HE IS WATCHING YOU an Absolutely Gripping Crime Thriller With a Massive Twist

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? YOU CAN’T DO THAT!’

  ‘Sit down!’ Harry’s last word was delivered with such venom its impact was as if he had physically pushed Jeremy and he slumped backwards. He was indeed bare-chested. He had jeans on his lower half and no socks.

  ‘You can’t just burst in here like that — not without a warrant.’

  Harry stood silent at the foot of Jeremy’s bed — he was good at silence — and glared down at Jeremy. Jeremy’s eyes flicked from Harry to Maddie. She could tell he was uncertain, scared almost.

  ‘What the hell? Is anyone going to speak to me? Are you retarded or something?’

  ‘A woman is missing,’ Harry said. ‘A young woman. She was last seen at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting that we believe you organised. Were you there?’

  ‘Am I under arrest?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then I don’t have to tell you anything.’

  ‘Why would you not help us?’ Maddie said. ‘What does it matter to you? You know we’re just trying to find someone we’re worried about.’

  ‘I told you. We’re all about anonymous, that’s the idea. The clue’s in the name, yeah? I can’t help you — even if I did know the girl’s name and I don’t.’

  Harry spoke again, his voice even more gravelly. ‘So you don’t have the names of people that attend your meetings?’

  ‘No. Sometimes people send me emails with questions or call me up. They might sign off with a first name or tell me it — sometimes their full name. But I don’t care, that’s the thing. I’m not doing this for them. I don’t care who turns up, just that a few people do. I need them. The people that go, they need them too. What they don’t need is some copper turning up and asking about a really private part of their lives. Now, I’ve got nothing more to say, and if you’ve damaged that controller then you will need to pay for it, yeah? Criminal damage. Am I right?’

  ‘If I’ve damaged your controller consider that it might be the best thing that has happened to you.’

  ‘How the hell do you work that out?’

  ‘It might give you a rocket up your arse. You might get out there and do something worthwhile with your life, maybe even move out of your mother’s house.’

  ‘You’re a big man to come up in here and judge me. You don’t know anything about me.’

  ‘I know you’re forty-four years old and living with your mother. You’re unemployed and you’re playing war games with a bunch of teenagers at best. You’re a drinker, probably because you’re a loser with no prospects. It’s far easier to get drunk than to face up to this, isn’t it?’ Harry gestured at the room. ‘And open a window. It stinks in here.’

  ‘You can’t just come up here, throw my stuff around and call me a loser!’

  ‘I figure somebody should.’ Harry pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. He unfolded it to show the image of a young woman: Lorraine Humphries. It had been taken in happier times, her expression was warm.

  ‘Do you know her?’

  ‘I told you, I’m not speaking to you. You couldn’t even ask nice.’

  Harry used silence again. He took the time to look around the room and to inhale deeply. ‘No, I couldn’t. I was going to try, but I couldn’t. What I could do, however, is search this room. Pull it apart, top to bottom. I’ll get a whole team in here. Until I find your cannabis and probably something else. What are you into? A bit of amphet maybe?’

  ‘I don’t touch the stuff. I’m an addict, yeah. Recovering. I have an addictive personality, one bag of that shit and I would end up dead. Guaranteed. And you can’t search this place. You definitely need a warrant for that. I know my rights.’

  ‘I’m lawfully on the premises. Your mum invited me in. Now I’m here, I can smell the cannabis. It lingers for ages that stuff. Especially if you don’t open a window. So that’s reasonable suspicion of an offence. I can search where I want, how I want. Or you can answer a few questions and I might forget to look into it any further.’

  ‘You can just come in here and search, can you?’

  ‘If I’m invited in by the homeowner and then I discover offences. Like I said, Jeremy, you need to move out of your mother’s place.’

  ‘There’s no weed in here. I don’t touch it no more.’

  ‘You sure?’

  Jeremy stared right back at him. But he broke first. It was inevitable.

  ‘Jesus! I can’t be sure about nothing! I was in a real bad place, yeah? Fine, what’s the picture?’

  Harry held it out.

  ‘Yeah, she’s familiar. She’s been to a few.’

  ‘Recent?’

  ‘I think she was at the one last Friday. She’s been regular recently.’

  ‘Does she go with someone? When she turns up?’

  ‘I don’t know if she goes with him. I think they met there, maybe.’

  ‘Him? Who’s him?’ Harry said.

  ‘I don’t know, I told you that.’

  ‘Tell me about him.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about him. It’s not really a social thing.’

  ‘Is he white, black or . . .?’

  ‘White. Younger — like, thirty, maybe thirty-five, I dunno. Short hair — really short and stubble. Looks like he works out — bit of a gym body. He doesn’t look like the normal sort we get through the door, I remember thinking that.’

  ‘And they were together?’

  ‘They sat together most weeks — always recently. They were talking before it started and I think after.’

  ‘Is there any CCTV at this place?’

  ‘No! Definitely not. It’s a big reason why places like church halls are used. It’s a private place. It’s a private thing. It’s a group of strangers in a room who feel comfortable enough to talk about their deepest secrets to people who won’t judge. But they want to stay strangers at the end of it all.’

  ‘And are they always together?’

  ‘I don’t know! I don’t really take much notice. This ain’t fair, all this. He’s not been coming long. Not as long as her. Maybe a couple of months — twelve weeks at the most.’

  ‘You said people email or call. How did he get in touch?’

  ‘I said that some do, yeah, but most don’t. He didn’t. I stick out a time and a place and people turn up. Some people like to find out a bit before they do. It can be a bit intimidating, I suppose. These people are vulnerable. Most addicts have some sort of mental health problem at the core of it all, you know that right?’

  Maddie stepped forward. She made sure her tone was soft. ‘You’re being a great help, Jeremy. If that girl is in trouble and she knew we were here, she would want you to help. I’ve been to similar meetings, further up the country. People speak, right? They talk about themselves, about their lives?’

  ‘Some do, yeah, of course. Some just sit and listen.’

  ‘This girl and the man she was with, did they speak?’

  ‘She’s a regular. She’ll talk most weeks. The usual stuff . . . how hard it is . . . how the world wants her to drink . . . how she still craves the escape. I think she was doing better but I don’t know nothing that will help you I don’t think.’

  ‘And the fella. Did he talk?’

  ‘He talked about being an addict, about struggling with it like we all do, I guess. Nothing stands out, though. I remember he got really emotional one week, but that’s what it’s for. We all have.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘I dunno. About being an addict, about having no control over your own life. It’s hard, you know. None of us choose it. He didn’t . . . I didn’t — no matter how much of a loser your man here thinks I am.’

  ‘Sometimes the members have sponsors, right? Other members of the group that can be on the end of the phone for support. Do you know if either of them had a sponsor?’

  He seemed to look at her more closely. ‘Were you an addict, then? You said you’ve been to a meet?’

  ‘No such thing as was, right?’

  �
��Fair point. I don’t know about sponsors. Sometimes you do get to know who’s helping who. I’m supposed to have an idea but I don’t run it like that. I didn’t get that from them two anyway. It’s possible, I reckon, that they talked outside of the group.’

  ‘Did you notice them talking to anyone else?’

  ‘Not specifically, no. She was quite friendly. She would talk to people but it was general small-talk type stuff, I think. The usual stuff you get when you get a room full of nervous people.’

  Harry took back the questioning. ‘Was there anything that stood out about them? Anything about them we haven’t asked that you think might be relevant?’

  ‘I dunno, really. I dunno what you want me to say. The fella, he didn’t speak much, he was the quiet type. The week he did speak he seemed different. That was when he got emotional.’

  ‘Different?’

  ‘Yeah. I think he’d had a slip. He didn’t say it outright. He just talked like he might have. A lot of people, when they have a drink, they can’t bring themselves to say it. He was talking about how hard it is an’ that but it was all about how much he was hurting other people. I guessed he has a wife, a girlfriend at least. But I think he’s a long way from winning. Doing this as long as I have, seeing the people you see every week, I could see it in him. He still gets that big thrill from it. He still yearns for that. He isn’t ready to stop.’

  ‘So you think he’ll relapse?’

  ‘If he hasn’t already.’

  * * *

  They walked back to the car. Jeremy Lennox only just stopped short of apologising to Maddie and her gruff colleague on the way out. She had not seen that coming.

  ‘What did you make of him?’ It was the first thing Harry said when the doors were pulled shut on the Discovery. Maddie looked over, happy that he was asking her opinion like it mattered.

  ‘If you’re asking me if I think he was telling us all he knows, then, yes, I would say he is.’

  ‘I agree. You seemed to know a little bit about those meetings. You said you’ve been to one.’

  ‘A lot more than one.’

  The car was ticking over but Harry didn’t drive away. He looked over at Maddie like he was waiting for her to continue. She recognised that he was using his silences on her now and as difficult as he was to read, he might have looked concerned.

  ‘God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. The courage to change the things I can. And the wisdom to know the difference,’ Maddie said.

  ‘What the hell is that?’

  ‘The prayer. The meetings I went to . . . you said it at the start. Every time. It’s not a bad mantra as they go. Certainly it gives the addicts something to cling on to.’

  ‘And you still remember it?’

  ‘You say something enough times . . .’

  ‘I didn’t have you as the type.’

  Maddie laughed. ‘You wouldn’t believe what I’ve done, who I’ve had to be.’

  ‘It was a UC thing then? Playing a role? Makes more sense.’

  ‘It was. But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t need it.’

  ‘That might explain your choice of phone case at least.’ Harry’s face flickered a smile before he selected Drive on the gearbox. He seemed to stumble over it a little. The car fell back into silence. Maddie broke it.

  ‘We’ve got your enquiry to do now, then. Do you want me to sit in the car while the adults talk?’ She chuckled, but she was testing him.

  ‘No. You should come in. I don’t want to leave you in here. Just in case you press something you shouldn’t.’

  Maddie was pretty sure that Harry Blaker had just made a joke.

  Chapter 22

  Maddie knew nothing about McCall’s Construction but the impression the reception area gave was that of a reasonably large outfit. A middle-aged woman in a McCall’s branded shirt sat behind a desk. The walls were plain white, broken up by pictures of men and women in high visibility clothing and hard hats shaking hands with people in suits with what Maddie assumed were examples of their finished work in the background. There were a couple of awards up on shelves, too, and rows of recent health and safety certificates. The woman picked up a ringing phone. She held out a finger towards Harry as he approached. Maddie could sense his frustration. The call was short.

  ‘Can I help you?’ the woman said. She stood up to speak. The desk was high and she needed to stand to be seen properly.

  ‘I hope so. I’m Detective Inspector Blaker and this is Detective Sergeant Ives. We’re here about the truck.’

  ‘Ah yes, of course! We were expecting a visit. I’ve got a number to call from our fleet manager for when you did. Would you like to take a seat and I’ll check if he’s on site.’

  She gestured at a row of benches softened by a long cushion. Maddie moved to sit. Harry walked over but stayed standing, facing out of the large window. Maddie’s eyes were drawn to it too. It overlooked a busy-looking yard. There was a lot of movement from heavy goods vehicles, diggers and trucks. Raw materials were laid out like they were there to be picked up and taken away. A big warehouse was visible over the other side of the concrete yard. Everyone wore something blue with the McCall’s branding on it.

  ‘Good morning.’ Maddie turned to see a man walk out into the reception area. His choice of McCall’s branded clothing was a blue polo shirt. The buttons were done right up so the collar gripped tight around his neck. He had a warm smile. In his right hand he carried a clipboard. He pulled a pen from one of the side pockets in his black workwear trousers. Harry moved towards him and took his offered hand. Maddie did the same. ‘I’m Ryan Clarke, the fleet manager here. I’ll just sign you in,’ he said, ‘then you can come through and I’ll put the kettle on.’ He scribbled on the clipboard and left it on the desk. He made for a door that was off to the right.

  As soon as they moved away from the customer facing part of the company, it was obvious that the attention to detail and clean lines of the décor was lost. They moved down a corridor. It was still white, but the plasterboard was chipped and scuffed, even coming away in places. Where the ceiling met the wall what looked like a water stain could be seen and the plush carpet of the entrance gave way to bare, pock-marked concrete flooring. There was a door halfway along. As soon as Clarke pulled it open the din of a roaring diesel engine was all-consuming.

  They crossed the yard when it was safe and were led to a large Portakabin with steps up to the door. The quiet returned as Maddie pulled the door shut behind them.

  ‘Sorry I couldn’t take you to one of the nice meeting rooms in there. Those are for senior management. They get the hump if people like me go trampling in there in my big safety boots!’

  ‘It doesn’t matter where we speak,’ Harry said. The gruffness was well and truly back in his voice.

  ‘This is about the stolen truck, I assume?’

  ‘It’s about the truck, yes. I don’t believe it was reported stolen.’

  ‘Well, nobody here realised it had been. I got told it was stolen and burnt out. Did you want to take a seat? Two teas?’

  ‘Sure,’ Harry answered. Clarke walked to an area clearly assigned as the kitchen. It consisted of some work surface and a sink. The kettle was next to a row of upturned mugs. A small fridge sat underneath. He spun three mugs round. Each of them was branded with McCall’s.

  ‘You people really like everyone to be sure where they are!’ Maddie said.

  ‘Sorry?’ Clarke stopped what he was doing.

  ‘I haven’t seen much that doesn’t have McCall’s stamped on it yet!’

  ‘Ah! Yes, I know. An accountant explained it to me once. Companies get to a certain size and they need to lose some of their extra cash. Branding seems to be a popular way.’

  ‘Couldn’t they just spend it on your salaries?’ Maddie said.

  ‘Well, that was my suggestion, but they went for mugs. I mean, I could complain, but they’re nice mugs.’ He finished the tea and put one down in front of her. He lingere
d for a second.

  She smiled. ‘So it would seem.’

  He gave the other mug to Harry then pulled two black plastic chairs out from under a desk on the far side of the cabin and moved them over. He pulled off some kitchen roll and dabbed at the seat meant for Maddie.

  ‘Everything gets so dusty here. Not much we can do about it, I’m afraid.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Maddie said, sitting down. Harry sat next to her. Ryan Clarke moved to sit round the other side of the desk. The desktop itself seemed to be very orderly. He had two stacks of trays at either end. The keyboard and mouse were lined up just so and he had a coaster for his mug. It was one of two desks in the cabin. The other was more like Maddie might have expected: a mess of paperwork, clutter and teacup rings.

  Harry took out a notebook. ‘So, you’re Ryan Clarke, the fleet manager here?’

  ‘I am. I do a bit of surveying, too, but the fleet is more my thing these days.’

  ‘Fleet manager — is that what it says on your contract?’

  ‘It does.’

  ‘What does that mean? What are your daily responsibilities?’

  ‘Well, I look after the vehicles. We have a number of company cars for senior and middle management, pool cars for the likes of us down the bottom of the chain and also plant vehicles. The vast majority are leased. My job is the day-to-day running of those leases but also making sure that we have the right sort of plant on the books when we need it and that we’re not paying out for it when we don’t.’

  ‘You say you “look after” the vehicles, but you didn’t know this one had been stolen. Is that right?’ Harry’s pen hovered.

  Clarke’s gaze flicked from Harry to Maddie before he answered. ‘No. That’s right. I guess saying that I look after them isn’t quite right. I’m responsible for making sure we have enough of the right types and the admin. The truck was signed out to someone and so it wasn’t being kept here. There was no way I could have known it was stolen.’

  ‘Assuming it was?’

  ‘I can’t help you with that bit.’

  ‘So, tell me about this truck.’