He is Watching You

by Charlie Gallagher

  The wall on the other side was cleaner. It looked dry and there was no mould. There was a sticker in the top right corner with letters and numbers that didn’t mean anything to her. She looked further down, back at the roll of plastic lying next to her. It was a dark grey and spotted with darker stains — mainly in shades of rusty brown. Her eyes moved up to where the plastic ended. At the top was a clump of black wire, maybe, or fluff. It was curled up and stained red in places. She looked closer. The wire was moving. It was alive with maggots! They writhed and fell, spilling out of what seemed to be the source of them all. She felt the panic rising up again. Her exhausted and confused mind was catching up. The smell suddenly seemed stronger. It clung to her like an extra layer. That wasn’t wire or fluff, it was something else — it was someone!

  She rolled away a lot quicker as panic surged through her, adrenalin with it. She bucked and twisted in the wrap. Her right arm suddenly worked free. She was able to push it down into the floor and push herself up. The tight plastic still restricted her movement but she could work on that now. She could unravel it maybe. She concentrated on finding the end. She had to block everything else from her mind. She found it under her hips. She dared a glance to her right. Now she was sitting up she could see the side of a woman’s face. It looked red raw. What was left of her skin was a washed-out white. The eye sockets wriggled with the white bodies of maggots. Flies fidgeted across it. She tried to tell herself it wasn’t real — just a horror movie prop put in here to scare her. But she had to stop what she was doing. She had hold of the end of the plastic but she leant away to heave. Only bile came up. The pain in her stomach returned at once and it forced her back down on the floor. All the strength in the arm holding her up was gone. She could feel the coldness of the metal again against her cheek. She wanted to close her eyes to the horror all around her.

  Her exhaustion was back with a vengeance. She looked at her hand; how pale her skin was! She knew she was in a lot of trouble. She must have lost a lot of blood. She felt so weak. She knew she was meant to die here. Just like that other girl. She felt a sudden determination for that not to happen. If she could just stay calm . . .

  She planted her hand back on the floor. It took every ounce of strength left in her but she twisted back to a sitting position. She found the start of the plastic again, the point where she could start freeing herself from its grip. She bit down hard, using her pain to fire her determination rather than let it cripple her. The outer layer of the plastic unravelled by an inch, maybe two.

  Then the light was gone. The darkness was thicker than ever, the flies louder. She sucked in air again. She tried to speak, to shout out for help, but her throat wouldn’t open. She managed a sob. It was excruciating but she could do nothing about it. More followed and the pain brought her back down to the floor.

  * * *

  He leaned right forward, almost out of his seat. He was barely breathing.

  She was alive!

  She was moving and she was fighting. He had actually seen the moment when she realised what was lying next to her. He could see the fear on her face! He nearly dropped his phone in his haste to activate the record function. He could save five-minute chunks at a time. That should be enough for what he had just seen. Already he wanted to review it. That would be when he would have his release. But he had to focus now. She was moving a lot more than he’d have thought possible. Now he realised he had a job that needed finishing. He was certain there would be no way out of that container, even for someone who was fit and well. But he wouldn’t leave that to chance. He didn’t want to. His excitement started to peak again. He walked back to the bathroom. It was a ritual of his . . .

  He ran his hand over his sleek head. There was no need to shave it again. It was already close enough to his scalp that he could be sure he wouldn’t shed any hairs. He lifted the blind that was covering the bathroom window. The daylight was diminishing. It would be dark soon. He considered that he didn’t like to work at night. It gave an element of cover from prying eyes but also tended to hide the approach of other people — potential witnesses. Dawn was just a few hours away. He already had an early start planned for a job. It wasn’t so far from the farm. He could be there by mid-morning. That way, he would blend in with the traffic. He knew a place he could park and wait so that no one would see him access the land. But even if they did, he had his reasons for being there. It would all check out. He just needed a few minutes on that land — to open that container door, to finish what he’d started. And to savour every second of it.

  He walked back into the living room. He dropped to his knees and bent in front of his sofa. He reached under. His fingers bumped against something solid. He pulled out the long, vicious, jagged knife he had taken out of the truck. Tonight he would scrub it, then wrap the handle tightly in fresh sterile bandages, as tightly as he could manage. The next day, those bandages would burn in a metal incinerator.

  This time he would make sure.

  Chapter 16

  Even on approaching the house Maddie was pretty certain there wasn’t going to be anyone inside. It sat in complete darkness. She hung back and let Rhiannon ring the bell, then tap on the front window. The house was one of a number of newish builds that still managed to look rundown overall, flat-fronted and featureless. Some white weatherboarding clung to the top half of the front. Up close, she could see it was coated in a layer of grime. The place looked tired and unloved in the unforgiving white glare of the LED streetlights.

  This was the home address for Lorraine Humphries ­— occasional home address at least. From the tale of woe Rhiannon had told on the way over, Maddie got the impression that she tended to spend the night anywhere there was alcohol. And with anyone supplying it. She had explained how Lorraine had been married once with a young child. The marriage split up when Social Services had found her lying face down in the street while her nine-month-old daughter crawled around her, dragging her own dirty nappy. Her husband came home from work, picked up the child and left. Lorraine had barely seen him since, save for supervised child access.

  ‘What’s round the back?’ Maddie said. The house was at the end of a row of three. The middle one incorporated a sort of arch over a slip of tarmac that went through to an open space. She could see waist-high lights on poles, through the gap.

  ‘Car parking. It’s like a courtyard.’

  ‘And she’s the ground floor, right?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s a bit misleading. They look like houses but they’re split up into flats. The top flat runs over the arch.’

  Maddie walked through the arch. On the other side was the rear of the ground-floor flat. A double door led out from it onto a small, enclosed garden. A light clung to the wall and it came on with her movement. The grass was overgrown and scorched to the point that it had a straw-like appearance. There was a low gate. She stepped over it to get to a back door that had frosted glass panels. There was also a window to the left. She pushed up against it. She could see into a kitchen that looked untidy rather than dirty. She knocked on the back door and immediately moved back to the window, watching for any signs of movement. There were none.

  ‘Patrols that came here before . . . they spoke to the neighbours, right?’

  Rhiannon shrugged. ‘They spoke to a bloke who lives opposite and doesn’t have much to do with her. He just said she was a drinker and a pain.’

  Maddie lifted the lid on a wheelie bin that had been pushed to the far side of the window. The lid was sticky. Maddie suspected it hadn’t been opened for a while. She leaned over it. It was two-thirds full: wine bottles and cider cans. Nothing that could be of help.

  ‘I reckon we should try a bit harder,’ Maddie said.

  The front door to the flat that ran above Lorraine’s address was back under the arch, next to Lorraine’s. Again it had a frosted glass panel and Maddie could make out a flight of stairs on the other side. The doorbell was loud. It still took more than a minute for any response. Maddie was pressed up again
st the glass waiting for movement. The voice shouting down from above made her jump.

  ‘Yeah?’

  Maddie backed away. A woman looked down on her from an upstairs window pushed wide open. She was black with a round face. One of her arms was visible where she held onto the window.

  ‘Hey, sorry to bother you. Do you have a minute?’

  ‘Not really. I got the telly on. What yous want?’

  Even though Maddie was doing the talking, the woman in the window kept her eyes fixed on Rhiannon who was standing a few paces behind her. Maddie guessed it was the uniform.

  ‘We’re worried is all — about your neighbour. We just want to ask a few questions. Have you seen her?’

  ‘Who? Larry?’

  ‘Larry? No. Lorraine, she lives in—’

  ‘Larry, yeah. That’s what she gets called. I ain’t never heard no one call her Lorraine.’

  ‘I see. Well, Larry, then. Have you seen her recently?’

  ‘Nah, not for a while, actually.’

  ‘Are you friends? You and Larry?’

  ‘Friends? I wouldn’t say friends, you know? Sometimes I go round for a can of cider or what not. She don’t come round here though. My man, he don’t like her. He thinks she’s trouble. She can get a bit rowdy, you know what I mean?’

  ‘I think I do, yeah. When was the last time you saw her?’

  ‘I dunno. A week. Two weeks maybe. I got a busy life. I don’t go round checking on no people to see what they got going on.’

  ‘I’m sure you don’t. Tell me about her though, Larry I mean. She’s been reported missing. Are you surprised by that? Does she often go off for a few days?’

  ‘She can do. I mean I don’t really know the girl, yeah? I just live above, like. But I’m not surprised. She’ll be somewhere having a right good drink. She likes a few beers. Probably somewhere being rowdy right now!’

  ‘Let’s hope so. Have you got a number for her?’

  ‘A number? Like a phone number? Nah, we don’t call. I got her on Facebook, see.’

  ‘Facebook. Does she put stuff on there often?’

  ‘She does yeah, quite a bit, stuff about her ex and her little girl an’ that. Some people put too much of that shit on there, you know? I dunno why they do that.’

  ‘Can you have a look? See when she last posted anything.’

  The woman made a sound like she was sucking on her own teeth. Then she was gone. Maddie looked to Rhiannon and made a face. She had no idea if the round-faced woman was coming back. They both stayed in the garden, their necks craned upwards. The woman did come back. Her face was lit from the chin upwards by the phone in her hand.

  ‘There’s been nothing new on there for a while. Late last week she put something up about wanting to have her life over again or something. The usual sort of stuff. It’s a bit of an attention thing, I think, but she’s got her issues. Ain’t we all?’

  ‘That’s true. Look, can I leave you my number in case she comes home. If you could just let me know if she does so I can stop worrying about her that would be great.’

  The woman sucked her teeth again. She leaned out to look down at her own front door. ‘I ain’t coming all the way down there for that. Just stick it through the letterbox, yeah? I know where it is then, if I need it. She’s out on some bender. She’ll be having a beer and she’ll come home when the party’s over, you see if I’m right.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s all it is. We just want to be sure.’

  ‘I get that. She’s got some ex-husband. She talks about him a lot. I think they still talk. She might be with him, whatever. He’s the man to talk to. I don’t know who he is or where he lives but I think he’s somewhere round here. Talk to him. I ain’t no babysitter. If she comes home, she comes home. She’s an adult, ain’t she?’

  ‘She is. Thanks for your help.’

  The window was closed without another word. Maddie and Rhiannon carried on knocking doors. They did all the houses that were in view of Lorraine’s front door. The story seemed to be the same: no one knew her well but they all knew she liked a drink.

  They were soon back in the car.

  ‘There’s not much else we can do tonight, is there?’

  ‘Do we know where the ex-husband lives?’

  ‘We do. Someone’s already been round there.’

  ‘I’d go back. He seems like the best person to me to give us a bit of insight into her life. That’s got to be how you find people, don’t you think?’

  Rhiannon chuckled. ‘I don’t know. That’s why I came to you, remember? You’re the expert!’

  ‘Ah yes, I keep forgetting that. Well, then, that’s what we should do next.’

  ‘You want to do it now? You were supposed to finish hours ago.’

  ‘I was. I’m living in a Premier Inn, Rhiannon. I am in no rush to go back to an oversized bed in a fog of purple. And this feels like police work. I get the feeling I should cling onto that.’

  ‘I’ll call up FCR for an address then.’

  Maddie watched in mild awe as Rhiannon changed the channel on her radio and then used all the right talk to get her enquiry across. The last radio handset Maddie could remember using was very different. The address came back as a ten-minute drive. Rhiannon started for it.

  Benjamin Humphries looked every bit the hassled dad as he answered the door on the third knock. Maddie could hear the baby before the door was opened.

  ‘What?’ he said. He was in cotton trousers and a vest top with a brown-stained muslin thrown over his shoulder.

  ‘Sorry to bother you, Mr Humphries. I know you reported Lorraine missing and we were just following up. Can we talk to you for just a second?’

  ‘Again?’ he snapped. ‘You’d better come in.’ Benjamin turned away and made straight for the source of the noise. The crying was much louder and more cutting when Maddie stepped into the house. Benjamin picked up a baby that was wearing just a nappy and commenced with swaying from side-to-side while jigging at the same time. The TV played cartoons in the background. Some screwed up pieces of toast littered the floor around his feet. Maddie guessed they had come from a Peppa Pig themed plate that was on the low table. This was her idea of hell.

  The baby settled down enough for Rhiannon to ask a question. ‘You reported Lorraine missing, is that right? Or should I call her Larry?’

  ‘What? Larry? No, that’s what her piss-head mates call her, I think. No, it’s Lorraine and, yes, I reported her. She was supposed to come round and see our daughter. She gets supervised access. She missed the first visit, which wasn’t a massive surprise — I mean, even though she’s been better recently. Then she missed the second one and I knew something was wrong. My first thought was that she had probably drunk herself to death in some gutter somewhere.’

  ‘But you don’t believe that anymore?’

  ‘If it was eight weeks ago I probably wouldn’t have even called. I might have tried to find her myself for a bit, or just waited for her to turn up with her latest excuse. These last eight weeks, though, she’s been sober. And I mean sober. Something clicked with her. She’s told me before that she’s been off the drink but you can always tell. You don’t have to live with an alcoholic long to know when they’ve been drinking. She was clean. I thought . . . well, I dunno what I thought. That she might be getting somewhere maybe.’

  ‘So this is out of character?’

  ‘Going missing? Well, no. You lot should already know she goes missing a lot. I’ve reported her before, when we used to live together. She would go missing for a few days at a time fairly regular. But I think this is out of character now. For the first time in a long time I don’t think she’s somewhere drunk.’

  ‘Does she have friends who she spends time with?’ Maddie said. ‘Is there a man on the scene?’

  ‘Not that I know of. Her life has been chaos for a long time. She would spend time with anybody who could get her a drink — she wouldn’t care who. I got the impression these last eight weeks that she’s b
een a lot more insular. When she beat it before she locked herself in. She had to. She only goes out for her meetings.’

  ‘Meetings?’ Maddie said.

  ‘AA meetings. Alcoholics Anonymous.’

  ‘How often are they?’

  ‘Weekly, up the top end of Canterbury. Sturry area. They’re in a church hall on the main drag. I can’t remember the name of the church it’s attached to but you’ll probably pass it on the way back out. It’s every Friday. They help her, to be honest.’

  ‘Sounds like it. Alcohol dependency can lead to money troubles. Do you know if Lorraine was in any financial trouble?’

  ‘I know she doesn’t have any money if that’s what you mean. She’s always been hand to mouth, that woman. When she got her benefits, she always tended to hand them straight to the nearest off-licence. She might have saved something up over these last eight weeks or so but I doubt it. Something else usually takes over. The last time she quit the drink she started chain smoking. That’s not a cheap pastime these days, is it?’ The baby offered another whimper. Her eyes had closed, but Maddie could see that they were now rolling open. Sure enough, she started to mewl again. Maddie thought she was building up to another full-blown wail.

  ‘It certainly isn’t. Would she borrow money if she needed it? From people she knew, or maybe people she didn’t?’

  ‘No. I’ve never known her to. And I can’t see anyone lending her money. You wouldn’t need to spend long with her to realise you weren’t getting it back, no matter what you did.’