I've Been Watching You: a stunning crime thriller from The North East Police Series (19 page)

‘I worry that something might happen to Gracey too. Sunderland’s a big city. Maybe we’d be better living in the country somewhere?’

‘You can’t wrap the child in cotton wool. She’s a good kid. She knows not to talk to strangers and anything else at her age would just make her scared. She has a good set of friends and she goes to a great school. You take her to the country and she loses out on all the things she should have as a child, friends who live close by, parks to play in. I think you need to stop worrying so much. You’re doing a wonderful job of raising a confident, happy little girl. You can’t change the bad things that the minority do – they’ll always do it regardless, but you can focus on living life as best as you can.’

Aoife took a slurp of her tea. She didn’t want Ben to move, would hardly see her or Grace if they did. And she knew in her heart that they both belonged where they were, at least for the time being. She’d think about looking for somewhere else if things worked out for Ben and Jacob, and call it intuition, but she already felt like it would. The two were well suited, even if they didn’t see it yet. And as much as she knew that the future wasn’t preordained, she just had a feeling that everything would work out fine.

Finishing her tea, Aoife pecked Ben on the cheek, and said, ‘I’m heading up to bed now. There’s a Victoria sponge in the fridge, and some crispy cakes in the tin if you’re peckish. Me and Grace did a little baking.’

Ben smiled after her, and downed the rest of her tea. She was too het up to sleep just yet. Making her way into the living room, she selected a book off the shelf and opened it. It was one Aoife had read recently, a classic Sherlock Holmes. She found herself drawn into the plot woven by Arthur Conan-Doyle, and pulled her knees to her chin as she sat on the sofa. Finally her eyes started to blur and tiredness seeped through her mind into her brain and made her realise it was bedtime. Glancing at the clock, she was surprised to see it read 02.02 a.m. Definitely time for bed now. She put the book on the table and checked the windows and doors before heading upstairs.

12
^th
June, 0205 hours – Tunstall, Sunderland City Centre

Damn he wished that had been him. Though if it were, he knew he’d have done the job properly – he wouldn’t have left her alive to tell her tale. The local news headlines were ablaze with an assault that had happened near the town centre, a female solicitor robbed and assaulted. The reporters had got hold of it quickly: it had happened earlier that night. He knew it would be front page in the print editions. According to the report, she wasn’t dead so the story would fade past page two the day after, as was usually the way.

He would have done it better. Any fool could hit a woman with a ‘metal object’. Doing what he did took skill, class even. He’d had a lot of practice, perfected his methods. And in all the time he’d been doing it, he’d never been caught. The box on his shelf held twelve envelopes now, the delectable Clarice would be thirteen. Unlucky for some, he smirked to himself. Thirteen was a good number and he liked it. He’d have to make this one extra special, maybe hint to the stupid cops, who were never wily enough to catch him, that this wasn’t his first time. His smile widened. Hell, he’d pretty much have to leave them a note saying this is number thirteen. They were so dense he didn’t even know if they’d understand that. He’d had experience with cops – the various jobs he’d done had meant interacting with them on a fairly regular basis. He usually found that they were over-muscled idiots of less-than-average intelligence who couldn’t solve a crime if you handed it to them on a plate.

Whoever had attacked the girl had guts though – CCTV all over the town centre meant the attacker could be picked up somewhere along the line. It would be mildly interesting to see the case progress. He nodded once as he added the headline to his favourites list – he’d keep an eye on it.

Feeling restless now, he flicked the screen over to Clarice’s bedroom. He saw a lump wrapped up in the bedclothes and sighed. It was too late. She was already sleeping and likely wouldn’t move until the next morning now. He hit sleep on his computer system and made his way into what usually stood as a spare room. Fastening the laces to his Nike Air Max trainers, he pulled his iPhone from his pocket and selected the playlist labelled ‘running’. Setting the treadmill going, he hopped on and listened as the heavy rock from the likes of Rammstein and Drowning Pool filled his ears, his feet pounding as he found his rhythm. Now established, he increased the speed and focussed on the music, sweat slowly starting to pool at the small of his back. He’d be there for hours now. There was something freeing about being able to exercise whenever the need overtook him. He liked the control.

Chapter Thirteen

12
^th
June, 0920 hours – ICU Ward, Sunderland Royal Hospital

Ali McKay made his way to the lift through the rabbit-warren of corridors in the hospital. The smell was almost overwhelming – that disinfectant used in hospitals the world over. A faint whiff of school-dinner type food drifted over from wherever the canteen was situated, adding to the nauseating scent. Ali frowned. Even through the standard hospital smells there was always an undertone of death and illness. It had always scared him as a child; he’d kicked up a fuss the size of Mount Everest on every occasion his mum had seen fit to take him there for treatment. Now it wasn’t so much the fear but the memory of fear that bothered him. He’d been taken there when his dad had died, a final goodbye for a wife and gaggle of children too young to deal with such horror. He’d only ever stepped foot in hospitals when he absolutely had to since then.

In the lift, he felt his stomach stop churning and slowly return to normal. The ICU ward was on the sixth floor, and he was the only person in the lift. He hoped TJ was awake. He really needed to know if she’d seen her attacker. The CCTV was being examined by one of the uniforms, but it was arduous work and would take hours to get through footage from all the different camera angles. Then, if someone was identified as a suspect, the other cameras would have to be looked at for further intelligence anyway.

The lift dinged loudly. The automated voice told him politely that he had arrived at his destination. He walked down the corridor and buzzed at the door for entry. When a quiet-spoken female voice asked his identity, he pressed the button on the wall and answered.

‘Detective Inspector McKay, North East Police. I’m here in relation to Teresa Tulley.’

The door beeped loudly and he made his way down the ward to TJ’s side room. He’d attended late last night, had even sat with Jacob a while and chatted. TJ had still been unconscious after her surgery.

Reaching the door, he knocked softly, pushing the door open and glancing inside. TJ was propped in the bed, her eyes closed and the heart monitor to her side beeping it’s declaration of life.

Jacob was asleep, his head resting on the side of the bed. His position didn’t look comfortable. Ali didn’t want to wake him, but he needed to know if TJ had woken up. He walked round the bed, and gently placed his hand on Jacob’s arm.

Almost in slow motion, Jacob woke, grabbed Ali’s hand and had him on his knees in a move that was so smooth that Ali almost doubted he had actually had his hand on Jacob’s arm in the first place. He gasped as pain shot through his wrist.

Through gritted teeth, he said, ‘Tulley, it’s Ali. Now let me go.’

He watched as Jacob’s eyes widened in shock, saw the recognition set in and then the horror as Jacob realised what the soldier in him had done. He let go of Ali’s hand.

‘I’m so sorry, Ali. Army background, PTSD. Sometimes I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t. No excuses though, I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.’

‘You’re a good guy to have in your corner in a fight, Tulley. Don’t worry about it – it’s not the first time I’ve almost cried like a girl and no doubt it won’t be the last. PTSD huh? Must make life tough.’

Jacob sighed. ‘Sometimes, yeah. It’s like one minute you’re fine, just going about your daily business. Then the next day it’s bam, you’re back in Kandahar or Afghanistan or wherever, just for a second. But that second is as real in your mind as the one before.’ He patted TJ’s hand softly, ‘She knows how to deal when I have an episode. Always has, even before she spoke with my counsellor and learned some of the calm techniques.’

‘Did she wake up last night after I’d left?’

‘No, she’s been out since last night. The doc said her body needed time to process what had happened.’

‘She’s actually awake now.’ TJ’s voice was croaky and muffled, her facial movements restricted by the wire in her jaw. ‘Need water.’

Jacob grabbed a plastic cup and filled it from the jug on the stand, popped in a straw and held it to TJ’s lips. She sucked for a few seconds, and leaned back into the pillows.

‘How come I’m here?’ she asked, directing her gaze at Jacob.

‘You were attacked last night. In the car-park at the solicitors. Do you remember anything?’

TJ’s face paled to an even lighter shade. ‘Attacked? By who?’

‘That’s what we’re hoping you can tell us. I’m DI Ali McKay, North East Police. Can you tell me what happened from the time you left the office?’

TJ closed her eyes for a moment. ‘It was late. I’d been working on the Ferguson case and everyone else had left ages before. I was the last to leave so I had to set the alarm. I locked the back door and walked to my car. That’s … pretty much all I remember.’ Her face twisted into a grimace and she gasped. She looked to Jacob for help.

His nod was almost imperceptible as he got to his feet, grabbed his stick and left the room to find the nurse.

‘If you remember anything else will you give me a call? My name’s on this card. I’ll leave you in peace, Miss Tulley,’ said Ali as he went to leave.

‘Wait. I heard him say something, I think he said that he was a father and we had wronged him. It’s possible it’s a client.’

‘Anything else stand out about him?’

‘His eyes. They were flat. Creepy looking. Kind of like sharks eyes.’

‘Ok. If you remember anything else please call me, any time day or night. My mobile’s always on.’

As Ali left the room Teresa groaned again: her face felt like she’d walked into a steam roller. The nurse followed Jacob back in, and injected some morphine into the cannula in TJ’s hand, and before she knew it she was floating on a sea of clouds.

12
^th
June, 1220 hours – Whitworth residence, Sunderland

John got out of bed and stretched, yawning loudly. That was the best he’d slept in forever. When he had got home it had been late, but he’d checked the headlines persistently until news of the attack had been forthcoming. He’d bookmarked the article and had read it multiple times through the night. He was still buzzing, his arm ached from the force with which he’d struck her head and when he closed his eyes he could still see the blood. Unfortunately, she’d survived, not died as he’d hoped. She wouldn’t be the same though. He’d hit her with so much force that her mind would be addled – there was no way she’d be able to identify him.

Striding downstairs he popped the kettle on and checked his laptop. He already had a list of jobs outstanding –working from home as an IT technician meant people asked for his help whenever the need took them.

He loved computers. It gave him a sense of enjoyment knowing he could solve problems. What he didn’t like was the fools who needed the IT support. Half of them didn’t even know what the alt key was. He was glad he worked online and on the phone – if people could see his face when he dealt with those buffoons he’d end up getting the sack.

He checked the emails and organised them into a list, most urgent at the top. It was going to be a long afternoon, but he had enough time to reread the article. He brought up his bookmarks and had a quick scan. His stomach clenched in response to certain key words as he read: attack, injury, life-threatening. It felt good knowing he was the cause.

If that bitch hadn’t stuck her nose into my business, then she wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed now.

Turning his attention back to the list of emails, he started work.

12
^th
June, 1510 hours – Tunstall, Sunderland City Centre

It had been several days now since he had obtained the lesson notes off Clarice. It was approaching time to give them back to her so no one was any the wiser when she did not go home. No-one had seen his face and nothing would point towards him. He’d been into the town several times now to scope out the club where he knew she’d end up. There would definitely be no room for error.

Clicking open his fake social network profile, he typed her a quick message asking if they could meet up so he could give her the notes back. He signed it with a smiley face: unthreatening, docile, the norm. Even in his forties he could keep up with the youth of today. His boyish looks helped of course. Most people presumed him to be late twenties, maybe early thirties at a push.

He sat lost in thought for a moment, and was almost surprised when his computer pinged at him. One of the database searches for Bree had come back, and with a positive result no less. Grinning from ear to ear, he opened the report and scanned the information.

Well, well, wonders never cease. She’s right here in sunny Sunderland. Although, she goes by a different name now. As soon as I’m done with Clarice I’ll go looking, see how old Bree has been for all the years since we last met.

Now he knew she lived in Sunderland, and the name she was using, she’d be easy to trace. It’d be a piece of cake to find out where she was living, who she was shacked up with, and even better, it’d be simple to restore the balance. She would die as she should have all those years before. Momentarily, he wondered if her breasts were still as fantastic, whether they still bore his mark of possession. He felt himself growing hard just thinking about it.