Flatline

by Robert Innes

  Time and time again, she had watched the video that The Watcher had sent her, trying to figure out who was behind the mask, but with the voice modifier on and the surgical cap and mask completely covering all but their eyes, it was impossible. Kelsey was even starting to wonder if they had put contact lenses in.

  Now, she was flicking through old photographs of her and Joe. Most of them had been taken over a year ago, before Lucy Pennock’s death. Kelsey studied Joe’s face in the pictures, and then her own. They had been so carefree, with no idea of what was coming their way. Both smiling, laughing and enjoying life. Then, she came across a picture that she remembered having been taken six months ago. Even if she did not remember the party it was taken at, Kelsey would have known it was taken after the accident. She recognised the haunted expression in her eyes.

  The sound of the letterbox snapping shut broke into her thoughts. It was too late for the postman, not that she ever received anything worth opening, so she hauled herself off the sofa and trudged through to the hallway, stopping in her tracks when she spotted what had landed on her doormat. It was a single white lily and a card. She unlocked the front door and hurried into the street, looking frantically around. The street was empty.

  She walked back into the house and slammed the door, locking it behind her, and then picked up the card. It had her name scrawled onto the front, but she did not recognise the handwriting.

  She tore open the envelope and pulled the card out. It was a sympathy card, with a blue teddy on the front. She opened the card and frowned at the message inside. ‘Sorry for your loss,’ followed by a single ‘x’. Why would someone send her a sympathy card and not sign it?

  Her heart began to hammer in her chest. Was it The Watcher? Did he know where she lived? She sighed heavily and returned to the sofa, clutching the card and the lily. This constant state of paranoia was starting to make her feel like she was going crazy. She felt like she did not even have enough emotional energy left to grieve for Joe properly.

  Her phone began ringing in her pocket. As she looked at the screen, and saw Gloria’s name, she groaned. It was not that she did not want to speak to Gloria per say, more just that she did not want to communicate with anybody. The idea of shutting herself away from the rest of the world seemed to be the most attractive notion at this point, but she knew that Gloria would consistently ring her until she got a response.

  “Hello?” she said flatly.

  “Kelse, thank God. Are you okay?” her best friend asked her hurriedly. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I’ve been run over,” Kelsey replied, though she immediately regretted her words as her eyes landed on the lily again.

  “Do you want me to come over when I’ve finished work?”

  “Honestly? Not really. I’m sorry, Glo, it’s not you. I just need to be on my own at the moment. I need to decide what I’m going to do. I can’t arrange the funeral yet, not till the police release Joe’s body. I just need time to get used to everything.”

  “I understand,” Gloria said, though Kelsey could detect a hint of disappointment and slight hurt in her voice, though Kelsey hardly had the time or energy to try and deal with that now. “That policeman was asking me questions, by the way.”

  Kelsey sat up straight, alarmed. “Which policeman?”

  “Mr Harte with the appendicitis,” Gloria replied.

  “What was he asking you?”

  “Oh, nothing much really. But I’d have felt bad if I didn’t tell you I’d spoken to him.”

  “He was a patient, Gloria. He had no right asking you questions!” Kelsey exclaimed, feeling a huge surge of resentment towards Blake and his suspicious mind.

  “I know that, but he said that once he was out of hospital, he’d be back in charge of the investigation into Joe’s death anyway, so I gave him a few minutes. It would only have been prolonging it otherwise.”

  Kelsey sighed and put her head in her hands. “What did he ask you?”

  “Just about Joe and you. Asking about your relationship, about whether I thought he had any secrets from you.”

  Kelsey frowned. “Secrets? Like what?”

  “I dunno, he’s the policeman, not me. I got the impression he thought there was more to Joe’s death. I mean, I’ll be honest Kelse, it’s looking like he was murdered. I mean, how, God only knows. He was alone in a lift. But, it sounds like that’s how they’re treating it.”

  Kelsey had feared as much. It confirmed above anything else that had happened that The Watcher was dangerous, and for all she knew, whoever it was could be after her next.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?” Gloria asked her. “It wouldn’t be any trouble.”

  “No, it’s fine,” Kelsey told her firmly. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” Gloria replied. She sounded slightly despondent. Kelsey could not believe she would choose to sulk at a time like this. “Well, take care of yourself. Speak to you tomorrow.”

  “Bye.”

  Kelsey hung up the phone and dropped it back on the sofa. She picked up the lily and examined it carefully.

  A loud bang on the kitchen window made her jump.

  “What the hell was that?” she murmured to herself.

  As if in reply, another, louder, bang came from the kitchen. It sounded as if someone was chucking something at the window.

  Her heart beating faster, she slowly made her way towards the kitchen. She had closed the curtains when she had returned from the hospital and had not opened them since.

  She took a deep breath and pulled them open, and nearly fainted from shock at what she saw. She backed away from the window and came to a stop, staring at the sight before her.

  Standing in her back yard, with a fixed gaze on her, a large stone in hand, was a tall figure wearing a surgeon’s mask and cap. The Watcher titled his head to the side slightly, throwing the stone up in the air and catching it.

  Kelsey did not feel immediately unsafe. The back door to the yard was locked, and double bolted, but The Watcher did not seem fazed by this. Again, he threw the stone up in the air and caught it, before moving forwards and throwing it at the window. It bounced off and broke into two.

  For a few moments, neither of them moved. Kelsey stared at the figure. Looking at his figure, she was almost positive it was a man. The Watcher was tall and looked to have broad shoulders. But, as he had been in the video, completely unrecognisable underneath the cap and mask. There was only one way she could think to attempt to answer any of the questions she had. If he only had stones to chuck at her window, then he was perhaps not armed in any other way.

  Before she could stop herself, she had walked forwards and unlocked the back door. Then, she pulled it open and stepped out into the yard.

  The Watcher did not move. He kept staring at her, as Kelsey took a couple of steps forwards.

  She took a deep breath. “I’ll call the police,” she threatened. “You need to leave me alone.”

  There was a pause, then The Watcher spoke in the same distorted voice he had used in the video. “Lucy Pennock.”

  Kelsey nodded. She could feel her forehead breaking out in a cold sweat. “I know.”

  “You let her die. You could have saved her, and you let her die.”

  “I don’t think I could have saved her,” Kelsey said quietly. Despite how scared she was, she felt a strange sense of relief being able to speak frankly about Lucy’s death with someone, even if that person was responsible for Joe’s murder.

  “I saw you,” replied The Watcher. “I know what happened. I watched what happened.”

  Kelsey’s eyes widened fearfully. “What do you mean?”

  “The night of Lucy’s death. Joe Tilsley was driving, you were his passenger. You could have saved her.”

  “Joe’s dead,” Kelsey said, the words difficult to say. “I don’t know how, but he’s dead. You’ve killed him, and what happens now? I’m next? You’ve taken away the only family I had, the only man I could sa
y that I actually loved. Haven’t you punished me enough?”

  The Watcher did not reply for a moment, perhaps thinking. Then, he said, “There is more going on here than you could know. Lucy’s death was no accident. Your justice is coming.”

  “You need to leave me alone,” Kelsey said, trying to sound more aggressive than she felt. “If I see or hear from you again, I’m going to the police.”

  The Watcher tilted his head to the side again. “Are you? You’ve had a whole year to go to the police. What difference do I make? They’ll be involved. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “Who are you?” Kelsey whispered. “And what do you mean Lucy’s death wasn’t an accident? Of course it was.”

  “How well did you know Joe Tilsley?” the figure asked her. “How well do you know anybody until you know their darkest secrets? There was more to Joe than you realise, and when you do, that is when your justice will come.”

  Suddenly, The Watcher turned around and leapt over the fence at the back of the yard. Kelsey ran to follow him, but by the time she had reached the fence and hauled herself over, The Watcher was already leaping over a wall and out of sight.

  Kelsey stood for a few moments, her stalker’s words having taken her completely off guard. Was he implying that Joe had meant to kill Lucy? What did he know about Joe that was so terrible? She knew that Joe was a private person, especially when they had first started dating, but surely there was nothing so terrible as the implication that Joe had deliberately hit Lucy?

  She took a deep breath as a realisation came into her head. The only one that was clear. It was time for her to end this constant nightmare for herself. The Watcher had said that the police would be involved eventually, and Kelsey knew that he was right. She was going to have to go and confess to her involvement in Lucy’s death.

  11

  I can’t go in, Blake,” Harrison argued. “You’re not well.”

  Blake sighed in exasperation from the sofa, from which he had not moved from since he had arrived back in Harmschapel. “Harrison, go. It’s fine, I’ll be fine. All I’m going to do is rest. You know Jai wouldn’t call you unless it was urgent. There is no reason why you can’t go in and cover for the night. My phone is here, I will ring you if there’s a problem. Go. Earn money. If it makes you feel better, ring me when you can. I’ll either be absolutely fine, or asleep, during which I will also be fine.”

  Harrison pulled a face, clearly unhappy but shrugged. “Okay, okay. But you ring me if you need anything.” He glanced at the backdoor which Betty was still headbutting, though Blake doubted she even remembered what she was annoyed about. “Will you feed her?”

  “To an alligator?” Blake asked lightly.

  Harrison raised his eyebrows.

  “I was joking. Of course I’ll feed her. Now, will you go before Jai is ringing for someone to cover you?”

  Harrison kissed Blake. “It’s good to have you back,” he said warmly and then disappeared out the front door.

  Blake watched him leave and then glared at Betty, who had stopped headbutting the door and now was just staring at him, as if daring him to just try and come any closer. He hauled himself up, then hobbled across the living room to the cupboard where her food was kept, then approached the door cautiously.

  “I’m warning you,” he said darkly as she tapped her foot on the ground. He pushed the door open gently, lowering the bowl down to the ground. She watched him carefully. Then, he slowly rose up again. “Good girl,” he said, smiling.

  He had spoken too soon. Betty reared on her hind legs bleating furiously and charged into the side of his legs with as much force as an animal her size could muster.

  “Ow!” he exclaimed. “You little -”

  His loud expletive was drowned out by the sound of him slamming the door shut. Betty tapped her foot on the ground again, then went about eating her meal, apparently very pleased with herself.

  Blake exhaled in pain at where she had hit him. If she had decided to do it just a second beforehand, she would have got him right in the abdomen. He made a mental note to tell Harrison that he would be feeding Betty in future.

  He turned around, rubbing his leg and looked out of the living room window just as Michael Gardiner walked past.

  “Michael!” Blake called, hobbling as quickly as he could to the door, which was made even slower now he had a sore leg to contend with.

  He pulled open the front door and shouted Gardiner’s name down the street again.

  Gardiner turned around and his face dropped slightly. “Oh,” he said, walking back towards Blake again. “It’s you. Aren’t you supposed to still be in hospital?”

  “I escaped,” replied Blake, leaning against the wall of the cottage for support. “Just on your way to work?”

  Gardiner narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Yes. We have a meeting.”

  “Oh? About the Joe Tilsley case?”

  “I don’t think you need concern yourself.”

  “Oh, go on, Michael,” Blake pressed. “Is it about the case?”

  Gardiner sighed in irritation. “Yes, if you must know.”

  “I’m only asking because I actually have some information for you. I managed to speak to a couple of the staff, so I could come and hand over that information. Don’t worry, I’m not here to tread on your toes. I’m just trying to help you with intel, that’s all.”

  Gardiner looked as though he wanted to argue but he then huffed, followed by a nod.

  Together, they made their way to the station, which was a few streets away. The journey felt much longer than usual though, partly because of Blake’s slow speed and because Gardiner barely said a word throughout the journey.

  When they eventually arrived, Gardiner hurried ahead up the steps. Blake thought at first it was to open the door for him, but instead Gardiner disappeared inside the building.

  “Oh, he is such an arse,” Blake muttered to himself. He limped up the steps, but as he went to reach for the door handle, he suddenly felt a sharp pain from his stomach. It seared through his abdomen, causing him to double over and lean on the handrail for support. But then, just as suddenly as it had hit him, it faded away.

  The door opened, and Gardiner poked his head out. “Are you coming or not? What’s wrong with you?”

  Blake straightened himself up again, taking a moment to check that everything felt normal. “Nothing, I’m fine,” he said at last. “Just a bit of trapped wind I think.”

  Gardiner looked revolted, then disappeared back inside the station. Blake exhaled with relief that nothing else seemed to be wrong, then followed him in.

  “DS Harte,” Angel said in surprise as they entered the meeting room. “This is a surprise. I take it you’re on the road to recovery?”

  “Getting there, thank you, Sir,” Blake replied. “I met Michael on the way, thought I’d just pop in.”

  “He has some information to give us,” Gardiner said sharply. “Then he’s going home to rest up again.”

  Blake bit his tongue to prevent him from saying something inappropriate, then smiled cheerfully at Angel. “That’s right. I understand that you’re just about to have a meeting about the case?”

  “That’s correct,” Angel said. “Were you planning on staying for it?”

  “Oh,” replied Blake, feigning surprise. “I can do, I suppose. It would make sense for when I come back to work to be as up to date with the case as I can be.”

  “I’m sure you’ll catch up,” Gardiner said through gritted teeth.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Angel said. “Alright, take a seat, DS Harte. Obviously, you won’t be leading the meeting as Sergeant Gardiner is currently in your shoes. Doing a very good job of it as well.”

  “Absolutely,” Blake said, as he sat down next to Mattison. “I’m sure he is. Carry on, Michael.”

  Gardiner glared at him for a moment, then picked up the case file, cleared his throat and addressed the room.

  “Okay, silence please. As you’re all aw
are, we are currently investigating the death of Joseph Tilsley, thirty-five.” He pulled the forensic photograph of Joe’s body at the scene out of the folder and pinned it to the whiteboard. “He was found, apparently drowned, in a lift on the seventh floor of Clackton General Hospital. Quite how he ended up like that is a bit of mystery, which we will come to in a moment.”

  He paused to glance at Blake, who was watching him with his arms folded. Blake gave an encouraging nod for Gardiner to continue.

  “The forensic report points out a couple of bruises on the back of the victim’s neck,” Gardiner went on, pulling another photo out of the folder.

  Blake looked at the bruises frowning. He agreed with Sharon, they certainly did look like they were applied with force.

  “Do we know what happened before Tilsley went into that lift?” Mattison asked.

  “Yeah, we spoke to the girlfriend and one of the porters who found the body,” Patil answered. “And we have a witness statement from one of the cleaners that Tilsley entered that lift about twenty-five minutes before he was discovered.”

  “Yes,” Gardiner said, producing a photograph of the lift and sticking it on the board. “The lift he was found in was stuck for approximately twenty-one minutes. In that time, someone has apparently entered the lift, drowned him, then escaped again.”

  Blake raised his hand tentatively. Gardiner glared at him. “What?”

  “Well, it’s not just the killer that would have had to get in and get out of that lift before the doors were opened again. If we’re saying he drowned, then there would have also had to be enough water somehow present in which to do it. I was in that lift today. It doesn’t look to me like it’s had any contact with any water whatsoever.”

  “What are your theories, DS Harte?” Angel asked from behind them.

  “Could you pass me the forensic report please, Michael?” Blake asked, holding his hand out.

  Gardiner looked across at Angel with a look of annoyance on his face, then slammed the marker pen down on the desk and thrust the folder at Blake.

  “Thank you, Michael,” Blake said dryly. He pulled the forensics report out of the folder and read it through as quickly as he could. “As I thought. Sharon has stated here that there were traces of water around his mouth and on his hands. Other than that, he was bone dry. If we’re going by the bruises, then it would seem that someone had a very tight hold on the back of his neck. It fits with the theory that he was drowned, of course it does, but where’s the water come from? And how does someone get it into him, then back out again without spilling a drop on the carpet?”