat. “It’s just been a long day.”

             “You’ll be home soon.”

It was dark by the time we pulled up outside my house on what felt like the edge of the earth. I thanked the driver and made my way up the path. The whole journey id been twisting and turning in my seat, eager to get here, but now I was home I hesitated. I took each step slowly up the creaky porch steps, my body heavy like a dead weight. Before I had made it to the door, the porch light lit up and mum threw the door open.

              Her eyes were wide and wild as she shrieked: “What were you thinking? Appearing on a talk show like that? The Khalid’s are furious!”

             I dodged my around her and forced my way into the house. “It’s not a big deal.”

             “Not a big deal? Did you not just go live on national TV and defend her suspected killer?”

             “Yes, yes I did! Because I know it wasn’t him – and I can prove it.”

              She grabbed my arm and spun me around, slamming me against the hallway wall, knocking a picture frame to the ground. “What do you mean you can prove it? What’s going on Blair?”

             I shrugged free, stepping over the broken glass. “Just let me go!”

             “I know you’ve been off your meds!” I heard her shout after me, “Jamie found the pills you threw away in the bucket. You’re not well Blair, you need to calm down!”

I ignored her, instead unlocking the backdoor and breaking into a sprint to the shed. I forced the warped door open and pulled my phone from my pocket to use as a torch. I threw open drawers and upturned boxes in search for the toolbox.

              I muttered to myself in frustration as each box came up empty. “Come on, come on. Where the fuck are you?”

            Eventually I found it, on a shelf above me. Tins of paint and old dusty cloths fell to the ground and as I grasped at it and pulled it to the ground. I opened it up and immediately saw the empty indentation where the screwdriver once sat. I fell back against the wall, closing my eyes and swallowing the sick that was rising in my throat. A vision of Dayna, floating face down in the hot tub flashed through my head, the screwdriver sticking out of her back. I could feel her wet, lifeless body against mine, the smell of blood and chlorine thick in the air. No! No! That couldn’t be! It was my mind playing tricks on me. I didn’t go to the lodge that night.

I had to remember what I knew was real, and focused on the image of her feet walking away from me as I lay in a puddle of mud; that was the last time I had seen her. That was the last time I seen her. That…

             “Are you ok poppet?”

Granda’s voice caused me to jump, his silhouette lit up by moonlight as he leaned against the doorway.

             I pointed to the toolbox “Granda! Where’s your screwdriver?”

             He shrugged. “It should be in there.”

             “Well, it’s not! Did you misplace it somewhere? Did somebody borrow it?”

              “I suppose Jamie or your mum might have been in and borrowed it without me knowing. Or you, of course. You live here too.”

             I clutched my head in my hands in frustration. “You don’t understand.”

             He crouched down and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Well if you explain, maybe I can try and understand.”

             “I’m scared… I might have done something really bad.”

              “You’re not sure?”

               “No… I can’t remember clearly. I feel like my heads been fuzzy ever since…”

               “You’ve been under a lot of stress my dear, not sleeping, you’re grieving…”

                My voice cracked as the tears spilled down my cheeks. “If I can’t remember… how do I know I didn’t hurt her?”

                 “Oh…” He sat back leaning against the workbench opposite me, staring at me through the glow of the moonlight with intensity. “If something happened, Blair, I understand. Passion is a powerful thing. Sometimes we can act out of the frustration love and do or say things we don’t mean. Sometimes we do it because we believe it’s what is right for the people we care about.”

                  My mind flashed to the skeletal remains I had found in the woods. “Granda, what are you saying?”

                 His face turned blank, giving nothing away. “All I’m saying is I understand that sometimes we hurt the people closest to us. There’s a fine line between love and hate, and sometimes the pain of loving someone can lead us to do hurtful things. I understand, Blair.”

                “Granda… Margaret Mullins… Did you…”

But he didn’t answer, he stood up and left the shed without another word.

His words bothered me as I lay in bed that night. “I understand”. He understood what? Did he think I was a killer? Was I a killer? Why couldn’t I fucking remember? I had read about this before; your brain blocking out memories to protect you from trauma, but it felt like something more. There was a thick fog blocking out chunks of the last few weeks; the memories lurked on the other side; I knew it. I racked my brain going over that night systematically, clinging to every snippet of conversation I could remember right up until my fight with Dayna. It wasn’t enough. I read through the messages we had sent each other before meeting.

You still ok to record the podcast before we go out? B x

If I have to. Lol. D x  I

Plzzzzzzz. I’ll love u forever. B x

You already do… ok.  Be over in 10. D x

I had never released that podcast to the public. I wasn’t even sure I had listened to it back. I got out of bed, opened my laptop, and scrolled through my files until I found it. It startedoff as I had remembered, a discussion about crimes of passion, but it hadn’t ended quite how I had remembered. I gasped in disbelief at what I was hearing, and that’s when it all came back to me. Running through my mind as clear as a 3D movie. I slammed my laptop shut as I heard creaking on the floorboards on the other side of my door. I sat dead still until the creaking stopped and the footsteps made their way to bed. All I could hear now was my own laboured breathing and a voice in my head screaming, “You have to get out! There’s a killer under this roof!”

Shaking, I stood up from my desk, taking my laptop with me. It wasn’t safe in my own home anymore.

I slipped my feet into a pair of shoes and pulled on a jacket; I had to go to the radio station. I had to get the word out there. It was time that everyone knew the truth of what happened that night, before the killer realised I had remembered; despite their efforts to snuff out my memories the way they had snuffed out her life.

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Chapter Eighteen

         Sean was waiting for me in the middle of an industrial state, in his brothers’ car. The rain was lashing down hard, yet I hesitated before opening the door to the vehicle; maybe I would be safer out here? But my jacket was soaked through to the skin and my feet ached from the heels I had worn for my disaster of a television appearance, so perhaps against my better judgement, I got in. A pop song was barely legible on the radio, drowned out by the incessant thwump-thwump of the windscreen wipers.

             “Blair, thank you for agreeing to meet me. Did you come alone, like I asked?”

              “Of course.”

His face was pale and gaunt, his eyes underlined with purple shadows. He reached out to touch me and I found myself edging away, pressing myself against the car door.

              “I’m not going to hurt you, Blair.”

               I let out a deep breath, relaxing a little as he took my hand. “Then what’s going on, Sean? If you’re innocent then why are you running from the police? Why were you harassing Dayna?”

               He turned to gaze out of the windscreen, dropping my hand, as if too ashamed to look at me. “It started off as a warning. After your dad died, and you tried to hurt yourself, I know a lot of that pain come from feeling alone. I saw how hurt you were when Dayna never called, never visited. But I was there, Blair, everyday – but it was never enough, was it?”

                I shook my head. “That’s not true. You are enough, I was always grateful for all you did for me. It’s just…”

                “It’s just I wasn’t Dayna. It’s ok, I get it now, you don’t need to explain yourself. She always had you wrapped around her little finger, doing her bidding; it’s only natural you were hurt when she wasn’t there for you.” His lips twisted and turned in anger, almost spitting the words as he spoke of her. “Dayna was a user, and she used you the most. I was so angry when she finally came to see you and acted as if she was the best friend in the world. As soon as she was back on the scene you started to push me away again and I’ll admit I was jealous. I knew it wouldn’t last, that the guilt would wear off and she’d go back to ignoring you again. So I gave her a little nudge. The messages started as a warning but she wouldn’t listen Blair; she wouldn’t leave you alone.”

                 “Sean… I didn’t realise, I didn’t mean… I’m sorry you felt I prioritised Dayna over you, or that you weren’t enough; but that was my fault. Not hers. You shouldn’t have-“

                 I flinched as he shouted over me. “Really, Blair? Even now you are still defending her?”

                “Yes! Yes I am! She’s dead Sean, she isn’t here to defend herself. It’s me you should be angry at, she didn’t do anything wrong.”

                “She took you away from me! Whenever she was around it was like I didn’t exist!”

                 “And what? You wanted me all to yourself like some kind of property? You’re fucking crazy!”

                  “Oh I’m crazy? Aren’t you the one who made a fake account to get your rocks off watching your best friend strip on camera? Aren’t you the one who tried to top yourself? Don’t you think I know what you did, after she rejected you?”

I felt as if he had punched me in the stomach.

                    “I’m out of here!” I shouted, turning to open the door.

             “No!” he screamed, slamming his hand down on the lock button.

              I tugged at the door handle in vain. “Sean come on, let me out!”

              “I’m not letting you go until you listen to me! Until you accept what she done!”

His eyes looked mad with rage, his once sweet and innocent face wore the same expression of disdain his brother often did. I shrank back into the car door, letting out a scream as he leaned towards me, reaching out to grab me.

                “Calm down,” he roared. “Just listen to me!”

I screamed louder, twisting my body to avoid his grasp. He grabbed my arm, his nails digging into it as he placed his other hand over my mouth.

                 “Please just stop screaming and listen to me.”

I didn’t let the sadness and desperation in his eyes hinder me. I opened my mouth and sank my teeth into his palm. He tasted of earth and grass; apparently, you could take the boy out of the farm, but you couldn’t take the taste of the farm out of the boy! He jerked his hand away, cursing under his breath. I took the moment to flail away from him, kicking out towards him. I felt the impact as the heel of my stiletto caught him right in the corner of his eye. He let out a guttural scream, falling back against his own door, his hands clutching his face. Before he had time to regain composure, I leaned over to press the unlock button and dived out of the car, landing face first into a puddle. As I landed, I remembered the way I had fallen that night, and lay helplessly on the tarmac as Dayna walked out of view. I had been so weak and pathetic. Cringing, I pushed myself up from the ground and darted towards the exit of the carpark. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Sean running towards me, blood trickling from his busted up eye.

I kicked off the shoes and sprinted out of the gate and around the corner, my feet kicking up the water below me and soaking my tights. As I made my way down the street, I began frantically waving my hands above my head. That was the signal. Just as Sean turned the corner the street lit up with blue and red lights and Macdonald stood, hands across his chest, smug smile on his face, waiting. The jig was up; did Sean really think I would be stupid enough to meet him without alerting the police? He closed his eyes, lifting his hands in defeat as he sank to his knees and waited to be cuffed.

               Macdonald lit up a cigarette before outstretching the packet towards me. “Good work, Miss Campbell. Thank you for trusting us.”

              I accepted his offer, taking a long drag. “Thank you for trusting me.”

A pang of guilt hit me as I watched them walk Sean towards the car and suddenly his words came rushing back to me. He had said he knew who hurt Dayna, but he hadn’t told me yet.

              “Wait!” I shouted, tossing the half-smoked cigarette to the floor. “Can I just say something to him, really quick?”

               Macdonald shrugged. “We need to get him medical assistance – you did quite a number on his eye – and I want to get him in for questioning as soon as possible.”

If Dayna had been there, she would have fluttered her eyelashes and pouted to get her way. Instead, I stared at Macdonald pleadingly, promising it would just take a second.

           He rolled his eyes. “Fine, go, before they get him in the car.”

I darted forward, placing my hand on Sean’s shoulder.

            “Sean, I didn’t do this to catch you out – I did it because you clearly need help. I’ll be there for you, I’ll do everything I can to help.”

            He glared at me with empty eyes, as if any love he had for me was drained away. “I don’t need your help, and I’m sure as hell done with helping you. I’m ready to tell the police everything you’ve done.”

             “What’s that supposed to mean?”

             “It means I was there that night, Blair. I saw everything and I’m done covering it up for you.”

             “Covering what up?”

But before he could answer, the police had ushered him into the back of the car. I watched as the car pulled away, before turning back to Detective Macdonald.

            “Come on,” he said, “I’ll get a patrol car to take you home, you’ve missed the last bus.”

             I nodded with a smile, beginning to follow him to a car when another police officer came around the corner.  

             “Detective! Detective!” the dishevelled cop ran towards him, a plastic evidence bag clutched in his hand. “I found this in his car – I think it’s the murder weapon!”

              “Murder weapon? I thought you knew what it was – she was stabbed, right?”

              “She was stabbed by something round and sharp, we never found it.”

The cop finally caught up and tossed the bag towards Macdonald. I peered over his shoulder at the contents, recognising it as soon as I saw it. It was a long, red handled screwdriver. It was from a personalised set that I had bought as a gift. It was from a personalised set that hung pride of place in a shed; Granda’s shed.  

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Chapter Seventeen

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.”

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Chapter Sixteen

          My phone vibrating in my pocket finally put an end to my sobbing. I had a couple of missed calls from the police station, three from Sean and a whole bunch from Mum. That wasn’t what caught my eye, however. There was a picture messaged that caused my blood to run cold; someone had been here with me. The messaged showed a series of photographs; one of me entering the stair, another entering Dayna’s flat and last of all, the most chilling, a picture of me sprawled across the bed, sobbing. God was I an ugly crier. I shot up from the bed, willing myself to march through to the living room, but I froze in fear once I got to my feet.

               “Who’s there? Show yourself!” My voice echoed back, shaky and hoarse.

I listened for any sign of movement; a creaking floorboard or faint footsteps, but heard nothing. Counting ten and taking a deep breath, I tiptoed through to the small living room, but whoever had been watching me was gone. They had left the front door ajar. I ran to the corridor, suddenly overcame with rage but the stairway was silent. I sighed, defeated and made my way to the bathroom before leaving. It was then that I remembered exactly why I was here. When Dayna and I were younger, she had shown me the perfect hiding place for cigarettes and other things I didn’t want my parents hiding; a box of sanitary products. I swung open the door of her medicine cabinet and began raking around in the boxes and pill bottles. It was the last box in the cabinet that revealed the goods; a small black notebook that had been bent into shape to fit into the box. It was an address book, only the names were all usernames, and next to them were bank account numbers with cash amounts beside them. I flicked through the pages, my heart thudding to a halt when I saw my own fake username. The one I had used to spy on Dayna: RejectedVex.  Underneath, in brackets was the name “Blair.” I felt my face turn red with chagrin. I continued to scan the pages until I came across another familiar name: RejectedVexFan with urgent scribbles underneath: Avoid. Creep. Troll – how do they know Blair?

As I read the words back over and over, a sudden realisation washed over me. This person who was stalking me, sending me weird messages, wasn’t obsessed with Dayna but me. What if they had hurt Dayna out of jealousy? It may take some explaining to the police to make them understand why I was here, but I couldn’t hide this. I had to tell them. The revelation reminded me of the slew of missed phone calls I had received, and I pulled out my phone to see I had several more. I decided to call the police first; I would deal with mum’s wrath later.

               Audrey Andrews’ answered on the first ring. “Blair? Are you safe?”

               “Of course I’m safe… why wouldn’t I be?”

                “Oh thank God, you’ve had the whole station worried sick.”

I doubted that; there’s no way Scott gave a shit about me. Or probably Macdonald, for that matter.

               “Why? What’s going on?”

               She paused for a moment, the urgency in her voice turning to sadness. “It’s probably better we do this in person… can you come down to the station?”

                “Might take me a while, I’m in Inverness.”

                 “Send me the address and I’ll have a squad car come pick you up.”

                  “A squad car? Am I under arrest?”

               “No, no of course not. Macdonald was wrong about you we see that now. We just need to be sure you’re safe. I’ll explain everything when you get here.”

*

           The journey home was long and tense, the rush hour traffic more infuriating than ever. I quizzed the cops in the front of the car for some answers, but they seemed as clueless as I did. The rain had turned to fog by the time we pulled up in front of Kirkleithen police station. Macdonald greeted me outside the station, his frown lines more pronounced than ever as he puffed on a cigarette.

             “Glad to see you’re safe,” he mumbled, and I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe the ogre had a heart after all. Mum was in the reception area, pale looking with puffy red eyes. Jamie sat by her side, equally as solemn looking.

              She stood up and threw her arms around me. “Blair I’ve been calling you!”

               “Sorry,” I said, “I was just feeling a bit overwhelmed. I went to the city for a change of scenery. Now, is someone going to tell me what’s going on?”

Mum peeled away from me, shifting nervously on the spot, avoiding my gaze.

                Andrews’ appeared from behind me. “Let’s talk through the back.”

I followed her through to the back; at least this time I wasn’t a suspect. I passed Sean’s brother in the hallway. He looked grey, his eyes surrounded in puce shadow. He avoided my gaze, his face contorted in disgust and I rolled my eyes. As we entered the interrogation room I was beginning to know like the back of my hand, the familiar waft of coffee tickled my nose. Andrews’ gestured for me to take a seat, as she and Macdonald done the same.

                Macdonald wore his usual stern expression, his voice calm and collected. “Miss Campbell, have you been in touch with Sean Clark recently?”

                I nodded. “Yes I was with him at his farm this morning… why?”

                 “Has he been acting… strangely recently?”

                 “Strange? Not at all. Same old Sean really.”

                  Andrews ran her tongue across her lips. “Have you heard from him since this morning?”

                  I shook my head. “No. We argued. He tried to call me after I left for town but I didn’t answer.

                  Her eyes widened. “What did you argue about?”

                   “Umm… Dayna.”

Macdonald and Andrews’ exchanged a strange glance, nodding.

                   “Why are you asking me about Sean? Is he in some sort of trouble?”

                    Macdonald slid a piece of paper across the table towards me. It was a print out of a load of messages from RejectedVexFan to Dayna. “We believe that he is responsible for these. It took some work but we managed to trace them back to him when he sent some messages to you from an unsecured network.”

I blinked, scanning the messages with my jaw wide open.

                “This can’t be,” I whispered. “Why would he…”

Jealousy. Sean had always been jealous of my relationship with Dayna; he wanted to be my number one.

                I shook my head. “He might have sent these messages, but he would never kill Dayna.”

                Andrews reached out and squeezed my hand. “We’re keeping an open mind, but for now he is our main suspect. Now, Blair, I need you to tell me where he is.”

                “I don’t know I… well, actually… he must have followed me to Inverness. That username took these photos of me.”
I explained everything; my visit to Dayna’s to see if the police had missed anything (this was met by a few cross words from Macdonald), the little black book I had found and the messages I had received.

                Macdonald stood up from the table. “I’m going to call the station in Inverness and have all the officers be on the lookout for him.

                Andrews’ nodded, before turning to me. “We believe Sean’s brother may have cottoned on before we did and gave him the heads up.”
I nodded; of course, ever the loyal brother was Scott.

                 “At the moment, Sean is missing. If you hear anything from him you have to let us know immediately.”

I closed my eyes, fighting tears. First Dayna, now Sean. Something didn’t feel right; Sean might have been jealous, but he wasn’t an angry or violent person. I knew in my heart something was wrong; Sean wouldn’t even kill a spider that had intruded in his home, and now he was on the run for a murder. They had the wrong guy, I just knew it.

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Chapter Fifteen

I caught the second – and last – bus of the day by the skin of my teeth. One of the many inconveniences of living so far in the middle of nowhere, was that if you couldn’t drive you were trapped in the village after twelve o’clock. It was a good two hour bus journey through the winding valleys and forests of the highlands before the Kessock bridge came in to view. I would only have a three hour window to spend in Inverness before the last bus back to Kirkleithen, including the twenty minute walk to and from Dayna’s flat.

I stirred in my seat, craning my neck to peer out at the queue of traffic in front of us. Rain lashed at the windows, droplets reflecting the red glow of temporary traffic lights, obscuring the view.

I sighed, sinking back into the musty smelling carriage and wondered what exactly I was going to do here. What did I expect to find that police hadn’t already? Macdonald’s men would have been thorough, but if I knew Dayna as well as I thought I did, I knew exactly where she would hide things she didn’t want to be found.

When the bus pulled into the bus station and finally shuddered to a stop, I jumped up from my seat to dodge passed the old dears and students that I knew would dilly dally and hold up my exit.

I broke into a jog, my dirt speckled trainers splashing through puddles as I dodged crowds of shoppers and tourists. It had been a long time since I’d been in the city, normally I found it overwhelming and claustrophobic, but today I just didn’t have the time to notice. I stopped to catch my breath and check google maps a couple of times, having only been to the flat once previously. I was beginning to develop a stitch when I finally made it to the front door of her apartment block.

It was a greying, run down tenement above a bookies; I had always pictured her living in a swanky penthouse and had been shocked when I came to visit.

I fumbled in my bag for the spare key she had given me years ago.

“You’re always welcome in my home, you might as well just keep it. I’ll get a spare.”

Those words had meant so much to me at the time, even if I had never had cause to use them. Now I had the worst cause of all. The stench of cigarettes and piss wafted out as the door swung open. I held my breath as I made my way up to the third floor. Blue and white police tape was stuck across the door, a small collection of flowers and candles were piled up next to it. A sad smile spread across my face; I felt strangely relieved that Dayna’s neighbours cared enough about her to leave these little tokens in her memory.

I looked around before inserting my key into the lock, ensuring nobody was watching.

“Imagine Macdonald caught you here,” I mumbled to myself, “You’re not exactly making yourself look innocent.”

The flat was just as I remembered it: tiny and cold but decorated with all the latest trends. The walls painted a pale grey, she had a crushed velvet sofa covered in cushions, and the kitchen was adorned with copper handles and accessories. It was an Instagram dream; looking at her pictures online, the place looked like an on trend haven – she’d worked out just the perfect angles and lenses to make the place seem bigger and more luxurious. In reality, it was cramped and soulless, with a lingering smell of damp that never went away (no matter how many candles and reed diffusers were dotted about the place).

Nothing stood out in the living room or kitchen; there weren’t any obvious signs that the police had been here either. I made my way through to her room. The smell of her designer perfume still lingered and I became overwhelmed, heart pounding in my chest. I perched on the end of her bed and looked around.

Everything was as she had left it; makeup strewn across her chest of drawers, bed sheets unmade; the only thing missing was the laptop from her desk.

I thought back to the time I had come to visit her here. It was before dad died, I hadn’t seen her since she had left and I wanted to impress her; prove that I was taking care of myself without her input. I had spent hours curling and backcombing my hair in the morning before catching the bus, and the entire journey applying makeup and false eyelashes with a shaky hand. I remembered how proud I felt when she had said I “looked great” when she’d met me at the bus station. It had started off just like old times, sitting in Dayna’s room watching her dress up as we drank copious amounts of wine.

“So what’s the gossip back in old Kirky?” She had asked, between applying coats of lipgloss.

I shrugged, taking a sip of wine. “Same old, same old. Who cares? I want to hear about your high flying city life! What have you been doing here?”

“I’ve had a few modelling jobs, I work in a club as a host in between; I’ve met so many amazing people Blair you’re going to love them!”

But I didn’t love them. The model friends we had met that night had been rude, snooty and gave me the side eye when they thought I wasn’t looking. I hated the posing and constant picture taking; I wanted to be on the dance floor making a fool of myself with my best friend, not worrying about my appearance.

I was so grateful when she finally suggested we leave and snuck away from her new friends.

Staggering back up the road with a chippy in hand, I felt euphoric; it was just the two of us chatting shit and acting like human beings. It was just me and my best friend. My feet ached and the room was spinning by the time we finally made it to bed, my squeezed into a pair of her pyjamas that were a size too small.

She lay next to me, scrubbing her face with a baby wipe. “I hope you had a nice night.”

I forced a smile. “It was great.”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying Blair.”

“It’s not that I didn’t enjoy myself, I just didn’t fit in.”

“You’ll always fit in around me,” she said, her words slurred. “I promise you that. I want you to be a part of my life. Always.”

“I want that too.”

The words were a relief; she still wanted me around, frumpy, awkward and boring me! And then, out of nowhere, she had leaned over and kissed me. Not just a peck, but a long, slow kiss that stunned me to stillness. She pulled away, laughed and then rolled over and went to sleep.

I lay awake for hours after, trembling on this very bed, wondering what the hell it had meant. She never mentioned it again, and I had chalked it down to drunkenness. I doubted if she even remembered. I hadn’t thought about it myself in a long time, but being there in her room, my heart began to break and I lay across the bed, sobbing.

Perhaps if I hadn’t let my emotions get the better of me, I would have realised that somebody was there. Somebody was watching me.

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Chapter Fourteen

        Sleep eluded me for the next few days. Every time I closed my eyes all I could see was Dayna pushing me, the world spinning out of control before my very eyes as I watched her stilettos click-clack away from view. I felt like I was in limbo waiting for the DNA results to come back and prove it was my blood on the shirt and not hers. Once they realised I was telling the truth, they would get off my back and start looking for the real killer. Had I lead Dayna straight into the killers’ arms that night? If I hadn’t lead her away to confront her, would she still have gone on to meet someone else? She told me she was going to see a real friend, had I driven her to gain comfort from someone who had ultimately killed her? I tossed and turned, like the guilt writhing in my stomach wishing for sleep to come, but it didn’t. I perused through messages and comments on the podcast website. Almost overnight, thousands had messaged me with support and questions. Of course, there was a few troll messages once people realised I had been taken in for questioning, but they soon stopped once I cleared things up in my last broadcast. Surrendering myself to the fact I wasn’t going to sleep tonight, I rolled out of bed and made my way over to the window. A cool draft wafted in as I cracked it open, signifying the end of our freakishly hot Summer, and I pulled my dressing gown tighter.

I leaned out the window and lit up a cigarette; Mum would absolutely kill me if she found out, but it was gone three and if I strained hard enough, I could hear her soft snores from down the hall. I inhaled, taking in the dense, black forest that sat before me. In the darkness, with the moon behind the clouds, it looked like the edge of the earth. A wall of trees, and then nothing, but I couldn’t shake the feeling something was watching me from the shadows. I jumped, as my phone vibrated on the windowsill, illuminating my face. It was the fake account again: Trouble sleeping?

I froze, cigarette balancing in the crevices of my lips. I peered out across the garden, the night completely still and silent, save for the distant call of an owl. I leaned out further, flinching as a bush rustled by Granda’s shed. Then nothing. My hands shook, as I took the cigarette from my mouth and tossed it to the ground, my vision fixed on the bush. There was no more movement, but deep down I could feel it; the prying eyes of someone watching from the abyss of trees.

*

I spent the next day at Sean’s farm, thankful for the change of scenery. I couldn’t take Mum’s watchful eye, Jamie nagging me to take my anti-anxiety medication and Granda’s surliness any longer. I knew Scott would be on shift, poking around clues in desperation that he could pin the crime on me like a tail on a donkey. Without him lurking around, I could breathe, up in the sprawling hills, riding on the tractor as Sean drove. Earlier in the year, I had helped him with delivering lambs on the farm, as a distraction once I had returned from hospital. There was something so soothing and emotionally uplifting in it, that I felt a sadness as we pulled up to their field and I found they were practically fully-grown. It is funny how time passes; it feels like dad was only here yesterday yet mum and Jamie had just celebrated their second anniversary. I could recall childhood memories, playing hide and seek with Dayna in the hotel as if I was still eight years old, but at the same time it felt like a lifetime ago. That was a different Dayna, but probably the same, naïve, immature Blair.

        “Are you alright?” said Sean, as the tractor clunked to a halt.

        I nodded, forcing a smile. “I guess.”

       He looked around as if someone might be eavesdropping, despite the fact we were miles from anywhere. “I know something that might cheer you up.”

       “What is it?”

        “Scott text me earlier… the DNA came back as a match for your blood. They believe you.”

I let out an exacerbated gasp, throwing myself towards and clutching him tight.

        I sighed. “That’s great news… why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

        He scratched the back of his head. “Must have slipped my mind.”

        I looked up at him, from the pillow of his chest. “Anything else.”

        “Umm… I really shouldn’t say any more than I have.”

         I pulled away from him, frowning. “Oh come on Sean! Your brother really shouldn’t be discussing details of the case yet here we are! Tell me what you know… please.”

        He chewed on his fingernails, avoiding my gaze. “They recovered a bunch of messages from someone Dayna was seeing regularly. It’s all through a fake account though and the IP couldn’t be traced; the guy knows how not to be found.”

         I sank back into the elevated seat. “Kind of a dead end, then?”

         “Maybe. Apparently it looks like a lot of their meet ups were in Inverness, so I think they’re looking into the people she was involved with there.”

          “I did think it was a bit weird nobody from her life there came to the funeral. No colleagues, no work friends, no… clients.”

          He nodded. “How much do you really know about her life there, Blair?”

          “Not much. She only let me visit once, most of it was just a drunken blur and the only people she introduced me to were almost too stupid to breathe, never mind cover up a murder.”

           “You sound jealous,” he laughed, a hint of spite to his voice.

            “Jealous? Of those airheads? Yeah right… they didn’t know her like I did.”

            “Just like I don’t know you how she did?”

He glared at me with bitter intensity.

             “What are you talking about Sean?”

              “It’s just… nothing. Forget about it.”

               “Tell me!”

               “Sometimes I just wish you thought of highly and as passionately about me as you do Dayna. She might have been a best friend once but frankly, she treated you like shite over the last couple of years. I wish you would see it. But you’re so obsessed with this image of Dayna you have in your head… Your Dayna died a long time ago, Blair. She changed and you’re too blind with obsession to see it.”

I felt my face flush with rage as I recalled Dayna’s words that night. “An obsessive little freak” that’s what she had called me.

           “How dare you!” I shouted, a little louder than I was anticipating. “You just had the cheek to call me jealous? You’re my boyfriend Sean and she was my best friend, it’s a different kind of love. Is it so bad if I want her to be remembered for the goodness in her?”

              He mumbled under his breath. “Sorry.”

              “Take me home,” I said, “I have somewhere I need to be.”

              “Like where?”

I didn’t answer him, because I knew he would stop me. I had to get out of Kirkleithen and dig a little deeper. It was time for me to find out what Dayna was really doing in Inverness, and who exactly she was spending her time with that would want to hurt her.

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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.

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Chapter Twelve

       Mum came hurtling into the hallway, screeching like a wild cat. “A search warrant? Audrey you can’t be serious!”

       Andrews’ maintained her stern poise. “I understand you’re upset Emily, but I am only doing my job.”

        “You can’t seriously think Blair had anything to do with this?”

        “I would like to think not but unfortunately the evidence suggests otherwise.”

       Granda appeared next, arms flailing. “Evidence? What bloody evidence? You’re on a witch hunt! Always poking around the wrong places!”

Andrews’ ignored him, turning instead to Macdonald who signalled for Clark, and another officer I didn’t recognise to follow him in.

       “Why don’t we all just go have a seat and wait for the police to do their job,” said Jamie, ushering us all into the living room. Mum sank into the sofa, where he joined her whilst Granda paced around the coffee table. I stood, silent, leaning against Granda’s armchair, listening to the heavy footsteps on the creaking floorboards above us.

        Mum chewed at her fingernails and shot me a concernced look. “Blair, are they going to find anything up there they shouldn’t?”

       Now I was the snarling wild cat. “You can’t be serious. Do you really think I’m guilty of something?”

       “I heard about your outburst at the shop the other day, you’ve clearly been off your meds, I-“

        “I’ve been emotional because my best friend was murdered for fuck sake! That doesn’t mean I murdered her!”

       Jamie jumped up. “Blair calm down. Your mother is just asking out of concern. You have been acting rather erratically-“

       “You shut your bloody mouth before I shut it for you!” Granda bellowed, causing Jamie to sink back into his seat.

        Mum lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “Blair whatever kind of trouble you are in, I’ll always support you but you need to be honest with me.”

        “Oh my god there is nothing to be honest about! You’re driving me crazy!”

        “It’s just,” Jamie began, “Your story from that night doesn’t really add up.”
        I sneered back at him. “What are you a cop now? What the fuck do you know?”

Mum opened her mouth to speak, but decided against it as Clark came in the room. I clenched my fist, digging my nails into my palm as I watched his smug, satisfied face upturn photo frames and rake through the drawers of the welsh dresser. I wouldn’t have put it passed him to plant evidence; anything to keep me away from his brother. Granda cursed under his breath as Clark squeezed past him and sniffed around the coffee table, tongue dangling out the corner of his mouth like a bloodhound.

        “Find anything?” Macdonald stood in the doorway, holding a plastic bag containing my laptop.

        “Hey, I need that!”

         He shook his head at me and grinned. “Not as much as we do. You’ll have to find another way to profit from your friends death for the time being.”

I leant back against the armchair, forcing my jaw shut. How dare he? Yes, since my coverage of Dayna’s death my listener numbers had skyrocketed, and yes, in turn I had made a few quid from ad’s and donations, but that had never been my intention. I was just trying to get to the bottom of things and honour Dayna’s memory. Mum shook her head and began to weep. Jamie wrapped his arm around her and I turned to face the window. The sun was setting now, casting an eerie orange glow across the sea. I was remaining calm on the outside, but really my heart was racing and vision blurring.

Evidence.

The police had evidence.

What evidence? Evidence of what? Did they really think I could have hurt her?

Dayna was taller than me, stronger than me, and a lot more sober than me that night. How exactly could I have had the strength or wherewithal to attack her? How could they think I would be so cruel as to snuff out the person I loved most in the world? Sure, she infuriated me at times and yes, perhaps I had felt abandoned by her. How could I not when she had failed to come visit me after my father died, only showing up after she’d learned of my attempt to end my own life? But she had also been there for me through all the bullying, breakups and bitchiness of high school. She made me see my own beauty and worth, and I loved her for that.

       “Macdonald get up here!” Andrews’ screech brought me back into the stifling hot living room. “I got something!”

My body went rigid as a corpse, hairs standing on end as if I’d just shoved a fork into a plug socket. Mum stared up at me wild eyed, biting her lip so hard she drew blood. We all stared up at the ceiling as frantic footsteps stomped above us, followed by muffled voices. Granda edged towards me, perching himself on his armchair and sighing.

        “Blair.” Mums voice was stern but calm. “What have they found?”

       “Nothing. I swear there’s nothing.”
        “Blair!”

        “Mum you have to believe me I didn’t hurt her.”

The footsteps began to move again, making their way out of my bedroom and thumping down the stairs. Macdonald entered first, followed by a solemn faced Andrews’ who clutched something in a clear bag. Macdonald made his way towards me, revealing a pair of handcuffs as he did so.

       “Blair Campbell, you are under arrest for the murder of Dayna Khalid.”

        Granda lunged at him, shouting over mums wailing. “You can’t do this! My granddaughter is not a murderer!”

         Jamie held Granda back. “Frank calm down. If she’s innocent she’ll be back home in no time.”

       “If? If! Get your dirty hands off me!”

Mum stood up from the sofa and made her way towards Andrews’, almost falling to her knees in prayer.

       “What did you find Audrey? What on earth could you have found that makes you think Blair is capable of this?”

        Andrews’ stared at the ground. “We have video footage we would like to question Blair about. And this.”

Andrews’ outstretched her arm, the package she was holding coming into full view. It was mums blouse; the one I had borrowed that night. The one I had hidden in my wardrobe so she wouldn’t see that I had ruined it with mud stains. Only, it was not mud stains at all. It was blood.

Featured

Chapter Eleven

The police station was less than half a mile down the street, but it felt as if I was running a marathon. The sun beat down on my neck and I couldn’t tell if the sweat soaking the back of my neck was from the heat or nerves. A wasp flew into my face as I ran, and I let out a squeal, swiping at it and knocking it to the ground. I stopped to grab my breath in the driveway of the station house, my chest wheezing from a worsening smoking habit and the lack of exercise I’d had of late. I stood for a moment, bent over slightly as I breathed heavily, going over my story in my head. What I was going to say to the police to free Jamal. I imagined Sergeant Andrews; good cop. She would look at me with wide-eyed understanding, her eyes probably rimmed with tears. Macdonald and Clark on the other hand – Bad cop and bad cop wannabee, respectively – would take in every word through a stern face. Macdonald would hound me with his alcohol-tinged breath; why did I not tell them sooner? What else was I hiding? I stood up straight and took a step towards the door when it swung open and Jamal exited.

        “Jamal!” I exclaimed.

        He looked taken aback. “What are you doing here?”

      “I’d heard you’d been taken in for questioning and I-“

I stopped myself. He was free. There was no reason for me to reveal what I was on my way to confess. What good would it do now?

       “I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”

       He looked around, as if somebody might be listening. “Let’s go for a walk and talk away from here?”

        I nodded. “Sure. Beach?”

We made our way down the dunes, cutting through the sharp, long grass and hopping over rocks the way we had done as children. When we finally reached the flat shore, I slid off my trainers and buried my feet into the warm sand. Flies danced around us as Jamal settled on a rock, his face forlorn and tired.

       “So what happened?” I said, avoiding his gaze. Instead, I followed my own finger tracing shapes amongst the shells as he spoke.

        “My father was able to prove that even though those messages came from his phone – he didn’t send them.”

        I ran my tongue along my lips, trying to remain nonchalant. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

        “My father got called away that night to the city – he had an emergency at work. In his haste to leave, he left his phone in the bar that night.”

         “So… they think it was someone drinking in the bar that night that sent them?”

          He nodded. “That’s about the jist of it.”

          “But hang on… you weren’t there that night, so why were they asking you about it?”

         He was silent for a moment. I looked up at him and he glanced away. “That’s the thing, they weren’t asking me about the message Blair… they were asking me about you.”

        I jumped up from artwork in the sand and to my feet. “Me? What about me?”

        He turned to face me. “Just… about your friendship with Dayna. Was the friendship completely platonic… did you ever seem…”

        “What? Seem what?”

        “Jealous of Dayna, or resent her. And perhaps a little… obsessed?”

         I shook my head in disbelief. “You’re kidding me? Was it platonic? Of course it was! I’m with Sean and Dayna was with… well we both know she had her fair share of men.”

        I began pacing back in forth and he placed his hand on my shoulder to stop me. “I know you would never hurt her Blair. The police probably know that too. I just wanted to warn you that they are probably going to come for you next. Just be honest and you’ll be fine.”

You’re wrong, I thought, honesty is only going to make me look guilty as fuck.

        He must have read something in my expression. “What is it?”

        I watched his face contort into concern, the sunlight bouncing off his thick, shiny hair. I couldn’t tell him. I didn’t want him to look at me with anything other than that concern and caring.

      “Nothing,” I reassured him. “I should get home.”

       He nodded. “Me too. It will be ok Blair, I promise. We have nothing to worry about – either of us.”

I wanted to scream that he was wrong, I had everything to worry about, but I said nothing.

*

Sean came for dinner that night. Normally, I would go up to his farm for dinner and see his mother, but I wanted to spend as little time around his cop brother as possible. As it turned out, dinner at my house was just as awkward. We all sat around the table, cutting into mum’s signature chicken stuffed with haggis, with lashings of whisky sauce, and sipping red wine. It was almost pleasant, until Jamie started quizzing Sean.

         “So Sean, how goes the farm work?”

         “Good thank you Mr Smith. It’s been tough with this dry weather we’re having; never a shortage of things to do.”

        “I see,” said Jamie, his mouth full of food, “Perhaps you could give Blair some work.”

         I tapped the table with my knife and fork. “This again?”

         Mum cut in. “Well honey, obviously Jamie’s not really suggesting you work on a farm. But it has been a while since you had some kind of an income. Perhaps it is time…”

         “My best friend was just murdered. You expect me to be creating CV’s and cover letters?”

        “I understand you’ve been through some trauma Blair. When you quit your job when your dad died-“

        “You mean when I lost my job because I tried to kill myself.”

Seans’ hand felt mine under the table and he gave it a squeeze.
        Mum flinched. “I gave you time to heal. But you can’t go on like this.”

        “Besides,” Jamie interjected, “You can’t just hide from the world every time you experience trauma. A job might help you cope better, take your mind off things.”

        “As I’ve said before, you’re not my fucking dad and it’s not your fucking business. I’m twenty years old I don’t need a new daddy or your opinion on how I should be living my life.”

        He was the one to slam his cutlery on the table this time. His nostrils flared as he shouted at me across the table. “Twenty years old and still living at home without a job!”

        Granda stood up and pointed a crooked finger at Jamie. “You! Enough! You don’t get to come into our house and shout at my granddaughter like this. She is always welcome here – job or no job!”

        Mum’s face had turned red with chagrin and rage. “This is Jamie’s house too dad!”

        “Yeh – you moved him in here without asking if I was ok with it!” I screamed. “You claim to be all caring, all understanding and then you do shit like that. You don’t give a fuck about me, or Granda or dads memory. All you care about is this patronising cunt!”

 The room fell silent, mum glaring at me whilst Jamie stared down Granda and Sean awkwardly prodded at his food with his fork. I had invited him here to escape his brother, but right now I would take PC Clark’s accusatory glances and mumbled snide comments over this. The sound of the doorbell shattered the awkward silence.

         “Perfect fucking timing,” Granda mumbled.

         I shot up from the table. “I’ll get it!”

I practically flew to the front door. If I had known what was waiting on the other side of the front door, I would have ran out the back instead.      

          “Blair Campbell,” Macdonald looked stern as ever, “We have a warrant to search your house.”

           I turned to Andrews’. “A warrant? Don’t you need to have like probable cause to get one of those?”

        She stared at me, her eyes the coldest I had ever seen them. “We have more than that, Blair. We have evidence.” 

Featured

Chapter Ten

       “Good evening Bloodlusters, I am here this morning to bring you and update on the murder of Dayna Khalid. I’d like to start by saying I am blown away by the response this has been getting. My little backwater podcast has gained so many more listeners in a matter of two days. So welcome all, as we go through what happened together. Yesterday we laid Dayna to rest in Kirkleithen Cemetery and the turnout was amazing. Mostly locals though – doesn’t it go to show that thousands of internet followers does not necessarily mean friends?”

I shook my head and stopped the recording. That sounded cold, I thought, I should edit that out. Or should I? The whole point I was trying to emphasise was how editing your life to look good on camera, doesn’t mean it is good. I decided to leave it in after all – nobody likes a hypocrite.

       I swung back around in my desk chair and leaned back into the microphone. “The cause of death was multiple stab wounds, although water in her lungs found during the autopsy suggests she was held under water for some time. It is believed that after partying with friends she was lured by somebody to her parents’ cabin in the woods where they killed her in the hot tub. At first, the investigation seemed to believe it was an “online client” of Dayna’s, or possibly a secret lover. However, yesterday evening her father was arrested after police traced threatening messages she had received back to his phone. Did Dayna’s father really do it? Was it a crime of passion in the heat of the moment? Or was it a calculated and planned attack to keep his family honour? I’ll be bringing you updates as they happen. Let me know what you think in the comment section. Until next time, stay safe.”

I set the podcast to upload and sat back in my chair, swinging it from side to side. I should feel relieved; they had the killer, right? But a nagging feeling in my chest told me something was wrong. Mr Khalid had a temper, sure, but would such a family driven man really kill his own daughter? As if in response to my own musings, my phone vibrated to tell me I had a message. It was an Instagram direct message, from a seemingly unused profile with a username I instantly recognised: RejectedVexFan. My heart began to thump so hard I could hear reverberating in my own ears. The police had mentioned a similar username when they had questioned me.  A hot chill ran down my spine as I opened the message.

Blair. I know who RejectedVex is. The police have the wrong man. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I’m just glad that bitch got what she deserved.

I stared, baffled, jaw hanging open for a moment. My secret was safe with them? What secret? What did they know?

Who are you???

They instantly began to reply. I stood, shaking, waiting for an answer.

Your guardian angel. I hid the evidence, don’t worry.

I quickly responded:

What evidence??

There was no response.

Hello?

???

I began pacing my bedroom, the floorboards creaking with each anxious step. Was it true? Could somebody really know what I had done? If they did, I sure as hell looked guilty of something. I couldn’t take this, the fear, the anxiety, the trembling. I made a dash for the bathroom and threw open the medicine cabinet. Jamie had renewed by prescription – I guess he was good for something after all. I swallowed two pills, leaned over to take a drink straight from the tap and then stood up. I jumped as I closed the medicine cabinet; mums concerned, wrinkle framed eyes were staring at me in the reflection.

       She raised a brow. “You ok?”

       I dug my nails into my hand, willing the tremors to stop. “Fine.”

       “Good.” She forced a smiled. “You can head down to the shop and get me some milk then.”

        I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I could use the fresh air anyway.”

I pushed past her and went down the stairs and out the front door. The uncharacteristically hot Summer was still in full swing. The sky was a never-ending scroll of blue, unmarred by clouds, joining with the sea and scrolling on forever. It was such a clear day you could just make out the silhouette of the Isle of Sky far out on the horizon. I took in a deep breath as I admired the view, my heart rate finally dropping as I flip-flopped down to the shop. It wasn’t until I was about to enter that I realised I hadn’t faced Jeannie Laird since I had attacked her son in the street. I hovered for a moment, contemplating turning around when she caught sight of me through the door. Her face erupted into a wide grin and she waved frantically at me. I sighed with relief and entered, a bell jingling above the door.

        “Blair my dear, what are you doing lurking out there like that?”

         “I was worried you’d be annoyed about… well you know, I did accuse Callum of murder.”

 I began to peruse the shelves as we spoke.

        She waved her hand as if shaking it off and tutted at me. “Don’t be silly my dear. Tension are running high in Kirkleithen at the minute. You lost your best friend – of course, you were not thinking straight. It doesn’t help that my boy isn’t exactly innocent either.”

        I froze, looking up from a shelf full of chocolate and sweets with wide eyes. “What do you mean?”

        “The affair of course. If he hadn’t of been playing away with Dayna then he wouldn’t have had half the village pointing fingers at him.”

I regained my composure, letting out a long, exacerbated breath. Of course, that was what she meant.

        She continued. “It’s always the boyfriend everyone looks at first – was the same with your Grandad when Margaret disappeared. Of course, I always knew he would never hurt her. He worshipped the ground she worked on you know. Good man your Grandad, makes me sick to my stomach that anyone would think him capable of that. It stays with you, even if there is no evidence, you will always be a potential killer in the eyes of the community. I don’t know how your Grandad didn’t just up and leave!”

       I shrugged. “Grandma, then along came mum. He’s never been one to worry what others think of him.”
       “You’re right there.”

        “I hope Callum’s reputation hasn’t been ruined.”

        Jeannie shook her head. “Nah he’s fine, can’t say the same for his marriage though. She’s filing for divorce!”

I turned and pretended to be interested in the ingredients of a tin of soup to hide my smirk. At least somebody was getting their comeuppance.

         She continued, as if unaware that I hadn’t responded. It often went like this once Jeannie was off on one of her tangents. Sean always joked that she could simultaneously win and lose a debate with herself. “I wish they’d hurry up and find who did it though. First they question Hannah and my Callum, then the father and now the brother.”

        “Brother!?”

        “Yes Jamal. The police took him in for questioning this morning.”

The incessant throbbing of guilt began to build in my chest again. Jamal was now a suspect? This wasn’t right. Abandoning the small collection of chocolate bars and the pint of milk I had collected, I raced out of the shop and towards the police station. This wasn’t right. I had to come clean.

Featured

Chapter Nine

       Dayna’s funeral was a couple of days later, and at first, I was reluctant to attend. The look of rage in Mr Khalid’s eye, the way he had thrown me out of the hotel; would he throw me out of her funeral as well? The night before her funeral, I was washing up the dishes from dinner when there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find Jamal, Dayna’s older brother, dressed in a black thobe. The golden hour of the evening highlighted his perfect, angular features and his tired eyes were almost a perfect match for his sisters. I threw my arms around him, holding back a sneeze as his aftershave tickled my nose.

       “Hey Blair, it’s good to see you.”

       I pulled back from the awkward embrace and shot him a solemn smile. “You too, if only it were under different circumstances. What brings you to my house?”

       He sighed. “I heard about what happened between you and my father and came to apologise.”

       “You don’t have to apologise for the actions of a grieving father. I get it.”

      “Well, my mum wanted to be sure you weren’t going to let it stop you coming tomorrow.”

       I hesitated. “I don’t know… I don’t want to piss your dad off anymore.”

       “Look I get it – it’s awkward. To be honest, I was pretty pissed off when I heard her dirty secret. It’s shameful and my dad is embarrassed so I get why he’s so angry. But I also understand why you did it – Dayna’s dead; any information that can help bring her killer to justice should be out there.”

His voice broke on the word “killer”, but he remained composed, as always. Jamal was always the pride and joy of the family; law degree, devout Muslim – he had not shunned university and his father’s way of life the way Dayna so vehemently had.

        “I had prepared a eulogy and everything like your mother had asked, but I don’t know Jamal…”

       His eyes widened. “Please Blair. You know it’s what Dayna would have wanted.”

       “But not your dad.”

       He laughed. “My dad didn’t even want her body autopsied, or for her to be buried up here. He wanted her taken to the Mosque he attends in Inverness, but mum put her foot down – she wanted her buried close by, with her best friends sharing their memories of her.”

       “It amazes me the one person your dad is scared of is your mum; the most gentle woman on the planet.”
        He nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “You’re right, you know. So you’ll come then?”

        “Of course, for your mum – and Dayna. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

*

The eulogy was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I could feel the prying eyes of everyone in the rows of benches before me, some occasionally sniffing into a tissue. There was the odd muted rumble of sympathetic laughter as I told old stories of Dayna and I growing up, sighs as I declared what a travesty it was that she be taken from us, and a few garbled sobs as I broke down at the end. I could barely finish, as I listed all of the ways I would miss her and how much I loved her. It was the encouraging smile from Granda that kept me going. He had done this for two people he loved; Margaret and Granny, I could do it for one.  I was glad when it was over and I could step down and back into the crowd. Mrs Khalid read a poem next, then Jamal said a few words, all the while her white coffin adorned with roses and a large print of her favourite headshot sat centre stage. All too soon, we were piling outside and lead to her final resting place

Something felt inherently wrong about standing around an empty grave in the scorching Summer sun, shielding our eyes to watch the procession. My Dad’s funeral had been a dreich, grey day, cold and unwelcome. Grandma’s had been a wet, soggy affair with a thick fog that followed. Today, the smell of suntan lotion lingered in the air amid mumbles of how ridiculous it was to be dressed in black in this heat. I stared out over the sea of heads in the graveyard and down to the beach it overlooked. Longing for a moment to be splashing amongst the waves in the bay.

The whole village had turned up and some of their extended family; I noted a distinct lack in any of Dayna’s pretty model “friends” from her Instagram photos. I avoided Mr Khalid’s gaze as he passed me, coffin balanced on his shoulder. Mrs Khalid let out a whimper as we watched it lower into the ground and I felt a firm squeeze on my arm.

       It was my mum, biting her lip, clutching my arm and mumbling “It’s ok darling.”

 Sean stood on my other side, stoic and quiet with a loose grip on my hand. When all was said and done, most of the crowd dispersed and headed towards the hotel. I stayed, peering down into the dirt hole that housed her coffin.

       “Are you coming to the wake?” A voice from behind me broke my concentration.

        “Oh, Mrs Khalid… I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

       She took my hand and squeezed it. “I want you there.”

The two of us stood in silence for a moment, staring down at the casket.

       “She really loved you Blair, you were always there for her.”

I sniffed, willing the tears to stop trickling down my face. Dayna would be black affronted by my smudged mascara.

       I cleared my throat. “I loved her too. I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.”

       “Well let’s start with a gathering of friends in remembrance of her, ok?”

I nodded, letting her guide me up the steep road towards the hotel. A police car, blue lights flashing, suddenly over took us. We watched as it sped towards the Breakwater and skidded to a halt by the front door. Three bodies piled out of the car, two of which made their way inside.

        Mrs Khalid frowned. “Really? Today of all days?”

We picked up our pace, before breaking into a sprint towards the hotel. There were shouts and screams coming from inside as the crowd parted like something from the bible. Sergeant Andrews ran towards us, wild eyed.

        “Sara I’m so sorry. I begged that bloody inspector to wait – said it wasn’t appropriate today-“

         Mrs Khalid threw her hands into the air. “What’s going on Audrey?”

She did not have time to answer. With PC Clark on one arm, and Detective McDonald on the other, Mr Khalid was dragged through the crowd, screaming in protest before being shoved into the back of the police car.

       “What is the meaning of this?” Sara demanded.

        Andrew’s couldn’t even look her in the eye. “I’m afraid your husband… your husband is under arrest… on suspicion of murder.”

Featured

Chapter Eight

I lay in bed that night, the drawl of the radio downstairs relaying the facts of Dayna’s murder. Facts that were wrong, facts that contradicted the news report on the TV a mere hour earlier. I stood up and slammed my bedroom door shut, desperate to drown out the noise. To drown out the speculation. As I made my way back to bed, zoned out like a zombie from the anti-anxiety meds I had taken after my talk with the police, my eyes fell on my laptop. I thought back to all the murders I had researched over the years for “The Murder Sessions”. I always spent hours poring over the details, meticulously cross-referencing everything to make sure there were no contradictions between articles. How could two local reporters not even get this right? One had reported Dayna was an aspiring actress and the other had reported she had drowned. How difficult was it to get your basic facts rights?

I thought for a moment that I should set them straight; I had received an email from a fan sending their condolences over the loss of my friend, asking if I would cover her death in the podcast. At first I had felt repulsed, absolutely not:  I didn’t want Dayna’s death to become a spectacle. It was too late for that now.

There were news vans parked up all over the village; outside the hotel, the store, even at the end of our street. A helicopter had passed over earlier in the day; a sight usually only seen in the skies above Kirkleithen if someone needed airlifted to hospital, or had gotten lost in the surrounding mountains. Curious as to whether they had left yet, I padded through to the spare room on the opposite end of the hall and peered out the window. The view up towards The Breakwater confirming what I suspected: the vans still sat there, nestled together. Like little vultures in their metal nests waiting for their next prey. God forbid they miss a shot of a bereaved mother leaving her home, or a grief stricken father getting into his car.

I balled my hand in to a fist, looking away from the vans and across the bay. I could just make out the radio shack from here, the rhythmic illumination from the lighthouse bouncing off the yellow police tape every few seconds.

       “What are you doing in here poppet?” Granda’s voice made me jump.

       “I was just wondering if those news vans had left yet.” I slipped away from the window and turned to face him.

       “Ah they’ll leave once they catch wind of something more interesting in Inverness. Give it a couple of days. It was the same back in the day – journalists and reports sniffing around here like dogs.”

       “Did you ever speak to them?”
       He blew a sharp breath through his nose. “Aye. And the bastard twisted everything I said. That’s what first led people to suspect me! A load of bullocks it was. You want my advice? Stay away from them.”

       I nodded, sinking into the spare bed that was barren of its sheets. Mum insisted on cleaning them every week even though nobody had slept on them for years.

      “They can’t even get the simple facts right about what happened to Dayna.” I said, thinking aloud really. “Do you think it would be wrong of me to do a podcast about it Granda? In Dayna’s honour – to get the truth out there. Not warped facts and rumours.”

       He shot me a smile. “I think that would be a great idea. Your mum wants you to distract yourself and take your mind off it but I know you. I think you’ll feel better doing something like that.”

       “Thanks Granda. You’re right.”

Without another word I marched back through to my desk, opened up my laptop and plugged in my mic. It wasn’t as high quality as the one I stored at the shack, but as it was a crime scene, I wasn’t allowed to remove any of my equipment for the time being. I would have to make do with my old mic, the one I had used when the podcast had started out.

Just as I loaded up the recording software, a flock of gulls flew passed the window, screeching and cawing. I moved over to the window and was about to pull it shut when a shadow in the trees caught my eye. It froze when it realised it had been spotted, the light from the kitchen window reflecting in it’s eyes. It slowly retreated back into the trees. I took a deep breath, telling myself it was only a fox or a badger, before pulling the window shut and taking my place back at the desk.

       I cleared my throat. “Good evening Bloodlusters. I apologise for my unexpected hiatus but as some of you may be aware… my good friend and once host of “The Murder Sessions” Dayna Khalid, was found dead on Friday. It is with a heavy heart that I am recording this, but with the amount of speculation and rumours going around, I owe it to our friend to set the record straight. Dayna, for those of you who may not know, was a twenty-one year old model and social media influencer. Dayna’s father was from Dubai, but she was born in London where she was raised. We first met when we were six years old. Her grandparents owned the hotel in my village and she would spend Summer holidays here. Over the years, we became close friends and when she finally moved up here for good at the age of fourteen, after her grandparents retired, we became inseparable. We went to school together, spent our weekends together – hell, we started this podcast together. However, when Dayna turned eighteen she moved to the city to pursue her career, but not even the physical distance could pull us apart.

But unfortunately, our story takes a dark turn. She came home on Friday to visit me, we actually recorded an episode of the podcast for old times sake, that I will release at a later date. That night was just like the old times, we drank, we partied… and then we parted ways.”

       I stopped for a moment, my voice breaking as I held back tears. “After I went home, Dayna went to meet somebody. The details at this point are still hazy, but we believe she met a lover at her parents cabin just outside of town. Four days later I found her body… she had been stabbed to death, my beautiful best friend… Police believe she was killed in the hot tub, due to the high amount of fluid in her lungs. Currently, there are no known suspects. However…”

       I hesitated. Should I say what I was about to say? It might help, I thought, a listener might hear it and know of someone she was seeing. “Dayna frequented websites such as FanPics, and it is possible it was a client from such a site that she was meeting with. I beg you, if anyone out there knows something, or someone, who may know anything about what happened that night, please come forward. We owe it to Dayna to find the bastard who did this and bring them to justice. I promise to keep you up to date with nothing but the facts. Until next time, stay safe.”

I saved the file and went to upload it. My finger hovered over the mouse pad for a second; was this disrespectful? Would it piss people off? Click. Too late. It was out there now.

*

The next day, there was still no updates on Dayna’s case. The post-mortem on Margaret had come back inconclusive: her bones showed no sign of what had killed her all those years ago. There was going to be a small ceremony to finally lay her body to rest.

Sean appeared at my door in the late afternoon; I was sprawled across the sofa reading all the comments and emails regarding the podcast I had uploaded the night before. It was my most successful yet; over night I had received thousands of well wishes and hundreds of new followers. People from all over the United Kingdom were tuning into hear about the murder.

       “You’ll get cross eyed if you stare at that thing all day,” Sean had interrupted.

       I glanced up at his freckled face and forced a smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

       “I’m taking you out for dinner.”

       I shook my head. “Seriously? You think I want to go out and celebrate?”

       He gestured towards the kitchen, where mum was humming as she mopped the tiles with vigour. “We need to talk.”
       “We can talk here.”
       He lowered his voice. “I’ve got some information about Dayna.”
       I shot up, throwing my phone down. “What do you mean?”

       “I’ll tell you over dinner, come on. You need to stop wasting away at home.”

       I pointed to my makeup free face and unwashed hair that was tousled into a bun. “I look like a tramp.”

       “You look beautiful to me. Lets go.”

       “Ugh… fine. But I’m ordering the langoustine.”

       “You don’t even like seafood!”

       “Aye but I’m making you pay for making me leave the house!”

I slipped on a pair of flip-flops and made my way out the front door. The sky was grey but the air was close and humid. Beads of sweat trickled down the back of my neck as we made our way to the only dining spot Kirkleithen had to offer; The Breakwater. I had hoped to see Mrs Khalid behind the bar when we entered, but found a member of her staff, Kelly, instead. No surprise, really, I wondered if anyone ever returned to working after losing a child.

        Kelly shot us a solemn smile. “Hi Blair, Sean. How you doing?”

       I shrugged. “As well as can be I suppose. How is Mrs Khalid?”

       Kelly shook her head. “As you’d expect. Here for food?”

       Sean nodded. “We are indeed. I’ll have a pint please, white wine for you Blair?”

My phone continually vibrating in my pocket distracted me: more notifications of new followers of “The Murder Sessions.”

      “Blair? Wine?”

      I stuffed my phone back into my pocket. “Sorry! Sure. Why not? Might as well drown my sorrows.”

      “Sit wherever you want, the place is dead… Uh, sorry.”

Sean made a beeline for the furthest away table by the window. I sat opposite him. His face was flecked with spots of mud, presumably from working on the farm, and I couldn’t help but smile.

       “You’re covered in mud,” I remarked. “You could have showered.”

       He pointed towards my hair. “Could say the same to you.”

       I giggled. “Cheeky shite. I’m in mourning. Speaking of… what did you want to tell me?”

He opened his mouth to talk but Kelly appeared with our drinks. She placed them on the table in front of us, along with a couple of menus. Not that we needed them, we knew the menu better than we knew each other.

      “Just shout over when you’re ready.”

      I shuffled impatiently in my seat. “Great, thanks. Will do.”

She made her way over to the bar and Sean leaned in towards me.

       “I was speaking to Scott about stuff. He was pretty tight lipped but he said Dayna was using sex sites!”

       I rolled my eyes. “Is that it? I know! I’m the one who told them.”

       He sat back in his chair and sighed. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t think you knew.”
       I frowned. “Of course I knew. I knew everything about her.”

       It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Well anyway, they have a couple of leads from those sites. They’ve traced the IP’s back to a couple of guys in Inverness. You’d think people had never heard of VPN’s before! Scott reckons it’s a dead end anyway…”

       “Why does he think that?”

       “He thinks it was someone in town that did it.”

      “Did he say who?”

       “YOU!”

We jumped, as the voice roared from the other side of the room. A tall, bearded man in a business suit came barrelling towards us, his hand pointing at me. It was Mohammed Khalid; Dayna’s father.

      “YOU!” He bellowed again. Nostrils flaring, moustache flapping.

       I stood up from the table. “Mr Khalid-“

      “You have some nerve showing your face here! How dare you broadcast Dayna’s personal information like that!”

Ah, so he’d heard about the podcast.

       “Mr Khalid” Sean interjected, “I don’t think Blair meant anything by it. She’s just trying to help-“

       “Help? Help! By doing what? Dragging my babies name through the mud with these disgusting lies!”

As he stood in the middle of his own restaurant, veins popping out his forehead, I was transported back six years. Dayna had just turned fifteen and we were having a sleepover at the hotel.  She had decided we should sneak down to the bar after close and have ourselves a little nightcap.

       “Won’t your dad go mental if he finds us?”

       She had waved me off. “Pfft, he doesn’t scare me. Besides, he sleeps with earplugs in – he wont hear anything.”
Neither of us were any good at handling our drink at that age and we got carried away. We dared each other to take shots of random things behind the bar: i could still taste the burn of tequila on the back of my throat. The bitter tingle of AppleSourz on my tongue. We had nearly thrown up as the taste of Sambuca went up our noses. Dayna had put some music on the jukebox and climbed up onto the bar.

       Stepping over beer mats and the taps with the grace of a ballet dancer, she had flipped her hair and said: “Don’t you think I’d make a great dancer?”

        I giggled. “What? Like a stripper?”

She giggled, wiggled her hips and lost her balance. She let out a squeal and grasped at the wall mounted optics for support. They came away from the wall, sending her flying off the bar and onto the ground. I jumped from my bar stool, lost my balance and landed on my bum next to her. She sat up, regaining her breath before the two of us descended into hysterical laughter. We were interrupted by the bar door swinging open.

      “Dayna! What do you think you are doing?”

Mr Khalid had dragged her across the ground by her hair, pulled her up to her feet and sniffed the alcohol on her breath. I could remember the sobering effect of her screams as she begged him for forgiveness. I could remember the way he told her she was a disgrace to her family. But most of all, I could remember the sickening thud as he had smacked her across the face. His eyes flaring and teeth gritted, in the exact same expression he wore before me now.

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Chapter Seven

       I was back in the police stations interrogation room. It was humid and stuffy; the Summer storm hadn’t done much to clear the air. I was relieved that Officer Clark wasn’t there, but once I met the inspector they’d called in from Inverness, I would have done anything to have him back. Inspector David Macdonald was a bulky, cold looking man with harsh features. A lingering smell of alcohol from the night before wavered on his breath and the frown lines across his forehead mapped out a life of misery and frustration.

       His voice was raspy, suggesting a decades old smoking habit. “So, you were good friends with the victim?”

The term “victim” sent a shiver down my spine.

       I nodded. “Best friends since primary school. We used to play together in the school holidays when she came to stay. Once she moved up here we became inseparable.”

       His blank expression remained unchanged. “And I believe you’ve been withholding information that could be vital to your “best friends” disappearance.”

       I glanced at Andrews’ who met me with a look of guilt. “I didn’t think it was relevant until I found out the Lairds’ had been ruled out.”

       He raised an eyebrow. “And you think you’re more qualified than the police to ascertain what is and is not relevant in a murder investigation.”

        Yes.

       “N… No sir.”

       “So what was it you came here to tell us?”

       “About a year ago… I found out Dayna was using certain websites to make money. From men.”

       He tilted his head back and peered down at me. “What kind of websites?”

      “Cam sites. And one called fanpics.”

       Andrews’ face went pale. “You mean people paid her to get naked on camera?”

My stomach churned at the thought. Before I knew how she made her money, I would scroll through her various social media accounts; after she had moved to Inverness, it was often the only way I could keep up with what she was doing. Exotic holidays, shopping, cocktail parties; it was a wonder to me how she kept up with her lavish lifestyle, considering the modelling jobs were few and far between. I had quizzed her one night over FaceTime and she made a comment about how there were “people on the internet who were willing to fund her lifestyle, for little in return.” Curiosity got the better of me, and I had signed in to her emails (we shared everything – even passwords. Hers happened to be my date of birth) and was shocked at what I had found. It didn’t take me long to work out all the websites she was working on and find her “Fan Pics” account. I registered to her under a fake alias, I just had to know for sure, and became privy to a whole timeline of suggestive pictures containing either a scantily clad or naked Dayna. There were other subscriptions too, a live cam site, a website for finding “Sugar Daddy’s” and even an escort site – however she didn’t appear to have used that one other than registering for an account.

 I sent screenshots of everything to her, asking what the hell she was doing.

       Her text reply was blunt. “Making money. You stalking me or something?”

       I wasn’t sure if I was angry, upset or jealous of her confidence. “You are worth so much more than getting naked for creeps on the internet.”

       “It’s not just on the internet. LOL.”

        “You don’t mean? Dayna!?!?”

       “Relax. Don’t be such a priss. Just until I find my feet. Luv you, girl.”

       “I love you too. Just please be careful.”

I relayed all of this to the police, giving them the names of her accounts and websites, but Inspector Macdonald did not seem surprised by any of it.

       He ran his tongue over his chapped lips. “Did she ever tell you about any of the men she met up with in person?”

       I hesitated. I hated even thinking about what had happened. “Not often. About four months ago she called me in a right state. She’d met up with a guy from the Sugar Daddy website. They went for dinner and he seemed nice, but then they went back to his flat and he got a bit creepy. She didn’t feel safe so she tried to leave and he hit her. Luckily he was pissed as a fart and she managed to fight him off and get out.”

       “Jesus Christ…” I heard Andrews’ mutter.

       “Why didn’t she call the police?” Macdonald eyed me up and down, arms folded, as if examining a crime scene.

       “I begged her too, but I’m not sure everything she was doing was completely legal and she didn’t want to get in to trouble. It spooked her though, and she said she wouldn’t meet up with anyone anymore. That it was all just going to be online.”

       Andrews’ eyes lit up. “That adds up with the bank account. Those payments stopped for a while and then-“

       “Andrews!” Macdonald barked and the two of us jumped. “Why are you announcing details from the case to a civilian?”

       She dropped her head like a child scolded for talking in class. “I was just thinking aloud and confirming…”

       Macdonald stood up and towered over her like the enraged headmaster. “This is a murder investigation, Sergeant. I was summoned here for a reason – to help with your investigation. You can help yourself by not blurting out details to potential suspects.”

Summoned. It made him sound like some kind of demon or demi-god, but he was more like a shite genie that answered your worst nightmares instead of your prayers.

       I frowned. “Potential suspect?”

       “We can’t rule anything out at this stage. And you claim to be the last person to see her alive, don’t you?”
       “Well yeah, but that was before she was found wearing a fucking swimming costume and stinking of chlorine. She clearly went to meet someone at her dad’s lodge. So I’m pretty sure whoever she met there was the last person to see her.”   

       A smirk slowly spread across Macdonalds’ face. “Interesting that you know she was at the lodge that night. That information hasn’t been released to the public yet. Did you perhaps follow her there Blair?”

My jaw fell open. I couldn’t believe what this fucking alchy breathed arsehole was implying. It didn’t take a genius to deduce she had been there, and it had become hot town gossip overnight.

 I noticed Andrews’ eye twitch. She stood up from her seat and slammed her fist on the table. “That’s enough Macdonald! You might have been sent here to help, but this is still my station and we don’t go making baseless accusations towards witnesses here. Now, Blair came here to tell us what she knew. Yes, she should have told me days ago and it was damn stupid of her to keep it from me, but she’s here now. I won’t have you using your scare tactics on her.”

       I shot Macdonald a smug smile as I stood up to leave. “That’s everything I know, so if you’ll excuse me I’ll be leaving now. Unless you want to charge me with murder or whatever?”

       He glared at me with his eyes of stone. “There is just one more thing.”

       “Oh! Right! Blair… do you recognise the username “RejectedVex”.”

       My body turned stiff. “N… No I.. I don’t think so.”

       Macdonald arched his brow. “You don’t seem so sure about that.”

       “Why? Who are they?”

       “That’s what we’d like to know, “said Andrews’. “That’s who we believe Dayna went to meet at the lodge.”

       I bit my lip. “No idea. Sorry.”

I felt Macdonald watching me as I made my way to the door. He did not believe me, and he had good reason not to.

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Chapter Six

I had always read about people in shock thinking and doing bizarre things, but this was the first time I had experienced it. As I bent over her listless body, tears falling,!all I could think about was how she was wearing red. Dayna hated red; she always decried it as “not her colour.” It took a few moments for me to realise she was, in fact, wearing white. A white swimsuit that had turned almost completely scarlet with blood. In the moment, it didn’t even strike me as odd that she be dressed in swimwear and it took a good few minutes for me to compose myself and call for help. I exited the station and sat in the long grass staring blankly out to sea as I called Sergeant Andrews. Then Sean. Then my mother.

It didn’t take long for word to get out and a handful of onlookers had gathered before the police even arrived. Someone, I didn’t take in who, had placed a jacket over my shoulders as I sat rocking and weeping in silence. By the time the police arrived, a Summer storm had hit, the kind of rain that roars like a lion and floods roads within minutes.

I watched as Andrews’ and Clark forced the radio shack door open. Clark gagged and wretched as the smell hit the back of his throat, while Andrews’ radioed for a vehicle to come and take the body away. She could barely look at it. At her. The nosy onlookers edged closer, the rain fell harder and I felt frustration building within me. The two of them, Kirkleithen’s finest, may as well have stood scratching their heads. Between the rain and the sick fucks trying to get a peek in the shack, any foot prints or evidence could be being trampled on or washed away. Eventually, Andrews’ grew irate at the onlookers and asked them to stay back whilst they secured the crime scene. Not before time.

       “Blair!” afamiliar voice broke through the sound of the lashing rain. It was Dayna’smother, the crowd stepping aside as she careened towards me.

       She grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. “Is it her? Blair is it really her?”

I opened my mouth to answer but only a strange squeakingsound came out. I nodded, breaking into a sob. She clung to me, weeping andwailing until Mr Khalid, Dayna’s father caught up to her. He took his brokenwife into his arms and buried his face into her neck.

This was horrible. A nightmare. I felt a sudden sick guilt as I thought of all the murders I had ogled at online over the years. It was a hobby, a curiosity, but not once had I realised just how devastating those deaths might have been to other people. Was this my punishment?

It took almost an hour for the ambulance to arrive from the city and collect the body. Mum had arrived at the scene and was begging me to come home. I was soaked through and shivering, but I couldn’t peel myself away.

“She’s in shock.” I heard Jamie say.

“Poor dear, I can’t imagine how she must feel.” Mrs Laird from the local shop was murmuring to the crowd.

Dayna was finally wheeled out in a body bag and packed into the back of the van. As the crying onlookers stared perversely, I agreed to go home.

I felt numb and utterly heartbroken all at the same time. It was like dads death all over again, only worse. We knew his death was coming, it was slow and had left us time to prepare. Dayna was stolen from us, suddenly and with violence. How the fuck did you process something like that? I knew there was no way I would sleep naturally that night, so once I was home and warm I accepted a tablet from Mum and fell asleep on the sofa as she stroked my hair.

I was wakened late the next morning by the doorbell ringing. I felt groggy and heavy from the sleeping pill as I sat up. Granda appeared in the living room doorway with Sean behind him. He ran towards me and wrapped me in his embrace. I sank into his chest, taking in the sweet smell of freshly cut grass that lingered on his t-shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” he eventually whispered into my ear.

My voice was hoarse and weak. “This can’t be happening.”

I slipped out from his arms and sat back against the sofa.

“My brothers’ been at the station all night interviewing Hannah and Patrick.”

“So… you think they did it?”

“Sounds like the police like them for it. Enough to keep them in all night for questioning.”

I balled my hand into a fist. “I’ll fucking kill them.”

Sean said nothing, he just sat and chewed his lip.

“We should go for a walk, clear your head.”

I shook my head in protest.

“That sounds like a great idea.” Mum had come into the room unannounced. “The fresh air will do you good and I need a few messages from the store.”
I glared from Sean to Mum before sighing in defeat. “Fine. Let me go get changed.”

I lumbered up the stairs, the hushed, concerned voices of Mum and Sean fading with each step. I rummaged around in my wardrobe for ahoodie to wear, pulling at the top shelf. The blouse I was wearing that night fell from its hidey-hole and landed in my hands. As I stared down at the mud stained silk, Dayna’s voice filled my head.

“Jesus Blair, would you just piss off? It’s none of your damn business.”

“But you promised me you weren’t doing this cam girl stuff anymore. Do you know how dangerous it could be; especially now I hear you’re dishing out your number to these creeps?”

“You’re just jealous. Keep your beaky nose out of it!”

“Jealous! Of what exactly? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means you obsessive little freak.”

I remembered the hurt and the rage I felt as she spoke those words. I had snapped and tried to push her over, but I’d slipped down the grassy verge and landed face first. I lay there for a minute or so, my vision blurry with alcohol and pills as she stormed away from me. That was the last time I had seen her.

*

Sean and I spent the afternoon meandering along the beach, skipping stones and silently keeping one another company. I didn’t want to talk about it, or anything. I knew my silence was making him uncomfortable, but just having him there made me feel as if I wasn’t completely alone.

“I’m thirsty.” I finally broke the silence and his face lit up with relief.

       “Let’s head upto the shop and get you something. Have you even eaten today?”

“Not hungry.”

We clambered up the steep sand dunes, the radio shack coming into view at the other side of the bay. It was surrounded in bright yellow tape, as if someone had highlighted it like a quote in a textbook. I cast my gaze away, the memory of the smell and the coldness of her body burning in my mind.

“You know what was weird about Dayna’s…. body.”

        “What?”

“She was wearing a swimming costume and she was stinking of chlorine. Why the hell would she be dressed like that?”

“She went missing around midnight right? Obviously, she wasn’t swimming at the community hall at that time. Maybe she went for a dip in the sea?”
I scoffed. “And risk the salt water drying out her hair? Besides, the sea doesn’t leave you stinking of chlorine.”

       “You have apoint… hey don’t her parents have a hot tub?”

My eyes widened. “Yeah, they have their lodge a couple miles out of town with a hot tub…”

What if she had gone to meet Patrick there? Maybe she had enticed him there to chat after the bust up with Hannah and things had turned…

Sean’s voice broke my train of thought. “Aw shit. Come on let’s go.”
We had almost reached the shop, and coming out of it was Patrick himself. It was as if my thoughts had conjured him.

I grasped Sean’s hand tight. “I thought you said he was in custody?”

“He… he was. They must of…”
I dropped his hand and marched towards Patrick.

“Hey you!” I screamed, “What the fuck are you doing showing your face around here?”

Patrick flinched, his blue eyes looked red raw and his stupid curly hair was stickingout all over the place.

“Blair…” he began.

“Don’t fucking speak to me you fucking bastard! How could you? How could you? You should be locked up for life!”

“Blair calm down! I didn’t hurt her!”

I lunged at him. “You’re a liar!”

My voice echoed up the street as I hit his chest with myhand, my limbs flailing. Soon, I felt Sean pulling me back from him and I screeched as Patrick slunk away towards his car.

       “Blair!”Another voice echoed around us. It was Sergeant Andrews.  Sean let go of me and I did my best tocompose myself, but I couldn’t stop my body trembling.

“Why is he not locked up?” I demanded, pointing towards his car as it tore away down the road.

Audrey Andrews looked as if she pitied me. “Because he didn’t do it. He has an alibi Blair.”
My jaw fell open. I was sure he had done it. It made the most sense to me.

Sean took my hand in his and squeezed it. “So if it wasn’t Patrick… who was it?”

She looked away, as if ashamed. “At the moment we don’t have any leads. I know this is hard on you Blair but you can’t go around attacking everybody we question. We’ve called in a more… experienced detective from Aberdeen to take a look at the case.”

I chewed at my fingernail, processing all the information I had just received. It was pretty obvious to me Dayna had been at her parents cabin. If she wasn’t meeting Patrick then just who was she meeting? I thought back to our argument before she left me lying in the dirt that night. I had to say something. It’s not like she was going to come back from the dead and berate me for giving away her secret.

“Sergeant Andrews,” I said, “I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely honest with you. I think I know who hurt… who could have killed Dayna.”

Featured

Chapter Five

      Mum insisted we have a “nice, family dinner” that night. I helped set the table, listening to Dayna’s parents give an emotional appeal for her safe return on the radio as I did so. I glanced over at mum who was dishing up, her eyes filling with tears.

       “Blair will you please turn that off? A change of subject at dinner would be nice.”

I opened my mouth to protest but Granda glared at me as if to say, “just do it”. I marched over to switch off the radio before taking my place at the table.

       “That smells delicious Emily!” said an over enthusiastic Jamie, as mum placed the food down in front of him before setting down to eat herself.

I watched from across the table as he took a furtive bite of the mince on his fork. His mouth twisted into a grimace, accentuating the scar that poked out from his hairline. Liar. He thought the mince was rank.

       I pointed my fork up at his head. “How’d you get that scar on your head?”

      Mum hissed at me from behind a glass of wine. “Blair! Don’t be so rude.”

      Jamie laughed. “Don’t worry Emily, she’s just curious. It was an accident when I was an infant. I fell down the stairs and split my head open. Needed fifteen stitches.”

      “Huh,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “You know a lot of serial killers suffered head wounds in their early childhood. A lot of experts think-“

       Mum slammed her glass onto the table, shattering it into pieces. “Blair! Enough! I am sick of you talking about this morbid nonsense!”

Jamie jumped to her side, checking her hand for cuts. I glared at her, the smell of the red wine seeping into the tablecloth wafting towards me.

       “So what am I allowed to talk about? We aren’t allowed to talk about dad, Margaret Mullins being found, Granny… death is all around us mum. Whether you like it or not!”

       Jamie stood up tall and placed his hands on his hips. “I think you need to calm down Blair, you’re upsetting your mother. Have you taken your anti-anxiety tablet today?”

      I threw my own chair back and it tipped back, landing on the tiles with a thud. “Don’t you dare fucking speaking to me like that!”

       Granda, who had been watching, jumped up next. “Come with me. Come on you’re ok.”

He gently took my arm and led me out to the back garden, gesturing for me to sit on the back step. He followed, albeit it took him a lot longer to perch himself down. He reached into his pocket, pulled out pack of cigarettes and thrust them towards me.

      “I don’t smoke, Granda.”
      “Bull shit. Do you think I haven’t smelled smoke off you before? Take one and calm down.”

       I smiled. “Not much gets passed you does it?”

       “What was that about back there? You shouldn’t shout at your mam like that.”

      “I’m fed up of walking on eggshells, making sure we don’t say anything offensive or god forbid mention my Dad in front of the fucking pharmacist. My best friends missing and she expects me to go on as if everything is normal. Nobody fucking understands.”

       He took a long draw from his cigarette. “You’re forgetting I know exactly how you feel. I was in your shoes once.”

       “You’re right… I’m sorry I haven’t even asked you how you’re doing. Has there been any news on how she… how she died?”

       “Too early to tell. It’ll take a while for the autopsy results to come back. Hopefully then the old rumours about me will finally be put to rest.”

       I threw the end of my cigarette on the ground and stubbed it out. “That’s if tweedle-dumb and tweedle-dumber down at the station don’t lose the results or something. They’re fucking useless. Already talking about Dayna as if she’s dead. It’s like everyone’s given up on finding her.”

       “I understand your frustration but taking it out on your mum isn’t going to help. Why don’t you go record one of your podcasts? Distract yourself.”

       “You’re right. I’m not doing it here though, I’m going to the radio station.”

       He nodded. “Be back before it gets dark.”

       I stood up to leave and was almost out of the gate when he called me back. “Blair…”

       I turned to face him hobbling towards me. “What is it?”

       “You sure you don’t know any more about what happened to your friend?”

He stared at me with an intense look that almost looked angry.

       I hesitated, thinking about the information I was withholding. “No. Nothing.”

       He ran his tongue over his lip. “Ok. If that’s what you say, I believe you. See you when you get back.”

I left by the side of the house instead of through the kitchen. I didn’t want to see mum or Jamie right now. The old radio station sat about a mile out of the village, abandoned and deteriorating. Once upon a time, it had been Granda’s job to broadcast weather forecasts to the local anglers and farmers, but digital radio had seen to its demise. Now, nobody went there except me. Granda had given me his key and I had set up microphones and a PC for recording my podcasts. It was my safe haven; sometimes I would go just to sit and escape home.

The first time he let me use it, Dayna and I had pretended we were popstars and feigned our own radio talk show. Over the years it became a place for us to meet and come of age; we had our first drink there and first “dates” with boys. I had even had my first kiss with Sean there, after being encouraged by Dayna just to “go for it”. The place was damp, the woodwork cracking and slaters were beginning to take up residence, but it was mine.

The night Dayna went missing, we had recorded a podcast before going out. Not at the shack, of course. In my bedroom so she could do her hair and makeup whilst she half-heartedly discussed crimes of passion with me.

       I remember the disapproving look on her face as she brushed her hair in the mirror. “I can’t believe you’re still doing this. I could understand if it had taken off and you were making money, but…”

       I had gotten defensive. My podcast was my baby. It was the only productive thing in my life, post-suicide attempt.  “It can take years for these things to take off! That’s why I thought inviting you back on it would help get it out there. My most successful episodes are the two you feature on. All you have to do is share it to your followers and I’m sure…”

      “I told you I would think about sharing it. It doesn’t really fit my brand.”

      I rolled my eyes at the mention of her “brand”. I lay across my bed on my stomach and fluttered my eyelashes at her reflection. “Please… you’d do it for your best friend, wouldn’t you?”

       She pursed her lips before breaking into her beautiful, warm smile. The smile that always made me feel calm and happy, no matter my previous mood. “Fine. Only because it’s you.”

She had not had a chance to share the podcast after we recorded it. We had rushed out to party, and now she was gone.

I glanced up at the hotel as I approached the radio station. No matter where you were in the village, it always felt as if it was looming over you, casting a shadow across the entirety of Kirkleithen. Especially at this time of the evening when the sun was low. I took my keys out of my pocket as I reached the front door of the station but I soon realised it wasn’t necessary. The lock had been broken and the door was slightly ajar. Rage filled my chest, then panic. If someone had broken in, they had more than likely taken my equipment with them. I pushed the door, but met sudden resistance. I put my whole weight against the door and it gave enough for me to peer in. It was being blocked by a foot. A perfectly manicured foot.

       “Oh my god. Oh my fucking God.”

I eased myself into the gap and soon wished I had not. The air was heavy and pungent; it smelled as if someone had cooked a rotten pork joint in cheap perfume, with a hint of… was that chlorine I could smell? Flies danced around my head as I stared at the ground in silence, my jaw agape. My darling Dayna lay beaten and bruised, her long black hair dishevelled and tangled. Her deep brown eyes stared up at me in anguish, but there was no life behind them. I fell to the ground, clinging to her rotting yet beautiful corpse as reality set in. She was dead.

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Chapter Four

       I sat in the interview room of the station house, on the most uncomfortable chair imaginable. The atmosphere in the room was even more unsettling. Sergeant Andrews and Scott – sorry, Officer Clark – sat opposite me. Andrew’s expression was blank, making her impossible to read. Scott, on the other hand, eyed me with the same disdain he always did. He had never liked me seeing his brother, all because Dayna had rejected him in high school; that was somehow my fault. Whenever i would go to their house for family dinners, he would go out of his way to make me feel unwelcome. Apparently, he extended this same attitude to his place of work as well.

        Finally, Andrews cleared her throat and broke the silence. “You’re not in any trouble Blair. I just wanted to go over the events of the disappearance with you. We still have no leads on where she could be.”

Four days you’ve been missing and they’re only just calling me in for this? Idiots. I shouldn’t blame them of course; it’s not as if murder is a common occurrence they’d be experienced dealing with in Kirkleithen.

       I nodded. “Of course, fire away.”

       Andrews glanced towards the mirror on the wall, and I wondered if it was a two way one like in the movies. “Ok, Blair. Could you tell us exactly what you were doing that night?”
       “Of course. Dayna and I went for a drink at the bar. Sean and a couple of his friends were there and it got a little mental.”
       Andrews arched an eyebrow. “Could you explain what you mean by “mental”?”

       I shuffled in my chair, aware of Scott’s eyes boring in on me from across the table.  “There was… some drugs involved.”

       Andrews’ pursed her lips and shook her head. “Drugs? Where did those drugs come from?”

       Scott interjected. “I think I can answer that. Dayna brought the drugs, didn’t she?”

       Andrews’ shot him a cold stare. “Scott, can we let Blair answer the questions please.”

He grunted before leaning back into his chair and folding his arms across his chest.

       “He’s right,” I mumbled, avoiding her gaze. “Dayna brought the drugs with her.”

       “Did Dayna do drugs often?” Andrews’ leaned forward, her eyes widening, “Could she have been in trouble with a dealer?”

       I shook my head. “No. Some model friend gives her them. It’s not as if she’s some kind of junkie or that. She just takes them on nights out.”

       “So you took drugs. What happened after?”

       “Honestly, I don’t remember a lot after. We partied, I stumbled home to bed and when I woke up the next morning she was missing.”

Scott shook his head and rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

       Andrews’ tapped her pen off the table before locking eyes with me. “It’s come to our attention that there was an altercation with Dayna and Patrick Laird. Is this true?”

A smirk spread across Scott’s lips. Sean must have told his brother all about it already. Goddamit Sean, now it looks like I was withholding evidence.

I took a swig from the lukewarm coffee Andrews’ had served me when I arrived and shrugged.

       She dropped the pen on the table and let out an angered sigh. “Blair. If you are not honest with me then how do you expect me to find her? Who was she fighting with? Do you realise the longer she is missing the more likely she is to turn up dead?”

I clutched my fist tight around the handle of the mug. I realised more than any of these idiots how shit a job they were doing at finding her. I knew how the majority of these cases turned out. I also knew that if Dayna was still alive, she’d murder me for tarring her image with what I was about to tell Andrews’.

       I swallowed a lump in my throat before surrendering. “Dayna was seeing Patrick Laird behind Hannah’s back. They went off together last night, then Hannah turned up and it all kicked off.”

       “Was there violence?”

       “Nah, not violence really. Hannah was just raging. Called Dayna all the names under the sun while that creep Patrick stood back and said nothing. Dayna chucked them out and they left. Never saw them again after that.”

Scott arched an eyebrow. “You said you don’t remember much of the night, so how can you be sure you didn’t see them again?”      

I stared into my mug as if it held an answer. “I… uh… I guess I don’t.”

He spoke through a smug smile. “And how long has this affair being going on.”

       “I wouldn’t say it was an affair. It wasn’t like that.”

       Andrews’ scoffed. “Then what was it like?”

       “Patrick was forever messaging Dayna and putting it on her. Even after she moved away and he got engaged. Sometimes when she came home, they would get drunk and hook up. It wasn’t some big grand affair.”

       “That would be a motive for murder,” said Andrews, as if thinking aloud to herself.

       I began to tremble, slamming my coffee cup down on the table. “Why are you all speaking as if she’s already dead? Why is the whole fucking village so eager to speak about her in the past fucking tense?”

Andrews’ police sergeant façade faded, and for a moment, she was mums best friend again.

       She made her way around the table and placed a calming hand on my shoulder. “Blair sweetheart, I know this is hard for you. It’s just important we explore all avenues.”

       “You think you would know that. Aren’t you the murder expert around here?” Scott’s tone was mocking. I dug my fingernails into my palm to quell the anger.

       Andrew squeezed my shoulder. “Is there anything else you can remember from that night? Anything at all?”

I racked my brains, desperate for a glimpse of something. Maybe Dayna had told me she had found a new beau and was fucking off to the other side of the world on some grand holiday. She did that sometimes. Perhaps she was sitting on a yacht somewhere, unaware of the emotional shit storm she had kicked up back home. No. There’s no way Dayna would be doing something like that without her army of online followers to see.

The hazy memory of myself falling into the mud and ruining mums blouse flashed through my mind… was someone shouting? For a brief second I saw Dayna staring down at me, with a cold, blank stare.

        I shook the thought from my head. “That’s really all I can remember. The rest of the night is so hazy I can’t even remember how I got home.”

       Andrews’ pursed her lips and nodded. “Alright. And you’re sure there’s nothing else you can tell us that may help?”

       “No. Nothing.” I lied.

I would never betray Dayna like that. There was no way this had anything to do with her disappearance. It was in the past. She would never forgive me if I told them about her “cam girl” job. Or the men that used to pay for her.

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Chapter Three

       The body was not Dayna’s. A breath of relief swept over the village when Sergeant Andrews announced it the following day. Of course, I already knew that. The body had decayed completely to a skeleton, there was no way Dayna would have had enough time to become such a shell of her previous self. If she was even dead, of course. The searches continued, but to no avail.

I lay in bed the night after the discovery, tossing and turning until mum came into my room in the early hours.

       She perched herself on the end of my bed and sighed. “Are you alright my love?”

       I pulled the duvet closer to me, trying to cover my tear stroked face. “Fine.”

       “I was going to bring you something to help you calm down and I noticed your prescription is empty.”

Really? Had I finished my prescription already? It seemed odd to me, but the past few days had been such a blur it was possible I had just forgotten.

       I rolled my eyes in frustration. “My best friend is missing and I discovered a dead body. Can you blame me if I’m feeling a little anxious?”

       “That’s ok honey, I understand. But you need to watch. I don’t want a repeat of…”
       “If you’re insinuating I’m going to try and top myself you can relax.”

I felt her body go rigid. It wasn’t something we ever talked about openly; my suicide attempt. It pissed me off whenever she brought it up. I was grieving my father at the time, and in a moment of overwhelming pain, I had overdosed. It was not going to happen again, I wish I could drill that into her skull.

       She finally broke the silence. “You know I’m here if you need to talk. I’ll have Jamie get you another prescription. Do try and get some sleep.”

I waited until she had left and my door firmly clicked shut before sliding out of bed. Perhaps it was because I knew sleep was out of the question, or a moment of rebellion against my mother’s wishes. I sat at my desk table and flipped open my laptop. I signed into my social media account to see who was online, desperate to see Dayna’s icon light up. Of course, it didn’t. She was offline. Last active over two days ago. I checked the last message I sent to her, a begging message for her to be a guest on the podcast that she had reluctantly agreed to. It didn’t exactly fit her glamorous, socialite image, despite the fact it had been her that had introduced me to True Crime documentaries years prior.

 I clicked on her profile and scrolled through the outpouring of messages from well-wishers on her page. Most of them were generic comments from her “fans”, with the odd face I recognised from Kirkleithen thrown in. There were no clues here. I didn’t know what I had expected really; a message from her telling me where she was hiding? Or perhaps a post with some cryptic code that only I could decipher? I sighed, before closing the laptop shut and heading back to bed. I tossed and turned all night, until the early morning sun shone in through a gap in my curtains and a flock of gulls screeched on the roof. Giving up on sleep, I got up and headed down to the kitchen.

Mum was already up and preparing breakfast and Granda was just coming in the front door. He had been on his daily walk down to the harbour shop to collect a newspaper. Normally, he would enter whistling an old tune but today, he wore a frown across his forehead.

        Mum turned and shot him a smile. “You alright dad?”

He did not respond. Instead, he walked over to the table and slammed the newspaper on to it, before disappearing out the backdoor to the garden.

        I arched an eyebrow. “What was that about?”

       Mum scanned the newspaper, her face drawing pale. “Oh Christ.”

I snatched the paper up and took in the headline. “Body found in search for missing Instagram Model is missing Margaret Mullins.”

       I gasped. “That’s that girl that went missing sixty years ago isn’t it? The one I did a podcast about! Granda’s old friend.”

       Mum shut her eyes and nodded. “Granda’s old girlfriend.”

       “The one the whole town thought he had something to do with…”

       “That’s enough Blair. No more morbid talk in this house – please! For people to even think that is just ludicrous!”

        Jamie appeared in the kitchen door. “What’s going on?”

       “They were able to identify that body through some of its jewellery. Official DNA testing hasn’t been done yet but they’re pretty certain it’s Margaret Mullins.”

       “Wow,” said Jamie, “I always thought that was a bit of an urban myth. Hearing the tale growing up, I just assumed she had moved to the city. I know that isn’t what most of the village assumed though…”

       I shot him a cold look. “I’ll take Granda’s breakfast out and make sure he’s ok.”

Mum nodded, shoving a tray into my hands. I made my way out into the garden, the old myth of Margaret Mullins floating through my head. She had disappeared one night at the age of seventeen, on her way to meet Granda, never to be seen again. It had become somewhat of a local ghost story, with children convinced if you went to the beach on a full moon, Margaret’s reflection would appear to you in the water. I remember the rage on Granda’s face when I told him me and Dayna had tried it out for a laugh one night after researching her for my podcast. That was when I’d discovered he had been Margaret’s boyfriend. That was also the beginning of mums chastising me for my “disrespectful obsession” with death.

I made my way over to Granda’s shed, where he was forever tinkering with tools and old mechanical parts and pushed the door open with my foot. I was met with the smell of turpentine and cigarettes. Granda stood leaning against the wall, puffing away.

       I placed the tray down on his workbench and pointed to the cigarette in his hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell mum.”

He smiled, but his eyes were heavy with sadness.

       I sat myself down on a stool and looked up at him. “In all seriousness, are you ok?”

       He shrugged. “I always knew she was dead. It wouldn’t make sense for her to just take off without telling me. We did everything together. It’s just surreal… seeing it in writing.”

       I nodded. “I understand. I’ve awoken every morning since Dayna disappeared expecting a message from her. For those first few seconds I forget and then when reality kicks in I… it just doesn’t feel real.”

       Granda grunted. “At least you don’t have the whole village pinning you as a murderer.”

       “Don’t worry Granda, that was a long time ago. I’m sure those rumours are long forgotten.”

       “You forgotten where we live sweetheart? The people round here love a good chinwag. They nearly drove me out of town all those years ago… it was your gran that convinced me to stay.”

       “I guess you’re right. Well, I’m sorry about your friend.”

       “I’m not,” he said, stubbing his cigarette into an ashtray I had made him back in school. “I mean, I’m sorry somebody hurt her, but if she hadn’t disappeared who knows. I might never have gotten close to your gran and you wouldn’t be standing here.”

       I smiled for the first time in days. “You’d better eat that Granda, or you’ll have mum on your case.”

       “Christ, if she thinks I’m malnourished she’ll have that fecking pharmacist shoving vitamins and shakes down my throat.”

       “I know what I’d like to shove down his throat.”

He let out a hearty laugh that was soon interrupted by a sharp knock on the shed door. I swallowed, beads of sweat forming on the back of my neck. If it were mum or Jamie, they would just walk straight in.

       “Who is it?” Granda barked.

       “It’s the police,” replied a familiar voice, “We’re looking for Blair.”

I opened the door to find Sergeant Andrews and Sean’s brother, Officer Clark, stood with solemn faces.

       I felt myself beginning to tremble with anxiety. “Is everything alright?”

       “We need you to come down to the station,” said Andrew’s, “It’s about Dayna.”

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Chapter Two

       Where are you Dayna? That was the question on everybody’s lips the first two days of the search. The villages’ two police cars took turns patrolling “Main Street” – which is really the only street in Kirkleithen. A long, potholed road that spans four miles along the coast, a church at one end, the school at the other – with small stone cottages, a convenience store, the pharmacy and a pub dotted along it. The dusty, gravel roads that spiral off from Main Street like veins, lead only to farms and of course, The Breakwater Hotel.

The first day I helped with the search along the beach, checking rock pools and the long,swaying grass in the sand dunes. I had half expected to find a strung out Dayna sleeping off the night before, but the search turned up nothing. The second day, Jeannie Laird, the old dear who runs the convenience store, set up a search centre in the school gymnasium. There was tea, sandwiches, a map of planned searches and Dayna’s face plastered all over the wall. Of course, it wasn’t hard to get a hold of selfies to aid in the search of Dayna. Taking vain, posed pictures and plastering them online was her job, after all. As I stood staring at one such picture on the wall, on the second day of the search, I realised the question on everyone lips had changed. It was now “Are you alive Dayna?”

I knew from all of my hours watching crime documentaries and obsessing over True Crime podcasts that the first forty-eight hours were vitalin a missing person’s case. The forty-eight hours were almost up, and there was no sign of Dayna anywhere. I averted my gaze from the picture to Audrey Andrews’, the local police Sergeant and my mum’s best friend. She had puce,wrinkled shadows under her eyes and her blonde hair sat in a dishevelled ponytail.

She cleared her throat to gain the attention of the room. “I know we all have growing concernfor Dayna, but we have to stay hopeful that she is ok. We are going to splitinto two groups today – I want one group taking the East road up to Lindon’s Farm and through the fields. The rest of us through the woods up to the lighthouse.”

A calm voice whispered in my ear. “Shall we take the forest route?”

I spun around to face Sean, my boyfriend. He shot me asympathetic smile through his deep, brown eyes. A local farmer’s boy, Sean always had a faint whiff of hay and grass about him.

       I nodded, “It’s as good a guess as any.”

We followed the group that were heading for the forest, armed with torches and whistles. The abnormal heatwave seemed to have dissipated, as a light rain fell at our shoulders.

Sean scratches the back of his head nervously, “Guess that’s our Summer over already. Typical Scottish weather – four days of sun and then it’s gone.”

        I frowned.“You sound like my Granda.”

“I’m only trying to keep your mind off… things.”

“Well, thanks. But it isn’t going to work. We just need to find her.”

He nodded, “You’re right. I’m sure she’s out there somewhere, relishing in all this attention.”

“Sean! Don’t speak about her like that!”

“Come on, you can’t tell me the thought hasn’t crossed your mind too?”

I stared down at my feet, watching my wellies sink into the forest floor and shrugged. “Of course not.”

Sean sighed and began walking again, and I quickly followed. The sounds of the search party calling out Dayna’s name echoed around us. I knew it was a waste of time, though. She would never choose to be in the woods; they freaked her out. Whenever we had sleepovers, she would refuse to sleep in my bedroom that overlooked the dense mass of trees, opting to sleep in the living room that looked out across the sea instead. She said the sea view made her feel free and light, whereas the dark forest made her feel claustrophobic. Right now, as the ceiling of branches and thick leaves towered over us, I had to agree. Not even the torches did much to open up the area, as a dense fog was forming; reflecting the light back to us.

We had been searching for well over an hour when Sean stopped suddenly and grabbed my arm.“Hang back a sec.”

I stopped and let some of the locals go past. “Why?”

He lowered his voice to a gravelled whisper, “I was just thinking… have you told the police about the argument with Patrick and Hannah?”

I shook my head and frowned, “She’ll kill me if I say something Sean!”

“Not if they’ve already killed her!”

I flinched at his words. I was no idiot; I knew the most common outcome of situations like these. Hell, I spent my spare time recordinga poxy podcast discussing cases just like this to my tens of listeners. However, hearing Sean saying the words aloud felt like a horse had kicked me in the gut. I turned away, my vision growing blurry with tears and I stumbled over a rock. As I fell face first into the mud, a strange dreamlike vision flashed through my head. It was the other night near the hotel; someone had pushed me, which was how mum’s blouse had gotten so dirty.

“Are you alright?” Sean gasped, stretching a hand out to help me up.

I pushed it away, pulled myself up and fell back onto my haunches before letting out a sob. Sean knelt down beside me and placed w around my shoulder.

“We have to find her Sean,” I wailed, “We need to.”

“Shh It’s OK, I know. Don’t worry. I’m sure she’s ok.” His tone was not convincing, “But I really think you need to tell the police about the affair she was having with Patrick.”

I snorted. “Affair? Don’t be so dramatic.”

I stood up and wiped a mixture of tears, snot and muck onto the sleeve of my hoody. “You are right though. I’ll tell Mrs Andrews once this search is done, but you don’t really think Patrick or Hannah could have hurther… do you?”

He averted his gaze away from me, shifting on the spot. “They were pretty pissed off. Hannah really looked like she wanted to hurt her.”

“But they left. We would have seen them come back, we…”

        “There’s no use speculating. Come on, let’s catch up to the others.”

We carried on following the search party, the rain growing heavier. We were almost through the woods and at the lighthouse when I stumbledupon something horrifying…

Someone had spotted a cave amongst the trees. It was almostcompletely hidden behind drooping branches and a build-up of moss. Sean and I volunteered to check it out, trudging through the soggy undergrowth towards it. The smell of pine needles tickled my nose as we approached and I let out a sneeze that echoed through the caves entrance.

Sean shone his torch into the cave, “It’s tiny. Nothing to see here.”

I peered in. The cave was devoid of any signs of human life, save for some faded graffiti on the walls and the charred remains of an old Campfire.

“Spooky,” My voice echoed off the walls, “I can’t believe I’ve never seen this place before.”

       Sean shrugged,“It’s a big forest. Let’s go, this is giving me the creeps.”

I laughed, giving him a light-hearted push into the cave. “Ooh ya scared?”

“Blair, quit it!”

I laughed again, outstretching my arms like a zombie and pretended to chase him. As he hopped out of the way to avoid me, he stumbled over the old remains of the fire and kicked something out from it. The object shot across the ground towards me. I shone my torch down and the cave filled with the piercing sound of my screams, as a human skull stared up at me.

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Chapter One

The Murder Sessions

By Rebecca Allan

Excerpt from the Murder Sessions Podcast Episode 100 – “To Perish with Passion”

This episode was recorded on the night Dayna Khalid disappeared and has not been released to the public. – Sgt. A Andrews

Blair: Good evening Bloodlusters’ and welcome to the one hundredth episode of The Murder Sessions! To celebrate making it to one hundred episodes tonight, we have none other than model and social media influencer Dayna Khalid. I know a lot of you had requested I get her back on as a guest – and it took persuading – but here she is!

Dayna: Hey there Lusters, it’s good to be back. I have been busy but I will always have a keen interest in true crime and unsolved mysteries.

Blair: I am sure you all remember Dayna from earlier episodes “The Kindness of Strangler’s” and “Wicked Women”.  For our newer listeners out there, if you have not listened before then you should definitely check them out. So! Without further ado, Dayna would you like to introduce tonight’s topic and explain to our listeners why you chose this subject?

Dayna: Tonight we are going to be discussing and dissecting crimes of passion. I chose this subject because I think there is something so fascinating about what pushes people to kill – especially people that they love. You know, what makes someone snap like that, why are they driven to do these things?

Blair: That is a great topic of discussion. I have to say, I think particularly with crimes of passion, there is a thin line between love and hate and sometimes crossing that line can be lethal.

Chapter 1

       If I had known that she was going to disappear that night, what could I have done differently? The question has been running around my head for two days. Two days since my best friend, Dayna, disappeared without a trace. Two days of searching through the vast, uninviting forest, treacherous mountains and the sprawling beaches that our little village sits nestled between. Dayna always said that Kirkleithen was devoid of any excitement or drama, and in a sick way, I knew she would relish in being at the centre of its first big media storm.

        We had spent the night of her disappearance in “The Breakwater”, a small pub attached to her parent’s hotel. Sitting in the beer garden atop the cascading rocks down to the harbour, it had become somewhat of a high school reunion. This of course led to copious amounts of alcohol and little blue pills; there isn’t much else to do for recreation in the middle of the Scottish Highlands. Dayna was like a princess in the slums whenever she was in town. Her half-Emirati, half-Scottish lineage made her stand out amongst the crowds of fishermen and pale, ginger Scots. She was tall and curvy with dark skin and long, shiny hair to match; the polar opposite to me with my short, flat stature and blonde hair. Growing up, Granda always referred to us as “the odd couple.” That night, however, I felt more distant from her than ever. A feeling I soon quelled with the warm, dizzying sensation of vodka and the euphoric rush that follows a line of white powder.

 I awoke the next morning still in last night’s clothes, my head throbbing. I could barely manage to roll over, my body as heavy as a ship anchor. The hangover only intensified when the sound of what I thought was Granda hammering away in the garden filled the room. In my probably still drunk from the night before stupor, it took a moment to realise the sound was coming from my bedroom door.

       Mum barked on the other side. “Blair, are you awake?”

       I answered with a groan. “Yes. What do you want?”

      “Get up! Breakfasts ready!”

I rolled out of bed and peeled off my wine stained blouse, grimacing when I saw the mess of it. I had borrowed it from mum and I knew she would kill me if she caught sight of it. Scrunching it into a ball, I stuffed it onto the top shelf of my wardrobe between old cuddly toys and battered handbags before throwing on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I noted my eyes were bloodshot and swollen, another symptom of a comedown from hell. As I made my way down to the kitchen, the floorboards of our old, creaky cottage groaned with each step I took. They were faded and stinking of bleach; mum often took her frustrations and anxieties out on the house, armed with a bottle of cleaning product. The day was abnormally humid and the pots and pans sizzling on the stove as I entered the room only added to the uncomfortable heat.

Granda sat at the kitchen table, his balding head poking over the top of his newspaper as he sipped at a cup of tea. Across from him sat Jamie, the local pharmacist and mums new boyfriend. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as he shot me a smile.

        He let out a long yawn, “Good morning Blair. How are you feeling this morning?”

I shrugged as I took a seat next to Granda and began buttering a slice of toast, “Like shite. I can barely remember last night at all.”

        Mum spun around, spatula in the air and frowned, “Blair! Language please.”

Jamie shuffled in his chair as Granda let out a chuckle and winked at me from behind his shield of print. Like me, he was not the biggest fan of mum’s new squeeze; there was not anything inherently wrong with him per se – he was handsome, kind and respectable – but he wasn’t my Da. Nevertheless, he made mum happy and apparently, that was supposed to be enough. I watched the way she gazed at him as she dished bacon and sausages onto his plate and my stomach churned. The taste of last nights’ alcohol suddenly burning the back of my throat. I stood up to make a break for the bathroom when the doorbell rang, followed by three sharp knocks.

         Mum frowned. “Who the bloody hell could that be at this time on a Sunday morning?”

         I feigned a gasp. “Mum! Language please.”

        She placed a hand on her hip. “Stop being cheeky and answer it. It’s probably for you.”

Desperate to escape the smell of fried egg and bacon, I made my way to the front of our home. The cool, sea breeze was welcoming as I pulled opened the door. Sara Khalid, my best friend’s mother, stood on our doorstep. Her eyes were as red raw as mine, and her greying hair was sticking out at all angles.

       “Blair!” she demanded, “Is Dayna here?”

        I shook my head, “No I haven’t seen her since I left the pub last night.”

        Her eyes widened. “Oh I’m so worried Blair. This isn’t like her not to come home, or be here.”

I sniffed, trying to contain a smirk. I wanted to tell her it was exactly like Dayna. That I had been a cover story for numerous hook-ups and nights at Patrick Laird’s house back in high school. But I daren’t do it. Dayna’s father was a strict Muslim man and she had always joked he would murder her on the spot if he found out half the shameful shit she got up to.

         I gestured to the kitchen. “Why don’t you come in and I can try calling her?”

        Sara nodded, “Yes ok. I’ve been ringing all morning but she hasn’t answered. Perhaps she will answer if she thinks it’s you. She probably thinks she’s in trouble.”

It was ridiculous to me that a twenty one year old woman – who had been living away from home in Inverness for three years – still had to answer to her parents like this whenever she came back. However, something in her mother’s face sent a shiver down my spine. It only worsened as we gathered around the table and listened to her phone ring out.

        “Do you have any idea where she could be?” asked Mum, staring me down with the large green eyes I had inherited from her.

Yes, I wanted to answer. I knew many places she could be, but she had sworn me to secrecy.

       “No idea,” I lied.

       Mrs Khalid tapped her chipped nails on Mum’s equally chipped oak dining table. “I think I’m going to have to call the police. I’m worried she’s lying in a ditch somewhere. You were all so rowdy last night.”

        Granda cleared his throat. “I’m sure she’ll be fine Sara. She’ll be hungover at a friend’s house somewhere and come home with her tail between her legs when she’s feeling better.”

       She shook her head. “It’s just not like her. She had a big modelling job in Inverness today – there is no way she’d miss it.”

       “Well there you go then,” said Jamie, “She’s probably left to go to the job and can’t answer because she’s driving. Problem solved.”      

       “No. Her car and her purse are still at the house.”

      Mum placed a hand on Sara’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Why don’t you try calling some of your friends that were there last night Blair. Who else was with you, Patrick Laird?”

       I scoffed; he was the last person they should be calling. Patrick had been Dayna’s first love and high school sweet heart. He had recently gotten married to her old high school rival, Hannah Mckay. The marriage, however, had not stopped Patrick from coming on to Dayna that night at the pub. Or Dayna discreetly leading him through to the empty kitchens as the night went on. Or me walking in on them all over each other.

She pretended to hate coming home, but I knew from the glimmer she got in her eye, that Dayna loved the attention. Every boy within a forty-mile radius of Kirkleithen knew who Dayna was. Sure, mainly because we all went to the same tiny school, but her beauty had become legendary. A trait that had benefited her greatly in her “social media influencer” career. Girls wanted to be her, whilst guys (and some girls, I guess) wanted to be with her. That particular night, Patrick wanted to be with her.

 Somehow, Hannah had caught wind of what was going on and showed up to the pub, rage and jealousy burning in her eyes. Patrick had stood there like the coward he was, letting Dayna take all the abuse, before she threw them both out of her parent’s establishment. That was the last thing I remembered. As I strained to remember the night, my head began to pound harder and a nagging feeling formed in my chest.

       “Patrick Laird’s a scumbag,” I announced, “He left early anyway, so he wouldn’t have seen her leave. I’ll text around; she’s probably stayed over somewhere.”

       Sara shook her head. “I have a really bad feeling about this. I’m going to go down to the station and speak to Sergeant Andrews.”

       “I’ll drive you down,” said Jamie, “I need to go pick some things up from work anyway.”

      “Let us know if you hear from her,” said Mum, “Blair will do the same.”

As I watched mum show them out, Granda placed his paper down on the table and leaned towards me.

       He whispered to me with an intense look in his eye. “You sure you don’t know something?”

       I furrowed my brow in response. “Of course not. Why wouldn’t I just say?”

His gaze lingered on me for a moment, with an expression I couldn’t read.

       He shrugged before standing up to clear his plate. “If you say so.”

I bit my lip, my stomach doing flips. The more I pictured the look on Hannah’s face as they argued last night; the raw, unadulterated anger, I couldn’t help but shake an overwhelming feeling of dread. I always used to imagine that I had a connection to Dayna on some spiritual level; like soul mates or twins. Sometimes I could feel when she was in trouble or upset, even after she moved away. So many times I called her, following a strange urge that something was wrong, and she would answer: “How do you always know when I need you?” Only, this time the feeling was stronger than ever, as her phone continued to ring out. I listened to the dial tone connect to voicemail once more and I just knew. I knew something terrible had happened to Dayna.

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The Murder Sessions

The Murder Sessions is an episodic murder mystery story, with episodes released twice a week.

Follow the story of Blair Campbell in the sleepy Highland town of Kirkleithen. After her best friend is brutally murdered, True Crime enthusiast Blair takes it upon herself to investigate. As she begins to unravel the secrets of the townspeople she grew up with, Blair also begins to uncover secrets within herself. Secrets which may just hold the key to what happened to Dayna on the night she died.

To keep up with the mystery please be sure to subscribe. Can you work out who the killer is before Blair can?

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Chapter Twenty

That Night

Blair: Good evening Bloodlusters’ and welcome to the one hundredth episode of The Murder Sessions! To celebrate making it to one hundred episodes tonight, we have none other than model and social media influencer Dayna Khalid. I know a lot of you had requested I get her back on as a guest – and it took persuading – but here she is!

Dayna: Hey there Lusters, it’s good to be back. I have been busy but I will always have a keen interest in true crime and unsolved mysteries.

Blair: I am sure you all remember Dayna from earlier episodes “The Kindness of Strangler’s” and “Wicked Women”.  For our newer listeners out there, if you have not listened before then you should definitely check them out. So! Without further ado, Dayna would you like to introduce tonight’s topic and explain to our listeners why you chose this subject?

Dayna: Tonight we are going to be discussing and dissecting crimes of passion. I chose this subject because I think there is something so fascinating about what pushes people to kill – especially people that they love. You know, what makes someone snap like that, why are they driven to do these things?

Blair: That is a great topic of discussion. I have to say, I think particularly with crimes of passion, there is a thin line between love and hate and sometimes crossing that line can be lethal. I want to start the night with the discussion of local Kirkleithen woman, Margaret Mullins.

Dayna: Ohhh is that your Grandad’s dead girlfriend?

Blair: Presumed dead! Her body has never actually been found after disappearing sixty years ago. Margaret, or Maggie as she was more commonly known, was the object of every young man in Kirkleithens’ desire. She only had eyes for one man – my Granda. They were planning on running away to Gretna to elope, but the night before their planned get away, she vanished into thin air.

Dayna: I bet it was a jealous admirer, or her disapproving parents!

Blair: The rumour mill was afloat for months, with many people automatically pointing fingers at Granda. Children became scared to go to the beach at night and she soon became known as the White Lady of Kirkeithen Bay. I – Jamie do you mind? We’re trying to record here!

Jamie: Ah sorry, your mother wants you to take your washing down.

Blair: Oh for… I’ll be back in a minute!

Jamie: I’ve missed you, beautiful.

Dayna: Shhhh! Blair might hear. Or Emily!

Jamie: They’re both downstairs and the old mans out in his shed. Come here, let me kiss you…

Dayna: No. Not here. Wait until night. The cabin around eleven?

*

“Good evening everyone, tonight you are joining me live for my last coverage of the Dayna Khalid murder. I’m afraid I have a confession to make. I’ve been lying to myself, and to you all. This whole time I knew what happened that night, but my memory was being tampered with. If only I had refused the antidepressants that have been fucking up my memory, I would have remembered sooner. But I remember now, everything. I made many fucking stupid mistakes that night, and if I could change me actions then I would.

My first mistake of the night was luring Dayna away from the party via a fake account. I know it sounds creepy and wrong, but I wanted to prove that she was still meeting up with strangers on the internet. I was worried about her, yes, but I would be lying if I said a part of me wasn’t jealous either. We met at the park and I said things I will regret for the rest of my life and she pushed me. I thought had been in. I thought I had lain on the ground, covered in mud watching her walk away from me before staggering home in a drunken stupor. But what isn’t what I did at all.

You see, Dayna had forgotten that months ago we had linked our phones so we could track one another’s location and that’s exactly what I did. I followed her to the cabin, unaware that I was being followed too. We used to love that cabin as kids; a log cabin retreat in the middle of nowhere, with a hot tub under the stars; we spent our birthdays and many Summer nights there partying with our boyfriends. Some of my best memories happened in that cabin, but now… so have my worst.

I thought she was alone when I first approached. She was sitting in the hot tub with her back to me, a glass of champagne in her hand looking like some glamorous movie star. It took me a moment to realise she was talking to somebody. When he finally emerged from the cabin, it felt as if someone had pulled the world from under me. I sat, watching from the trees in disbelief, as my own stepfather Jamie Smith appeared and got into the tub with her.

I cannot describe the betrayal in my heart; how could Dayna do this to my mother? How could Jamie do this to her? I always hated him, and I thought it was just because he was trying to replace my father but I guess it was more than that; I think deep down, I knew he was a rat. As I watched them together in the hot tub, I was frozen; a part of me wanted to turn around and pretend I hadn’t seen anything, but I couldn’t. I wanted to confront them, but before I could pluck up the courage, a car had pulled up quietly by the edge of the lodge. They hadn’t heard it coming over the sound of the jets and the music they were playing. They didn’t hear the footsteps of their assailant coming around the decking as Jamie made his way into the lodge for more wine. The next thing he and I heard were the screams of Dayna as a screwdriver was plunged into her perfect body, over and over again, in a fit of rage. I tried to scream for her to stop, but instead I trembled in fear amongst the trees like the useless fucker I am. Jamie ran outside, towel wrapped around his waist, to the site of my own mother standing over the bloody, limp body of Dayna. My mother. The look of rage in her eyes faded, and instead of attacking him, she crumbled, wailing and sobbing like a pathetic little child.

            “Emily? What have you done? What have you done?”

             “How could you? How could you do this to me?”

How could he do this to you? How could you do this to Dayna? To me? How could the two of you live with yourselves? I watched as they fled the scene, leaving her floating face down in the water. As soon as the car was out of site, I ran. My legs shook like jelly and I struggled to mount the decking, but somehow I found the strength. I clambered into the hot tub, pulling her out of the water and into my arms.

She was still alive, but barely. I sobbed, begging her to hold on, promising I would get her help as the water around us turned red. The screwdriver bobbed up and down around us, as if it was mocking me. She was losing too much blood.  

She only spoke two words as she lay dying in my arms: I’m sorry.

I knew there was nothing I could do, so I sobbed, clutching her against me like a baby until her heart stopped. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t go home, to the place where her killers lived. I know I should have phoned the police, but I wasn’t thinking straight. And then I heard it. A stick snapped from the surrounding trees and then he appeared: Sean.

I knew Sean hadn’t hurt her all along, but what I didn’t know was that he thought I had. He had followed me into the woods, and found me covered in blood clutching her body. He had shook me out of my shock and told me to go home; that he would handle everything. He took the murder weapon because he thought he was protecting me, not my fucking mother and her boyfriend. I couldn’t tell him the truth. I told him to go and I would make my own way home. I screamed at him to leave me alone and then I watched him disappear back into the woods. I’m not sure how long I sat on the decking for, sobbing and racking my brain for somewhere to go. But it was too long: I heard a car pull up and before I could make my getaway, heavy footsteps made their way around the decking and Jamie and my mother appeared. Armed to hide the evidence with bottles of bleach and mop buckets.

                  “Oh my god Blair… what are you doing here?”

She almost sounded embarrassed.

                   “I saw everything. I saw what you did. I saw you fucking her and I saw you killing her. You have to call the police! You have to! You murderers!”

I flailed my arms at them; landing feeble punches as the drink and drugs caught up to me and the adrenaline began to drain from my body. I remember Jamie restraining me and mum asking what they were going to do. I remember the panic and hysteria in her voice. Jamie said he would “take care of it” and that was when they started pumping me full of antidepressants and tranquilizers. That was when they cleaned away any evidence of our presence that night and squashed out my memories.

I bet you thought you were really smart, right?

So, there you have it listeners, the true story of what happened that night. My heart is breaking all over again; I battled with myself on the way here. I have lost my best friend and my father, do I really want to lose my mother too? But I had to do this, I owe it to Dayna and her family. They deserve justice, Sean deserves to be absolved and I… I deserve to die. I was there and I didn’t stop it, I crumbled like a coward and watched. I’m no better than them. I’m so sorry to everyone, but above all, to Dayna. I love you, Dayna. I’ll see you soon…”

Epilogue

Three Months Later

               Granda Campbell sat on the weathered wooden porch, a cigarette balanced on his lips. He watched as a news van tried to take sly pictures of him from the end of the street before doing a U-Turn and disappearing over the horizon. That would be the last of them. The sentencing of his only daughter and her “twisted, cheating paramour” as the press had labelled him, had taken place this morning. Life imprisonment had been the verdict; and rightly so, but Granda couldn’t help but feel sad at the prospect of never sitting around the dinner table with his daughter again. He would never forgive her for what she had done to his beloved Blair. Drugging her and hiding the truth, until she couldn’t take it anymore. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if Audrey Andrew’s and Detective Macdonald hadn’t found her in time. They had traced the radio signal back to the radio shack and found her just in time, hanging from the warped rafters. He cursed himself for letting it get that far; he could see she was hurting and confused that night. He should have made sure she was ok.

Kirkleithen would never be the same again. The Khalid’s had decided to leave town for good, a large “SOLD” sign was now swinging above the front doors of The Breakwater, that had been boarded shut weeks ago. People had always looked at him funny since Maggie’s disappearance, but now he couldn’t even go to Jeannie Laird’s store for a pint of milk without people cursing him under his breath or spitting at him. Nevertheless, this was his home, and he knew he would die here. He had higher hopes for his granddaughter.

As if she had heard him thinking about her, the sound of suitcase wheels scraped along the wooden floor that had lost its stench of bleach since Emily had been imprisoned. Blair emerged through the front door and lugged her suitcase over the threshold.

       “You all set, poppet?”

        She nodded and smiled for what felt like the first time in months. “I’ve never been more ready.”

He felt a knot in his gut at the thought of her living hundreds of miles away, but he knew it was exactly what she needed; a fresh start.

        “Promise you’ll come visit me in Edinburgh once I’m all settled in?”

        He laughed. “I’m not sure my old bones will cope with the journey down there on the train.”

        “Sean can drive you down when he comes to visit.”

        He arched his brow and crossed his hands across his chest. “I thought it was over between you two?”

        “Oh, it is. But it doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. He did try and cover up a murder he thought I committed, after all.”

He wasn’t sure what the correct response was; should he laugh? Shake his head in disapproval? Instead, he smiled and locked his beautiful granddaughter in a tight embrace. He walked her down to the bus stop, a tear stinging his eye when it finally pulled up.

              “Goodbye Granda, I’ll call when I arrive.”

              “Look after yourself poppet… I… I’m proud of you.”

Her face twisted into a strange smile as she looked out across the bay one last time.

                  “I’m proud of me too.” she whispered.  

Competition Time!

With only a few chapters left to go, it’s competition time!🥳

Who do you think killed Dayna? To answer, follow the link to The Murder Sessions Facebook group. Request to join and then once accepted, select your answer on the poll! As a thank you to the massive amount of support and loyal readers I’ve had over the last few months, everyone who selects the right answer will be entered into a prize draw to win an Amazon voucher! The results will be announced two days after the final chapter is released, so as not to spoil anything!

Not sure? Trust your gut and take a guess – you might be lucky!😏
Haven’t caught up yet? There’s still time! The final chapter will be released in two weeks, plenty of time for you to read up and get your detective hat on. 🕵🏼‍♀️

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