WATCHING YOU_The gripping edge-of-the-seat thriller with a stunning twist.

by Lynda Renham

  ‘It’s the only way I feel safe,’ I reply.

  Grant seems inconspicuous in the corner of the restaurant, but I know he is watching everyone. I feel more relaxed knowing he is with me.

  ‘It’s no life, Libby.’

  I glare at her.

  ‘Do you think I want this?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she says, taken aback.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘My nerves are ragged. Let’s eat.’

  She nods, and we choose our dishes. I ask the waitress to take something over to Grant and then sit back in my seat to enjoy lunch.

  ‘Thanks for all you did, Donna,’ I say gratefully. ‘I thought I was going to lose everything.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. I only told them the truth.’

  I sigh.

  ‘It’s just a shame they have to know the truth.’

  ‘It’s not a shame, Libby.’

  I smile gratefully.

  ‘So what are the police doing about all this?’

  I shrug.

  ‘I don’t think there is much they can do. They don’t seem to believe it is Ewan. Or at least they don’t want to confront him unless they have a hundred per cent proof. So, I’ve decided not to tell them anything that happens now. He’s managed to get my new phone number and I think he’s put a virus on it. He sent me flowers too. I thought they were from Simon, but I now know they weren’t. I’m going to get my own investigator. I want to see what Ewan looks like now and where he is.’

  Donna puts down her fork, a concerned look on her face.

  ‘Is that a wise move Libby? He shot your family. Surely you should keep the police updated.’

  ‘What’s the point? They don’t do anything. He’s one step ahead of me all the time. I want that to stop Donna. I need to be one step ahead of him.’

  ‘Perhaps he’ll get fed up,’ smiles Donna, her tone hopeful.

  I reach a hand across to hers.

  ‘Ewan doesn’t give up. Don’t worry. Now I’ve made the decision to be more in control I feel much better.’

  My trembling hand belies my words.

  ‘Please be careful,’ Donna warns.

  ‘I will. I’m going to Cornwall at the weekend. I’ve decided to sell the house. Get shot of it. Simon has offered to come with me.’

  ‘Oh good,’ she says her face brightening. ‘You’ll feel safe with him, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ I smile.

  If only things were that simple.

  *

  I hand over the photo of Ewan. It’s an old photo. It was the one the newspapers used when Ewan was arrested.

  ‘Ah, I think I remember this case,’ says the investigator.

  He’s short and fat, a perfect specimen of someone who eats too much and never exercises. He introduces himself as ‘Raymond Little, but call me Ray.’ I have no intention of calling him Ray.

  ‘He’s recently been released,’ I say. ‘It was my aunt and uncle that he shot.’

  Raymond Little raises his eyebrows ever so slightly.

  ‘Ah,’ he says.

  ‘He threatened me as he was taken down. He said he would get me. I’ve had threatening text messages with photos of my dead aunt, and my computer was hacked. He says he is watching me.’

  Raymond Little opened a paper bag and pulled a ham and tomato sandwich from it.

  ‘Do you mind? I’ve not had lunch.’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Thing is,’ he says through a mouthful of ham. ‘If it’s a bodyguard you need then it’s the police you should be talking to.’

  ‘I have my own bodyguard. What I want to know is where Ewan Galbreith lives in London or if he’s living in Padley. Where he works and how often he comes near my flat.’

  Raymond Little wipes his hands on a soiled tissue.

  ‘That doesn’t sound like a difficult job. How often would you like a report?’

  ‘Whenever you have something to tell me.’

  He grins.

  ‘Well, the costs …’

  ‘Money isn’t an issue.’

  He pushes a tooth pick into his mouth.

  ‘I’ll just need a few particulars. What prison he was in, when he came out, family names, that kind of thing.’

  ‘I can give you those.’

  ‘That’s great. I’ll get on it ASAP,’ he holds out a greasy hand to me. I ignore it and stand up.

  ‘I look forward to hearing from you,’ I say and walk to the door.

  I take a deep breath and step out into the summer heat. I finally feel back in control and decide to do some shopping.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Fifteen years earlier

  Libby and Laura giggled as they walked around Ann Summers. The shop had only recently opened in Exeter and Libby couldn’t wait to see it. She considered buying a few things, but she couldn’t very well do so while Laura was with her. How would she explain why she needed them?

  Libby hadn’t told anyone about Patrick. She was too afraid the word would get back to her uncle and then that would be it.

  ‘Ooh look at these,’ said Laura, pointing to the vibrators.

  ‘Have you done it yet?’ Libby asked.

  ‘Not all the way,’ admitted Laura. ‘What about you?’

  Libby nodded.

  ‘You haven’t,’ gasped Laura. ‘Oh my God, who with?’

  ‘I’m not going to tell you.’

  ‘Why not? I won’t tell anyone.’

  ‘But what if you do and then they tell someone else. It will get back to Uncle Edward and then I’ll be in big trouble.’

  Laura tucked her arm into Libby’s.

  ‘Is it Ewan? God, you lucky cow if it is.’

  Libby sighed.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Let’s get a milkshake,’ grinned Laura. ‘I’ll get it out of you.’

  They walked from Ann Summers towards the milkshake shop when Laura squeezed Libby’s arm.

  ‘Guess who just passed us,’ she whispered.

  ‘Who?’ asked Libby looking behind her.

  ‘Molly, your housekeeper, she’s just gone into Ann Summers.’

  They both giggled and backtracked to see what Molly was looking at.

  ‘The vibrators,’ whispered Libby.

  ‘She’s got Aunty Rose’s handbag,’ said Libby, surprised.

  ‘No way!’

  Molly spotted them and hurried from the shop.

  ‘I needed a birthday card for a friend,’ said Molly.

  ‘Isn’t that Aunty Rose’s bag?’ asked Libby.

  Molly’s face coloured.

  ‘She said I could borrow it.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Libby disbelieving.

  Aunty Rose would never let Libby borrow the Gucci handbag.

  ‘I’d better hurry. I’ll miss my bus,’ said Molly.

  ‘Bye,’ said Laura.

  They watched Molly hurry away.

  ‘I bet her boyfriend is good at it. Have you seen him?’ said Laura. ‘He’s a knock out. Come on, you’ve got to tell me who you did it with and what it was like.’

  Libby decided she would tell what it was like but not who with.

  *

  Patrick drained the last of his beer and considered whether there was time for another. He ought to get back. Lil would be creating. When didn’t she create? He stumbled to the pub door and pulled it open. The cold air knocked him back and it took him a few seconds to steady himself.

  He walked along the promenade, the wind cutting through him. It’d be bloody cold in the caravan, he thought and hoped Lil had the heaters on. They’d have to move on soon. He’d heard there had been complaints. There were always complaints. They’d have a few more weeks. It always takes forever before the law pushes them on. He needed to get a bit of work soon too. Money was tight. Still, if he played his cards right, there would be money. Libby Owen was a soft touch with a rich uncle. He wouldn’t miss a few thousand. It was timing it right. He also didn’t fancy going up to that big house. They most likely had vicious dogs. H
e didn’t want his leg chewed off. He needed to think this through. Plan it. Maybe he’d do that tomorrow.

  It was a fair walk to the caravan and he wished he’d jumped on the bus. His hands were numb and the cosy feeling the beer had given him had been blown away by the cold harsh wind. He bloody hated it by the sea. He’d only come here for Lil. Still, it had been a good move by all accounts. He just had to play his cards right. He climbed the gate leading to the field and saw the caravans ahead. He was so focused on getting into the warm that he didn’t see the shadowy figure by the fence.

  ‘Patrick?’ the man questioned stepping in front of him.

  Patrick thought he was vaguely familiar.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said suspiciously.

  The man smiled and Patrick remembered. He was the gamekeeper at Manstead Manor. He’d won the darts championship. He’d watched that night. He’d mentioned it to Libby and she had been proud when telling him that Ewan was her uncle’s gamekeeper.

  ‘Can I have a word?’ asked Ewan.

  ‘It’s fucking freezing,’ said Patrick. ‘How long will it take?’

  ‘That’s up to you,’ said Ewan.

  He couldn’t have been waiting long, Patrick thought. He didn’t look in the least cold. His arm was in plaster. Patrick couldn’t help wondering how Ewan had done that. For a moment he felt scared but only for a moment.

  ‘What’s this about?’ asked Patrick.

  They weren’t on Owen’s land, he was sure of that. There could be only one reason why Owen’s gamekeeper wanted a word and that reason was Libby.

  ‘Edward Owen isn’t happy about your relationship with his niece.’

  Patrick smirked.

  ‘Is that right?’

  Patrick’s drunken brain wouldn’t let him think clearly. All he could think was maybe this was his chance. Perhaps he wouldn’t need to get his leg chewed off by some fucking wild dog. He’d just tell Ewan what he wanted and he could pass it on.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Ewan softly. ‘Edward Owen has other ideas for his niece. You know the sort, a decent hardworking type of guy.’

  Patrick scoffed.

  ‘Are you saying I’m riff-raff?’

  ‘I’m saying it as it is.’

  He’s calm, thought Patrick. What he doesn’t realise is that I only have to call and he’d be surrounded by more so-called riff-raff.

  ‘Libby and I love each other,’ said Patrick.

  Ewan laughed.

  ‘That’s funny,’ he said. ‘Don’t you have a wife and three kids? Or have you forgotten about them? Mr Owen doesn’t want you seeing Libby again.’

  ‘That’s tough, because I will be seeing her again.’

  Ewan was so quick that Patrick didn’t have time to take a step backwards. He hadn’t even seen the shotgun. But he saw it now alright. It was aimed at his groin.

  ‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he groaned. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Ewan calmly.

  ‘I’ve got kids,’ trembled Patrick.

  ‘You’ve remembered them now have you?’

  ‘Is that thing loaded?’ quivered Patrick.

  ‘It may be,’ Ewan grinned. ‘You’ll just have to keep guessing won’t you? What you do know though is that Libby’s only seventeen. She’s just a kid and you’re taking advantage of her. No one would care if I ended your sex life, right here, right now.’

  ‘I … I … she told me she was nineteen,’ lied Patrick.

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ said Ewan, moving the gun.

  ‘Alright alright,’ Patrick yelled. ‘I knew her age.’

  Patrick struggled to breathe. He hated himself for being so scared. He’d yell for help, but no one would come once they saw the shotgun.

  ‘You’re on private property. You need to move out, right out of Cornwall,’ Ewan said. ‘You understand what I’m saying.’

  Patrick figured he had nothing to lose. This was a hundred times worse than a vicious dog. If he was going to ask, it might as well be now.

  ‘I don’t have any money. Not enough for diesel even. I’ll need a couple of thousand if I’m to get off the land. Can’t Owen help me out a bit?’

  He heard Ewan sigh.

  ‘Edward Owen’s not a charity.’

  ‘I’m not joking. I don’t have any money. I spent the last tonight in the pub.’

  ‘That was responsible,’ said Ewan cynically.

  ‘Just a few hundred then, to help a bloke out, just so I can get myself sorted. I’ll go back to Oz.’

  Ewan gave him a shove. Patrick tried to stay upright but the beer running through his veins coupled with his jelly legs made it impossible and he fell onto the muddy ground.

  ‘I’ll ask for you.’ said Ewan.

  Patrick waited for the kicking in the ribs, but it never came. There was no crack from the gun There was just silence and he realised Ewan Galbreith had gone. He staggered to the caravan, his eyes darting all over the place. Jesus, he never expected someone to come at him with a shotgun. Libby was a dangerous person to hang around with. That Edward Owen thought he was something, intimidating innocent men like that. He flung open the door of the caravan, the smell of baby vomit hitting his nostrils. The place always seemed to smell of sick and sweat. He wished Lil would clean up sometimes. God knows she didn’t have to do it every day. He can’t honestly think what she does all day long. She gets up from the couch, the baby still stuck to her nipple.

  ‘Where the fuck have you been?’ she drawled.

  The floor was littered with fish and chip wrapping paper and empty beer cans. He wasn’t going to tell her that some Scottish bastard had threatened to shoot his cock off because he’d been dipping it well above his station.

  ‘Why don’t you clean up?’ he said instead.

  ‘Why don’t you get a job?’ she countered.

  He dropped his trembling body onto a torn couch, a baby’s rattle stuck into his arse and he cursed.

  ‘I’ve got some money coming soon. We can move on then.’

  She looked at him suspiciously.

  ‘Money coming from where?’ she asked.

  ‘Does it matter?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘You’ll come a cropper one day.’

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Present day

  Libby

  The guy in the iPhone store is doing his best to be useful but I can tell he thinks I am an overanxious, paranoid female.

  ‘You can track with Google map tracker, or the friend tracker, on your iPhone. Of course, your boyfriend needs to have an iPhone too for the friend tracker. We have a special on today buy one and get the other for half price. I can go over the app with you.’

  ‘No, thank you anyway. But supposing my boyfriend is the computer hacker type and he deliberately puts a virus onto my phone, through my laptop. If I change the sim will the virus carry over?’

  He gives a thoughtful ‘Hmm,’ and then says, ‘Why would he want to do that?’

  I smile.

  ‘I suppose if that happens you’d be best to get another phone and enter everything manually.’

  ‘Right,’ I say.

  This is getting ridiculous.

  ‘I need a phone then,’ I say.

  I spend the evening entering my contacts and anything else I need on my phone. It’s time-consuming and irritating and I curse Ewan the whole time. The highlight of the evening was Little’s phone call on the landline.

  ‘He’s living in Forest Gate,’ he said. ‘I’m emailing the report over to you now.’

  ‘No, don’t email it,’ I said. ‘I want everything sent by post.’

  ‘That’s a bit outdated,’ he said.

  ‘Well, that’s how I want it. No emails. Texts are okay and if you can’t manage that then maybe I need to hire someone else.’

  ‘Whoa, hold your horses. I can do it. It’ll take longer that’s all.’

  ‘I don’t mind that.’

  I’m not taking any risks. I don’t want
Ewan knowing I’m onto him.

  ‘Forest Gate,’ I’d said. ‘Are you sure it’s him? I was expecting him to be in West London.’

  ‘It’s all London. You can check for yourself,’ said Little, clearly affronted. ‘But if you don’t want to go to his place in Forest Gate then you can always clock him at Heaven Scent the nightclub. He works there. He does all kinds of odd jobs. He’s on the door on a Tuesday and a Friday night. It’s in Stratford.’

  I can imagine Ewan as a nightclub bouncer. He’d be able to throw his weight around to his heart’s content. It also means that he’ll be mixing with people who can get hold of guns.

  Swift’s new development party is this evening. They’d liked my graphics. I ought to go, to be seen as a team player, especially after Ewan hacked my account and sent that dreadful email. It’s going to be uncomfortable meeting the people who saw that email and that gruesome photo, but I can’t let Carol down. I’ll go to Stratford afterwards. I don’t want to wait. It’s Tuesday and I want to see what Ewan now looks like. I can dress down before I leave. I pull a pair of jeans and a thin beige blouse from the wardrobe and fold them neatly into an overnight bag along with my cleanser and some cotton wool. I don’t want to go to Forest Gate with my make-up on and wearing a cocktail dress. I stare at the blouse and then pull it out of the bag. It doesn’t do me justice. This is ridiculous. I don’t want Ewan to see me. But part of me wants to look good just in case he does. I take a more flattering blouse from the wardrobe and fold it into the bag.

  I look at my phone to see if Simon has answered my text. It would be so much nicer having company at the party this evening and I’d feel so much more confident going to Heaven Scent, if he were with me, but there’s nothing. I sigh and go into the bathroom with Merlin at my heels. I’ll have a long relaxing soak and then I’ll get ready. It most likely isn’t Ewan at all and all this anxiety will have been for nothing.

  I’m about to climb into the tub when my phone bleeps. I grab it hopefully. It’s a text from Simon.

  That would have been great. Sadly I’m out for dinner with a client in Henley. I’m looking forward to Saturday though.

  I step into the bath as disappointment washes over me. Merlin meows and I lean over to pet him.