Every town had a leisure complex like this, usually on the outskirts, with a big cinema, numerous chain restaurants and a ten-pin bowling centre. Wendy was pretty damn good at bowling, even if she did say so herself, and had smiled when her new contact had sent her the picture of the bowling place at the Rotunda in Kingston.
‘Meet u here at 9.30pm’, the caption of the photograph had read before it vanished. She’d arrived ten minutes early to familiarise herself with the layout of the place. As she headed back down the escalator leading towards the basement bowling alley, she remembered the last time she’d played with her dad and sister. Her dad had taken her aside and told her how proud he was of her.
‘What, because I can beat you at bowling?’ she’d joked.
‘No, you numpty. Because of what you’ve done with your life. I’m dead proud.’
She smiled at the memory and for the umpteenth time in recent weeks felt a pang. She missed her broken-up family. Once this case was over she was planning on taking some leave, going back to Wolves to see them.
But before that, she had a chance to make her dad even prouder. The chance to make a difference to this operation.
Now that she was familiar to most of the users of the forum, Wendy had decided it was safe to mention the murders without arousing suspicion that she was a mole. There were already lots of threads about it, discussions of the vigil that had taken place, and immediately after the deaths of both MissTargetHeart and YOLOSWAG, the site had been filled with intense, borderline-hysterical tributes to the dead girls.
MissTargetHeart helped me when I was stressing about my exams . . . She’ll be singing with the Angels in Heaven now.
Me and YOLOSWAG hung out after the Wembley concert last summer. She had Shawn tattooed on her skin and on her soul. R IP SISTER!!
So, earlier that evening at her desk, Wendy had started a thread: I haven’t told anyone about this, not even my mum, but ever since what happened to those poor girls I have been terrified. I keep hoping the fact they were both OnT fans is a coincidence but what if it isn’t? I have a theory about what happened to them but I’m too scared to share it on here.
This post had sparked a flurry of responses, most of the girls demanding to know about her theory.
I can’t say, Wendy wrote. I wish I’d known them like some of you did. Then I might be able to prove my theory is right.
The conversation went on from there, mostly going in circles. Wendy waited for Jade and some of the other regulars to join in, hitting refresh repeatedly, frustrated that no-one was taking the bait.
Then a message popped up in her private inbox, headed ‘YOUR THEORY’.
It was from a user called Mockingjay365, whose profile picture was of Katniss from The Hunger Games, bow and arrow pointed at the camera.
I’d luv to here about ur theory, the message read.
I haven’t seen you on the forum before, Wendy replied.
Don’t post much, usualy just read. Im not very good at riting. Too shy.
I understand, Wendy wrote, unsure if this girl was a time-waster. I wish I’d known Rose and Jess.
I new them.
Really?
Yeah. We used to hang out, talk about OnT. Met them outside BBC last yeer wen OnT were on Graham Norton.
Wendy waited.
I think I no sumething. About an enemy they had. They were talking about it.
Wendy’s pulse increased. Though the chances were Mockingjay365 was talking nonsense. She typed: An enemy? Have you been to the police?
No! My dad hates feds. He sez they are bent. He wd kill me if I talked to cops.
I understand. Who was this enemy?
The answer came back straight away. I’m scared. He knows who I am. And he knows that I know him.
You can tell me. He won’t be able to read this.
There was a long, frustrating pause. Eventually, a response came. I dunno. My dad sez that any1 can spy on u on the internet. Like wen Jennifer Lawrence’s nude pics got hacked.
Wendy supposed it made sense that a Hunger Games fan would be extra paranoid about Internet security after the naked selfies of that film’s star had been stolen and posted online.
We cd meet? Mockingjay365 wrote. I saw you said you was local to me – Kingston?
It was Wendy’s turn to hesitate. Was it worth it? Could this girl really know something? This talk of Jess and Rose having a common enemy was intriguing, but could be a fantasy.
Yeh. Where? she typed, playing for time and looking up from her computer. It had just gone eight. She decided she would find Patrick, ask him what she should do. That was the correct protocol. So she hurried towards his desk, disappointed to find that he wasn’t there.
‘Looking for Lennon?’
She turned. It was Winkler, gym bag in hand, his eyes blatantly roaming up and down her body as he waited for her response.
‘Yes, I—’
‘He’s having a party, so Masiello let slip earlier. A surprise birthday dinner with Masiello and his mad missus and the guv.’ He sniggered. ‘That should be awkward. Pretty disgraceful, though, if you ask me – having a lovely dinner party when proper cops like you and me are hard at it trying to stop a murderer.’
She didn’t point out that he looked like he was heading to the gym.
‘Anything I can help with?’ he asked, taking a step closer so she could smell his aftershave.
‘No . . . It’s fine. Thanks.’
She hurried back to her computer and saw that Mockingjay365 had suggested meeting at the Rotunda. She tapped out a reply: OK. What time? And where exactly?
Do u hav Snapchat? came the response.
She didn’t, but she could download it.
Username same as on here. Add me & Ill message you. Snapchat deleets so no1 can trak it.
And now here she was, standing outside the bowling alley waiting for another message, hopefully with a selfie of her new contact so she would be able to recognise her. At least it was warm in there – it was freezing outside, cold enough to snow, and if Mockingjay365 didn’t message her in the next five minutes, she was going home, back to her flat for a hot bubble bath, a glass of wine and the next episode of The Good Wife. And maybe to indulge her fantasies about a certain detective inspector. She hoped he was enjoying his birthday – Valentine’s Day was such an apt day for someone so sexy to be born – but couldn’t help but wish she was at the dinner party. She imagined herself as Gill there with him, laughing, Patrick squeezing her knee beneath the table, forgetting about the case for a couple of hours and enjoying himself, relaxing, and after their guests were gone he would take her/Gill to bed and gently lay her down and . . .
Her phone beeped, shaking her from her fantasy. Hot shame flooded through her. What was she like, thinking about such a thing? Patrick, DI Lennon, was married and she was on the way to meet someone who might help her find the murderer. She needed to stop thinking about him. The sensible thing would be to ask to transfer to another team, maybe even another station. When this case was over, maybe that’s what she should do, after she’d visited her folks. She would work it out later, but she was glad now she hadn’t left that card on his desk as she’d intended.