The Watcher : A Chilling Serial Killer Thriller

by Netta Newbound

  Chapter 46

  Max had no idea how long he’d been out. Don was gone. The pain in his head throbbed like a bitch. He was certain that last whack had done permanent damage.

  He scanned the room for something to help get him out of the chair. He kept a pair of scissors in the drawer, but there was no way he’d be able to make it over there.

  The sound of whistling alerted Max that Don was on his way back. Max recognised the tune—he’d heard it many times as a child. The Teddy Bears’ Picnic. The crazy bastard had totally lost his marbles.

  Don appeared in the doorway. “Ah, so you’re awake—I was looking for something which might get you to open your eyes—it’s no fun torturing an unconscious person.”

  “Why are you doing this, Don? Please—just tell me.”

  “Because you think you can do what the fuck you like, with no comeback.”

  “I told you. Cheryl was mistaken. The job was yours.”

  “Do you really think I believed any of that fucking bullshit? You were just trying to shut me up—get me out of your face.”

  “Honestly, Don. The job was yours. Could still be yours, if you just let me go.”

  Don chuckled, shaking his head. “And what? You’d forget all about this, would you? Greet me in the corridor tomorrow morning, and bid me good day?”

  “It may be strained at first, but yes. I’d be willing to try, if you stop this right now.” He wanted to scream, YOU FUCKING MANIAC, but he couldn’t. His only hope was to convince the crazy son-of-a-bitch to let him go!

  “But, what about the others? Are you willing to forgive what I did to them?”

  Max’s stomach dropped. Visions of Hannah immediately sprang to mind. “What others?”

  He grinned. “Ah, well, let me see. Now, first there was Steve. The stupid bastard thought he could get one over on me. Sneaking around and creeping up on me, as though I didn’t know he was there! Me! I’m a trained soldier, for fuck’s sake. But, I waited, let him think he’d caught me red-handed, and then, boom!”

  Max winced. He’d never suspected someone else might be responsible for Steve’s death.

  “Oh, the sound he made when he splattered at the bottom of that lift shaft was harmonic.”

  Tears streamed down Max’s face, he couldn’t stop them.

  “And who was next? Ah, yes, Simon Fowler. Hannah’s next door neighbour.”

  “What? I don’t…”

  “You ought to be thanking me for him. Did you know he fucked our lovely Hannah every which way possible? For hours, they were at it. Like dirty fucking rabbits.” Don’s eyes lit up, and he laughed. “Fucking rabbits…do you get it?”

  Max closed his eyes, everything suddenly making sense. “You planted that stuff in Angela’s locker, didn’t you?”

  “Sheer stroke of genius, that. Your lake house is nice, by the way. I thought yours was the front cottage at first, but no—I should’ve known Maxwell-fucking-Myers only has the biggest and best of everything. Sorry about the bed—it looked like it would’ve been a comfy mattress.”

  The intense fury Max felt was dampened by the need to close his eyes. He’d lost a lot of blood, but it was the head injury he was worried about.

  “Don’t go to sleep, Max. I’m getting to the best bit.” Don shoved Max’s forehead, making his head flop backwards.

  Max winced.

  “You’re pretty tough for a Nancy-boy, aren’t you? Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes. The doctor.”

  Max opened one eye. He stared at Don.

  Don nodded. “Yeah. That was me. She seemed nice. Pity, but the silly bitch spotted me coming out of Hannah’s flat, and so she had to go. I made it quick. She didn’t suffer.”

  “How? Why were you not seen on the hospital cameras?”

  “I went in the back way, stayed far to the left of the corridors, and walked around every area. A man in a security uniform is rarely spotted, or questioned. You’re forgetting—I’m an expert at this. My training was intense and complete. Mostly, I was chosen to infiltrate gangs and gather intelligence, because of the way I look. I’m so ordinary in appearance people rarely remember my face unless they’ve seen me several times. She did though. Diane. She remembered my face.”

  Max’s head lolled forwards again. There was a strange buzzing sound in one of his ears. “You’re completely loopy,” he slurred.

  “When Hannah’s sweet, and very fucking sexy…” Don nodded incredulously. “…mother saw me. I knew she had to be next. I regret that one, because, as I’ve just said, the odds on her recognising me were negligible.”

  “She’s not dead,” Max said. But, it sounded more like, “Seeznotdead.”

  “She’s not dead? Open your eyes, you fuckwit.” Don prodded at him again. “Did you say she’s not dead?”

  Max nodded slightly, his eyes still shut.

  “That’s great news. I wanted to fuck that woman so badly, I’ve regretted killing her ever since.”

  Max tried to lift his head. Only one eye would open fully, but he wanted to smash Don’s face right in. Totally destroy the sanctimonious murdering bastard. “Leaveherlone,” he growled.

  The phone rang on the other side of the door. Don pushed himself from his leaning position against the bathroom wall, and went in search of the sound. He appeared moments later, with the phone in his hand.

  “Ah, it’s Hannah.”

  The ringing stopped.

  “Ooops. We missed it. Never mind. I’ll send her a message.” He began tapping at the phone. “Kinda tied up right now, sausage. Call you later,” he said. “You do call her sausage, don’t you? How sweet. There you go. Send.” Don wiggled the phone in front of Max showing him the words, MESSAGE SENT, on the screen.

  The phone buzzed.

  Don glanced at it. “She says she’s going to sleep, and she’ll call you in the morning. Ahh, she sent you three kisses. Never mind, Max. I’ll collect those kisses for you later.”

  Finding another surge of energy, Max lifted his one good eye, and fixed it on Don. “I’m bored of this, you sick fuck. Just get it over with, why don’t you?”

  “Bored? Oh, no, that won’t do. Now, what else do I have up my sleeve? Ah, yes.” Don pulled a yellow container from his pocket.

  Max had neither the strength nor the inclination to read the label. He allowed his eyes to close once more. He needed sleep. A strange sensation at his bare pubic area startled him, and a fumy smell he recognised assaulted his nose. Lighter fluid.

  Don laughed hysterically as Max tried to look at him.

  The sight of Don holding a match against the strike area of the matchbox caused tremors to flow through Max. “Don’t,” was all he could manage.

  “Not bored anymore! Are you?” He struck the match, and launched it to Max’s crotch.

  The pain was extraordinary. But, the stench of burning skin and hair caused Max to puke. A steady stream of yellow-tinged bile spewed from his lips, on to his knee, and ran down his leg.

  “If your plan was to put the fire out, your aim was off by a couple of inches.”

  Max passed out.

  ***

  Don had had enough. Max’s pain threshold had been exceeded, and now, his body had gone into shock. He knew Max would feel nothing more tonight. His entertainment was at an end. He fitted the applicator onto the tube of gap filler. Then he prodded Max with the pointy end.

  Max didn’t react at first. He’d been unconscious for several minutes. Thick blood was oozing from his head, and his legs were dotted with cuts and lumps of glass. Yet it was the little blackened cock that thrilled Don the most.

  With a shove in the shoulder, Max finally opened one eye.

  “Open wide, Maxwell. Say, ahhhhh.”

  Max just groaned.

  Don shoved the point of the tube in between Max’s lips and pushed. The plastic felt resistance from the teeth, but with a further shove, it entered his mouth.

  “Shame you’re not more compos mentis, Maxie-boy. I’d have loved to watch you struggle w
ith this.” He pressed the clip of the applicator. The hissing sound reminded Don of squirty cream. He knew the foam started out liquid, and would only thicken and expand as it came into contact with air. Each attempted breath would assist the gap filler to live up to its name.

  Apart from a few body tremors, Max didn’t move, or make another sound.

  Once his mouth and throat were filled to capacity, the foam began to exit from his nostrils.

  Maxwell-fucking-Myers was dead.

  Chapter 47

  Wasting no time, Don wiped all his fingerprints down. He had a bruise on his cheek, where Max had punched him earlier, which might cause a problem later on.

  He headed for the stairs. On the tenth floor, he took the lift down to the ground floor.

  After ducking into the bathroom to double-check his appearance, he approached Ken on the desk.

  Ken jumped to his feet. “Oh, there you are, boss. I was just about to make a coffee. Can I get you one?”

  Don shook his head. “Had another call from Mr Myers.”

  “Yeah? I thought he was coming in for the bag?”

  “Seems he got held up, but it’s important the bag is dropped off at Ms McLaughlin’s flat tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yeah—fucking pain in the arse. Anyway, he asked if you’d do it for him. He told me where to find the key. He said you can go home after, and he’ll pay you for the full shift.”

  “Really?” The stupid man’s eyes lit up.

  “Yeah. So, go and get out of your uniform, and I’ll find the key and the address for you.”

  “You don’t mind? This would mean you being here the rest of the night alone.”

  “Doesn’t take two of us, really, does it? What’s the likelihood of something happening? I’ve been here years, and the only thing that’s happened was when Steve fell down the lift shaft. And we weren’t even aware of that.”

  “Okay, then. If you’re sure. Thanks, boss. I’ll get changed now.”

  Don pulled Simon’s key off his key ring, and wrote the address down on a scrap of paper. He gave them to Ken when he reappeared a few minutes later, dressed in jeans and an old Status Quo T-shirt.

  “So, Max said let yourself in, and wait for him, if he’s not already there.”

  “Are you sure? This seems odd to me, Don.”

  “So… what? You think I’m making all this up?”

  “No, but…”

  Don pulled his phone from his pocket, and dialled Max’s number. He turned the phone to Ken, as it began ringing. “Ask him yourself, if you like.” The voicemail kicked in.

  “Leave him a message, Ken. Tell him what you just told me.”

  Ken shoved the phone away. “No. Turn it off.”

  Don ended the call.

  “Alright, I believe you. So, tell me again—what does he want me to do?”

  “Let yourself in. If he’s not there, wait a few minutes. Then, you can get yourself off home.”

  Ken nodded. “Okay.”

  Don escorted him to his car, and, once out of sight, he raced up to the staff lockers, opened Ken’s with his lock pick tool, and swapped uniforms and torches. Although there was nothing on Don’s uniform which could be detected with the naked eye, he had no doubt it would be covered in fibres placing him at the murder scene.

  Then, he left the building. He knew he was taking a chance, but he had no choice.

  He parked on the deserted road, and spotted Ken’s dilapidated white Ford parked opposite. He took a length of rope from the car-boot, and stealthily headed up the stairs. Outside Simon’s front door, Don arranged the rope. He knocked.

  Ken opened the door seconds later, the broad grin on his face was replaced with confusion. “Boss?”

  Don stepped forwards pushing Ken inside and up the hallway. “Been a change of plan, apparently, mate.”

  Ken had his back to Don, as he entered the kitchen. He didn’t see the sucker punch coming. With a groan, Ken dropped to the floor.

  “Lights out,” Don said. He knew dealing with Ken would be easy, but not that easy.

  Putting the makeshift noose over Ken’s head, he dragged him by the arm to the balcony, where he tied the other end of the rope to the railing.

  Ken was heavier than Don expected. Getting him up and over the railing proved difficult. But, not impossible. When he let go, Ken dropped rapidly. Once the rope reached its limit, the sickening crack of Ken’s neck bones could be heard from where Don stood looking down.

  Almost done.

  He swept through the flat, wiping and clearing anything he may have touched or could be traced back to him. Then, he switched on Simon’s computer, opening the live feeds from Hannah’s flat and Max’s lake house, and left them running for someone to find.

  He raced back to AdCor.

  When he arrived, he was relieved nothing seemed untoward. He headed for the hub, where he rewound the camera footage for the entire building back to the exact point Ken turned off the fifteenth floor.

  Then, Don called Max. It went straight to voicemail.

  “Sorry to call so late, Mr Myers. It’s Don Henry here. I tried to call earlier, too, but there was no answer. I’ve had no choice but to make a decision alone. Earlier this evening, we had the same problem as last night on the fifteenth floor. Ken closed off the alarms up there, but in the process, he somehow managed to shut off all surveillance cameras in the entire building. When I confronted him, he was standoffish, and actually punched me in the face. I had no option but to stand him down. I’ll write it in the day book, and fill out an incident report. If you need me to do anything else, please give me a call back. Goodnight, sir.”

  Don hung up, and grinned. Then, heading down to the front desk, he sat, put his feet up, and waited for his shift to end.

  Chapter 48

  Hannah was thrilled to wake up, and find her mother’s eyes open.

  She gently hugged her. “Oh, Mammy, you don’t know how happy I am you’re alright.”

  “Come on, let go of her now, sweetheart,” her father said.

  Hannah glanced at him, relieved he, too, seemed to be back to his usual self.

  Her mother couldn’t remember much of what happened. She said she woke to someone holding a cushion over her face, and then blackness. But, that was enough of a description to confirm to the police what Hannah already knew—it was no accident.

  Her mother couldn’t talk properly. Her throat was sore and scratchy, and although she’d done nothing but sleep for days, she was still exhausted. But, the specialists were confident she’d make a full recovery, in time.

  Hannah tried Max’s phone, but there was still no answer. She thought it strange he hadn’t called her back this morning after his message last night.

  She called Detective Owens, and left a message to say her mother had woken, and confirmed somebody had put a cushion over her face.

  Hannah was fidgety. Now her mother was awake, she wanted to scream it from the rooftops. Or, at the very least, let Max know.

  “I might go home for a shower, Daddy. Do you want to come?” she said.

  “No, I’m fine. I had a stand-up wash at the sink earlier. I’ll be okay. You go, though.”

  “Okay, can I get you anything?”

  Her mother lifted her fingers, and Hannah took her hand.

  “What can I get you, Mammy?”

  “Polo mints,” her mother whispered.

  Her mother always had a packet of mints on the go, either in her purse or her pocket.

  “Of course. Anything else?”

  The minimal effort of shaking her head seemed to take it out of her.

  “You rest now, Mammy. I’ll be back soon.” Hannah kissed her mother’s cool cheek, and hugged her father before leaving.

  As she got into her car, she realised she wasn’t permitted to go back to the flat, until she got the all clear from the detective. She tried his number again, but there was no answer. After leaving a message, she headed to AdCor. At least there she’
d be able to kill two birds with one stone—take a shower, and catch up with Max.

  When she arrived, emergency vehicles surrounded the front and side of the building.

  Hannah entered via the car park entrance. It was just as chaotic inside. A police cordon was in effect, and nobody was permitted to enter the building.

  “What’s happened?” she said to a woman she recognised from her floor.

  “Apparently, they’ve found a body.”

  “What? Another one?”

  The woman’s eyebrows raised in confirmation.

  “Who is it this time? Do you know?”

  “Not really. I’ve heard a few whispers, but nothing has been confirmed.”

  Hannah called Max again. When there was still no answer, she left a voicemail message. “Max, I’m downstairs. What the hell’s happened? Call me.”

  Her phone rang, and Max’s name flashed on the screen.

  “Max! Thank God. I’m downstairs. Nobody’s allowed in. What’s happened?”

  “Who am I speaking to, please?” a woman said. Hannah’s heartbeat thudded in her ears. “Hannah-Hannah McLaughlin. Who are you? Where’s Max?”

  “Hannah, are you a relation of Mr Myers?”

  “I’m his girlfriend. Why? Would you please tell me what’s going on?”

  “Where are you? I’ll send an officer down to escort you inside.”

  Not five minutes later, the geeky detective she’d met at the hospital appeared at her side. “Can you come with me, miss?”

  On the ground floor, dozens of detectives, uniformed cops, and scene of crime officers were milling about. The young detective led her to a staff room off the main area.

  “Take a seat. Someone will be with you shortly.”

  A woman with shaggy dark hair and kind eyes appeared, wearing tight black trousers and a fitted blue shirt. “Ms. McLaughlin, I’m Lucy Ward. Take a seat, please.”

  Hannah did as she was asked. “Where’s Max?”

  “You’re his girlfriend? Right?”

  Hannah nodded.