Bloodstream: A gripping, unpredictable and shocking thriller
Bloodstream: Part 2 – Chapter 19

The meeting had been scheduled before Murphy and Rossi had even returned to the station. The Major Crime Unit was now in full swing; doing what needed to be done, and all that management speak Murphy so hated.

It was a chance for some important people to feel important. To feel like their job title meant they really mattered.

‘It’s not them who have to see these places close up,’ Murphy said, Rossi an ear to unload on, as they arrived back at the station. ‘Just a load of bullshit to justify the money they’re on.’

‘I’m sure they had their own fill of bad crime scenes on the way up.’

‘Too busy sucking up to be dealing with that sort of thing. That’s how these things work. You know that.’

Rossi elbowed him as his voice grew too loud. ‘You’re such a cynic. Just be quiet and take it all in. We need all the help we can get, don’t you think?’

Murphy opened his mouth to moan further, but decided against it. Instead, he gathered up what information they had about the cases so far and walked over to the meeting room.

‘Catch up with Hale and Kirkham,’ Murphy said as he was about to enter the meeting room. ‘See if they’ve finished up with the neighbours yet. And replace out if they’ve had any hits from CCTV.’

Rossi gave him a thumbs-up and turned to talk to DC Harris. Murphy breathed in and pushed open the door.

He was the last one to turn up. Always a great first impression, he thought. Professional to the end.

‘Ah, David, there you are,’ DCI Stephens said as Murphy sat down without a word. ‘I gather there’s a lot still going on at the newest crime scene?’

Murphy relaxed a little. She was already making his life easier, which meant there was at least one person in the room on his side. ‘Yes. We’ve only just got back now.’

‘Well, you know everyone round the table,’ DCI Stephens said, her outstretched palm sweeping across the room as if it were full to the brim with people. In reality, there were five faces peering back at him. All suited and booted, looking polished and pristine. Murphy looked up and attempted a welcoming smile, which he wasn’t sure came off as genuine.

Stephens continued. ‘DSI Butler, I’ll let you take over.’

Detective Superintendent Gareth Butler made as if he were going to stand, before deciding against the action. Murphy had taken an instant dislike to the DSI a few years earlier and hadn’t really altered his thinking in the time since then. He couldn’t argue against the presence he had, however. It was as if George Clooney – or whoever the latest famous old-bloke crush was now – had walked through the offices, if the reaction from some of the female staff was anything to go by.

‘Thank you,’ said Butler, clearing his throat once. ‘I understand this is the third case in the last few days, David?’

Murphy stopped himself from rolling his eyes. ‘Not exactly, sir. The first case – the one brought to our attention by colleagues over the water – those murders occurred almost a month ago. Our case – the Chloe Morrison and Joe Hooper murders – began on Monday, but they were dead and missing for a couple of days before that. This new scene from this morning looks to have happened overnight.’

‘Ah,’ DSI Butler said, taking a sip of water from a glass in front of him. Murphy looked round for any other glasses and saw none. ‘Our man is escalating. That’s the term they use, isn’t it?’

Murphy nodded, the beginnings of a headache starting to appear as he held his tongue. ‘It looks that way, sir.’

‘Then we need to give your command all the support we can in order to stop this in its tracks.’

‘That would be nice,’ Murphy said, earning himself a look from DCI Stephens, which he took as a warning not to finish his sentence.

‘This is also a chance to see if this new command set-up works well in these situations,’ DSI Butler said, as if Murphy hadn’t spoken. ‘Really test things out. We have a press conference scheduled for later today. David, you should be there, but don’t worry, you won’t have to speak. From now on, myself and DCI Stephens will be the faces of this investigation. I understand the second couple . . . what were they called again?’

‘Chloe Morrison and Joe Hooper,’ Murphy said, fighting to keep the steel out of his answer.

‘Right, those two. I understand they were some kind of celeb couple type of thing?’

‘ChloJoe,’ one of the other suits said. Murphy remembered the name of the guy as soon as he heard the high-pitched voice: Sergeant Unsworth, from the uniformed side of things.

Murphy had to cough to hide a laugh as he remembered the nickname the man had. High-Pitched Harry – the thin-faced sergeant’s voice having a tendency to sound like someone going through puberty.

‘Yes,’ DSI Butler said, breaking into Murphy’s thinking. ‘Quite. Well, I gather we’ve had quite the media interest over the past couple of days, due to the profile of those two. We’ll be getting more of a handle on that from now on. I don’t want the public thinking we’re ignoring the fact that this could be three couples dead in one month. All by the same person or persons. We’ll be up to our necks in outrage before we know it.’

Murphy tuned out as DSI Butler’s voice droned on, waiting until he could leave the room and actually do some proper work. He thought – not for the first time – that promotion wasn’t something he wanted at that moment. Possibly never.

He just couldn’t pull off the power suit and management speak.

After another twenty minutes of almost interminable talking, Murphy escaped from the meeting room, motioning Rossi away from her desk and to the corridor.

‘Any excuse to visit the vending machine,’ Rossi said, lifting herself off the desk of DC Harris where she’d been perched. ‘Want anything?’

DC Harris shook his head and continued to stare at his computer screen as Murphy waited. He gave Rossi another two seconds and began walking away.

‘Hang on.’

‘I did,’ Murphy replied, waiting at the door and holding it open. ‘You were starting to take the piss.’

‘Meeting was fun then?’

‘Aren’t they always?’ Murphy said, letting the door close as Rossi passed him. They walked side by side down the short corridor into the main lobby on their floor of the station. Rossi made straight for the machine holding the drinks captive, plugging money in and waiting for an energy drink to fall.

‘What’s going on then? I’m guessing we’re to keep going?’

Murphy leaned against the vending machine. ‘That’s about the gist of it. They want to see how this new command unit works with something as big as this.’

‘See if we’re up to the job,’ Rossi said, snapping the top off the bottle and draining a third in one long swig.

‘Which we will be,’ Murphy said, eyeing the chocolate bars in the vending machine opposite. He attempted to keep control of himself, despite the jangle of change in his pocket. ‘Our friend DSI Butler will be in front of the media from now on, of course.’

‘Glory hunter,’ Rossi muttered under her breath. ‘Takes some of the heat off us, though, I suppose.’

‘There is that. What’s the latest then? Any further with neighbours?’

Rossi shook her head. ‘Most had no clue anything had happened overnight at all. Next door to one side were out until late at a family thing over in West Derby. The other side were a bit more cagey, according to Hale and Kirkham. Older couple, in their fifties or something. Eventually, they admitted they heard shouts, but thought they were arguing or something.’

‘Was that something they heard often?’

‘Apparently not. But the couple who lived there before Greg and Hannah had screamed blue murder at each other almost every night. They were used to that sort of thing, so just left them to it. Kirkham said they got very upset when they realised what had really been going on.’

Murphy pulled on his lower lip with his teeth. ‘Interesting.’

‘What is?’ Rossi said, staring at her drink and shaking her head at its lowered contents.

‘Our guy lets them shout out. Not worried about being interrupted and caught. Odd behaviour.’

‘He probably just knows that screaming and shouting coming from a house next door is about as useful as a car alarm these days. We’re all so used to it, we don’t go running for the phone any more. Just try and block it out and get on with our own lives.’

‘True,’ Murphy replied, his faith in humanity struck down a little further still. ‘Still happens though. I bet if you ask most uniforms the majority of their domestic call-outs come from concerned neighbours.’

‘Yeah, but they’re the ones we hear about. There’s bloody loads more we don’t.’

Murphy considered the number that did pass through the police’s hands, then the many more that didn’t. He shuddered at the thought of it.

‘We’ve got Emily Flynn here, by the way,’ Rossi said, picking at the label on her drinks bottle. ‘Family liaison have calmed her down somewhat. She’s waiting to speak to us.’

Murphy pushed himself away, straightened up and brushed off his jacket. ‘Oh, good. Let’s see if she’s a bit more forthcoming this time around.’

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in the family room opposite a more composed version of Emily Flynn. Murphy had watched the woman that morning, seen the way she’d held back her emotions as her mind raced, remembered the time it had been him in that position some years earlier, as his parents lay in their living room, murdered by the hand of someone he’d been unable to stop.

He understood what Emily was going through.

‘Thank you for speaking to us again,’ Murphy said, using his concerned voice. Sarah had got a few laughs when he’d practised his different voices for different situations, but they did come in handy. ‘We won’t keep you for too long. I know you’re eager to get back to your granddaughter.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Emily said, a flatness to her tone now. Nothing practised there, Murphy thought. ‘Have you got any news yet?’

‘We’re working through everything as fast and as diligently as possible, Mrs Flynn.’

‘I think you can call me Emily now, Detective.’

‘Thank you, Emily. We just have a few more questions and then we can move forwards, OK?’

Emily raised a hand, motioning for him to go on.

Murphy asked a few questions just to ease Emily into things, not wanting to go in too hard straight away. Rossi chipped in every now and again, just to keep things straight. Murphy paused after a few minutes, preparing for the more difficult questions. Those which could lead to difficulties for them as well as Emily.

‘Do you know if Greg and Hannah had any friends outside of those you’ve already told us about . . . maybe more high-profile ones?’

‘High-profile friends? I don’t understand . . .’

‘Well, such as more well-known figures. People who may have been in the public eye in the past couple of years.’

Emily narrowed her eyes at Murphy as he continued to dance round the subject. ‘No, they’re just a normal couple. I keep saying this.’

‘Okay, not a problem. How about people over the water, on the Wirral? Did they have any friends over there?’

‘Not that I know of,’ Emily replied, rubbing her forehead with one hand. ‘I don’t understand what these questions are about. What do they have to do with Greg and Hannah?’

‘We’re just looking into every possibility at the moment.’

Murphy hoped he’d placated her, but he could already see the cogs turning in the woman’s mind. It wouldn’t be long before she realised why he was asking about ‘high-profile’ people.

‘This might be a bit more difficult, Mrs Flynn,’ Rossi said, taking over from Murphy. ‘But we want to know more about their personal lives, if that’s okay?’

‘There’s nothing really to say about that.’

‘I’m sure there isn’t, but it’s important we ask anyway. We don’t want to miss a vital piece of information at this point.’

Emily didn’t answer. Just waved the creased hand again.

‘Were they going through any financial trouble at all?’

‘Nothing out of the ordinary. Hannah had to go back to work part-time, just to make sure they were still comfortable. They bought the house a year or so ago, but they were doing okay.’

‘Neither of them ever spoke to you about borrowing money, or anything like that?’

Emily shook her head. ‘Nothing like that at all. They would have come to me if they needed anything and they never did.’

‘How about personally, did they get on well together?’

Murphy watched as Emily hesitated a touch before answering. He poked Rossi under the table out of sight.

‘They’re great together. No arguments or anything like that.’

‘Was there anything Hannah may have come to you about,’ Murphy said, glad Rossi had recognised his signal to allow him to speak next. ‘Something she was worried about perhaps?’

Another hesitation. ‘I’m her mother, so she would always speak to me. But there’s nothing that could have led to this, I don’t think.’

Murphy could sense a hesitation. ‘There is something, though, isn’t there, Emily?’

‘I’m not sure what you mean . . .’

‘This is very important, Emily. We need to know everything, because then we can discount anything we believe to be unrelated. We don’t judge here. We’ve heard it all. Nothing will take away from the fact that we want to replace the person who has done this to Hannah and Greg. If there’s something Hannah was worried about, we need to know that.’

‘I . . . I don’t know,’ Emily said, her voice faltering as her hands began to shake.

‘Please, Emily. We need to know what it is.’

‘There is something, but please, I don’t want this being told to everyone. I don’t want to read about this or . . . see it on the news or anything. If people found out, they would only say bad things about Hannah and it’s not like that.’

Murphy knew better than to speak in absolutes or make promises. He’d been burned too often in the past.

‘We’ll do everything we can to make sure this stays private, Emily,’ Murphy said, hoping that would be enough.

‘Okay, but please, understand that this wasn’t the way Hannah was. She was a good girl. She just made a mistake.’

‘What was the mistake, Emily,’ Rossi said. ‘What happened?’

Emily began to speak, faltering at first, then resigned to telling them the whole story.

As she spoke, Murphy felt as if the air within the room became thicker. He listened, thoughts flying through his head, muddled and disorderly. Close to an answer, before it was stripped away.