Night Watcher

by Chris Longmuir

  He knew he was not the only one watching the woman and, although it puzzled him why the other one had followed Nicole and spied on her, he watched her as well.

  The other one intrigued him. She claimed to be the woman’s friend, but she was not. He could see it when her eyes followed the woman’s movements. There was hatred there, a deep, dark hatred. If the woman ever saw it he knew she would make the other one suffer.

  However, he did not have time to ponder about the other one for he had more work to do before the night was over.

  ***

  The motor bike had been a good choice, and the biker it had belonged to no longer had any need for it. It was powerful and he had no trouble arriving at her house before she did, despite her speed and recklessness. He slid into the shadow cast by a tree. He liked the orchard. It was dark and full of interesting rustles, noises and smells. Small animals and insects crawled here, things of the earth rooting and foraging in the dank, clammy soil, hiding from the light just as he did.

  He was almost sorry when he heard the whirr of the electric gate. He drew himself further into the shadows as her car headlights splayed through the trees with tentative, probing fingers that seemed to bounce off every leaf and branch threatening to expose him.

  She drove up to the garage and, although the door rumbled up with the same noise the entrance gate had made, still she sat on in her car like a statue petrified for all time.

  He knew why she sat there. She was afraid. He could almost taste her fear. The fear he had induced.

  He was tempted to make his presence known, but she had not yet received her other gifts. The gifts he had left earlier.

  The big ginger cat circled the tree. The cat was his friend. It was accustomed to his presence and often sought him out on his visits. He bent to stroke it. ‘Pretty pussy,’ he mouthed, although nothing came out of his mouth except a greyish, filmy vapour that made him think of ectoplasm.

  The cat purred its welcome and rubbed itself against him. His hand stiffened, however, he resisted the urge to pull the cat to him and tighten his grip.

  ‘Later, cat. Later,’ he mouthed, before straightening up to turn his gaze towards the woman.

  He was still watching when the man arrived and it was as he expected, the man ridiculed her and argued with her. The man even pulled her from the car. But, when she choked back her scream – ah, that was the highlight of the evening.

  He moved closer. Close enough to see the terror on her face. She liked his little gifts, he could tell.

  Later when she called the police, he left. It was time to return to his lair.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The scream bubbled up inside Nicole trying hard to force its way out of her throat, making her bite her lips until they bled to prevent the sound erupting. She tried to step back, but Scott’s body blocked her way. She shrank into it, merging with him until they were almost one. He stiffened, but whether that was because of what was in the kitchen or whether he was resisting her, she did not know or care. She was glad he was with her.

  ‘What the fuck,’ he said, the breath of his words whispering through her hair.

  Nicole turned, burying her head in his tweed jacket so she would not have to see those little furry shapes with their staring, dead eyes. Little bodies lined up on her kitchen floor, looking as if they had taken part in some weird ceremony. She knew, without touching them, they would be as cold and stiff as the bird she had found in her car.

  ‘That’s it,’ he muttered above her head. ‘I’ve said before he’s a menace, always chasing birds and making a mess. And now this. That cat’s got to go, I’m not standing for any more of his shit.’

  ‘It’s not Ralph.’ Nicole removed her tear-streaked face from his jacket. ‘Don’t you see it must be that prowler I saw last night. The one you didn’t believe was there.’

  ‘Nonsense. This’s just the kind of thing that cat would do; murder poor defenceless creatures and drag them through the cat flap as a present for his mistress.’ His eyes mocked her. ‘Get rid of the cat and you won’t have any more bodies.’

  ‘You’ve never liked Ralph, have you? But you’re wrong this time. It’s not Ralph, it’s someone trying to frighten me and they’re doing a damned good job.’ Nicole pulled herself away from Scott. ‘I want you to call the police.’

  ‘I’ll do no such thing,’ Scott thrust his chin out in the belligerent way he had when he did not agree with her. ‘And make a laughing stock of myself? You must be joking.’ He pushed her in the direction of the door to the hallway. ‘Take yourself off to the lounge and I’ll get rid of the bodies.’

  ‘Leave the bodies right where they are,’ Nicole snapped as anger surged through her with a flash of heat. ‘I want the police to see them exactly as they are. Too bad I didn’t keep the bird I found in my car tonight.’

  ‘Bird?’ Scott raised his eyebrows and looked at her with an odd expression on his face.

  ‘Oh! Not that you’d be interested, but someone left a dead bird on my car seat tonight. When it was in the car park, I might add. Did Ralph do that as well?’

  ‘Coincidence,’ his voice was offhand. ‘Pure coincidence. Still, if you’re determined to make a fool of yourself calling out the police don’t let me stop you.’ He squared his shoulders, thrust out his chin and stalked out of the kitchen.

  After Scott left, Nicole stood, just inside the kitchen door, looking in fascinated horror at the bodies on the floor. A squirrel – spreadeagled, with its tail bushed out behind – it lay alongside a stoat, and the pet, white rabbit that belonged to the boy on the farm a couple of miles along the road. Each one had their limbs outstretched in a mad sacrificial pose. Ralph could not possibly have caused this carnage.

  A breeze tickled the back of her neck arousing her senses and she had a sudden awareness of the open door behind her that led out to the blackness of the garden and the orchard.

  The urge to run out into the dark and punish the murderer of these poor defenceless animals, was almost too great to resist. But she knew that would be foolhardy. She tried to scream her defiance at whoever was out there, but could only summon a croak. Her limbs were leaden. She looked out into the darkness and it was as if she were floating above herself, separate from her body while every rustle and whisper out there was a threat. Knowing she had to shut the door if she was to stay safe Nicole forced her hand to grasp the doorknob and push the door. Only after it clicked shut and she turned the key in the lock was she able to breathe easily again and lose the out of body feeling.

  She forced herself to move, picking her way round the edge of the kitchen so she did not have to pass too closely to the bodies. Her breathing quickened until she was almost hyperventilating and she had to stop for a moment to grasp the edge of the sink. The stainless steel was cool on her fingers as they tightened until they were white and bloodless. The tiny bodies mocked her and she was unable to stop looking at them. Who could do such a thing? She shivered. Unwelcome twinges of fear plucked at her nerves as if they were violin strings playing a dirge.

  Nicole was not sure how long she stood, frozen to the kitchen unit, with her hands glued to the sink. Maybe he was out there now, spying on her. She forced her eyes away from the bodies and looked at the window, but saw only the darkness outside. A darkness, pulsing with evil. An evil prepared to take the life of small creatures. Would it stop there? Or was her life at risk as well? Was this a warning?

  Gradually she pulled herself away from the sink and sidled along the front of the kitchen units until she reached the wall-phone. Her hand was like lead and it took her all her time to grasp the phone and dial. Scott would not like it, but she had no option but to call the police because she had no way of knowing what was outside watching and waiting for her.

  ***

  Bill Murphy leaned back in his seat. She had said her name was Julie. It was a nice name to match the woman who had it. He watched her over the rim of his pint glass as he sipped the lager he should not have ordered. He
was on-call tonight and should have stuck to the cokes, but he did not want her to think he was some kind of wimp.

  Bill liked what he saw, nice features, short dark hair, sad grey eyes that lit up when she could be persuaded to smile, nice figure, conservatively dressed.

  At first she had seemed like a startled fawn when he had come over, but after he had got rid of that slimeball, Sammy, she had seemed to relax. He suspected Sammy had spiked her drink, but did not really know. However, it was a great way to introduce himself, and she was well rid of that boyo.

  ‘You don’t mind me sitting here?’ he said, hoping she would not ask him to go. He would have liked to put his arm round her, but somehow she did not seem to be that kind of girl.

  Julie swirled the vodka in her glass. ‘Yes . . . I mean no . . . I don’t mind.’ Her face took on a pink tinge and she shifted position in her seat until she was slightly further away from him.

  ‘If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll go?’ Bill held his breath waiting for her reply.

  ‘No . . . it’s all right. It’s just that I thought I might see someone I knew here tonight.’ Her eyes roved the bar in a restless search for familiar faces.

  ‘That’s all right then.’ Bill was not usually so tongue-tied, but this woman was having a strange effect on him. She seemed so vulnerable and restless as if she had something worrying her, while an aura of sadness cloaked her, bringing out every protective feeling he had.

  The noise of voices and background music mixed and mingled, soaring round them as they sat there, but the silence between them was impenetrable. Bill sensed a fear in her. It showed in the way she sat and the way she gripped her glass and clasped her shoulder bag to her body. His instincts told him she was in emotional turmoil and did not know how to handle it. It made him wonder if he had made a mistake sitting down beside her, but he wasn’t sorry he had.

  ‘Another drink?’ He reached for her glass and stood up. Maybe another drink would relax her, although he had a feeling she’d had quite a few already.

  She nodded, looking up at him with those large startled eyes, although she just as quickly looked away again, as if she regretted letting her guard down.

  ‘She come in here often?’ Bill asked the barman.

  ‘I’ve seen her now and again, but she’s not a regular.’ Stevie placed the glass down in front of Bill. ‘Doesn’t usually talk to anyone except for an older guy who comes in occasionally. In fact, there he is now.’ Stevie took Bill’s money and rang it up on the till. ‘Cheers mate, I don’t think you’re going to get far with that one.’

  ‘Thanks Stevie, I’ll bear that in mind.’

  Bill squeezed his way through the crowd until he reached the table in the corner where Julie sat. The man who had joined her was quite a bit older and had a down at the heel look. He seemed to be a man who had seen better times. ‘What you drinking, mate?’ Bill said as he slid Julie’s glass over the table.

  The man half rose from his seat. ‘Oh, . . . I didn’t know you were in company, Julie. I’ll be off and leave you in peace.’

  ‘No, no, Harry. You sit where you are.’ Julie patted his hand. ‘You don’t mind, do you, Bill? It is Bill, isn’t it?’

  Bill did mind. He minded a lot, but he did not want to contradict Julie and perhaps spoil the start of a burgeoning relationship. ‘Of course not,’ he said, wondering how long Harry would stay. ‘Sure you don’t want to have a drink, mate?’

  ‘No, I’m fine. I’ll stick with my beer.’ Harry smiled apologetically. ‘I don’t really drink much, you know, but I had to get out of the house or I don’t know what I’d have done.’ He looked into his glass as if he was expecting it to give him the answer. ‘It’s been a rotten day.’

  Bill’s mobile vibrated against his leg, which was just as well because he could hardly hear the ringing tone over the racket in the pub. He groaned when he took it out and checked the number. ‘It’s the office,’ he explained as he got up, ‘but it’s too noisy to take it in here – bloody nuisance,’ he muttered under his breath as he pushed through the crowd to the door.

  The street outside was windy and Bill looked for a quiet doorway to take the call. Frowning, he listened for a few moments before saying, ‘Can’t someone else do it? I’ve got something good going here.’ His frown deepened as the voice continued. ‘Bugger you,’ he said, ‘I’ll make sure I return the favour sometime, with bells on it.’

  Bill pushed his way back to the table. ‘Sorry Julie,’ he tried to smile, ‘got to go. Duty calls.’ He paused, ‘Can I see you again, or maybe give you a bell?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ her voice sounded husky. ‘We don’t really know each other.’ She looked away from him and turned to speak to Harry.

  ‘Damn! Damn!’ he muttered as he left Donovan’s. ‘I didn’t even get her phone number.’ The Coca Cola can he kicked clattered along the street and bounced off the wall. It made him feel slightly better, although not much.

  ***

  Julie watched Bill leave the pub. His shoulders had slumped when she turned away from him and now, as she watched him, he seemed to have a dejected look, rather like a dog who had been kicked. For a brief moment she wanted to run after him, but she didn’t.

  ‘Why’d you give him the brush off?’ Harry gave her a quizzical look. ‘He seemed a nice enough chap.’

  ‘Yes,’ Julie’s voice was slow and thoughtful, ‘but I don’t know him. He could be anybody. Besides I don’t want complications in my life.’ She gulped her drink trying to rid herself of the guilt that was flooding through her, because, when Bill had been with her she had not thought of Dave once. Her eyes clouded with the suggestion of tears as she turned her thoughts to Dave. As long as he was part of her, even in death, there was no room for anyone else.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The twins, Jake and Charlie, were being tucked into bed when Claire heard Ken’s car pull into the driveway. ‘Cuddle down now,’ she said in a calm voice that masked her annoyance, ‘it’s just your Daddy coming home.’

  Jake struggled upright, ‘Wanna get up,’ he mumbled, although his eyes were almost closed.

  ‘Hush now,’ she said laying him down again. ‘You’ll see him in the morning.’

  Jake sighed and pulled the covers under his chin. Claire gave him a quick hug. ‘Me too,’ Charlie leaned forward out of the bottom bunk.

  ‘As if I’d ever miss you, chum.’ Claire bent down and gathered him to her in a quick hug before releasing him onto the pillow and pulling his quilt over him.

  ‘Don’t close the door.’

  Claire smiled. Charlie liked to play at being tough, but he was still afraid of the dark. ‘I won’t,’ she promised. ‘Go to sleep now.’

  The room next door was smaller, not much more than a box room, but it was big enough for Catriona who was the baby of the family. Claire peeped into the small cot bed where Catriona lay, her little mouth blowing bubbles while she slept, and dropped a light kiss on her forehead. ‘Sleep now,’ she said, as she softly closed the door behind her.

  The click of the door latch acted like the release button for her anger. She had hardly taken two steps along the landing before the pain in her stomach erupted, gnawing at her like some animal trapped, trying to find a way out where no way out existed. Claire gasped and sat on the top stair until both the pain and her anger were under control. She had never liked displays of violent emotions thinking that, in some way, they were demeaning. Therefore, she had been taken aback at the strength of her feeling about Ken’s latest extra-marital adventure, unable to understand why this one was any different and why she disliked Nicole as much as she did.

  It might have helped if she had been able to claw Nicole’s eyes out, but that was not Claire’s style. Although she was no longer sure what her style was. Maybe it was calm, civilized, or simply just long-suffering. A sudden thought struck her. Maybe she enjoyed being a martyr. It was not a pleasant thought, but she still could not bring herself to lose control.

  Claire too
k several deep breaths before standing up and walking downstairs to where she could hear Ken moving about in the kitchen. She leaned against the doorjamb and watched him as he rummaged in the fridge, wondering when he was going to acknowledge she was there.

  Ken stripped the ring pull off a can of beer and, turning, he kicked the fridge door shut with his heel, smiling at her at the same time.

  ‘You’re home then!’ Claire bit her lip and kept her voice low, although she wanted to scream at him.

  Ken looked at her over the top of the can as he put it to his mouth and drank. His eyes flickered and he blinked as if he was trying to hold something back.

  The hard knot of pain gripped Claire’s insides again. ‘You bastard,’ she muttered, her voice sibilant with disgust. ‘You’ve been with her, and you have the cheek to come back here as if nothing’s happened.’

  ‘Don’t know what you mean.’ Ken’s eyes widened proclaiming his innocence.

  ‘Oh, come off it. You know exactly what I mean.’ Claire’s voice had risen. ‘You’ve been with that blonde tart. I can almost smell her on you.’ All her suppressed feelings exploded in a surge of anger and she thumped the door with her fist. She stared at her hand unable to believe she had reacted so violently. But the pain from the blow was real. Her eyes widened with fright at her lack of control and she modulated her breathing to restrain her emotions. As she regained her composure a hard knot settled in her gut like a stone weight.

  ‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ Ken’s smile was smug. ‘I’ve been with Patrick all night. We were discussing my plan for the store.’ His smile broadened. ‘He likes my ideas and I’m only safeguarding our future.’

  Claire stared, wanting to believe him. He did not have his little boy, hangdog look though, so maybe this time he was telling the truth. ‘You won’t want your dinner then,’ she said as she left the kitchen, ‘just as well because I turned the oven off two hours ago.’