Every Little Breath: A Tense Psychological Thriller Full of Twists

Casey had thought doing her radio show in front of Finn was nerve-wracking enough, but that was before she had the pleasure of DC Walsh and DC Corrigan for company.

After barking instructions about how things were going to work (umm, hello, it was Casey’s show and she worked to the East Coast Radio schedule), they had taken up residence on the sofa, and, even though there was room for her, they had made poor Phoebe sit on the floor.

Within ten minutes of the show starting, Walsh was up from his seat and hovering over Casey, seeming to want to take control of everything and she had to ask him repeatedly to sit down.

She couldn’t actually decide which one of the two detectives was the most annoying; Walsh with his hovering and interfering, and his blunt superior attitude, or Corrigan, who mostly sat on the sofa staring at his laptop, which had been linked up to the radio station network as soon as they had arrived, and who occasionally glanced up to stare at Casey with emotionless pale eyes.

From the little she knew of him based on past meetings, he had zero personality and the only time she had seen him crack a smile was when Walsh, who viewed himself as something of a comedian, cracked one of his unfunny jokes.

It was going to be a long three hours and she wished to hell that it was Finn with her instead.

Her mind drifted back to the weekend. Despite announcing at breakfast that she didn’t want to see him for the rest of Saturday, Finn had completely ignored her request, showing up just an hour after she had left his apartment, wanting to check her place for himself to be certain there was no way anyone could break in, other than through the front door. After finally getting rid of him and settling down to do some work, he had returned later in the afternoon to tell her he had spoken with his friend, Daniella, about installing a couple of security cameras. It was something he could have told her with a brief text message instead of interrupting her flow and she had been a little short-tempered with him, then had felt bad because Finn passed on a price from Daniella that she suspected included a hefty discount.

She accepted the offer graciously and let Daniella schedule her in.

Finn had left her alone after that, which had given her time with her thoughts to consider the previous night. Not that it left her with any clearer an idea of how to handle the situation.

He was annoying, pig-headed, bossy and too full-on, but equally he made her laugh, knew how to pull her out of a mood, seemed to genuinely care about her, plus, of course, it helped that he was really good in bed.

Finn was spur of the moment and knew exactly how to go after what he wanted, while Casey took a more measured approach. Part of her wanted to open up and let him in, but the thought of doing that scared her half to death.

It was too much and she was a girl who was afraid of giving just a little. It would never work. Still, as she went to bed on Saturday night she was already missing him.

Despite telling him to give her some space, she still thought she might hear from him on Sunday, given that he was off all weekend, so she was a little surprised when he didn’t make contact. Of course, she could always be the one to get in touch, send him a text or knock on his door, but she convinced herself it was for the best and it was good he was giving her space.

As the morning rolled into the afternoon and she still heard nothing, she became a little more agitated. Maybe he had just viewed Casey as a one-night stand and he didn’t want anything more serious. It was possible she had misread things.

That was cool. She had toyed with the idea of proposing a casual thing to him. If he wanted just one night or something longer, no strings attached, it worked perfectly for her.

So why did she keep checking her phone and going out onto her balcony, which gave her a view of his garden. There was no sign of Finn and none of Bert either.

After taking Phoebe for an early evening walk, Casey finally caved. She would just knock on his door as she passed. Not to go inside or anything, but just to say hello.

There was no answer, no dog barking, and she went back upstairs to her apartment in a restless mood. Was he out or had he ignored her?

He wouldn’t do that to her. Not after his concern about her potential break-in, not after asking his friend about installing security cameras. Unless it was a game.

Maybe this was his way of getting her back for yesterday morning. The idea that he would ghost her because of that was ridiculous. No, Finn was straight up. He didn’t play games.

So where the hell was he?

Casey’s agitation grew as dusk settled and she told herself to stop overreacting. It was none of her business what Finn was up to.

But seriously though. Where was he?

Knowing that she wouldn’t settle, she picked up her phone, started to type a message.

Is everything okay?

No, she couldn’t send that. If she did, he would know she was wondering why he hadn’t been in contact. She deleted the words. Tried again.

How are you doing?

No, Jesus. Delete, delete, delete. She sounded like Joey from Friends.

She tapped her phone against her palm, considered, smiling at what she wanted to send, trying to decide if she dared.

She rooted through her cupboards, found an opened bottle of whisky that she had been given, poured a little into a glass and took a picture, attaching it to her text message.

You have me addicted to nightcaps ?

She sent the message before she could talk herself out of it, spent five minutes regretting it. She was asking for trouble.

Nine thirty rolled into ten, then ten thirty, and she was kicking herself for being an idiot. Finn hadn’t replied. She had made herself look foolish. She had been turning off the lights, getting ready to go to bed when there was a knock at the door, and she had initially frozen, wondering who it was that late at night, before remembering the peephole she had. She glanced through it, shoulders relaxing when she realised it was Finn, and she threw the door open.

He looked exhausted, sad, and any reservations she had were pushed to one side as she pulled him into the apartment. ‘What’s wrong?’

And then he had told her that his mother had collapsed with a stroke and was currently in hospital, and Casey had mentally kicked herself. She had made today about her when Finn and his sister had been rushing around after their parents.

She had hugged him tightly, understanding that for tonight he needed her to be his anchor. After checking that Bert was okay and learning he was with the Beharries, she had led Finn into her bedroom.

It hadn’t been about sex, it was about comfort, and she had resolved to give him that. Of course, in doing so she had to drop her defences, which meant he burrowed his way just that little bit further under her skin, and it bothered her how badly she was missing him being here with her in the studio tonight.

Casey soon learnt that Corrigan had an annoying phlegmy sniff. As he stared down his long pointy nose at his laptop, seeming oblivious to it himself, she was tempted to offer him a tissue in the hope he might use it. If she drew attention to it, though, he would likely blame Phoebe. He had already been unhappy about her being in the studio with them, complaining that she set off his allergies, and requesting that she be locked in another room.

Casey had lost her temper over that. She might find both detectives a little intimidating and not like the way they treated her, as if they secretly felt all of this situation was her fault, but she wouldn’t have them picking on her poor dog.

As they approached the request half hour, she put out the invitation for her listeners to get in touch, hated hearing the slight tremor in her voice. Would Steven be listening? When he had messaged the show on Thursday, he had threatened that he would take another victim over the weekend, made it clear he planned to call in again, though he hadn’t specified when that would be. His last call had come on a Monday. Would he follow the same pattern?

Last week he had specifically told her not to contact the police. Yet here they were sitting in the studio with her. Not that it was her fault this time. Their presence tonight was out of her control. If anything good came of them being here, she hoped it would be that they deterred Steven from calling. She didn’t want to speak to him again. In fact, if she was completely honest, the thought of it terrified her.

A couple of texts came in and she lined up the songs, relieved as she watched the minute hand on the clock slowly shift towards eleven. She had one song to go after the Bruno Mars track she was playing finished, knew the torment was almost over, when the red light lit up on the studio phone.

Everything seemed to go still. Casey froze, Walsh stopped pacing, and Corrigan paused typing, all three of them staring at the red light, as Bruno sang about being locked out of heaven, and the clock continued to tick. Casey shifted her glance to Walsh who gave her the briefest of nods before Corrigan started typing furiously again.

She licked her dry lips and answered the call, putting it on loudspeaker. ‘East Coast Radio. How may I help you?’

‘I don’t think you’re understanding how this game works, Casey. I said no police.’

She recognised the deep voice immediately, her stomach churning.

‘Steven.’ Her voice sounded strange, his name catching in her throat.

‘I want you to play a song for me. I have a special dedication.’

Casey’s eyes widened, as she glanced at Walsh. He shook his head, a scowl on his face.

‘I’m afraid I can’t do that. I don’t have any space left in the request segment.’

There was a disappointed sigh. ‘I think we need to have a little chat. That was not a request. It’s an instruction. I have her with me, Casey, the girl I said I would take and she is going to die tonight unless you save her. You know I am not messing with you. You remember what happened to Saffron. Now, every time you question me, every time you disobey me, your time to find her gets reduced. I have already docked an hour because you have the police with you. Do say hi to DC Corrigan and DC Walsh for me. But I am a generous man, so I am going to allow you the chance to win half an hour back. To get that half an hour, you will play me a song, do you understand?’

There was a pause as Casey glanced at Walsh again. She shrugged her shoulders. He exchanged a brief look with Corrigan, then looked back at her, gave a sharp nod.

‘What song do you want me play for you?’

‘That’s better. That’s more the spirit. My song request tonight is “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”. Do you know that one, Casey? It’s by the Beatles.’

‘I know it.’

‘I would like you to dedicate it from Steven to Lucy: a special girl who is going to fly so high tonight, her feet won’t touch the ground. Can you do that for me, Casey?’

Another exchanged glance with Walsh and another nod. ‘Okay.’

‘Make the dedication, word for word, announce the song, and while it is playing I will tell you where to find her. Do you understand me?’

‘I do.’

‘Write it down. You really don’t want to screw up this time. “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”. From Steven to Lucy: a special girl who is going to fly so high tonight, her feet won’t touch the ground.’

Casey grabbed a pen, her hand shaking as she wrote down the message. ‘Okay, I have it.’ She clicked the mouse on her computer screen, quickly changing the track.

‘Good girl. Make the dedication. I will be waiting.’

Casey looked at Walsh and Corrigan, who were both focused on Corrigan’s laptop screen.

As Bruno Mars came to an end, she slipped on the earphones and spoke into the microphone.

‘This is Casey Fallon on East Coast FM and we have one more song for you in the request half hour. This one is from Steven.’ She announced the song and read out his dedication, slipped the earphones back off and let out a shaky breath before addressing Steven.

‘Okay, I have done as you asked. Where is she?’

Steven chuckled. ‘Patience, Casey. Patience.’

‘Where is she, you bastard?’

‘Let me tell you about my Lucy. She has spent her whole life wanting to be famous and she has been so desperate for that fame, she will ride on the coat-tails of anyone to get it, will use whoever it takes, just to get her fifteen minutes. Tonight I am going to give that fame to her. There is a rope around her neck and at exactly 2.30am, I will drag her up to meet the stars. It won’t be a quick or easy death. There will be no drop, so her neck won’t break, and it will take between ten and twenty minutes for her to draw her last breath.’

‘Why are you doing this?’

‘Lucy will die when winter meets summer which, unless you can save her. She is no saint, but tonight she will pray. Find her or it will be your cross to bear.’

‘What?’

‘Pay attention, Casey. I am bored of repeating myself. One more time. Lucy will die when winter meets summer which, unless you can save her. She is no saint, but tonight she will pray. Find her or it will be your cross to bear. Only you can save her and you have until 2.30. Leave the police behind and come alone. Two thirty. Tick-tock, tick-tock.’

‘Wait!’

The line went dead. In the background the song was coming to a close. Unable to speak, Casey cut straight to an advert break. As she remained sat in her chair, fingers shaking as she tried to line up one last song to take her straight into the news, the two detectives conferred, Walsh with his back rudely to her. A clear indication that while this might be about her, it didn’t involve her.

They spoke in urgent hushed tones and Casey didn’t even bother to try and listen. Another woman was going to die. How was she supposed to help her? She’d wrote down the words that Steven had given her. The riddle she was supposed to use to save this Lucy woman. It made no sense.

When she looked up again, Walsh was staring at her, while Corrigan made calls, all the time typing furiously.

‘Are you sure you have no idea who this is? No ex-boyfriend you have pissed off?’

Sure, there are plenty of those. Casey didn’t say that though. How dare he try to make out that she was causing this? ‘No ex-boyfriends. I have no idea who he is.’

He fired half a dozen more questions at her, his tone remaining accusatory, and Casey answered them as best she could, bluntly cutting him off when she had to go back on-air.

There was a tremor in her voice that she couldn’t shake as she addressed her audience and she knew she was distracted. It was going to be a long night. Knowing that Steven had another victim, that the poor woman was somewhere waiting to die weighed heavily on her conscience.

Walsh had turned his back on her again and Casey reached down into her handbag for her phone, saw she had a text message from Finn.

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. That was our guy, right? You okay?

She started to type a reply, was aware of Walsh staring at her.

‘Who’s that?’

She was convinced he thought she was behind the murders. He seemed determined to catch her out. ‘A friend.’

‘Given that we have a woman missing, in danger, I would ask you don’t text your friends about this, Miss Fallon.’

‘It’s Finn… Finn Murphy.’

His face darkened at that. ‘He’s not a part of this investigation.’

‘No, but he’s a police officer, so I don’t understand what the problem is.’

Walsh was silent for a moment, as he studied her. ‘What exactly is your relationship with DC Murphy?’

Crikey, that was a loaded question. Neighbour, friend, fuck buddy?

‘He’s my boyfriend.’ She almost choked on the word, but the obvious annoyance on Walsh’s face was worth it. If he thought Finn was a significant part of her life, he could hardly cut off his involvement.

‘I see,’ he said stiffly.

Her face reddening, Casey turned back to her message.

He has her and he’s going to kill her tonight if we don’t find her.

She sent him the riddle, slipped her phone back in her bag, knowing Walsh would be furious if he realised she had shared that information with Finn.

He was busy getting his suit jacket on, not paying her any attention as he conversed with Corrigan, who was packing up his laptop.

‘Are you leaving?’ Her radio show still had two hours to run and they had given her a lift here.

‘There’s a police car outside,’ Walsh told her, his tone pompous. ‘They will stay until your show finishes and give you a lift home. DC Corrigan and I will keep you updated if there are any developments.’

The song playing was finishing and she didn’t have time to argue further, slipping on her earphones and returning to her listeners as Walsh and Corrigan let themselves out. They had insisted she leave the keys in the door and she just hoped they locked up after they had let themselves out and posted the keys back through the letterbox.

She would have to go check when the next song started playing.

As the intro kicked in, she started to get up. As she did, her phone buzzed in her bag. It was Finn again.

Do Walsh and Corrigan have any ideas where to look?

Honestly, Casey didn’t have a clue.

They just left, but they never said where they were going. I guess maybe yes.

Barely a second passed before his next message.

They left you alone?

The song playing was already kicking into the chorus. Casey was running out of time to go check the door.

There’s a car outside. Walsh said the officers would give me a lift home.

Not that it made her feel particularly safe. A car outside was hardly the same as having someone in the studio with her. Though Psycho Steve wasn’t a threat to her. At least she was safe here. Poor Lucy, whoever the hell she was, was the one who was in danger.

Still, when Finn’s next message came through, the nerves in her belly settled a little.

I’m coming over. Be there in half an hour.