The Blissfully Dead (29 page)

Chapter 48
Day 14 – Patrick

P
atrick and Carmella sat in one of StoryPad’s meeting rooms, all of which were named after famous writers. This was the Orwell room and Patrick wondered if the CCTV camera that pointed at them from the ceiling was functional or a wry joke.

After initial reluctance, mutterings about privacy and confidentiality, and lots of whispered conversations between various
members
of staff, a young woman called Dawn Latuske had
ushered
Patrick and Carmella into this room and sat down with them, placing an iPad on the desk. Latuske was a black woman in her late twenties with trendy, thick-framed glasses.

‘I could come back with a court order—’ Patrick began, but Latuske stopped him.

‘It’s OK, Detective. We’re going to cooperate. The thought that two of our users have been murdered, that more might be in
danger
. . .’ She shuddered. Patrick had used the line about others being in danger to prompt StoryPad’s staff to help. ‘We’ve been in touch with Seattle and they’ve given us the go-ahead. So . . .’

She pressed a few buttons and a screen flickered to life at one end of the room. Patrick realised that the iPad was connected to the screen so they could see what Dawn was doing as she flicked and scrolled.

‘This is MissTargetHeart profile.’

‘Rose,’ said Patrick.

‘Yes, sorry. Rose. And this is Jess’s.’ The girls’ profile pages appeared side by side on the screen. ‘This shows a full list of the stories both girls submitted or contributed to, including any that were deleted. I’m basically showing you an admin view. Nothing is ever fully deleted – it stays on the back end until it’s a year old, at which point it gets archived. But this is everything both girls wrote over the last year.’ She flicked down the page. ‘There weren’t many – a dozen or so each. We can also see all their comments on other people’s stories, but there are hundreds, if not thousands, of those.’

‘We might come back to that later,’ Patrick said.

Latuske nodded, then pushed her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose. ‘I think this is what you’re interested in. A story that both Rose and Jess wrote.’

She clicked on a link, bringing the story up on the screen.
Patrick
felt that tingle – the one that made him love this job.
Chelsea
Fox hadn’t been wrong. This was it – the link.

The story was called
Fresh Blood
and according to the stats
Patrick
could see on screen it had been read 343,524 times and had thousands of comments.

‘I remember this story,’ Dawn said. ‘It was really popular last autumn, I think. It would have been featured on the homepage at one point. I didn’t realise it had been deleted.’

Patrick couldn’t make out all of the text on the screen. ‘Is it about OnTarget?’

Dawn laughed. ‘Yes. Well, Shawn and Blake. They’re vampire princes . . .’

Patrick and Carmella exchanged a look.

‘. . . who both fall in love with a mortal girl called Ella. It’s quite
. . .
fruity, as I recall.’

‘Hang on,’ said Patrick, spotting something. ‘The authors’ names . . .’

He stood up and moved closer to the screen, wondering if he needed glasses.

‘
There are four co-authors,’ he said. ‘MissTargetHeart,
YOLOSWAG
,
F-U-Cancer and Jade.’

‘That’s right,’ said Dawn.

He turned to her. ‘Can you give me the real names of the other two users?’

‘I don’t know.’

He slammed his palms down on the table. ‘Dawn. These girls could be the next targets of a serial killer. I need to know their names.’

Dawn Latuske swallowed visibly. He could see the war going on in her head: job versus conscience.

In the end, she switched off the screen, tapped her iPad a few times and said, ‘I need to use the loo.’

She got up, leaving the meeting room, the iPad still on the table. Carmella grabbed it.

‘Here we go. Jade Pilkington and Chloe Hedges. We’ve got their addresses, dates of birth and email addresses.’ Patrick took out his Moleskine to note the details down, but Carmella took a photo of the iPad screen using her iPhone.

Patrick put his notepad away, feeling hopelessly old-
fashioned
.

‘Chloe Hedges,’ Carmella said. ‘How come I know that name?’

‘I
. . .
Oh shit – she was Jess’s best friend. Gareth interviewed her. Right, let’s head back to yours, pick up your car and you go to Jade’s address while I head to Chloe’s.’

Chapter 49
Day 14 – Chloe

C
hloe’s stomach was fizzing with excitement. Even though they hadn’t confirmed a date and time yet, she felt as though the imminent meeting with Shawn Barrett had been dropped into the puddle of her insides, like the lurid Vitamin C tablets in water that her mum forced her to drink every morning. It was a secret that was hers and Shawn’s alone and she hugged it to herself with glee, feeling so grown-up to have been entrusted – by one of the most famous people in the country – with such a responsible and glamorous task. They had exchanged a dozen or so messages on the private message board of the forum over the past twenty-four hours, to the point that it had almost become normal to see his name pop up in her inbox.
Almost
. Their conversation had developed from Shawn’s first, slightly formal request into a more chatty tone. She might, if she allowed herself, even believe that Shawn was flirting with her.

It was too exciting for words.

Last night, she had been telling Shawn how lucky she felt to be alive, after the cancer, and that had made her think about Rose and Jess, and her idea about what had happened to them, the connection that had led to their deaths. Before she could chicken out she had sent Shawn a message:

You know those girls that were murdered? Rose and Jess. I knew them on StoryPad, co-wrote a story with them along with another friend. I’ve been thinking: what if it’s got something to do with their deaths?

A reply had come back ten minutes later.

Why would it, babes?

She wrote back.
I don’t know. But
. . .
we did something
. . .

She needed to tell someone, after all this time keeping it secret, hiding her shame over what she and the other girls had caused to happen. She let it all out now, spilling the secret that only she and Jade, and possibly Kai, knew about. The terrible thing they’d done. She’d wanted to ask Kai about it the other day, when he came to see her to get Jade’s UV nail lamp back, but he’d been acting like such a dick that she changed her mind. Kai was making out that he was a massive hero, that Jade was going to think he was the bee’s knees for getting the lamp back. All Jade had needed to do was ask. Instead, her dozy boyfriend had messaged her via the forum and arranged to come to her house to pick the lamp up. Chloe guessed Jade simply did
n’t want to see her, because of what had happened befo
re.

When she’d finished writing to Shawn she sat back, sweating, wondering if she’d done the wrong thing. She was pretty sure Shawn would understand. That he would believe her when she said she had no idea it would all get so out of hand. But what if he didn’t? What if it made him hate her? She waited for five excruciating minutes before a reply came back.

It wasn’t your fault
, he wrote.
How could you have known that would happen?

She exhaled with relief.

Do you think I should tell the police?

Another long pause while he typed.

Why don’t you leave it to me? I met the chief detective on the case. Let me talk to him, see what he thinks. I’ll put in a good word for you.

She had tears in her eyes now. He was such a good person. So lovely.

Thank you
☺
she wrote.

No probs, babes. So
. . .
ready to meet up? How does this afternoon sound?

She didn’t hesitate.
Perfect
, she wrote.
I can’t wait!!

She called goodbye to her mum, saying that she was going out shopping with a friend, and let herself out of the house before her mother noticed the amount of make-up she was wearing, and that she had on platform shoes that weren’t strictly suitable for shopping. Trembling with excitement, she pulled out her phone and double-checked the instructions. A car would pick her up outside the newsagent’s round the corner at 4 p.m. – obviously Shawn didn’t want to arouse suspicion by having the car pick her up from home. It was 3.57 p.m.

This was really happening! As she let herself out of the front gate, her face entirely overtaken by a massive grin, she turned to see her little brother upstairs, gazing curiously out through his bedroom window at her. When he caught her eye he made a
horrible
face at her, squishing his nose against the glass and pressing his splayed fingers up on either side of his face. She laughed, louder than she normally would have done – a welcome release of the bubble and fizz of adrenalin – and he looked suitably gratified.

Bless him
, she thought.
He’s all right really, for a kid brother
.

Life felt great.

She couldn’t help entertaining a fantasy that Shawn fancied her and that this was just an elaborate ruse for him to get to know h
er. T
hey’d keep their relationship secret for a while – how long? A few months, probably, because after all she was only just sixteen. God, though, better make it longer. The OnT fans would rip off her head if they found out she was going out with Shawn. Come to that, she thought, they’d probably rip her head off right now if they knew where she was going.

Not that
she
knew where they were going either. Shawn had said it was best that way, in case his messages were being hacked and the press turned up.

If they got married, it would probably be best that they move abroad, to some massive estate on a cliff somewhere hot. Of course, Shawn would be away a lot, but that would be all right – OnT had so much security whenever they went anywhere, she and Shawn would be safe if they were together, and of course he’d want her to come on tour with them . . . And the money! She’d be so rich that she could buy her mum and dad a really nice house. Maybe even next to where she and Shawn were going to live. They always said they wanted to retire somewhere hot.

But, of course, the money was only an added bonus. She’d marry Shawn in a heartbeat even if he was penniless.

As she walked towards the main road, feeling as though her feet were floating above the pavement, she saw the car waiting for her. A black Audi A4 – she only recognised it because Shawn had told her this was what it would be, and she’d Google-imaged it. She wouldn’t have had a clue what they looked like otherwise.

Even though she already knew it wouldn’t be Shawn himself behind the wheel, her bowels clenched with nerves when she saw it. Any vestiges of fear that this was some sort of elaborate wind-up vanished, replaced instead with a different fear: that Shawn would be disappointed in her somehow; think her too young or too naïve.

She had to remind herself that this wasn’t a date. She was getting carried away with all the excitement. This was for charity.

It was still real, though. She was still going to meet Shawn
Barrett
, and then she’d be in the papers with him, maybe on TV. Who knew what might come of it?

The tinted passenger window slid down when she drew level with the car.

‘Hi, Chloe, jump in,’ said the driver, leaning across and smiling at her. He was clean-shaven with a nice smile, black shades, a dark suit and chauffeur’s hat. Chloe couldn’t help feeling very slightly put out, though, that he hadn’t leapt out to open the back door for her. Weren’t chauffeurs meant to do that? Maybe they only did that for VIPs.

She bent down and looked in. ‘Should I get in the front?’

‘You do that,’ said the driver, winking at her.

Chloe pulled open the heavy door and climbed in, grinning uncontrollably.

‘Hi. Oh my God, I’m so excited to see Shawn again.’

The driver checked his rearview mirror and pulled the car away from the kerb. ‘He’s excited to see you too. Great to meet you, Chloe. I’m Pete, Shawn’s driver.’

‘Hello, Pete,’ said Chloe solemnly. ‘Can I take a photo of you? I’m thinking I might write a blog about this after, you know, about the whole day.’ She pulled her phone out of her Paul’s Boutique handbag, but Pete put a hand up in a ‘stop’ gesture.

‘Whoah, hold on! Sorry, but I’m not allowed to have my photo taken. You know how it is – strict company policy. It’s to do with security for the boys – if people recognise me, then the boys might get hassled even more by the paparazzi and the fans, who’d realise that if they saw me, Shawn and the others would likely be nearby . . .’

‘Oh I see,’ said Chloe, feeling foolish. ‘Sorry. I didn’t think.’ Blushing, she put her phone back into her bag.

‘No problem at all,’ Pete said, slowing down at a zebra crossing as a small hunched lady tottered across.

‘Where am I meeting Shawn?’ she asked, trying not to sound too eager. ‘Is it far?’

He shook his head. ‘Not far at all – just down the road in fact. It’s a private venue near Sunbury. It’s tricky to find somewhere that Shawn won’t be mobbed, so his manager hired it out for you and him.’

‘Cool,’ Chloe said, although she felt slightly perplexed. It all sounded a bit vague.

Pete shrugged. ‘I know, strange, right? These pop stars have some funny ideas! Shawn’s really into symbolism. He thinks it would be memorable for you to meet him in the shell grotto of this place, because—’

‘Oh! I know!’ Chloe interrupted. ‘Because that’s where the picture on the cover of
Twilight Kisses
was taken!’

Pete laughed. ‘He knew you’d know.’

‘Wow,’ Chloe breathed. That’s
so
cool!’ Although she hoped that once they’d met, there’d be a chance of some hot chocolate
somewhere
. It was a cold February afternoon, on the way to
getting
dark already, and she was only wearing a thin denim jacket and black jeans; no gloves or coat because Shawn hadn’t mentioned they’d be outdoors. She’d assumed the meeting would take place in an office, or a private room of a pub perhaps; even – she’d hoped – at his apartment. That grotto looked pretty chilly, even from the photo on the album sleeve.

‘How will I find it?’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Pete. ‘I’ll show you.’