Ben had barely lost consciousness and could hear Grace telling her to wake up, and slowly she fluttered her eyes open. She saw the sky above and realised she was outside. Her senses went into overdrive and she realised Jacob was caught beneath her. Realising she had passed out again, she groaned and swore at herself softly.
'Mammy, that's a naughty word. Jacob said you fell asleep on him. Are you awake now?'
'Yes, pumpkin, I'm awake.' Embarrassed, she pulled herself to her feet and stretched a hand out to help Jacob to his feet. His face was twisted in a grimace and he tried to hide the pain that was shooting through his leg, but failed. Accepting her hand, he was surprised at the strength with which she tugged him to his feet. He leaned into her shoulder as Grace handed him his stick.
'Sorry,' whispered Ben into his ear, fear causing her voice to shake. 'It's him. He was here. I need to get Aoife and Grace away from here. I can’t let them be here when he’s out there and knows where I live. Will you help me?'
Jacob nodded, 'I know just the place. Leave it to me. You phone the police.'
18th June, 0810 hours – O’Byrne residence, Sunderland
Ali pulled on to the driveway of Ben’s house. He’d literally walked into the office when comms had told him about the damage to Ben’s car. He needed to see about getting her away from the house, putting her somewhere safe, but first he had to speak to her. How the hell had this guy known where to find her?
‘Ben, Jacob,’ he acknowledged as he strode into the living room. He’d glanced at the cars on the way past. This was getting personal. This guy knew where she lived, and had no qualms about letting her know he had visited. What’s so different about Ben though? Why is he focussing on her now, after all this time? The question kept popping into his head, had been since he’d set off from the nick. Ali knew the answer was in there somewhere, and pushed it to the back of his mind as he sat down.
Ben and Jacob were sat next to each other on the couch, Jacob’s hand resting softly on Ben’s knee. She was leaning into him, their body language practically screaming there was something between them. Ali wasn’t surprised; he thought Ben was enigmatic and appealing, had done since he’d first time he’d seen her. She was strong, but today her vulnerability was showing through, slight cracks appearing in her strong façade. She was tapping her foot softly against the carpet, nibbling at the inside of her bottom lip, and her eyes were haunted.
‘I’ve read the report you gave to Charlie, Ben. You said he whispered those words to you during the attack. Is it possible that that sentence could have been found out somehow, either through the news or you telling someone, and this could just be someone playing silly beggars?’
Ben pondered his question. ‘No. The police didn’t release any of the identifiable facts about the rape. They didn’t mention the words he said, and they didn’t mention my … scars. The news was generic. And until now I’ve never told anyone else except my aunt, about what happened. This is him, Ali. I’m sure of it. I don’t know why he’s come back, but he has.’
Ali nodded. He already knew that, but he needed to hear that she hadn’t told anyone. His gut already told him she hadn’t and that this was indeed the same guy, but the confirmation proved it. He felt a lead weight in his stomach. Damn, I need some antacid. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.
‘I need to put you and your family somewhere safe. He knows where you live. We have a safe house we’d like to use outside of the city centre. I’ll assign two cops to be with you at all times. It’ll mean taking your daughter out of school for a little while.’
‘They’re safe, Ali. I’ve already sent them somewhere that nobody would look for them. Jacob knew a place.’
‘Will you tell me where? I’d like to assign officers to them.’
‘It’s OK,’ said Jacob quietly, ‘They’re staying with a friend of mine from my time in the service. No-one will get near them.’
Ali nodded silently. It hadn’t escaped him that Ben and Jacob were keeping schtum on purpose. Understandable, he supposed. He couldn’t say he wouldn’t do the same in their situation.
‘So just you and Jacob then.’ He paused gauging Ben’s reaction. Before she even spoke, he knew she wasn’t going to let him put her in the safe house.
‘If he thinks he can run me out of my home, and make me hide away like the scared girl I was after he attacked me, then he’s dead wrong. I refuse to be driven out. When I moved back in with Aoife, we had state-of-the-art alarm systems installed. We’ve not really used them the last couple of years, but they will keep him out. I’m not going to the safe house. Feel free to assign cops outside, but I will not let this monster ruin my life again.’
‘I’ll be staying with her too. My boss has already given me permission to work from home for a while. I need to pick my kit up but otherwise I’ll be here.’ Jacob’s voice was calm.
‘OK. I’m going to have one of the PCSOs come and install a Tunstall alarm in the premises. You know how they work, right? Anything happens, and I mean anything, you press the button and it connects to the control room and results in an immediate response. I’ve got Kevin coming down here to examine the vehicles, see if the offender left anything behind that we could use. There’ll be two officers outside the address in an unmarked pool car 24/7 until this guy is caught. We won’t let him near you, Ben.’
‘I know, thanks, Ali. Have you mentioned anything to Cass? I wouldn’t want her to worry.’
‘Yeah, I’ve told her. Only because I was discussing it with Alex, though. She said to tell you she’s there if you need her.’
‘I’ll give her a ring tonight and put her mind at ease. She has enough on her plate right now.’
‘Yeah, you’re not wrong. OK, Ben. I’m going to head back to the office, see if we can’t make some headway on who the hell this guy is. You’ve got my number. You need anything, day or night, you call me.’
Ali stood and left the living room. Pausing at the front door, he rested his head on the frame, just for a second. He felt a little sick, bile sitting in his oesophagus as he considered all the things that could potentially happen. Whitworth’s wife had known she married a monster, and she hadn’t reported him, but at least he was known. This killer was like a ghost, he could pretty much pass through walls. How the hell did one live under the radar in this day and age? Lifting his head slowly, his eyes narrowed as he thought about his silent question. The only way people could live under the radar, was if they were homeless and didn’t claim dole which was unlikely, or if they knew how to navigate the system and use it to their benefit.
It gave him an idea, and jumping in the car, he sped back to the nick.
18th June, 1030 hours – Boxmania Gymnasium, Sunderland
Stan was in the gym, throwing punches at the large bag that hung from the ceiling. One of the young lads, a new-comer to the boxing world, was holding the bag and grimacing whenever the punch connected. Stan wasn’t holding back.
He felt each impact shudder up his arm and into the muscles at the top - could feel the tension in his shoulders as he drew back and released in a steady rhythm. He was focussed, concentrating hard on his work-out. A lot of it was second nature now, twenty from the left, twenty from the right, ten from each knee, ten spinning kicks, and then repeat using upper-cuts instead. Sweat was beading on his forehead, dripping down on to the black sweat band he wore. For the time he worked out, his mind was a blank canvas.
He’d needed the workout today, wanted the challenge of kicking the hell out of something. He’d been listening that morning when Ali had turned up. What kind of name was Ali anyway? What self-respecting man would let himself be called a girl’s name? He faltered as the errant thought entered his mind and threw off his rhythm.
Coming back to earth momentarily, he registered the burn in his muscles, smelled the sickly scent of sweat as it congregated in the curves of his armpits, and ran down the small of his back into the top of his shorts. His body was telling him he’d done enough. Glancing at th
e clock he realised he’d been working out for well over an hour. Best not overdo it. I have planning to do.
‘Jacko,’ he yelled suddenly, ‘Come hold the bag for Ricky here, he’s held it for long enough.’ Jacko strode over, flexing his arm muscles. His wide chest caused his narrow hips to sway as he walked. Now that’s taking things to the extreme. Wonder if he realises how ridiculous he looks. Arms the size of tree trunks and I could still take him down in one move. Luckily for Jacko though, that wasn’t Stan’s intent. He moved to the locker room at the side of the boxing ring, grabbed his bag, and left.
Getting back to the apartment, he dumped his bag at the door and sat down in his computer room. I bet she’s hiding out in the bedroom with Jacob. Stupid bitch. Does she really think two cops sat outside, and a stupid alarm system will stop me?
He’d clocked the alarms when he visited last night. It was a sophisticated system, but it was also several years out of date. He had software that would reset the code remotely and allow him easy access. The two cops sat outside would pose little problem. He knew what cops were like. The slightest sniff of doughnuts and they’d be out of the car faster than daft mick. If he did it right, their deaths would be quick and painless. Well, relatively painless anyway. Then he would be able to finish his teachings. He intended to show Bree that she should never have survived in the first place.
Ideally, he wanted to find Grace and the aunt and use them as his bargaining chip, but he knew nothing about Jacob that would indicate who he had placed the old woman and kid with. That was what he needed to do now; go through the data and see what he could find on the guy who thought he could swoop in and take Bree from him.
Plugging in his search terms, he pushed his chair back and went to make a brew. This could take a while.
18th June, 1340 hours – O’Byrne residence, Sunderland
I am actually going nuts. Ben had been sitting in relative silence watching as Jacob set up the equipment he needed to work from home. Her home. Not his.
Realising her thoughts were petty, she headed into the kitchen. It wasn’t Jacob’s fault they were stuck inside. She didn’t mind his company, in fact she actually thought it was sweet that he was refusing to leave her side. Last night had meant a lot. More than she could express in words to be honest. Since the attack, she had never spent the whole night in a man’s company. The night Grace had been conceived, she’d been drunk. Another attempt at trying to drown out the screaming voice in her head shouting ‘why me’.
She didn’t remember a whole lot about the evening. She knew she’d been downing vodka, anything to try and numb the pain she felt in her heart, the feeling of utter desolation and worthlessness. She was already far gone when the guy had approached her in the bar, bought her a glass of cheap wine and reeled her in with his cheesy lines. What they were she couldn’t recall. The rest of the evening passed in flashes. She had vague recollection of him telling her he worked in London and was visiting on business. She didn’t know his name, hadn’t cared enough to ask. He’d held her up as he took her to his hotel room. She’d gone into the bathroom and thrown up. And then she must’ve blacked out, that or the drink really had addled her brain because when she had woken up he’d been on top of her, his pelvis grinding into hers as he grunted in her ear. She’d tried to push him off at that point, bile rising into her throat, fear stopping her being able to say the word no. He’d just shuddered above her then rolled off, kissing her sloppily on the cheek and turning over.
She’d been aware enough to get herself dressed, or rather, put right her clothing that he hadn’t even bothered removing. She’d swung her legs round off the bed, and promptly thrown up again on the carpet. She’d called a cab and made her way home. The thought of being pregnant hadn’t even crossed her mind - she was more worried about the chance of STDs, and the fact she’d put herself in the position where she became a target again. She blamed herself – if she hadn’t got so drunk, then she would never have been in the position where he could take advantage of her. She knew she’d implied no – he should have stopped. But the guilt stopped her reporting it to the police. She was certain they’d have hinted it was her fault – that she’d ‘asked’ for it. Now she knew differently – she’d been vulnerable, wanting to feel normal. She’d made a mistake getting so drunk, but he had taken advantage of the situation too.
She’d gone to the clinic the next day and they’d given her antibiotics as a precaution. The whole experience made her retreat into her shell.
Aoife had rung her several times trying to pull her out but she wasn’t ready. She just went through the motions: work, then home, then bed. Ben didn’t even realise she’d missed her period at first, going in for shifts at work and enduring the sympathetic stares from her colleagues. When she’d felt sick for the fourth time in a week, one of the other girls had said as a joke ‘You’re not pregnant are you?’ and that was it. Ben bought a test and saw two pink lines. It was only down to Aoife’s support that she’d decided to keep the baby.
Having Grace had been the one shining light in an otherwise dark time. She didn’t remember the man, he had no idea who she was, and whilst he had taken advantage of her, he hadn’t had a clue about Grace. Ben had left the father slot on the birth certificate blank, and the moment the tiny baby was placed in her arms, she’d known that no matter what anyone did to her, she would protect this child and raise her to be a good, kind human being. The rush of love she’d felt at that moment had been healing. She’d stopped living in the shadow of the rape, and started living.
Ben frowned as she stirred the coffee mindlessly. All those years of doing what I needed to raise Grace, trying to forget what happened, and learning not be threatened by every little hiccup ... But now he’s back invading my life and he’s a threat to my child and my family. There’s no way in hell he is getting his hands on my child. I’ll kill him before he gets that close.
Any remnants of fear she’d had over facing her nemesis again started to shrivel. He would not win. She had beaten him last time by surviving, and she’d damn well do the same again this time.
He didn’t know what he was getting himself in for. She’d had almost seven years of self-defence training and martial arts, seven years of preparing herself for the moment she had to protect herself. And even as the niggling voice in the back of her mind started screaming that she wasn’t ready, that she couldn’t do it, she knew in her heart she could, if she had to.
Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. Ali was on the case, even as she stood there stirring coffee.
18th June, 1435 hours – Major Incident Room, Sunderland City Centre Depot
‘So what’ve we got?’ asked Ali, standing at the end of the desk with his hands resting lightly as he glanced round his team. ‘Danny?’
Danny White had been responsible for the POLSA search once the CSIs were done with the murder scene. He ran a tight ship, but even with the best will in the world some searches aren’t successful.
‘It’s a centre for troubled kids,’ he said with a sigh. ‘There’s rubbish everywhere. The emergency exit at the back was wiped clean, though that’s definitely the way the footwear marks went down the corridor. It’s a good job the cleaners had chosen to polish the floor the night before. Kevin will tell you better, but I think the CSIs got some good prints. The rear yard was in the same state, empty crisp packets and bottles, smoked fag butts and chewing gum all over the place. It was all collected by the CSI and there was nothing else of note.’
‘The centre’s in the middle of the community. I think we can safely assume he left by the back to avoid being seen by the early risers. The pathologist has put the time of death at around 5.00 a.m. Kevin, can you update on the forensics, please.’ Ali moved position and sat down on the chair. He took a moment to glance around. His staff looked tired. Murders mean long hours and little sleep for the people determined to get the offender locked up.
He wondered if this is how they’d looked when Cass had been taken. There was stil
l a smell of determination though: they hadn’t given up. Appeased, he leaned back and waited for Kevin to finish. He already knew about the forensics: he’d read the report just before he’d gone into the meeting.
‘…and that’s it. Footwear marks with decent detail but there’re no hits on the database. Get me a shoe to compare to and they’ll be as good as fingerprints though. This guy is good; he takes what he needs to the scene and takes it with him when he leaves. Even the post-mortem hasn’t brought much evidence to the forefront. Dr Evans thinks the guy shaves his bits: there wasn’t even a stray pubic hair when he combed the victim.’ Kevin held his hands out in frustration. ‘Sorry, Ali. Wish there was more I could tell you.’
‘Me too,’ replied Ali. ‘Charlie, are we any further forward on why the DNA from her cheek matched our dead prisoner?’
‘Actually, boss, I might have something. I was waiting for the registrar to confirm, but I’ve been over to social services and looked at the files they had on Whitworth. There’re some inconsistencies at the start, at one point they actually thought there was two boys in the house. I’ve spoken to Kevin about it, and I’ve rang that woman at the DNA lab, Marie something-or-other. I think Whitworth had an identical twin, boss. It’s the only thing that could account for the same DNA being on our vic’s cheek. After the first few months the social services files become convoluted and they turn their attention to Whitworth, believing him to be the only child. I think it’s highly probable there was another child there, and that that child was left behind to be raised by an abusive father. Unfortunately, there’s no mention of the child anywhere else, I’ve requested birth certificates but they’re not here yet. Whitworth’s father died of an overdose back in the early nineties. I’ve not been able to trace anything further without a name though. As soon as I hear from the registrar, I’ll let you know.’
I've Been Watching You: a stunning crime thriller from The North East Police Series Page 24
