Be My Killer: A completely UNPUTDOWNABLE crime thriller with nail-biting mystery and suspense Read online

  ‘And?’

  ‘So if we believe the murders were direct results of #BeMyKiller, why can’t we believe it was one person?’

  ‘Because it wasn’t fucking possible.’

  But Hazel was more than prepared for Eve’s rebuttal. ‘The lone tourist theory was dismissed because the timescale made it impossible for one person to travel to each state and murder all four victims.’

  ‘So what’s changed?’

  ‘Kristian O’Connell.’

  ‘The junkie?’

  ‘It’s now looking increasingly likely his murder was drug related.’

  ‘That hasn’t been confirmed.’

  ‘Yesterday, Cheyenne PD said they were now looking for O’Connell’s dealer in connection with his murder. The police only investigated his death as far as they did because of its possible link to a high-profile case. And he was the only victim who didn’t bait the killer when he tweeted @BeMyKiller.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘If you take O’Connell out of the equation, it would have been possible for one person to have travelled to each US location to kill the other victims.’

  Eve shot Henrik a poisonous glance. ‘Of course, this would make life easier for you. Convince people there’s one man out there, not that you planted ideas in the heads of nutjobs far and wide.’

  Hazel knew she needed to keep them both in the room. ‘Someone could have comfortably achieved it.’

  ‘A sick fuck killed Caleb because of something that sick fuck put on the Internet.’ Eve jabbed her finger at Henrik.

  ‘Henrik didn’t kill your brother, Eve. Or the others. Don’t you want to find the man who did?’

  Eve raised a pencilled eyebrow. ‘So, you’ve already decided it’s one man.’

  24

  Hazel sent Henrik back upstairs while Eve took a break outside. The crew made only muted exchanges as they shifted the gear out of the ball pit. It was Eve’s turn to watch the clip of Meredith.

  Hazel had told her she was welcome to return to the motel for an hour to compose herself. Eve had said she wanted to get it over with. But it was clear Eve wasn’t as thick-skinned as she made out, and Hazel was concerned about her health and emotional state. She was obviously still raw about Caleb’s murder but were she and her brother, Jacob, really a threat to Henrik?

  Hazel decided to keep Henrik out of sight for the rest of Eve’s visit.

  Eve had dismissed the lone tourist theory out of hand. But even though it made her job easier, Hazel wasn’t ready to dismiss Kristian O’Connell’s death and was keen to interview his sister, Sheenagh. She was meant to be on a flight tomorrow and Hazel certainly wasn’t going to cancel it, despite what Bennett and the Cheyenne PD had said.

  Hazel was to interview Griff Needham after Eve. The stepbrother of the nanny who had been shot with a high-powered rifle had landed and was at the motel. She opened her iPhone and found his Facebook page.

  He updated it nearly every hour and from the image of his latest meal, posted only six minutes previously, she wondered where he would find such fine cuisine in Broomfield. But having spoken to him via FaceTime she knew the person whose life appeared so cultivated online was very different to the one that existed in reality.

  She looked over to the shrine and happy expressions of Meredith stared back. What reality did her innocuous smile conceal?

  Hazel observed Rena emerge from the bathroom and hold the door open while Eve rolled out on her scooter. It was time for her to view Meredith’s last moments.

  25

  ‘That’s him.’ Eve Huber put the tips of her fingers against her throat.

  Hazel didn’t speak and allowed her to take in the frozen last frame of the Meredith Hickman footage.

  Eve looked up from the screen. ‘It’s the guy I saw from my bedroom window.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Hazel studied her reaction. Any guilt she’d felt about exposing her to the clip had been mitigated by Eve’s enthralled expression. Hazel hadn’t been able to watch again.

  Likewise, the crew were all looking anywhere but at the laptop. They were set up on the edge of the track in Speed Zone, which was a cavernous go-kart arena. Weiss said it was partially soundproofed. A row of four feet high tyres demarcated the winding course, and there was a shuttered coffee stand positioned at the rear where the adults used to score their hits of caffeine.

  ‘Is that as clear as this gets?’ Eve squinted at the face.

  ‘Yes. Sure it’s the same man?’

  Eve nodded. ‘Positive.’

  ‘The quality of the image has been enhanced as much as it can but it’s still pretty low-grade.’

  ‘It’s him.’

  ‘Plus it was night when Caleb was attacked.’

  ‘I saw him clear as I see you.’

  ‘But surely it would be difficult for you to identify anyone if their face was in darkness.’

  ‘Saying I’m lying?’ Eve pouted.

  ‘Of course not. I just want you to be a hundred per cent about this.’

  ‘Isn’t this what you want to hear?’ she said with exasperation.

  ‘I only want the truth, Eve.’

  ‘I’m telling you, that’s the guy who was in my backyard.’

  ‘OK, thanks, Eve. And sorry to have put you through that. OK, guys.’ Hazel lightly gripped Lucas by his elbow. It was her signal to keep recording. She nodded at Weiss, and he took off his headphones but only for show. He knew the drill. So did Sweeting. He stood but left the mic directed at Eve.

  ‘I hope you didn’t feel I was leading you with this.’

  Eve glanced back to the laptop. ‘I speak my own mind, not anybody else’s.’

  Hazel walked into shot. ‘Some interview differently on camera than they do off.’

  Eve fingered a dark ringlet back under her camouflage headscarf. ‘That doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘It’s human nature. If they hit it off with me they start to play the part they think I want them to.’

  ‘Who says I hit it off with you?’

  ‘It’s why I didn’t want to immediately tell you the objective of this documentary.’

  ‘But you did.’

  ‘Henrik forced my hand.’

  ‘And I would have said you were nuts. Now, I’m changing my mind. Looks as if the same guy who murdered Caleb at least killed this Hickman girl.’

  26

  On my way to top secret movie location!

  Griff Needham took a photo of an empty Broomfield grain silo through the front window of the cab with his iPhone, attached it to the update and swiftly posted it to Facebook.

  That he was actually doing something worthy of posting to Facebook was a rarity, although his friends had never realised this. From their perspective, he met interesting people, dined on the finest cuisine and was constantly globetrotting. How did Griff find the time, energy and money to do the many things they ‘liked’, commented on and were so insanely jealous of?

  The reality was that Griff had become addicted to perpetuating a life he didn’t lead. It was his full-time occupation. Having been dismissed from a marketing strategy training post in 2014, at the age of nineteen, it had begun as a way to fill up the surfeit of hours he suddenly had on his hands. Now there weren’t enough in the day.

  The lies had started small. Desperate to say something of interest, Griff had copied an image of some sushi rolls and posted it, implying he’d snapped them, and said he was trying out a new eatery. He’d done it half as a joke and waited for somebody to get wise. Instead, it had prompted a number of comments asking him about the restaurant.

  Initially he was bemused but had been chary with his responses, hastily finding a local Japanese place online and convincing his interested new friends that he was sitting inside it while he communicated with them. He found that lying once meant he had to lie again. And again. But he was interacting with people who, up until that point, would never have given him the time of day.

  His life of travel began. Regular trips to sunny cl
imes with more images filched to reinforce the deceit. But, as he gradually discovered, he had to stay permanently on his toes to sustain his online lifestyle – from making sure he allowed for the time difference of wherever he was meant to be (and not post instant daytime images when it should have been night) to concocting spats and temporary break-ups with his fabricated girlfriend.

  But Griff relished the challenge it presented and, because of the running commentary he provided about his exploits, began to partially believe it. He told himself that what he did was harmless. Griff had so much debt it was unlikely he’d ever visit the places he did in his fictional world so what was the harm in sharing his fantasy with others? He wasn’t using his lies to extract money or snare a partner. Besides, he could never meet the women he impressed. His cover would immediately be blown.

  Griff was more comfortable with his unreality than the alternative, and why should he stop something that brought him and others so much amusement, education and pleasure? As long as he never tried dovetailing his Facebook life with his actual one he could continue to enjoy the prestige he accumulated from the security of his bedroom.

  But his bogus existence had been thrown into turmoil the morning a sniper shot his stepsister. The outpouring of sympathy had completely blindsided him. Not because the compassion had been in any way a surprise but because his online friends had reacted to an event that had genuinely happened.

  Denise had been all over the news and presented him with the sort of platform he’d always craved. That was why he’d agreed to do Hazel Salter’s documentary. Griff had decided it was time to put his real self out there. Perhaps the spotlight of celebrity might bleach out his defects. Plus documenting his experience was another way to maintain and maybe multiply his Facebook friends.

  He’d signed a non-disclosure agreement but told himself he would only be sharing images with his intimate Facebook community. It’s not as if he would be leaking material for financial gain. He just wanted to record his involvement and use it as a teaser for the rush of interest that was bound to follow the release of the movie. It was unofficial publicity, and how could that be a bad thing for Hazel?

  The car climbed the ramp into Fun Central, and Griff snapped a picture. He examined the faces of the three people outside. Was one of them Henrik Fossen? He was the guy Griff most wanted to meet. He certainly didn’t blame him for the death of his stepsister and actually felt an affinity with a man who had become a victim of his own online creativity.

  A woman with short blonde hair wearing a black puffer jacket and jeans approached the car as he got out. It was Hazel. He immediately recognised her from their online chats. He remembered how much he’d panicked when she’d asked him to speak face-to-face.

  ‘Griff?’

  He paid the driver then shook the warm hand she offered.

  ‘Settled in OK at the motel?’

  ‘All good, thanks.’

  ‘We’re just finishing lunch. Have you eaten?’

  Griff nodded. He’d gobbled down a meatball sub but it had been ahi tuna with nappa cabbage salad – image cut and pasted courtesy of a gourmet web page – according to his recent Facebook post.

  ‘I’ll introduce you to everyone in a minute. This is Rena. She’ll be looking after you.’

  ‘Hi.’ The hot girl with the pink hair and clipboard showed him the chunks of pizza crust in her teeth. ‘I’m the AP.’

  ‘AP?’ His question caused her smile to falter.

  ‘Associate producer.’

  Mental note: she was obviously very important. He shook Rena’s hand and established eye contact, which made her look uncomfortable. He let go and told himself to dial it back.

  ‘Coffee?’ She’d seen him stare and sucked at her teeth.

  He was desperate for one. ‘No. I’m good thanks.’ Meeting two women had already been exhausting. ‘Can you tell me where the bathroom is?’

  ‘Sure, I’ll take you there.’

  ‘That’s OK. Just point me. I’ll find it.’

  As Rena jabbed her finger and explained, he tried not to fixate on the cold sore at the edge of her glossy lips. ‘Thanks.’ He headed off, having only half-listened to her directions.

  27

  Hazel observed Griff Needham’s oatmeal hoody-clad frame amble uncertainly into Fun Central and slow as he spotted the shrine. She nudged Rena. He took a photo with his iPhone then darted his unkempt head of mousy curls around to check if he’d been spotted. ‘Get that phone off him.’

  ‘How am I supposed to do that?’

  ‘Say you’re taking them from everyone.’

  Rena glanced over to Weiss, Sweeting and Keeler who were standing to the left of Griff speaking on theirs.

  ‘Say all the interviewees are being asked to give them up,’ Hazel pre-empted. ‘They can have them back at the end of each day.’

  ‘You don’t trust him?’

  Hazel watched him stroll out of view to the bathrooms. ‘I don’t want any of our content to be compromised.’

  ‘So… you don’t trust him.’

  ‘No. Or Henrik. Confiscate his next. He may have a book deal but he’s signed an agreement not to disclose production details until post release date.’

  ‘Which would be fine if we had one.’

  ‘I’m in the middle of negotiating distribution with Criteria.’

  ‘Jesus. That’s awesome.’ But Rena’s brow quickly hardened. ‘You didn’t tell me.’

  Hazel internally chided herself and lowered her voice. ‘I wasn’t going to until I knew for sure. I’ve got a conference call with them tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Criteria? They’re hardball players. Is that why you brought the schedule forward?’

  Hazel nodded. ‘They want delivery by late April.’

  ‘Including post?’

  ‘All signed off by the twenty-seventh.’

  ‘Shit. Is that even possible?’

  ‘It has to be because they’ll fund the post-production facility with pre-sales and everyone here will get paid. Criteria have got the clout.’

  ‘Mob clout?’ Rena whispered.

  ‘These days it’s all corporate and legit.’

  ‘Not what I heard. Sounds like it’s in the bag though.’

  ‘Not quite, so you and I are the only ones who know about this at the moment, understand?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Get those phones. They can have them back when they leave. Needham’s a Facebook abuser.’

  ‘I’m on it.’ Rena strode determinedly into the complex.

  Hazel was about to head inside herself when she noticed another vehicle mounting the ramp as Griff’s cab left. It was a police car.

  ‘Don’t tell me we don’t have official permission to be here.’

  She turned and found Lucas standing behind her puffing smoke and rubbing the prickles on his scalp. She ignored him, opened her mouth to call Rena but decided it would be easier to handle the situation herself.

  28

  The patrol car took its time crawling over to them before the doors opened and two overweight, uniformed male officers got out. One of them sported a wispy, carrot moustache.

  Hazel guessed they were both near retirement age. ‘Afternoon,’ she greeted them warily.

  Neither of them uttered a word until they’d done the leisurely, looking around stroll cops do and were standing a few feet in front of her.

  ‘We heard you guys were out here,’ the officer without the moustache said.

  Hazel noticed he had a broken nose. ‘Can we help you?’

  ‘Making a movie about Meredith Hickman?’ Carrot Moustache nonchalantly tucked the protruding ends of his tight shirt inside his belt.

  Hazel registered he had a cleft lip that his orange hairs barely concealed. ‘Did you know her?’

  He glanced at Broken Nose as if seeking permission to answer, but his colleague was peering beyond Hazel and Lucas to the activity inside Fun Central. ‘Well enough.’

  Hazel wondered if Detect
ive Bennett had tipped them off or if it was just a slow day in town. ‘Look, we’re really up against it here.’

  Lucas stepped in. ‘If it’s OK with you guys, we have to close these doors now. For sound.’ He was always good at dealing with unwanted spectators.

  Carrot Moustache fixed him indifferently. ‘If you could just spare us a moment of your time.’

  ‘I’ve got permits to be here, if that’s what you need to see.’

  Carrot Moustache met Hazel’s eye. ‘Sure they’re all in order. Just wanted to advise you to watch your equipment. This place is quickly becoming a hang-out for junkies and drifters.’

  ‘That’s why we’re right at home,’ Lucas joked and stamped on his cigarette.

  Broken Nose wasn’t amused. ‘A dealer was shot by a rival gang in Holtwood Forest last spring.’

  ‘We haven’t seen any trespassers yet,’ Hazel assured them.

  ‘You sleeping here?’ Carrot Moustache gazed over their shoulders to the complex.

  Hazel nodded. ‘Most of us. Got some people staying at Rifkin Lodge in town.’

  ‘Just stay alert and don’t be afraid to call us if you see any undesirables.’ Broken Nose reached past Hazel to hand Lucas his card. ‘My direct line.’

  ‘Appreciate that, officers. We will. This is the lady in charge though.’ Lucas passed it to her.

  They both regarded Hazel uncertainly and started meandering back to the patrol car.

  A thought struck her and she called after them. ‘Would either of you be prepared to give an interview about Meredith Hickman?’

  They halted and turned.

  ‘Neither of us was on duty that night,’ said Carrot Moustache.

  ‘I promise it’ll take ten minutes max.’

  29

  ‘No make-up?’ Broken Nose, or Officer Soles, was leaning on the patrol car in the parking zone, where they’d set up for the interview.

  ‘Not necessary.’ Hazel positioned herself behind Lucas. ‘Just handheld for this.’ As he’d agreed to be on camera she assumed Soles wasn’t there as Detective Bennett’s envoy. She would love to hear his reaction when he knew a Broomfield officer had been unable to resist a screen test.