Lisa Stone - Stalker

Matt stepped in first and whistled. ‘It looks like mission control in here!’

‘What does he want with all those monitors?’ Beth asked as she followed Matt in.

‘They’re for his work,’ Mrs Flint said as if it was obvious.

‘But why four monitors and so large?’

‘I don’t know. You’d have to ask him that.’

The room was meticulously tidy; Mrs Flint had been right when she’d said there was nothing to see. The single bed with two pillows was neatly made, no clothes or shoes had been left out. All the drawers were closed and there was no paperwork – no letters or notes lying on any of the surfaces. The workstation was clear except for the monitors, keypad and printer. The computer unit standing beneath the desk showed no signs of life, only the Internet hub was showing a continuous blue light.

‘If I didn’t know better I’d say he’d been expecting us,’ Matt said quietly to Beth. Trying a couple of the desk drawers he found them locked.

‘He always leaves it like this,’ Mrs Flint said. ‘What are you looking for?’

‘Nothing in particular,’ Matt said. He opened the wardrobe door, the only door that wasn’t locked.

‘I don’t think you should do that when Derek isn’t here,’ she said. ‘He won’t like it.’

Matt moved aside some clothes and Beth saw Mrs Flint growing anxious. ‘Come on, Matt,’ she said. Then to Mrs Flint, ‘Thank you, we’ll be off now.’ She began to the door.

‘You need to come back when Derek is here,’ Mrs Flint said, waiting for Matt to close the wardrobe before she left the room.

‘Yes, we’ll do that,’ Beth said. Matt closed the door and they returned downstairs.

‘Thank you for your time,’ Beth said as they arrived in the hall.

‘I’ll tell Derek you were here. If you need to see him again tell him in advance so he can be in.’

‘We’ll do that,’ Matt said, and let them out. ‘You could almost feel sorry for Flint,’ he said, as the front door closed firmly behind them. ‘Not exactly character building when your own mother calls you odd.’

‘Agreed. But how odd is he?’

Matt shrugged. ‘Perhaps he just takes his work too seriously like she said?’

‘Perhaps,’ Beth replied thoughtfully.

‘I don’t believe you could be so stupid!’ Derek thundered at his mother. ‘After everything I’ve told you about client confidentiality. I don’t believe it!’ He threw back his chair and made for the stairs.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think,’ she said, going after him.

‘No. That’s your trouble! You don’t think.’

He should have realized sooner something was amiss. She’d hardly said a word since he’d arrived home but had waited until after dinner before telling him the police had been in his room.

‘Not only did you let them into the house,’ he fumed, flinging open his bedroom door, ‘you brought them in here!’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said again.

He began frantically looking around for any signs that something had been moved or was missing. He’d been late home and hadn’t come to his room before dinner.

‘But what else could I have done?’ she asked, gingerly taking a step into his room.

‘Not let them in at all! You had the safety chain on when you answered the front door so when they showed you their ID cards, you should have said I wasn’t here. Finished. Period. And told them to go.’

‘I did tell them to go in the end,’ she said lamely.

‘But not before they’d had a good snoop around here.’ He was testing the drawers now but they were all still locked.

‘They weren’t here for very long,’ she said, ‘and I was here the whole time. They didn’t see anything.’

‘How do you know what they saw?’ he demanded, turning on her. ‘If you don’t know what they were looking for.’

She bit her lip, all signs of her usual abrasive and caustic manner gone. ‘They said you were helping them with their enquires.’

‘And you believed them!’

He took a deep breath and tried to regain some control. It wasn’t all her fault; they had no business coming in here. But he knew from previous experience how sly and devious these detectives could be. They tricked you into saying things you didn’t mean, got you to sign a statement or, as with his mother, had persuaded an old woman to let them in. ‘And they definitely didn’t say they had a search warrant?’

‘No. I would have remembered. They just looked in the wardrobe.’

He checked his clothes, then the corners of the room and under the bed. ‘I’ll put in a complaint first thing in the morning,’ he said, marginally reassured that nothing had been taken. ‘You go downstairs now while I get on with my work.’

‘I’ll do the washing-up tonight then, shall I?’

‘Yes, of course,’ he said incredulously. ‘I’ll be busy up here.’

He watched her go, closed and bolted his bedroom door, then felt a pang of guilt. He shouldn’t really have gone on at her like that but she could be so daft sometimes, and had given him a dreadful shock telling him the police had been here. His legs were still trembling and he felt hot and clammy. He needed to calm down or he’d give himself a heart attack. He was pretty certain they hadn’t seen anything significant – there was nothing to see. But the fact that they’d been here at all, had broken into his fortress, infiltrated his castle and violated his domain made him feel defiled. He could picture the two of them – Mayes and Davis – snooping around, trying to open the drawers to his workstation. Just as well he’d followed his usual practice of locking away all his paperwork and switching off the computer at the mains before he’d left. The only access they’d gained was to his wardrobe and all they’d seen there was a line of neatly pressed clean clothes on hangers with his shoes paired beneath. Of course they’d have seen the monitors but given his job was in surveillance that probably hadn’t struck them as odd.

Yet why had they come at all? Had Paul said something to them? No good texting him to ask; he was unlikely to say if he had. Tomorrow morning first thing he’d phone the police station, speak to the most senior person available and get to the bottom of it. But for now he needed to regain control, concentrate on his work and get back in charge.

Trying to calm his racing heart, he sat in his chair before his workstation, switched on the power and drew in a deep breath. As he waited for the system to load he glanced around the room again. He was sure nothing had been touched or removed but to be on the safe side he’d fit a lock so the door could be locked when he left just in case they came back. His mother could leave his laundry downstairs or in the airing cupboard as that was the only reason she needed to come in.

The screens bounced into life and shone their welcome. The thumbnail pictures coming from the live streams arranged themselves across all four monitors and Derek finally started to relax. He took comfort from being with his friends and extended family again. They looked after each other. He knew their routines and what they were doing; pity the same couldn’t be said for the police. He didn’t have cameras at the police station so he’d no idea what they were up to. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but one large firm had the monopoly on installing and maintaining the security systems for most police stations in the UK. He knew because he’d enquired once if he could tender for the work at their local station and was told that the CCTV in police stations never went out to tender.

Having only recently adjusted the rows of thumbnail images after losing the Khumalo contract, he now needed to move them again to accommodate his new client, Mr and Mrs Reed. Derek had been feeling rather pleased with himself for winning the contract when he’d come home. The couple were an ordinary family with two young children and had accepted his quote that afternoon because they liked his personal service and attention to detail. This had pleased him no end – the personal touch was what he prided himself on. There’d been a break-in at the house next door while the family had been asleep upstairs so they were naturally anxious to secure their property as soon as possible. The contract was a good one: installation of an alarm system, four CCTV cameras outside and one in the entrance lobby, with online access, of course. The camera in the lobby would come with the added bonus of a built-in microphone, although Mr and Mrs Reed didn’t know that. Like all his other clients he would look after them well, make sure they behaved themselves and came to no harm.