I've Been Watching You: a stunning crime thriller from The North East Police Series by K.A. Richardson
Authors: K.A. Richardson
Ads: Link
be OK. It had to be.
Chapter Eight
6 th June, 0700 hours – Tunstall, Sunderland City Centre
He sat in front of the computer screens, focussing on the images in front of him. He knew Clarice was the one, but he still hadn’t been able to stop watching the others. It gave him a buzz watching the women when he knew they didn’t even know, would never think for a second that a camera had been installed.
Maybe when he was finished with Clarice he should have one of the others. Or maybe he should have one of them first, a starter course of sorts.
With a mild frown, he shook his head.
No.
Nothing would detract from her. It all had to be perfect this time.
He entered in the disconnection codes for the other four cameras, the screens suddenly going dark before he could change his mind.
He had already decided where he would take her, the perfect location for their rendezvous. It had been Clarice’s carer who had provided the answer. A simple virus installed on the computers at the Outreach centre, an interceptor on the line as they had called the engineer and he was set to go. Fixing the virus had been easy, installing a couple of cameras also simple. The override for the alarm system had been harder but even that had been no real issue. He actually had access to several potential locations, but he knew this one would work the best. There was something about the Outreach Centre that made this personal. And personal was always good. He knew he wouldn’t stick around for long afterwards.
Noting the positivity posters on the wall of the carer’s office, he shuddered in disgust.
We’ll see how positive you are afterwards.
Most of the preparation work was done. He was ready.
Now he just had a couple more days to wait until D-Day; he smiled, D-Day was an apt description. D for Die. He had a little more time to watch her in her room, doing the things young women did when they thought no-one was watching.
He was pleased she didn’t have a boyfriend. He hadn’t had to watch someone else defiling her – she was his now.
And it would be his pleasure to show her where women stood in his life.
The lopsided grin passed over his face, his scar glowing eerily in the ebbing light of his computer screens. The feeling of power made him harden instantly.
As he watched her pull herself out of bed and stretch gracefully, he pulled himself free from his trousers, and slowly worked his hand up and down.
This was going to feel so good.
6 th June, 1035 hours – Oncology Department, Sunderland Royal Hospital
‘Mrs O’Byrne?’ the nurse smiled softly as she motioned for Ben and Aoife to follow her through to the consultant’s room.
He stood as they entered, his checked shirt freshly ironed with crisp creases, and his warm smile extending down his arm as he took Aoife’s hand and shook it, using his other hand at the small of her back, guiding her to the seat in front of the large oak table.
Aoife sat in the chair beside Ben, barely even daring to breath. Ben’s hand on her knee was a silent but strong message of support. She put her hand over the top and squeezed gently.
‘How are you coping? It’s not easy I know,’ said the consultant.
His voice was smooth, disarming; Aoife felt a little of her overwhelming desire to run fade. She was here to get sorted. She would not run away or bury her head in the sand, as much as she might want to.
‘I’m OK. Still finding it a little hard to believe if I’m honest. I want you to be truthful with me Dr Carmichael, don’t sugar-coat it, OK?’
‘OK,’ Arthur Carmichael leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, leaving his body language open. He was plainly experienced in dealing with patients. ‘At this stage we need to schedule in surgery to start, preferably as soon as possible. I actually have a cancellation tomorrow, if that’s not too soon for you. The nurse will see you after we’re done here and perform a pre-op assessment. What I’m
Chapter Eight
6 th June, 0700 hours – Tunstall, Sunderland City Centre
He sat in front of the computer screens, focussing on the images in front of him. He knew Clarice was the one, but he still hadn’t been able to stop watching the others. It gave him a buzz watching the women when he knew they didn’t even know, would never think for a second that a camera had been installed.
Maybe when he was finished with Clarice he should have one of the others. Or maybe he should have one of them first, a starter course of sorts.
With a mild frown, he shook his head.
No.
Nothing would detract from her. It all had to be perfect this time.
He entered in the disconnection codes for the other four cameras, the screens suddenly going dark before he could change his mind.
He had already decided where he would take her, the perfect location for their rendezvous. It had been Clarice’s carer who had provided the answer. A simple virus installed on the computers at the Outreach centre, an interceptor on the line as they had called the engineer and he was set to go. Fixing the virus had been easy, installing a couple of cameras also simple. The override for the alarm system had been harder but even that had been no real issue. He actually had access to several potential locations, but he knew this one would work the best. There was something about the Outreach Centre that made this personal. And personal was always good. He knew he wouldn’t stick around for long afterwards.
Noting the positivity posters on the wall of the carer’s office, he shuddered in disgust.
We’ll see how positive you are afterwards.
Most of the preparation work was done. He was ready.
Now he just had a couple more days to wait until D-Day; he smiled, D-Day was an apt description. D for Die. He had a little more time to watch her in her room, doing the things young women did when they thought no-one was watching.
He was pleased she didn’t have a boyfriend. He hadn’t had to watch someone else defiling her – she was his now.
And it would be his pleasure to show her where women stood in his life.
The lopsided grin passed over his face, his scar glowing eerily in the ebbing light of his computer screens. The feeling of power made him harden instantly.
As he watched her pull herself out of bed and stretch gracefully, he pulled himself free from his trousers, and slowly worked his hand up and down.
This was going to feel so good.
6 th June, 1035 hours – Oncology Department, Sunderland Royal Hospital
‘Mrs O’Byrne?’ the nurse smiled softly as she motioned for Ben and Aoife to follow her through to the consultant’s room.
He stood as they entered, his checked shirt freshly ironed with crisp creases, and his warm smile extending down his arm as he took Aoife’s hand and shook it, using his other hand at the small of her back, guiding her to the seat in front of the large oak table.
Aoife sat in the chair beside Ben, barely even daring to breath. Ben’s hand on her knee was a silent but strong message of support. She put her hand over the top and squeezed gently.
‘How are you coping? It’s not easy I know,’ said the consultant.
His voice was smooth, disarming; Aoife felt a little of her overwhelming desire to run fade. She was here to get sorted. She would not run away or bury her head in the sand, as much as she might want to.
‘I’m OK. Still finding it a little hard to believe if I’m honest. I want you to be truthful with me Dr Carmichael, don’t sugar-coat it, OK?’
‘OK,’ Arthur Carmichael leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, leaving his body language open. He was plainly experienced in dealing with patients. ‘At this stage we need to schedule in surgery to start, preferably as soon as possible. I actually have a cancellation tomorrow, if that’s not too soon for you. The nurse will see you after we’re done here and perform a pre-op assessment. What I’m
Similar Books
