I've Been Watching You: a stunning crime thriller from The North East Police Series (3 page)

It’s not the right time.

Not yet
.

He flicked to the final screen and his eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing in concentration as he leaned in towards the screen. There was someone there. But it wasn’t her. The man was dressed in black, a scarf covering his features. Instinctively he froze as the man’s eyes stared straight into the camera lens, and for a moment he thought it had been found. His breath escaped in a small whoosh as the figure turned and began tipping out drawers onto the bed, selecting small items of jewellery and filling his pockets. Within minutes the figure had gone, the room now completely upturned.

He smiled to himself. He would get to see her reaction when she walked into that room, saw all her precious things had been taken. The timing couldn’t have been better. This would quite likely help him decide who he would have. He checked the clock in the corner of the screen; it was time to make nice and head to his day job. Routine itself was as important as changing it.

As he jumped on the metro a few minutes later, he acknowledged that he liked the city. Cities normally held appeal for the obvious reason – lots of choice, anonymity. But this city was different from the others he’d been to. The last North East one he’d stayed in had been Durham, and that had been years before. It had been nice enough, but a little too small for his liking. A person could get lost in Sunderland if they felt the need, and it was easy to make contacts; hell, he even liked the football team.

He glanced around the carriage. Not one person made eye contact. He could make them all witnesses to something terrible and none of them would even remember his face.

Not today though. Today was about remaining invisible. He lowered his eyes back down to the
Echo
he had in his hand, taking in the headlines.

A soft smile spread across his lips. No one ever knew who he was.

Not really.

Half the time even he didn’t know.

And that was just how he liked it.

28
^th
May, 1810 hours – Sunderland University Campus

Jacob Tulley stood at the podium in the empty lecture hall and sighed. Where the hell were the students? He’d had pretty much full capacity of applicants, the date had been arranged and the lecture hall booked for the summer ahead. He had spent hours prepping his lecture material. Today was intended to be mainly ice-breaking and running over the various aspects of the Introduction to Digital Forensics course.

But nobody was here.

Muttering under his breath, he  logged out of the computer, grabbed his walking cane and made his way up the steps to the door. Just as he reached for the handle the door flew open towards him. Losing his balance from the impact, he felt his leg give and he sank to his knee, bracing himself with his right arm. His leg burned and for a moment he was transported back in time.

The sandstorm was raging around him, the sharp granules hitting his skin like needles pricking. He couldn't hear a thing for the howling of the wind. As the storm suddenly stopped as fast as it had begun, he paused, surprised by the silence. He flung his hand upright with the fist clenched. A simple command for his team: Stop!

He didn't know quite what he had seen, or even sensed, but something had caused his hairs to stand to attention. The air stilled around them. Even before anything happened he found himself yelling ‘Get down!’ The air around them exploded and he felt something hit his leg and lower back, but he was focussed on his men and barely even noticed.

He saw a set of vacant eyes staring out from what used to be his friend’s face on the ground in front of him. He remembered someone grabbing the scruff of his jacket, pulling him backwards.

And then, nothing but darkness.

Grimacing, he pulled himself back to the present and purposely slowed his breathing. The flashbacks didn't happen often any more. The cognitive behavioural therapy he’d gone through after his treatment kept them at bay. But when they did happen, they knocked him for six. Conscious of the fact he was on the floor and grinding his teeth, he looked up to see the shocked face of the cleaner, her ID badge stark against her tunic, showing the name Clarice.

‘Oh my God. I’m so sorry. Sir, are you OK? Let me help you up.’

He swiped her hand away. ‘I can manage.’

Adjusting his weight, he pulled himself to his feet, leaning heavily on his stick as he stood straight. His leg was already aching like a bitch. Later it would stiffen and he would have to work to get it looser again. Any slight slip caused him to go backwards in his recovery. He would have to phone his physiotherapist and get booked in for a couple of sessions. It was always the same.

Groaning inwardly, he focused on being in the here and now, and not the there and then. Glancing at Clarice again, he noticed the sorrow on her face. Her brown eyes shone brightly, standing out from her dark skin and styled black hair. He pegged her as about twenty years old, but wasn’t quite sure. For a moment, he actually thought she might cry. To her mind she had just knocked over a disabled man who had then snapped at her. Feeling like a complete heel, he knew he had to say something.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. As you can see, I’m fine.’

She nodded. ‘I’m sorry for knocking you over. I thought the hall was empty and ready to be cleaned. I shouldn’t have barrelled through like that.’

‘Empty? It’s the 29
^th
, isn’t it? I have the hall booked for my lectures until the summer break. Though as you can see, nobody has turned up.’

‘It’s the 28
^th
,’ she said quietly.

She looks like she thinks I’m going to phase out again.

Jacob tried to reassure her that he wouldn’t. ‘The 28
^th
? I got my days wrong then.’ He made his way through the open door, then glanced back with a wide smile, ‘Thanks, Clarice. Sorry again for the bad reaction. Don’t work too hard.’

Clarice felt her face grow warm as she took in the transformation. When he was on the floor, his face had contorted, looking stern and clouded with the storm battling inside his mind. But when he smiled - wow. She almost felt the need to put her hand to her throat to still the pounding in her heart. Wait until she told Gill about this guy – it would be worth signing up to his classes just to ogle him every week.

As the door closed behind him, Clarice smiled back. Maybe this cleaning job wouldn’t be too bad after all. She made her way down to the podium with her vacuum cleaner and plugged it in. She was about to switch it on when she noticed the pile of paperwork on the desk.

‘Digital forensics? He teaches digital forensics. I should’ve known – he looked like an IT geek,’ she muttered to herself. Normally the cleaners were told not to move papers left behind in the lecture halls, but she knew there were classes in there tomorrow morning: she was one of the students on the Business Development course starting at 9 a.m. Her tutor was a stalwart, old-school lecturer who had a habit of dumping anything left behind by other people into the bin so that it wasn’t in his way. Deciding it would be a help not a hindrance on this occasion, she gathered up the papers and placed them neatly inside the small cupboard at the base of the podium.
I’ll just pop in tomorrow when my five o’clock lecture finishes.

Jacob had made his way out to his car, and once inside he sat for a moment, his head resting on the steering wheel. It had been months since his last flashback. He had thought he might finally be getting past it all, hoped he would one day be back to normal.

His leg would never heal properly, the shrapnel from the blast had caused so much damage that he’d needed several bouts of surgery, extensive physiotherapy, and the threat of life in a wheelchair to push him to the point he was at now.

There was a time the doctors had told him he would never walk again. But he had refused to give up, and his sister, TJ, had supported him. He smiled as he thought about her. She'd been devastated when he came home from the hospital, and he had become her personal mission. She hadn't left him alone for more than a day, pushing him constantly, reiterating that his life wasn't over even when the military had discharged him. When he had started the CBT, she had rapidly become one of his tools for dealing with the flashbacks.

Feeling a sudden need to hear her voice, he pulled his mobile from his pocket and hit speed dial number one. Her voice filled his head as the call diverted to voicemail and waiting for the beep, he left his message. ‘Sis, it's me. Hit me back when you get a sec.’

His blood pressure now returning to manageable levels, he started the car and headed for home.

28th May, 2310 hours – Tunstall, Sunderland City Centre

Rewinding, he zoomed in on the screen. She was undressing, readying herself for bed. Her plain white underwear was stark against her contrasting skin. Almost as if she knew he was watching, she slowly undid her bra. He grew hard, using his hand to adjust himself. She was teasing him; it couldn't be anything else.

As she bent to remove her pants, he pulled himself free of the constraints of his clothing.

His hand working hard, he suddenly realised with the utmost clarity that she was the one. She had been put there in that room just for him. He would start making plans to have her. It was easier now than it had been when he first started, all those years ago. Technology made selection so much faster.

A frown marred his face momentarily: it used to be that there was a reason for choosing; now it seemed that the more time passed, the more he would settle for any small sign. Like her teasing him.

Clearing his mind, he focused on her image and continued. When the orgasm came it wasn't as powerful as he wanted it to be.

But it would be. When he had her it would finally be like the first time all over again.

He tucked himself back away, and checked his watch.

It was time to do some reconnaissance.

Chapter Three

29th May, 1730 hours - Sunderland University Campus

Ben was nervous. It wasn't a feeling she was accustomed to, but the thought of starting a university course with a bunch of people she didn't know and probably out-aged by a gazillion years was daunting.

At this stage she didn't even know if she was doing the right thing. The only thing she knew of digital forensics was what she had learned in her forensic training course, and she wasn't that great with technology as a whole. What had possessed her to opt for this particular course when the funding opportunity came up at work she would never know.

But here she was.

She had arrived at the lecture hall exceptionally early, not wanting to be the last one in, the one everyone turned to look at as she walked down the aisle. She didn't really want to be the first one in either, but Aoife always said that to grow as a person you had to learn to bite the bullet and crack on with whatever life threw at you. So Ben gave herself a shake, and pushed open the door to the hall. Feigning confidence, she strode towards the front row. She was halfway down the stairs when she heard someone curse behind her.

A man.

She hadn't heard anyone else come in; didn't know if he had been there already or had followed her in.

Ben tried to swallow, her mouth dry and her tongue suddenly feeling too big for her mouth. She felt fear claw at her insides like a cat caught in a trap, trying to climb out. She paused, counting slowly in her head, picturing Grace's face in her mind. It calmed her breathing and finally she felt herself release the breath she was holding.

‘Excuse me, I need to get past,’ came the chocolaty-smooth voice from behind her. Slowly, she turned to look at the person speaking.

Jacob was a sight to behold, especially when he stood two steps higher: he was already tall, and his broad shoulders and muscled arms were only emphasised by the semi-fitted woollen jumper. His fair hair had that tousled, just-got-out-of-bed look that people paid a fortune in salons to get; but Ben was pretty sure he literally had just got out of bed.

She found herself staring, wondering who he was. Jacob watched in amusement as her gaze didn't falter.

Jacob was used to this effect - it happened regularly. TJ actually called it the ‘Tulley Effect’.

They all had the same reaction until they saw the stick and his limp. Then they all backed off, none of them wanting a cripple for a date or whatever. It had got to the stage now where he waited for the expression to change. Their eyes would widen and their faces would take on the expression of mild horror. He tried to just brush it off. So he wasn't attractive any more, it wasn't the end of the world.

Only it was, really. He was lonely. He wanted what other people had. But he knew he’d never get it. How would he ever be sure the woman loved him for him, and not out of sympathy for his injuries?

Every time he saw ‘the look’, he felt a little more of him die inside, a little more of his wall get built up. Blocking people out was easier than letting them in. It hurt to let them in.

For once, though, he didn't want to see this woman’s expression change. He stared back for a moment, taking in the red curls tied back in a loose pony tail, and the faint freckles covering her nose. She was dressed like most students in a fitted T-shirt and jeans, functional jacket unzipped. Definitely nothing special about her clothing, but there was something special about her.

Her green eyes held a hint of vulnerability, and for a second he felt like he had been punched in the gut. He felt his breath leave his lungs with a slow whoosh, and, realising he was the one staring now, he broke eye contact.

Leaning hard on his stick, he bypassed her and made his way to the podium. He felt sadness as he limped down the last few steps, and for a moment he wanted to turn around and see if her face had changed. But he didn’t.