I've Been Watching You: a stunning crime thriller from The North East Police Series (6 page)

She couldn't tell anyone. Wouldn't have even if she could. She knew her place.

Chapter Five

1st June, 1910 hours - Police Gymnasium, Sunderland HQ

Jacob grimaced as he kept a steady pace on the treadmill. His hands kept him steady on the handles and finally, he felt himself falter as the throbbing in his leg increased.

He turned the machine off, gingerly stepping down and testing the strength as he reached for his stick. His leg was burning; the fall had definitely set him back. It had been six months since his last surgery, when the surgeon had advised him that this was ‘as good as it would get.’ The four hour operation had tightened the muscles around the tissue and tendon damage, ultimately giving him more support. But he still needed the stick, always would.

His back had healed, the shrapnel left behind melding to muscle and becoming part of him.

But not his leg.

He remembered TJ at his side at the hospital, holding his arm as he struggled out of the wheelchair for the first time after being flown back from Afghanistan. She’d been by his side, supporting his weight as he had walked the required number of steps before collapsing at the end.

The first surgery had helped give him back the ability to bend and straighten his leg, though at that point they figured the chair was a permanent addition to his life. The second was designed to strengthen his tendons but he had overdone the physiotherapy, over stretching as his body tried its best to heal. Dogged determination had seen him through the next two surgeries. 

Jacob paused by the full length mirror, normally used by people sparring or completing their self-defence and take down courses. The gym was empty apart from him. Everyone else either progressing onto their shift or home after.

Slowly, he lowered the waist of his track suit bottoms, past his shorts to his knees and turned, the back of his leg now visible over his shoulder. His mouth straightened as he took in the first long ragged scar. It was ugly, winding up his leg like a snake. Some of his muscle mass had been removed, either by the original shrapnel shards or by the subsequent surgeries, leaving his leg deformed and looking more like the twisted trunk of a tree. Secondary and tertiary scarring marred the surrounding areas and for a moment he almost felt sick.

It was so much a part of him that he rarely looked at it any more, hating it with all his heart. It wasn't a war wound. It wasn't a survivor wound. It was only proof that he had survived when half of his team hadn't.

Proof he’d led them into a situation that had ended with three of them dying.

Proof that he shouldn’t be alive today.

The medal they had given him on his return sat at the bottom of a drawer hidden in the dark. He was no damn hero. He didn't deserve any medals.

What he did deserve though was the pain. It forced him to remember. Not a day passed when he didn't feel guilty for being there. TJ had helped turn that guilt into something else. Though even she knew it was still there, lingering beneath the surface. She had pushed him into digital forensics, knowing that whilst his hands were suited to war, his brain was suited to a more technical path.

And he’d done a lot of good, he knew that. Through examining computers, laptops and phones, he’d been responsible for bringing down murderers and paedophiles alike, but knowing it just helped stop the guilt from taking over. It didn’t make it go away.

He sighed as he pulled the waistband back up. It was how it was.

He didn't have to like it. But he was damn sure he would learn to accept it.

One day.

Focussing on his own eyes in the mirror, he slowed his breathing, seeing past his exterior like the therapist had taught him to. He allowed himself to see his vulnerability, his humanity.

It was OK to feel guilty. It was OK to still hurt. It was normal to feel the things he was feeling.

Calmer now, he pulled his phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial.

‘Hey sis, it's me. Long day - you wanna meet for Mexican? My treat?’

1
^st
June, 2000 hours – Desperado’s Restaurant, Sunderland City Centre

‘So what’s been so tough about today?’ TJ asked, reaching for nacho’s just placed down by the waitress.

‘I dunno. I’m probably just over analysing things.’

Jacob’s eyes were troubled as he looked over at his sister.

Identical eyes met his gaze, grey with small flecks of green. They both had their mum’s eyes, and stood out because of them. TJ was younger than him, only by a couple of years, but still. She’d always been the responsible one though. When their parents had been killed, several years before he had joined the army, TJ had stepped up. Only sixteen at the time, she had managed to fit cleaning house, and cooking tea into her daily routine around college. He had kept the garden tidy, and done all the DIY. They had pulled each other through the grief.

He still remembered how hurt she’d appeared to be when he left to enlist. Their parents had died and he had chosen to leave her, opting to defend his country rather than look after his sister. She had only been eighteen. But as hurt as she’d felt, she’d never once blamed him, understanding he needed to deal with things himself. TJ had wrapped herself up in college, getting her degree and then her masters. She had been working on her PhD for the last couple of years.

‘You do have a habit of doing that, bro. What’s happened since your flash the other day?’

Jacob felt himself blush as the image of a freckled red-head popped into his mind. He thought he had gotten away with it, but TJ was too adept at noticing his subtle changes.

‘You met someone? Who? Where?’

‘I didn’t, not exactly anyway.’ He knew he had to continue. ‘She’s a student.’

TJ’s eyes widened, ‘Aren’t there rules against fraternising with students?’

Jacob coughed into his coke, ‘I’m not fraternising. She is a student, a mature student if you must know. I barely even spoke to her.’ Uncomfortable now under her scrutiny, he added, ‘Nothing happened. Nothing’s going to happen. Like she’d go near
here
anyway with this damn stick.’ His hand swept in a downward motion indicating to his legs, and his eyes had filled with just enough despair to make them darken.

‘Bro, how many times do I need to tell you that the right woman won’t see your stick? Or your scars? I get that you hate your stick, I really do, but you need it. You’ll always need it. If that’s all people see then they’re not worth having in your life.’

Jacob frowned. He knew what she said made sense, but he struggled to accept it as truth. Nobody had ever
not
seen his stick since he’d started walking again. Why should she be any different?

He knew TJ understood him more than anyone else, but even she had told him to his face that he was as pig-headed as they came.

TJ knew he hammered his frustrations out at the gym. He always had. And now he was wasting time trying to rebuild muscles that couldn’t be rebuilt. Suddenly she decided she would quite like to meet the person who had grabbed her brothers attention, student or not. His next class was scheduled for 5
^th
June. Sometimes her brother needed a nudge in the right direction, and it usually fell to her to give him it. She needed to meet the girl who had Jacob all a-fluster, and make sure she wasn’t going to break his heart.

But, Jacob didn’t need to know she would attend the Uni.

She gave him an innocent grin, changing the subject and asking how his class had gone.

2nd June, 0915 hours – Tunstall, Sunderland City Centre

He’d watched as she had gotten dressed that morning: her dark brown skin glistening with the remaining dampness from her shower. He had seen the older woman enter the room, handing Clarice a large pile of clothing.

He had felt a shiver pass down his spine as she had bent over, putting the clothes away in the bottom drawer.

He could almost taste her - he would taste her.

Years before he had surprised his victims, jumping out on them, or using the old 'man off the bike trick'. Now he knew it was easier to get to know them a little first. Not much, not enough so they would tell people about him at any rate. But enough so they felt comfortable. It made the rush even better - the moment when they realised he wasn't the nice guy they thought he was. To be fair he had never actually been a nice guy. That was a fallacy, all part of the elaborate person that was him. There was no one else like him, he knew that.

He could tell just looking at her that she would be the type to please.

His background checks had been fruitful - she had a history of drug use. With that history she no doubt had a reputation for sleeping around. For a millisecond he wondered if he had made the right choice, there was a chance she was damaged goods. That someone else had gotten there first. And that was something he couldn't entertain. He needed the rush, the fear as he forced them to do his bidding.

Frowning, he acknowledged that it was harder now to get that feeling. The first three women had been but fumbles in the dark, but number four, now she had been special. He had left his mark. Made her beg right up to the end. No one had compared to her, not yet anyway. He was pretty sure Clarice would though.

He pushed the niggle of doubt aside - he would soon put her in her place. He’d watched her for days now - knew she would take some training. She’d be defiant at first, angry even. But she would learn.

They all learned in the end.

Smiling he picked up his books and put them into his newly purchased backpack. He smoothed his now blond locks into a geeky style, the temporary hair dye making him look years younger. Using the mirror in the hall, he applied the clear lens nerd glasses over his blue eyes, perching them on his nose. The false goatee, and modern clothing finished off the look and he was satisfied. He would blend in with the rest of the geeky business study students.

He didn't stand out - even the lecturer would be unlikely to remember him if pressed.

Inserting himself onto the class register had been easy, obtaining a valid student number a little more difficult but definitely not rocket science. To all intents and purposes, his new identity, Gareth Chamberlain, was an average student who had been sick for the first few weeks of term due to an episode of 'mumps'. He had created false student reports using his own coded software, and had 'submitted' his assignments online for the period, altering the dates to make them appear as if they were submitted on time but had been lost in the system. Being technological was a blessing when it came to creating a new life.

He’d done it all over the UK, often claiming benefits whilst working, with transactions that were virtually untraceable, in most cases not even noticed. He had several identities to work with – all of them meticulously realistic, like the one he used now. He had so many in fact, that even he occasionally forgot who he really was. He worked when he wanted to, confident that skimming off the government would always top him up.

Clarice would remember him though, at least for the short time she would live. None of the others had survived - he supposed it was all down to strength. After he put them in their place, it was up to them to be strong enough to want to live. Plainly none of the others had wanted to.

He heard the beep outside - his taxi was here.

It was time for school.

2nd June, 1105 hours - CSI Department, Sunderland City Centre Depot

Ben had reworded the statement for the assault case four times so far. Deciding to take a break she popped the kettle on and made her way next door.

‘Kev, I'm struggling with the statement for the assault outside Retox from a few weeks ago. Have you got a template of some kind you could maybe email me? The scene ended up being spread and I'm having trouble putting it into words without elaborating. I've only really had photo statements up until now.’

‘I'll come give you a hand. It was the stabbing right? You consulted with Jason if memory serves?’

‘Yeah that's the one. The images are loaded up if you wanna review. It ended up being three areas around the nightclub. There wasn't a whole lot of evidence like. It's more the logistics of what I did process wise.’

‘I read your notes for that one - was gonna mention it in your PDR meeting next week. Considering that was one of the first major scenes you processed solo, you did an excellent job. Your photos were good quality too - you've been practising with the tripod and night-time shots and it shows. Use your notes to write the statement. Start at the first area, write what you did, the processes you used and what you recovered, then move onto the second bit. I'll have a read before you send it to the CPS.’

Ben felt her cheeks flush. She had never taken praise well, but was pleased her hard work had been noticed.

‘How's the digital course going? You've got Tulley as your lecturer right?’

‘Yeah. Seems great so far, think I'm going to find it tough going, like. I've already got six books at home to read. Popped to the library on my way in this morning. You know Jacob?’

‘So do you, indirectly at least. He works in the forensics lab at the HQ building.’

‘He works for the force? That's why his name sounded familiar.’

‘I'm sure he will be able to offer you additional help when he realises. If you want, I can arrange an attachment for you. You could spend a day or two up at the lab, see it first hand? Might help some of the technical terminology sink in a little?’

‘Would you mind? That'd be great thank you.’

They both looked up as Alex and Ali burst in through the door. Alex looked so much like his brother Ali that they could have been twins. Both had serious grey eyes, both had dark hair with a scattering of silver showing at the temples. Ali was a little taller and broader but no one could have mistaken them for anything but brothers.