I've Been Watching You: a stunning crime thriller from The North East Police Series

by K. A. Richardson

  It was a long speech, but Ben was grinning widely. Aware of Grace staring up at her, she said, ‘What do you think, Grace? Would you like to move into a new class after the summer holidays so you can learn more things?’

  Grace nodded, looking thoughtful. ‘I wouldn’t see my friends in class any more would I? I would have to make new friends?’

  ‘You would still see them in your other lessons, sweetheart, but you’ll make new friends too. You could still play together at break-times and lunchtime though, and you can still ask Alice over to play like you do now. If you want to think about it and talk to me at home though, I’m sure Mrs Muztachs will give us a few days to think it over?’

  ‘Of course. You two can take as long as you need to make your minds up. If you decide you want to stay where you are, Grace, and your mum agrees, then that’s absolutely fine too.’

  Grace frowned, something she did often when she was processing her thoughts. She was very grown up for a four-year-old, weighing things up rather than just rushing in and doing them like most children. Her brown eyes, with their long, dark lashes, blinked slowly, and eventually her mouth widened into a smile.

  ‘Can we ask Aunty Aoife when we get home, please, Mummy? We could sit at the table and have some ice-cream. Strawberry is my favourite.’

  ‘Well, I can’t see why we shouldn’t have some ice-cream when Aunty Aoife gets home. This is a very big decision, and I’m sure the ice-cream will help us all decide what to do.’ Ben winked at Grace with a grin. Grace could take or leave sweets and crisps, much preferring an apple or a Satsuma; but when it came to strawberry ice-cream she was lost.

  ‘Perfect,’ said Mrs Muztachs. ‘Here are the preliminary school reports. You’ll notice Grace is marked as good in every subject except PE. This isn’t because she is bad at PE; she’s on a par with other children her age. PE doesn’t really have an exceptional category until the children get older and choose to excel in one sport or another. If you decide to move her up next year, she will move on the first day of the new term. I’m actually head of year two next year so Grace would still be learning with me if she moves.’

  ‘That’s brill; thank you so much, Mrs Muztachs. I’ll take the reports home, and I presume if I have any questions it’s alright for me to email or ring you?’

  ‘Of course. It’s been a pleasure meeting with you again. Grace, you enjoy your ice-cream, OK?’

  Grace nodded as she clambered down from her chair.

  Ben took hold of her daughter’s hand and ignored the shudder that passed down her spine as she turned and saw the door to the gym next door. The blood really had got everywhere in the room, she didn’t even have to close her eyes to remember it. It had looked like some kind of horrific murder had taken place. She’d never look at the gym in the same way again. The poor kids that had found the body had ended up needing counselling.

  Her train of thought was interrupted by Grace saying ‘Mummy, do I have to go back to class now or is it home time?’

  ‘No, you don’t have to go to class. The teachers have a training afternoon. We’ll have to pop to Asda on our way home though; I think you ate all of the ice-cream last week when Alice came over. Which one should we buy?’

  Grace cocked her head to one side again. ‘Well, you like vanilla, and Aunty Aoife likes chocolate so could we get one of the ’poltan ones, please?’

  ‘You mean Neapolitan? The one with the three colours inside?’

  ‘Yes please, Mummy, the ’napoltan one will be perfect. Am I allowed a teddy wafer too? And strawberry sauce? And sprinkles?’

  ‘We’ll see how many pennies I have when we get there, OK? If I have enough pennies then yes; if not we’ll have to have the toffee sauce we already have at home.’

  Grace started skipping as they walked out of the school gates. One bonus in choosing to live close to the school was that you didn’t have far to go to get home. Ben and Aoife lived in the same house, had done since Ben had moved back in after telling her aunt she was pregnant.

  Accepting without question, Aoife had decorated Ben’s room and prepped what became the nursery, and eventually decorated it with the pink fairy design Grace had begged for on her last birthday.

  It made Ben happy being back with her Aunt, she liked the company. And it suited Aoife too: she had been considering selling before Ben had moved back. The house was too big for one person to clatter about in.

  Ben was glad to have the afternoon off. With the way the CSI shifts worked she sometimes felt like she hardly saw Grace or Aoife. But she was back at work tomorrow, and if today’s number of jobs had been anything to go by, it would prove to be a busy one.

  Chapter Two

  28th May, 1320 hours – Sunderland Royal Hospital

  Aoife O’Byrne sat in the car, her face ashen. Her brown eyes were troubled, almost on the verge of dropping the tears she knew were hiding there but weren’t quite ready to show, and her curly grey hair was turning frizzy with the dampness in the air.

  How the hell am I supposed to deal with this?

  She had Ben and Grace to think about. She didn’t have time to be ill, especially with something like this. Did this even qualify as ill? She actually felt fine.

  Maybe it’s a mistake. Doctors get things wrong all the time, if the news is anything to believe. Maybe they’re wrong this time too.

  But she knew in her heart they weren’t wrong. A single tear spilled over and trickled down her cheek. Not one for crying, she immediately felt embarrassed and swiped at it with the back of her hand.

  This just wasn’t fair.

  It’s not supposed to be like this.

  She’d gone for the tests without telling anyone, firmly believing the lump in her breast was just a fatty deposit. She’d winced as they had clamped her breast between two metal plates and taken the mammogram. She had still believed it would be nothing. And last week she‘d attended for the biopsy, which, until twenty minutes previously, she had also thought would be nothing.

  In the space of twenty minutes the oncologist had put this belief to rest and shattered her whole world with a single word.

  Cancer.

  Her eyes filled again, and for a moment she didn’t care anymore, couldn’t fight the waves of emotion. She sat in the driver’s seat, held her head in her hands and sobbed, her body heaving and her eyes finally opening the gates to the flood of tears.

  This sucks. What the hell am I going to do?

  28th May, 1410 hours – Tunstall, Sunderland City Centre

  He adjusted the screen, staring at it, willing her to turn around. And turn she did. He felt himself harden as she stood before him, all dressed up in lace lingerie. She had no idea he was watching, of course; that was the joy of the hidden digital camera seamlessly sending the footage straight to his computer. It would never be found, never had been before.

  He wondered who she was dressing up for this time. Whether they would be meeting elsewhere or whether she would bring him to her bedroom and whore herself out, like the last time. He had been watching her for only a few days but she had already had several men back to the room.

  Maybe she’s a hooker?

  There was much more to do before he could implement his plan. At this early stage there was no guarantee it would even be her. Pressing and holding the Alt key on his keyboard, he hit the tab key, the screen instantly jumping to the next image. This room was younger-looking, less sophisticated. She had been an easy mark. Sweet, innocent, a student just looking for new friends. Sighing, he realised she wasn’t there.

  He tabbed again. The screen turned darker. The curtains in the room were drawn and a form was wrapped up tightly in the duvet. He watched for a moment, imagined how easy it would be to sneak in and use the bed to his full advantage. It was one of the older-style metal frames, with spindles for a headboard and bed knobs at each side. Perfect for securing a person’s hands to. He could almost feel the plastic cable ties beneath his fingers. Breathing slowly, he calmed his thoughts.

&nb
sp; It’s not the right time.

  Not yet.

  He flicked to the final screen and his eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing in concentration as he leaned in towards the screen. There was someone there. But it wasn’t her. The man was dressed in black, a scarf covering his features. Instinctively he froze as the man’s eyes stared straight into the camera lens, and for a moment he thought it had been found. His breath escaped in a small whoosh as the figure turned and began tipping out drawers onto the bed, selecting small items of jewellery and filling his pockets. Within minutes the figure had gone, the room now completely upturned.

  He smiled to himself. He would get to see her reaction when she walked into that room, saw all her precious things had been taken. The timing couldn’t have been better. This would quite likely help him decide who he would have. He checked the clock in the corner of the screen; it was time to make nice and head to his day job. Routine itself was as important as changing it.

  As he jumped on the metro a few minutes later, he acknowledged that he liked the city. Cities normally held appeal for the obvious reason – lots of choice, anonymity. But this city was different from the others he’d been to. The last North East one he’d stayed in had been Durham, and that had been years before. It had been nice enough, but a little too small for his liking. A person could get lost in Sunderland if they felt the need, and it was easy to make contacts; hell, he even liked the football team.

  He glanced around the carriage. Not one person made eye contact. He could make them all witnesses to something terrible and none of them would even remember his face.

  Not today though. Today was about remaining invisible. He lowered his eyes back down to the Echo he had in his hand, taking in the headlines.

  A soft smile spread across his lips. No one ever knew who he was.

  Not really.

  Half the time even he didn’t know.

  And that was just how he liked it.

  28th May, 1810 hours – Sunderland University Campus

  Jacob Tulley stood at the podium in the empty lecture hall and sighed. Where the hell were the students? He’d had pretty much full capacity of applicants, the date had been arranged and the lecture hall booked for the summer ahead. He had spent hours prepping his lecture material. Today was intended to be mainly ice-breaking and running over the various aspects of the Introduction to Digital Forensics course.

  But nobody was here.

  Muttering under his breath, he logged out of the computer, grabbed his walking cane and made his way up the steps to the door. Just as he reached for the handle the door flew open towards him. Losing his balance from the impact, he felt his leg give and he sank to his knee, bracing himself with his right arm. His leg burned and for a moment he was transported back in time.

  The sandstorm was raging around him, the sharp granules hitting his skin like needles pricking. He couldn't hear a thing for the howling of the wind. As the storm suddenly stopped as fast as it had begun, he paused, surprised by the silence. He flung his hand upright with the fist clenched. A simple command for his team: Stop!

  He didn't know quite what he had seen, or even sensed, but something had caused his hairs to stand to attention. The air stilled around them. Even before anything happened he found himself yelling ‘Get down!’ The air around them exploded and he felt something hit his leg and lower back, but he was focussed on his men and barely even noticed.

  He saw a set of vacant eyes staring out from what used to be his friend’s face on the ground in front of him. He remembered someone grabbing the scruff of his jacket, pulling him backwards.

  And then, nothing but darkness.

  Grimacing, he pulled himself back to the present and purposely slowed his breathing. The flashbacks didn't happen often any more. The cognitive behavioural therapy he’d gone through after his treatment kept them at bay. But when they did happen, they knocked him for six. Conscious of the fact he was on the floor and grinding his teeth, he looked up to see the shocked face of the cleaner, her ID badge stark against her tunic, showing the name Clarice.

  ‘Oh my God. I’m so sorry. Sir, are you OK? Let me help you up.’

  He swiped her hand away. ‘I can manage.’

  Adjusting his weight, he pulled himself to his feet, leaning heavily on his stick as he stood straight. His leg was already aching like a bitch. Later it would stiffen and he would have to work to get it looser again. Any slight slip caused him to go backwards in his recovery. He would have to phone his physiotherapist and get booked in for a couple of sessions. It was always the same.

  Groaning inwardly, he focused on being in the here and now, and not the there and then. Glancing at Clarice again, he noticed the sorrow on her face. Her brown eyes shone brightly, standing out from her dark skin and styled black hair. He pegged her as about twenty years old, but wasn’t quite sure. For a moment, he actually thought she might cry. To her mind she had just knocked over a disabled man who had then snapped at her. Feeling like a complete heel, he knew he had to say something.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. As you can see, I’m fine.’

  She nodded. ‘I’m sorry for knocking you over. I thought the hall was empty and ready to be cleaned. I shouldn’t have barrelled through like that.’

  ‘Empty? It’s the 29th, isn’t it? I have the hall booked for my lectures until the summer break. Though as you can see, nobody has turned up.’

  ‘It’s the 28th,’ she said quietly.

  She looks like she thinks I’m going to phase out again.

  Jacob tried to reassure her that he wouldn’t. ‘The 28th? I got my days wrong then.’ He made his way through the open door, then glanced back with a wide smile, ‘Thanks, Clarice. Sorry again for the bad reaction. Don’t work too hard.’

  Clarice felt her face grow warm as she took in the transformation. When he was on the floor, his face had contorted, looking stern and clouded with the storm battling inside his mind. But when he smiled - wow. She almost felt the need to put her hand to her throat to still the pounding in her heart. Wait until she told Gill about this guy – it would be worth signing up to his classes just to ogle him every week.

  As the door closed behind him, Clarice smiled back. Maybe this cleaning job wouldn’t be too bad after all. She made her way down to the podium with her vacuum cleaner and plugged it in. She was about to switch it on when she noticed the pile of paperwork on the desk.

  ‘Digital forensics? He teaches digital forensics. I should’ve known – he looked like an IT geek,’ she muttered to herself. Normally the cleaners were told not to move papers left behind in the lecture halls, but she knew there were classes in there tomorrow morning: she was one of the students on the Business Development course starting at 9 a.m. Her tutor was a stalwart, old-school lecturer who had a habit of dumping anything left behind by other people into the bin so that it wasn’t in his way. Deciding it would be a help not a hindrance on this occasion, she gathered up the papers and placed them neatly inside the small cupboard at the base of the podium. I’ll just pop in tomorrow when my five o’clock lecture finishes.

  Jacob had made his way out to his car, and once inside he sat for a moment, his head resting on the steering wheel. It had been months since his last flashback. He had thought he might finally be getting past it all, hoped he would one day be back to normal.

  His leg would never heal properly, the shrapnel from the blast had caused so much damage that he’d needed several bouts of surgery, extensive physiotherapy, and the threat of life in a wheelchair to push him to the point he was at now.

  There was a time the doctors had told him he would never walk again. But he had refused to give up, and his sister, TJ, had supported him. He smiled as he thought about her. She'd been devastated when he came home from the hospital, and he had become her personal mission. She hadn't left him alone for more than a day, pushing him constantly, reiterating that his life wasn't over even when the military had discharged him. When he had started the CBT, she had
rapidly become one of his tools for dealing with the flashbacks.

  Feeling a sudden need to hear her voice, he pulled his mobile from his pocket and hit speed dial number one. Her voice filled his head as the call diverted to voicemail and waiting for the beep, he left his message. ‘Sis, it's me. Hit me back when you get a sec.’

  His blood pressure now returning to manageable levels, he started the car and headed for home.

  28th May, 2310 hours – Tunstall, Sunderland City Centre

  Rewinding, he zoomed in on the screen. She was undressing, readying herself for bed. Her plain white underwear was stark against her contrasting skin. Almost as if she knew he was watching, she slowly undid her bra. He grew hard, using his hand to adjust himself. She was teasing him; it couldn't be anything else.

  As she bent to remove her pants, he pulled himself free of the constraints of his clothing.

  His hand working hard, he suddenly realised with the utmost clarity that she was the one. She had been put there in that room just for him. He would start making plans to have her. It was easier now than it had been when he first started, all those years ago. Technology made selection so much faster.

  A frown marred his face momentarily: it used to be that there was a reason for choosing; now it seemed that the more time passed, the more he would settle for any small sign. Like her teasing him.

  Clearing his mind, he focused on her image and continued. When the orgasm came it wasn't as powerful as he wanted it to be.

  But it would be. When he had her it would finally be like the first time all over again.

  He tucked himself back away, and checked his watch.

  It was time to do some reconnaissance.

  Chapter Three

  29th May, 1730 hours - Sunderland University Campus