Chapter 30
McKeown commandeered Freya Healy’s iPad from the evidence room in order to examine it himself.
The tech guys had found nothing on Lily’s, which had been prioritised as the girl was missing rather than dead.
Now they were too busy and said it could be a few days before they’d get back to Freya’s.
He was afraid there might be something crucial on it regarding the murders, and in particular in relation to Lily Clarke.
The two girls had been best friends, if others were to be believed.
He succeeded in unlocking it, surprised Freya hadn’t kept it password-protected. Kids were usually more savvy than that. They were masters at keeping their parents in the dark about what they did on their devices in the sanctuary of their own bedrooms.
The home screen lit up with a myriad of apps.
All games. Minecraft. Roblox. StarryModel. Did her parents not realise that some apps were breeding grounds for perverts, who peppered games with embedded chatrooms and messages?
Anyhow, it all looked innocent on initial perusal. He hadn’t heard of StarryModel, so he clicked into that first. Hairstyles, make-up and clothes, where the user had to dress a model and… He couldn’t for the life of him figure out what the point of it was. He’d have to ask one of his own kids.
He was about to log out of it when a message box popped up in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen.
It had to be linked to the StarryModel game.
Little asterisks populated the small yellow box as if someone was typing.
He waited, held his breath, but no words appeared.
He quickly took a screenshot just before the chat box vanished.
Was it an online player? Someone who didn’t know that Freya had been murdered? Whoever it was, they had left the game.
Shaking his head, McKeown began interrogating the device further, making a note of everything he found. There didn’t seem to be a backup of messages or communications. But that was at first glance. He was tired, and there wasn’t much he could achieve this late. He’d give it another go tomorrow.
Just as he was about to close down the device, he decided he’d have a look at the photos Freya had taken with it.
He tapped through the first few. All featured Freya and Lily, one girl now dead and the other missing.
Happy, pulling funny faces, most taken in Freya’s bedroom.
A few of the garden during summer with the trees in full leaf.
Then a blurry one. The child must have moved the iPad just as she clicked, or the photo was taken inadvertently.
The next one was similar. The third in this sequence was still grainy, the device stable. He groaned and stood.
Looking around the office, he found that he was alone.
He needed to tell someone. But what could anyone do about it at this hour?
He sat down again, almost afraid to touch the screen in case he accidentally deleted something.
Rooting in a drawer, he found a cable and hurriedly backed Freya Healy’s iPad up to his computer.
Breathing a little easier once that was done, he noticed that the next photo in the sequence was a thirty-second video. Tentatively he tapped the icon and stared at the images. He watched and rewatched before stopping it and leaning back in his chair.
Damn.