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.

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.” 

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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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