Fifty Fifty (Detective Harriet Blue #2)(54)

I must not be sidetracked by my feelings of sympathy, mercy.

I want to burn the world.



In reality, the boys had become bored midway through their killing spree and hadn’t used most of the weaponry they’d strapped to themselves. It was the same with Seung-Hui Cho, the Virginia Tech killer. He seemed to burn out his rage much faster than he went through his ammunition. It was all about build-up with these guys. Anticipation of the terror of their victims.

Maybe that was why the killer had left the note for Zac on the steering wheel, warning him that he was going to die. Otherwise, why not just let the thing activate itself the moment he shifted position? Why give him a chance? Why give him time to escape?

So he could think about it.

So he could know death was coming and be afraid.

‘Yow!’ Kash yelped, drew a finger to his lips.

‘What?’

‘I scraped it on the staple.’ He sucked blood from the tiny cut, examined the injury in the light.

I went to the book, sat down next to him. Indeed, there were two staples in the centre of the notebook, holding the pages in place. The bottom fold of one staple was crooked, sticking up slightly, a trap that would catch a careless hand sweeping over it.

I pushed the fold of the staple down. It sprang back up.

Something rushed over me, an electric sensation that made all my injuries come alive at once, my muscles hardening. I snatched the book up and examined it in the light of the living room, tilted it to get the right angle.

‘Oh my God,’ I whispered. ‘There’s a page missing.’





Chapter 81


‘HOW DO YOU know that?’ Snale took the diary from me, examined it, squinting.

‘The staples are crooked. Someone’s bent them outwards to slide the middle page out of the notebook without tearing the paper. They’ve folded the staples back but they’re not completely flat.’ I took the book from her hands. ‘Look. Here. I can see the shape of a square indented in the next page. It isn’t on the previous page. The missing page has left indentations.’

Snale shifted away, her face taut with concentration. She began pulling open drawers and shuffling through them. She found a pencil and a blank sheet of paper and came back to the dining-room table. She flattened the book and began gently shading the pages with the side of the pencil.

‘Shouldn’t we wait for Forensics?’ Kash asked. ‘Get a carbon scan?’

‘We don’t have time,’ I said. ‘It could easily tell us what’s happening next. There was a reason it was removed so carefully.’ My heart was hammering. Watching Snale shading every millimetre of the paper was painful. She experimented, shading lighter and harder, trying to find the best pressure to reveal the pattern underneath. Lines, squares, arrows pointing and labels. A map was emerging before us. Two rows of blocks, some longer, some short, the same distance apart as they were wide.

‘It’s the main street,’ I said. ‘It’s Last Chance Valley.’





Chapter 82


WHITT SLAMMED THE piece of paper against the prison plexiglas and pointed at it.

‘Who the fuck is this?’

He wasn’t usually the type to curse, but his resolve had worn thin. Sitting with Caitlyn McBeal in a room full of people who had all but given up on the idea of ever seeing her again had pushed him over the edge. Whitt’s instinct was to bundle her up, feed her, care for her like a newborn babe.

Sam examined the paper Whitt was holding against the glass of the visitors’ centre, the EFIT image of the man who had almost killed Caitlyn. Sam glanced at Whitt, shrugged.

‘I have no idea.’

‘Enough bullshit.’ Whitt leaned forwards so that his nose was centimetres from the glass. ‘This is the guy. We’ve got him on CCTV purchasing the camera that was found in your apartment.’ He shuffled through his papers and extracted the image from the hock shop. ‘We’ve got Caitlyn saying he was desperately upset at your arrest. He’s around your age. Slim. Long arms. This guy could be your twin. Who the fuck is he?’

‘I don’t know!’ Sam pleaded. ‘I’ve been watching it all morning on the news. I’m telling you, I don’t know the guy! I have never seen him before in my life!’

Whitt let the paper slide from the glass, slumped back in his chair.

‘I don’t believe you,’ he sighed. ‘I can’t anymore. It’s not as though he would tell her you were partners for the benefit of framing you. He didn’t expect her to survive.’

‘He told her we were partners?’

‘In a roundabout way.’

Sam scratched at his neck then shook his head violently, like he was trying to clear water from his ears.

‘How did she survive?’ Sam asked.

‘She got away.’

‘Maybe he planned that.’

‘I doubt it. She killed a homeless man. She fought for her life to get out of that place. When Tox found her, she was crawling on the ground. The experts reckon she had mere days left.’

‘Look.’ Sam shifted closer to the glass. ‘I need you to keep believing in me or I’ll never get out of here.’

‘If you want to get out of here, you better keep looking at this damned picture and figure out who the hell he is.’ Whitt left the image resting face-up on the counter. He said nothing as he headed past the security guards and into the hall.