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

by K. A. Richardson

‘It’s Ben, right?’ he asked, disarming her shyness with his demeanour.

  ‘Yeah. I only found out the other day that we both work for North East Police. My boss has requested an attachment for me and I just wondered whether the request had made its way to you yet?’

  ‘I sent the acceptance back the other day. You’re booked to come over the day after tomorrow. Hadn’t Kevin passed the message on?’

  ‘No, but to be honest it’s been manic busy today and he was on rest days yesterday. It probably slipped his mind. That’s great, thanks, Jacob.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll see you then.’

  Jacob’s words sounded way to prim and proper. He found himself shaking his head as he watched Ben head past TJ on the stairs, and by the time TJ reached him, smiling gleefully, he knew she had overheard the exchange.

  ‘Hadn’t he passed the message on?’ mocked TJ in a posh voice, grimacing as he jokingly punched her in the arm.

  ‘She’s pretty,’ she said shrewdly, holding her arms out in surrender as he glared at her.

  ‘Don’t go there, sis, she’s a student.’

  ‘Nope. She’s a colleague, you work together. That means you already had relationship status before meeting here. So the fact she’s a student is beside the point.’

  Jacob sighed; he knew her logic couldn’t be argued with. Lord knew he’d tried enough over the years.

  ‘So how long do you two have working up close and personal?’

  He looked at his sister with what he hoped was his sternest parental stare, and failed miserably as he caught the sparkle of laughter in her eyes.

  ‘Two days. Are we done here? Think we can go get some food now?’

  He knew his tone sounded exasperated but he didn’t need ribbing right now. On TJs nod, he gathered his stuff together and followed her back up the stairs.

  Wow, that smile. TJ’s right, Ben is really pretty, Maybe...

  Pushing the thoughts back, he sighed. She wouldn’t like me anyway.

  5th June, 2120 hours – O’Byrne residence, Sunderland

  As Ben entered the house, she had the feeling that something was very wrong. She couldn’t put her finger on it. It wasn’t often she had feelings like that, not anymore. They had been more prevalent when she was younger but she had grown out of believing intuition was a thing to be acted on.

  That belief was challenged today, though. The lead-like feeling had started in her gut a few days ago and had been increasing in weight ever since. Even the medication she took for the increased bile production hadn’t stopped the severe indigestion.

  You just need to relax.

  Berating herself didn’t help either though. She shook her head as she wandered in through the front door, latching it behind her and locking it with the key. As she took her coat off, Aoife came from the kitchen and into the hall.

  She looks so tired lately. I wish she would tell me what’s bugging her. This last week she’s aged about ten years.

  Resolving to get to the bottom of it, Ben smiled at her aunt and quietly said two words.

  ‘Family Meeting.’

  Aoife, knowing it was finally time, nodded slowly and followed Ben through to the kitchen. Stalling, she made them both a brew, setting the steaming cups on the table and sitting down.

  She couldn’t even speak, the lump in her throat felt so big it hurt to breathe. Taking a hint from Ben’s arsenal for dealing with difficult situations, she pictured Grace in her mind, smiling widely.

  It didn’t work.

  Aoife’s eyes filled with tears as she stared at the girl who wasn’t her daughter but who was in her heart, and unable to help herself she started to sob.

  Aoife saw Bens concern as her niece knelt in front of her and pulled her close, and she dropped her head to Ben’s shoulder as her body shook with wracking sobs. She heard Ben’s breath catch, and knew she was crying too. It provided little comfort and Aoife felt guilty that she was responsible.

  After a few minutes, Aoife allayed her crying to a series of hiccups, still holding her niece tightly.

  Ben’s voice sounded muffled as she finally asked her aunt what was wrong.

  Aoife took a deep breath, holding Ben’s at arms’ length so she could make eye contact whilst she told her.

  ‘I’ve been wanting to tell you this for days. It’s just been so hard, I didn’t want to upset you with everything you have on your plate at the moment.’

  Ben visibly straightened her back, and stretched her shoulders, as if steeling herself for what was to come.

  Aoife’s voice broke, but she managed to get the words out.

  ‘I have cancer.’

  ‘No,’ whispered Ben, the colour draining from her face. ‘How bad? You’re fighting it, right? Aoife? Please.’

  Ben’s voice was shocked, her fear permeated the air in the kitchen, and it felt thick and clogged with emotion. The overwhelming ache Aoife hadn’t been able to shake, suddenly faded, there was no way this was going to beat her. She wouldn’t let it. She had a family, damn it. A family who needed her.

  Steadying herself further, she gave Ben the full details.

  ‘I have an appointment to see my consultant tomorrow but I think I’ll be scheduled in shortly to have the lump removed. From what I understand, this tells the surgeon how bad it is and how best to treat it. It’s usually radiotherapy, or chemotherapy. Sometimes it’s both. He said the lump is small, only about three centimetres in diameter, so he’s hopeful.’

  ‘How long have you known?’ Ben paused, she was obviously hurt that her aunt hadn’t told her before now. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you had a lump?’

  ‘I found the lump a couple of months ago. But I only found out it was cancer last week. The day of your meeting at the school. And I didn’t tell you because I thought it was nothing. I didn’t want you to worry. I’m sorry.’

  Ben shook her head. ‘I knew it. I knew something was wrong. I’ve had a bad feeling all week. Aoife, what can I do? You know I’ll help. I can reduce my hours at work, you won’t be able to look after Grace as much, and...’

  ‘Now you wait just a minute.’ Aoife was instantly annoyed. ‘Don’t you dare go writing me off yet, young lady. I am perfectly capable of carrying on as we are for the time being. The consultant said he will go over the ins and outs of the treatment plan tomorrow. I was going to ask if you would come with me, if you wouldn’t mind that is.’

  ‘Of course I will,’ Ben pulled her aunt back into a tight hug, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply I was writing you off. I’m just worried. I love you.’

  ‘We are going to get through this, Ben. You and me, we can cope with anything as long as we have each other’s support. You taught me that.’

  Aoife felt Ben plant a soft kiss on her forehead, and knew she understood as she asked, ‘What happens now?’

  ‘Now, you get your dinner which is in the microwave. You check on that wonderful baby asleep upstairs, and we deal with the cancer tomorrow. I will not let either of us dwell on the bad here. My consultant is positive, and it’s the only way I want to be. I should’ve told you earlier but that can’t be helped now. It’s going to take a lot more than a lump in my boob to take me away from my family. And if fate doesn’t like that, well he can stick it up his arse.’

  Ben couldn’t help but smile at her aunt; the sudden burst of angry determination had brought out her strong Irish accent and it was a rare occasion when Aoife used cuss words. She was glad to see her aunt’s fighting spirit coming out. I can’t believe she didn’t tell me.

  It was hard to stay positive but she knew her aunt needed her. Aoife didn’t deserve cancer, nobody did.

  The uneasy feeling in her stomach settled down, as if knowing what was wrong helped make it a little lighter. Everything was going to be OK. It had to be.

  Chapter Eight

  6th June, 0700 hours – Tunstall, Sunderland City Centre

  He sat in front of the computer screens, focussing on the images in front of him. He knew Clarice was th
e one, but he still hadn’t been able to stop watching the others. It gave him a buzz watching the women when he knew they didn’t even know, would never think for a second that a camera had been installed.

  Maybe when he was finished with Clarice he should have one of the others. Or maybe he should have one of them first, a starter course of sorts.

  With a mild frown, he shook his head.

  No.

  Nothing would detract from her. It all had to be perfect this time.

  He entered in the disconnection codes for the other four cameras, the screens suddenly going dark before he could change his mind.

  He had already decided where he would take her, the perfect location for their rendezvous. It had been Clarice’s carer who had provided the answer. A simple virus installed on the computers at the Outreach centre, an interceptor on the line as they had called the engineer and he was set to go. Fixing the virus had been easy, installing a couple of cameras also simple. The override for the alarm system had been harder but even that had been no real issue. He actually had access to several potential locations, but he knew this one would work the best. There was something about the Outreach Centre that made this personal. And personal was always good. He knew he wouldn’t stick around for long afterwards.

  Noting the positivity posters on the wall of the carer’s office, he shuddered in disgust.

  We’ll see how positive you are afterwards.

  Most of the preparation work was done. He was ready.

  Now he just had a couple more days to wait until D-Day; he smiled, D-Day was an apt description. D for Die. He had a little more time to watch her in her room, doing the things young women did when they thought no-one was watching.

  He was pleased she didn’t have a boyfriend. He hadn’t had to watch someone else defiling her – she was his now.

  And it would be his pleasure to show her where women stood in his life.

  The lopsided grin passed over his face, his scar glowing eerily in the ebbing light of his computer screens. The feeling of power made him harden instantly.

  As he watched her pull herself out of bed and stretch gracefully, he pulled himself free from his trousers, and slowly worked his hand up and down.

  This was going to feel so good.

  6th June, 1035 hours – Oncology Department, Sunderland Royal Hospital

  ‘Mrs O’Byrne?’ the nurse smiled softly as she motioned for Ben and Aoife to follow her through to the consultant’s room.

  He stood as they entered, his checked shirt freshly ironed with crisp creases, and his warm smile extending down his arm as he took Aoife’s hand and shook it, using his other hand at the small of her back, guiding her to the seat in front of the large oak table.

  Aoife sat in the chair beside Ben, barely even daring to breath. Ben’s hand on her knee was a silent but strong message of support. She put her hand over the top and squeezed gently.

  ‘How are you coping? It’s not easy I know,’ said the consultant.

  His voice was smooth, disarming; Aoife felt a little of her overwhelming desire to run fade. She was here to get sorted. She would not run away or bury her head in the sand, as much as she might want to.

  ‘I’m OK. Still finding it a little hard to believe if I’m honest. I want you to be truthful with me Dr Carmichael, don’t sugar-coat it, OK?’

  ‘OK,’ Arthur Carmichael leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, leaving his body language open. He was plainly experienced in dealing with patients. ‘At this stage we need to schedule in surgery to start, preferably as soon as possible. I actually have a cancellation tomorrow, if that’s not too soon for you. The nurse will see you after we’re done here and perform a pre-op assessment. What I’m hoping is that a lumpectomy will suffice. Do you know what that is?’

  At her nod, he continued, ‘From the scan last week it doesn’t appear to have spread to the lymph nodes and as you know it’s roughly three centimetres in diameter. The surgery will take out the lump and a margin of flesh from around the lump. This will then be sent to the pathology lab for testing which will ascertain whether the margin is clear of cancer cells. We’ll then know what stage we are dealing with and can prepare your treatment plan. We caught this early thanks to your diligence with your breast checks. I’m hopeful for the outcome here.’

  Aoife coughed a little, it was what she had expected after she had spent time researching, but it still scared the hell out of her.

  ‘Will I have to stay in hospital long?’

  ‘You should be out the day after surgery all being well. After the surgery though, you will need to take it easy for a few weeks, no lifting whatsoever using your left arm, so that means no housework, no driving, nothing that could constitute work, OK?’

  Aoife nodded again, glancing at Ben to see if she had any questions.

  Ben shook her head, her hand now holding her aunts tightly.

  Forcing a smile, her aunt added, ‘Well I guess it’s time to see the nurse for the pre-op.’

  6th June, 1605 hours – CSI Department, Sunderland City Centre Depot

  ‘Jacob? It’s Ben from Sunderland depot,’ Ben held the phone to her ear, chewing her bottom lip. She didn’t know how this would look, being scheduled for an attachment was no light thing, but it was important she was at the hospital with Grace when Aoife came out of surgery.

  ‘Hi, how are you?’ His voice sounded gruff, and if she was honest with herself, a little sexy.

  ‘I’m OK. Listen I know I’m due at HQ in the morning at 9 a.m. which is fine, but my aunt has just been diagnosed with breast cancer and has her surgery tomorrow afternoon, and I’ve got my little girl to pick up from school and have to get to the hospital. It’ll mean that I have to leave early but I completely understand if you feel you need to cancel my attachment and reschedule, or cancel completely if you see this as a –’

  ‘Whoa, slow down,’ interrupted Jacob. Ben could almost hear him smile down the phone, fully aware she had been babbling.

  ‘It’s fine, Ben. I’m not a monster you know. If you need to get away you get away, end of. Are you sure you can still come in prior to picking the bairn up from school? If your aunt needs you beforehand then we can reschedule for next week. It’s entirely up to you.’

  ‘No I should be OK, Jacob, thank you. I just need to get away mid-afternoon. The day after should be OK too; I’ve arranged for one of the other mums to pick Grace up from school and keep her until I finish work. We’ll go get my aunt after that, providing she’s fine to be released.’

  ‘OK, if you’re sure, Ben. Don’t worry if plans change. We can work around them. Sounds like you’re having a bit of a tough time at the moment.’

  Ben sighed down the phone, ‘Like you wouldn’t believe. Thanks again, Jacob, I’ll see you in the morning.’

  7th June, 0115 hours – Whitworth residence, Sunderland

  John felt his eyes blur as he stared at the screen. He hadn’t been surprised to realise there were sites dedicated to appeasing the morbid curiosity surrounding death and murder. There were in fact, dedicated sites showing the brutality of the bodies before the police had arrived and cordoned them all off, restricting views. It really was fascinating stuff.

  He just couldn’t see his way to going to bed yet. He felt a need to learn more, to perfect whichever was the most effective method for the next time. He had barely slept since killing Ann Caffrey, and tonight was not going to be any different.

  His son was still staying at Carolyn’s house, leaving him free to be on the internet all day if he wanted. Killing played on his mind, he found himself replaying kill methods in his head, acting out every method he had found with victims who were faceless, nameless shapes. On the rare occasion he managed to sleep, his dreams were filled with bloodshed and vacant eyes staring at him.

  He needed to see it for himself. It was growing stronger, almost out of control.

  He hadn’t even been to work today. He had phoned his boss and told him in a monotone voice t
hat he was sick.

  And he knew he was.

  It was no longer about putting his wife in her place, or any other woman for that matter. Now it was all about killing one, a very special one. The one of his choosing.

  He pulled his coat over his shoulders, and left the house.

  Chapter Nine

  7th June, 0850 hours – Digital Forensics Lab, Sunderland HQ

  Ben turned the key to the side entrance door at HQ and made her way inside. She’d been in plenty of times before, liaising with the submissions team as well as those in the photography and chemical labs. She knew the place inside out: its drab walls in need of a lick of paint, the carpets worn along the routes most used. The corridors were adorned with posters about Domestic Violence, latest police campaigns, and union issues. It had always been that way, was the same in the smaller stations too.

  She paused at the door to the digital forensics office, taking a deep breath. Get a grip already. Getting so nervous all the time is just plain silly. Pushing her shoulders back, she opened the door and entered.

  The office was combined with the lab: with one end of the room fully kitted out with screens and the gadgets the technicians used to recover the data required from seized items. She felt herself grin – it was most definitely not as hi-tech as the TV portrayed in the American cop dramas. But then reality never was. She had often had a giggle to herself watching the CSI shows where the forensics personnel entered scenes wearing high heels, their flowing locks left loose in a way that would contaminate any evidence picked up, and magically got an ident within minutes.

  Spotting Jacob working on something at the end of the office, she made her way down.

  ‘Ben, hi,’ he greeted, glancing up from the screen for a moment, ‘just give me a sec, and I’ll be with you.’

  Walking around the desk, she stood behind him, watching the computer screen.

  ‘The computer was seized from the house of a drug runner. I’ve created the two exact copies I need. This one’s the working copy. I’ve already catalogued the disk contents and I’m just setting up a keyword list to look for related files.’ He spoke quietly, concentrating on typing onto the black square in the middle of the screen.