The Stalker's Song

by Georgia Brown

  Gayle was not impressed, and sounded quite stern as she responded. ‘Nothing at all. In any event, a private detective would only get in the way of the investigation. I can’t see that anything useful would be achieved by hiring one. And it could potentially do a lot of harm. The Barbados police are carrying out a thorough investigation. There’s really no need for anyone else to be involved.’

  ‘Well, thank God they’re coming over. I need to know something is being done here,’ she paused before continuing. ‘I’m also thinking of seeing a hypnotherapist, to see if my full memory can be recovered by that method. What do you think?’

  Gayle sighed. ‘Again, not a good idea. It can be a very risky thing to do. On top of that, any ‘evidence’ found under hypnosis would be most unlikely to be accepted by a court of law. It would be strongly objected to by the defence. On balance, I think it would do more harm than good.’

  ‘Well, I need to do something positive, Gayle. I refuse to cower in the corner, just waiting for him to get me.’ Carol sounded obstinate.

  Gayle hoped Carol wouldn’t take her idea of seeing a hypnotherapist any further, but suspected she might. She’d developed a liking for Carol, admiring her strength in dealing with the attack, and her determination now not to sit back and be a victim. Having gone to pieces when she lost Peter, she seemed to have gained some inner strength that was helping her to cope now, with what, after all, would have completely demolished most people. Gayle hypothesised that because Carol had ultimately come through the worst thing that could happen to her - losing Peter - she had somehow gained the ability to deal with anything else life threw at her. I should have been a psychologist she thought.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  ‘Dusty? Hi, it’s Tim. How are you?’ Tim had christened me Dusty years ago, when he found out my maiden name had been Miller.

  ‘Tim! How lovely to hear from you. I’m good thanks, what about you?’ I was so pleased to hear his familiar voice.

  Tim had kept in touch, and visited me fairly regularly since Peter died. He and Peter had been like brothers, and Tim was devastated at his loss. He told me he still suffered nightmares about that day on Helvellyn. As leader of the hiking group, he felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility for Peter’s death. Charlie had said much the same thing, and I told Tim what I’d told him, that neither of them was to blame. There was nothing anyone could have done to prevent it. The group had collectively agreed to descend Helvellyn by the more difficult route over Striding Edge, as opposed to the less exposed Swirral Edge. They were all experienced hill walkers and wanted to take the more challenging route. Tim could not have foreseen that Peter would lose his footing on the infamous Chimney descent and plunge off the ridge to his death.

  ‘Will you be in this evening? I thought I might pop by to see how you’re doing, on my way back from the office. About eighteen hundred hours – I mean six o’clock?’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll be here. Look forward to seeing you.’

  He arrived on the dot of six and I remembered Peter telling me that Tim was the most punctual person in the world, probably due to the twelve years he spent in the Royal Air Force. A very tall man, he stood about six feet four, with short brown hair, slightly peppered with grey strands. Always smart, this time he was wearing a beautifully cut pale grey suit with a crisp white shirt and red tie. He was quite handsome, with aquiline features, and despite having left the RAF some ten years or so ago, still had a military bearing.

  He seemed quite emotional to see me. We hadn’t met up since the events in Barbados, although he’d phoned and sent flowers. He hugged me warmly, then stood back to examine my face, tentatively tracing the still livid scars with one finger, concern written all over his face.

  ‘You poor thing, Dusty. I just can’t believe what shit you’ve been through this past year or so. It’s more than most people could stand. How on earth are you coping with it all?’ He looked shaken at the sight of me.

  ‘Oh, I’m getting by. Come and have a seat and I’ll get us a drink.’ I poured two large G&T’s and we sat for a while, by the garden windows, catching up on things. Tim told me the group had resumed their regular hikes once again, after a long gap following Peter’s accident, when they hadn’t had the heart to go on meeting up every two weeks as though nothing had changed. A couple of members had moved away or dropped out for other reasons, but most of ‘Team Ryan’ was intact, he told me.

  ‘We’re planning another fundraiser in three weeks. Snowdonia, this time, but it won’t be the same without Peter. He was such a character, larger than life; he’s a real miss.’

  ‘He would want the group to carry on, Tim. The fundraising’s for such a good cause. It’s been over a year now, although sometimes I still can’t believe he’s gone. When I wake up in the morning, just for a few seconds I feel happy, then it all comes flooding back…’ To my surprise, my bottom lip was trembling and Tim jumped up and came to sit beside me. He took my hands in his.

  ‘You’ve been through such a lot. It’s just not bloody fair. As if losing Peter wasn’t bad enough, some bloody maniac attacks you just as you’re putting your life back together! How are you really coping? The truth now.’ He looked at me intently.

  His face was full of concern and suddenly, unbidden, I started to cry. I can deal with anything except sympathy and kindness I thought. Then, I took a deep breath and words just poured out of me. I told him about the flashbacks; my belief that the attacker knew me, and spoke perfect English; my fear that he might come back to finish the job.

  Tim looked quite shaken, and put his arms around me, holding me to him until I’d calmed down a little. I fished a tissue from my sleeve, and wiped my eyes, then blew my nose.

  ‘What have the police got to say about all this? Surely they can offer you some protection?’ he asked, sitting back, playing with the signet ring he always wore on his right hand.

  ‘Some officers are coming over from Barbados. It’s their case, so the hands of the UK police are tied, apparently - lack of jurisdiction. But, the police here have put some security measures in place. They decided to do that when I was discharged from the RVI, because my case attracted so much media interest. You should have seen all the reporters hanging around outside.’ I took a sip of my drink. ‘They’re going to keep the security in place until things are resolved. I’ve got a couple of panic buttons, with a direct line to the police, and I already have security lights and cameras in place at both the front and back of the house.’

  ‘Well, that’s something,’ Tim pursed his lips, sounding relieved. ‘They must be taking this threat very seriously. They don’t use expensive manpower for nothing.’

  ‘Yes, they’re giving me a lot of support. They’ve assigned an FLO - a Family Liaison Officer to look after me; Gayle. She’s a great help. She comes to see me every day and I can contact her any time. Also, Linda comes most days. She’s a counsellor with Victim Support and she’s lovely. Pauline often stays, and Fiona’s staying with me for as long as I need her, so I’m not on my own. Julia was here, but thankfully we persuaded her to go and spend some time with her friends.’

  ‘How is she coping with all this?’

  ‘She’s better for being away from things for a while. It’s been so hard on her.’

  ‘And where’s Fiona? It’s ages since I’ve seen her?’

  ‘She’s gone to see her mother. She’ll be back soon.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear she’s staying with you. I don’t like to think of you on your own, especially now.’

  ‘I’ve made an appointment to see a hypnotherapist tomorrow, to see if my memory can be recovered that way.’ I told Tim. ‘Gayle’s advised against it, she says any evidence gathered that way would be inadmissible. But I think it’s worth a try. If I do remember who did it, I’m sure enough evidence will be found to take him to court. I need to know who did this to me. Pauline’s going with me.’

  ‘Really?’ Tim’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Well, let’s hope
it produces some results. You must let me know. And you are aware that if there’s anything at all I can do to help, you just have to ask.’

  With that, he gave me a huge hug and a peck on the cheek and took his leave.

  Soon after I’d shown him out, Fiona returned, grumbling about her mother, as usual.

  ‘She always picks fault with me. I don’t know what’s wrong with her. Tonight, she’s blaming me for Jack staying in Barbados for so long. Like, Hello? How’s that my fault? I’m not even there. Oh, she does irritate me. Can you wonder I don’t want to stay with her?’

  ‘Well, do you feel better for getting that off your chest?’ I asked, laughing, and she began to laugh too. ‘Time for another G and T.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  The man made his way stealthily through the trees. Enough light filtered through the overhead branches from a nearly-full moon to aid his progress. He knew he was taking a big risk, with Fiona still there with her, but he couldn’t wait. Her full memory could return at any time, and then she would be lost to him forever. Since finding out that she was still alive, she had been all he could think of. Thoughts of her were all-consuming.

  Dressed in black, he felt like a commando on manoeuvres, as he crept through the trees at the back of the houses. At the thought of seeing Carol again, he felt a surge of adrenalin.

  Soon, peering through the bushes, he could see the house, set back about fifty feet from the fence. The lights were still on, so they hadn’t gone to bed yet. Cautiously he made his way up the side fence, where the trees and shrubs provided the thickest cover. His plan was to scale the fence then hide in the shrubs until all the lights were out and the house quiet. He would leave it an hour before making his move. Then he would break in through the side door, into the garage and then into the house. He had chloroform to deal with Fiona, but Carol he was planning to take his time with. He got a hard-on just thinking about her.

  That morning, when Carol and Fiona were on the beach, he paid a visit to the house and disabled the security light at the back, so he was confident he wouldn’t trigger the motion sensor. With no nosy neighbours to worry about, it had been almost too easy to scale the fence, get into her garden and work on the lights, undisturbed. He’d worn a plastic mask of an old man’s face, just in case he was caught on camera, but he was pretty certain he’d avoided it.

  This time, wearing his black balaclava, he peered over the fence. Through the shrubbery he could see the two women, sitting in the conservatory. Carol was using her hands, in that way she had, to emphasise a point she was making. He hoped they’d be going off to bed soon. It was past their usual bedtime. After watching them for a few minutes, he decided to get into position. Confident he couldn’t be seen in the darkness, he scaled the fence, intending to wait in the dense shrubbery on the other side. Suddenly, he heard a click and the garden was lit up, as bright as daylight.

  SHIT. He froze, then scrambled back the way he’d come, hoping they hadn’t seen him. Hurrying back through the trees, tripping over roots in his haste, he retraced his steps to the street and the safety of the car, pulling off his balaclava as he went. On reaching the street, he slowed down to a walking pace, inwardly cursing. I must have missed a second security light. I’m getting careless in my old age. Shit, shit, shit.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  We were sipping our drinks. Adele’s 21 was streaming loudly and Fiona was singing her heart out.

  ‘Never mind, I’ll find someone like you,’ she warbled. ‘I wish nothing but the best for youoo...’ Suddenly the floodlight came on outside, lighting up the garden as bright as day. Fiona swore and jumped to her feet, eyes like saucers, pointing into the garden.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ she yelled. ‘I’m sure I saw someone... in the bushes..’

  ‘Where?’ I leapt to my feet, peering into the garden. ‘Are you sure? I can’t see anything?’

  ‘There,’ she said, pointing to the shrubbery on the right hand side of the garden. ‘I’m sure I saw something move. I think I saw a figure.’

  ‘Could it have been an animal? We’ve got a lot of foxes around here.’ I studied the bushes, desperately hoping it was only an animal.

  ‘Well, I definitely saw movement.’ She pointed to the bushes again, her hand shaking.

  I reached for my mobile and hit the key to connect with the special number the police had given me to guarantee a rapid response. Within five minutes, two officers were checking the garden and searching around the dene, only to confirm that the intruder, if indeed there had been one, was long gone.

  ‘No sign of anyone, love. No footprints, nothing. Could’ve been a fox. Let’s have a look at the CCTV.’ We moved into the sitting room to watch the footage. The screen showed some movement of the shrubbery near the side fence, but there was no clear image and it was impossible to tell whether it was an animal or a person.

  Worryingly, though, the security men told me they’d discovered that it looked as though the cable to one of the security lights had possibly been tampered with.

  Gayle arrived a little later, having been alerted by her colleagues, and joined us in the sitting room. Taking out her notebook, she asked Fiona to describe exactly what she’d seen. Fiona, still a bit shaken, repeated what she’d told me.

  ‘So, you can’t be sure it was a person?’ Gayle probed.

  ‘Well, I assumed it was. The light came on and I saw movement in the bushes.’

  Gayle went into the hall to speak with her boss on her mobile, then came back into the sitting room.

  ‘Right, Carol. It may be nothing, but as a precaution, this is what we propose to do now. We’re going to assume that there may be a threat, because of the possible tampering of the security light. So, we’re going to have someone check the security lights around the house every day, starting tomorrow. If it was an intruder, he’s probably been scared off for now and may lie low for a while, but if he’s planning to come back, we’ll know about it in advance.’

  ‘Oh, heavens.’ I was a bit taken-aback.

  ‘We’ll get the checks in place and monitor the situation thereafter. Are you ok with that?’

  ‘Yes… but… what happens if the lights are tampered with again?’

  ‘We’ll put a plan of action in place if that happens. In the meanwhile, you’ve still got the panic alarms and you know the number to call in the event that you need to. These are just precautions. It might all be for nothing,’ Gayle said. ‘It could have been a fox or something else in the undergrowth. Animals are always triggering security lights – and damaging cables for that matter. But, better safe than sorry.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  He watched and listened as they all talked things through after his little mishap. The Fiona woman hadn’t actually seen him, and no-one was sure that it wasn’t an animal that had triggered the motion sensor. He was kicking himself for missing the second security light. It wasn’t like him to be so careless. He would lay low for a while, then take care of the lights properly. Meanwhile, he would monitor the cameras round the clock to ensure they weren’t on to him. He couldn’t be sure what was being said away from the conservatory – if only the fucking camera in the sitting room hadn’t fucking packed up. He banged his hand down, hard, on to his desk, in frustration.

  The Victim Support woman, Linda, was a frequent visitor, calling to see Carol almost every day, it seemed. Oh they did have some cosy little chats together. Linda was very good at drawing people out. He was fascinated by all the emotion she drew out of Carol, how she got her to bare her soul about her fears, and how much she still missed her husband. He was still none the wiser as to why she’d chosen to marry such an old man. True, he was very rich, but she wasn’t doing too badly herself, so she didn’t really need his money. He would never understand how she could throw herself away on him.

  Most of the chatting seemed to take place in the Garden Room (as Carol called it; to him it was a Conservatory) and he was relieved the camera in
there was still working. With the one in the sitting room no longer operational, his eavesdropping would have been up the spout if that one hadn’t been in place.

  He watched as the FLO came and went each day, but didn’t catch any further mention of his last aborted visit. All seemed to be quiet on the western front, and he decided it would soon be safe to pay a return visit.

  He was amused when he heard that the Barbados police were on their way over. Good luck to them, he thought to himself. Bring it on.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Early the following morning, I got a call from DCI Louis Brown. He and DI Phillips had arrived at Gatwick, from Barbados, and were on their way to Heathrow to catch their connecting flight to Newcastle.

  ‘We’ll need to catch up with the Newcastle guys first,’ he said in his deep voice. ‘Then we’ll need a few hours rest. Could we meet up early evening, say six-ish? We’ll come to your house if that’s ok?’

  Later that afternoon, I drove to Whickham, with Pauline, to keep my appointment with the hypnotherapist. I was filled with trepidation as we approached his consulting rooms, which were located above a solicitor’s office, just off the main road. I was sick with nerves at the thought of identifying my attacker, and gripped Pauline’s arm as we walked.

  We located the correct entrance from a brass plaque at the side of the doorway, which proclaimed A E Blacker, CMH MPNLP. After climbing a set of steep, rather narrow stairs, we found ourselves in a small, brightly lit reception area where I gave my name to an elderly lady, sporting a purple curly perm. In a soft Geordie accent, she asked us to take a seat while she buzzed through to let Mr Blacker know his patient had arrived. Moments later a door was opened on the far side of the room and Mr. Blacker emerged.