I've Been Watching You: a stunning crime thriller from The North East Police Series (4 page)

Ben followed him down the steps, first with her eyes then physically. Pulling into the front row she sat, her brow knitting together in a frown.
What the hell was that about?
For just a minute, he’d held her gaze. And she’d felt like she had seen into his soul, and he into hers.

In the echoing silence of the lecture hall, they both jumped as the door opened suddenly. The stairs vibrated with footsteps, and she felt the breeze as the young black girl rushed down.

‘I'm sorry, sir. I had to move your papers last night; the lecturer in this morning would have binned them. They're just in the cupboard, though,’ she explained, her cheeks reddening as Jacob glanced up at her.

‘Thanks, Clarice, that was thoughtful.’

Ben had to grin: the poor girl was virtually swooning at his feet. She wondered if he knew he had that effect on her, and concentrated on him. If anything, he looked uncomfortable.

So he does know. And he doesn't like the attention.

Clarice made her way back out of the hall as the other students started filtering in. Ben heard the gasps of the few girls registered on the course, and the groans of the guys as they sat in the rows behind her. It was going to be interesting, watching how Jacob took to the attention. If there was one thing she had learned to do well, it was read people. She watched as Jacob’s eyes shuttered. He looked uncomfortable and she wondered why he chose to lecture, and why he didn’t handle the attention well when it was obviously something that happened regularly.

Maybe he’s got a jealous wife at home or something.

No, it wasn’t that. She hadn’t noticed a ring when talking to him on the steps and her eyes had a habit of automatically checking. So that meant he must be one of those guys who genuinely didn’t believe he was attractive.

But how can he not know he looks like some kind of model from a catalogue?

There was more to Jacob Tulley than met the eye. Maybe she should find out what it was. But no: as much as she liked understanding people, and what made them tick, getting to know Jacob would mean him getting to know her. He would find out about her past. Her breath held in her lungs in panic.

She couldn’t do it.

She couldn’t face the disgust that would cover his face when he found out, if he saw the scars covering her body. Talking herself out of getting to know him was easy. She’d done it so many times over the years, she’d lost count.

It’s best if I just leave him to it. It’s really none of my business anyway.

A wave of sadness washed over her. Even after all these years, despite her best efforts at moving on, the man who’d attacked her still had a hold over her. And no matter how much therapy she went through, she knew he would always be lurking there in the back of her mind.

Lurking yes, but not controlling. I control who I am, what I do. And I am strong enough to do that alone.

Satisfied with the mantra taught to her by her counsellor, she returned her focus to the lesson.

29th May, 2135 hours - O’Byrne residence, Sunderland

Aoife looked up from her newspaper, as Ben entered the kitchen. She looked her niece up and down for a moment. She’d decided earlier that for now, everything would be as it was before her appointment. She would tell Ben; just not yet.

She couldn’t. It just felt too raw.

Opting for normality, she said, ‘You met someone tonight. A man. I can see it in your eyes.’

Smiling, Ben shook her head. Wandering over she planted an affectionate kiss on the top of her aunt’s head. ‘You're incorrigible, Aoife. You say that every time I come in. Maybe one day it will be true.’

Aoife glanced at her sharply; there was something different in Ben’s tone tonight. It wasn’t as light as it normally was when she asked that question: a standing joke between the two. 

Ben opened the fridge and peered inside, ‘Did you happen to make me some tea? I'm Hank Marvin.’

‘You'll not find it in there. Try the oven; it's already warm for you. How was the lecture?’

‘Mmm, chicken and mash, my favourite.’ Ben sniffed in appreciation, plucking a forkful and placing it into her mouth as she hunted the cupboard for the salt. Her mouth full, she answered Aoife. ‘Lecture was good, ice-breaker and intro. It's gonna be an interesting course. Just hope I can keep up OK. I'm gonna have to go to the library tomorrow – Jacob’s given us a reading list as long as my arm and I can't afford them all.’

‘Jacob?’ asked Aoife shrewdly, her eyes honing in on the faint flush spreading across Ben's cheeks as she spoke his name.

Well, well. Who'd have thunk it. I don't think I've ever seen her blush over a boy before.

Resolving not to push, Aoife filed the information in the back of her mind, giving Ben a quick, innocent grin.

‘The lecturer,’ replied Ben, rolling her eyes. ‘Grace go down OK?’

The change in subject wasn't smooth but Aoife chose to ignore it, nodding instead. ‘Doesn't she always? She still needs her goodnight kiss, though.’

Aoife watched in satisfaction as her niece ate, then when she’d finished, Ben kissed her aunt again. ‘Loves you,’ she whispered against her hair.

‘Loves you too, sweetheart. Sweet dreams.’

Aoife felt her heart swell to twice its size.

She’d looked after Ben ever since her parents had died in a car accident when she was ten. She had held her as she cried into the night, and had been there for every event since. She watched Ben leave the kitchen, and felt her face turn downwards. This was the first time in eight years Aoife had seen light in Ben’s eyes. The spark of attraction. It worried her. Was Ben really ready to move on? In her shoes, Aoife wasn't sure she would be ready. Some days she wondered how Ben managed at all, how she was strong enough. Having Grace made it easier, she knew; but still. She sighed: part of being a parent was letting one’s children find their own way. It didn't matter that Ben wasn’t actually her daughter: she was the daughter of her heart and that was what counted.

Knowing Ben would be listening from Grace’s room, she wandered through the downstairs, checking the windows and doors were all locked. It was the same routine every night. Ben knew Aoife did it, and Aoife knew Ben had to recheck it all herself half an hour later. It helped put her mind at ease.

Aoife wandered up to her room and settled into the large bed, the patchwork quilt visible with the glow of the street lights outside. She switched on the antique lamp on the table beside her, picked up her book and opened it. Frowning as the words swam before her eyes, she put it back down. Tonight wasn't a night for reading. She needed to think.

Clicking the lamp off, she tugged the quilt tightly round her shoulders. In the darkness, she listened, and finally heard Ben padding down the stairs.

How was she supposed to tell her? She had always been a big believer in honesty. She had never lied to Ben about anything.

But this just felt too big. It would crush her.

Hell, it’s crushing me. How am I supposed to deal with this?

Feeling her eyes fill again, she fought the tears back. Crying never did anyone any good. Besides, if she started again she might never stop.

Aoife swallowed hard, the lump in her throat barely even letting any air past. The weight of the doctor’s diagnosis played on her mind, refusing to let her settle. She pulled herself into a sitting position and closed her eyes.

Placing her palms together, she touched her nose with her thumbs, and, for the first time in years, she prayed.

30th May, 0810 hours - Thompson residence, Sunderland

‘Clarice, are you actually going to school today? Get up, lazy pants, you're gonna be late.’

Gill Thompson pulled the duvet down off Clarice with a sharp tug.

‘What're you doing? Leave me alone, I'm sleepy,’ groaned Clarice, feeling for the duvet.

‘I don't need to remind you that you are at school at nine. The agreement with your mother is that you go to school. Now get up or I'll phone her and tell her you’re skiving just `cos you're tired. You need to be quick if you want a lift: I'm setting off in twenty minutes.’

Gill didn't mean it for a moment - they had the same routine every morning. She would never tell Bernie, Clarice’s mum, that she was skipping school, because Clarice never did.

She smiled down at her as Clarice finally squeezed her eyes open and grinned back. ‘Go away, Gill, I need to get ready.’ She threw a pillow as her friend made her way out of the room. She knew how lucky she was. Clarice had got into some trouble a couple of years before. The crowd she had been hanging around with encouraged her to take cocaine for the first time. The second and third times she hadn't needed as much encouragement, and soon she was hooked. She’d finally had her eyes opened when she stole money from her mum, the mum who had three other kids in the house and couldn't afford to even pay for a tin of beans to feed them with, thanks to Clarice. It had shocked her, scared the hell out of her, even, and she had promised to get clean.

Her mother, out of desperation, had contacted her friend Gill, who worked at an outreach place for troubled kids. There was nowhere else Bernie would have turned - and Gill, being Gill, had agreed to take Clarice in to live with her, helping her get clean and then letting her stay while she completed her uni course. Gill had helped her fill in the forms to get the cleaning job at the uni too, firmly believing that routine would help get her past the drug use and wild ways. And it was working, even if she did need a kick up the butt on a morning.

In fifteen minutes, Clarice was downstairs fully dressed with a light covering of make-up on her face. She grabbed the prepared toast off the plate in the kitchen and picked up her satchel before heading out of the door with Gill.

Pulling the car up in front of the uni, Gill said, ‘You OK to make your own way home tonight? I don't know what time I'll be done at the centre. There's a million and one things to do today, and new clients to prep for. You can meet me there tonight if you want, or you can pop straight home. There's chicken in the fridge for tea.’

‘I've got an essay to start researching - we were given it yesterday and I want to get started so I'm not rushing at the last minute. Gonna head to the library when I’m done with lectures. I'll text you this afternoon and let you know if that's OK?’

Gill nodded. ‘If you're still at the library when I'm finished, I'll pick you up.’

‘Gill,’ Clarice paused, suddenly looking a little emotional. ‘Thank you. I wouldn't be here doing all this if it wasn't for you. I just wanted you to know that I'm grateful. I know you didn't have to do any of it.’

‘You're welcome. Now get out of the car before you make me late,’ Gill’s blue eyes shone a little brighter as Clarice grinned back at her. She tried to hide her emotion but she knew that Clarice would have seen it.

Clarice had told her that she had made a pact when going through the counselling for her addiction, to always let her family know how precious they were. Clarice had kept that promise by telling Gill, and the rest of them, regularly. And every time, Gill choked with emotion.

Not a day went by when she wasn't thankful for how it had all turned out with Clarice. Gill knew how it could easily go in the opposite direction. She’d seen it so many times with kids who just walked the wrong path and then couldn’t get onto the right path no matter how much they tried. Sure, Clarice needed guidance at times; but she was a good kid, determined to make amends for her wrongs. Gill knew she sent her mum money every time she got her student loan payment. Clarice worked part-time to pay her way and manage, but all the spare cash went to her mum.

Being the oldest in a single-parent family was never easy; Gill had had that pleasure herself. But it was nice to see Clarice accepting some responsibility and wanting to take care of her mum and siblings. She grinned to herself as she sat in the car watching her friend’s daughter make her way into the lecture theatre.

Clarice had no idea that her mum had never touched the money, splitting it between all four of the children in savings accounts. One day they would all be informed, but it wasn't Gill’s job to tell Clarice. Even when Bernie had been skint, she’d always put money in those accounts, never touching it no matter how hard things got. She would go without tights, to make sure the kids were fed, and if she could only afford to put 50p in each account that week then that's what she did.

All the kids would be surprised when they were handed their account books, but it wouldn't be until they needed it. Bernie had always called it their rainy-day fund. Speaking of which, dark clouds had filled the sky, and the first drops were hitting Gill’s windscreen.

She gave a deep sigh; she hated the rain. It always made the kids in the Outreach centre misbehave – something to do with the confines of four walls no doubt.

Chapter Four

30th May, 0845 hours - Sunderland University campus

It hadn't taken him long to find out where she studied. Hacking the university systems was a virtual piece of cake for someone with his skills. He’d found out which degree she was studying for and which buildings her classes were held in, even had a copy of her class schedule.

Yes, she was perfect. It wasn’t the first time he had pursued a black woman, but she wasn’t his usual choice. There was just something about her curves, her innocent white underwear. The others had paled into comparison. Clarice Fielding was definitely the one.

He sat outside the campus building, watching as she jumped out of the car and wandered up the steps to the entrance. He really liked this part - the cameras were essential. They helped him build a profile of the woman that would become his. She was young, yes, but definitely womanly. He'd only seen breasts like hers on one of his victims. Smiling, he let himself remember - she had been the fourth. Her body lithe and graceful, but her large breasts most memorable. He hadn't been able to resist leaving his mark on them.