I've Been Watching You: a stunning crime thriller from The North East Police Series (30 page)

‘There isn’t another explanation, Kev. Obviously Whitworth didn’t kill Clarice - he was already dead at the time of the murder. The samples are stored in the same freezer downstairs in the hold. The only explanation is that they were mixed up!’

‘Ali, my staff aren’t stupid. They deal with this stuff all the time. If you truly believe the samples were mixed up, then let me take you downstairs and show you the swabs taken from Whitworth when he was booked through custody. If this isn’t another bloody obvious reason why cops should store their own samples, I don’t know what is.’ Kevin walked out of his office and strode purposefully down the stairs.

He’d been campaigning for years to have the freezers in the hold solely for the use of the CSIs and not the cops. The CSIs monitored it and booked the samples in and out, but it created extra work and took time. He’d gone right up the chain to the Chief who now had it under advisement. The sooner the better as far as he was concerned.

They reached the hold and Kevin unlocked the door with the keys only the CSIs had. Keeping the keys in-house helped prevent issues arising with people not knowing the procedure. Inside the hold were numerous freezers, all labelled with a month. The samples were held either until needed or for the period of one year when they were moved to the central store at HQ. He pulled out the file and checked the entry log.

Going to the freezer for this year, he pulled open the door, opened the drawer labelled June, and pulled a large box from shelf two. It took him a minute to go through the samples but he found what he was looking for. With a triumphant smile, he waved the sample at Ali.

‘This is the sample taken by custody when Whitworth was arrested. All swabs are present and correct, and labelled appropriately. The sample sent to the lab was definitely taken from Clarice’s cheek.’

Silence reined as he placed the swabs back in the box, and put the box back on the shelf. Closing the door he turned to face Ali, his head cocked to one side thoughtfully.

‘Have you checked Whitworth’s family history, Ali?’

Ali nodded his head slowly, ‘Of course. He grew up in foster care, pushed from pillar to post. Married his wife Eve in his late twenties, and they had their son Matthew a few years later. Why?’

‘Is it possible he could have an identical twin? Identical twins have the same DNA sequence. It’s the only other explanation I can think of to explain how the same DNA could have been found.’

‘A twin? I suppose that could be possible, though surely both kids would have ended up in foster care? I need to go have this looked into properly. I’ll speak to you later, Kev. Oh, and I’m sorry for sounding so bull-headed. It bugs me when stuff like this happens, but I shouldn’t have been throwing it around accusing your staff. Thanks for helping clear it up.’

Ali left the hold and headed back up the stairs to the MIT office. He had research to do.

17
^th
June, 1845 hours –Tunstall, Sunderland City Centre

Stan watched as Ben filled the screen in front of him. She’d just gotten out of the shower and was drying herself with an oversized peach towel. Her daughter was sitting on the bed chatting as she played with a teddy. The child’s hair was damp, and she was dressed in her pyjamas. He assumed she had just gotten out of the bath before Ben had jumped in.

Maybe he wouldn’t kill the child. He could take her with him, raise her and train her to be the subservient woman he knew he deserved. She was young yet, but she could learn.

He felt his tongue dip out and moisten his lips with a quick swipe as Ben undid the towel and moved it side to side across her back. When the towel fell to the floor it was like a bolt of lightning shot through him. He was instantly hard, painfully so in fact. Ben was stood with her back facing the camera. He knew if she’d been facing him, showing him
his
marks on her breasts, then he would’ve lost all control.

She leant across the bed and grabbed her pyjamas off the pillow. Within seconds her ivory skin was hidden behind the folds of the thin cotton night clothes. He sighed to himself. Next time. Next time, he would get to see his handiwork again. From the bug he’d planted in the living room, he heard the older woman call the two down, listened as she said she’d made cocoa with marshmallows. His mother had never made him cocoa with marshmallows. He didn’t even remember ever having drunk it.

Suddenly a male voice sounded through the speaker, pulling his attention back to the present.

‘Sorry if I’m intruding, I just wanted to check on Ben.’

‘That’s fine, Jacob. I’ve just made cocoa. I’ll go pour you a cup. Ben and Grace will be down soon.’

He felt anger burn deep inside his stomach.
Who the fuck is that? There was no man living there! I checked, damn it!
He sat up straighter, and pulled his chair closer to the speaker system. He wouldn’t miss a word of this conversation.

17
^th
June, 1855 hours – O’Byrne residence, Sunderland

‘Come on, pumpkin. Head into the living room to see Aunty Aoife. I heard her say she might have made cocoa.’ Ben’s voice was playful out in the hall as she pushed open the living room door. Not expecting to see Jacob, she jumped when she noticed him.

‘Jacob, erm hi.’ She tugged at the vest top she had on self-consciously.
Damn I knew I should’ve put a dressing gown on. He must think I’m some kind of freak. In my PJs before 7 p.m.

He hid a grin, blatantly watching as she tugged at her top. ‘Just wanted to check you were OK. Deena said you were back to work today.’ At Ben’s puzzled look, he added, ‘I was at Clarice’s house with her, dismantling the computer. She mentioned it. It's a shame, I knew the kid from college. Briefly anyway. She seemed nice.'

Ben nodded silently, suddenly remembered the comments Deena had made when she came back in the office. Ben had presumed she had been talking about a cop when she’d mentioned there had been a good view at the house. For a millisecond she burned with jealousy that someone else was looking at Jacob, and then realised how ridiculous she was being. She sat in the arm-chair in the corner, curled her legs up underneath her and reached for the cushion, hugging it to her chest. Grace on the other hand, was not quite so reserved. She clambered up on the couch beside Jacob, and happily threw her arms around his neck, pulling herself into him.

‘Have you come to read me a story?’

Jacob grinned, and tapped her on the nose with his finger. ‘That depends on whether mummy says you’ve been a good girl. If you have been a good girl, maybe mummy will also let me give you the pressie I have in my pocket.’

‘You got me a present? Mummy, I have been a good girl haven’t I? Can I please have my present?’ Grace clambered off the couch and stood in front of Jacob, looking at Ben with hope.

She couldn’t have said no if she’d tried, and nodded. ‘You’ve been very good. Tell Jacob about the award you got at school today, and then he can give you the present.’

‘I got an ‘ward for reading. I stood up in class and read a whole story all by myself. Aunty Aoife and mummy helped me learn the big words.’

‘Wow, that’s fantastic. Well done, sweetpea. I suppose I’ll have to give you your present then. Here you go.’

Jacob reached behind his back and pulled out an elephant soft toy. ‘Elephants never forget anything. You can tell your elephant anything and he’ll always remember what you said.’

Grace took hold of the toy gently, smiling at Jacob widely. ‘Thank you. Do you want to pick a name for him?’

Jacob didn’t have time to consider the vice-like feeling round his heart. The feeling that any walls he had built up were coming tumbling down with a few sentences from the innocent mouth of a child. He swallowed the lump in his throat and answered, ‘How about Ernest?’

A flash of pain passed through his eyes, but Grace didn’t notice. She nodded happily, ‘I’m gonna go show Aunty Aoife my new el’phant.’ She whirled away from Jacob and out into the hall, shouting at the top of her lungs.

Ben had noticed the pain though, the same as she picked up on his contemplative silence. ‘Who was Ernest?’

Taking a breath, Jacob replied. ‘Ernest was actually a lad in my old regiment. His real name was Stephen Watson. He got the nickname from constantly having his head in a book. His favourite was
A Farewell to Arms
.’

‘By Ernest Hemingway,’ interrupted Ben with a grin.

‘Yeah. He loved the classics, Hemingway, Verne and all the rest. He must’ve spent half his wages every month on buying books. Ernest just kinda stuck.’

‘What happened?’

‘He was with my team when the IED went off. He didn’t make it.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Ben simply. When the silence stretched, she added, ‘Thanks for getting Grace the elephant. She loves cuddly toys.’

‘I guessed. When I took her up the other night I noticed them all around her room. I saw the elephant today and thought she would like it.’

The door pushed open and Grace leaned against it, keeping it open while Aoife entered with a tray of steaming mugs of chocolate with pink and white marshmallows melting on the top.

17
^th
June, 2310 hours – Tunstall, Sunderland City Centre

‘Jacob.’

Stan almost spat the word from his mouth. Who the hell did he think he was, coming in and staking a claim on
his
woman. Sitting there in the living room, flirting and chatting as if Stan didn’t even exist.

Plainly the lessons he had taught Bree hadn’t worked. She was definitely in need of further tutoring.

But first, though, he would find out more about this Jacob, and take care of business. A man took care of his own problems. Another snippet of truth from his pain-in-the-arse father.

He wished he’d placed a camera in the living room now, wanted to be able to see them sitting closely next to each other on the couch, canoodling as they chatted. He wanted to see them so he could then swipe them both from the face of the earth. He’d kill Jacob first, making Bree watch. Then he’d kill her slowly, telling her over and over that her daughter would be his next student.

Bree would die knowing he had Grace, and that he was raising her to be a proper young lady.

The anger was so strong; it felt like the worst case of acid indigestion ever, burning his insides and creating a red hue around his field of vision.
Damn it, I need to see them together. Who the hell does he think he is? She’s mine!

Grabbing his coat, he headed for the door.

17
^th
June, 2335 hours – O’Byrne residence, Sunderland

Jacob didn’t want to leave. But it was late and he’d been watching Ben struggle not to fall asleep for the last twenty minutes, her eyes closing slowly then opening as she fought to stay awake. She’d moved over to the couch when Aoife had taken Grace up to bed, not wanting Jacob to feel like he was sitting ten miles from her. It had been uncomfortable at first, for both of them. Neither was used to having someone else in close proximity. As the movie progressed though the tension had eased, and now Ben’s head rested on his shoulder as the film came to a close. Jacob’s arm curled around her waist, his fingers resting lightly on the curve of her hip.

He heard her sigh softly against his shoulder, and snuggle in a millimetre more. Breathing in he smelled the scent of her shampoo, apples with a hint of mint. It smelled clean, fresh, and he inhaled again, aware that if she was awake she might think he was some kind of freak. He really didn’t want to move.

Would it be so bad to stay?

He argued with himself, torn between leaving, which would wake her up, and staying still, which is what his heart wanted to do.

Ben’s hand dropped from his arm to the top of his leg, and he was lost. Gently he manoeuvred them both so that he could lift his feet on to the footstool at the edge of the sofa, pulled the tattered blanket off the back of the couch and placed it around Ben’s shoulders, and rested his head on the pillow. Tomorrow, he could argue with his head, tonight his heart had won.

He would stay.

Within seconds, his eyes closed of their own accord and he fell into a deep sleep.

18
^th
June, 0005 hours – O’Byrne residence, Sunderland

Stan stood outside the window looking in. They hadn’t even had the decency to close the curtains, laying there together for the world to see. Well OK, not exactly the world. It was a detached house after all with large fencing surrounding it. But it was the principle. She was
his,
and Jacob had no right trying to stake a claim.

He stood watching them sleep for some time, so long that his feet actually went a little numb from standing. The weather had been fair when he had arrived, but as time progressed clouds rolled in covering the faint light from the stars, and he felt the first droplets start to fall.

It was time to leave.

Not caring if anyone saw now, he strode back round to the front of the house, and paused as he saw the cars on the driveway. He didn’t know whose was whose, and frankly he didn’t care. He pulled the knife from his pocket and pressed the button, ejecting the sharpened blade, and methodically sliced into all four tyres on each car.
See how you both like that. You’ll both learn.

Walking round the cars had shown him which was Ben’s: it was the one with the child’s seat in the back. Deciding to make his point even more obvious, he etched the words 'I've been watching you’ into the bonnet. He needed to remind her of her lessons, show her that he was disappointed she hadn’t learned.

Appeased now, if only momentarily, he left the driveway, got back into his car, and drove off.