Stalker
Stalker
Lisa Stone
Someone is always watching…
Derek Flint is a loner. He lives with his mother and spends his
evenings watching his clients on the CCTV cameras he has installed inside their homes. He likes their companionship – even if it’s through a screen.
When a series of crimes hits Derek’s neighbourhood, DC Beth Mayes begins to suspect he’s involved. How does he know so much about the victims’ lives? Why won’t he let anyone into his office? And what is his mother hiding in that strange, lonely house?
As the crimes become more violent, Beth must race against the clock to find out who is behind the attacks. Will she uncover the truth in time? And is Derek more dangerous than even she has guessed?
A spellbinding crime novel from the worldwide bestseller
Cathy Glass, writing as Lisa Stone.
‘Once you start you won’t be able to stop!’
Katerina Diamond, Sunday Times bestselling author of The Teacher
LISA STONE
Stalker
Copyright (#u777c9c04-e483-5d9b-ab36-67ae92eb85e6)
Published by Avon an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street,
London, SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2018
Copyright © Lisa Stone 2018
Cover photograph © Arcangel
Cover design © www.headdesign.co.uk (http://www.headdesign.co.uk) 2018
Lisa Stone asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008236724
Ebook Edition © June 2018 ISBN: 9780008236731
Version: 2018-05-09
PRAISE FOR LISA STONE (#u777c9c04-e483-5d9b-ab36-67ae92eb85e6)
‘The Darkness Withinhooked me from the start. Once you start you won’t be able to stop!’
Katerina Diamond, No.1 bestselling author of The Teacher
‘This is a cracking good read that had me hooked from the beginning until the end. Full of murders, spiritualistic intrigue and just a hint of romance. It is quick paced, extremely thought provoking and full of twists and turns. I didn’t want to put this book down.’
Amazon reviewer
‘Fantastic book, couldn’t turn the pages quickly enough!’
Amazon reviewer
‘A well-written and extremely addictive novel that will stick in your head long after putting it down.’
Amazon reviewer
‘I flew through The Darkness Within; it maintained a dark and gritty atmosphere whilst covering some rather disturbing subject matters. But despite there being some very emotive and hard to read scenes described, I raced through the pages desperate to know how it would end and I certainly wasn’t disappointed.’
Goodreads reviewer
‘A unique plot and storyline – I enjoyed the book immensely. It really makes you think.’
Goodreads reviewer
‘What a powerful novel. I have read all of Cathy Glass’s books and here she is writing under a new name Lisa Stone. I love the fact she has branched into crime thriller and I think she has done it really well.’
Goodreads reviewer
‘I really enjoyed this. Interesting and captivating story line, great characters and easy to read – not the subject matter which is difficult, dark and pretty violent, but the style of writing. A gripping thriller.’
Goodreads reviewer
‘The Darkness Within is certainly a dark and gripping read and one that will win over new fans as well as old.’
Goodreads reviewer
‘With areas that lead us to the dark depths of our own imagination, and parts so well described you could almost be in the same room, The Darkness Within is a struggle to leave unfinished.’
Amazon reviewer
‘Thank you Lisa Stone for making my long train journey feel like a ten minute ride! I will now look forward to your next book.’
Amazon reviewer
‘A great read. The author has a style of writing that makes the words just flow off the page and as the story develops it’s a difficult book to put down as you want to know how it’s all going to end.’
Amazon reviewer
‘Absolutely fantastic, I could not put it down. Cannot recommend this book highly enough. You will become addicted to this author.’
Amazon reviewer
‘An enjoyable chiller for the summer reading pile!’
Goodreads reviewer
‘I loved the premise, it appealed to the horror/sci-fi loving side of me. Lisa understands human relationships and the ugly side of people very well, and this shone through in her work.’
Amazon reviewer
‘Lisa Stone writes with a clear, uncomplicated style – dramatic and readable.’
Lovereading.com
‘Fast-paced and full of tension from the very first page.’
Blogspot.co.uk
‘This is an exceptionally well-written thriller.’
Waterstones 5* review
‘What an amazing book! I love a thriller but this is really something. It’d be great as a movie too!’
Twitter reviewer
‘Totally gripping.’
Facebook reviewer
‘Impossible to put down!’
Facebook reviewer
Dedication (#u777c9c04-e483-5d9b-ab36-67ae92eb85e6)
Acknowledgements: A big thank you to my editor, Phoebe, my literary agent, Andrew, and all the team at Avon, HarperCollins.
Security cameras are there to keep us safe, aren’t they?
Table of Contents
Cover (#uef78f30a-26a8-55cf-81be-61be5aa17d83)
Title Page (#u5e82721e-c817-5df3-ba5d-339a861641a4)
Copyright (#u53f91b37-55ee-58c8-8b31-b835628e7a21)
Praise for Lisa Stone (#uee453d47-f0fe-5993-a5e8-2d5d46701161)
Dedication (#uea0df999-235b-548c-ae36-0c169d8732f0)
Epigraph (#u50943a9c-8c83-5b0c-95b2-9ea2f2536c06)
Chapter One (#u54aff448-f41e-59cf-a955-e1761d9aa661)
Chapter Two (#uaaf1ded0-fa54-53d1-a795-f1e1f9ad3e42)
Chapter Three (#uc9652ed7-5273-5f63-a95f-b8ff22504dd2)
Chapter Four (#ue388dce1-bd95-54cc-beb7-e03447108419)
Chapter Five (#uaa821ba1-0b48-5e7d-97b9-ddfc7e23e54f)
Chapter Six (#u0f087a0f-f37e-53de-a0de-12522bd638f7)
Chapter Seven (#u12988830-da52-5af4-b119-7881f04ee674)
Chapter Eight (#u79545b7a-4f04-5119-bfe8-8f55484f361b)
Chapter Nine (#ud8c9f241-6401-534c-b56b-bc8590719ead)
Chapter Ten (#ud047558f-66e1-55a4-bab4-4250c947e3b9)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Author’s Note (#litres_trial_promo)
Suggested Topics for Reading Group Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading … (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Books by Lisa Stone (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u777c9c04-e483-5d9b-ab36-67ae92eb85e6)
He woke with a start. Eyes wide open and senses alert. Flat on his back.
Julie slept on beside him; blissfully unaware he was awake. She could sleep through anything, he thought – thunderstorms, the neighbour’s dog barking, cats fighting. Out for the count. Although there were none of those noises now. It was all quiet.
Perhaps it was one of the children having a dream that had woken him? Or the urban motorbike racer? It came out of nowhere, completed a full throttle lap of the area and then disappeared back into the night. It was a pastime that seemed to be growing in popularity, according to the local newspaper and the outrage of residents. Didn’t urban racers have to be up in the morning to go to work? Obviously not, Russ thought with a stab of irritation, but then how did they afford such powerful bikes? He glanced at the luminous digital display of the bedside clock radio. 2.10am. Damn. He was wide awake now.
He listened again for the noise that had woken him but the house remained quiet. Maybe it had been one of the children – Jack or Phoebe – having a dream and they’d now turned over and gone back to sleep? Or perhaps there’d been no external stimuli and he’d been jarred awake by his thoughts? Prodded to consciousness by a worry that hadn’t been settled the night before. But he couldn’t think of what. His mind was clear. Usually any unresolved issue or anxiety remained when he woke so his mind was already occupied with a half-formed rationale or incomplete sentence, but not now. There was nothing bothering him, apart from a vague reminder to return his mother’s phone call, which he would do as soon as he had the chance. She was overdue a visit and Julie had taken her last three calls. Yet while he felt a passing guilt for neglecting his mother, it wasn’t enough to have woken him.
He gazed towards the slightly parted curtains and the inky night sky beyond. No moon to wake him, no noise and he didn’t need a pee. It was unlike him to wake for absolutely no reason. He’d check on the children to put his mind to rest and then try to return to sleep. Busy day at work tomorrow. He needed to be fresh and alert.
Easing back the duvet so he didn’t disturb Julie, Russ noiselessly left the bed. Although their bedroom was in darkness, a small strip of light shone under their door from the night light on the landing. Plugged into the wall socket at floor level and mainly for the children’s benefit, it gave enough light if any of them needed to use the bathroom in the night without having to switch on the main landing light and risk waking the whole household. He’d check on Phoebe first; at four years old she was the most likely candidate, calling out in her sleep or not wanting to use the bathroom alone because of the monster she thought lived there.
Barefoot, Russ padded silently along the carpeted landing to her bedroom. He placed his hand on the door and was about to push it open when the ear-shattering shriek of the intruder alarm pierced the air. His heart lurched from the shock and his breath caught in his throat as the hairs stood up on his neck.
‘Russ? What is it?’ Julie cried, coming out of their bedroom.
At the same time Phoebe’s panicked cries came from inside her room.
‘Mummy! Mummy!’
‘Mum! Dad!’ Jack shouted over the screech of the alarm.
‘It’s OK, the alarm’s tripped out like it did before,’ he called back, quelling his own shock. ‘I’m going down now to switch if off. Mummy will stay with you.’
Russ began downstairs, the siren’s ear-piercing screech painfully deafening, as Julie went to pacify the children. He couldn’t have tripped the alarm himself; it was on the night-time setting – off upstairs but on downstairs and in the garage. Usually the last one to bed and first up in the morning, it was his job to change the setting and he did it automatically. Doubtless a fly or other small insect had passed by a sensor and set it off. It had happened before; a tiny spider running across the sensor or a lone fly shut in a room tripping the alarm in its frantic search for an exit. A small insect instilling panic in a house of humans!
Descending the last two stairs, he crossed to the alarm control box on the wall in the hall. The green LED bell symbol was flashing frantically, telling him the alarm had been activated. As if he didn’t know! He quickly entered the five-digit code – Julie’s birthday. Then silence – wonderful, peaceful quiet – although his eardrums were still buzzing and would do so for a while. He’d leave the alarm off and then check the sensors were clean tomorrow when he returned home from work. Otherwise, he was likely to spend the rest of the night in fitful sleep, bracing himself for the alarm accidentally going off again.
The hall was darker now with the alarm’s warning light no longer flashing. He began towards the foot of the stairs; he could hear Julie’s voice upstairs soothing Phoebe back to sleep. He took one step onto the staircase, and then a sharp thump on the back of his head. A cry escaped his lips, and he had a vague sensation of falling before he hit the ground. Then nothing. No sight or sound, no more thoughts; just an all-consuming darkness.
Chapter Two (#u777c9c04-e483-5d9b-ab36-67ae92eb85e6)
‘I came down and found him,’ Julie said, tears springing to her eyes again. ‘The police said there were two of them working the area. There’ve been a number of similar break-ins …’ She was on the phone to her mother-in-law, having to go through it all again, but of course she’d want to know the details; Russ was her son. ‘Yes, they levered the window in the study and were in the living room taking whatever they could find when the alarm went off, and Russ disturbed them. Pity he went down. We should have left them to take what they wanted … Yes, he’s home now, in bed resting … Yes, four stitches … I’m just going to make him a cup of tea. I will. Goodbye.’
She returned the handset to its cradle, wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes and went into the kitchen to make Russ the tea. His mother had been right when she’d said it could have been worse. So much worse. Those evil men might have gone upstairs and into their bedrooms. She trembled at the possibility. Thieves knew that most women kept their jewellery in jewellery boxes in their bedroom, the police officer had said. So in that respect she supposed they’d been lucky, spared the horror of having to live with the knowledge that those monsters had been in their rooms while they slept. And in Jack’s and Phoebe’s rooms! What if the children had woken and seen them? Would they too have been witnesses that needed silencing? She recoiled at the prospect. It didn’t bear thinking about.
Neither did the possibility that they could have killed Russ when they’d hit him with the metal crowbar they’d used for levering open the study window. A life without Russ was unthinkable, as were all the other more horrendous scenarios. Although she wasn’t sure these platitudes helped. She felt physically sick, weak, and couldn’t stop crying. It had truly been a living nightmare.
Filling the kettle, she switched it on and then leant against the work surface as she waited for it to boil. It was only 6.30pm but in November the evening was already dark. The curtains and blinds were closed, all the lights were on, and the study window had been repaired but it still didn’t feel safe.
DC Beth Mayes’ words rang in her head: that they needed to review their security. ‘When it comes to break-ins, lightning often does strikes twice in the same place, sometimes more,’ she’d said.
One house she’d been called to had been burgled three times in as many months, with the burglars waiting just long enough between their ‘visits’ for the goods to be replaced. A professional couple who’d lost their laptops, iPads and phones three times. New-for-old insurance meant the replacements had a higher street value than the originals so why wouldn’t the thieves go back?
Detached houses in leafy suburbs were easy and rich pickings, she’d said. They needed to upgrade their security and possibly consider CCTV, which could be installed for less than the price of the average family holiday. Russ was researching it now upstairs on his old laptop, which they thankfully hadn’t taken.
The kettle boiled and clicked off. Heaving herself away from the support of the worktop, Julie took a mug from the cupboard. It was too quiet in the house without Phoebe and Jack. They were staying with her parents for tonight at least, possibly for a few days. Her parents had collected them from the hospital in the early hours, which had allowed Julie to concentrate on Russ, and meant that the police could look over the house uninterrupted – fingerprinting; taking their statements; collecting evidence. From the muddy footprints on the patio it appeared it had been two men who’d come over the fence from next door. No sign of the crowbar they’d used that would have Russ’s blood on it, no sign of a getaway vehicle on their neighbour’s CCTV, and none of the neighbours had seen or heard anything. Not surprising really at 2am.
Glancing anxiously over her shoulder – every little noise spooked her – Julie took a tea bag from the caddy and tried to concentrate on making the tea. How long before the house felt safe again? She doubted it ever would. It wasn’t so much the physical damage – the window had been repaired – but the psychological and emotional damage, as the police officer had said. Beth Mayes had given them a business card and said someone from victim support would be in touch. Wiping her eyes again, she added a splash of milk to the tea and began upstairs to their bedroom.
Russ was sitting propped up in bed with the laptop open in front of him, looking positive. Apart from the small shaved patch on the top of his head with its four blood-encrusted stitches you wouldn’t have known anything was wrong. When the nurse had finished cleaning and stitching the wound, the doctor had said Russ could go home but to rest and take paracetamol as and when needed, and return to the hospital if he experienced a severe headache, blurred vision or dizziness. Russ was made of strong stuff and had only come to bed because Julie had insisted.
‘How’s the head?’ she asked, setting the mug on his bedside cabinet.
‘Not so bad. Could have been worse.’
‘That’s what your mother said – could have been worse.’ She kissed his cheek and sat on the edge of the bed, keeping her gaze away from the wound, which made her flinch.
‘And you still don’t remember what happened?’ she asked as he took a sip of the tea.
‘No. Not after getting out of bed. I came to in the ambulance.’
‘Lucky you,’ she said. ‘I’ll never forget it.’ Tears filled her eyes again as the images flashed before her. His cry, the front door banging shut as the intruders fled. Her running downstairs and finding him unconscious and bleeding from the head. Frantically calling for an ambulance as the children stood at the top of the stairs screaming and crying. Then the wait, seemingly endless although it was only ten minutes, as she held his hand and prayed he’d make it.
‘Perhaps we should move?’ she said. ‘I can’t imagine ever feeling safe here again.’
‘Of course you will,’ he said, squeezing her hand. ‘I’ll make sure of it. We’ve only just finished doing up this place. It’s our dream home. They’re not going to drive us out. Look, Jules, I’ve learnt a lot online about thieves, how they work and how to stop them. Come and sit beside me and I’ll show you. I’ll make sure we’re all safe, I promise you, love.’
She went round to her side of the bed and propped herself beside him, resting her head lightly against his shoulder, his familiar warm smell now slightly tinged with antiseptic from the hospital. He took a couple of sips of his tea and set the mug on his beside cabinet.
‘It used to be the case that burglars usually only entered unoccupied property,’ he began, ‘but apparently the profile of the offender has changed according to this. It’s often not the old-style burglar making a living from breaking and entering, but drug users desperate and willing to risk everything for their next fix. Intruder alarms are no longer considered adequate, even if they’re linked to a police alert. Most thieves know that they have time to break in, grab portable valuables and easily disposed-of items, and be long gone before the patrol car arrives. And it’s men and women, although female drug addicts are more likely to resort to prostitution for drug money.’
Typical of Russ to research in so much detail, Julie thought. If he embarked on a project – whether it was at home or work – he did so thoroughly, researching and reviewing all aspects before he made a decision. As he continued profiling the would-be intruder and then showed her web pages with various security options for protecting their home, she began to feel some of the tautness in her body ease and she started to relax.
‘I’ve emailed three security firms to come and give us quotes,’ he said. ‘We’ll get the job done properly by a specialist firm with lots of experience. This firm is my favourite so far.’ He opened the company’s web page. ‘It’s a family-run business, established twenty years ago. Plenty of five-star reviews. Don’t worry, I’ll be here when they visit, and I’ve cancelled my meeting in Germany next week. I won’t do another overnight until we’ve got our security system upgraded and CCTV installed.’ Closing the laptop, he set it on the floor beside the bed and drew her to him. ‘It’ll be fine, Jules. I promise you. I haven’t let you down yet, have I?’
‘No,’ she agreed and snuggled closer, pressing her cheek against his strong protective chest.
‘It was a dreadful experience,’ he said softly into her hair. ‘Especially for you and the children. But the memory will fade in time. It’ll certainly make a good after-dinner story.’ He nuzzled her ear, kissing the lobe. ‘I know a very good way to take our minds off it. With the children at your parents and us already in bed, it’s an opportunity too good to miss.’
And as Russ’s hand found its way into her bra and the first flush of desire made her nipples stand firm and erect, the horror of the previous night began to fade. ‘Just be careful you don’t bang your head on the headboard,’ she whispered with a smile.
‘There’s a solution for that,’ he returned; ‘you on top. Now, no more bad thoughts.’
‘No, big boy.’
Chapter Three (#ulink_aac386fd-1aaa-5fed-be75-912e4dae009b)
Derek Flint sat in his smart blue van bearing the logo of his company and, with mounting anticipation, surveyed the house and street. He’d already checked out the area on Google satellite map and street view as he did all the properties he was asked to visit – no doubt the thieves probably had too. The amount of information available on the Internet was astounding, and frightening if it got in the wrong hands. But it made his job that much easier, and very likely that of the thieves as well.
His expert eye noted that one of their neighbours had the full works from a rival security firm. A stylish alarm box on the front of their house, correctly placed CCTV cameras and two motion-activated floodlights. Their other neighbour had nothing beyond a ‘Beware of the Dog’ sign on the side gate, which could only be effective if it was a Rottweiler or similar dog, trained to attack, and not a house pet. When he’d driven down the road he’d also picked out dummy alarm boxes with fake CCTV cameras. He’d made a mental note of their addresses. Who on earth did they think they were fooling?
Derek checked his face in the van’s interior mirror and smoothed his hair. It was important he looked smart and presentable in his line of business, but not suited up like an estate agent or used-car salesman. You needed to instil confidence in prospective clients; these people had had a dreadful shock and felt vulnerable. Calling his business a family firm helped, and so did what he wore: navy trousers and a light-blue cotton shirt under a navy sweater bearing the company’s logo. Navy was the colour the police and security wore and engendered feelings of safety and dependability.
Picking up his clipboard and an information pack for the clients from the passenger seat, he opened the van door and got out. It was exactly 9.30am. He was a stickler for being on time. It was important not to inconvenience prospective clients by arriving very early; and certainly not late – that was disrespectful. He couldn’t tolerate disrespect, lateness, slovenly or sloppy behaviour. It infuriated him. He upheld punctuality, accuracy, diligence, respect and accountability, much of which he felt was now lacking in today’s society.
Opening the low front gate, he took in the two-year-old modest family car on the driveway – a middle-income family, he decided. He relatched the gate behind him and walked up the path, noticing the shrubbery that partially concealed the sideway. It was a well-maintained house, only recently modernized, so they obviously had some money. He pressed the doorbell and waited. Doubtless they’d seen his van, as would most of their neighbours. A break-in, especially one with violence, was very good for his business.
He knew that the owners, Julie and Russ Williams, were a married couple in their late thirties with two young children, most of which he’d discovered from the Internet, together with photographs of their last family holiday, and the children’s birthday parties held in the back garden. So he had a picture of the rear of the house – just like the thieves. If people only knew how accessible their information was they’d be more careful sharing it. Smoothing his hair again, Derek cleared his throat as the front door opened.
‘Good morning. Derek Flint from Home Security,’ he said, handing the man his business card.
‘Good morning. Russ Williams.’ A firm handshake. ‘Come in. This is my wife Julie.’ Derek made a point of wiping his feet on the mat – it was only polite – then stepped in and shook Mrs Williams’ hand.
‘A pleasure to meet you. I was so sorry to learn of your break-in.’ His brow furrowed with concern. ‘I wish I could have seen you both sooner but I was fully booked all last week.’
‘Not a problem, you’re here now,’ Russ said. Julie threw him a weak smile.
‘Please don’t worry. We’ll soon have this place secure,’ he reassured her.
‘You understand we’re having other quotes,’ Russ said.
‘Yes, of course.’ He gave a small self-deprecating nod.
‘Would you like a coffee?’ Julie asked.
‘Perhaps at the end? If you don’t mind I’d like to crack on. I’ve a very busy day ahead.’ It was important they knew how in demand he was.
‘I’ll show you around and explain what we’ve got in mind,’ Russ said. ‘I’ve been researching what we need online.’
Everyone was an expert now with the Internet, Derek thought but didn’t say. ‘Excellent. It’s always so much easier if the homeowner is well informed. This is for you.’ He put the information pack firmly into Russ’s hand. Clients were always impressed with glossy brochures. ‘I’ll talk you through it later after I’ve had a look around, if that’s all right with you?’
‘Absolutely. So this is the living room,’ Russ said, leading the way from the hall.
Derek stepped aside to allow Mrs Williams to go first and then followed with his clipboard and pen poised.
‘As you know from our telephone conversation,’ Russ continued, ‘the thieves got in through the study and then crossed the living room and attacked me in the hall. The alarm did its job but without cameras there’s little chance of identifying them. So we were thinking of cameras at the rear, sides and front of the house.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Derek said, making a note. ‘I agree.’ He followed Russ and his wife into the study.
‘They levered that picture window,’ Julie exclaimed, pointing, the fear returning to her eyes.
‘The new ones can’t be levered out,’ Russ added. ‘They’re being replaced tomorrow.’
‘Good,’ Derek said. Russ had certainly done his homework. He nodded thoughtfully, looked around and made another note, then followed them out of the study, back across the living room, and into the kitchen-cum-diner that ran the entire depth of the house. All recently refurbished with yards of glinting polished granite work surfaces. Incredible how some people prioritized their spending. Forty thousand plus on a new kitchen but leave in a crap alarm system.
‘You’ve got a lovely home,’ Derek enthused.
‘Thank you,’ Julie said.
‘So we need to protect it and keep you and your family safe from the scum who steal rather than work.’
‘Exactly my feeling,’ Russ agreed. Derek thought it would be.
He made a quick sketch of the downstairs and then asked to see upstairs. Russ led the way up to the landing and then in and out of the four bedrooms, the family bathroom and downstairs again.
‘Lovely house,’ Derek said again, ingratiating himself a little further.
Russ opened the door to the cloakroom so Derek could see in and then led them through the garage and outside, where he pointed out where he thought the cameras should be sited.
‘I agree.’ Derek nodded, adding them to the sketch. He then spent a few moments looking interestedly at the back of the house and garden while omitting to say he was already familiar with the outside of their house from the Internet.
‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Shall we go inside now and I’ll talk you through what I have in mind – incorporating your wishes, of course. And perhaps,’ he said, turning to Julie with a humble smile, ‘I could take you up on your kind offer of a coffee? It would be most welcome.’
‘Yes, of course.’
While Julie made coffee, Derek sat with Russ at the oak dining table at the other end of the kitchen-diner and set out the brochures and paperwork, waiting until Julie returned with their drinks before beginning. Women expected to be involved now.
‘So this is an outline of your house,’ he said, pointing to the plan he’d sketched. ‘I’m proposing siting the cameras here, here, here and here – more or less where you suggested.’ Russ looked pleased. ‘These are the cameras I use.’ He showed them the glossy leaflet. ‘I always recommend spending the money on decent high-definition cameras. They give you excellent daytime vision and infrared at night. They are more expensive but the images are so sharp the police can use them to identify suspects. Not that you will be broken into again once this is all installed.’
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ Julie said.
‘I explained to my wife that the reason one of the other quotes was so cheap was because they used analogue cameras,’ Russ said.
‘Exactly. You are well informed. I’ll run the external wiring in conduit.’
‘What’s that?’ Julie asked.
‘It’s a hard plastic tube that protects the wires so they can’t be cut,’ Russ said.
‘I couldn’t have explained it better myself,’ Derek said, flashing him an approving smile. ‘It’s the safest option otherwise a would-be intruder would simply snip through the wire and disconnect the camera. Most intruders carry wire cutters. It’s a small additional cost to you but worth it.’
‘Oh yes, we must have those conduits,’ Julie agreed, shuddering at the recollection of their break-in.
Derek made a note. ‘In respect of the monitor I suggest this fifteen-inch colour monitor.’ He opened another leaflet.
‘You wouldn’t run it through the television then?’ Russ enquired.
‘No. It’s the less expensive option but using the television as your surveillance monitor is cumbersome and ineffective in practice. If you have a separate monitor you just glance at it. I would suggest situating it in the hall.’
‘We’ll have the monitor you recommend,’ Russ said. ‘What about voice warning alarms? You know those that give a recorded warning message – you are being recorded on CCTV – or similar.’
‘I can install one if you wish – it’s not a problem – but I don’t usually use them.’
‘Why not?’
‘They can be very annoying to neighbours and in practice they are more likely to deter your newspaper boy than a would-be intruder. I think the money would be better spent on additional security lights.’ He paused for their reaction. He never rushed his clients.
‘Yes, go ahead,’ Russ said. ‘We have one security light down the sideway so we can see our way to the bins.’
‘Noted,’ Derek said. ‘And I would suggest another at the rear and down the other sideway.’
‘Not at the front as well?’ Russ queried.
‘Not necessary. You have the ornamental down lights, which you leave on all night.’
‘How did you know we left them on?’ Russ asked, looking at him.
A slight hesitation before Derek replied. ‘You seem sensible and it’s a reasonable precaution to illuminate the front of the house rather than leaving it in darkness.’ He smiled reassuringly and moved on. ‘That’s the external security taken care of. Have you considered having a surveillance camera indoors?’
‘Whatever for?’ Julie asked surprised. ‘There’s only us and the children here.’
‘You don’t ever use a nanny, au pair, babysitter or cleaner?’ Derek queried, assured of the answer.
‘We have a cleaner,’ Julie replied. ‘But she’s been with us for years. Our babysitter is our goddaughter, a lovely girl. I trust them both.’
‘I’m sure you do – as would most folk – but many of my clients who take this option are surprised by what they find goes on in their absence. I’m not trying to scare you into buying something you’re not comfortable with, but I wouldn’t be doing my job properly if I didn’t suggest all the options. Think about it and let me know. If you do decide to go ahead I would suggest one camera in the living room. You can easily turn it off on the monitor so you don’t have to keep seeing yourselves.’
‘We’ll think about it,’ Russ said.
Derek nodded. ‘Nearly finished,’ he said, glancing at his watch. ‘I won’t keep you much longer. Now to the NVR – that’s the video recorder. It records constantly and keeps the recording for thirty days and then resets. I’d like to situate it out of the way in the garage.
‘That’s fine,’ Russ said.
‘And last but certainly not least I’d recommend connecting your surveillance system to the Internet, so you can watch your home and see it is safe when you’re out.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Russ said.
‘You’ll be able to access your CCTV on your phone, tablet or laptop. Here, let me show you my office.’ He always gave this little demonstration although clients rarely needed convincing. Blokes especially were eager to sign up to the latest online technology and impress their mates and work colleagues.
He placed his phone on the table between them so they could both see it and tapped the icon. ‘There’s my office,’ he said proudly as the image displayed. ‘It’s empty at present, as it should be; we’re all out on jobs. There’s the lockup where I keep the vans overnight. The system I have is the same as the one I would install here. See how sharp the images are.’ They both nodded enthusiastically, clearly impressed, as most clients were. He allowed them time to savour the images as he zoomed in and out. ‘And here’s my home,’ he continued, swiping the screen. ‘Again, the same system I would use here.’ Julie peered closely at the webcam images of the inside of his home.
‘Do you live alone?’ she asked, which took him by surprise.
‘Why do you ask?’ he said, and closed the website.
‘Just wondered; me being nosy, I guess.’
He raised a polite smile and returned the phone to his pocket. ‘Do either of you have any questions about anything I’ve said? Apart from my private life,’ he added. He saw her glance at him, unsure if he was serious.
‘I don’t think we have; you’ve been very thorough,’ Russ said. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll email my quote to you this evening. Go through it, and have a look at the literature. Let me know if you have any questions.’ He gathered together his papers, finished his coffee, and stood.
‘If we were to accept your quote,’ Russ said as they began towards the door, ‘how soon could you do the work?’
He looked at them thoughtfully. ‘Hmm, I have a big job starting the week after next at a building contractors. You obviously want this place securing as soon as possible to stop the same thing happening again.’ He paused. ‘I tell you what, this work here should only take me a day, so, if you were to give me the go ahead tomorrow, I’ll have it fitted for you by the end of the week. How does that sound?’
‘Very good,’ Russ said, and Julie nodded.
‘Well, nice meeting you both and thank you for the coffee.’ They arrived in the hall and shook hands.
‘Try not to worry,’ he said to Julie. ‘We’ll soon have you safe again.’
‘Thank you, I feel safer already.’
‘Good.’
He’d be very surprised if he didn’t get the work.
Chapter Four (#ulink_7c0a443c-5ce9-5b2f-8260-78e905a28153)
‘Very nice,’ Paul Mellows said, as they pulled onto the driveway. For a moment Derek thought he was referring to him. ‘The house … it’s a nice pad,’ Paul clarified.
‘Oh yes.’ Derek nodded and switched off the engine, silencing a wave of disappointment ‘So remember, we wipe our shoes on their doormat before we go in. It’s these little marks of respect that clients appreciate.’
Paul sighed. ‘I always do, don’t I?’
Derek glanced at him with an appreciative smile. ‘You’re better than many of my apprentices, I’ll give you that.’ Paul was an attractive lad with fair hair and blue-grey eyes, but at eighteen he was brash with the misplaced confidence of someone who thought they knew it all. ‘Eight twenty-nine. Nearly time to go. Is your phone off or on silent?’
‘It will be.’
‘And remember, we address our clients by their title and surname, so it’s Mr and Mrs Williams to you.’
Paul stifled another sigh. ‘I know. And we don’t accept the first drink they offer even though I’m gasping and didn’t have time for breakfast.’
‘And whose fault would that be?’ Derek asked indulgently.
‘Mum’s for not getting up on time.’
‘You’re old enough to get your own breakfast. So you know the routine.’ Derek opened his door. ‘You stay in the van while I ring the bell and make sure they are all up and ready for us. And no shaking their hands,’ he added, his lip curling into a smile. ‘Who knows what you’ve been doing with those hands at your age.’
‘Wouldn’t you like to know.’
Derek looked away as Paul’s phone bleeped with a message. ‘Girlfriend?’ he asked as he got out.
‘None of your business.’
Derek left him to it. Despite his impertinence Paul was learning the trade fast, possibly a bit too fast. He’d had to keep a closer eye on him. He rang the doorbell. The Williams were up and expecting him. With a brief ‘good morning’, he returned to the van for the equipment they needed, tapping on Paul’s window as he passed.
‘Thank God it’s Friday,’ Paul moaned as he got out and joined his boss at the rear of the van.
‘You want to count yourself lucky you have a job. There’s a lot unemployed among your age group, and you’re learning a trade.’
‘So you’ve told me before.’
Ignoring his slight, Derek passed Paul two toolboxes from the rear of the van and locked the van doors. Mr and Mrs Williams were waiting for them in the hall.
‘This is my apprentice, Paul.’
‘Hello,’ Paul said, giving his shoes a cursory wipe on the mat.
‘Hi. Would you both like a drink before you start work?’ Julie offered.
‘No, thank you,’ Derek replied. ‘I’d like to get going, if you don’t mind.’
‘And you, Paul?’
‘I have to do as the boss says.’
‘We’ll leave our tools in the garage and set up camp in there, if that’s alright with you?’ Derek said to Russ. ‘Save us keep going in and out of your front door.’
‘Fine,’ Russ said. ‘I’m working from home today so if you need anything I’ll be in the study, and my wife will be around too.’
‘We’ll try not to disturb you,’ Derek said.
‘Anything else you need?’ Russ asked.
‘I don’t believe so.’
‘I’ll leave you to it then.’
‘Thank you.’ He gave a little bow.
Paul stifled a smile.
In the two months he’d been working for Derek, Paul had learnt that the company was nowhere near the size his boss liked to pretend – indeed as far as he was aware there was just the two of them. He also knew that as well as being obsessed with good manners and politeness, Derek kept himself to himself, never went out socially and appeared to have no mates. He seemed to live for his work, and was meticulously clean and tidy to ridiculous lengths. Some days Paul felt he’d done nothing but clear up. Derek also liked to work in silence, only breaking it to explain something about the job, or to deliver a lecture. Lectures included the youth of today, lack of respect, the lowlife scum who stole from decent folk, and noise pollution – the latter delivered after Paul had naïvely asked if they could have the radio on as they worked.
‘If clients wanted a radio blaring out all day they’d have one switched on, wouldn’t they? It would be intrusive for them to have to listen to our radio just because we want it on. An infringement of their personal space. Never forget we are tradesmen in these people’s homes, here simply to do the job they are paying us for, so don’t overstep the line into familiarity.’ Paul had been sorry he’d asked.
But his boss’s work ethos seemed to be successful, for he received so many requests for quotations that he could pick and choose the jobs he wanted. After visiting some premises he didn’t send an estimate, but an email apologizing that his work schedule was full, which seemed odd to Paul as some days they’d finished by lunchtime. Paul had no idea what the criteria were for accepting or declining a job. He’d asked Derek but he’d been vague and as an apprentice he couldn’t press him for an explanation. Paul was never allowed to go with Derek when he went to estimate. Derek said it would be an unnecessary inconvenience to the clients to have them both there, but added that if he took Paul on permanently he would train him in estimating. For various reasons Paul doubted that would happen.
At eleven o’clock they accepted the coffee Mrs Williams offered and drank it in the garage. Paul was also allowed to eat two of the biscuits she’d arranged on the plate; to eat them all would have appeared greedy, Derek said. It was then Paul’s job to return the tray with their empty mugs and the plate to the kitchen, remembering to knock on the door before he went in, even if it was open.
At one o’clock they had their lunch break sitting in the van to eat their packed lunches. Paul found it uncomfortable sitting so close to Derek who often had tuna and mayo in his sandwiches, made by his mother. He had the radio on low and always tuned to Classic FM. Paul ate his sandwiches quickly and then left the van to use his phone.
At half past five, the job was done. Derek checked the place was clean and tidy and that all their tools were packed in the van and then told Paul he could go. All that remained was for Derek to talk the clients through operating the system, and he never left until the clients felt confident using it.
‘I’m glad you’re pleased with the quality of the images,’ Derek said an hour later as he and Mr and Mrs Williams stood in front of their monitor in the hall. He’d shown them how to navigate the screen with the mouse, rewind to a specified date and time, download information, zoom in and out, and decide which images to display. They were now looking at their children in the living room watching television.
‘Stop picking your nose, Jack,’ his father called from the hall. They laughed as Jack looked up startled, wondering how he’d been caught.
‘I’ve changed the default password along the lines your husband suggested so you can remember it,’ Derek said, winding up. ‘It’s now rujuwi10.’
‘I won’t remember that!’ Julie exclaimed.
‘Yes, you will,’ Russ said. ‘It’s the first two letters of our names and 10.’
‘Of course.’ She laughed, tapping her forehead at having not realized.
‘Change it again if you want,’ Derek said. ‘But please tell me if you do. I’m maintaining your system – free for five years – so if there is a technical problem I’ll need to be able to log in to sort it out.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Russ said.
‘Now, I’ve loaded the website to both your phones; are you sure you don’t want me to do the same with your tablets and laptops?’
‘No, that’s fine, I’ll do it,’ Russ said. ‘Thanks for everything. I’ll certainly recommend you.’
‘Thank you. Please don’t hesitate to phone or email me if there is anything further I can help you with.’
‘We will,’ Russ said. They shook hands.
Derek turned to Mrs Williams. ‘Nice seeing you again. You’ll sleep easier in your bed now you’re all protected.’
‘We will indeed.’
Chapter Five (#ulink_9046f8f2-fcc2-5f1d-af1e-a2eac090f35d)
‘You’re late,’ Elsie Flint hissed the moment Derek walked in. ‘Your dinner’s ruined again. I had mine over an hour ago. It’s thoughtless. But why do I expect any different? Like father, like son.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Derek said, going to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. ‘But you know I can’t leave a client until the job is complete.’ He ran the hot water, squirted antibacterial soap onto his palms and washed them well.
Tutting, his mother took his plated dinner from the oven. She set it at the place she’d laid on the small Formica dining table covered by a faded tablecloth in the recess of the kitchen.
‘Thank you,’ he said, drying his hands.
She humphed and returned to the living room, sitting in her usual chair in front of the television to watch the soap he’d interrupted.
She was a bitter woman, Derek acknowledged, and watched soaps most of the day to alleviate the boredom of her own life. And who could blame her? Her life was meaningless, shallow and without purpose but there was nothing he could do about it.
He crossed to the table, and drawing out a chair sat down. He picked up his knife and fork, wiped it on his napkin and looked at the congealed ready meal on his plate.
‘I’ve told you not to bother cooking my meal,’ he called through to her with a stab of irritation. ‘I never know what time I’ll be back.’
‘And I’ve told you it’s a waste of electricity to cook our meals separately,’ she returned, and upped the volume on the television to stop further discussion.
In the past he’d suggested buying a microwave but she’d refused on the grounds they were unsafe, and, anyway, she’d never learn to use one.
‘I could teach you,’ he’d offered.
‘No, thank you,’ she’d said in a tone that left no room for negotiation. ‘We don’t need a microwave.’
He took a mouthful of the cottage pie and chewed slowly. Another stab of irritation. He resented having to eat her overcooked processed meals nearly as much as he resented being put in the position his father had left him in. When he’d abandoned them, Derek had become solely responsible for his mother. He’d been just eighteen and his own life had stopped. He doubted it would ever get going again while she was alive. He’d had to leave school to get a job to support them both, and had become his mother’s emotional crutch too – her lifeline. It was crushing and sucked the lifeblood out of him.
Then he felt guilty for thinking these things, and hated his father even more.
‘Sorry, lad,’ his father had said on the day he’d walked out, taking only one suitcase and never returning. ‘She’s not the woman I married. I’ve stood it for as long as I can but it’s a loveless, sexless marriage. You’re an adult now and can take care of yourself. I want something better while I have the chance. I don’t deserve this.’ But neither did he, Derek thought bitterly.
As the only man in her life, his mother took out her frustration on him so that over the years he’d grown to feel as his father must have done and could almost appreciate why he’d left. But Derek didn’t have the option of leaving. It was unthinkable. She’d never survive alone, which was not a consideration his father had had to contend with because, of course, Derek had been there.
Having eaten half of the glutinous tasteless heap on his plate, he stood, went to the pedal bin and scraped the rest in.
‘Wasteful,’ his mother called from the living room. ‘Throwing away good food when there are kiddies in the world starving. You should be ashamed of yourself.’
He didn’t respond – he rarely did – but crossed to the sink where he filled the bowl with hot water, added a squirt of washing-up liquid, and washed his plate and cutlery thoroughly. Drying his hands, he returned to the table and, in a well-practised routine, removed the salt and pepper pots and put them in their place in the cupboard, folded the tablecloth and placed that and the napkins in the drawer in the bureau.
He poured himself a glass of water, left the kitchen and began across the hall.
‘I’ll be upstairs if you need me,’ he called.
There was no reply; he hadn’t expected one. He probably wouldn’t see her again until the next day when she would be downstairs in her dressing gown making breakfast. They sometimes had dinner together, which was the nearest they came to interacting; otherwise he followed his routine and she hers.
As he neared the top of the stairs, his spirits lifted at the prospect of what lay ahead. It was his ‘calling’, his vocation, and what kept him going and made his life worth living. It created a feeling of being valued, of being in charge, and gave his life some purpose. Without it he’d be nothing, a nobody like his mother, but in this he knew he excelled.
Opening the door to his bedroom, he flicked on the light switch then closed the door behind him, sliding the bolt into place. The cheap outdated furniture, threadbare carpet, single bed (his since childhood), and faded curtains were of no significance now. His surroundings were inconsequential compared to the work he did – keeping people safe.
He crossed to the one piece of new furniture in the room, the pine workstation that stretched almost the length of one wall. Reaching under the desk, he threw the switch and then sat in his office chair and waited for the monitors to power up.
The expectation of what lay ahead was uplifting, nearly orgasmic in its intensity. Nothing else gave him a buzz quite like this. His desk and the monitors resembled a control centre. Houston calling. This was his domain. Here he had a god-like status: all-seeing and powerful. Omniscient, and looking down on the minions that were the human race.
Four screens; he might buy more, although he was already working flat out. There just weren’t enough hours in the day. Each monitor was responsible for twelve sites, forty-eight sites in all. He would be stretching himself to take on more and he didn’t want to let anyone down. He changed the sites from time to time. Updated the selection as and when necessary. If he got bored with one or if the client no longer required his service, then he replaced their site with another. He was never short of choice. There were always people in need of monitoring, guidance and assistance. It was just that they didn’t know it.
The screen savers appeared simultaneously on all four monitors and Derek entered the password, then clicked on the icon to launch the software for the live images coming from his clients’ cameras. His senses tingled with delight as forty-eight thumbnail images presented themselves and the screens were alive with little people scurrying around like ants.
He peered more closely, scanning each briefly, deciding who to visit first. This was often based on where he’d left off the night before when he’d had to force himself away from the dramas unfolding before him and switch off and go to bed. How his mother with her addiction to television soaps would have loved his work; if only she knew, he thought. Real people living out real lives; not actors working from scripts. So much better to have the real thing.
He was sure she would have appreciated it and it might have bridged their divide and brought them closer – united in a common pleasure. But she was far too much the gossip to be trusted with something so precious. A slip of the tongue over the garden fence or when she was on the phone to her sister. It was a pity she couldn’t be trusted, for this was probably the one thing that might have made her proud of him. Might, but then again he wasn’t sure.
With his hand resting lightly on the mouse, Derek concentrated on screen one and zoomed in to The Mermaid, his first port of call tonight.
Betty, the proprietress of the ‘massage parlour’, was the only one of his clients who knew he was watching and she appreciated it. He always tried to spend time with her and her girls in the evening. He’d done a deal with her to install their CCTV after one of her girls had been badly assaulted by a client who hadn’t understood that ‘no’ meant no. Betty had wanted cameras in all the bedrooms to keep the girls safe, but his competitors had shied away from the work, saying it was probably illegal. He hadn’t had the same reserve – far from it. It was what he did, although Betty didn’t know that. So they’d done a deal. He’d installed the surveillance system at cost price on the understanding he could watch the girls with their clients whenever he wanted. Sensing she had found a kindred spirit, she’d suggested another deal and now gave Derek 30 per cent of the earnings she made from her website, where she charged clients to view the girls performing. He’d been surprised to learn how many clients were willing to pay to just watch. It made him feel less of a freak.
He felt he enjoyed a good relationship with Betty and considered her a friend. Often she’d give him a little wave or say hello to the camera if it was at a time when he was likely to be watching and she wasn’t entertaining. She’d offered him the chance to experience their service first-hand, but he’d declined. He’d seen how the girls gossiped in their spare time, sometimes laughing about their clients. He’d only had sex with a woman once and that had been disaster. Doubtless it wouldn’t be any different the next time.
This evening as he looked at the images coming from The Mermaid he could see that Betty was busy showing a new girl around. Three of the rooms were in use and he clicked on Sandra’s bedroom, his favourite girl, and enlarged the image to full screen.
She was entertaining a regular client, a guy from the city who was in banking. Derek felt he knew him, he’d been there so often, and he certainly knew his little ways. He always treated Susan well – with respect – and was very generous in tipping. In a different life he could have been like him, Derek thought, had his father not left them.
He watched, his breath and heartbeat quickening as his excitement grew, mirroring that of the client’s. Unzipping his trousers, he lowered the front of his pants and then took a tissue from the box and held it ready. Masturbating, he followed the rhythm of Susan and her client, never taking his gaze from the screen until the last moment when his eyes snapped shut in ecstasy and his body contracted into orgasm. A small cry escaped his lips and he relaxed. He needed that – the release. Much better alone than with someone. It was so much safer; they didn’t laugh.
After wiping himself dry, he threw the tissue into the wastepaper basket, then tucked himself in and zipped up his trousers. Now to business. He looked at the other sites on screen one. Methodical in surveillance as he prided himself on being in all other aspects of his life, Derek had arranged his clients in alphabetical order, using the first letter of their surname or that of the establishment if it was a business. So A to F were on screen one, G to M on screen two and so on. Bart’s Corner Shop was on screen one. There’d been no sign of the hooded thugs who had twice robbed and terrorized the shop owner and his wife at knifepoint. Satisfied all was well, Derek checked the other sites on screen one before moving to the next monitor.
His most recent clients, the Williams, were on screen four, and he clicked on their thumbnail image, which brought up the views from all their cameras. Everything appeared to be working and he clicked on the exterior cameras first, enlarging them one at a time to fill the screen. He was pleased with the clarity. Although it was pitch-black outside, the infrared was working well, as he knew it would be, so he could see almost as much as in daylight.
Satisfied that all was well outside their home, Derek now clicked on the image coming from the camera in their living room. It was a comfortable and homely room, welcoming and relaxing. He’d thought so while he’d been there earlier. He assumed the children, Jack and Phoebe, were in bed as there was no sign of them in the living room; just Russ and Julie sitting side by side on their sofa, enjoying a glass of wine on a Friday evening. A cosy scene and one he envied; the snatch of normal family life with the children in bed and the parents spending quality time together. A proper family, not like his.
He clicked on the speaker symbol to engage the microphone in the camera – a little additional touch his clients didn’t know they had. Russ and Julie – he felt he knew them well enough now to use their first names – were discussing next year’s holiday. They were thinking of taking the children to Disney World in Florida. Very nice, lucky kids. Derek smiled to himself. They were a lovely family and he was pleased he could help them. Reassured all was well in the Williams’ home, he clicked the mouse to return their image to a thumbnail, took a sip of water, and then moved the cursor to U. Now to the real business of the night – which might not be so warm and cosy.
Chapter Six (#ulink_454563fc-1b45-55d6-8840-023b845a027e)
Derek watched as Kevin Brown took his place in the gloomy doorway of U-Beat nightclub. At six foot two inches tall, he was broad chested, with muscles gorged from steroids and weight training. His face was that of a fighter, his nose flattened and misshapen and his skin pockmarked with scars old and new. At twenty-three he was an arrogant bastard who considered himself in peak condition and hoped to enter the world of professional boxing. Before those dreams were realized, to get by he took work where it was offered. Jobs that required a big, bad-looking guy. He was under no illusion about his appearance, and even bragged about it, but it was an asset in the ring and in his other work. If you needed the frighteners putting on someone to warn them off or repay a debt, then it was no good sending along some little prissy. He was the man for the job. And it was surprising just how many who owed money and claimed they had nothing suddenly found a wad of cash when he turned up on their doorstep, even before he’d become ‘persuasive’.
Tonight, as with most Friday and Saturday nights, Kevin was working as a bouncer for U-Beat nightclub. There was just him on duty at present but another bouncer would join him at ten o’clock, half an hour before the club opened. They kept the queue in order, sent away those who were already pissed, high, or out to make trouble, then once the club doors opened, allowed the clubbers in one at a time, frisking them as they entered: a quick pat-down, and a search of the girls’ handbags, checking for drugs, drinks and weapons. There were already a dozen or so early birds in the queue who wanted to make sure they got in. U-Beat was the only nightclub in Coleshaw town, and there wasn’t much else going on so it was popular.
‘Hi Kev,’ two girls called. Heavily made up and ready for a night out, they tottered over to him on too-high heels.
‘Hello, ladies,’ he said, straightening. ‘How are you?’ They were regulars.
Derek shifted in his chair. He had a good idea what was coming next.
‘We’re good, aren’t we?’ Chelsea giggled, nudging her friend.
‘Yea,’ Tracey said. ‘We’re good.’
‘How’s the kids?’
‘Brats but we love ’em,’ Chelsea replied for them both.
‘You clubbing tonight then,’ Kevin asked, ‘or just here to chat me up?’
‘That depends, don’t it?’ Chelsea replied, and they both giggled.
‘On what?’ he asked, feigning ignorance.
‘On whether you let us in, Kev,’ Tracey said.
Kevin leant slightly forward, peered out from the doorway at the short queue lining up against the wall to his right. ‘If you join the queue now you’ll get in no problem,’ he said, suppressing a smile.
They giggled again. ‘You know we haven’t any money, Kev, to pay to get in,’ Chelsea said.
‘You haven’t spent all your benefit money already?’ he exclaimed in mock surprise. It was a similar conversation every Friday evening. They were both teenage single mums and didn’t have twenty pounds each to get in. Once inside it was easy to get guys to buy them drinks.
‘Kev, stop teasing us,’ Tracey said. ‘You’ll let us in, won’t you?’
‘I’m thinking,’ he said, obviously enjoying the banter.
‘What you thinking, Kev?’ Both girls grinned seductively.
‘About what you can do to persuade me,’ Kevin said, looking over their heads.
‘I can’t,’ Chelsea said, ‘I’ve got me monthly, but Trace can.’
‘Is that right?’ he said, bringing his gaze back to Tracey.
‘Yea. But you let us both in. Special offer. One for two.’ They laughed and his eyes creased into a smile.
He glanced up at the CCTV camera trained on the entrance, at present with him framed in its doorway. There was another camera just inside the door.
‘You know where,’ he said to Tracey. ‘But don’t make a song and dance about it or you’ll get me fired.’
Tracey took the hint and quickly slipped out of view of the camera and disappeared down the alley that ran alongside the club. Chelsea went to take their place in the queue as Kevin stepped out of the doorway. ‘I’m going for a slash, mate,’ he told the guy waiting with his girl at the head of the queue. ‘I’ll be back shortly. Keep an eye on things and I’ll let you in for nothing.’
‘OK, mate.’
Undoing the button on his black three-quarter-length coat as he went, Kevin turned the corner into the alleyway and out of sight of the camera. He could just make out Tracey waiting for him in their usual place. She and Chelsea were interchangeable and took it in turns to give him his Friday night treat, his bonus to make up for low wages and their ticket into the club. Although they were out of sight of the cameras, he was supposed to be on duty so they needed to be quick. But part of the excitement for him was in the immediacy. The fuck without foreplay.
Flattening her against the wall, he quickly undid his trousers, yanked up her short skirt and pulled aside her thong. She groaned as he thrust into her, from pain or pleasure he didn’t know – or care. Hard thrusts, deep inside; he kicked her legs further apart so he could penetrate her fully, animal-like in his taking of her. It could have been anyone he was fucking. But that was probably true for her too as long as it got her into the club. Thrusting faster now, he would come quickly, with no need to hang on in there and wait to satisfy her. She was his for the taking.
Then a sudden movement from behind. Kevin’s eyes shot open and Tracey screamed. A flash of silver, the glint of metal. A faceless head with only slits in the balaclava for eyes, the pupils dilated and the whites glowing menacingly in the dark. It was all over in an instant; no time to avoid the knife.
Kevin’s face registered shock and surprise before pain. Tracey screamed over and over again as the attacker vanished as quickly as he’d appeared, disappearing out of the alley and into the night.
Blood pumped from the wound in Kevin’s neck and spurted down Tracey’s front. He staggered back, groaning and clutching his neck. Shaking violently, with her legs barely able to support her, Tracey ran out of the alley and to the front of the club.
‘He’s been stabbed! Kev’s been stabbed!’ she shouted hysterically.
He staggered out behind her, both hands clamped to his neck impotently trying to stem the flow of blood, before collapsing onto the pavement in full view of those waiting in the queue, and the camera.
Derek gasped and stared in horror.
The queue quickly dispersed like ants; some fearing that they might be next ran away while others went to Kevin. Chelsea ran to her friend and screamed at the sight of all the blood. Some people were just staring at Kevin on the ground, not knowing what to do. One guy was phoning for an ambulance, another two were actually taking photographs on their phones. Finally, a girl who said she was a trainee nurse knelt beside Kevin and put pressure on the wound to stem the blood while they waited for the ambulance.
‘Jesus,’ Derek said, unable to take his eyes from the screen. ‘He needed to be taught a lesson, but not like that.’
There was then what seemed like an interminable wait before the ambulance and police arrived, but was only seven minutes according to the clock on Derek’s computer. The paramedics went to Kevin, one opening a medical bag while the other thanked the trainee nurse and took over the compression on the wound. As they worked to save Kevin’s life, the police moved the onlookers away from him, and then began asking them what they’d seen and heard of the incident. They all said similar: that they hadn’t seen it happen but the guy was a bouncer at the club and had been stabbed in the alleyway over there.
‘He went to have a piss,’ the guy who’d been at the head of the queue said. Then Tracey, her clothes stained with Kevin’s blood, came forward and told them what had really happened. When the young officer had finished taking their statements, Chelsea asked if the club would still open and if they could get in for nothing.
‘Jesus, have you no humility?’ Derek exclaimed aloud, appalled.
He watched carefully as the police cordoned off the alleyway, now a crime scene, and the paramedics continued to work on Kevin. Then, with an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, a drip attached to his arm, and a large dressing covering his neck wound, Kevin was lifted onto a stretcher and into the ambulance, apparently unconscious.
Derek watched the ambulance leave, its blue light bouncing off the buildings and then disappearing out of view. Another police car arrived and a plain-clothed man and a woman got out of the rear. Forensics, he guessed. They exchanged a few words with the officers and then donned their white protective paper Tyvek suits. A spotlight was set up so they could see and they disappeared down the alley while other police officers went inside to speak to the owner. But Derek had seen enough. Powering down the monitors, he feared the worst.
Chapter Seven (#ulink_b0b0a9a4-7b24-5d5a-b322-2292870742e1)
‘A bit of a naughty boy then, by all accounts,’ DC Beth Mayes said, reporting to her senior. ‘Literally caught with his trousers down.’
DCI Aileen Peters smiled. ‘And no one saw anything, even though it was a Friday night?’
‘No. Nothing, ma’am. Once Kevin and Tracey were in the alleyway they were out of sight of the queue. And there’s no camera covering the side alley – just one at the front of the nightclub.’
She nodded and glanced at the report in front of her. ‘So we’re working on the assumption that the attacker was already there.’
‘Yes, ma’am. It looks that way. It’s a long dark alley, most of which isn’t visible from the street. There are plenty of places to hide – behind bins and outbuildings. You wouldn’t see someone hiding, especially with what Kevin and Tracey had on their minds. All she’s been able to tell us is that the attacker was dressed in black and had a balaclava hood covering his head and face. The CCTV footage from the camera at the front of the club shows a hooded figure going into the alley approximately half an hour before the attack. The same figure can be seen running out after the attack.’
‘He left the area on foot?’
‘Yes, as far as can be seen on the camera, which is about twenty feet.’
‘And no one in the queue saw him fleeing?’
‘No. He’d gone before the commotion began and anyone realized something was wrong. The first anyone saw or heard was when Tracey came out of the alley covered in blood and screaming that Kevin had been stabbed. He staggered out after her. That’s when their attention was drawn to the alleyway, but the attacker had fled by then.’
‘And Kevin didn’t see his attacker at all because he came at him from behind?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘It was definitely a he?’
‘From his build, yes.’
‘And we’ve ruled out Tracey or her friend, Chelsea, setting up Kevin? He’d had sex with Chelsea the week before and she wasn’t jealous and bent on revenge?’
‘According to both girls they were happy with the arrangement. They took it in turns to have sex with him and he let them both into the club for free.’
‘It must be a good club,’ Aileen Peters remarked dryly. ‘And the girls don’t see him at any other time? He’s not dating one of them?’
‘No, ma’am.’
‘Are there any other girlfriends on the scene who might not like the arrangement he had with Chelsea and Tracey?’
‘Not according to Kevin,’ Beth answered. ‘We saw him again yesterday in hospital.’
‘Did the management know about his arrangement with the girls?’
‘No. And they’re not happy that they’ve been drawn into this. It’s bad for the club’s reputation, especially when their licence is coming up for renewal.’
‘Tough. So Kevin can’t think of anyone who might have had a grudge against him? Maybe someone he collected money from or an opponent from one of his boxing matches? Someone he’d badly beaten?’
‘He says he doesn’t keep a record of his debt-collecting duties. It’s cash in hand. We’re checking out some of the fights he won, but so far nothing. Some of his opponents have form, but for pub brawls etc. None of them has a history of knife crime, GBH or anything premeditated like this. Although Kevin admits he knows some pretty dodgy characters.’
Aileen nodded. ‘So no motive and no suspect. At least he’s alive. If it was planned, which all the evidence so far is suggesting, then someone was watching him for quite a while to know his movements. That he could be relied upon to be in that alleyway at a particular time on a Friday.’
‘Yes, ma’am, it would appear so.’
‘Hmm.’ She glanced at the file and then up again. ‘Perhaps the press release will bring in some leads, but I’m not hopeful. We’ll give it our best shot, then put it to bed unless new evidence turns up.’
‘Yes, ma’am. Thank you. Just one more thing.’
‘Yes?’
‘It may be nothing, but there appear to have been some other cases in the area that could be said to be similar. Where it seems that someone has been deliberately targeted and the assailant knew where they’d be at a particular time and day. All motiveless.’
‘Really? I wasn’t aware of this.’
‘No one was, ma’am. It’s something I’ve just turned up.’
‘When you say a few, how many are we talking about?’
‘I’ve uncovered five possibles that have happened in the last twelve months. There could be more further back. None of them involved a knife but they appear to be motiveless premeditated crimes against individuals. I know it’s a long shot.’
‘Go on. I’m interested.’ Beth wouldn’t be the first DC to find a lead missed by more senior detectives.
‘Ron McKenzie’s house was broken into last month.’
‘Yes, I’m aware of that.’
‘He only went out in the evening once a month to attend a Masonic meeting. While he was gone, his house was completely trashed. They didn’t take anything but made a real mess, paint everywhere. On one of his bedroom walls they’d sprayed the words: payback time. He said he had no idea who was behind it and couldn’t think of anyone who would bear him a grudge. There were no leads and no one has been questioned.’
‘You said “they”?’
‘Forensics said it was possible there were two perpetrators, although they couldn’t be certain.’
‘It could simply have been an opportunist thief who knew McKenzie’s movements, but that doesn’t really tally with the words sprayed on the wall and that nothing was taken. Was he having an affair? Is there a jealous husband or jilted lover in the background?’
‘Not as far as we know.’
‘OK. What else do you have?’
‘Tom Murray, a barrister, and a more serious crime. He was knocked down by a motorcyclist four months ago. The bike mounted the pavement and then sped off. There are no cameras in the area but he was adamant that whoever it was had deliberately driven straight at him. A woman who’d just come into the street and saw the attack agreed. She said the rider accelerated towards the victim. Both of them said the rider was all in black, with a black helmet and a tinted visor so neither of them saw his face.’
‘I seem to remember we looked into some of the cases he’d worked on to see if anyone could have a grudge big enough to try to kill him. But there was nothing,’ Aileen said.
‘That’s correct. The file’s still open.’
‘Maybe worth taking another look.’
‘Yes, ma’am. Then there was the abduction of Mary Grey, thirty-six, a single woman living alone,’ DC Beth Mayes continued, her voice rising with enthusiasm. ‘Whoever took her knew exactly where she’d be at a given time on a given day and that she’d be alone. He also knew her name. She had no idea who he was and didn’t recognize his voice. He grabbed her from behind, bundled her into a van and put a blindfold on her. He drove her around for about ten minutes and then stopped the van. Before he threw her out he told her to be more careful in future. She says she doesn’t know what he was referring to. There are no suspects and we checked all the vans we knew to be in the area at that time.’
‘Is there anything or anyone linking these victims?’
‘Not from what we know.’
‘Have a look again – acquaintances, place of work, where they socialize.’ Her desk phone rang and she picked it up, listened to what the caller said, and then replied, ‘I’ll be there.’ Replacing the receiver, she stood. ‘I’ve got to go. Look back over two years to see if you can find any connection between them. It’s possible there’s a nutcase out there seeking revenge for some perceived injustice, but I’m more likely to think these are random acts of mindless violence. Worth having another look all the same.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
Chapter Eight (#ulink_64061a45-f01e-5174-9abe-293befe7beb3)
‘You OK, Gov? Paul asked, barely able to hide his smirk.
‘Yes, of course,’ Derek snapped, coming down from the ladder. ‘It’s only a small snag. Fetch me the first-aid kit from the van, will you?’
‘Not a lot of point in putting it back, was there? Cutting yourself twice in one morning and you always being so safety conscious.’
Derek let the comment go, as he was increasingly having to do with Paul. He knew he wasn’t himself today; he had bigger, more worrying issues on his mind than Paul’s bad attitude. The incident at U-Beat nightclub kept replaying through his head just as he’d seen it but he needed to try to concentrate before he had any more accidents or let something slip.
Cupping his finger in the palm of his hand to stop the blood dripping onto the floor, he crossed to the small sink in the corner of the room and held it under the cold tap. The room was at the rear of the newsagents and used for storing stock. Cardboard boxes and crates containing bags of sweets, packets of cigarettes, crisps, fizzy drinks and so on were stacked all around him.
He was trying to fit a camera in this room to complement the one in the shop, and then put their system online. Originally Mr and Mrs Osman, the owners of the newsagent, had just wanted one camera in the shop to stop thieving from the displays and for their own protection, but on Sunday evening while the shop had been closed it had been broken into from the rear and stock stolen. They’d phoned him on Monday morning, desperate, and asked if he could fit the extra camera and put the system online. It was a relatively small job but the work wasn’t progressing as quickly as it should. He was struggling to concentrate, there was only limited space to move around, and Mr and Mrs Osman kept interrupting him – coming in for stock or to ask him questions when all he needed was to be left in peace to finish the job.
Paul eventually returned, carrying the first-aid box, with his phone still in his hand; taking advantage of him, Derek thought.
‘I’ll be nurse then,’ Paul said.
Derek turned off the cold water tap as Paul set the first-aid box on the work surface beside the sink and took out a plaster. Away from the cold water the cut immediately opened and started bleeding again. ‘It’s deeper than I thought,’ Derek said, holding it over the sink.
‘Is there a bigger plaster in here?’ Paul asked, rummaging in the first-aid box.
‘Should be.’
He found a larger plaster and a sterile pad. ‘Give us your finger then, and we’ll use this to stop the bleeding.’
Derek held out his hand and Paul steadied it as he pressed the sterile pad on the wound. Gentler than he would have imagined, Derek felt the cool tips of Paul’s fingers, the touch of his clammy palm, and the warmth of his body nearby. He was standing close, far too close. Soothed and excited, Derek breathed in the bittersweet seductive mustiness of the teenage boy, a heady mixture of testosterone, perspiration and deodorant. How long since he’d been this close to a young man? He knew exactly, and knew he mustn’t go there again.
He took a step back. Paul removed the sterile pad from the wound and then expertly peeled the plaster from its packet and pressed it gently into place.
‘Very professional,’ Derek said, his voice unsteady.
‘Should be; Mum’s a nurse. We’re all up to speed on first aid.’
‘Are you?’ Derek asked, feigning ignorance of Paul’s home life. ‘That’s good. Well done. You said “we”?’
‘Yes, Mum, Dad, my brother, sister and me,’ Paul clarified, closing the first-aid box. ‘Although they’re my parents’ favourites. I’m the runt of the litter.’ He threw the discarded packets and soiled dressing into the bin and then looked at Derek, waiting for his instructions. ‘What next?’
‘Oh, yes. Perhaps you could finish connecting that camera for me? You know what to do.’ His usual instructive manner had gone. The intimacy of a minute ago lingered and Derek was reluctant to let it go. He could identify with not fitting in. Although he didn’t have any siblings he was sure if he had he would have been his mother’s least favourite: the runt.
‘So you’re happy with the way your apprenticeship is going?’ he asked awkwardly as Paul climbed the ladder.
‘Yes. Why?’ He glanced down at him.
‘Well, I haven’t asked you before and it’s important you’re happy. The apprenticeship scheme will ask you for feedback.’
He shrugged. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’
‘So no complaints?’
‘Apart from the abysmal pay, you mean?’
‘You’re on apprenticeship rates.’ He waited until Paul had finished clipping the wire he was working on. ‘And your home life? No worries there?’
‘None that you need to be concerned about,’ Paul returned.
‘And all’s going well with your girlfriend?’ Derek persisted. He knew Paul had a steady girlfriend because he disappeared most lunchtimes saying he was going to phone her.
‘I guess. Although last Saturday was a bit of a bummer after the stabbing at the club the Friday before.’
‘You go to U-Beat nightclub?’ Derek asked, taken aback.
‘Sometimes. The police were inside asking about the stabbing. It seems there might be a connection with some other crimes.’
‘They said that?’ He struggled to hide his shock. Thank goodness Paul was up the ladder and concentrating on wiring the camera.
‘Yes. They were trying to find out more about Kev, the bouncer who was stabbed. We didn’t know him.’
‘And the person who did it? Do they have any leads?’
‘Don’t think so. It seems he might have got away on a motorbike. Hey, you’ve got a bike, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, but I only take it out on Sundays,’ Derek said, a little too quickly.
Paul glanced at him, tightened the last screw, then came down the ladder and waited. ‘What next?’
Derek shook his head. ‘Nothing. Clear up and go home.’
‘You sure? It’s only one-thirty.’
‘Yes. I’ll be here a while talking Mr and Mrs Osman through accessing their system online; they don’t appear very computer savvy. Then I’m going home to catch up on some paperwork. I’ll see you at eight-thirty sharp in the morning.’
‘OK. Thanks.’ Paul quickly swept up the last of their mess and left.
Because Mr and Mrs Osman couldn’t leave the shop unattended, they came through to the stockroom separately to learn how to access their CCTV online, so it was three o’clock before Derek arrived home. His mother was exactly where he expected to find her – in the living room, watching television. She wasn’t surprised to hear him come in early, for his wasn’t a nine-to-five job.
‘I’ve put your clean laundry on your bed,’ she called. ‘Your room could do with a clean, but that’s your job.’
‘I know, I will,’ he said, bristling. She treated him like a little boy.
In the kitchen Derek put his lunchbox in the sink for washing later, poured himself a glass of water and went upstairs to his room where he would stay until she called him for dinner. It niggled him that she went into his room at all. At his age – forty-one – it should have been his domain, and she could have left his laundry in the airing cupboard, but he didn’t complain. He always turned the monitors off when he was out and even if she switched them on, which he doubted she would, she wouldn’t get any further than the screen savers, as the system was heavily password protected. It was the fact she had entered his territory at all that he bitterly resented, but he felt powerless to say anything.
With his bedroom door bolted, Derek sat in his office chair at his workstation, took a sip of water and powered up the monitors. As soon as they sprang into life he began searching local newspapers for updates on the stabbing at U-Beat nightclub. What Paul had said was worrying him.
The police were appealing for witnesses, the articles said, and anyone with any information should contact the number shown below. They were especially interested in talking to a motorbike rider seen leaving the area shortly after the incident, but there were no more details.
Derek opened the folder where he’d downloaded the footage from the CCTV camera at the front of the nightclub. When he’d watched in real time – as the attack had happened – he’d been concentrating on the actual action; now he scanned it for anything he might have missed. On the very edge of the screen he spotted a figure in black running from the alleyway just after the attack, but there was no motorbike in view.
He rewound to an hour before the incident and trawled through the footage, again concentrating on what was going on at the edges of the camera. His patience was eventually rewarded and he now saw what the police had presumably seen – what looked like the same figure entering the alley thirty minutes before the attack, but not detailed enough to make an identification, and no sign of a motorbike. He watched the footage for a few minutes more, then satisfied he had the same information as the police, closed the file.
Moving his chair to the centre of the workstation, Derek made a brief scan of all the live streams on all four screens, making sure nothing untoward was going on that might require his attention in the families he monitored. He zoomed in on a couple of images, then stopped at the Williams’ house, zoomed in and engaged the microphone on the camera in their living room. Mrs Williams was on the telephone, talking to her babysitter whom he recalled was their goddaughter. She was asking if she was free to babysit that evening for a few hours, and apparently she was.
‘That’s great. Thanks, Sophie, sorry it’s short notice,’ Mrs Williams said. ‘We won’t be late. Yes, come here for seven o’clock and Russ will take you home after.’ Derek had missed why she and Mr Williams were going out at short notice but he now knew their goddaughter was called Sophie. He liked to know all their names; it made him feel part of the family life he so yearned for.
His mother called from downstairs to say that dinner was ready and he clicked the mouse to put the system into sleep mode before going down. At least this meal would be freshly cooked and not dried or congealed from being kept warm in the oven for hours. She was already sitting at the table in the kitchen, waiting for him before beginning. The table as usual was covered with the faded flowered tablecloth and laid with the correct cutlery and the condiments set in the centre. They ate like this, even though there was just the two of them and even though he was sure she’d have been happier with her meal on a tray in front of the television. It was sad seeing her sitting there waiting for him, touchingly pathetic.
‘They’re putting CCTV in the flats where my sister lives,’ she said, picking up her knife and fork as he took his seat.
‘Oh yes?’
‘She was surprised we didn’t have it here. Why don’t we, Derek?’
‘Mum, when I asked you, you said you didn’t want it. That it would make you feel self-conscious.’
‘Yes, it would.’
He looked at her, not sure what to say for the best. ‘Don’t worry. This place won’t be burgled. You’re in most of the time and there’s little of value here for them to take.’
‘Whose fault is that?’ she snapped.
Derek didn’t reply. He knew the answer only too well. After his father had walked out, his mother had discovered he’d been borrowing heavily against the house and there was nothing left. It had taken Derek years to repay the debts, and the mortgage was still sixty per cent of the value of the house. He resented it too but he wished she wouldn’t keep harping on about it. It just made her more bitter.
‘Nice bit of braising steak,’ he said.
They ate the rest of the meal in silence, then she returned to her chair in the living room while he washed up. It was part of their routine, their almost-harmony. Thank goodness he had his work.
He poured himself a glass of water and went upstairs as the theme tune of the first soap of the evening began in the living room. Dinner was timed around the soaps. She occasionally watched the news but not often. She said there was too much suffering in the world. She preferred the fictional world of the soaps.
What was it the poet TS Eliot said? Derek thought as he entered his room: ‘Human kind cannot bear very much reality.’ How true. He had liked poetry at school and would have liked to have studied it in higher education, but going to university had vanished along with his father and the debts he’d left behind.
Rolling his chair to the centre of the workstation, he brought the monitors out of sleep mode and the screens filled with the thumbnail images of the live streams. It was just starting to get dark outside and Derek liked this time of evening most of all. As the natural light faded and the infrared sensors took over, the pictures were tingled with a light pink hue, creating the impression of a magical fairy-tale land. Day and night images were harsh and uncompromising compared to this. He sat back in his chair and savoured the scenes for a moment. Then it was time to get to work.
Leaning forward with his arms resting lightly on the desk, Derek began scanning the thumbnail images and was immediately alerted to the living room of the Williams’ home again.
‘Sophie!’ he said aloud, shocked. She was lying on the sofa with her legs and arms wrapped around a lad Derek hadn’t seen before and assumed to be her boyfriend. ‘I bet Mr and Mrs Williams don’t know he’s there.’
He zoomed in so their image filled the screen and clicked on the speaker icon to engage the microphone on the camera. Grunts and groans, heavy breathing, sighs of pleasure accompanied the writhing bodies, as they kissed and groped each other. Disgusting, Derek thought. How old was she? He didn’t know but would guess fourteen, and the lad looked a couple of years older. They paused for a moment to drain the last of their drinks, ice cubes melting in the bottom of the cut-glass crystal tumblers.
‘Another G and T darling?’ the lad said in a voice that presumably was supposed to be an imitation of Russ’s.
Sophie giggled. ‘Oh, darling, I daren’t take any more of their gin; they’re sure to know it’s been watered down.’ She giggled some more.
Infuriated, Derek watched as they set their empty glasses on the floor and continued groping each other. The lad ran his hand under Sophie’s top and began fondling her breasts. She closed her eyes and moaned with delight. A few moments later the sound was interrupted by a child calling from upstairs.
‘Ignore it,’ Sophie sighed from underneath him.
You little cow, Derek thought. Mr and Mrs Williams trusted you to babysit and you’ve betrayed their trust, big time. But of course it was for reasons just like this that people fitted cameras inside their homes: stealing, underage drinking, and neglecting or maltreating the children or the elderly they were supposed to be in charge of.
As the couple’s passion grew, so did Derek’s anger and indignation. He loathed it when decent people were taken advantage of. It upset him and made him angry which was why he’d set up his online surveillance in the first place. Deceit and betrayal were near the top of his list of sins and part of his mission was to help those he found being taken advantage of. He hadn’t been able to help his mother all those years ago when his father had been deceiving her, so he was making up for it now. It empowered and emboldened him and made him feel more of a man.
The groping resumed and the lad pulled up Sophie’s top and lacy bra, exposing her pert tits. He started sucking her nipples. Ignoring his own arousal, Derek concentrated on the screen. The child had stopped calling out now, presumably having given up or gone back to sleep.
‘Let’s use their bed, it’s more comfortable,’ Sophie murmured.
The lad raised his head with a stupid grin on his face and climbing off Sophie pulled her to her feet. Giggling conspiratorially, they ran out of the living room and disappeared from the camera’s view, presumably upstairs. Time to act.
Derek minimized the image of the now-empty living room and launched the system’s email account. He couldn’t rely on Mr and Mrs Williams viewing their CCTV recording of the time they’d been out and discovering the betrayal for themselves. Busy people rarely viewed their CCTV footage unless they had reason to – and Derek was about to give them a very good reason.
The third standard email on his list of templates was entitled camera warning. Derek clicked on it, inserted the email addresses of both Mr and Mrs Williams and pressed send. He prided himself on monitoring his systems personally. He liked to be in control. With the satisfaction that comes from knowing justice is likely to be swift and sweet, he sat back and waited.
Chapter Nine (#ulink_83105d35-04d8-52a8-be91-9f69e5e27f76)
In the restaurant the waiter had just asked if they’d like to see the dessert menu.
‘I couldn’t possibly,’ Julie Williams said with a small sigh of satisfaction from having eaten a delicious meal.
‘I will,’ Russ said.
Julie raised her eyebrows. Russ was supposed to be trying to lose a few pounds that had built up around his middle from too many business lunches.
‘There’s no harm in looking,’ he said with a smile. The waiter went to fetch the menu.
‘Have whatever you fancy,’ Julie said. ‘We don’t do this often. It was a lovely suggestion, coming here. Thank you. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed it.’
‘Good, I’m pleased.’ He reached across the table and took her hand. ‘I know I don’t say it often, but you do know I love you, don’t you?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she said, returning his smile, ‘although it’s nice to hear it. I love you too.’
The waiter returned with the large leather-bound menu and set it in front of Russ, open at the dessert page.
‘I’ll give you a minute to decide,’ he said, leaving them to study it.
Russ began reading out the list of delicious desserts: ‘Chocolate fudge cake, banoffee pie, raspberry trifle, apple pie, cheesecake. Hmm.’ Julie smiled. ‘And all served with whipped cream. Are you sure I can’t tempt you?’
‘No, I couldn’t possibly. You have one though.’
Russ felt his phone in the top pocket of his shirt vibrate with an incoming text message, and took it out without taking his eyes from the menu. Then Julie’s phone in her handbag beside her chair also bleeped. He glanced up and putting the menu on the table swiped the screen on his phone. Julie took her phone from her bag. They always checked messages straightaway when they were out in case it was their babysitter with a concern about the children.
‘It’s an email from Home Security,’ Russ said. ‘Subject, camera warning.’
‘So is mine,’ Julie said, immediately concerned.
He read out the message as Julie saw the same words on her phone: ‘This is an automated message to alert you to a possible breach of security in your surveillance system. Please log in and check your cameras now. If you have forgotten your password, click on the link below.’
‘Do you think there’s something wrong?’ she asked anxiously.
‘It could be a camera malfunctioning but we should check as the message says. You know our password?’
She nodded and with mounting concern logged in.
Silence as they both viewed the images coming from the cameras in their house, less defined on the small screens of their mobiles compared to the monitor on the wall at home.
‘Everything looks all right,’ Russ said enlarging the images one at a time as much as the screen size would allow.
‘But where’s Sophie?’ Julie said. ‘I can’t see her in the living room.’
‘Making a cup of tea?’ Russ offered. ‘Or in the bathroom, or checking on the children. Don’t worry. I’m sure everything is fine but we’ll phone her to make sure.’
‘I’ll phone her mobile,’ Julie said, bringing up her list of contacts. ‘The landline will wake Jack and Phoebe.’
She pressed for Sophie’s number as Russ continued viewing the images being sent live from their cameras.
‘Come on, Sophie, pick up. Where are you?’ Julie said agitatedly as her mobile rang and rang.
‘I’ve just spotted her phone on the table in the living room,’ Russ said. ‘It’s probably on silent. Try the landline.’
Julie cut the call to Sophie’s mobile and pressed their home number. It rang and rang. Panic kicked in. ‘Where the hell is she?’ Then finally it was answered with a quiet, ‘Hello?’
‘Sophie. It’s Julie. Is everything all right?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘We had a message from the security firm saying there might be something wrong.’
‘No, everything is fine here, honestly.’
‘You took a long time to answer the phone.’
‘I’ve been upstairs checking on the children.’
‘Oh, OK. Thanks,’ she said, relieved. ‘And no one has called at the house?’
‘No.’
Julie didn’t want to panic the girl by saying the email had mentioned a possible breach in security. She’d said everything was fine so it was very likely an insect had tripped the system as had happened in the past, but this time the CCTV had triggered an automated email. ‘We won’t be long. We’re just finishing off,’ Julie said.
‘OK. No worries. See you later.’
She said goodbye and returned her phone to her bag. ‘She says everything is all right and she was checking on Jack and Phoebe. I guess it was an error?’
‘Maybe,’ Russ said hesitantly, still studying his phone and the image from the camera in their living room. On the floor beside their sofa he’d noticed two empty whisky glasses. Suddenly Sophie and a young man appeared in the living room, dishevelled and tucking in their clothes. He turned the phone to show Julie the screen.
‘Who’s that?’ she cried, her hand shooting to her mouth.
‘Boyfriend, I guess. She didn’t tell you he was coming?’
‘No, of course not!’
Russ summoned the waiter for the bill as Julie threw on her jacket.
‘No dessert or coffee, Sir?’
‘No, thank you; just the bill.’
Russ settled it quickly and they left, with him trying to reassure Julie that the children were safe, but that it made sense to go home straightaway. She didn’t need telling twice.
Outside, the chill in the autumn air seemed even sharper now and Julie pulled her jacket closer. ‘You’re taking it very well, Russ, but I’m furious with her. I trusted her implicitly. Just wait till I see her!’
‘I’m sure Sophie wouldn’t have neglected the children,’ he said, unlocking the car. ‘She’s done what many teenagers do – acted irresponsibly.’ They got in. ‘And to be honest, Jules, if she’d asked us if she could have her boyfriend round we would probably have said yes.’
‘Would we?’ Julie snapped the buckle on her seatbelt into place. ‘You might have but I certainly wouldn’t. She’s fourteen, Russ. A minor. I dread to think what her parents will say. They’ll need to know.’
‘Let’s see what Sophie has to say first, shall we?’ He started the engine and pulled away. ‘Perhaps they’ve just been sitting there playing Scrabble.’
‘It didn’t look like Scrabble to me.’
In contrast to the atmosphere and conversation during their journey to the restaurant – which had been light and convivial with the promise of a romantic meal for two at their favourite restaurant – it was now loaded with anxiety and recrimination. The silence was only broken by Julie’s morbid conjectures: ‘I can’t see how she’s been looking after the children properly if she’s been cavorting with her boyfriend … Supposing one of the children woke and saw or heard them? I bet she tried to switch off the camera in the living room so we couldn’t see them. That would have triggered the email, wouldn’t it?’
‘Yes, good point,’ Russ agreed. ‘But try to calm down, Jules, there’s no real harm been done. She said the kids are fine and we don’t want a big fall out between our families.’
Julie stiffened. When it came to the children’s safety and wellbeing she couldn’t accept Russ’s platitudes. In other circumstances two teenagers canoodling on her sofa wouldn’t have caused her the same upset and indignation, but anything to do with the children was an entirely different matter. She’d have fought off a pack of hungry wolves to protect Jack and Phoebe, so strong was her in-built maternal instinct. And of course she also felt some responsibility for Sophie, who was only fourteen and her goddaughter.
Five minutes later they pulled onto their driveway and Russ cut the engine. Julie immediately threw open her car door. ‘Let me handle it,’ Russ said, touching her arm.
With her face set in reluctant compliance, she followed him to their front door and waited as he unlocked it, glancing up at the camera. If Sophie was looking at the monitor in the hall she’d be able to see them now. Russ opened the front door and she followed him in. The house was quiet as it should be. Sophie was in the living room sitting on the sofa with the television on low.
‘Hello,’ she said sweetly, standing as they entered. ‘Did you have a nice time?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Russ said, looking around the room. There was no sign of the glass tumblers. Presumably she’d washed and dried them and returned them to the cupboard. ‘Was everything all right here?’
‘Yes. Perfectly.’ She picked up her phone ready to leave, apparently eager to go. ‘Will you be giving me a lift home or shall I call a cab?’
‘I’ll take you,’ Russ said.
Julie couldn’t contain her anger any longer. ‘Who was that lad you had here while we were out?’ she demanded.
‘Pardon?’ Sophie said indignantly. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ But her cheeks were already flushing red.
‘Don’t play the innocent with me,’ Julie flared. ‘You had your boyfriend here.’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Well, who was he then?’
‘Who?’
Sensing that Sophie was about to dig herself further into a hole with more lies, Russ stepped in. ‘Sophie, you’re not in any trouble but—’
‘Yes, she is,’ Julie put in.
‘Why? What are you accusing me of?’ Sophie hissed.
Julie pointed to the camera in the far corner of the room. ‘We saw you with your boyfriend in here.’
Sophie looked at the camera and then at them. ‘You’ve been watching me through that?’ she said astounded. ‘Spying on me!’
‘There! So we know you’re lying,’ Julie snapped.
‘No,’ Russ said touching his wife’s arm for her to calm down. ‘Not spying.’ It made them sound like voyeuristic perverts. ‘Sophie, we received an email alert saying there could be a problem with the security system so we viewed the images coming from the cameras on our phones. Not only the outside ones but the one in here too. Only for a couple of minutes.’
‘You can see all of this room?’ Sophie asked.
Russ nodded.
‘What about upstairs?’
‘There aren’t any cameras upstairs.’
‘Why do you want to know that?’ Julie demanded, but she’d already guessed. ‘You took him to our bedroom, didn’t you? You little cow. Wait till I tell your parents.’
‘No, don’t do that!’ Sophie cried, her eyes filling. ‘They’ll be furious with me.’
‘For good reason,’ Julie said. ‘Not only have you betrayed our trust but theirs too.’
‘I didn’t mean to,’ she cried. ‘I promise it won’t happen again.’
‘Too right it won’t!’ Julie fumed. ‘You won’t be babysitting for us again.’
Sophie’s tears fell.
‘All right, enough,’ Russ said stepping in. ‘I’ll take you home now.’
‘You won’t tell my parents, will you?’ Sophie asked Russ in a small, plaintive voice.
‘No, not tonight,’ he said. ‘But I think you need to talk to them.’ Then to Julie, ‘We’ll discuss this later when I get back. OK?’ He could see how wound up she was and knew she could easily phone Sophie’s parents – their long-time friends – and say something she might later regret.
Julie gave a curt nod and then, taking a twenty-pound note from her purse, thrust it at Sophie. ‘Here’s the money I owe you for tonight. Count yourself lucky I’m paying you after the way you’ve behaved.’ She turned and began towards the hall. ‘I’m going to check on the children.’
‘I’ll see you shortly then,’ Russ called after her, and led the way out to the car.
‘I’m sorry,’ Sophie said as they got in. ‘I really didn’t mean to upset you both, but please don’t tell Mum and Dad.’
‘I won’t. We all make mistakes. Jules was very worried about the children. You feel differently when you’re a parent.’
‘Thank you. Will you tell her how sorry I am?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Russ started the engine and pulled away. ‘Sophie, one thing I don’t understand is why we were sent the email alert in the first place. Do you have any idea?’ She shook her head. ‘We weren’t broken into and all the cameras are working so the only other reason I can think of is that the system was tampered with. Did you or your boyfriend touch the monitor or any of the cameras in any way? Please be honest, I’m not angry.’
‘No. Honestly. I didn’t even realize that camera in the living room was working. It wasn’t showing a picture on the screen in the hall.’
‘We only have the outside cameras showing on the monitor. So neither of you tried to switch if off?’
‘No.’
At home Julie had checked on the children – they were both sleeping peacefully – and was now downstairs viewing the recording on the monitor in the hall. She had all the camera images showing and the digital display at the bottom of the screen showed the date and time. She had rewound the tape to where Sophie had arrived to babysit at 6.50pm, and had watched her on the camera trained on their front door as she’d rung the bell and Julie had let her in. Then the camera in the living room showed the three of them talking although she couldn’t hear what they were saying as there was no sound, before she and Russ said goodbye and left. Outside, the camera covering the drive showed them getting into their car and pulling away. Julie then saw Sophie sitting on the sofa texting, presumably to tell her boyfriend they’d gone. Within five minutes he was at their front door, so either he lived in the neighbourhood or he’d been waiting out of sight close by. He didn’t press the bell so Julie guessed Sophie must have told him to text her when he arrived as the doorbell might wake the children. They kissed on the doorstep and then the camera in the living room showed the lad making himself comfortable on the sofa and Sophie leaving the room, grinning. She returned with two glasses containing what looked like gin or vodka and ice.
Ten minutes passed when they sipped their drinks, laughed, snogged and groped each other. Julie fast-forwarded the tape and then stopped as Sophie stood, picked up their empty glasses, left the living room and returned with refills. Cheeky little cow! Then sprawled on the sofa with their drinks on the table, they continued their heavy petting. At one point they stopped and cocked their heads as though they might have heard something and Julie hoped it wasn’t one of the children calling out and being ignored. Another five minutes or so and Sophie had her hand down his trousers and his mouth was on her breasts. It was getting close to the time the email had been sent. Julie looked at the footage sent from the outside cameras but nothing untoward was showing there. More heavy petting; she fast-forwarded again and then slowed the tape to ‘play’ mode again as the lad stood. Clearly aroused, he pulled Sophie up and they disappeared from view, presumably going upstairs to her bedroom to have sex.
The living room stayed empty, and the outside cameras showed no sign of any disturbance that could have tripped the alert. She continued to watch, her anger growing. Russ had been studying the dessert menu now and the emails would shortly arrive on their phones. Another few minutes and she guessed it was the time she’d phoned Sophie’s mobile, but she could see it now lying on the table in the living room. She’d then called the house phone but the living room remained empty so the little minx must have answered the extension in their bedroom. She inwardly fumed as she pictured Sophie untangling herself from her boyfriend to reach out of bed and pick up the handset, just as she and Russ did sometimes. No wonder it had taken her time to answer. She’d been having sex in their bed when she’d phoned!
A minute later she saw them rush into the living room tucking in their clothes, now aware that she and Russ were returning. The boy grabbed his jacket and went out the front door while Sophie tidied up the living room, smoothing the sofa cushions, taking out the glasses. She reappeared in the living room, sat on the sofa and switched on the television. Then to her horror Julie saw her daughter appear in the doorway of the living room, possibly woken by the home phone ringing. She watched as Sophie went over to her and disappeared from view, she assumed taking Phoebe back upstairs to bed. She must have only just dropped off to sleep again when they’d arrived home.
Julie watched as she and Russ came in, her face set in anger and shouting at Sophie while Russ tried to keep the peace. She saw herself thrust the twenty-pound note into Sophie’s hand, then leave to check on the children while Russ took Sophie home. Thank goodness nothing worse had happened, she thought, and thank goodness they’d taken the engineer’s advice and had a camera installed in the living room or they’d never have known. What was it he’d said? Many of my clients who take this option are surprised by what they find goes on in their absence. He’d certainly been right there! Returning the screen to the real time images, Julie left the monitor and went upstairs to change the linen on their bed.
Chapter Ten (#ulink_e33a9c1f-77f7-503a-9e67-cb21994d0eee)
‘It is a sad fact that stabbings and break-ins are very good for business,’ Derek said to Paul as he drew the van to a halt outside U-Beat nightclub. It felt strange coming back here after what had happened but there was a job to be done. ‘If everyone was kind to each other and obeyed the law I’d be out of work and there’d be no apprenticeship for you.’ Derek threw him a wry smile. ‘As it is people behave like animals with callous disregard for their fellow human beings, so business is flourishing.’
Paul nodded disinterestedly as he checked his phone. He’d heard similar before from Derek. Derek turned slightly towards him in his seat and Paul knew what was coming next: a description of the job they were about to do. Derek often repeated himself as if no one else grasped anything first time, which Paul supposed came from living with his mother who was old.
‘So we’re going to install two cameras today – one at the end of that alley over there that runs alongside the nightclub.’ He pointed.
‘Where Kev was stabbed,’ Paul said.
‘Yes. And the second camera at the rear of the premises. It’s straightforward. They’ve also asked me to check if any additional cameras are needed inside, but I think they’re well covered. Ready then, lad? Phone off or on silent. I know it’s not a private home but the same rules apply.’
‘Of course,’ Paul said amicably, switching his phone to silent and sliding it into the pocket of his jeans. ‘Are you leaving the van here? It’s on a yellow line.’
‘I know,’ Derek said, irritated, ‘but there aren’t any parking bays free and we’re trade so I can leave it here while we unload.’
‘The last time you did that you got ticketed,’ Paul reminded him with a smirk.
‘And if you remember it was rescinded on appeal. They need to train their traffic wardens better.’ His hand was on the door ready to get out when his phone vibrated with an incoming call. He checked to see who the caller was and pressed to accept the call. ‘I won’t be a minute, lad,’ he said to Paul. Then, ‘Good morning, Mr Williams.’
‘Is that Derek Flint?’
‘Yes. How are you and Mrs Williams?’
‘Well, thank you. I’m sorry to trouble you but my wife and I both received email alerts to our phones yesterday evening about a breach of security.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘You do?’
‘A copy of any alert comes to me. I saw it this morning.’
‘OK. So do you know why it was sent? We’ve been through the tape twice but can’t see any reason. We were out at the time and the message gave us quite a shock. We went straight home.’
‘There was no need to do that,’ Derek said. ‘The advantage of being able to access your cameras online is that you can check all is well from a distance without the need to dash home. I’m sorry, I should have made that clear.’
There was a short silence. ‘Our babysitter was here looking after the children so we thought it best to return. But we’re puzzled as to what could have tripped the system.’
‘I see.’ Derek pondered. So he wasn’t going to share what he’d seen when he’d logged in. ‘Mr Williams, I remember you said you trusted your babysitter implicitly but to be honest the most likely cause for the email alert was that the system was interfered with, assuming your house wasn’t broken into. Do you think your sitter might have tried to turn off one of the cameras without the correct password?’
‘She says she didn’t touch anything.’
‘In that case the internal camera could have been triggered. It has an in-built motion detector. If there was a lot of movement in the living room, for example, by someone dancing or jumping maybe, it could have triggered the alert.’
‘Oh. Yes, that could have been it.’
‘These cameras are very sensitive; they’re meant to be. But if it happens again give me a call and I’ll come and check. I can adjust it if necessary, although given what happened to you before you had the cameras I would think you want everything working as it should be.’
‘Yes, of course. Well, thank you. I’ll tell my wife.’
‘You’re welcome. Was there anything else?’
‘No, that’s it. Goodbye then.’
‘Goodbye, Mr Williams.’ Derek returned the phone to his jacket pocket as Paul looked at him questioningly. ‘Nothing for you to worry about, lad. Now come on, out you get, there’s work to be done.’
‘They haven’t caught the geezer who stabbed Kev the bouncer,’ Paul said half an hour later as Derek came down from the ladder they’d propped against the side of the club.
‘Apparently not.’
‘I read in the paper they are still appealing for witnesses which means they haven’t a clue,’ Paul said.
‘It would have been a different matter if they’d had one of these installed in the alley,’ Derek said, taking the new camera from its box. He’d marked the position where the camera had to be and now passed it to Paul. ‘You know what to do. So no more talking. Concentrate on the job and remember you’re at the top of a ladder so don’t step back.’
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Lisa Stone
Someone is always watching…
Derek Flint is a loner. He lives with his mother and spends his
evenings watching his clients on the CCTV cameras he has installed inside their homes. He likes their companionship – even if it’s through a screen.
When a series of crimes hits Derek’s neighbourhood, DC Beth Mayes begins to suspect he’s involved. How does he know so much about the victims’ lives? Why won’t he let anyone into his office? And what is his mother hiding in that strange, lonely house?
As the crimes become more violent, Beth must race against the clock to find out who is behind the attacks. Will she uncover the truth in time? And is Derek more dangerous than even she has guessed?
A spellbinding crime novel from the worldwide bestseller
Cathy Glass, writing as Lisa Stone.
‘Once you start you won’t be able to stop!’
Katerina Diamond, Sunday Times bestselling author of The Teacher
LISA STONE
Stalker
Copyright (#u777c9c04-e483-5d9b-ab36-67ae92eb85e6)
Published by Avon an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street,
London, SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2018
Copyright © Lisa Stone 2018
Cover photograph © Arcangel
Cover design © www.headdesign.co.uk (http://www.headdesign.co.uk) 2018
Lisa Stone asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008236724
Ebook Edition © June 2018 ISBN: 9780008236731
Version: 2018-05-09
PRAISE FOR LISA STONE (#u777c9c04-e483-5d9b-ab36-67ae92eb85e6)
‘The Darkness Withinhooked me from the start. Once you start you won’t be able to stop!’
Katerina Diamond, No.1 bestselling author of The Teacher
‘This is a cracking good read that had me hooked from the beginning until the end. Full of murders, spiritualistic intrigue and just a hint of romance. It is quick paced, extremely thought provoking and full of twists and turns. I didn’t want to put this book down.’
Amazon reviewer
‘Fantastic book, couldn’t turn the pages quickly enough!’
Amazon reviewer
‘A well-written and extremely addictive novel that will stick in your head long after putting it down.’
Amazon reviewer
‘I flew through The Darkness Within; it maintained a dark and gritty atmosphere whilst covering some rather disturbing subject matters. But despite there being some very emotive and hard to read scenes described, I raced through the pages desperate to know how it would end and I certainly wasn’t disappointed.’
Goodreads reviewer
‘A unique plot and storyline – I enjoyed the book immensely. It really makes you think.’
Goodreads reviewer
‘What a powerful novel. I have read all of Cathy Glass’s books and here she is writing under a new name Lisa Stone. I love the fact she has branched into crime thriller and I think she has done it really well.’
Goodreads reviewer
‘I really enjoyed this. Interesting and captivating story line, great characters and easy to read – not the subject matter which is difficult, dark and pretty violent, but the style of writing. A gripping thriller.’
Goodreads reviewer
‘The Darkness Within is certainly a dark and gripping read and one that will win over new fans as well as old.’
Goodreads reviewer
‘With areas that lead us to the dark depths of our own imagination, and parts so well described you could almost be in the same room, The Darkness Within is a struggle to leave unfinished.’
Amazon reviewer
‘Thank you Lisa Stone for making my long train journey feel like a ten minute ride! I will now look forward to your next book.’
Amazon reviewer
‘A great read. The author has a style of writing that makes the words just flow off the page and as the story develops it’s a difficult book to put down as you want to know how it’s all going to end.’
Amazon reviewer
‘Absolutely fantastic, I could not put it down. Cannot recommend this book highly enough. You will become addicted to this author.’
Amazon reviewer
‘An enjoyable chiller for the summer reading pile!’
Goodreads reviewer
‘I loved the premise, it appealed to the horror/sci-fi loving side of me. Lisa understands human relationships and the ugly side of people very well, and this shone through in her work.’
Amazon reviewer
‘Lisa Stone writes with a clear, uncomplicated style – dramatic and readable.’
Lovereading.com
‘Fast-paced and full of tension from the very first page.’
Blogspot.co.uk
‘This is an exceptionally well-written thriller.’
Waterstones 5* review
‘What an amazing book! I love a thriller but this is really something. It’d be great as a movie too!’
Twitter reviewer
‘Totally gripping.’
Facebook reviewer
‘Impossible to put down!’
Facebook reviewer
Dedication (#u777c9c04-e483-5d9b-ab36-67ae92eb85e6)
Acknowledgements: A big thank you to my editor, Phoebe, my literary agent, Andrew, and all the team at Avon, HarperCollins.
Security cameras are there to keep us safe, aren’t they?
Table of Contents
Cover (#uef78f30a-26a8-55cf-81be-61be5aa17d83)
Title Page (#u5e82721e-c817-5df3-ba5d-339a861641a4)
Copyright (#u53f91b37-55ee-58c8-8b31-b835628e7a21)
Praise for Lisa Stone (#uee453d47-f0fe-5993-a5e8-2d5d46701161)
Dedication (#uea0df999-235b-548c-ae36-0c169d8732f0)
Epigraph (#u50943a9c-8c83-5b0c-95b2-9ea2f2536c06)
Chapter One (#u54aff448-f41e-59cf-a955-e1761d9aa661)
Chapter Two (#uaaf1ded0-fa54-53d1-a795-f1e1f9ad3e42)
Chapter Three (#uc9652ed7-5273-5f63-a95f-b8ff22504dd2)
Chapter Four (#ue388dce1-bd95-54cc-beb7-e03447108419)
Chapter Five (#uaa821ba1-0b48-5e7d-97b9-ddfc7e23e54f)
Chapter Six (#u0f087a0f-f37e-53de-a0de-12522bd638f7)
Chapter Seven (#u12988830-da52-5af4-b119-7881f04ee674)
Chapter Eight (#u79545b7a-4f04-5119-bfe8-8f55484f361b)
Chapter Nine (#ud8c9f241-6401-534c-b56b-bc8590719ead)
Chapter Ten (#ud047558f-66e1-55a4-bab4-4250c947e3b9)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Author’s Note (#litres_trial_promo)
Suggested Topics for Reading Group Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading … (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Books by Lisa Stone (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u777c9c04-e483-5d9b-ab36-67ae92eb85e6)
He woke with a start. Eyes wide open and senses alert. Flat on his back.
Julie slept on beside him; blissfully unaware he was awake. She could sleep through anything, he thought – thunderstorms, the neighbour’s dog barking, cats fighting. Out for the count. Although there were none of those noises now. It was all quiet.
Perhaps it was one of the children having a dream that had woken him? Or the urban motorbike racer? It came out of nowhere, completed a full throttle lap of the area and then disappeared back into the night. It was a pastime that seemed to be growing in popularity, according to the local newspaper and the outrage of residents. Didn’t urban racers have to be up in the morning to go to work? Obviously not, Russ thought with a stab of irritation, but then how did they afford such powerful bikes? He glanced at the luminous digital display of the bedside clock radio. 2.10am. Damn. He was wide awake now.
He listened again for the noise that had woken him but the house remained quiet. Maybe it had been one of the children – Jack or Phoebe – having a dream and they’d now turned over and gone back to sleep? Or perhaps there’d been no external stimuli and he’d been jarred awake by his thoughts? Prodded to consciousness by a worry that hadn’t been settled the night before. But he couldn’t think of what. His mind was clear. Usually any unresolved issue or anxiety remained when he woke so his mind was already occupied with a half-formed rationale or incomplete sentence, but not now. There was nothing bothering him, apart from a vague reminder to return his mother’s phone call, which he would do as soon as he had the chance. She was overdue a visit and Julie had taken her last three calls. Yet while he felt a passing guilt for neglecting his mother, it wasn’t enough to have woken him.
He gazed towards the slightly parted curtains and the inky night sky beyond. No moon to wake him, no noise and he didn’t need a pee. It was unlike him to wake for absolutely no reason. He’d check on the children to put his mind to rest and then try to return to sleep. Busy day at work tomorrow. He needed to be fresh and alert.
Easing back the duvet so he didn’t disturb Julie, Russ noiselessly left the bed. Although their bedroom was in darkness, a small strip of light shone under their door from the night light on the landing. Plugged into the wall socket at floor level and mainly for the children’s benefit, it gave enough light if any of them needed to use the bathroom in the night without having to switch on the main landing light and risk waking the whole household. He’d check on Phoebe first; at four years old she was the most likely candidate, calling out in her sleep or not wanting to use the bathroom alone because of the monster she thought lived there.
Barefoot, Russ padded silently along the carpeted landing to her bedroom. He placed his hand on the door and was about to push it open when the ear-shattering shriek of the intruder alarm pierced the air. His heart lurched from the shock and his breath caught in his throat as the hairs stood up on his neck.
‘Russ? What is it?’ Julie cried, coming out of their bedroom.
At the same time Phoebe’s panicked cries came from inside her room.
‘Mummy! Mummy!’
‘Mum! Dad!’ Jack shouted over the screech of the alarm.
‘It’s OK, the alarm’s tripped out like it did before,’ he called back, quelling his own shock. ‘I’m going down now to switch if off. Mummy will stay with you.’
Russ began downstairs, the siren’s ear-piercing screech painfully deafening, as Julie went to pacify the children. He couldn’t have tripped the alarm himself; it was on the night-time setting – off upstairs but on downstairs and in the garage. Usually the last one to bed and first up in the morning, it was his job to change the setting and he did it automatically. Doubtless a fly or other small insect had passed by a sensor and set it off. It had happened before; a tiny spider running across the sensor or a lone fly shut in a room tripping the alarm in its frantic search for an exit. A small insect instilling panic in a house of humans!
Descending the last two stairs, he crossed to the alarm control box on the wall in the hall. The green LED bell symbol was flashing frantically, telling him the alarm had been activated. As if he didn’t know! He quickly entered the five-digit code – Julie’s birthday. Then silence – wonderful, peaceful quiet – although his eardrums were still buzzing and would do so for a while. He’d leave the alarm off and then check the sensors were clean tomorrow when he returned home from work. Otherwise, he was likely to spend the rest of the night in fitful sleep, bracing himself for the alarm accidentally going off again.
The hall was darker now with the alarm’s warning light no longer flashing. He began towards the foot of the stairs; he could hear Julie’s voice upstairs soothing Phoebe back to sleep. He took one step onto the staircase, and then a sharp thump on the back of his head. A cry escaped his lips, and he had a vague sensation of falling before he hit the ground. Then nothing. No sight or sound, no more thoughts; just an all-consuming darkness.
Chapter Two (#u777c9c04-e483-5d9b-ab36-67ae92eb85e6)
‘I came down and found him,’ Julie said, tears springing to her eyes again. ‘The police said there were two of them working the area. There’ve been a number of similar break-ins …’ She was on the phone to her mother-in-law, having to go through it all again, but of course she’d want to know the details; Russ was her son. ‘Yes, they levered the window in the study and were in the living room taking whatever they could find when the alarm went off, and Russ disturbed them. Pity he went down. We should have left them to take what they wanted … Yes, he’s home now, in bed resting … Yes, four stitches … I’m just going to make him a cup of tea. I will. Goodbye.’
She returned the handset to its cradle, wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes and went into the kitchen to make Russ the tea. His mother had been right when she’d said it could have been worse. So much worse. Those evil men might have gone upstairs and into their bedrooms. She trembled at the possibility. Thieves knew that most women kept their jewellery in jewellery boxes in their bedroom, the police officer had said. So in that respect she supposed they’d been lucky, spared the horror of having to live with the knowledge that those monsters had been in their rooms while they slept. And in Jack’s and Phoebe’s rooms! What if the children had woken and seen them? Would they too have been witnesses that needed silencing? She recoiled at the prospect. It didn’t bear thinking about.
Neither did the possibility that they could have killed Russ when they’d hit him with the metal crowbar they’d used for levering open the study window. A life without Russ was unthinkable, as were all the other more horrendous scenarios. Although she wasn’t sure these platitudes helped. She felt physically sick, weak, and couldn’t stop crying. It had truly been a living nightmare.
Filling the kettle, she switched it on and then leant against the work surface as she waited for it to boil. It was only 6.30pm but in November the evening was already dark. The curtains and blinds were closed, all the lights were on, and the study window had been repaired but it still didn’t feel safe.
DC Beth Mayes’ words rang in her head: that they needed to review their security. ‘When it comes to break-ins, lightning often does strikes twice in the same place, sometimes more,’ she’d said.
One house she’d been called to had been burgled three times in as many months, with the burglars waiting just long enough between their ‘visits’ for the goods to be replaced. A professional couple who’d lost their laptops, iPads and phones three times. New-for-old insurance meant the replacements had a higher street value than the originals so why wouldn’t the thieves go back?
Detached houses in leafy suburbs were easy and rich pickings, she’d said. They needed to upgrade their security and possibly consider CCTV, which could be installed for less than the price of the average family holiday. Russ was researching it now upstairs on his old laptop, which they thankfully hadn’t taken.
The kettle boiled and clicked off. Heaving herself away from the support of the worktop, Julie took a mug from the cupboard. It was too quiet in the house without Phoebe and Jack. They were staying with her parents for tonight at least, possibly for a few days. Her parents had collected them from the hospital in the early hours, which had allowed Julie to concentrate on Russ, and meant that the police could look over the house uninterrupted – fingerprinting; taking their statements; collecting evidence. From the muddy footprints on the patio it appeared it had been two men who’d come over the fence from next door. No sign of the crowbar they’d used that would have Russ’s blood on it, no sign of a getaway vehicle on their neighbour’s CCTV, and none of the neighbours had seen or heard anything. Not surprising really at 2am.
Glancing anxiously over her shoulder – every little noise spooked her – Julie took a tea bag from the caddy and tried to concentrate on making the tea. How long before the house felt safe again? She doubted it ever would. It wasn’t so much the physical damage – the window had been repaired – but the psychological and emotional damage, as the police officer had said. Beth Mayes had given them a business card and said someone from victim support would be in touch. Wiping her eyes again, she added a splash of milk to the tea and began upstairs to their bedroom.
Russ was sitting propped up in bed with the laptop open in front of him, looking positive. Apart from the small shaved patch on the top of his head with its four blood-encrusted stitches you wouldn’t have known anything was wrong. When the nurse had finished cleaning and stitching the wound, the doctor had said Russ could go home but to rest and take paracetamol as and when needed, and return to the hospital if he experienced a severe headache, blurred vision or dizziness. Russ was made of strong stuff and had only come to bed because Julie had insisted.
‘How’s the head?’ she asked, setting the mug on his bedside cabinet.
‘Not so bad. Could have been worse.’
‘That’s what your mother said – could have been worse.’ She kissed his cheek and sat on the edge of the bed, keeping her gaze away from the wound, which made her flinch.
‘And you still don’t remember what happened?’ she asked as he took a sip of the tea.
‘No. Not after getting out of bed. I came to in the ambulance.’
‘Lucky you,’ she said. ‘I’ll never forget it.’ Tears filled her eyes again as the images flashed before her. His cry, the front door banging shut as the intruders fled. Her running downstairs and finding him unconscious and bleeding from the head. Frantically calling for an ambulance as the children stood at the top of the stairs screaming and crying. Then the wait, seemingly endless although it was only ten minutes, as she held his hand and prayed he’d make it.
‘Perhaps we should move?’ she said. ‘I can’t imagine ever feeling safe here again.’
‘Of course you will,’ he said, squeezing her hand. ‘I’ll make sure of it. We’ve only just finished doing up this place. It’s our dream home. They’re not going to drive us out. Look, Jules, I’ve learnt a lot online about thieves, how they work and how to stop them. Come and sit beside me and I’ll show you. I’ll make sure we’re all safe, I promise you, love.’
She went round to her side of the bed and propped herself beside him, resting her head lightly against his shoulder, his familiar warm smell now slightly tinged with antiseptic from the hospital. He took a couple of sips of his tea and set the mug on his beside cabinet.
‘It used to be the case that burglars usually only entered unoccupied property,’ he began, ‘but apparently the profile of the offender has changed according to this. It’s often not the old-style burglar making a living from breaking and entering, but drug users desperate and willing to risk everything for their next fix. Intruder alarms are no longer considered adequate, even if they’re linked to a police alert. Most thieves know that they have time to break in, grab portable valuables and easily disposed-of items, and be long gone before the patrol car arrives. And it’s men and women, although female drug addicts are more likely to resort to prostitution for drug money.’
Typical of Russ to research in so much detail, Julie thought. If he embarked on a project – whether it was at home or work – he did so thoroughly, researching and reviewing all aspects before he made a decision. As he continued profiling the would-be intruder and then showed her web pages with various security options for protecting their home, she began to feel some of the tautness in her body ease and she started to relax.
‘I’ve emailed three security firms to come and give us quotes,’ he said. ‘We’ll get the job done properly by a specialist firm with lots of experience. This firm is my favourite so far.’ He opened the company’s web page. ‘It’s a family-run business, established twenty years ago. Plenty of five-star reviews. Don’t worry, I’ll be here when they visit, and I’ve cancelled my meeting in Germany next week. I won’t do another overnight until we’ve got our security system upgraded and CCTV installed.’ Closing the laptop, he set it on the floor beside the bed and drew her to him. ‘It’ll be fine, Jules. I promise you. I haven’t let you down yet, have I?’
‘No,’ she agreed and snuggled closer, pressing her cheek against his strong protective chest.
‘It was a dreadful experience,’ he said softly into her hair. ‘Especially for you and the children. But the memory will fade in time. It’ll certainly make a good after-dinner story.’ He nuzzled her ear, kissing the lobe. ‘I know a very good way to take our minds off it. With the children at your parents and us already in bed, it’s an opportunity too good to miss.’
And as Russ’s hand found its way into her bra and the first flush of desire made her nipples stand firm and erect, the horror of the previous night began to fade. ‘Just be careful you don’t bang your head on the headboard,’ she whispered with a smile.
‘There’s a solution for that,’ he returned; ‘you on top. Now, no more bad thoughts.’
‘No, big boy.’
Chapter Three (#ulink_aac386fd-1aaa-5fed-be75-912e4dae009b)
Derek Flint sat in his smart blue van bearing the logo of his company and, with mounting anticipation, surveyed the house and street. He’d already checked out the area on Google satellite map and street view as he did all the properties he was asked to visit – no doubt the thieves probably had too. The amount of information available on the Internet was astounding, and frightening if it got in the wrong hands. But it made his job that much easier, and very likely that of the thieves as well.
His expert eye noted that one of their neighbours had the full works from a rival security firm. A stylish alarm box on the front of their house, correctly placed CCTV cameras and two motion-activated floodlights. Their other neighbour had nothing beyond a ‘Beware of the Dog’ sign on the side gate, which could only be effective if it was a Rottweiler or similar dog, trained to attack, and not a house pet. When he’d driven down the road he’d also picked out dummy alarm boxes with fake CCTV cameras. He’d made a mental note of their addresses. Who on earth did they think they were fooling?
Derek checked his face in the van’s interior mirror and smoothed his hair. It was important he looked smart and presentable in his line of business, but not suited up like an estate agent or used-car salesman. You needed to instil confidence in prospective clients; these people had had a dreadful shock and felt vulnerable. Calling his business a family firm helped, and so did what he wore: navy trousers and a light-blue cotton shirt under a navy sweater bearing the company’s logo. Navy was the colour the police and security wore and engendered feelings of safety and dependability.
Picking up his clipboard and an information pack for the clients from the passenger seat, he opened the van door and got out. It was exactly 9.30am. He was a stickler for being on time. It was important not to inconvenience prospective clients by arriving very early; and certainly not late – that was disrespectful. He couldn’t tolerate disrespect, lateness, slovenly or sloppy behaviour. It infuriated him. He upheld punctuality, accuracy, diligence, respect and accountability, much of which he felt was now lacking in today’s society.
Opening the low front gate, he took in the two-year-old modest family car on the driveway – a middle-income family, he decided. He relatched the gate behind him and walked up the path, noticing the shrubbery that partially concealed the sideway. It was a well-maintained house, only recently modernized, so they obviously had some money. He pressed the doorbell and waited. Doubtless they’d seen his van, as would most of their neighbours. A break-in, especially one with violence, was very good for his business.
He knew that the owners, Julie and Russ Williams, were a married couple in their late thirties with two young children, most of which he’d discovered from the Internet, together with photographs of their last family holiday, and the children’s birthday parties held in the back garden. So he had a picture of the rear of the house – just like the thieves. If people only knew how accessible their information was they’d be more careful sharing it. Smoothing his hair again, Derek cleared his throat as the front door opened.
‘Good morning. Derek Flint from Home Security,’ he said, handing the man his business card.
‘Good morning. Russ Williams.’ A firm handshake. ‘Come in. This is my wife Julie.’ Derek made a point of wiping his feet on the mat – it was only polite – then stepped in and shook Mrs Williams’ hand.
‘A pleasure to meet you. I was so sorry to learn of your break-in.’ His brow furrowed with concern. ‘I wish I could have seen you both sooner but I was fully booked all last week.’
‘Not a problem, you’re here now,’ Russ said. Julie threw him a weak smile.
‘Please don’t worry. We’ll soon have this place secure,’ he reassured her.
‘You understand we’re having other quotes,’ Russ said.
‘Yes, of course.’ He gave a small self-deprecating nod.
‘Would you like a coffee?’ Julie asked.
‘Perhaps at the end? If you don’t mind I’d like to crack on. I’ve a very busy day ahead.’ It was important they knew how in demand he was.
‘I’ll show you around and explain what we’ve got in mind,’ Russ said. ‘I’ve been researching what we need online.’
Everyone was an expert now with the Internet, Derek thought but didn’t say. ‘Excellent. It’s always so much easier if the homeowner is well informed. This is for you.’ He put the information pack firmly into Russ’s hand. Clients were always impressed with glossy brochures. ‘I’ll talk you through it later after I’ve had a look around, if that’s all right with you?’
‘Absolutely. So this is the living room,’ Russ said, leading the way from the hall.
Derek stepped aside to allow Mrs Williams to go first and then followed with his clipboard and pen poised.
‘As you know from our telephone conversation,’ Russ continued, ‘the thieves got in through the study and then crossed the living room and attacked me in the hall. The alarm did its job but without cameras there’s little chance of identifying them. So we were thinking of cameras at the rear, sides and front of the house.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Derek said, making a note. ‘I agree.’ He followed Russ and his wife into the study.
‘They levered that picture window,’ Julie exclaimed, pointing, the fear returning to her eyes.
‘The new ones can’t be levered out,’ Russ added. ‘They’re being replaced tomorrow.’
‘Good,’ Derek said. Russ had certainly done his homework. He nodded thoughtfully, looked around and made another note, then followed them out of the study, back across the living room, and into the kitchen-cum-diner that ran the entire depth of the house. All recently refurbished with yards of glinting polished granite work surfaces. Incredible how some people prioritized their spending. Forty thousand plus on a new kitchen but leave in a crap alarm system.
‘You’ve got a lovely home,’ Derek enthused.
‘Thank you,’ Julie said.
‘So we need to protect it and keep you and your family safe from the scum who steal rather than work.’
‘Exactly my feeling,’ Russ agreed. Derek thought it would be.
He made a quick sketch of the downstairs and then asked to see upstairs. Russ led the way up to the landing and then in and out of the four bedrooms, the family bathroom and downstairs again.
‘Lovely house,’ Derek said again, ingratiating himself a little further.
Russ opened the door to the cloakroom so Derek could see in and then led them through the garage and outside, where he pointed out where he thought the cameras should be sited.
‘I agree.’ Derek nodded, adding them to the sketch. He then spent a few moments looking interestedly at the back of the house and garden while omitting to say he was already familiar with the outside of their house from the Internet.
‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Shall we go inside now and I’ll talk you through what I have in mind – incorporating your wishes, of course. And perhaps,’ he said, turning to Julie with a humble smile, ‘I could take you up on your kind offer of a coffee? It would be most welcome.’
‘Yes, of course.’
While Julie made coffee, Derek sat with Russ at the oak dining table at the other end of the kitchen-diner and set out the brochures and paperwork, waiting until Julie returned with their drinks before beginning. Women expected to be involved now.
‘So this is an outline of your house,’ he said, pointing to the plan he’d sketched. ‘I’m proposing siting the cameras here, here, here and here – more or less where you suggested.’ Russ looked pleased. ‘These are the cameras I use.’ He showed them the glossy leaflet. ‘I always recommend spending the money on decent high-definition cameras. They give you excellent daytime vision and infrared at night. They are more expensive but the images are so sharp the police can use them to identify suspects. Not that you will be broken into again once this is all installed.’
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ Julie said.
‘I explained to my wife that the reason one of the other quotes was so cheap was because they used analogue cameras,’ Russ said.
‘Exactly. You are well informed. I’ll run the external wiring in conduit.’
‘What’s that?’ Julie asked.
‘It’s a hard plastic tube that protects the wires so they can’t be cut,’ Russ said.
‘I couldn’t have explained it better myself,’ Derek said, flashing him an approving smile. ‘It’s the safest option otherwise a would-be intruder would simply snip through the wire and disconnect the camera. Most intruders carry wire cutters. It’s a small additional cost to you but worth it.’
‘Oh yes, we must have those conduits,’ Julie agreed, shuddering at the recollection of their break-in.
Derek made a note. ‘In respect of the monitor I suggest this fifteen-inch colour monitor.’ He opened another leaflet.
‘You wouldn’t run it through the television then?’ Russ enquired.
‘No. It’s the less expensive option but using the television as your surveillance monitor is cumbersome and ineffective in practice. If you have a separate monitor you just glance at it. I would suggest situating it in the hall.’
‘We’ll have the monitor you recommend,’ Russ said. ‘What about voice warning alarms? You know those that give a recorded warning message – you are being recorded on CCTV – or similar.’
‘I can install one if you wish – it’s not a problem – but I don’t usually use them.’
‘Why not?’
‘They can be very annoying to neighbours and in practice they are more likely to deter your newspaper boy than a would-be intruder. I think the money would be better spent on additional security lights.’ He paused for their reaction. He never rushed his clients.
‘Yes, go ahead,’ Russ said. ‘We have one security light down the sideway so we can see our way to the bins.’
‘Noted,’ Derek said. ‘And I would suggest another at the rear and down the other sideway.’
‘Not at the front as well?’ Russ queried.
‘Not necessary. You have the ornamental down lights, which you leave on all night.’
‘How did you know we left them on?’ Russ asked, looking at him.
A slight hesitation before Derek replied. ‘You seem sensible and it’s a reasonable precaution to illuminate the front of the house rather than leaving it in darkness.’ He smiled reassuringly and moved on. ‘That’s the external security taken care of. Have you considered having a surveillance camera indoors?’
‘Whatever for?’ Julie asked surprised. ‘There’s only us and the children here.’
‘You don’t ever use a nanny, au pair, babysitter or cleaner?’ Derek queried, assured of the answer.
‘We have a cleaner,’ Julie replied. ‘But she’s been with us for years. Our babysitter is our goddaughter, a lovely girl. I trust them both.’
‘I’m sure you do – as would most folk – but many of my clients who take this option are surprised by what they find goes on in their absence. I’m not trying to scare you into buying something you’re not comfortable with, but I wouldn’t be doing my job properly if I didn’t suggest all the options. Think about it and let me know. If you do decide to go ahead I would suggest one camera in the living room. You can easily turn it off on the monitor so you don’t have to keep seeing yourselves.’
‘We’ll think about it,’ Russ said.
Derek nodded. ‘Nearly finished,’ he said, glancing at his watch. ‘I won’t keep you much longer. Now to the NVR – that’s the video recorder. It records constantly and keeps the recording for thirty days and then resets. I’d like to situate it out of the way in the garage.
‘That’s fine,’ Russ said.
‘And last but certainly not least I’d recommend connecting your surveillance system to the Internet, so you can watch your home and see it is safe when you’re out.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Russ said.
‘You’ll be able to access your CCTV on your phone, tablet or laptop. Here, let me show you my office.’ He always gave this little demonstration although clients rarely needed convincing. Blokes especially were eager to sign up to the latest online technology and impress their mates and work colleagues.
He placed his phone on the table between them so they could both see it and tapped the icon. ‘There’s my office,’ he said proudly as the image displayed. ‘It’s empty at present, as it should be; we’re all out on jobs. There’s the lockup where I keep the vans overnight. The system I have is the same as the one I would install here. See how sharp the images are.’ They both nodded enthusiastically, clearly impressed, as most clients were. He allowed them time to savour the images as he zoomed in and out. ‘And here’s my home,’ he continued, swiping the screen. ‘Again, the same system I would use here.’ Julie peered closely at the webcam images of the inside of his home.
‘Do you live alone?’ she asked, which took him by surprise.
‘Why do you ask?’ he said, and closed the website.
‘Just wondered; me being nosy, I guess.’
He raised a polite smile and returned the phone to his pocket. ‘Do either of you have any questions about anything I’ve said? Apart from my private life,’ he added. He saw her glance at him, unsure if he was serious.
‘I don’t think we have; you’ve been very thorough,’ Russ said. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll email my quote to you this evening. Go through it, and have a look at the literature. Let me know if you have any questions.’ He gathered together his papers, finished his coffee, and stood.
‘If we were to accept your quote,’ Russ said as they began towards the door, ‘how soon could you do the work?’
He looked at them thoughtfully. ‘Hmm, I have a big job starting the week after next at a building contractors. You obviously want this place securing as soon as possible to stop the same thing happening again.’ He paused. ‘I tell you what, this work here should only take me a day, so, if you were to give me the go ahead tomorrow, I’ll have it fitted for you by the end of the week. How does that sound?’
‘Very good,’ Russ said, and Julie nodded.
‘Well, nice meeting you both and thank you for the coffee.’ They arrived in the hall and shook hands.
‘Try not to worry,’ he said to Julie. ‘We’ll soon have you safe again.’
‘Thank you, I feel safer already.’
‘Good.’
He’d be very surprised if he didn’t get the work.
Chapter Four (#ulink_7c0a443c-5ce9-5b2f-8260-78e905a28153)
‘Very nice,’ Paul Mellows said, as they pulled onto the driveway. For a moment Derek thought he was referring to him. ‘The house … it’s a nice pad,’ Paul clarified.
‘Oh yes.’ Derek nodded and switched off the engine, silencing a wave of disappointment ‘So remember, we wipe our shoes on their doormat before we go in. It’s these little marks of respect that clients appreciate.’
Paul sighed. ‘I always do, don’t I?’
Derek glanced at him with an appreciative smile. ‘You’re better than many of my apprentices, I’ll give you that.’ Paul was an attractive lad with fair hair and blue-grey eyes, but at eighteen he was brash with the misplaced confidence of someone who thought they knew it all. ‘Eight twenty-nine. Nearly time to go. Is your phone off or on silent?’
‘It will be.’
‘And remember, we address our clients by their title and surname, so it’s Mr and Mrs Williams to you.’
Paul stifled another sigh. ‘I know. And we don’t accept the first drink they offer even though I’m gasping and didn’t have time for breakfast.’
‘And whose fault would that be?’ Derek asked indulgently.
‘Mum’s for not getting up on time.’
‘You’re old enough to get your own breakfast. So you know the routine.’ Derek opened his door. ‘You stay in the van while I ring the bell and make sure they are all up and ready for us. And no shaking their hands,’ he added, his lip curling into a smile. ‘Who knows what you’ve been doing with those hands at your age.’
‘Wouldn’t you like to know.’
Derek looked away as Paul’s phone bleeped with a message. ‘Girlfriend?’ he asked as he got out.
‘None of your business.’
Derek left him to it. Despite his impertinence Paul was learning the trade fast, possibly a bit too fast. He’d had to keep a closer eye on him. He rang the doorbell. The Williams were up and expecting him. With a brief ‘good morning’, he returned to the van for the equipment they needed, tapping on Paul’s window as he passed.
‘Thank God it’s Friday,’ Paul moaned as he got out and joined his boss at the rear of the van.
‘You want to count yourself lucky you have a job. There’s a lot unemployed among your age group, and you’re learning a trade.’
‘So you’ve told me before.’
Ignoring his slight, Derek passed Paul two toolboxes from the rear of the van and locked the van doors. Mr and Mrs Williams were waiting for them in the hall.
‘This is my apprentice, Paul.’
‘Hello,’ Paul said, giving his shoes a cursory wipe on the mat.
‘Hi. Would you both like a drink before you start work?’ Julie offered.
‘No, thank you,’ Derek replied. ‘I’d like to get going, if you don’t mind.’
‘And you, Paul?’
‘I have to do as the boss says.’
‘We’ll leave our tools in the garage and set up camp in there, if that’s alright with you?’ Derek said to Russ. ‘Save us keep going in and out of your front door.’
‘Fine,’ Russ said. ‘I’m working from home today so if you need anything I’ll be in the study, and my wife will be around too.’
‘We’ll try not to disturb you,’ Derek said.
‘Anything else you need?’ Russ asked.
‘I don’t believe so.’
‘I’ll leave you to it then.’
‘Thank you.’ He gave a little bow.
Paul stifled a smile.
In the two months he’d been working for Derek, Paul had learnt that the company was nowhere near the size his boss liked to pretend – indeed as far as he was aware there was just the two of them. He also knew that as well as being obsessed with good manners and politeness, Derek kept himself to himself, never went out socially and appeared to have no mates. He seemed to live for his work, and was meticulously clean and tidy to ridiculous lengths. Some days Paul felt he’d done nothing but clear up. Derek also liked to work in silence, only breaking it to explain something about the job, or to deliver a lecture. Lectures included the youth of today, lack of respect, the lowlife scum who stole from decent folk, and noise pollution – the latter delivered after Paul had naïvely asked if they could have the radio on as they worked.
‘If clients wanted a radio blaring out all day they’d have one switched on, wouldn’t they? It would be intrusive for them to have to listen to our radio just because we want it on. An infringement of their personal space. Never forget we are tradesmen in these people’s homes, here simply to do the job they are paying us for, so don’t overstep the line into familiarity.’ Paul had been sorry he’d asked.
But his boss’s work ethos seemed to be successful, for he received so many requests for quotations that he could pick and choose the jobs he wanted. After visiting some premises he didn’t send an estimate, but an email apologizing that his work schedule was full, which seemed odd to Paul as some days they’d finished by lunchtime. Paul had no idea what the criteria were for accepting or declining a job. He’d asked Derek but he’d been vague and as an apprentice he couldn’t press him for an explanation. Paul was never allowed to go with Derek when he went to estimate. Derek said it would be an unnecessary inconvenience to the clients to have them both there, but added that if he took Paul on permanently he would train him in estimating. For various reasons Paul doubted that would happen.
At eleven o’clock they accepted the coffee Mrs Williams offered and drank it in the garage. Paul was also allowed to eat two of the biscuits she’d arranged on the plate; to eat them all would have appeared greedy, Derek said. It was then Paul’s job to return the tray with their empty mugs and the plate to the kitchen, remembering to knock on the door before he went in, even if it was open.
At one o’clock they had their lunch break sitting in the van to eat their packed lunches. Paul found it uncomfortable sitting so close to Derek who often had tuna and mayo in his sandwiches, made by his mother. He had the radio on low and always tuned to Classic FM. Paul ate his sandwiches quickly and then left the van to use his phone.
At half past five, the job was done. Derek checked the place was clean and tidy and that all their tools were packed in the van and then told Paul he could go. All that remained was for Derek to talk the clients through operating the system, and he never left until the clients felt confident using it.
‘I’m glad you’re pleased with the quality of the images,’ Derek said an hour later as he and Mr and Mrs Williams stood in front of their monitor in the hall. He’d shown them how to navigate the screen with the mouse, rewind to a specified date and time, download information, zoom in and out, and decide which images to display. They were now looking at their children in the living room watching television.
‘Stop picking your nose, Jack,’ his father called from the hall. They laughed as Jack looked up startled, wondering how he’d been caught.
‘I’ve changed the default password along the lines your husband suggested so you can remember it,’ Derek said, winding up. ‘It’s now rujuwi10.’
‘I won’t remember that!’ Julie exclaimed.
‘Yes, you will,’ Russ said. ‘It’s the first two letters of our names and 10.’
‘Of course.’ She laughed, tapping her forehead at having not realized.
‘Change it again if you want,’ Derek said. ‘But please tell me if you do. I’m maintaining your system – free for five years – so if there is a technical problem I’ll need to be able to log in to sort it out.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Russ said.
‘Now, I’ve loaded the website to both your phones; are you sure you don’t want me to do the same with your tablets and laptops?’
‘No, that’s fine, I’ll do it,’ Russ said. ‘Thanks for everything. I’ll certainly recommend you.’
‘Thank you. Please don’t hesitate to phone or email me if there is anything further I can help you with.’
‘We will,’ Russ said. They shook hands.
Derek turned to Mrs Williams. ‘Nice seeing you again. You’ll sleep easier in your bed now you’re all protected.’
‘We will indeed.’
Chapter Five (#ulink_9046f8f2-fcc2-5f1d-af1e-a2eac090f35d)
‘You’re late,’ Elsie Flint hissed the moment Derek walked in. ‘Your dinner’s ruined again. I had mine over an hour ago. It’s thoughtless. But why do I expect any different? Like father, like son.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Derek said, going to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. ‘But you know I can’t leave a client until the job is complete.’ He ran the hot water, squirted antibacterial soap onto his palms and washed them well.
Tutting, his mother took his plated dinner from the oven. She set it at the place she’d laid on the small Formica dining table covered by a faded tablecloth in the recess of the kitchen.
‘Thank you,’ he said, drying his hands.
She humphed and returned to the living room, sitting in her usual chair in front of the television to watch the soap he’d interrupted.
She was a bitter woman, Derek acknowledged, and watched soaps most of the day to alleviate the boredom of her own life. And who could blame her? Her life was meaningless, shallow and without purpose but there was nothing he could do about it.
He crossed to the table, and drawing out a chair sat down. He picked up his knife and fork, wiped it on his napkin and looked at the congealed ready meal on his plate.
‘I’ve told you not to bother cooking my meal,’ he called through to her with a stab of irritation. ‘I never know what time I’ll be back.’
‘And I’ve told you it’s a waste of electricity to cook our meals separately,’ she returned, and upped the volume on the television to stop further discussion.
In the past he’d suggested buying a microwave but she’d refused on the grounds they were unsafe, and, anyway, she’d never learn to use one.
‘I could teach you,’ he’d offered.
‘No, thank you,’ she’d said in a tone that left no room for negotiation. ‘We don’t need a microwave.’
He took a mouthful of the cottage pie and chewed slowly. Another stab of irritation. He resented having to eat her overcooked processed meals nearly as much as he resented being put in the position his father had left him in. When he’d abandoned them, Derek had become solely responsible for his mother. He’d been just eighteen and his own life had stopped. He doubted it would ever get going again while she was alive. He’d had to leave school to get a job to support them both, and had become his mother’s emotional crutch too – her lifeline. It was crushing and sucked the lifeblood out of him.
Then he felt guilty for thinking these things, and hated his father even more.
‘Sorry, lad,’ his father had said on the day he’d walked out, taking only one suitcase and never returning. ‘She’s not the woman I married. I’ve stood it for as long as I can but it’s a loveless, sexless marriage. You’re an adult now and can take care of yourself. I want something better while I have the chance. I don’t deserve this.’ But neither did he, Derek thought bitterly.
As the only man in her life, his mother took out her frustration on him so that over the years he’d grown to feel as his father must have done and could almost appreciate why he’d left. But Derek didn’t have the option of leaving. It was unthinkable. She’d never survive alone, which was not a consideration his father had had to contend with because, of course, Derek had been there.
Having eaten half of the glutinous tasteless heap on his plate, he stood, went to the pedal bin and scraped the rest in.
‘Wasteful,’ his mother called from the living room. ‘Throwing away good food when there are kiddies in the world starving. You should be ashamed of yourself.’
He didn’t respond – he rarely did – but crossed to the sink where he filled the bowl with hot water, added a squirt of washing-up liquid, and washed his plate and cutlery thoroughly. Drying his hands, he returned to the table and, in a well-practised routine, removed the salt and pepper pots and put them in their place in the cupboard, folded the tablecloth and placed that and the napkins in the drawer in the bureau.
He poured himself a glass of water, left the kitchen and began across the hall.
‘I’ll be upstairs if you need me,’ he called.
There was no reply; he hadn’t expected one. He probably wouldn’t see her again until the next day when she would be downstairs in her dressing gown making breakfast. They sometimes had dinner together, which was the nearest they came to interacting; otherwise he followed his routine and she hers.
As he neared the top of the stairs, his spirits lifted at the prospect of what lay ahead. It was his ‘calling’, his vocation, and what kept him going and made his life worth living. It created a feeling of being valued, of being in charge, and gave his life some purpose. Without it he’d be nothing, a nobody like his mother, but in this he knew he excelled.
Opening the door to his bedroom, he flicked on the light switch then closed the door behind him, sliding the bolt into place. The cheap outdated furniture, threadbare carpet, single bed (his since childhood), and faded curtains were of no significance now. His surroundings were inconsequential compared to the work he did – keeping people safe.
He crossed to the one piece of new furniture in the room, the pine workstation that stretched almost the length of one wall. Reaching under the desk, he threw the switch and then sat in his office chair and waited for the monitors to power up.
The expectation of what lay ahead was uplifting, nearly orgasmic in its intensity. Nothing else gave him a buzz quite like this. His desk and the monitors resembled a control centre. Houston calling. This was his domain. Here he had a god-like status: all-seeing and powerful. Omniscient, and looking down on the minions that were the human race.
Four screens; he might buy more, although he was already working flat out. There just weren’t enough hours in the day. Each monitor was responsible for twelve sites, forty-eight sites in all. He would be stretching himself to take on more and he didn’t want to let anyone down. He changed the sites from time to time. Updated the selection as and when necessary. If he got bored with one or if the client no longer required his service, then he replaced their site with another. He was never short of choice. There were always people in need of monitoring, guidance and assistance. It was just that they didn’t know it.
The screen savers appeared simultaneously on all four monitors and Derek entered the password, then clicked on the icon to launch the software for the live images coming from his clients’ cameras. His senses tingled with delight as forty-eight thumbnail images presented themselves and the screens were alive with little people scurrying around like ants.
He peered more closely, scanning each briefly, deciding who to visit first. This was often based on where he’d left off the night before when he’d had to force himself away from the dramas unfolding before him and switch off and go to bed. How his mother with her addiction to television soaps would have loved his work; if only she knew, he thought. Real people living out real lives; not actors working from scripts. So much better to have the real thing.
He was sure she would have appreciated it and it might have bridged their divide and brought them closer – united in a common pleasure. But she was far too much the gossip to be trusted with something so precious. A slip of the tongue over the garden fence or when she was on the phone to her sister. It was a pity she couldn’t be trusted, for this was probably the one thing that might have made her proud of him. Might, but then again he wasn’t sure.
With his hand resting lightly on the mouse, Derek concentrated on screen one and zoomed in to The Mermaid, his first port of call tonight.
Betty, the proprietress of the ‘massage parlour’, was the only one of his clients who knew he was watching and she appreciated it. He always tried to spend time with her and her girls in the evening. He’d done a deal with her to install their CCTV after one of her girls had been badly assaulted by a client who hadn’t understood that ‘no’ meant no. Betty had wanted cameras in all the bedrooms to keep the girls safe, but his competitors had shied away from the work, saying it was probably illegal. He hadn’t had the same reserve – far from it. It was what he did, although Betty didn’t know that. So they’d done a deal. He’d installed the surveillance system at cost price on the understanding he could watch the girls with their clients whenever he wanted. Sensing she had found a kindred spirit, she’d suggested another deal and now gave Derek 30 per cent of the earnings she made from her website, where she charged clients to view the girls performing. He’d been surprised to learn how many clients were willing to pay to just watch. It made him feel less of a freak.
He felt he enjoyed a good relationship with Betty and considered her a friend. Often she’d give him a little wave or say hello to the camera if it was at a time when he was likely to be watching and she wasn’t entertaining. She’d offered him the chance to experience their service first-hand, but he’d declined. He’d seen how the girls gossiped in their spare time, sometimes laughing about their clients. He’d only had sex with a woman once and that had been disaster. Doubtless it wouldn’t be any different the next time.
This evening as he looked at the images coming from The Mermaid he could see that Betty was busy showing a new girl around. Three of the rooms were in use and he clicked on Sandra’s bedroom, his favourite girl, and enlarged the image to full screen.
She was entertaining a regular client, a guy from the city who was in banking. Derek felt he knew him, he’d been there so often, and he certainly knew his little ways. He always treated Susan well – with respect – and was very generous in tipping. In a different life he could have been like him, Derek thought, had his father not left them.
He watched, his breath and heartbeat quickening as his excitement grew, mirroring that of the client’s. Unzipping his trousers, he lowered the front of his pants and then took a tissue from the box and held it ready. Masturbating, he followed the rhythm of Susan and her client, never taking his gaze from the screen until the last moment when his eyes snapped shut in ecstasy and his body contracted into orgasm. A small cry escaped his lips and he relaxed. He needed that – the release. Much better alone than with someone. It was so much safer; they didn’t laugh.
After wiping himself dry, he threw the tissue into the wastepaper basket, then tucked himself in and zipped up his trousers. Now to business. He looked at the other sites on screen one. Methodical in surveillance as he prided himself on being in all other aspects of his life, Derek had arranged his clients in alphabetical order, using the first letter of their surname or that of the establishment if it was a business. So A to F were on screen one, G to M on screen two and so on. Bart’s Corner Shop was on screen one. There’d been no sign of the hooded thugs who had twice robbed and terrorized the shop owner and his wife at knifepoint. Satisfied all was well, Derek checked the other sites on screen one before moving to the next monitor.
His most recent clients, the Williams, were on screen four, and he clicked on their thumbnail image, which brought up the views from all their cameras. Everything appeared to be working and he clicked on the exterior cameras first, enlarging them one at a time to fill the screen. He was pleased with the clarity. Although it was pitch-black outside, the infrared was working well, as he knew it would be, so he could see almost as much as in daylight.
Satisfied that all was well outside their home, Derek now clicked on the image coming from the camera in their living room. It was a comfortable and homely room, welcoming and relaxing. He’d thought so while he’d been there earlier. He assumed the children, Jack and Phoebe, were in bed as there was no sign of them in the living room; just Russ and Julie sitting side by side on their sofa, enjoying a glass of wine on a Friday evening. A cosy scene and one he envied; the snatch of normal family life with the children in bed and the parents spending quality time together. A proper family, not like his.
He clicked on the speaker symbol to engage the microphone in the camera – a little additional touch his clients didn’t know they had. Russ and Julie – he felt he knew them well enough now to use their first names – were discussing next year’s holiday. They were thinking of taking the children to Disney World in Florida. Very nice, lucky kids. Derek smiled to himself. They were a lovely family and he was pleased he could help them. Reassured all was well in the Williams’ home, he clicked the mouse to return their image to a thumbnail, took a sip of water, and then moved the cursor to U. Now to the real business of the night – which might not be so warm and cosy.
Chapter Six (#ulink_454563fc-1b45-55d6-8840-023b845a027e)
Derek watched as Kevin Brown took his place in the gloomy doorway of U-Beat nightclub. At six foot two inches tall, he was broad chested, with muscles gorged from steroids and weight training. His face was that of a fighter, his nose flattened and misshapen and his skin pockmarked with scars old and new. At twenty-three he was an arrogant bastard who considered himself in peak condition and hoped to enter the world of professional boxing. Before those dreams were realized, to get by he took work where it was offered. Jobs that required a big, bad-looking guy. He was under no illusion about his appearance, and even bragged about it, but it was an asset in the ring and in his other work. If you needed the frighteners putting on someone to warn them off or repay a debt, then it was no good sending along some little prissy. He was the man for the job. And it was surprising just how many who owed money and claimed they had nothing suddenly found a wad of cash when he turned up on their doorstep, even before he’d become ‘persuasive’.
Tonight, as with most Friday and Saturday nights, Kevin was working as a bouncer for U-Beat nightclub. There was just him on duty at present but another bouncer would join him at ten o’clock, half an hour before the club opened. They kept the queue in order, sent away those who were already pissed, high, or out to make trouble, then once the club doors opened, allowed the clubbers in one at a time, frisking them as they entered: a quick pat-down, and a search of the girls’ handbags, checking for drugs, drinks and weapons. There were already a dozen or so early birds in the queue who wanted to make sure they got in. U-Beat was the only nightclub in Coleshaw town, and there wasn’t much else going on so it was popular.
‘Hi Kev,’ two girls called. Heavily made up and ready for a night out, they tottered over to him on too-high heels.
‘Hello, ladies,’ he said, straightening. ‘How are you?’ They were regulars.
Derek shifted in his chair. He had a good idea what was coming next.
‘We’re good, aren’t we?’ Chelsea giggled, nudging her friend.
‘Yea,’ Tracey said. ‘We’re good.’
‘How’s the kids?’
‘Brats but we love ’em,’ Chelsea replied for them both.
‘You clubbing tonight then,’ Kevin asked, ‘or just here to chat me up?’
‘That depends, don’t it?’ Chelsea replied, and they both giggled.
‘On what?’ he asked, feigning ignorance.
‘On whether you let us in, Kev,’ Tracey said.
Kevin leant slightly forward, peered out from the doorway at the short queue lining up against the wall to his right. ‘If you join the queue now you’ll get in no problem,’ he said, suppressing a smile.
They giggled again. ‘You know we haven’t any money, Kev, to pay to get in,’ Chelsea said.
‘You haven’t spent all your benefit money already?’ he exclaimed in mock surprise. It was a similar conversation every Friday evening. They were both teenage single mums and didn’t have twenty pounds each to get in. Once inside it was easy to get guys to buy them drinks.
‘Kev, stop teasing us,’ Tracey said. ‘You’ll let us in, won’t you?’
‘I’m thinking,’ he said, obviously enjoying the banter.
‘What you thinking, Kev?’ Both girls grinned seductively.
‘About what you can do to persuade me,’ Kevin said, looking over their heads.
‘I can’t,’ Chelsea said, ‘I’ve got me monthly, but Trace can.’
‘Is that right?’ he said, bringing his gaze back to Tracey.
‘Yea. But you let us both in. Special offer. One for two.’ They laughed and his eyes creased into a smile.
He glanced up at the CCTV camera trained on the entrance, at present with him framed in its doorway. There was another camera just inside the door.
‘You know where,’ he said to Tracey. ‘But don’t make a song and dance about it or you’ll get me fired.’
Tracey took the hint and quickly slipped out of view of the camera and disappeared down the alley that ran alongside the club. Chelsea went to take their place in the queue as Kevin stepped out of the doorway. ‘I’m going for a slash, mate,’ he told the guy waiting with his girl at the head of the queue. ‘I’ll be back shortly. Keep an eye on things and I’ll let you in for nothing.’
‘OK, mate.’
Undoing the button on his black three-quarter-length coat as he went, Kevin turned the corner into the alleyway and out of sight of the camera. He could just make out Tracey waiting for him in their usual place. She and Chelsea were interchangeable and took it in turns to give him his Friday night treat, his bonus to make up for low wages and their ticket into the club. Although they were out of sight of the cameras, he was supposed to be on duty so they needed to be quick. But part of the excitement for him was in the immediacy. The fuck without foreplay.
Flattening her against the wall, he quickly undid his trousers, yanked up her short skirt and pulled aside her thong. She groaned as he thrust into her, from pain or pleasure he didn’t know – or care. Hard thrusts, deep inside; he kicked her legs further apart so he could penetrate her fully, animal-like in his taking of her. It could have been anyone he was fucking. But that was probably true for her too as long as it got her into the club. Thrusting faster now, he would come quickly, with no need to hang on in there and wait to satisfy her. She was his for the taking.
Then a sudden movement from behind. Kevin’s eyes shot open and Tracey screamed. A flash of silver, the glint of metal. A faceless head with only slits in the balaclava for eyes, the pupils dilated and the whites glowing menacingly in the dark. It was all over in an instant; no time to avoid the knife.
Kevin’s face registered shock and surprise before pain. Tracey screamed over and over again as the attacker vanished as quickly as he’d appeared, disappearing out of the alley and into the night.
Blood pumped from the wound in Kevin’s neck and spurted down Tracey’s front. He staggered back, groaning and clutching his neck. Shaking violently, with her legs barely able to support her, Tracey ran out of the alley and to the front of the club.
‘He’s been stabbed! Kev’s been stabbed!’ she shouted hysterically.
He staggered out behind her, both hands clamped to his neck impotently trying to stem the flow of blood, before collapsing onto the pavement in full view of those waiting in the queue, and the camera.
Derek gasped and stared in horror.
The queue quickly dispersed like ants; some fearing that they might be next ran away while others went to Kevin. Chelsea ran to her friend and screamed at the sight of all the blood. Some people were just staring at Kevin on the ground, not knowing what to do. One guy was phoning for an ambulance, another two were actually taking photographs on their phones. Finally, a girl who said she was a trainee nurse knelt beside Kevin and put pressure on the wound to stem the blood while they waited for the ambulance.
‘Jesus,’ Derek said, unable to take his eyes from the screen. ‘He needed to be taught a lesson, but not like that.’
There was then what seemed like an interminable wait before the ambulance and police arrived, but was only seven minutes according to the clock on Derek’s computer. The paramedics went to Kevin, one opening a medical bag while the other thanked the trainee nurse and took over the compression on the wound. As they worked to save Kevin’s life, the police moved the onlookers away from him, and then began asking them what they’d seen and heard of the incident. They all said similar: that they hadn’t seen it happen but the guy was a bouncer at the club and had been stabbed in the alleyway over there.
‘He went to have a piss,’ the guy who’d been at the head of the queue said. Then Tracey, her clothes stained with Kevin’s blood, came forward and told them what had really happened. When the young officer had finished taking their statements, Chelsea asked if the club would still open and if they could get in for nothing.
‘Jesus, have you no humility?’ Derek exclaimed aloud, appalled.
He watched carefully as the police cordoned off the alleyway, now a crime scene, and the paramedics continued to work on Kevin. Then, with an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, a drip attached to his arm, and a large dressing covering his neck wound, Kevin was lifted onto a stretcher and into the ambulance, apparently unconscious.
Derek watched the ambulance leave, its blue light bouncing off the buildings and then disappearing out of view. Another police car arrived and a plain-clothed man and a woman got out of the rear. Forensics, he guessed. They exchanged a few words with the officers and then donned their white protective paper Tyvek suits. A spotlight was set up so they could see and they disappeared down the alley while other police officers went inside to speak to the owner. But Derek had seen enough. Powering down the monitors, he feared the worst.
Chapter Seven (#ulink_b0b0a9a4-7b24-5d5a-b322-2292870742e1)
‘A bit of a naughty boy then, by all accounts,’ DC Beth Mayes said, reporting to her senior. ‘Literally caught with his trousers down.’
DCI Aileen Peters smiled. ‘And no one saw anything, even though it was a Friday night?’
‘No. Nothing, ma’am. Once Kevin and Tracey were in the alleyway they were out of sight of the queue. And there’s no camera covering the side alley – just one at the front of the nightclub.’
She nodded and glanced at the report in front of her. ‘So we’re working on the assumption that the attacker was already there.’
‘Yes, ma’am. It looks that way. It’s a long dark alley, most of which isn’t visible from the street. There are plenty of places to hide – behind bins and outbuildings. You wouldn’t see someone hiding, especially with what Kevin and Tracey had on their minds. All she’s been able to tell us is that the attacker was dressed in black and had a balaclava hood covering his head and face. The CCTV footage from the camera at the front of the club shows a hooded figure going into the alley approximately half an hour before the attack. The same figure can be seen running out after the attack.’
‘He left the area on foot?’
‘Yes, as far as can be seen on the camera, which is about twenty feet.’
‘And no one in the queue saw him fleeing?’
‘No. He’d gone before the commotion began and anyone realized something was wrong. The first anyone saw or heard was when Tracey came out of the alley covered in blood and screaming that Kevin had been stabbed. He staggered out after her. That’s when their attention was drawn to the alleyway, but the attacker had fled by then.’
‘And Kevin didn’t see his attacker at all because he came at him from behind?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘It was definitely a he?’
‘From his build, yes.’
‘And we’ve ruled out Tracey or her friend, Chelsea, setting up Kevin? He’d had sex with Chelsea the week before and she wasn’t jealous and bent on revenge?’
‘According to both girls they were happy with the arrangement. They took it in turns to have sex with him and he let them both into the club for free.’
‘It must be a good club,’ Aileen Peters remarked dryly. ‘And the girls don’t see him at any other time? He’s not dating one of them?’
‘No, ma’am.’
‘Are there any other girlfriends on the scene who might not like the arrangement he had with Chelsea and Tracey?’
‘Not according to Kevin,’ Beth answered. ‘We saw him again yesterday in hospital.’
‘Did the management know about his arrangement with the girls?’
‘No. And they’re not happy that they’ve been drawn into this. It’s bad for the club’s reputation, especially when their licence is coming up for renewal.’
‘Tough. So Kevin can’t think of anyone who might have had a grudge against him? Maybe someone he collected money from or an opponent from one of his boxing matches? Someone he’d badly beaten?’
‘He says he doesn’t keep a record of his debt-collecting duties. It’s cash in hand. We’re checking out some of the fights he won, but so far nothing. Some of his opponents have form, but for pub brawls etc. None of them has a history of knife crime, GBH or anything premeditated like this. Although Kevin admits he knows some pretty dodgy characters.’
Aileen nodded. ‘So no motive and no suspect. At least he’s alive. If it was planned, which all the evidence so far is suggesting, then someone was watching him for quite a while to know his movements. That he could be relied upon to be in that alleyway at a particular time on a Friday.’
‘Yes, ma’am, it would appear so.’
‘Hmm.’ She glanced at the file and then up again. ‘Perhaps the press release will bring in some leads, but I’m not hopeful. We’ll give it our best shot, then put it to bed unless new evidence turns up.’
‘Yes, ma’am. Thank you. Just one more thing.’
‘Yes?’
‘It may be nothing, but there appear to have been some other cases in the area that could be said to be similar. Where it seems that someone has been deliberately targeted and the assailant knew where they’d be at a particular time and day. All motiveless.’
‘Really? I wasn’t aware of this.’
‘No one was, ma’am. It’s something I’ve just turned up.’
‘When you say a few, how many are we talking about?’
‘I’ve uncovered five possibles that have happened in the last twelve months. There could be more further back. None of them involved a knife but they appear to be motiveless premeditated crimes against individuals. I know it’s a long shot.’
‘Go on. I’m interested.’ Beth wouldn’t be the first DC to find a lead missed by more senior detectives.
‘Ron McKenzie’s house was broken into last month.’
‘Yes, I’m aware of that.’
‘He only went out in the evening once a month to attend a Masonic meeting. While he was gone, his house was completely trashed. They didn’t take anything but made a real mess, paint everywhere. On one of his bedroom walls they’d sprayed the words: payback time. He said he had no idea who was behind it and couldn’t think of anyone who would bear him a grudge. There were no leads and no one has been questioned.’
‘You said “they”?’
‘Forensics said it was possible there were two perpetrators, although they couldn’t be certain.’
‘It could simply have been an opportunist thief who knew McKenzie’s movements, but that doesn’t really tally with the words sprayed on the wall and that nothing was taken. Was he having an affair? Is there a jealous husband or jilted lover in the background?’
‘Not as far as we know.’
‘OK. What else do you have?’
‘Tom Murray, a barrister, and a more serious crime. He was knocked down by a motorcyclist four months ago. The bike mounted the pavement and then sped off. There are no cameras in the area but he was adamant that whoever it was had deliberately driven straight at him. A woman who’d just come into the street and saw the attack agreed. She said the rider accelerated towards the victim. Both of them said the rider was all in black, with a black helmet and a tinted visor so neither of them saw his face.’
‘I seem to remember we looked into some of the cases he’d worked on to see if anyone could have a grudge big enough to try to kill him. But there was nothing,’ Aileen said.
‘That’s correct. The file’s still open.’
‘Maybe worth taking another look.’
‘Yes, ma’am. Then there was the abduction of Mary Grey, thirty-six, a single woman living alone,’ DC Beth Mayes continued, her voice rising with enthusiasm. ‘Whoever took her knew exactly where she’d be at a given time on a given day and that she’d be alone. He also knew her name. She had no idea who he was and didn’t recognize his voice. He grabbed her from behind, bundled her into a van and put a blindfold on her. He drove her around for about ten minutes and then stopped the van. Before he threw her out he told her to be more careful in future. She says she doesn’t know what he was referring to. There are no suspects and we checked all the vans we knew to be in the area at that time.’
‘Is there anything or anyone linking these victims?’
‘Not from what we know.’
‘Have a look again – acquaintances, place of work, where they socialize.’ Her desk phone rang and she picked it up, listened to what the caller said, and then replied, ‘I’ll be there.’ Replacing the receiver, she stood. ‘I’ve got to go. Look back over two years to see if you can find any connection between them. It’s possible there’s a nutcase out there seeking revenge for some perceived injustice, but I’m more likely to think these are random acts of mindless violence. Worth having another look all the same.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
Chapter Eight (#ulink_64061a45-f01e-5174-9abe-293befe7beb3)
‘You OK, Gov? Paul asked, barely able to hide his smirk.
‘Yes, of course,’ Derek snapped, coming down from the ladder. ‘It’s only a small snag. Fetch me the first-aid kit from the van, will you?’
‘Not a lot of point in putting it back, was there? Cutting yourself twice in one morning and you always being so safety conscious.’
Derek let the comment go, as he was increasingly having to do with Paul. He knew he wasn’t himself today; he had bigger, more worrying issues on his mind than Paul’s bad attitude. The incident at U-Beat nightclub kept replaying through his head just as he’d seen it but he needed to try to concentrate before he had any more accidents or let something slip.
Cupping his finger in the palm of his hand to stop the blood dripping onto the floor, he crossed to the small sink in the corner of the room and held it under the cold tap. The room was at the rear of the newsagents and used for storing stock. Cardboard boxes and crates containing bags of sweets, packets of cigarettes, crisps, fizzy drinks and so on were stacked all around him.
He was trying to fit a camera in this room to complement the one in the shop, and then put their system online. Originally Mr and Mrs Osman, the owners of the newsagent, had just wanted one camera in the shop to stop thieving from the displays and for their own protection, but on Sunday evening while the shop had been closed it had been broken into from the rear and stock stolen. They’d phoned him on Monday morning, desperate, and asked if he could fit the extra camera and put the system online. It was a relatively small job but the work wasn’t progressing as quickly as it should. He was struggling to concentrate, there was only limited space to move around, and Mr and Mrs Osman kept interrupting him – coming in for stock or to ask him questions when all he needed was to be left in peace to finish the job.
Paul eventually returned, carrying the first-aid box, with his phone still in his hand; taking advantage of him, Derek thought.
‘I’ll be nurse then,’ Paul said.
Derek turned off the cold water tap as Paul set the first-aid box on the work surface beside the sink and took out a plaster. Away from the cold water the cut immediately opened and started bleeding again. ‘It’s deeper than I thought,’ Derek said, holding it over the sink.
‘Is there a bigger plaster in here?’ Paul asked, rummaging in the first-aid box.
‘Should be.’
He found a larger plaster and a sterile pad. ‘Give us your finger then, and we’ll use this to stop the bleeding.’
Derek held out his hand and Paul steadied it as he pressed the sterile pad on the wound. Gentler than he would have imagined, Derek felt the cool tips of Paul’s fingers, the touch of his clammy palm, and the warmth of his body nearby. He was standing close, far too close. Soothed and excited, Derek breathed in the bittersweet seductive mustiness of the teenage boy, a heady mixture of testosterone, perspiration and deodorant. How long since he’d been this close to a young man? He knew exactly, and knew he mustn’t go there again.
He took a step back. Paul removed the sterile pad from the wound and then expertly peeled the plaster from its packet and pressed it gently into place.
‘Very professional,’ Derek said, his voice unsteady.
‘Should be; Mum’s a nurse. We’re all up to speed on first aid.’
‘Are you?’ Derek asked, feigning ignorance of Paul’s home life. ‘That’s good. Well done. You said “we”?’
‘Yes, Mum, Dad, my brother, sister and me,’ Paul clarified, closing the first-aid box. ‘Although they’re my parents’ favourites. I’m the runt of the litter.’ He threw the discarded packets and soiled dressing into the bin and then looked at Derek, waiting for his instructions. ‘What next?’
‘Oh, yes. Perhaps you could finish connecting that camera for me? You know what to do.’ His usual instructive manner had gone. The intimacy of a minute ago lingered and Derek was reluctant to let it go. He could identify with not fitting in. Although he didn’t have any siblings he was sure if he had he would have been his mother’s least favourite: the runt.
‘So you’re happy with the way your apprenticeship is going?’ he asked awkwardly as Paul climbed the ladder.
‘Yes. Why?’ He glanced down at him.
‘Well, I haven’t asked you before and it’s important you’re happy. The apprenticeship scheme will ask you for feedback.’
He shrugged. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’
‘So no complaints?’
‘Apart from the abysmal pay, you mean?’
‘You’re on apprenticeship rates.’ He waited until Paul had finished clipping the wire he was working on. ‘And your home life? No worries there?’
‘None that you need to be concerned about,’ Paul returned.
‘And all’s going well with your girlfriend?’ Derek persisted. He knew Paul had a steady girlfriend because he disappeared most lunchtimes saying he was going to phone her.
‘I guess. Although last Saturday was a bit of a bummer after the stabbing at the club the Friday before.’
‘You go to U-Beat nightclub?’ Derek asked, taken aback.
‘Sometimes. The police were inside asking about the stabbing. It seems there might be a connection with some other crimes.’
‘They said that?’ He struggled to hide his shock. Thank goodness Paul was up the ladder and concentrating on wiring the camera.
‘Yes. They were trying to find out more about Kev, the bouncer who was stabbed. We didn’t know him.’
‘And the person who did it? Do they have any leads?’
‘Don’t think so. It seems he might have got away on a motorbike. Hey, you’ve got a bike, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, but I only take it out on Sundays,’ Derek said, a little too quickly.
Paul glanced at him, tightened the last screw, then came down the ladder and waited. ‘What next?’
Derek shook his head. ‘Nothing. Clear up and go home.’
‘You sure? It’s only one-thirty.’
‘Yes. I’ll be here a while talking Mr and Mrs Osman through accessing their system online; they don’t appear very computer savvy. Then I’m going home to catch up on some paperwork. I’ll see you at eight-thirty sharp in the morning.’
‘OK. Thanks.’ Paul quickly swept up the last of their mess and left.
Because Mr and Mrs Osman couldn’t leave the shop unattended, they came through to the stockroom separately to learn how to access their CCTV online, so it was three o’clock before Derek arrived home. His mother was exactly where he expected to find her – in the living room, watching television. She wasn’t surprised to hear him come in early, for his wasn’t a nine-to-five job.
‘I’ve put your clean laundry on your bed,’ she called. ‘Your room could do with a clean, but that’s your job.’
‘I know, I will,’ he said, bristling. She treated him like a little boy.
In the kitchen Derek put his lunchbox in the sink for washing later, poured himself a glass of water and went upstairs to his room where he would stay until she called him for dinner. It niggled him that she went into his room at all. At his age – forty-one – it should have been his domain, and she could have left his laundry in the airing cupboard, but he didn’t complain. He always turned the monitors off when he was out and even if she switched them on, which he doubted she would, she wouldn’t get any further than the screen savers, as the system was heavily password protected. It was the fact she had entered his territory at all that he bitterly resented, but he felt powerless to say anything.
With his bedroom door bolted, Derek sat in his office chair at his workstation, took a sip of water and powered up the monitors. As soon as they sprang into life he began searching local newspapers for updates on the stabbing at U-Beat nightclub. What Paul had said was worrying him.
The police were appealing for witnesses, the articles said, and anyone with any information should contact the number shown below. They were especially interested in talking to a motorbike rider seen leaving the area shortly after the incident, but there were no more details.
Derek opened the folder where he’d downloaded the footage from the CCTV camera at the front of the nightclub. When he’d watched in real time – as the attack had happened – he’d been concentrating on the actual action; now he scanned it for anything he might have missed. On the very edge of the screen he spotted a figure in black running from the alleyway just after the attack, but there was no motorbike in view.
He rewound to an hour before the incident and trawled through the footage, again concentrating on what was going on at the edges of the camera. His patience was eventually rewarded and he now saw what the police had presumably seen – what looked like the same figure entering the alley thirty minutes before the attack, but not detailed enough to make an identification, and no sign of a motorbike. He watched the footage for a few minutes more, then satisfied he had the same information as the police, closed the file.
Moving his chair to the centre of the workstation, Derek made a brief scan of all the live streams on all four screens, making sure nothing untoward was going on that might require his attention in the families he monitored. He zoomed in on a couple of images, then stopped at the Williams’ house, zoomed in and engaged the microphone on the camera in their living room. Mrs Williams was on the telephone, talking to her babysitter whom he recalled was their goddaughter. She was asking if she was free to babysit that evening for a few hours, and apparently she was.
‘That’s great. Thanks, Sophie, sorry it’s short notice,’ Mrs Williams said. ‘We won’t be late. Yes, come here for seven o’clock and Russ will take you home after.’ Derek had missed why she and Mr Williams were going out at short notice but he now knew their goddaughter was called Sophie. He liked to know all their names; it made him feel part of the family life he so yearned for.
His mother called from downstairs to say that dinner was ready and he clicked the mouse to put the system into sleep mode before going down. At least this meal would be freshly cooked and not dried or congealed from being kept warm in the oven for hours. She was already sitting at the table in the kitchen, waiting for him before beginning. The table as usual was covered with the faded flowered tablecloth and laid with the correct cutlery and the condiments set in the centre. They ate like this, even though there was just the two of them and even though he was sure she’d have been happier with her meal on a tray in front of the television. It was sad seeing her sitting there waiting for him, touchingly pathetic.
‘They’re putting CCTV in the flats where my sister lives,’ she said, picking up her knife and fork as he took his seat.
‘Oh yes?’
‘She was surprised we didn’t have it here. Why don’t we, Derek?’
‘Mum, when I asked you, you said you didn’t want it. That it would make you feel self-conscious.’
‘Yes, it would.’
He looked at her, not sure what to say for the best. ‘Don’t worry. This place won’t be burgled. You’re in most of the time and there’s little of value here for them to take.’
‘Whose fault is that?’ she snapped.
Derek didn’t reply. He knew the answer only too well. After his father had walked out, his mother had discovered he’d been borrowing heavily against the house and there was nothing left. It had taken Derek years to repay the debts, and the mortgage was still sixty per cent of the value of the house. He resented it too but he wished she wouldn’t keep harping on about it. It just made her more bitter.
‘Nice bit of braising steak,’ he said.
They ate the rest of the meal in silence, then she returned to her chair in the living room while he washed up. It was part of their routine, their almost-harmony. Thank goodness he had his work.
He poured himself a glass of water and went upstairs as the theme tune of the first soap of the evening began in the living room. Dinner was timed around the soaps. She occasionally watched the news but not often. She said there was too much suffering in the world. She preferred the fictional world of the soaps.
What was it the poet TS Eliot said? Derek thought as he entered his room: ‘Human kind cannot bear very much reality.’ How true. He had liked poetry at school and would have liked to have studied it in higher education, but going to university had vanished along with his father and the debts he’d left behind.
Rolling his chair to the centre of the workstation, he brought the monitors out of sleep mode and the screens filled with the thumbnail images of the live streams. It was just starting to get dark outside and Derek liked this time of evening most of all. As the natural light faded and the infrared sensors took over, the pictures were tingled with a light pink hue, creating the impression of a magical fairy-tale land. Day and night images were harsh and uncompromising compared to this. He sat back in his chair and savoured the scenes for a moment. Then it was time to get to work.
Leaning forward with his arms resting lightly on the desk, Derek began scanning the thumbnail images and was immediately alerted to the living room of the Williams’ home again.
‘Sophie!’ he said aloud, shocked. She was lying on the sofa with her legs and arms wrapped around a lad Derek hadn’t seen before and assumed to be her boyfriend. ‘I bet Mr and Mrs Williams don’t know he’s there.’
He zoomed in so their image filled the screen and clicked on the speaker icon to engage the microphone on the camera. Grunts and groans, heavy breathing, sighs of pleasure accompanied the writhing bodies, as they kissed and groped each other. Disgusting, Derek thought. How old was she? He didn’t know but would guess fourteen, and the lad looked a couple of years older. They paused for a moment to drain the last of their drinks, ice cubes melting in the bottom of the cut-glass crystal tumblers.
‘Another G and T darling?’ the lad said in a voice that presumably was supposed to be an imitation of Russ’s.
Sophie giggled. ‘Oh, darling, I daren’t take any more of their gin; they’re sure to know it’s been watered down.’ She giggled some more.
Infuriated, Derek watched as they set their empty glasses on the floor and continued groping each other. The lad ran his hand under Sophie’s top and began fondling her breasts. She closed her eyes and moaned with delight. A few moments later the sound was interrupted by a child calling from upstairs.
‘Ignore it,’ Sophie sighed from underneath him.
You little cow, Derek thought. Mr and Mrs Williams trusted you to babysit and you’ve betrayed their trust, big time. But of course it was for reasons just like this that people fitted cameras inside their homes: stealing, underage drinking, and neglecting or maltreating the children or the elderly they were supposed to be in charge of.
As the couple’s passion grew, so did Derek’s anger and indignation. He loathed it when decent people were taken advantage of. It upset him and made him angry which was why he’d set up his online surveillance in the first place. Deceit and betrayal were near the top of his list of sins and part of his mission was to help those he found being taken advantage of. He hadn’t been able to help his mother all those years ago when his father had been deceiving her, so he was making up for it now. It empowered and emboldened him and made him feel more of a man.
The groping resumed and the lad pulled up Sophie’s top and lacy bra, exposing her pert tits. He started sucking her nipples. Ignoring his own arousal, Derek concentrated on the screen. The child had stopped calling out now, presumably having given up or gone back to sleep.
‘Let’s use their bed, it’s more comfortable,’ Sophie murmured.
The lad raised his head with a stupid grin on his face and climbing off Sophie pulled her to her feet. Giggling conspiratorially, they ran out of the living room and disappeared from the camera’s view, presumably upstairs. Time to act.
Derek minimized the image of the now-empty living room and launched the system’s email account. He couldn’t rely on Mr and Mrs Williams viewing their CCTV recording of the time they’d been out and discovering the betrayal for themselves. Busy people rarely viewed their CCTV footage unless they had reason to – and Derek was about to give them a very good reason.
The third standard email on his list of templates was entitled camera warning. Derek clicked on it, inserted the email addresses of both Mr and Mrs Williams and pressed send. He prided himself on monitoring his systems personally. He liked to be in control. With the satisfaction that comes from knowing justice is likely to be swift and sweet, he sat back and waited.
Chapter Nine (#ulink_83105d35-04d8-52a8-be91-9f69e5e27f76)
In the restaurant the waiter had just asked if they’d like to see the dessert menu.
‘I couldn’t possibly,’ Julie Williams said with a small sigh of satisfaction from having eaten a delicious meal.
‘I will,’ Russ said.
Julie raised her eyebrows. Russ was supposed to be trying to lose a few pounds that had built up around his middle from too many business lunches.
‘There’s no harm in looking,’ he said with a smile. The waiter went to fetch the menu.
‘Have whatever you fancy,’ Julie said. ‘We don’t do this often. It was a lovely suggestion, coming here. Thank you. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed it.’
‘Good, I’m pleased.’ He reached across the table and took her hand. ‘I know I don’t say it often, but you do know I love you, don’t you?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she said, returning his smile, ‘although it’s nice to hear it. I love you too.’
The waiter returned with the large leather-bound menu and set it in front of Russ, open at the dessert page.
‘I’ll give you a minute to decide,’ he said, leaving them to study it.
Russ began reading out the list of delicious desserts: ‘Chocolate fudge cake, banoffee pie, raspberry trifle, apple pie, cheesecake. Hmm.’ Julie smiled. ‘And all served with whipped cream. Are you sure I can’t tempt you?’
‘No, I couldn’t possibly. You have one though.’
Russ felt his phone in the top pocket of his shirt vibrate with an incoming text message, and took it out without taking his eyes from the menu. Then Julie’s phone in her handbag beside her chair also bleeped. He glanced up and putting the menu on the table swiped the screen on his phone. Julie took her phone from her bag. They always checked messages straightaway when they were out in case it was their babysitter with a concern about the children.
‘It’s an email from Home Security,’ Russ said. ‘Subject, camera warning.’
‘So is mine,’ Julie said, immediately concerned.
He read out the message as Julie saw the same words on her phone: ‘This is an automated message to alert you to a possible breach of security in your surveillance system. Please log in and check your cameras now. If you have forgotten your password, click on the link below.’
‘Do you think there’s something wrong?’ she asked anxiously.
‘It could be a camera malfunctioning but we should check as the message says. You know our password?’
She nodded and with mounting concern logged in.
Silence as they both viewed the images coming from the cameras in their house, less defined on the small screens of their mobiles compared to the monitor on the wall at home.
‘Everything looks all right,’ Russ said enlarging the images one at a time as much as the screen size would allow.
‘But where’s Sophie?’ Julie said. ‘I can’t see her in the living room.’
‘Making a cup of tea?’ Russ offered. ‘Or in the bathroom, or checking on the children. Don’t worry. I’m sure everything is fine but we’ll phone her to make sure.’
‘I’ll phone her mobile,’ Julie said, bringing up her list of contacts. ‘The landline will wake Jack and Phoebe.’
She pressed for Sophie’s number as Russ continued viewing the images being sent live from their cameras.
‘Come on, Sophie, pick up. Where are you?’ Julie said agitatedly as her mobile rang and rang.
‘I’ve just spotted her phone on the table in the living room,’ Russ said. ‘It’s probably on silent. Try the landline.’
Julie cut the call to Sophie’s mobile and pressed their home number. It rang and rang. Panic kicked in. ‘Where the hell is she?’ Then finally it was answered with a quiet, ‘Hello?’
‘Sophie. It’s Julie. Is everything all right?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘We had a message from the security firm saying there might be something wrong.’
‘No, everything is fine here, honestly.’
‘You took a long time to answer the phone.’
‘I’ve been upstairs checking on the children.’
‘Oh, OK. Thanks,’ she said, relieved. ‘And no one has called at the house?’
‘No.’
Julie didn’t want to panic the girl by saying the email had mentioned a possible breach in security. She’d said everything was fine so it was very likely an insect had tripped the system as had happened in the past, but this time the CCTV had triggered an automated email. ‘We won’t be long. We’re just finishing off,’ Julie said.
‘OK. No worries. See you later.’
She said goodbye and returned her phone to her bag. ‘She says everything is all right and she was checking on Jack and Phoebe. I guess it was an error?’
‘Maybe,’ Russ said hesitantly, still studying his phone and the image from the camera in their living room. On the floor beside their sofa he’d noticed two empty whisky glasses. Suddenly Sophie and a young man appeared in the living room, dishevelled and tucking in their clothes. He turned the phone to show Julie the screen.
‘Who’s that?’ she cried, her hand shooting to her mouth.
‘Boyfriend, I guess. She didn’t tell you he was coming?’
‘No, of course not!’
Russ summoned the waiter for the bill as Julie threw on her jacket.
‘No dessert or coffee, Sir?’
‘No, thank you; just the bill.’
Russ settled it quickly and they left, with him trying to reassure Julie that the children were safe, but that it made sense to go home straightaway. She didn’t need telling twice.
Outside, the chill in the autumn air seemed even sharper now and Julie pulled her jacket closer. ‘You’re taking it very well, Russ, but I’m furious with her. I trusted her implicitly. Just wait till I see her!’
‘I’m sure Sophie wouldn’t have neglected the children,’ he said, unlocking the car. ‘She’s done what many teenagers do – acted irresponsibly.’ They got in. ‘And to be honest, Jules, if she’d asked us if she could have her boyfriend round we would probably have said yes.’
‘Would we?’ Julie snapped the buckle on her seatbelt into place. ‘You might have but I certainly wouldn’t. She’s fourteen, Russ. A minor. I dread to think what her parents will say. They’ll need to know.’
‘Let’s see what Sophie has to say first, shall we?’ He started the engine and pulled away. ‘Perhaps they’ve just been sitting there playing Scrabble.’
‘It didn’t look like Scrabble to me.’
In contrast to the atmosphere and conversation during their journey to the restaurant – which had been light and convivial with the promise of a romantic meal for two at their favourite restaurant – it was now loaded with anxiety and recrimination. The silence was only broken by Julie’s morbid conjectures: ‘I can’t see how she’s been looking after the children properly if she’s been cavorting with her boyfriend … Supposing one of the children woke and saw or heard them? I bet she tried to switch off the camera in the living room so we couldn’t see them. That would have triggered the email, wouldn’t it?’
‘Yes, good point,’ Russ agreed. ‘But try to calm down, Jules, there’s no real harm been done. She said the kids are fine and we don’t want a big fall out between our families.’
Julie stiffened. When it came to the children’s safety and wellbeing she couldn’t accept Russ’s platitudes. In other circumstances two teenagers canoodling on her sofa wouldn’t have caused her the same upset and indignation, but anything to do with the children was an entirely different matter. She’d have fought off a pack of hungry wolves to protect Jack and Phoebe, so strong was her in-built maternal instinct. And of course she also felt some responsibility for Sophie, who was only fourteen and her goddaughter.
Five minutes later they pulled onto their driveway and Russ cut the engine. Julie immediately threw open her car door. ‘Let me handle it,’ Russ said, touching her arm.
With her face set in reluctant compliance, she followed him to their front door and waited as he unlocked it, glancing up at the camera. If Sophie was looking at the monitor in the hall she’d be able to see them now. Russ opened the front door and she followed him in. The house was quiet as it should be. Sophie was in the living room sitting on the sofa with the television on low.
‘Hello,’ she said sweetly, standing as they entered. ‘Did you have a nice time?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Russ said, looking around the room. There was no sign of the glass tumblers. Presumably she’d washed and dried them and returned them to the cupboard. ‘Was everything all right here?’
‘Yes. Perfectly.’ She picked up her phone ready to leave, apparently eager to go. ‘Will you be giving me a lift home or shall I call a cab?’
‘I’ll take you,’ Russ said.
Julie couldn’t contain her anger any longer. ‘Who was that lad you had here while we were out?’ she demanded.
‘Pardon?’ Sophie said indignantly. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ But her cheeks were already flushing red.
‘Don’t play the innocent with me,’ Julie flared. ‘You had your boyfriend here.’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Well, who was he then?’
‘Who?’
Sensing that Sophie was about to dig herself further into a hole with more lies, Russ stepped in. ‘Sophie, you’re not in any trouble but—’
‘Yes, she is,’ Julie put in.
‘Why? What are you accusing me of?’ Sophie hissed.
Julie pointed to the camera in the far corner of the room. ‘We saw you with your boyfriend in here.’
Sophie looked at the camera and then at them. ‘You’ve been watching me through that?’ she said astounded. ‘Spying on me!’
‘There! So we know you’re lying,’ Julie snapped.
‘No,’ Russ said touching his wife’s arm for her to calm down. ‘Not spying.’ It made them sound like voyeuristic perverts. ‘Sophie, we received an email alert saying there could be a problem with the security system so we viewed the images coming from the cameras on our phones. Not only the outside ones but the one in here too. Only for a couple of minutes.’
‘You can see all of this room?’ Sophie asked.
Russ nodded.
‘What about upstairs?’
‘There aren’t any cameras upstairs.’
‘Why do you want to know that?’ Julie demanded, but she’d already guessed. ‘You took him to our bedroom, didn’t you? You little cow. Wait till I tell your parents.’
‘No, don’t do that!’ Sophie cried, her eyes filling. ‘They’ll be furious with me.’
‘For good reason,’ Julie said. ‘Not only have you betrayed our trust but theirs too.’
‘I didn’t mean to,’ she cried. ‘I promise it won’t happen again.’
‘Too right it won’t!’ Julie fumed. ‘You won’t be babysitting for us again.’
Sophie’s tears fell.
‘All right, enough,’ Russ said stepping in. ‘I’ll take you home now.’
‘You won’t tell my parents, will you?’ Sophie asked Russ in a small, plaintive voice.
‘No, not tonight,’ he said. ‘But I think you need to talk to them.’ Then to Julie, ‘We’ll discuss this later when I get back. OK?’ He could see how wound up she was and knew she could easily phone Sophie’s parents – their long-time friends – and say something she might later regret.
Julie gave a curt nod and then, taking a twenty-pound note from her purse, thrust it at Sophie. ‘Here’s the money I owe you for tonight. Count yourself lucky I’m paying you after the way you’ve behaved.’ She turned and began towards the hall. ‘I’m going to check on the children.’
‘I’ll see you shortly then,’ Russ called after her, and led the way out to the car.
‘I’m sorry,’ Sophie said as they got in. ‘I really didn’t mean to upset you both, but please don’t tell Mum and Dad.’
‘I won’t. We all make mistakes. Jules was very worried about the children. You feel differently when you’re a parent.’
‘Thank you. Will you tell her how sorry I am?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Russ started the engine and pulled away. ‘Sophie, one thing I don’t understand is why we were sent the email alert in the first place. Do you have any idea?’ She shook her head. ‘We weren’t broken into and all the cameras are working so the only other reason I can think of is that the system was tampered with. Did you or your boyfriend touch the monitor or any of the cameras in any way? Please be honest, I’m not angry.’
‘No. Honestly. I didn’t even realize that camera in the living room was working. It wasn’t showing a picture on the screen in the hall.’
‘We only have the outside cameras showing on the monitor. So neither of you tried to switch if off?’
‘No.’
At home Julie had checked on the children – they were both sleeping peacefully – and was now downstairs viewing the recording on the monitor in the hall. She had all the camera images showing and the digital display at the bottom of the screen showed the date and time. She had rewound the tape to where Sophie had arrived to babysit at 6.50pm, and had watched her on the camera trained on their front door as she’d rung the bell and Julie had let her in. Then the camera in the living room showed the three of them talking although she couldn’t hear what they were saying as there was no sound, before she and Russ said goodbye and left. Outside, the camera covering the drive showed them getting into their car and pulling away. Julie then saw Sophie sitting on the sofa texting, presumably to tell her boyfriend they’d gone. Within five minutes he was at their front door, so either he lived in the neighbourhood or he’d been waiting out of sight close by. He didn’t press the bell so Julie guessed Sophie must have told him to text her when he arrived as the doorbell might wake the children. They kissed on the doorstep and then the camera in the living room showed the lad making himself comfortable on the sofa and Sophie leaving the room, grinning. She returned with two glasses containing what looked like gin or vodka and ice.
Ten minutes passed when they sipped their drinks, laughed, snogged and groped each other. Julie fast-forwarded the tape and then stopped as Sophie stood, picked up their empty glasses, left the living room and returned with refills. Cheeky little cow! Then sprawled on the sofa with their drinks on the table, they continued their heavy petting. At one point they stopped and cocked their heads as though they might have heard something and Julie hoped it wasn’t one of the children calling out and being ignored. Another five minutes or so and Sophie had her hand down his trousers and his mouth was on her breasts. It was getting close to the time the email had been sent. Julie looked at the footage sent from the outside cameras but nothing untoward was showing there. More heavy petting; she fast-forwarded again and then slowed the tape to ‘play’ mode again as the lad stood. Clearly aroused, he pulled Sophie up and they disappeared from view, presumably going upstairs to her bedroom to have sex.
The living room stayed empty, and the outside cameras showed no sign of any disturbance that could have tripped the alert. She continued to watch, her anger growing. Russ had been studying the dessert menu now and the emails would shortly arrive on their phones. Another few minutes and she guessed it was the time she’d phoned Sophie’s mobile, but she could see it now lying on the table in the living room. She’d then called the house phone but the living room remained empty so the little minx must have answered the extension in their bedroom. She inwardly fumed as she pictured Sophie untangling herself from her boyfriend to reach out of bed and pick up the handset, just as she and Russ did sometimes. No wonder it had taken her time to answer. She’d been having sex in their bed when she’d phoned!
A minute later she saw them rush into the living room tucking in their clothes, now aware that she and Russ were returning. The boy grabbed his jacket and went out the front door while Sophie tidied up the living room, smoothing the sofa cushions, taking out the glasses. She reappeared in the living room, sat on the sofa and switched on the television. Then to her horror Julie saw her daughter appear in the doorway of the living room, possibly woken by the home phone ringing. She watched as Sophie went over to her and disappeared from view, she assumed taking Phoebe back upstairs to bed. She must have only just dropped off to sleep again when they’d arrived home.
Julie watched as she and Russ came in, her face set in anger and shouting at Sophie while Russ tried to keep the peace. She saw herself thrust the twenty-pound note into Sophie’s hand, then leave to check on the children while Russ took Sophie home. Thank goodness nothing worse had happened, she thought, and thank goodness they’d taken the engineer’s advice and had a camera installed in the living room or they’d never have known. What was it he’d said? Many of my clients who take this option are surprised by what they find goes on in their absence. He’d certainly been right there! Returning the screen to the real time images, Julie left the monitor and went upstairs to change the linen on their bed.
Chapter Ten (#ulink_e33a9c1f-77f7-503a-9e67-cb21994d0eee)
‘It is a sad fact that stabbings and break-ins are very good for business,’ Derek said to Paul as he drew the van to a halt outside U-Beat nightclub. It felt strange coming back here after what had happened but there was a job to be done. ‘If everyone was kind to each other and obeyed the law I’d be out of work and there’d be no apprenticeship for you.’ Derek threw him a wry smile. ‘As it is people behave like animals with callous disregard for their fellow human beings, so business is flourishing.’
Paul nodded disinterestedly as he checked his phone. He’d heard similar before from Derek. Derek turned slightly towards him in his seat and Paul knew what was coming next: a description of the job they were about to do. Derek often repeated himself as if no one else grasped anything first time, which Paul supposed came from living with his mother who was old.
‘So we’re going to install two cameras today – one at the end of that alley over there that runs alongside the nightclub.’ He pointed.
‘Where Kev was stabbed,’ Paul said.
‘Yes. And the second camera at the rear of the premises. It’s straightforward. They’ve also asked me to check if any additional cameras are needed inside, but I think they’re well covered. Ready then, lad? Phone off or on silent. I know it’s not a private home but the same rules apply.’
‘Of course,’ Paul said amicably, switching his phone to silent and sliding it into the pocket of his jeans. ‘Are you leaving the van here? It’s on a yellow line.’
‘I know,’ Derek said, irritated, ‘but there aren’t any parking bays free and we’re trade so I can leave it here while we unload.’
‘The last time you did that you got ticketed,’ Paul reminded him with a smirk.
‘And if you remember it was rescinded on appeal. They need to train their traffic wardens better.’ His hand was on the door ready to get out when his phone vibrated with an incoming call. He checked to see who the caller was and pressed to accept the call. ‘I won’t be a minute, lad,’ he said to Paul. Then, ‘Good morning, Mr Williams.’
‘Is that Derek Flint?’
‘Yes. How are you and Mrs Williams?’
‘Well, thank you. I’m sorry to trouble you but my wife and I both received email alerts to our phones yesterday evening about a breach of security.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘You do?’
‘A copy of any alert comes to me. I saw it this morning.’
‘OK. So do you know why it was sent? We’ve been through the tape twice but can’t see any reason. We were out at the time and the message gave us quite a shock. We went straight home.’
‘There was no need to do that,’ Derek said. ‘The advantage of being able to access your cameras online is that you can check all is well from a distance without the need to dash home. I’m sorry, I should have made that clear.’
There was a short silence. ‘Our babysitter was here looking after the children so we thought it best to return. But we’re puzzled as to what could have tripped the system.’
‘I see.’ Derek pondered. So he wasn’t going to share what he’d seen when he’d logged in. ‘Mr Williams, I remember you said you trusted your babysitter implicitly but to be honest the most likely cause for the email alert was that the system was interfered with, assuming your house wasn’t broken into. Do you think your sitter might have tried to turn off one of the cameras without the correct password?’
‘She says she didn’t touch anything.’
‘In that case the internal camera could have been triggered. It has an in-built motion detector. If there was a lot of movement in the living room, for example, by someone dancing or jumping maybe, it could have triggered the alert.’
‘Oh. Yes, that could have been it.’
‘These cameras are very sensitive; they’re meant to be. But if it happens again give me a call and I’ll come and check. I can adjust it if necessary, although given what happened to you before you had the cameras I would think you want everything working as it should be.’
‘Yes, of course. Well, thank you. I’ll tell my wife.’
‘You’re welcome. Was there anything else?’
‘No, that’s it. Goodbye then.’
‘Goodbye, Mr Williams.’ Derek returned the phone to his jacket pocket as Paul looked at him questioningly. ‘Nothing for you to worry about, lad. Now come on, out you get, there’s work to be done.’
‘They haven’t caught the geezer who stabbed Kev the bouncer,’ Paul said half an hour later as Derek came down from the ladder they’d propped against the side of the club.
‘Apparently not.’
‘I read in the paper they are still appealing for witnesses which means they haven’t a clue,’ Paul said.
‘It would have been a different matter if they’d had one of these installed in the alley,’ Derek said, taking the new camera from its box. He’d marked the position where the camera had to be and now passed it to Paul. ‘You know what to do. So no more talking. Concentrate on the job and remember you’re at the top of a ladder so don’t step back.’
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Lisa Stone
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Шпионские детективы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 07.05.2024
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О книге: Stalker, электронная книга автора Lisa Stone на английском языке, в жанре шпионские детективы