Halle couldn’t think much about her friends’ reaction. She was so nervous to meet Simon.
It had been a few weeks since he had sent the first messages. Since then there were a stream of them, asking about her day, reminding her of how beautiful she was and how glad he was to be speaking to her. He even told her he would like to meet her friends and have a proper relationship with her – kids, marriage; the whole works. When she expressed concern that it all seemed too good to be true he had sent back some pictures.
In the image he was stood on a sun kissed balcony. It didn’t look like Coldford City. There were lots of plants in the background. Wherever it had Helen taken it looked beautiful. What she found the most eye catching about the image was the piece of paper he was holding up. On that piece of paper was written I LOVE YOU, HALLE.
Halle had never been so excited. She felt like she could cry.
WHERE ARE YOU? She asked.
WITH THE FAMILY AT OUR HOME ABROAD. I’LL BE BACK IN THE CITY AGAIN SOON, BEAUTIFUL.
That was when the made the date and how Halle found herself in a small dockside restaurant. She was dressed in her best black dress. Janice had even done her makeup for her. She had never felt so nervous.
They were supposed to meet at six. The time went on half past the hour. There was still no time. She didn’t want to seem impatient, but she was concerned.
WHERE ARE YOU? She asked.
At 6:45 she finally received a response. It wasn’t from Simon. It was from another profile calling themselves RooneyMain.
HI, I’M SIMON’S MANAGER. HE HAS GOTTEN SOME TROUBLE GETTING BACK INTO THE CITY. HE WAS BRINGING SOME PACKAGES FOR YOU AND THEY HAVE BEEN CONFISCATED. THEY WERE GIFTS FOR YOU. HE NEEDS A GRAND TO GET THEM OUT OF CUSTOMS. ARE YOU ABLE TO HELP? HE WILL PAY YOU BACK.
She must have been contemplating her phone with a frown for too long. A woman at the table next to her with what Halle assumed was her partner asked if she was okay.
She shook it off with a polite, ‘I’m fine.’
She was dressed in her best black dress. She spent more time on her makeup than usual. She had even waxed and plucked, just in case things went that well. A girl dressed up, left sat alone, glaring at her phone. It didn’t take a seasoned detective to ascertain what happened.
Before she could respond to the manager, she received a message from Simon.
I’M SO SORRY, BEAUTIFUL. I REALLY WANT TO BE THERE FOR YOU. I’VE BEEN HELD UP SINCE THIS MORNING. I NEED TO PAY THE CUSTOMS FEE AND MY ACCOUNTS HAVE BEEN FROZEN.
THAT’S TERRIBLE she replied. ARE YOU OKAY?
I’LL BE FINE. I’LL SORT IT. I’M JUST SAD I CAN’T SEE YOU.
Halle gave it some thought.
I HAVE SOME SAVINGS. I CAN GIVE YOU THE 1000 IF IT WOULD HELP.
There was some back and forth on whether he could accept that or not. Eventually, it was decided he could. He sent her a digi wallet ID. It was under the name Harriet Malroney. She asked him about this. He told her it was one of the admins for his team.
He told her what an amazing person she was. He said he would pay her back as soon as he gained access to his accounts again.
Halle took a selfie from where she was. He responded with a stream of love eyed emojis.
MY BEAUTIFUL GIRL he wrote, expressing his regret they weren’t sharing their first meal together.
Then the strangest thing happened. He tried to initiate a video call. He must have wanted to apologise face to face. When she answered the call the screen was blank. The noise around her from the restaurant made it difficult to hear anything. The call cut.
TRIED TO CALL. SORRY I COULDN’T SEE YOU.
Halle left the restaurant, dreading explaining to her friends that she never met Simon and she had sent him money.
The full story will be available soon. In the meantime, an internet troll has taken over the city. The race is on to uncover their true identity before more reputations are ruined.
For those of you who have been on a university campus you will remember how lively and thronging it can be. Tables were set up all along the greens on this day, inviting students to join the Kappa So fraternity or alternatively the Kappa Si sorority. Dawson was proudly wearing his jacket. His dad had been a Kappa So brother so his acceptance was a given. He still had to go through the hazing, but he reckoned he could handle it. The way his body was squeezed into the jacket would no doubt give the frat bros a great place to start.
Nicholas, Russell nor Nasir were interested in pledging. To them it was a lot of butt-paddling they could do without.
“Kappa So get the sweetest pussy! Sign up and pledge before there’s none left.”
Nicholas was trying to decipher why the frat were gathering cats. When he finally caught on to the colloquialism he nodded, “Ah, you mean vagina, very good.”
Russell rolled his eyes. “You sound like a vagina,” he jested.
The tables with all kinds of groups and societies were crying out. They were all calling over one another for the attention of the new students. There were gaming societies, goth societies, vampire societies (not to be confused with the aforementioned goth ones) and there was even a society dedicated to the subject of their first project, Charlotte Grace.
Nicholas was the first to spot the pretty, book nerdish girls with copies of Red Tower on their table.
“Bonjour, mesdames,” he greeted them. “Isn’t it a beautiful day?”
The girls giggled
“That Luen BS actually works,” Russell said to Nasir.
Nicholas’ swoon worthy accent and priggish charm was winning with the romance novel fan girls. Glaring over from his Kappa So bros Dawson wasn’t so enamoured.
“Would you like to sign up for our book group?” asked the bold brunette.
Nicholas lifted the signup sheet.
“I would love to. You see, my friends and I are reading Ms Grace’s work right now and some of your opinions would be most welcome.”
The girl’s giggled again.
“I’m at a loss I must admit,” Nicholas went on. “Perhaps you lovely ladies can be our guides through the pages.”
Dawson had been struggling to earn the affections of his frat brothers. He was going to be going through the hazing soon so he wanted make his name known in his right. One way he figured of doing that was by knocking the Luen toff from his height. Not just a Loyalist, a proper Loyale asshole. It would also give the girl a little something to laugh at too.
Dawson marched over. He deliberately bumped into Nicholas, knocking him against the table and almost tipping it.
“Watch where you’re going,” he sneered.
Nicholas was righting himself when Russell spoke up.
“Maybe you should watch where you’re going. You’re bouncing around all over the place, you fat prick.”
Dawson noticed the bros at the recruitment table had lost interest in whatever he was up to. They were now too busy seeing how many reddened handprints they could get on the belly of a brother named Brady. Ryan Brady was taking the slaps with enthusiasm.
Turning back to the girls, Nicholas said of Dawson, “He’s very rude.”
“He’s a prick,” Russell reiterated.
The girls started to laugh.
“Yes, he is a prick,” Nicholas agreed. He introduced himself to the girls. “My name is Nicky. This good man is Russell and this lovely gentlemen is Nasir.”
It was quite a commotion on the university lawns as more groups and societies bid for the attention of the students. Professor Wilde had come from the building. He was stood at the entrance watching over them.
“Did you know that thousands of racehorses are murdered each year? It’s atrocious that they would make these animals run, put them through gruelling training and then murder them. You? Young lady, do you like horses?”
The young student passing the table nodded. Sure she liked horses. They were beautiful animals. She was obsessed with horses as a pre-teen.
“We are the ARC because animals, too, should have rights in Coldford.”
Curiosity drew Henry from across the lawns to the table where an activist named Hugo Webb was handing out photos of a racehorse named Chancer who had been put down on the field after a race damaged his leg. Hugo was accompanied by a student with long dreadlocks, wearing an ARC T-shirt. On his other side was another student. Henry recognised her from his class last year. She had cut all her hair off and she too was wearing an ARC shirt.
“If you are online use the hashtag ‘justice for Chancer’ and let’s get the entire city talking about this travesty.”
The former student spotted Henry.
“Good afternoon, professor,” she beamed.
Norma Blanche. Her name was Norma Blanche. Henry was glad he remembered.
“Nice to see you, Norma,” he replied politely.
“Do you like horses, professor?” Hugo asked him.
Henry gave a look at the pamphlets that they were handing out. Sure, Chancer was a handsome animal.
“I can’t say I’ve given it much thought,” he admitted. “Although I am curious, why is it a horse is to be put down when it damages its leg? Surely healing it would be more appropriate.”
He had put the question to Norma with whom he had a previous relationship. Hugo chose to speak on her behalf.
“You would believe so, professor. They claim the animal can’t be held still long enough to heal. They say that the animal is in so much pain that it’s the kindest thing to do. We believe the kindest thing to do is to not run the poor creature into the ground for the sake of a damn race. Its Perry Zoo you see. They keep breeding them.”
The student with dreadlocks cried, “Right on!”
More students started to push towards their table. Henry stepped aside to read more of their pamphlet.
Not to generalise but when one embarks on life as a student it is an experience of new beginnings. For most it is the final steps into adulthood. As such, young people tend to find out about themselves and who they truly want to be. Coupled with new found independence it makes activists out of them. Henry noted this as Hugo’s ARC table was flooded with sign-ups. It troubled Henry as he read the pamphlet and came to the section on the ARC’s position on jockeys and racehorse owners. So much so, he interrupted the sign-ups.
“It sounds like you wish violence on them,” said Henry to Hugo of the race staff.
“I don’t mince my words,” Hugo responded. “The kind of person who would be okay with murdering an innocent animal for no good reason doesn’t deserve to live.”
Some of the fresh sign ups cheered at the passion of this statement. Henry knew people were passionate about animals but the idea that racing staff should be put to death he found quite ludicrous. He accepted some people liked to put a shocking spin on their persona when airing controversial views. It made them more memorable. Hugo did take in the phones that were being raised and the videos that were being captured of him. He was smiling but he was not jesting.
“That’s just my opinion of course,” he said. “Everyone is entitled to their own.”
He took his attention away from Henry to another young student with a panda bear clipped to her backpack.
“Congratulations!” he cheered. “You are our one hundredth sign-up. That means I have a little something for you.”
Hugo reached under the table and from a box he produced a horse plushy wearing a white jacket with the ARC symbol on it. The student was delighted as he passed the horse to her.
“Thank you,” she cried excitedly.
“Our next meeting will be in the Beckingridge building next Thursday. I hope you can join us for some tea, biscuits and the chance to give animals their rights back.” To the gathered crowd Hugo called, “I don’t take ‘it’s kinder on the animal’ as an excuse for murder. Don’t hurt the animal in the first place!”
There were more cheers and cries for justice for Chancer. Hugo wrapped his arm around the new sign-up and took a selfie.
Henry lay the pamphlet down. The students were getting rowdy so he thought it best to leave them to it. As he stepped inside again his phone bleeped.
The Kuberstan attack was still the top news story but #justiceforchancer and #ARC were already beginning to trend.
Henry opened the notification.
PURPLEFLOWER HAS A MESSAGE WAITING FOR YOU.
Henry smiled as the closed the notification again.
Like many teenage girls, Debbie Barnet was swept up constantly in the online world. Her mother, Andrea, had banned her from having her phone at the dinner table. She said she wanted to have conversation and chat about their day. That was bullshit. Andrea didn’t care what Debbie had to say. The only reason she didn’t want her scrolling whilst they ate was so she could tell her all about her day and the things that mattered to her. She was a definite narcissist. The only reason she hadn’t let Debbie go stay with her dad was out of spite. She wanted dad to pay for his daughter. To Andrea, Debbie’s existence was no more than a loan agreement. All she had to do was let Debbie text her friends. Instead she insisted on dinner time be the time where they were forced to sit down and listen to her spout about how wonderful she was, how everything she turned her hand to was a success and every idea she had was golden and had to be followed immediately.
Her new boyfriend, Drew, found it cute, Debbie supposed. He didn’t get much of a word in edgeways. At least he wasn’t as disregarded as Debbie.
There was only one person who truly listened to Debbie. It was an online acquaintance who went by the username PINDROP25. They didn’t dismiss her. They always knew the right thing to say and they never left her on read. They always responded. Debbie would sit at the dinner table trying to digest whatever diet fad Andrea had gotten herself involved in. Her phone would have to be left upstairs in her room so she sat would sit the entire time anxiously wondering what PINDROP25 had wrote to her.
She hadn’t met them in real life. She knew if she tried to explain it to others they would think she was mad. She loved them. At least she loved the idea of them. They told her they were a sixteen year old boy who attended St Alban’s school. That was a lot fancier than The Grange Andrea sent her to.
One night, after trying not to gag at the taste of some new fat burning cabbage soup, Debbie dropped her spoon the minute she could and rushed back upstairs to check her phone. There was some notification from a game she had been playing. Her heart skipped a beat when she read the other.
PINDROP25 HAS SENT YOU A MESSAGE.
HI, HOWZ U? They asked.
Debbie wrote back immediately. I’M GOOD. ANDREA STILL A BITCH 🙁
There was the teasing little chat dots as PINDROP25 composed a reply.
SORRY TO HEAR THAT. DO YOU WANT TO VIDEO CHAT?
Debbie let out a squeal of excitement. They hadn’t offered that before. She had been just dying to ask them to meet in real life but was worried they weren’t all that keen. This was a great next step.
SURE. RIGHT NOW? She asked.
AS GOOD A TIME AS ANY was the reply.
Debbie’s hand trembled as she tapped on the camera and started to call. The ringing seemed to bounce off the walls. Within a few minutes the call was answered.
“I can’t see you,” Debbie said. “Are you going to switch your camera off.”
The voice that returned to her didn’t sound like a sixteen year old boy. It didn’t really sound like anything. There seemed to be some kind of digital disguise over it.
The camera was switched on and that didn’t give much more either. PINDROP25 was masked with the face of a character from a banned cartoon called Cecil Mouse.
“Hello, Debbie,” they said. “I’m sorry I have to be concealed. I have to be careful.”
“What’s your real name?” asked the girl, realising she hadn’t asked that before.
“I really like you,” they maintained. “I want to help you. Andrea is getting too much. I can tell that. I want to help you. If you get rid of her we can chat all the time.”
Debbie wasn’t sure she had heard correctly. “Get rid of her?”
“Trust me, Debbiekins, there is no room in this world for real narcs like her. You would be doing yourself a favour. Don’t you want to keep chatting.”
“Of course I do.”
“Wouldn’t you rather be staying with your dad? We could see each other and chat all the time then.”
Debbie agreed. That was the best case scenario. Her stomach was already gurgling with that damn cabbage soup. She could hear Andrea’s cackling laughter downstairs as she guffawed at her own jokes.
“Can I see your face?” she asked.
“I will in time. Just take care of what you need to first and all will be revealed. I’ll help you …”
The video call closed. Debbie was feeling a little shaken. She was angry. She was frustrated. She was starved for food and affection. She wanted to hurt Andrea and end that cackling laugh. Then her phone bleeped.
PINDROP25 HAS SENT YOU A LINK.
HOMICIDE METHODS THAT REMAIN UNSOLVED.
COMING SOON
Enjoy this? Check out these other titles available now!
This brings me to Porter Russo, the third year student at Pettiwick who met his unfortunate demise in the knife attack. He had been a promising baseball player, handpicked for the Junior City Mainers baseball team and well liked among his classmates. That was at least what the family had thought. No one had expected Deborah to go mad. But then her daddy joined a cult so what did they know? Porter was always online so his sister requested the memorial page. It comforted their mother to see the well wishes flood in from his schoolmates. They posted pictures of themselves with Porter. The coach from the baseball team too left some comments on how he would be missed.
The day before the funeral, the sister, Pamela Russo, had woken in the early hours. She couldn’t sleep so she logged on to Porter’s memorial page to post some final arrangements to those who were coming along to bid him farewell in real life.
Her heart skipped a beat when she noticed someone calling themselves PINDROP25 had posted a picture of Porter. The picture had been doctored to show blood streaming from his neck. Cecil Mouse was looming behind him holding a knife.
IT’S HOT IN HELL BUT I’M HANGING ON. SEE YOU ALL SOON.
Pamela was understandably upset. She contacted @hangoutmod and the comment was removed. Such is the way with these things.
Within hours more pictures had been posted. Other people had seen the comment before it was pulled and were starting to respond. Most were calling PINDROP25 a vile troll. PINDROP25 flooded the feed with laughing faces and more doctored photos of Porter, showing him being molested by a cartoon Satan. These comments were pulled too. The HANGOUT admin jumped quickly on deletion of comments but PINDROP25 kept popping up in various other forms. Iris’ team were kept busy trying to contain the fall out. She could have just deleted the page but she felt that wasn’t fair on Porter or those who had come genuinely to share their memories. Pamela Russo was of the same mind. Why should a stupid troll be allowed to ruin outpouring from family and friends? The troll seemed to multiply and the day after the funeral the memorial page had become a hot mess. It was flooded with mockery to Porter and his family. Even the young girl he had been going steady with became a target. She had been in the class at the time and the mental health trouble she had suffered as a result became perfect troll feed.
Eventually PINDROP25 took a step back. Their job was done. Other trolls jumped on the bandwagon. When Pamela confronted one calling themselves SOULDIGGA13 they told her they were merely highlighting the ridiculousness of the memorial page concept. According to them it wasn’t a show of genuine concern. It was an outlet for egos and fakers.
STAY OFF MY BROTHER’S PAGE! Pamela had responded.
Pamela connected with Iris herself through chat. She still insisted that the page wasn’t pulled. She wasn’t going to be strong armed by trolls. Then a DM was sent to Pamela and Porter’s mother. It was a picture of Porter’s coffin.
ONE DOWN. ONE TO GO it teased.
When Pamela found out her mother had sent her life savings to them trying to make them stop she was furious. She and Iris had another chat. Iris collected all the data she could. It was now up to CPD to find the trolls. The search for PINDROP25 continued.
COMING SOON
For all the latest updates don’t forget to subscribe to the newsletter. In the meantime check out these other thriller titles available now.
