It was often used by people who simply didn’t trust the normal Web. But it was also used by those who wished to operate outside of the law. Like any deep, dark place, it was where the filth and sediment settled. Child porn. Pedophilia websites. Even snuff movies.
It was the place that every parent who has lost a child feared they might end up. Contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t that difficult to access. You just needed something called a Tor bundle (a way of hiding your ISP). But once in, you needed to know what you were looking for. Specific links that might just be a cluster of random letters and numbers. It was a bit like searching for a house without a number, street name or key in a neighborhood full of dead-end streets and locked, steel-reinforced doors behind which who knew what horrors lurked.
“Yes,” he said eventually. “I’ve heard of it.”
“It’s where you’ll find the Other People.”
“It’s a website?”
“More a community where you can connect with like-minded people.”
“What sort of like-minded people?”
“People who have lost loved ones.”
Gabe frowned. That wasn’t what he had expected.
“So why is it on the Dark Web?”
“Imagine the police found the person who killed your wife, kidnapped your daughter. Imagine that he gets off, on a technicality. He’s walking around out there, guilty as hell. What are you going to do?”
“I’d probably want to kill him.”
The Samaritan nodded. “But you wouldn’t. Because you’re not a killer. So, you feel angry, powerless, helpless. Lots of people feel like that. Maybe a guy raped your daughter but the police say it was consensual. Maybe a driver mowed down your mum but all that happens is he loses his license. Maybe a doctor is negligent and your child dies but he just gets a slap on the wrist. Life ain’t fair. Ordinary people don’t always get justice.
“Now imagine someone offers you a chance to put that right. A way to make those people pay, make them hurt like you do. You never get your hands dirty. You’ll never be connected.”
Gabe’s throat felt dry. He took a sip of coffee. “So it’s a place where you can hire vigilantes, hitmen?”
“In a way. Some of the people involved are professionals. But money rarely changes hands. It’s more like payment in kind. Quid pro quo. You ask for a favor, you owe a favor in return.”
Gabe thought about this, let the concept settle.
“Like Strangers on a Train?”
“What?”
“It’s a film where two strangers meet by chance and agree to commit a murder for each other. They’ll both have an alibi. No one will connect a random stranger to the crime.”
“Kind of the deal. Except we’re talking about hundreds of random strangers. Everyone has a use, and everyone has a price. That’s how the Other People work. You ask for their help, you’ll be asked to do something in return. It might be something small. They might not even call in the favor right away. But they will. They always do. And you’d better be damn sure you’re up to returning it.”
Gabe thought about the underlined Bible passages again:
“You shall appoint as a penalty life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth.”
“What happens if you don’t?”
The Samaritan’s gaze punctured him like a bullet. “You run. As far and as fast as you can.”
Fran didn’t believe in going back. But she had no choice. She had tried so hard. So very, very hard to keep it all together. For both of them. But she could feel her edges fraying, the seams starting to give.
She had had the dream again, the one she thought she had managed to submerge, deep in the murky depths of her psyche, weighted down with heavy chains of denial. But the chains were never strong or heavy enough. Those black, bloated thoughts—guilt, recrimination, regret—kept on floating back up to the surface.
The funeral, the girl in the coffin. Wearing the wrong dress. In some versions of the dream, when Fran drew closer, the little girl sat up and opened her eyes.
“Why did you leave me, Mummy? Why didn’t you come back? It’s dark and I’m scared. Mummmy!”
Then the little girl reached out her hands and Fran turned and ran, through the congregation, who were no longer mourners dressed in black but huge black crows who flapped and cawed at her as she passed through.
“Cruel, cruel. Cruel, cruel.”
But I’m not, she wanted to cry. She had saved her. If she hadn’t run, they would both be dead. She had sacrificed everything to save her. And she would never let her be taken away.
That was why, despite every single nerve ending screaming that this was a bad decision, that she was heading the wrong way, she had to do this. She didn’t have a choice.
“I thought we were going to Scotland?” Alice asked when they had bundled back into the car and headed south, on the M1.
“We were. But this is important, Alice. It’s something I need to do—to keep us safe, okay?”
Alice had nodded. “Okay.”
What Fran hadn’t added was that this was something she had to do alone. But again, she had no choice. And maybe, just maybe, this was a good diversion. The last thing they would expect from her. The last person they would expect her to visit and certainly the last person she wanted to visit.
* * *
—
THEY WERE NOW over an hour from the services. Almost back to where they had started. Their destination was just half an hour away. But it felt like she was driving back in time. Nine years since she had left. Since one terrible night had smashed their family into smithereens. Perhaps it had always been fragile. Most families are. Blood may be thicker than water but it’s a pretty useless substance for sticking anything together.
Her dad had been the only constant and, once he was gone, the rest of them had been cast adrift. No anchor, nothing to stop them floating further and further away from each other. Or, in their mother’s case, farther down into the bottom of a bottle.
Fran’s grief had festered and grown. A constant darkness at the edge of her vision. Sometimes the feeling was so intense she imagined she could reach out and touch the dark cloud around her pulsating with pain, anger and resentment. Even when they caught the person responsible, it hadn’t been enough. It hadn’t eased the constant ache inside.
And then, someone had offered her a solution.
Soon afterward, when she found out she was pregnant—a stupid, drunken misadventure—she decided to move away. She had never really considered herself maternal, but once she knew she had a tiny human growing inside her she yearned to love and protect it.