I've Been Watching You: a stunning crime thriller from The North East Police Series (26 page)

He walked back over to her, her face and body swollen and bruised from the beating. He had made sure she knew the reason why she had to be punished all the way through.
Women
shouldn’t be allowed to tease men, to tempt them and then say no.
Women
were nothing but the crap on the bottom of his shoe. They didn’t even deserve to be on the same planet. Men were far superior.

Reaching down he cut the cable ties that bound her hands, and carefully cut a section of her dark hair for his box. He made sure he picked up the spent condoms, and everything else he’d brought with him and placed everything inside his trusty black bag. He left through the back of the centre. It wouldn’t do for some nosy neighbour to see him coming out at this time in the morning. He made sure he locked the door, then made his way round the corner to where his car was waiting.

Turning the key in the ignition, he cranked the stereo up and grinned.

He turned and took in one long-lasting gaze at the centre, before whistling softly to himself as he drove off.

Chapter Eighteen

16
^th
June, 0800 hours – Thompson residence, Sunderland

Gill yawned and took the last sip of her morning tea. It was getting late; if Clarice didn’t hurry up she’d end up being late for her class. Deciding it was time to intervene, she made her way to Clarice’s room.

‘Come on, lazy bones, time to get up,’ she said as she entered. A puzzled look passed over her face as she registered the room was flooded with daylight, the curtains wide open. The bed was made and had not been slept in.

Worried now, Gill made her way to her own bedroom and picked up her mobile phone. The screen was blank, no messages from Clarice.

Where the hell is she? She’d text if she wasn’t coming home. Unless her battery died – I’m gonna kill that girl when she gets home. Making me worry like this.

She was in two minds as to whether to ring around Clarice’s friends like a paranoid mother hen, or whether to head to work and wait for Clarice to contact her. Deciding on the latter, she grabbed her handbag and left the house.

The drive to the centre was not a pleasant one. Gill didn’t know if it was the unease at Clarice not contacting her, or whether the roads were just full of arseholes but she felt like she’d pipped her horn at more than enough people through the journey. One guy had cut her off, one woman overtook her on a normal town single carriageway and another almost went into the back of her whilst applying her lip gloss. Who on earth applies lip gloss when driving anyway? Surely there were laws against such things.

Gill felt pounding in her temples and groaned.
Not a migraine, please not a migraine
.

Glancing round the car park she realised she was the first to arrive. Part of her had hoped Stan or Brian would be there: opening all the window shutters was a nightmare. Half of them felt like they rusted shut every night. She found herself smiling as she got out of the car though, her keen eyes picking up Stan’s form walking towards her from the little row of nearby shops.

Deciding to wait for him, she waved and paused at the door.

‘Morning,’ she said as he approached, her tone much chirpier than she felt. She wished she’d worn a different outfit that morning, maybe comfy joggers or something. Her usual bright tunic with leggings felt tight and uncomfortable today, her tummy bloated.
That bloody sandwich yesterday, knew I shouldn’t have eaten the white bread.

‘Morning back. Another day, another dollar,’ sighed Stan with a wink. He stood back as Gill turned her key in the lock and opened the front door.

She crinkled her nose as a metallic smell burst forth from the corridor.

‘Yuck, what’s that horrible smell?’

Stan placed a hand on her arm, his silence causing her to stop. She felt nerves flutter and her heartbeat increased. The daylight had flooded the corridor, and something wasn’t right. The dark floor was shiny somehow, the corridor threatening as opposed to welcoming.

They stepped inside together, Stan holding Gill’s arm as they made their way down the corridor.

‘Hello?’ yelled Stan suddenly, making Gill jump backwards, impacting with his chest.

‘Damn it, Stan,’ she hissed back at him.

They reached the door to her office and Gill pushed it open, and as she saw Clarice on the floor, covered in blood with her glassy eyes staring straight at her, she felt the scream begin from the depths of her toes and rise through her body. Stan pulled her out of the room forcefully, holding her head to his chest and she screamed again, her legs giving way under her. He sank to the floor with her, not having a choice, and held her as she screamed again. With the hand that was free, he dialled 999, and as the operator connected, he said, ‘Police please,’ his voice shaking as he said the words.

16
^th
June, 0810 hours – Major Incident Room, Sunderland City Centre Depot

Ali felt like he hadn’t slept in a week. One of the neighbours in their block, had seen fit to have music blasting until stupid o’clock. It had reached the point where he had seriously been considering going down the stairs, kicking the door in and ripping the plug off the damned stereo. He’d watched out of his window as the police had finally arrived just passed 2 a.m. and told them to turn it down. One of the other neighbours who’d had enough had phoned for the cavalry.

Then when he left home to get to work, he’d hit traffic on the Wear bridge, which, thanks to road-works on the Queen Alexandra bridge, had been about ten times busier than normal. He’d wanted to be in for half seven, having loads to catch up on from the day before.

He pulled into the rear yard, found a space and turned the engine off, before sighing deeply and running his hands over his eyes. He knew in his gut that something was going to happen today; that sixth sense that cops have was bringing a feeling of foreboding. He felt his mouth open in a long yawn, and got out of the car. Failing to see the slick of oil, he felt his foot slip away and before he knew it he was on the deck.

For Christ’s sake, falling over? Really? What am I, five years old?
He pulled himself back to his feet. His pristine trousers were now covered in mud, gravel and oil. He felt his leg burn a little and realised he’d took some skin off his knee. His only saving grace was that no one had seen him fall.

Or so he thought, until, after a quick change into his spare trousers, he entered the Major Incident Team Office.

‘You fell over, you fell over,’ chanted his smirking colleagues.

Accepting the jibes, he grinned back. ‘Did someone put that oil there just for me?’

It was hard taking the ribbing today, though. All he wanted to do was shout ‘Fuck off’ at the top of his voice, which wasn’t like him.

The shrill sound of his phone ringing cut through the remaining chuckles. He strode to his desk and answered.

‘McKay.’

‘DI McKay, this is Inspector Hewitt from the comms room. I need to give you some information in regards to a murder. The call has just come in now.’

Ali groaned silently. A murder was all he needed today, of all days.

16
^th
June, 0840 hours –Sunderland Outreach Centre

Ben and Kevin pulled up in the van just as the Major Incident Team’s car parked up on the road outside the centre. A uniformed cop had put tape over the closed front door and set up another cordon around the building.

‘Where’s the loggist?’ Ali asked loudly as he looked around.

‘Sorry, sir. I was single-crewed when I got here. Officers Sewell and Cambridge are over with the two people who found the body.’

‘One of them is the guardian of the deceased, yes?’

‘Yes, sir. I believe her name is Gill Thompson. She’s hysterical, sir. Cambridge has phoned for an ambulance.’

‘OK. Ben, Kevin, can you do a quick walk-through of the scene. I don’t want too many boots trailing through there and messing up any evidence. So far the entry since the murder seems to have been minimal.’

At their nod, he strode off in the direction of Gill and Stan.

Ben and Kevin were dressed in white scene suits within minutes, the hoods up and a mask over their faces. They wore two pairs of nitrile gloves on their hands to prevent any contamination. Kevin pushed open the door, and both ducked under the police tape. Keeping to the outer edges of the corridor to avoid contaminating potential footwear evidence, they both made their way down the corridor. Ben knew the log had said the victim was in Gill’s office and as they reached the door, she stopped Kevin. Using his foot, Kevin nudged the door open.

The blood was stark against the pale carpet, and it was immediately obvious that the victim was deceased. There was too much blood for her not to be. Ben grabbed hold of Kevin’s shoulder to peer round. Seeing the criss-cross cuts across the girl’s exposed breasts, the dark lines on her stomach where she had been stabbed, and the heavy bruising to her face and neck, she gasped.

In an instant she was taken back in time.

He had his hands round her throat and was squeezing hard. Why the hell had she stopped? She knew better than to approach a man on his own in the middle of nowhere, even if it did look like he’d had an accident and fell off his bike. She felt bile rise in her throat as she panicked, clawing at the man’s hands. She heard him say ‘I’ve been watching you,’ and momentarily wondered what he meant. Darkness had been threatening to close in on her when he’d finally let go, and slammed his fist into her face. She’d felt a couple of teeth loosen, and the bitter metallic taste of blood had filled her mouth. She was gasping for breath, her stomach burning where he’d shoved the knife in. She knew he intended to kill her. She felt her hands pull as he dragged her by the ties that bound her, could feel stones and dirt scraping down her back, pulling her skin off. She tried to scream but the blood gurgled in her throat causing her to gag and cough. As the dragging stopped, and he dropped her arms, she tried to turn and crawl away. Blood spilled from her mouth and her throat was finally free to scream, and scream she did. Loudly, begging someone to help her. He grabbed her shoulders and roughly threw her on to her back. In a swift motion she felt him cut through her top, exposing her functional sports bra. Within seconds that was cut through too and he sat astride her, staring at her breasts glowing in the moonlight.

In that instant she understood he wasn’t just intending to kill her.

Caught in the memories, Ben stumbled against Kevin, her breathing shallow and laboured, her eyes wide in fear. Turning he caught her as her legs gave way, ‘Ben? Ben you need to listen. Breathe slowly. It’s a panic attack, that’s all. Just breathe.’

He’d hit her numerous times now, she kept fighting to stay conscious but her mind was telling her to just give up. When he pulled at her leggings, she screamed again, tears of utter fear streaming down her face, asking him why, begging him to stop. She heard the rustle of paper being ripped and forced her eyes open, pleading with him to stop as he rolled the condom down his penis.

From there her memory blurred, the next few hours melding into a sea of pain and fading consciousness. She remembered him dragging his knife across her breasts, the pain as the skin separated and wept red tears of blood. She vaguely remembered him plunging the knife into her abdomen a couple of times, and the feel of his hands round her throat as he squeezed so hard that her hyoid bone cracked under the pressure. And she remembered lying still as he gathered his things to leave, trying to stay motionless so he thought she was dead. Knowing that dead was the only way he’d leave her there. And as he left, whistling an eerie tune that faded with each step, she finally succumbed to the darkness.

Kevin held Ben up, talking to her softly, trying to pull her out of wherever her mind had taken her. Eventually her eyes started to blink, bright with tears as they fluttered, trying to focus on him. This wasn’t just a panic attack. She couldn’t focus, was finding it hard to breathe. She was having trouble speaking too, couldn’t seem to string a sentence together. Slowing her breathing purposefully, she gripped Kevin’s arms, using the police insignia badge on his chest to hold her concentration.

‘It was him,’ she managed to whisper. Though she knew Kevin wouldn’t know what she meant. She hadn’t told anyone except Jacob. Suddenly she wanted Jacob there more than anything. ‘I need Jacob Tulley here,’ she added, gasping at the end of the sentence.

Kevin led her out of the building and to the crime scene van. She’d gone pale, her skin was clammy, and she was still struggling to breathe. She knew she had to say something, tell Ali and Kevin, but she couldn’t.
It was him, he’s back.

‘Everything OK?’ asked Ali, coming to meet them at the cordon.

‘Not really, Ben’s had a panic attack. Can you take her to the van, please, Ali. I need to call someone, and get another CSI here. It’ll mean the scene’s held up for a while – they’ll need to travel. But I’ll crack on with the photography in the meantime.’

Ali took her by the arm and he led her to the CSI van.

Ben started to shake, shock setting in. Her mouth was set in a grim line, and she hadn’t spoken a word since being led outside by Kevin. He’d phoned Jacob, explaining the situation and hanging up when Jacob had said he’d be right there, and had contacted Deena by radio, asking her to attend as soon as she was done at the job she was at currently.

Craig was at a cannabis farm with Faith, a large one, exterior, too, so it wasn’t like they could just up and leave it for another day, and they’d both be tied up for a while. Sue was up at court so couldn’t attend, and Kevin’s other staff member, Kimberley, had phoned in sick the day before. It meant they were thin on the ground. As he headed back into the building with his camera, he spoke with Jeremy Black, the CSM who ran the volume crime team, and made sure he was OK to pick up the slack. If anything else major happened, it would mean phoning in staff off rest days, not something the force liked to do as it ate rapidly into the already stretched budgets.