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

by K. A. Richardson

  It didn’t take her long to empty the bag. For once, everything would be up to date. She turned in her chair, intending to stand, just as Ali walked in.

  ‘Hey, Ben, just the person I wanted to see. You remember the assault at Retox the other week? Have you done your statement? I’m trying to put the file together and I don’t seem to have it?’

  Frowning, she replied, ‘I sent it over to CPS last week. Need me to do you another copy?’

  As he nodded, she continued, ‘How’s Cass and Alex? I’ve been a bit manic, haven’t rang her.’

  ‘Yeah she’s fine. I think they’re both pulling their hair out a little, to be honest. Cass’s mum is still staying in the Hilton so is over every day, then our mum is down as well and staying in a bed and breakfast not far away. Guess it must feel a little like they’re being pulled from one way to the other. I’d hate it.’

  ‘Aw, bless them. I’ll drop Cass a text later. Maybe we can meet for a coffee or something, get her away from it all.’

  ‘I think she’d appreciate that. I can understand the mums though, Isobel is an absolute charmer. She smiled at me the other day, nearly knocked my socks off. I’ve got a photo on here somewhere,’ he said pulling out his phone.

  Frowning in consternation, he muttered, ‘If I can find the stupid folder where the photos are kept. I hate technology. Here, you have a look.’

  Ben took the phone with a grin, hit menu and brought up his images folder. Scrolling through the small number of photos, she smiled as she found the one he meant. Isobel was in his arms, the photo obviously taken by someone else, and her face was curved in innocent contentment. Ben didn’t have the heart to tell him it was likely wind. Pressing a few buttons, she set the image as his wallpaper and screen saver.

  Handing it back, she said, ‘Press the button in the middle.’

  Ali looked a little confused until Isobel’s face shone at him. ‘How’d you do that? Thanks, Ben.’

  ‘For future reference, to access your pictures you just press the menu button, and go to the file named images. If you’re ever stuck on how to do something just give me a shout.’

  Nodding, Ali raised his behind off the desk he was resting on, and turned to leave the office. Glancing back, he thanked her again, and paused, wanting to say something but not quite knowing how.

  ‘Tough day?’ asked Ben quietly, taking in his body language, five o’clock shadow and crinkled clothing. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. She could see he felt guilty. The talk of the suicide in the cells had spread around the nick like wildfire. It meant a major investigation, and staff were already preparing for interrogations and finger pointing.

  ‘The toughest. Never lost one in the cells before.’

  ‘You know it’s not your fault right? PACE says custody don’t have to search if they deem there is no risk of harm right? Did he present as suicidal?

  ‘No he didn’t and I’m not sure they would have found the rope had they searched him to be honest. It was one of those really thin nylon ropes. But still, he killed himself in custody. It’s opened a shit can full of worms. You know what this stuff is like when it hits the media. The police are accused of everything and sundry. The headlines will probably say he had the shit kicked out of him on arrest and was mistreated throughout.’

  ‘As long as the custody officer did their job correctly, and it’s all documented, I don’t see what professional standards can do. They’ll investigate `cos they have to, but try not to worry, Ali. There wasn’t anything you could have done. If he wanted to kill himself he would have found a way. They always do if the intent is serious.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks, Ben.’

  Ali turned and left the office, his heavy footsteps fading as he made his way down the corridor. Ben sighed, sometimes bad days were bad days, and there was nothing you could do about it.

  In what seemed like a few minutes, Ben had the rest of the property booked out for disposal. She was just about to pick it up and take it down when her radio burst to life.

  ‘7916 Cassidy, come in, over.’

  ‘Go ahead, LV.’

  ‘Ben, if you’re not busy, can you head down to the car park of the Sutton Arms in the town centre. There’s been a few attempt break-ins to some vehicles down there. It’s log 1215. Think most of the IPs are on scene.’

  ‘Yea sure, LV. ETA around fifteen minutes.’

  She listened as the radio dispatcher informed whichever cop was on scene that she was on route, grabbed the van keys off the hook by the door, locked up and left.

  So much for a quiet night.

  15th June, 2220 hours - CSI Department, Sunderland City Centre Depot

  The job at the pub ended up being a complete waste of time. By the time she got there it was raining, and not just any rain, but that fine summer spray that drenches everything whilst barely even touching it. She had made quick work of the six cars that had been damaged, taking glass samples from the window frames and writing her notes in the van as thunder started to grumble in the distance. The cop had an arrest so the glass samples could be instrumental in linking the offender’s clothing to the cars. She’d already told him to seize the kids clothing for forensic analysis. The rest would be up to him, and the CPS.

  It had taken her all of half an hour to put the jobs through Socard and she stood to make herself a cuppa, almost tripping over the bag of property she’d done earlier. She moved it to one side, knowing she’d remember to take it to the bin when she left for home. Deciding to take her samples straight to the front office, she picked them up and wandered down the corridor.

  The station was silent: few staff were working at that time of night, and most of them the 24/7 officers who worked on the next floor up. The front office clerks had packed up for the day hours before, and had she not worked out of the very same front office herself, she would have found the silence a little creepy. She pulled the key off the wall and opened the locked door to the transit store. As she placed the bags inside, something caught her eye. Turning the lock again, she walked over to the CCTV camera screens.

  The CCTV had been installed in the station for years, but had been updated after Cass’s kidnapping to cover all the rear yard and front entrance more fully, and with better night vision. Concentrating, she stared at the four screens, curious as to what it was that had grabbed her attention. She finally focussed on a darkly clothed figure, sidling up to the staff entrance door beside the front office. Her senses went into overdrive as he suddenly vanished from view and she heard the door slam in the corridor right outside the office.

  Thinking on her feet, she grabbed the radio from the charger beside the screens and pressed the emergency button just as the male came into the office, furtively looking around. As his gaze focussed on her, his eyes narrowed and he took a step forward menacingly. His pupils had dilated to pin pricks, and the strip of skin she could see above the scarf and below his hat, was pasty, clammy and scattered with bad acne pockmarks.

  ‘There’s no money in here. This is just a front office.’ She kept her tone neutral, holding her hands out in an attempt to placate the intruder.

  ‘A front office with a petty cash box,’ snarled the man, taking two more steps towards her. His hand was also out in front of him and she tried not to stare at the crowbar he held tightly.

  ‘There’s no cash in here. I’m sorry.’

  Suddenly he lost it, shouting ‘Fuck!’ as he swept the metal tool across the table to his left, sending the screens and keyboards flying with a clatter.

  He stopped again, his head cocked to one side, as he focussed his glare back on Ben, as though everything that had gone wrong was entirely her fault.

  A sharp arrow of pure fear shot through her pounding heart. She knew that look. He was going to kill her.

  Taking in a slow breath, she waited, not moving until he was right in front of her. He raised his arm with the intention of swinging the crowbar at her head, and still she waited, looking straight into his
eyes. A guttural sound escaped from his mouth as the metal rod moved towards her, but all she could see was his tiny pupils like small black islands in a sea of pale blue. The bar moved almost as if in slow motion. It was centimetres from her when she finally leapt into action. Turning her body so her shoulder absorbed the blow instead of her head, she elbowed the man to the solar plexus, feeling his breath exit his body with a loud ‘whoomph’. Pulling back, she grabbed the arm holding the crowbar and moved behind him taking the arm with her, her foot already moving to the rear of his knees to knock him from his feet. Using her strength, she pushed him to the floor, his left cheek impacting with the carpet, and his grunt muffled against the rough surface.

  Through his grunt, she heard footsteps running down the corridor towards her, but they sounded as if they were in a tunnel, pounding feet just outside of her consciousness. She was panting, fear and adrenaline giving her the strength she needed to keep the man on the floor. Ali burst into the front office with several detectives at his side. They were expecting a fight, and they all paused in shock as they registered Ben sat on top of the suspect, his arm twisted behind him as he whimpered with pain.

  ‘Ben, you can let go, we got this.’

  Ali’s soft voice penetrated through, but it was his hand on her arm that made her look up. She moved, allowing one of the DCs to take her place, silent as Ali led her from the room and into the small office behind the front desk window.

  ‘Ben, you OK? Did he hurt you?’ he asked softly, his hands on the top of her arms as he looked her up and down, checking her for signs of injury.

  The adrenaline was starting to subside, and Ben felt herself start to shake. She focussed on keeping her breathing steady, staring at the poster on the wall behind Ali’s back, reading the words over and over until she felt herself stop shaking.

  ‘I’m OK,’ she finally replied, ‘He caught my shoulder with the crow bar, but I’m OK.’

  ‘Let me see,’ said Ali, gently trying to manoeuvre her.

  Ben stepped away from him, ‘I’m fine, Ali. Honest. He barely touched me.’

  ‘You should still get it checked out. It might be worse than you think. We’ll need some injury photo’s doing too.’

  ‘I’ll get it sorted tomorrow, Ali. Do you need me to make my statement now?’

  Ali frowned a little. He didn’t quite know what had just happened but it was clear Ben did not want him touching her. Deciding to focus on finding out what had occurred, he put the other stuff to the back of his mind. There would be plenty of time for that later. Maybe Cass would know what’s going on with Ben.

  ‘What happened? How’d he get in?’

  ‘I think he had a key. I was putting some stuff in the transit store and saw something on the CCTV. When I looked closer he was outside, and then the door slammed and he was in here. I think he’s high or something. I told him there was no money in the front office and he just lost it. I had to restrain him, I didn’t have a choice. He had a crowbar. Was going to hit me with it.’

  ‘Hey, nobodies arguing with you, Ben. You did what you had to do, and might I add, you did it better than most cops would have. Where’d you learn those moves?’

  ‘Self-defence training,’ she replied. ‘Not force provided,’ she added as Ali raised his eye brows in question. He knew all too well that the police didn’t provide forensic personnel with self-defence training, and it was something he campaigned for every time it came up in the yearly meetings.

  Ben felt light-headed, her vision was swimming and she could see black spots. But she tried to ignore it, adding, ‘Can I ring Kevin please? You’re going to need a CSI here to take photos and I presume you’ll be wanting me to make a statement. Although I couldn’t do the photos anyway – conflict of interests I sup –’

  She felt her sentence trail off at the end, saw the hoods of her eyes as they rolled back in her head, and thought ‘shit’ as the dizziness caused her to tilt.

  Ben didn’t want to wake up. She could feel someone stroking her cheek, telling her to open her eyes, but she didn’t want to. Slowly she realised that there was something hard under her back, something rough and textured against her cheek, and she just knew she wasn’t at home in bed. Forcing her eyes open, she saw Ali’s concerned grey ones staring back.

  She groaned as she tried to sit. ‘I passed out didn’t I?’

  It was more of a statement than a question, and Ali nodded back.

  ‘I’ve just phoned your aunt, told her I’ll drop you off, or do you need a paramedic? We can take your statement tomorrow.’

  He held his hand out to help her to her feet, and stood close in case she fell again. Ben felt her cheeks change to deep red. She was mortified. She had just passed out at work in front of pretty much the whole of the major incident team. That could only happen to me! I take down a suspect then pass out for the sheer hell of it. What a complete numpty.

  ‘Ali, it’s fine. Let me do my statement whilst it’s all fresh in my mind. I don’t need a medic. I’ll ring Aoife now, and tell her I’ll be back shortly.’

  Standing aside to let her past, Ali followed her through, and tried not to eavesdrop as she made the phone call.

  ‘Aoife it’s me ... No I’m fine ... Aoife ... Aoife, stop OK. I’m going to give my statement then I’ll be home I promise. I’m OK. Loves you.’

  ‘Is your aunt OK? She was pretty upset when I spoke to her a moment ago.’

  ‘She will be, as soon as I get home anyways,’ said Ben, flashing Ali a quick but tight smile. ‘Let’s crack on, alright?’

  15th June, 2315 hours – O’Byrne residence, Sunderland

  Ben was home. Finally.

  Giving the statement felt like it had taken forever, and it had been hard. Writing every last thing down and signing it off. It was almost like she had been transported to the past, though without quite as much of the trauma involved as the last time. It had actually felt good knowing she hadn’t forgotten her training, that all those hours put in on the mat had actually accomplished something.

  Reassuring Kevin that she was still fine to work her on-call that night was even harder, but she truly felt like she was fine. It hadn’t been nice, thinking that some random stranger was going to attack her with a crowbar, that an offender had invaded the sanctity of the police station. But Ben was trying to look past all that. He had entered the station illegally, using keys someone had dropped outside. Whichever cop that was would be getting a rollocking, no doubt about that. She had just happened to be there.

  She paused at the front door, her hand on the frame for a second as she laid her head on top. She suddenly felt so tired. She remembered feeling that way all those years ago, when the initial trauma and shock had worn off and she had been left on her own for the first time. She recalled feeling so utterly lonely, so desperately alone, despite Aoife being only rooms away. There were often still times when she closed her eyes, and all she could see was him. Standing over her, telling her he was watching. It had taken her so long to get to where she was now. It had been years of looking over her shoulder and struggling with paranoia and panic attacks. But she’d made it this far.

  A scuffle with an offender was nothing compared to all that. Taking a deep breath, she pulled open the door, already knowing Aoife would be climbing the walls with worry.

  ‘Hey, Aoife, I’m home,’ she said, opening the door to the living room. Aoife wasn’t in there, so Ben wandered through to the kitchen, again finding it empty.

  Her heart swelled as she figured her aunt was upstairs with Grace. She was so grateful her aunt was there. If something had gone wrong today, Grace would have been looked after, she knew that. A lump grew in her throat and she forced it back down as she quietly opened Graces bedroom door. Grace was fast asleep, her dark curls spread over the pillow giving her an angelic appearance, and Aoife was sitting in the rocking chair holding a cuddly bunny. Her cheeks resembled a map, with rivers of tears running down to her chin, and she looked utterly devastated.

  Ben
knelt in front of her aunt, and pulled her close as Aoife started to sob.

  ‘I don’t ... know ... what I’d do.’ Aoife stopped trying to speak, wrapped her good arm round Ben and held her so tight that for a moment she thought her ribs would break.

  ‘I’m OK,’ whispered Ben into her aunt’s hair, inhaling the scent of lavender. ‘Shh, I’m alright. Everything’s OK.’

  After a few minutes, an embarrassed Aoife pulled back.

  ‘Sorry,’ she whispered, ‘It’s just ...’

  ‘Aoife, it’s OK. I get it. But I’m alright, I promise. He didn’t hurt me.’

  Ben watched as she gave herself a shake, took Ben’s hand to steady herself and pulled herself to her feet.

  ‘We deserve a glass of wine. Come on, downstairs.’

  ‘I’ll have tea, Aoife, I’m on call tonight.’

  ‘On call? They didn’t even give you the night off?’ Aoife’s horror was written all over her face.

  ‘They offered. I refused. I’m fine. It was a bit scary, but I’m fine.’

  ‘Ali told me you kicked the intruder’s arse?’ Finally, a familiar twinkle appeared in her aunt’s eye and Ben knew her aunt would be OK. Shock was a funny thing. She could only imagine how it must have felt having Ali call and explain what had happened. It wouldn’t be natural to expect anything but the worst.

  And she really was fine. Even if my shoulder does hurt like a bitch. She smiled to herself as she figured that if her shoulder hurt, then his stomach and shoulder would be hurting a lot more. I must ring Davey and thank him again. If it wasn’t for him persevering with me I’d never have been able to take that guy down. Her martial arts instructor, David Cunningham, was one of the best in the business. He worked tournaments all over the world, and specialised in teaching women to handle themselves.