I've Been Watching You: a stunning crime thriller from The North East Police Series (21 page)

‘I have no intention of hurting him. Truth be told, we both have issues. I don’t even know where it’s going yet, but I do like him. I guess time will tell if it grows into anything else.’

TJ nodded in response, then grimaced as her mouth tried to smile. ‘Darn wires. Keep forgetting they’re there then they pull at my face. It’s the weirdest feeling.’

‘I bet. Well, I’d best get off. Have a mile-long list of stuff to do today.’

TJ watched as Ben left the ward, her back straight and her camera case thrown over one shoulder, banging off her hip.

13
^th
June, 1125 hours – Whitworth residence, Sunderland

John sat staring at the computer screen in front of him, his gaze focussed on the blinking mouse arrow without actually seeing it. He hadn’t been able to sleep when he’d gotten in the night before. His mind kept flashing over what had happened in the car park, replaying the events over and over.

His eyes were troubled and bloodshot.
What the hell have I done?

After killing Ann, it had seemed like natural progression, moving onto someone else, the burn to see their face taking over almost to the point where it consumed him. But it hadn’t given him what he wanted. He had seen fear in TJ’s eyes as he swung the wrench round, but it wasn’t fear he craved. He wanted the buzz he had felt as the car had hit Ann’s legs, he wanted the satisfaction of hearing the thud as the car had impacted. Hurting TJ hadn’t been the same. And she hadn’t died.

The whole city was on alert now. A photofit of his description had been circulated through the news, and it kept flashing up on the news website he was hovering over at the present time. It looked nothing like him, and everything like him.
What the hell am I going to do?
Why didn’t I research properly – it was obvious there would be CCTV in the city centre.

A little voice set up niggling in the back of his mind.
Murderer. You’re going to get caught.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to have been smooth sailing, get in, get it done, get out. He didn’t know where this over-analysis had come from, but he didn’t like it. The niggling voice grew louder, drowning out even the ring of the telephone.

What am I going to do now?

A sudden burst of anger caused him to swipe his arm across the table, sending the cold cup of coffee clattering to the ground, splashing brown liquid up the bottom of his trousers and the wall behind.

I’m never going to see Matthew again.
No court would ever allow a murderer near a boy.
This is all Eve’s fault. Damn her for not dying, for going into that fucking home. If she’d died in the first place none of this would have happened.

His mouth set in a grim line as he pondered. Clarity followed a moment later – if Eve was to die now then balance would be restored. Matthew would crave his father’s love and attention if his mother was no longer around. It would be difficult, harder than knocking someone down or hitting them with a wrench. All suspicion had to lead far away from him. A smile flittered across his lips – maybe it should point towards Carolyn. Maybe Matthew’s aunt wouldn’t be as innocent as she seemed. The courts would have to award him full custody if Matthew’s aunt was accused of killing his mum.

Turning his head back to the laptop, his smile widened. Now he had a plan.

13
^th
June, 1320 hours – Tunstall, Sunderland City Centre

He loaded up the screen as he threw the things he needed into his black bag. Time for one last look at Clarice – there was loads going on today and it would be his last chance for a while. Her time table showed she was on free time for the next couple of hours. It was more than he could hope that she’d be at home. It was getting closer to her night out, closer to the time when he would have her as his, taste the skin that smelled faintly of coconut, and touch the hair that shone so brightly in the sunshine.

She had no idea – was still flattered by his passing attention in fact. That was the trouble with women, they took everything to heart. He had sent her the occasional message, innocent comments that she would construe as being all about her.
Stupid cow hasn’t even noticed I’ve not been in the classroom. She just keeps chatting and flirting. Like they all did. Every single one of them. Sidelong glances from the sides of their eyes, tiny smiles aimed just at me. She won’t flirt once I have her though. She’ll cry and beg for mercy. Like they all did.

His brow furrowed as Clarice’s bedroom came into focus, and then he grinned. She was lying on the bed face down, her head buried in some book or other. The camera angle caught the swell of her breasts as they were pushed up towards her chin, her neck lengthening as she stretched. His breath caught a little in his throat. She truly was divine. She would satisfy him, she had to. It didn’t matter that he’d had to become more experimental with each one since Bree, that it was getting harder to achieve his goal with each one. Clarice was
different
. She was the one he had been watching for, he was certain of it.

He paused for a moment, staring at Clarice as memories flooded his mind. His first time with a woman hadn’t been what he had expected. He’d lived with his father long enough to realise that women were playthings, but his father had decided he needed initiating early. Said a man should always know how to treat a woman, and then had proceeded to beat the crap out of whichever whore he had been with at the time. His father had beaten the teeth from her very mouth, and then called his son into the room.

He always thought his first time with a woman would be painful for her, had dreamt about hurting even back then. What he hadn’t realised was that it could hurt him. He had entered the room apprehensively, expecting his father’s fist at the side of his head. Instead the old man had been sitting in the dirty rocking chair by the window, his trousers round his ankles. The whore of the moment was tied to the bed. She alternated alcohol-fuelled tirades of abuse with pleas for release, all the while spraying spittle and blood from her smashed mouth. ‘It’s your turn, boy,’ his father had sneered, ‘if you can even get that wiener to stand up on its own.’

The whore had looked at him then, this mini me of the monster that had beaten her and hurt her, but that kept her fuelled with the vodka she preferred, and the crack she partook of on a daily basis. She had licked her blood covered tongue over her lips, and cackled at him loudly. ‘He couldn’t get it up if he tried, could you, sweetness?’

He remembered feeling calm as he approached the bed. He was scared, both of what his father would do if he did what he wanted to the whore, and of what he’d do if he didn’t. He knew the basics, he was thirteen after all. But it wasn’t the thought of sex that turned him on. Even back then, the sight of the blood covering the whore’s mouth, the bruising to her jaw where his father had thumped her, this was what had turned him on.

Blanking out his father’s evil leer, he knelt on the bed between her spread legs, raised his fist, and for the first time in his life, he felt pleasure. His father had ended up pulling him off the whore, not perturbed at all by the fact his son wanted to hurt her, not fuck her. His father had thrown him into the hall, then shut the door behind him as he went back to her.

But by then, the damage was done. If it hadn’t been preordained by the constant abuse of his childhood, being let loose to vent his anger against his father’s whore had taught him that he got pleasure from causing pain. His only regret at the time had been that the whore had lived.
But they don’t live now.

His eyes refocused on Clarice, and the present.
It’s your turn, bitch.

Chapter Fifteen

14
^th
June, 0850 hours – Newstead Residential Home, Sunderland

John waited at the back of the building until the last staff member stubbed out her cigarette and entered through the insecure fire door. Most people knew the staff used this area as an ashtray, despite the rules that there was no smoking on the home’s grounds.

He caught the door before it clicked shut, and silently made his way inside.

He’d already checked the staff list before he left the house, and knew that the home was on minimal staff today, many of them off sick with a nicely timed sickness bug. Which worked well in his favour. Fewer staff meant it was busier for them. At this time of day, they’d have served breakfast and would be slowly but surely doing the rounds across the two floors of residents. Personal care they called it. In reality it was wiping arses and cleaning dirty underwear.

It gave him the perfect opportunity to slip in unnoticed and start implementing his plan.

By the end of the day, Eve would be dead. Of this he was certain.

He made his way to boiler room, slipped inside and tucked himself into a corner to wait. Shift changeover was at 4 p.m. – that was when he would implement his plan. With the machines droning beside him and his mind finally at peace with the knowledge of what would make his whole situation better, John fell asleep.

14
^th
June, 1320 hours – Tunstall, Sunderland City Centre

Touch-typing, he replied to Clarice’s message on Facebook.

‘Am good thanks. It’s 2moro ur out in town isn’t it? I’m out with some of the lads. Might see you out.’

The best laid plans required preparation; if she thought he was going to be out anyway, it would make it all the easier to lure her away. He’d been monitoring her conversations with friends about the upcoming night out, and knew they were planning to end up in Retox nightclub. He’d already scoped out the club, knew where the bouncers stood and where the CCTV blind spots were.

Her prompt reply made him smile: ‘Yea starting in the Tannenbaum then going around the town. Cocktail hour in the Lucky Duck from 8 p.m. – u like cocktails?’

It couldn’t be easier to plan a murder when the victim was sucking it up as much as Clarice was. He’d have her in his hands soon enough. And then he would make her pay for her stupidity. No self-respecting woman should throw herself at a man, hell a self-respecting woman shouldn’t be throwing themselves at any one. Clarice was still young, still learning the ropes. He felt his scar pull as he smiled widely at the screen.

Not long now.

14
^th
June, 1835 hours – Thompson residence, Sunderland

Clarice pulled her hair back into a ponytail and dragged a clean t-shirt over her head. She made her way into the kitchen where Gill was busily chopping carrots.

‘Hey, sweetheart. Would you mind peeling those spuds for me?’ asked Gill, nodding her head towards the pile of potatoes on the side.

‘Sure. I’m going into town in the morning; need a new outfit for tomorrow night. Do you need anything getting?’

Clarice picked up the peeler and started removing the outer skin from the spuds, listening to the track playing quietly on the radio. She smiled a little; Bruno Mars singing about being lazy. It had been ages since she’d heard that song.

‘I think I’m OK,’ Gill began, then paused before adding, ‘Actually could you get me a bag of those little cheesy biscuit things from the pound shop? And maybe some popcorn? Was thinking we might have a movie night on Monday if you’re up for it?’

Clarice grinned widely. ‘Wine and pizza?’

Gill nodded.

‘You betcha. I’ll sort some bits out. We haven’t had movie night in ages!’ Putting the peeler down, Clarice turned and grabbed Gill in a bear hug from behind. ‘I love you, Gill. It’ll be great! Who do you have a fancy for, then? The new Fast and Furious movie is out now, a bit of Vin Diesel and Paul Walker? Or there’s the Hobbit movie – we haven’t seen the latest instalment yet? Or there’s even the old faithful classics like Dirty Dancing?’

‘Why don’t you choose a couple? You take care of the movies and I’ll sort the food and wine? You did say you’re on study day on Tuesday right? I don’t want you getting drunk on a school night.’

‘Yup, study day is Tuesday. I’m already well ahead though. The only assignment I’ve got at the minute is the one due in three weeks, and I’ve done all my prep and am about two thirds of the way through the write-up.’

‘So where is it you’re going tomorrow night, then?’

‘We’re starting at the Tannenbaum then doing the rounds. Think the plan is to end up in Retox. I don’t want to be too late back though. Early class Monday morning.’

‘Who you going with? People off your course?’

‘Yeah. You remember Jess, with the short blonde hair? And you know Amy and Philippa. There’ll be more turn up but those are the definites. We might even be meeting up with some of the boys off the course.’

The last comment was nonchalant, and Gill happened to look up at the same time as a faint blush passed over Clarice’s cheeks. She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.

‘Boys, huh? Any particular boy you have your eye on?’

‘Well, there is one guy I quite like. He’s called Gareth. He’s a mature student. We’ve been chatting.’

‘Mature student? Just how mature are we talking?’

‘I dunno, probably about thirty, I think. He’s on my course.’

‘Ok, well you know what I always say. And ring me if you need a lift home. I don’t like the thought of you getting taxis on your own.’

‘I know, Gill, if I can’t be good be careful. If I don’t get a cab with the other girls I’ll give you a ring, but don’t wait up, OK. Don’t want you cursing me when you’re tired at work on Monday.’

They both went back to their peeling, a comfortable silence between them as the radio finished with Bruno and moved onto the more classic Queen.