Every Little Breath: A Tense Psychological Thriller Full of Twists

Psycho Steven’s second victim had officially been identified as Lucy Sheldon, author of the Steve Noakes biography, Where Evil Lurks , indicating a direct link between the two killers. What Walsh’s team now had to establish was whether Casey’s tormentor was actually connected to Steve or if he was an aspiring copycat who was targeting her simply because he knew of her connection to Noakes.

Walsh hadn’t been at all happy that Finn and Casey had been the ones to crack the riddle and he was downright furious that they had beaten him to the murder location, seeming to view it that they had got one up on him rather than they had just been trying to help. It had been all too late to save Lucy Sheldon anyway. Psycho Steven had jumped the clock again.

Casey had beaten herself up over that and Finn knew she had been in shock after finding Lucy’s body. As soon as the patrol car had arrived, the crime scene had been cordoned off, and after speaking briefly with Walsh, Finn had taken Casey home.

Of course, by then she had already seen everything and he knew the vision of Lucy Sheldon trussed up in fairy lights and hanging from the branch would haunt her for a long time to come.

She had been quiet on the ride home, her face drained of colour, and he realised just how shaken she was when she didn’t argue with him when he suggested he take Phoebe out with him when he took Bert for a late walk. Same as she didn’t protest when he told her he was going to stay with her for the rest of the night.

Finn hadn’t slept a whole lot, his mind working overtime as he stroked her hair and held her close, and he was exhausted by the morning, aware that a full day of work lay ahead. So he had been relieved when Casey told him she was calling in sick. Psycho Steven might have a preference for Mondays, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t watching her at other times.

If she had been intent on doing her show, Finn would have insisted on going with her, screw what Walsh thought, which would have left him operating on fifty per cent brain power.

It was better this way and an early night would do him good.

As soon as he had arrived in work he had tried to find out what he could about the investigation, though was hampered by Walsh at every turn. The idiot had even put in a complaint about Finn’s conduct to his boss.

Officially he had been rapped on the knuckles. Unofficially his boss had given him a pat on the back, but he was conscious he had his own workload to deal with and couldn’t spend all day trying to crack a case that wasn’t even his.

Still, as he dealt with a couple of burglaries and a sexual assault, his mind kept going back to Lucy Sheldon. She had once been a journalist, had always been hungry to make a name for herself. Did she meet her killer voluntarily or had he attacked her?

Finn had done his own digging, knew that she had disappeared some time during Friday night. There was no sign of a break-in at her home, which suggested she had left of her own free will. The cuts and mutilation to her body, though, plus the deep cuff marks on her wrists and ankles told him she had been held captive somewhere and there was no doubt she had been tortured over an extended period.

Was Psycho Steven really just a fan of Steve Noakes or did they have a more personal connection?

He pondered that on the drive home, heading upstairs to Casey’s apartment once he had walked Bert and showered, palming his dog off once again on the Beharries. He felt bad about that, knew Bert deserved some ‘me’ time and was aware that he was neglecting his dog. But right now his focus was Casey.

She had been here before and he was aware that the barriers she put up were a direct consequence of everything that had happened with Steve Noakes. Part of him still felt guilty that he hadn’t been there for her all those years ago. She had reached out and he had pushed her away. At the time he had done the right thing, at least that’s what he kept telling himself, but everything was different now. She didn’t have to fight this alone and he would find a way to knock those barriers down.

She opened the door to him, didn’t seem overly surprised to see him, maybe because he had called to check up on her a couple of times during the course of the day, but still she was wary as she let him in. Last night she had been in shock, but tonight there were sparks of the old Casey back. The one who would be questioning why he was becoming a fixture in her life, the one who would be putting her emotions back in a box and locking them away.

He pulled her close for a kiss, felt her tense, understood she was torn between need and protecting herself. She eased back, eyed him cautiously.

‘Do you want a beer?’

That was a start, at least she was inviting him to stay. ‘That sounds good.’

She popped the caps on a couple of bottles of Heineken, took them out onto the balcony where her laptop was still set up on the patio table.

Finn knew she did a lot of freelance work and it probably helped to have something to focus her mind on, especially as she had called in sick at the radio station.

‘How did your boss take the news?’ he asked, glancing over the wall and realising for the first time quite how clear a view Casey had of his garden. He looked back at her as she shrugged.

‘He wasn’t happy, but what could he say?’ She took her seat back at the table, closed down her MacBook, and took a long drink of her lager.

Finn had left for work before she had made the call, knew from when he had checked in with her earlier that Justin Walters had been out at a meeting and she was waiting for him to call her back. ‘He can’t say anything. I’m not surprised by his attitude though. He didn’t strike me as someone who cares much for his staff. Do you know who he has arranged to cover your show?’

‘Yup. Jade Armitage.’ Casey pulled a face at that, clearly disapproving. ‘She works with Paul Powers on the breakfast show.’

‘And that’s a bad thing because?’ When she raised a questioning eyebrow, he added, ‘It’s written all over your face that you don’t like her.’

‘I wouldn’t say, don’t like. She wanted the late show and wasn’t happy when it was given to me. Paul was campaigning hard for her to have it and he threw a real diva strop when it was announced I would be doing it. He’s been waiting for me to trip up, they both have, so they will be loving this.’

‘You haven’t tripped up.’ Finn pulled out a chair, sat down opposite her. ‘What’s happened is not your fault.’

‘No, it isn’t. But that doesn’t matter in the cut-throat world of radio. Jade will get her feet under the desk and I’ll have a battle on my hands to keep the show.’ She managed a grin at that. ‘It’s all happening at East Coast Radio.’

‘How much do you rely on it financially?’

‘I don’t, if I’m honest.’ Finn’s surprise must have been evident in his expression, because she elaborated, gesturing to her closed MacBook. ‘This… my freelance stuff, pays the bills. I get paid for the marketing work, but it’s only a couple of mornings a week, so not enough to make a huge difference. I only took it on to get my foot in the door, in the hope I would eventually get on-air. I don’t get paid for my show though. I do that voluntarily.’

‘Seriously?’ Finn thought back to the way Justin had spoken to Casey. And she didn’t even get paid for the show?

‘It’s how it works. Unless you’re with a bigger station, many of the shows are often done by volunteers.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s good experience for the CV.’

‘And that’s the end goal, what you ultimately want to do, work for a bigger station?’

‘It was.’ Casey took another swig from her bottle, looked out at the view. It hadn’t rained in weeks and the sky was almost cloudless. ‘Now I don’t know. This has kind of soured the dream.’ She was silent for a moment with her thoughts. ‘I don’t think Walsh was happy either when I told him I wasn’t going in to do the show.’

‘Walsh isn’t happy, period. What did he say?’

‘Just grumbled a bit about how it would be helpful if I was in the studio and he would arrange to have a police car outside.’

‘He doesn’t need you there tonight. It’s highly unlikely there will be another call. If anything, it makes sense for another deejay to take over the show for a few nights. It will confirm for sure if Psycho Steven is targeting you specifically.’

Casey gave him a measured look. ‘I think we both know he is, Finn. It’s too big a coincidence that one of his victims would be the author of a Steve Noakes book.’

It was, but Finn knew Walsh and his team couldn’t deal with coincidences. It had to be hard facts. Having another deejay covering the show would confirm what they all already knew.

Plus, if Casey wasn’t at the station, he wouldn’t have to worry about her so much.

He studied her now as she stared out again over the fields, a slight frown on her face, her hair twisted back in a clip, a few strands escaping, dark eyebrows slashed across long-lashed eyes, and her lips almost pouting as she contemplated. There were a few odd lines fanning out from her eyes and at the corners of her mouth, and she wasn’t as skinny as she had been at nineteen, but it added to her appeal.

As if sensing him watching her, she turned away from the view to look at him, the frown deepening when he didn’t look away, instead grinning at her. ‘What are you looking at? What’s funny?’ She raised a hand self-consciously to touch her face.

‘I was just thinking about how pretty you are.’

Her cheeks glowed pink and he liked that he could put that colour in them either with a simple compliment or by winding her up.

‘Was Saffron Pollard linked to the Steve Noakes case?’ she asked, ignoring him.

It was a question Finn had considered and he had mentioned it to Walsh, though had no idea if it had been followed up. ‘There’s no obvious connection,’ he told her. ‘But it’s possible.’

‘It just seems odd that there was a connection with Lucy. Why would he take a random girl, then one connected to Noakes?’

She had a point. ‘I’m sure Walsh and his team are looking into it.’

Or perhaps not. He didn’t seem to like following any of Finn’s suggestions. Out of bullheadedness, Finn assumed. Saffron’s case was with MIT now, but he guessed he could make a few discreet enquiries. If there was a connection between Saffron and Noakes, then it would definitely point to a copycat and explain why Casey was being targeted.

By whom though? Gareth Noakes was dead, allegedly. Finn knew Casey’s ex-boyfriend had drowned himself off the coast of Sizewell. His body had never been recovered though. Was it possible he had staged his death?

If so, then where the hell had he been living for the last fifteen years?

There was a younger brother too. Ethan Noakes.

Like father, like son.

Was it possible?

He was going to have to start doing some more digging himself. Yes, it might be with MIT, but it involved Casey, so Finn figured he had an invested interest.

As he finished his lager, Casey got up to walk back into her apartment, gathering up her MacBook. Finn followed her into the kitchen, noted from the clock it was nearly seven thirty. His belly rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten in a while. ‘You hungry?’

Casey levelled him a look as if it was a trick question. ‘A little, why?’

‘Want to grab some dinner? We can go out or I can cook.’

Her mouth opened and shut at that and he could see that she was going to fob him off with an excuse.

‘Listen, the last few nights have been nice, but…’

Here we go. He started to prepare his argument as he let her speak.

‘I’m not looking for anything serious. This has been… is fun. I’m no good at relationships though. But I’m up for a more casual kind of thing, if you are, of course.’

She wants to be fuck buddies? He hadn’t been expecting that, but it was better than the flat-out rejection he had readied himself for. Fuck buddies was a start. He could work with that.

He feigned an expression of shock. ‘Whoa, slow down. I was simply asking you if you fancied grabbing some dinner. I never proposed we have a relationship.’

That wrong-footed her, had her eyes widening and her cheeks darkening. ‘I never… that’s not what I meant.’

‘You’re the one who told Walsh I’m your boyfriend.’

‘Yes, but only because–’

‘And now you want to talk about how serious we are?’ Finn fought to hide his smile. He had her completely flustered. ‘You’re moving a little too fast for me, Casey.’

‘I didn’t mean it like that… I wasn’t proposing…’

As she tailed off, he stepped into her space, stole a quick kiss, quickly moving back when her eyes widened. ‘You’re cute when you get flustered. And yes, if you want to keep things casual, we can do that.’

‘We can?’ She sounded surprised by that, and did he detect a little bit of disappointment, or was that just wishful thinking?

‘I’m a red-blooded male. Do you really think I would turn down the chance of no-strings-attached sex?’

‘I… um, I guess not.’

‘So now we’ve had that discussion, can we please eat?’

‘But–’

‘We can be friends and fuck buddies, right?’

‘Well… yes.’

‘And friends have dinner together.’

‘They do.’

‘So it’s just a friend thing, it’s not a date.’

‘I guess.’

‘Sorted. So what do you fancy, then? Eating out or letting me cook for you? I’m pretty good in the kitchen.’

‘Umm, okay, eat in, I guess.’

Finn pulled her close for another kiss, this one longer, deeper, more possessive, leaving her looking both flushed and a little bit confused. ‘I’m gonna go downstairs. Why don’t you come down when you’re ready?’

He grinned to himself as he stepped out into the hallway. Hearing a creak, he glanced up at the door of the apartment opposite, as it clicked shut. Had the place been sold? It had been sitting empty for a while, but he hadn’t seen anyone move in though.

He made a mental note to ask Casey.