He is Watching You

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘I’m going to arrest him if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘Of course you are, and that’s exactly what I meant. So much for a tenuous link!’

  ‘Well, I said it was tenuous for a court. It’s more than enough for me.’

  ‘Understood. I’ll have a look at the call log, too — see if anyone’s reported a stolen truck. Would that change things?’

  ‘It might. If it’s been reported, I’ll need to know the circumstances. We have a list of people who were at the shoot that morning, too. Make sure we check them all for any links to this construction company.’

  ‘Understood. Leave it with me, sir. I’ll try and have something for when you get back in.’

  ‘Thanks. One last thing . . . the team were out doing house to house in the area. Can you have them revisit anyone they got details for? We’ll need to ask them specifically if they saw a white truck in the area.’

  ‘Got it. Leave it with me.’

  Chapter 14

  ‘Goddammit!’ Maddie’s frustration boiled over. Unfamiliar computer systems, any number of new passwords and not knowing where the hell she should go to for help were conspiring to ruin her day. For maybe the first time in her career, she couldn’t wait for her shift to be over.

  ‘Sorry . . . Sergeant Ives?’

  Maddie looked up. A young-looking, slim girl in a police officer’s uniform hovered at the end of the row of desks. Her black t-shirt was sucked in around a non-existent waist and tucked firmly into black, baggy trousers. Her dark hair was tied back and she had pretty, dark eyes that managed to stand out on a pretty face.

  ‘Yes! Damned passwords! They’re the bane of my life.’

  The girl offered a tentative smile. ‘I . . . er . . . I wanted to ask you about something. You’re the misper expert — is that right?’

  ‘Expert! Goodness, no. Right now I am a fraud and an imposter, I’m afraid.’ Maddie sensed that her sarcasm was lost on her young visitor. ‘Sorry, I think I am supposed to be the misper expert, yes. I’m a little way from that, but maybe I can help. Wassup?’

  The girl looked down at the post-it note she had been clutching tightly. She seemed to be hesitating.

  ‘You know what, it doesn’t matter. I think I might have answered my own question,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, come on! I’ve achieved the square root of bugger-all so far today and I go home in one hour. This might be my big chance! At least run it past me.’

  ‘Really, it’s okay. I was told not to bother you with this. My sergeant . . . he doesn’t even know I’m here. He told me just to drop it. He was right. I’m just out of my probation — I know I can get ahead of myself sometimes.’

  Maddie sat back from her desk, turned her chair to face the girl and folded her arms. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘PC Davies.’

  ‘That’s not your name, is it? What’s your name?’

  ‘Rhiannon. Some people here seem to call me Rhi. I don’t think I like it.’

  ‘So Rhiannon then. I’m Maddie. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing here to be honest. This is my second day in Lennockshire. But I’ll level with you, Rhiannon . . . none of us do, really. You’ve got thirty-year coppers out there and I promise you they’re stumped at least once a day, probably more. Don’t listen to what people say about your length of service. For example, I bet you can work this computer system, right? And I sure as hell don’t know who your sergeant is. I couldn’t squeal on you even if I wanted to!’

  The girl seemed to relax and stepped closer. She pointed at the keyboard. ‘Do you mind? It might be easier if I show you what I wanted to talk to you about.’

  ‘Oh, please do.’

  Maddie watched as Rhiannon moved confidently through menus and typed quickly so that the changing formats on screen were just a blur. For the younger generation, it seemed to be second nature.

  ‘I don’t know what you know about our body-worn camera system . . . Basically we all have one and we upload the footage to here at the end of every shift.’

  ‘Okay, makes sense.’ Maddie was aware that body-worn was pretty commonplace in modern day policing. She had seen it introduced in Greater Manchester. The cameras had been issued to firearms officers first but rolled out to all uniform roles soon after. She had never operated one herself. Covert cameras were more her thing. All uniform officers now had bulky cameras jutting out from their chests. In her previous job it would have been rather counterproductive.

  ‘I went to a call, Friday last week. It was a report from a neighbour of screaming from the flat below. When I got there the door was answered by a Lorraine Humphries. She’s reasonably well known around here. The flat’s her home address. She said that nothing had been going on and the screams must have come from somewhere else.’

  ‘And you didn’t believe her?’

  ‘I didn’t. She looked pretty scared to me. I know I’m new, but you get a feeling, don’t you?’

  ‘You do. The good cops do at least.’

  ‘I talked her into letting me in. I had a look around as much as I could. My being there seemed to make her even more nervous, even more insistent that there was no one else there. I got the feeling that she was trying to tell me something — I just couldn’t work out what. It got to the point where I couldn’t stay there any longer.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Rhiannon checked her post-it note and typed in a counter time. A woman appeared on the screen, frozen mid-movement. The image had a play symbol across it. The woman on the screen had long brown hair that she wore down. It looked like it needed a brush dragging through it. Her eyes were red, as if perhaps she had been crying. Her cheeks and nose had a red hue to them too.

  ‘So this is her? This is Lorraine? Well, I agree she doesn’t look happy.’

  ‘This is my body-worn. I was leaving at this point. I just wasn’t sure about the whole thing. I couldn’t stop thinking about it so I watched it back.’ Rhiannon leaned over to click again and then straightened back up. The video started playing. Lorraine Humphries was animated, her movements jerky and rigid, consistent with someone feeling tension. She thanked Rhiannon over and over for coming, though she seemed desperate for the officer to leave. Over-politeness was another sign of tension.

  ‘Well, she’s not telling you everything. And she’s definitely scared of something.’

  ‘She is, but it’s not her. Watch again, but look behind her.’ Rhiannon started the footage again. Maddie leant in and concentrated. The shadow moving across the hall behind her was now easy to spot. It was quick. Blink and you’d miss it. Maddie didn’t miss it. She moved away from the screen. Rhiannon paused the recording.

  ‘So there was someone else there?’

  ‘Yes. And Lorraine’s now missing.’

  Maddie felt a spark of excitement flash through her. The sort she’d feared she might never feel again.

  ‘And you think something’s wrong?’

  ‘I don’t know. She was terrified. You can see that, right? And there was a back door to that place. I had a look at it. It’s the ground-floor flat. It took me a while to talk my way in to have a look around. I was on my own at the front door. Someone in the house could have gone out the back in that time no problem at all. I wouldn’t have known and I wouldn’t have found them.’

  ‘So they hung around and came back in.’

  ‘They did. And maybe they were angry. I just had a bad feeling when I came away. It was like there was bad feeling in that house and I kinda brought it out with me. Am I making any sense?’

  ‘It’s your gut again. Not everyone is blessed with that instinct. You’re right to listen to it. Hang on, though . . . your sergeant said not to worry about it?’

  ‘Yeah. He knows Lorraine Humphries only too well. They all do. She’s a bit of a drinker. She’s known to us for night-time economy offences, but also for anti-social stuff during daylight hours. She’s been missing before, too, quite a few times, I think. You know what it’s like when you get your regulars. My
sergeant said that she’ll probably be in a gutter somewhere covered in her own sick and sleeping off a binge. He’s probably right.’

  ‘But he could be wrong.’

  ‘I’ve met her a couple of times and she’s always hammered. She wasn’t that night — not from what I could tell.’

  Maddie was trying to click back through the computer systems. Missing persons were handled on a totally separate system from everything else. Her password was rejected for the umpteenth time.

  ‘It’s case sensitive. Your caps lock is on. Knock that off and give it a go,’ Rhiannon said.

  Maddie did as she was told. She took her time and the system let her in.

  ‘Ah! See? Teamwork!’ A menu loaded. She had no idea what she should do next. ‘Can you bring her up? Lorraine Humphries, I mean. I assume she has her own screen?’

  ‘Yeah, they all do.’ Rhiannon’s hands were a blur again. The screen changed. The new one had Lorraine HUMPHRIES at the top then underneath was her home address, date of birth and Sixteenth report in bold letters.

  ‘Sixteen reports? I assume that means sixteen times missing?’

  ‘Yes. And that’s just the times we have on record. I had a look into her background. When she lived with her husband, he used to report her missing a lot. Since they split it’s hardly happened. I guess she lives alone and no one knows if she’s missing or not. He reported her this time too, but by then she had been missing a few days.’

  ‘What made him report it?’

  ‘He called in when she missed an appointment to see their child. The daughter lives with him. He said it was out of character. We’re duty bound to take it as a missing person report because he said that bit. Otherwise there is no way we would be looking for her. As it was, my sergeant was going to write it off, but then we had a second call, an anonymous one, saying something similar. That she was missing and it was out of character. He had to allocate it out then.’

  ‘Anonymous. That is a shame. We could do with knowing who that was.’

  ‘Well, actually, in this instance we kinda do.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yeah. It was me.’ Rhiannon immediately brought her hand up to her mouth like she had said something horribly wrong. ‘God! I don’t know why I’m telling you this! You’re not going to get me in trouble, are you?’

  Maddie felt herself smile for the first time that day. ‘I’d give you a medal first. That’s good thinking. You weren’t being taken seriously so you thought outside of the box. I reckon you’re going to be alright, you know — at this policing lark, I mean.’

  Rhiannon blushed. Then she smiled broadly.

  ‘So how can we tell what’s been done?’

  Rhiannon moved back to the computer. The screen changed again so it looked like a spreadsheet. This one had a more obvious layout. Maddie could see a chronological list of actions that had been completed with notes next to them. It was all stuff that smacked of standard procedure. The home address had been attended. They couldn’t gain entry and they had knocked at a few neighbours’ doors with no real results.

  ‘Is this it? This is all that’s been done?’

  ‘So far. I only made my call yesterday. Before that, nothing had happened at all. I called after my shift. I was passing, see, and I went to check if she was in. The mail was stacking up and there were no signs of life that I could see. It’s been a week. In his call, her husband said he knew she attended a meeting on Fridays. My call out was the day before that so she must have been okay that night. I was just going to finish up here and try again today, but . . .’

  ‘That feeling.’

  ‘I can’t shake it.’

  ‘Not much has been done. Do you fancy going back?’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because you said you were off in an hour?’

  ‘Less than that now. But I’m used to a finish time being more of a guide. I was kinda hoping it would be like that down here too. Let’s go and make sure your girl is okay. I assume you have a police car, right? And I haven’t been in one of those for a long, long time.’

  Both girls grinned as they swept out of the office.

  * * *

  He closed the door to his flat gently. He felt instant relief at shutting out the weak daylight — along with everything else. All his blinds were tightly shut, just how he liked them. He could almost convince himself that the rest of the world didn’t exist. His afternoon’s job had taken much longer than he had anticipated; the traffic had been congested on the motorway, closed for a time in both directions. He had been forced to sit and wait. He wasn’t good at waiting. It was worse today.

  But he was home now. He leant on the back of the door, lingering on the sensation of the wood against his hands. He could smell the paint and polish. His whole body shivered with excitement. He wanted desperately to fire up his phone immediately and sit there in the dark, streaming the images from the remote camera to his television. But he was making it last. He was fooling himself that he might not even watch it all, that it was wrong to do so. But he knew what he was. He was an addict and he needed his fix.

  He took off his shoes and socks. His hands trembled and he struggled over the laces. He sunk his bare feet into the thick carpet, relishing the feel of being so grounded. He moved through to the bathroom, finally turning on a light, and leant on the sink. He took a moment to take in his face in the mirror. His eyes were backlit with excitement, his lips slightly parted and his breathing quick and shallow. He shook his head briefly. He knew the real turmoil would come later, after he had got his fix, when his release came. He would hate himself. Maybe even punish himself, too. His right hand ran over his left forearm. He turned it over so he could see where the scar tissue stood out from his skin. Years of self-chastisement, years of trying to inflict pain on himself — recompense for the pain of others. He wanted to stop. He had tried. He used to cling onto that. He wasn’t so hard on himself any more, though, despite knowing that it was escalating. You were what you were.

  He could wait no longer. He turned away from the mirror and tugged the light switch. The blackout blinds did their job effectively; there was just enough light to navigate his way to the kitchen. He took out a glass. He had left a bottle of red wine on the side. He walked it back through to the living room and sat down. He poured a large measure and placed it carefully on a low table. The technology to project his phone onto the television screen was fired up with one button. The screen fell black with only a digital time showing in the top right-hand corner. The camera was active. He had to control the shake in his hand so that he could work his phone to turn on the light. He bit down on his lip. His heart raced as he moved to the edge of the seat. His whole body was tensed with excitement. He pressed the screen and lifted his head. There followed a few seconds’ delay . . .

  Chapter 15

  She was pretty sure she was dreaming. It was a comfortable dream. She was wrapped up tight in a soft blanket. It had a strong smell that she couldn’t place. Her mother was holding her and she was looking down and smiling. She was tickling her belly and telling her everything was going to be okay. It was dark and she could only just make out her face. Her frizzy hair, her soft skin, her dark eyes.

  Then she was gone. Replaced by a bright light that was all-consuming — it was as if she was inside it. She slammed her eyes shut and turned her head towards the floor. Her neck shot with pain. Her eyelids still glowed white where the light was forcing its way through. She twitched involuntarily as something landed on her mouth. She didn’t think she was dreaming anymore. With her head turned away from the light, she opened her eyes a little. She could see a ridged, green floor. It was blurry, something was moving ­— it was small, white and moving from side to side. It reminded her of old computer games, the sort she used to love as a child, where the aliens moved in predictable patterns so you could avoid them if you timed it right. She tried to move her hands to swipe it away. They were still secured, wrapped against her body. Sh
e could feel the effort of trying to move them through her stomach.

  Her eyes adjusted a little more. She could see the moving pattern in more detail.

  A maggot!

  She sucked in a mouthful of air in a panic. A lump came with it. She spat it out instinctively. A thick, black fly fell onto the floor. It landed on its back. It bucked and fidgeted to right itself. It had a green, shiny back. She fought back the urge to vomit. She knew how much that would hurt. She shut her eyes for just a few seconds so she could focus on her breathing. She needed to stay calm.

  She lifted her head. She was in some sort of metal container. The walls were filthy, running with slick, brown mould that was shiny with moisture against the matt-green paint. Maybe that was the source of the smell? She tried to turn over. The source of the light seemed to be right in front of her, bright in her eyes. Her stomach hurt, her neck, too. One of her shoulders was exposed; she could feel bare skin against the metal floor. She channelled all her energy and started to rock. It took a few goes to build up enough momentum and her head rolled close to the floor as she did so. She could see a lot more maggots; they fell around her from somewhere. She tried to shut her mind to that. All her focus was on her movement.

  Finally she rolled. Now she could see across to the other side of the container. It was bigger than she had imagined. There was a roll of what looked like a light-coloured, patchy carpet next to her. Its surface looked fuzzy, like it was moving. She shook her head to try and clear her eyes, doing her best to ignore the pain in her neck. Black bits were lifting off and falling back onto it. It wasn’t fuzzy. The surface was a mass of flies! The buzzing was suddenly prominent. She had been used to it, but now seeing the source seemed to make it louder.

  She took in more air. This time she sucked in through her nose, her lips tightly pursed. She could feel the panic rising up through her but she fought it with all she had. She slammed her eyes shut again and tried to focus on something else — anything else. She twitched her hands. Her right one had some give at least. She pulled it upwards and it moved a couple of inches. She ignored the pain and used her growing panic as a source of strength to push it back down and pull it up again, trying to work it loose. It was working. It was still painful, but it was working. If she strained her eyes she could see down her own body. She could see the flies bustling and jostling for position, but she could also see the plastic sheeting that was wrapped so tightly around her. Her panic subsided enough for her to feel tired. The exhaustion started to consume her; it came over her like a cloak. She opened her eyes to fight it. She tried to study her surroundings, to pick out details. Something to focus on.