The Watcher : A Chilling Serial Killer Thriller

by Netta Newbound

  For Lenny, it was as though he’d died and gone to heaven. To be paid to stay home and potter around the place, giving them bags of time off, was a dream come true.

  But, Max didn’t mind. He knew the place was much too hard for him to deal with himself, and he wasn’t able to make it home every weekend. He needed people he could trust and rely on to keep the place up to scratch in his absence.

  Lenny was sitting on the tiny veranda of the cottage, as he walked around to the front. “There you are, buddy. I heard your garage door open earlier, and came to check it was you—it’s unlike you to be here during the week. Is everything alright?”

  “Oh, sorry. I meant to warn you I was coming. I had a full-on weekend. One of my security officers had an accident. He fell down the lift shaft.”

  “Shit! How the hell did that happen?”

  “It’s a total mystery. The police believe he was trying to find the fault, and lost his balance.”

  Lenny squinted his eyes. “You don’t think so?”

  Max shrugged. “Seems crazy he would do that. He’d worked for me for years, and was Head of Security, so not a stupid, young thing.”

  “Do you think somebody pushed him?”

  Max shook his head rapidly. “No. Nothing like that. The security footage shows him approach the lift shaft alone.”

  “So, what are you thinking?”

  Max laughed. “You know me so well, Len. Steve was a hard-working, older man, nearing retirement. I know he struggled with the more physical side of the job, so he’d have to hang up his uniform for good soon enough.”

  “So, you think he did it on purpose?”

  Max nodded. “I haven’t said anything. It would kill his family, if that were the case. Better everybody thinks it was an accident.”

  “Will he get a pay-out?”

  Max nodded. “A hefty one. As Head of Security, an insurance policy was part of his package.”

  “So, if he was going to do it at all, it makes sense for it to be at work?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Fancy a beer?” Lenny got to his feet, as Charmaine appeared in the doorway, two bottles of Mexican beer in her hands.

  “Beat you to it.” She laughed.

  They settled around the wooden outdoor furniture, and chatted about the house and local gossip. Max left after an hour or so and strolled back to his place.

  At six-thirty, he called Hannah’s phone, but it went unanswered.

  ***

  Hannah was wrapped in her robe, curled up on the sofa in front of the TV. She’d eaten half of the pizza by the time the phone rang again.

  She debated whether or not to answer it, but she’d never been any good at letting a call go unanswered. “Hello?” she said, after the fifth ring. Her stomach was in knots.

  “Hannah? It’s Max Myers.”

  “Hi, Max.” Her voice sounded childlike to her ears.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch since Friday evening, but I’m sure you’ve heard about Steven Miller.”

  “Yes, I did. Shocking news.”

  “I intended to call you tonight, anyway. I’ve escaped for a few days to the lake house, but I’ll be back on Thursday for Steven’s funeral.”

  “Okay,” she said, wishing he’d get to the point.

  “But, I’ve received an email from Angela Beanie. She said you’d requested to be taken off the Leno campaign.”

  “Yes. That’s correct.”

  “May I ask you why?”

  “It’s just not for me. I’ve only been working here two minutes. I don’t want the rest of the team to think I’m getting preferential treatment.”

  There was a silent pause on the other end of the phone. “But, you’re not. Danny Leno requested you,” he eventually said.

  “Still, it’s not very fair on the others.”

  “Was it because he didn’t show on Friday? I thought we had a good time.”

  “It’s nothing to do with that. And, yes, I enjoyed myself. But, you’re my boss, and I’m your employee. I don’t want to blur the lines.”

  “Can we meet on Thursday? After work.”

  “I’d rather not. I don’t want people talking.”

  “Screw everybody else. I like you, Hannah. I thought you liked me?”

  “Yeah, well, I refuse to be just another conquest. If you insist on a meeting, I’d prefer it to be in the office within work hours.”

  “Another conquest? I don’t make a habit of feeling like this! In fact, this is the first time.”

  “I’m sorry, but I need to go. I’ll see you on Thursday at some point, Mr Myers.” With that, she hung up.

  Tears flowed down her face, but she was proud of herself. She wouldn’t be treated like just another star-struck employee. No way.

  No longer hungry, she slid the pizza box onto the coffee table.

  Chapter 15

  On Thursday morning, Max left the lake house bright and early hoping to miss the rush-hour traffic. The weatherman on the local radio station seemed far too cheerful, informing the morning listeners the weather would turn cloudy, and there was a seventy-five percent chance of rain.

  But, Max was a hundred percent sure it would. In fact, it had already begun spitting, and the sky had turned dark and moody-grey, exactly what they didn’t need, considering they had Steve’s funeral scheduled for 2.30pm.

  He knew there was no shelter outside the crematorium. Not only would it be solemn, but it would also be windy and wet.

  He scrolled through his contacts using the steering wheel buttons, and called Angela’s number.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Angela. It’s only me. Sorry to call you so early, but I’ve just heard the weather forecast for today. I think we’d better arrange a large gazebo for the funeral. Can you organise that for me, please?”

  “All in hand, Max. I spoke with the funeral home last week, and asked them to check weather predictions on the day. I told them if the chance of rain was forty-five percent or above, they should arrange a gazebo to be erected out the front for a dry entrance from the car park.”

  “That’s excellent, Angela. I should have guessed you’d be one step ahead of the game. I’d like to say how pleased I am with your overall efforts, and I’ll arrange for us to have a chat as soon as things settle down. Is that okay?”

  “Thanks, Max. But, I’m only doing what you pay me to do.”

  “You’re always helping me reward loyalty and hard work. You’re not exempt from that, you know.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it, Max.”

  “Oh, and I received your email about Hannah McLaughlin. What exactly did she say to you?”

  “Not a lot, really. Just that she wanted to be taken off the campaign.”

  “Can you do a bit of digging for me? I have a feeling she’s being bullied. She was raring to go on Friday.”

  Angela didn’t say anything.

  “Are you there, Angela?”

  “Yes, I’m still here. I have a feeling she may be getting a bit of stick for her relationship with you.”

  “What relationship? We had a business dinner—nothing more. Find out who’s causing trouble, and have them waiting for me in my office when I get there.”

  “That might be a little tricky. You see, she won’t say who it is. But, leave it with me. I’ll see what I can find out.” She ended the call.

  A short while later, Max pulled the car up to the barriers of the underground carpark at AdCor, although he couldn’t remember driving the last few miles since leaving the motorway.

  He took the lift to the top floor. He preferred the flat adjoining his office to the lake house in a lot of ways. It was nothing special, just a converted office space, with a practical double bed along the far wall, a two-seater sofa placed to take in the outstanding city views, as well as the flat screen TV, and a compact bathroom.

  He sighed, as he noticed Angela had dug his funeral suit out of the fitted wardrobe. The plastic covering with ticket attached showed she’d
had it cleaned for him, too. He hadn’t thought about that.

  He showered, and changed into casual clothes, planning to put on his suit a little later.

  Sitting at his desk, he switched on his laptop to check his emails. One had come in from Don Henry, explaining he and two guards would attend the funeral, and any others who wished to pay their respects would attend the wake at the family home after 5pm. Don also said he and the other two would cover the night shift tonight. Max didn’t need to reply.

  He swivelled in his seat to face the window, just as a flash of lightning lit up the dreary sky. A boom of thunder followed immediately after. Max shook his head, as the heavens opened.

  ***

  Hannah was surprised to find Angela sitting at her desk when she arrived that morning.

  “Ah, Hannah, there you are. Can we have a little chat?” Angela said.

  Hannah glanced around the busy office and nodded. Then, she followed the other woman out to the communal area.

  “Max called me this morning,” Angela said. “He’s angry, and is demanding to know who’s been talking to you.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t say a word.”

  “See to it that you don’t. I only told you in the first place, because I didn’t want him making a fool out of you. Needless to say, my job would be on the line, if he knew it was me.”

  “I said I won’t say anything, and I meant it.”

  Angela’s face was set in a stern expression. She turned to leave, without another word.

  Hannah headed back to her desk. As she was returning from lunch later on, she spotted Max. He and several members of staff were gathering in the foyer, ready to go to Steven Miller’s funeral. She couldn’t help notice how handsome he looked in his charcoal grey tailored suit, crisp white shirt, and black and grey paisley tie. But, he didn’t notice her.

  She was more than a little annoyed he hadn’t sought her out that morning, especially after the phone call last night.

  ***

  As they followed the funeral procession, Max couldn’t stop thinking about Hannah. He decided to ignore her wishes, and turn up at her flat later, bearing gifts. He was looking forward to seeing her in her own environment. Away from prying eyes, he was certain she’d be more at ease, rather than calling her to his office during business hours.

  They parked outside the crematorium, and Max patted Angela on the shoulder, nodding at the pouring rain. “Thank goodness for your forward planning.”

  They ducked from the car and gathered underneath the large white gazebo. Moments later, Steve’s casket was carried inside from the hearse, and placed at the front of the chapel by six burly men.

  Max, Angela, and the security staff filled the back row of the tiny room. Max admired how the whole scene was tastefully done. After liaising with Steve’s wife, Angela had arranged the flowers, chairs, and music. All costs were being charged to the company.

  The service was emotional, but pleasant, as funerals go. After the formalities, Max got in line to pay his respects to Steve’s wife and close family. Then, he stopped directly in front of a framed picture nestled amongst the flowers. Steven was in his police uniform, and, although it was years ago, he’d hardly changed. His chiselled good looks had stayed with him through to his sixties. The easy smile and twinkly eyes had been captured perfectly, and Max felt choked up. He would miss Steve very much.

  Stepping aside to allow the line of mourners to take turns, he glanced at Don, who was hugging Mrs Miller. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could tell Steve’s widow wasn’t comfortable with him. Max knew how she felt. Although he couldn’t put his finger on it, Don made him feel the same. He wasn’t a patch on his predecessor.

  As Don moved to the flower table, Max decided he’d find another Head of Security. Don was fine as assistant head, but he lacked the people skills to fulfil the role to its full potential.

  Don, who had his back to him, was now looking at Steven’s photo. Max could see the other man’s reflection in a huge mirrored plaque on the wall. He was smiling. Well, not really smiling, more of a self-satisfied smirk. Suddenly, Don caught sight of Max in the mirror, and his expression changed dramatically, this time to a menacing, piercing glare.

  Startled as someone grasped his arm, Max spun around, tearing his eyes away from the other man. Mrs Miller looked up at him.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there,” he said.

  “Mr Myers, I meant to thank you for all your support. We will be forever grateful.”

  “No thanks needed,” he said, glancing back to where Don had been. There was no sign of him. “Steven will be sadly missed, and not only as a valued employee. I classed him as a good friend.”

  “And he you, Mr Myers.”

  Max scanned the rest of the room over his companion’s head, but couldn’t see any sign of Don. He had a bad feeling about this. “It has been a privilege and an honour to be able to assist today. If either you, or the family, needs anything, you call me. Oh, and please, call me Max.”

  “It’s comforting to know that. Thank you, Max. And I insist you call me Nora.”

  He patted her arm. “I will, Nora.”

  “Are you coming back to the house for a bite to eat?”

  “I intend to, although I can’t stay long, I’m afraid,” he said.

  “I understand.”

  As she walked away, Max once again searched for Don. He had a prickly feeling at the base of his neck. Things were definitely not as they seemed. He’d always had a sixth sense, mainly in business, but occasionally with people. It had saved him many times from making poor business decisions, and helped him succeed, once he had learnt to trust his inner voice. This was one of those occasions. He would need to do some digging next week into the background of his temporary security head.

  Chapter 16

  The office was very quiet for a change, not the usual buzz. Hannah presumed everybody had gone to the funeral. Either that, or they were skiving off while the management were away. But, even those people who were there seemed subdued. She knew Steve Miller was popular around the office, but she hadn’t known him very well. He’d solved the mystery of her missing gym clothes, and then politely contacted her again, asking if she was settling in okay, but she got the feeling he was a genuine guy.

  Unable to concentrate, she headed to the day room, and poured herself a cup of stewed coffee.

  She was still feeling the effects of the night she’d spent with Simon. It had been ten months since she’d had a boyfriend, and she hadn’t been willing to take it any further, even then. What the hell was wrong with her?

  And the man she wanted was totally out of bounds, yet she couldn’t shake the feelings she had for him. Stupidly, if she didn’t know better, she’d say she was falling hard.

  She had got Simon’s email address off Diane, but although she sent him quite a wordy apology, he hadn’t replied. She’d also noticed his car was still parked in the usual spot. But, then, it would be, wouldn’t it? If she was heading overseas indefinitely, the last thing she’d do was leave the car at the airport. It would cost an arm and a leg.

  ***

  Don Henry left the funeral, after proving he was far superior to the lot of them. He’d played his part with Miller’s old bitch of a wife, consoling her, and taking great satisfaction in the fact she would never know he’d murdered her husband.

  His only concern now was Maxwell-fucking-Myers. Don had seen the way he’d been looking at him, and would have no choice but to sort the bastard out, if anything came of it.

  After arriving back at the flat, he checked Simon’s phone and laptop for any correspondence. There were several text messages from Diane, and someone called JD asking for Simon to confirm he was okay, and two emails, one from Simon’s mother, giving him a telling off only mothers know how to do. The second email was from Hannah, who waffled on and on about how much she wanted to remain friends—blah, blah, blah. Didn’t the stupid girl realise the favour he’d done for her?
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  He replied to them all, sticking to the original story. To Hannah, he apologised for taking advantage of her, knowing there would be no chance of a future together.

  He glanced at his watch at 4.30pm. Although pushing his luck, he needed to let himself into Hannah’s flat briefly to alter the position of one of the bedroom cameras.

  He had no need to break in. He’d fixed the locks by removing the small brass pins from inside the barrel, and now any similar key would open the door. He walked directly into Hannah’s flat and through to the bedroom. He pulled her bed out from the wall. On the far side of the bed, he removed the side table, and placed it and miscellaneous other items on the floor. Then, he reached up to the corner of the room, and altered the position of the camera in a disused motion detector. Racing against the clock, he hurriedly pushed the furniture back.

  As he pulled the door closed behind him, a woman suddenly appeared from next door.

  “Hello. You gave me a start,” she said. “Can I help you?” She glanced from him to Hannah’s front door.

  “No, I’m fine, thanks. If you’re looking for Hannah, she’s not home from work yet,” he said, his mind reeling.

  She nodded. “I heard the front door opening, and thought she must have got home early. I’m Diane. I live next door. You must be Max. Hannah’s told me all about you.” She looked him up and down taking in his smart black suit.

  Don smiled, and shook her hand. What the fuck did she mean? Why would she think he was Max? “Pleased to meet you, Diane. I must rush.”

  “Me too. I’m off to work. I’ll walk down with you.”

  Thankfully, Don had his keys in his pocket. He’d intended leaving anyway, before Hannah returned home, so he smiled, and fell into step beside the short, dumpy doctor. “Do you work at the infirmary?” he asked, as they jogged down the stairs.