The Stalker's Song

by Georgia Brown

  ‘Good afternoon, ladies,’ he greeted us with a beatific smile. I saw a portly, late middle-aged gentleman with round, pink cheeks above a grey and white streaked beard. I thought he looked rather like a garden gnome as he ushered us through into a large, airy room.

  He invited Pauline to sit in a chair on one side of the room and said he was quite happy for her to remain to observe the session. His friendly and reassuring manner was soothing and I began to feel I was in good hands relaxd a little.

  It was all very strange. After the preliminaries, during which I gave him the background and told him what I wanted to achieve, most of which we’d gone through on the phone when I first made the appointment, he asked me to take a seat in a reclining dentist-type chair.

  Once settled in the chair, I looked around the rather dull room. Drab sage green walls were the backdrop for a couple of Green filing cabinets, next to which stood a lovely antique oak desk, eighteenth century if I wasn’t mistaken, with leather inlay on the top and carved legs. I met Pauline’s gaze and she stuck her tongue out at me, trying to make me giggle to lighten the mood. It worked.

  Mr Blacker sat himself down in a small burgundy leather chair, next to me.

  ‘No need to be nervous,’ he said in his mellifluous tones, noticing my shaky hands. ‘You’ve come to me for help, so let’s see what we can do.’ Smiling reassuringly, he asked me to close my eyes and relax back into the chair, which I did.

  In a quiet, soothing voice, he took me right back to my birth, telling me to be proud of my enormous achievement in being conceived in the first place He told me the sperm that helped make me was the fastest swimmer out of millions of sperm, all competing for the same egg. So, against all the odds, I had been born.

  ‘That means we’re all born winners,’ he told me. ‘We’ve beaten all the odds and we’re here.’ His voice held a note of joy at this wonder.

  I was vaguely aware of being in the present, in his room, and of Pauline sitting quietly in the corner, yet I wasn’t there completely. My mind was going to strange places. He gradually brought me forward, in stages, through my life until we reached the events in Barbados. I talked about waving Fiona off, then going back down the steps, then standing by the sea wall, watching the moon and the fishing boats bobbing in the sea. Then... feelings of agitation and panic... I knew I was lashing out but couldn’t control myself... then I found myself returning to the present. I could hear Mr Blacker’s soothing voice, waking me, calming me. His gentle, professional manner had the effect of quickly banishing my agitation, and soon my heartbeat returned to normal.

  ‘We can try again in a few days, if you want to, Carol,’ he told me, once I was calm. ‘But I don’t think it’s going to work for you. Sometimes the brain doesn’t want you to remember something because it’s too traumatic for you to deal with. My honest opinion, is that you should let things take their course. If your memory is to return, it will do so in its own time. And if it never returns, so be it.’

  I felt despondent and disappointed, yet, paradoxically, relieved that I didn’t have to face the truth just yet. Pauline held my arm as we returned to the car.

  ‘That was so frightening, watching you. Everything was fine until you got to the part where you were standing at the sea wall. Then you got very upset. You were screaming and thrashing about, obviously terrified.’ Pauline stopped walking and turned to face me, ‘Please tell me you’re not going to try again.’

  ‘Screaming? I didn’t realise. But the feeling of terror was so awful. I don’t want to go through that again. So, I think I’ll take the therapist’s advice and leave it alone.

  ‘Phew. Thank God for that,’ Pauline wiped her brow with a dramatic gesture. ‘I couldn’t go through that again. Now let’s just get you home. I think we could both do with a strong cup of coffee.’

  Just after six, a white Nissan crunched up the drive, and I watched from the window as DCI Brown unfurled his long legs as he emerged from the car, before standing to his full height. Wearing a dark short overcoat, a striped scarf around his neck, he was an impressive sight. I felt a frisson of interest, the first since Peter.

  ‘Hello, Carol,’ said Louis, when I answered the door. ‘Good to see you looking well. I think you’ve met DI James Phillips?’

  ‘Of course. Hi James. Please come in.’ I opened the door wide and felt the icy blast of the December air rush in. ‘Cold enough for you both?’ I asked as I led them through to the sitting room. Fiona had taken the opportunity to go out with Pauline and a few other girlfriends. I would have liked to join them; have a normal night with the girls, for once. It felt like ages since I’d had fun.

  ‘I must say, you’re looking a lot better than you did the last time we saw you,’ said the DI. ‘How are you coping?’

  ‘Well, I’ll cope much better once you’ve caught whoever did this to me,’ I touched the scar on my face, flinching slightly at the feel of it. I noticed Louis staring at me and caught a fleeting glimpse of something - compassion? interest? pass briefly across his face.

  ‘Well, that’s what we intend to do,’ said the DI. ‘Do you mind if we ask you some more questions?’

  ‘Would you like coffee before we start?’

  Once we were seated, with steaming mugs of coffee in front of us, DCI Brown spoke. ‘The team at Newcastle have kept us up to date with events over here, Carol. Can you tell us about your flashbacks. We understand you’ve had two now?’

  I explained about the first flashback which had woken me up. ‘And then it happened again, when I was walking on the beach, the same flashback. I could suddenly see the silhouette of a man in the bathroom in the villa. It was terrifying.’ I went on to describe it in detail.

  ‘So you still can’t see him, or recognise his voice?’

  ‘No. I wish I could. Against Gayle’s advice, I saw a hypnotherapist today, but it didn’t help. Too traumatic. I freaked out and the hypnotherapist had to bring me out of it straight away. So, I’m no further forward I’m afraid.’ I saw them exchange a glance, before the DCI spoke.

  ‘Hypnotherapy doesn’t always work, and I’m with Gayle on this one. It can be quite a dangerous thing to do. I hope you’re not going to try again?’ He sounded quite stern.

  ‘Well, I thought it was worth a try,’ I said, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl.

  ‘Going back to the flashbacks.’ the DCI began, subtly changing the subject. ‘If they’re accurate, the perpetrator is tall, well-built and English-speaking. We’re planning to interview a number of people from your contact list whilst we’re over here, and we’ll be asking everyone for voluntary DNA samples. The local boys are going to help us. It’s looking more than likely that the perpetrator was not local to Barbados, which backs up your belief that it’s someone from England.

  We’ve now ruled out most of the people interviewed in Barbados. We believe it’s possible that you were followed out there, perhaps by someone using a false passport.’

  ‘Your former husband sounds a strange character. Is there any possibility in your mind that it could be him?’ asked the DI.

  ‘I didn’t think him capable of violence like that. But, Gayle’s told me he has a conviction for GBH, from way back. I wasn’t aware of that.’

  ‘That apart, he is ex-SAS. He can hardly be sweetness and light. Anyway, he’s the first on our list to interview. What about your business partner, Rupert, what’s he like?’ he pushed his hair out of his eyes.

  ‘Well... he’s gay, so he certainly wouldn’t be interested in me, sexually.’

  The DCI took over, ‘You’ve had some time now to think about all of this, Carol. Has anything new occurred to you? Is there anyone at all that you are remotely concerned about? Anyone who has ever made you feel uncomfortable?’ he raised his chin, stroking it with his right hand.

  ‘The only person I know who hates me is Jack, Fiona’s brother. But you’ve ruled him out. I really can’t think of anyone else – and I think about it all the time, b
elieve me.’

  ‘There’s something else we’d like to check. If the perpetrator did follow you out to Barbados... and that’s still a big ‘if’, how would he know you were going to be there? We’ve asked the Newcastle police to check your house for bugs, including your computer and phone. We could be dealing with a stalker here, so best to be thorough. Technicians will be here in the morning to do a sweep.’

  ‘You think my house might be bugged?’ Such a possibility hadn’t occurred to me and I was aghast.

  ‘It’s just a precaution,’ said Louis, putting his hand up, palm forward. ‘Just something we need to rule out, so don’t panic.’ His deep voice was reassuring.

  ‘We’ve been briefed on what happened last night, when the security light was triggered. There’s no evidence right now to connect that with the events in Barbados, so the local police are dealing with it, but obviously we’re liaising very closely with them. The security arrangements they’ve put in place should keep you safe until things are resolved.’

  After they left, I found myself feeling even more apprehensive and fearful than before. Was I being stalked? Was someone watching my every move? I felt sick with fear and prayed that they would find him.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  I sat nursing a plastic cup of hot coffee, hardly able to believe what I was hearing. Fiona was beside me, both of us sitting opposite Detective Superintendent Mike Jensen in his office, at Newcastle Central Police Station. On the left were the two detectives from Barbados. Gayle, who was seated next to the Superintendent, was fiddling, nervously I thought, with her locket. DCI Patsy Mayne was next to her, her red hair glinting in a shaft of sunlight coming through the window behind her. A man I didn’t recognise was next to Patsy.

  Gayle had phoned me when I was out walking with Fi, and asked if we would call by the station on our way back home. It seemed an unusual request, as Gayle usually came to me, but we complied, curious as to why we’d been summoned.

  Earlier, police technicians had turned up at the house to search for bugs. We’d gone for our walk, leaving them to it, and I wondered if that’s what this was about. But, I wasn’t expecting the bombshell that DS Jensen tossed into my lap.

  ‘I’m afraid I have something unsettling to tell you,’ he said, looking at me steadily over the top of dark-rimmed reading glasses. There was a pause. ‘Our technicians have found hidden cameras in your house. Highly sophisticated equipment, clearly planted by somebody who knows what they’re doing.’

  ‘What..? Where..?’ I exchanged a horrified glance with Fiona.

  ‘In the conservatory and in the sitting room, although they believe that particular one has malfunctioned. Also, in your bedroom, and in the bathroom.’

  I was stunned. ‘What? My God, he’s been watching us? Even in the bathroom?’ I put my coffee on the desk, my hands shaking. ‘How did he get into the house to put them there? How long have they been there? Oh God...’ I felt violated, thinking of all that he must have seen. ‘He must be sick.’

  ‘I know this is an awful shock for you, Mrs Barrington. I’m afraid it looks as though we could be dealing with a stalker here.’ He paused, no doubt to let his words sink in, before continuing. ‘Richard here – sorry, I haven’t introduced you. This is Richard Smith, a criminal psychologist who assists us with certain cases.’

  I looked at the tall, thin man, who nodded at me, noting the side parting in his short dark hair, and rimless glasses. He reminded me very much of Jacob Rees-Mogg and spoke in the same cultured tones.

  ‘We’ve been discussing this case,’ continued the Superintendent, ‘examining events to date and it’s Richard’s professional opinion that the assault in Barbados was most likely carried out by the same person who planted the surveillance equipment in your home. It has the hallmarks of a predatory stalker.’

  ‘But,’ I interrupted, ‘surely I’d know if I was being stalked? Nobody’s made contact...’

  ‘Not this kind of stalker, Mrs Barrington,’ Richard Smith interrupted. ‘This type is a sexual predator, often going after complete strangers, or casual acquaintances. He’s the most dangerous type of stalker.’

  I looked at him, aghast.

  ‘They research their victims, sometimes over a long period of time, before making their carefully planned move. The stalking is foreplay to them, giving them a sense of control and power over the victim. The goal is the sexual attack. It’s the violent sexual fantasies that they engage in while researching, planning and following the victim that really gets them off as they prepare for the ultimate thrill – the sexual assault itself. He can take delight in the details, deciding how long to prolong the suspense, rehearsing the attack, fantasising about the victim’s response. This breed of stalker is particularly dangerous when spurned.’

  I was feeling numb and having difficulty getting my head around it. I realised Richard Smith was still speaking to me.

  ‘The predatory stalker is usually a wolf in sheep’s clothing; when caught he is often proclaimed by those who knew him as the least likely of perpetrators. Friends are left stunned and disbelieving.’

  ‘But... are you sure? Isn’t all this supposition?’

  ‘As I said, this situation has all the hallmarks,’ he sounded pompous. ‘We can only be absolutely certain once he’s caught.’

  ‘But...’ I began.

  ‘We’re going to work with Louis and James here to resolve this case,’ the superintendent interjected, putting his elbows on the desk and leaning towards me. ‘The stalking and planting of surveillance equipment is taking place here, so we will investigate. Once the culprit is apprehended, and there’s evidence linking him to Barbados, which we fully expect to find, he’ll be extradited there to face trial.’ Sitting back in his chair, he continued, ‘Your computer and mobile will probably also have been compromised. They’re working on your computer right now, and if you let me have your phone, we’ll get that checked too.’

  I felt almost paralysed with fright at the thought of someone preying on me, watching me. It was too much to take in. I got my phone out of my pocket, and slowly handed it over. ‘But, why? Why me?’

  Rees-Mogg lookalike replied. ‘There’ll be no emotional attachment to you. He won’t be in love with you, or anything like that. For reasons of his own, he has selected you, but for him it’s all about his need for dominance and control, and the gratification of sadistic sexual desires.’

  I shuddered. ‘How sure are you about the link between the surveillance and the attack in Barbados?’

  He explained the rationale. ‘The assault in Barbados was a sadistic, sexual attack, probably interrupted, as no actual rape took place. The assailant would be enraged at not being able to fulfil his fantasy and that may have triggered the brutal end to the attack. Now that surveillance equipment has been found in your home, it is obvious that someone is watching you; following your every move. And he may have been doing so for a long time. The flashbacks you’ve been experiencing - the words he used – “Hello Carol, I’ve waited a long time for this” all add up to the likelihood of one very dangerous Predator Stalker being responsible. In my view, the chances of two separate people doing these things to one person is so remote as to be discountable.’

  Gripped with overwhelming fear, I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I tried again. ‘So what happens next?’

  ‘With your permission,’ the Superintendent replied, ‘we want to leave his surveillance equipment in place for the time being. We don’t want to alert him yet to the fact that we know about it. It might give us the opportunity to feed him false information, which could help to trap him. I know it’s a lot to ask, Carol, but we’d like you to carry on as normal. As if the cameras weren’t there. I think we could disable the one in the bathroom – it’ll seem that it’s just malfunctioned, like the one in the sitting room, if that helps?’

  ‘I can’t take all this in.’ I whispered, looking at Fiona.

  ‘Me, neither.’ sh
e whispered, shaking her head.

  ‘We’ll be with you every step of the way, to help you through this.’ Gayle offered. That was some comfort, but not much.

  We made our way home in a daze, both of us trying to process the devastating information we’d just been given.

  The next couple of weeks were very difficult for us, to put it mildly. Fiona and I tried to act as normal as possible, and anything we didn’t want overheard, we said to each other away from the areas of the house under surveillance. It’s hard to describe my feelings. When the safety of your own home is compromised, you’ve got nowhere to run to, to get away from things. Nowhere to hide. I was trying to stay strong, but I was scared every waking minute. I was terrified every time I left the house too, certain I was being followed. It felt as though I was losing my mind. I was living in a state of constant terror, knowing someone evil was out to get me.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  ‘Saul Harrison?’ DCI Brown looked at the man who’d answered the door, noting his height and build. ‘I’m DCI Brown and this is DI Phillips, Royal Barbados Police. We’re making some routine enquiries about a recent incident and would like to ask you a few questions. May we come in?’

  Saul shrugged, before grunting his assent and leading them into a fairly large open-plan kitchen/dining room. It was tastefully decorated, but very untidy, with unwashed dishes on most of the surfaces and a pile of clothes on the floor.

  ‘Do you live here on your own? the DI asked, glancing around.

  ‘Yes,’ said Harrison, shortly. ‘Is this about what happened to Carol?’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ the DI asked sharply.

  ‘My daughter told me what happened to her mother,’ he replied calmly, a note of sarcasm in his voice.

  ‘Can you tell us where you were on the night of 29 November?’

  ‘Well, I certainly wasn’t in Barbados, if that’s what you’re asking,’ he said in an insolent tone.