Lisa Stone - Stalker

He had a quick look at the images coming from U-Beat nightclub but nothing untoward was going on there, and, as far as he knew, the police were no nearer to catching Kevin’s attacker. He doubted they ever would. Then, as he did every night, he began checking his clients, working through them in alphabetical order.

At first glance it appeared that Mr and Mrs Hanks were in the living room having a cuddle on the sofa. A very good sign. Hopefully, she had seen the error of her ways and had stopped inviting that nasty runt of a salesman, Riseman, when her husband was out. But when Derek enlarged the image it became immediately obvious it wasn’t her husband she was with but someone Derek had never seen before. Another lover!

His anger surged. ‘You cow! You two-timing slut!’ His hands clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. Bad enough to be committing adultery with one bloke, but two! The duplicitousness of some women was unbelievable. Did they have no morals?

That was it. Decision made. He couldn’t stand by any longer and watch Mr Hanks being taken advantage of. He’d been on the sidelines for too long watching and monitoring, and now he needed to act. If he didn’t take up his cause – that of the underdog, the oppressed and lied to – then no one else would. He felt Mr Hanks’ humiliation as if it was his own. He knew what it was like to be deceived, ridiculed and laughed at.

And perhaps the indignation he still felt at the police violating his personal space was fuelling his drive for justice too. He needed to prove himself again, assert his authority – and what better way than by exposing Mrs Hanks?

Clicking on the Hanks’ file, Derek saw that their preferred method of contact was by email. Launching the firm’s email he clicked on the camera warning message, the same email he’d sent to the Williams: 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. He inserted Mr Hanks’ email addresses into the To box and pressed send, a feeling of deep satisfaction surging through him. He was in charge and in control again – and he was helping Mr Hanks.

He’d no idea how far away Mr Hanks was or if he was in a position to check his messages. He hoped he was close and would be able to read and act on the message straightaway – then there’d be a good chance of catching her red-handed.

Mrs Hanks and the bloke were tonguing now, mouths wide open and lapping at each other like dogs on heat. Disgusting at their age, and all those germs. Derek instinctively wiped his own mouth on his hand. He could almost taste her foul breath just thinking about it. What some people found a turn-on he’d never understand. He’d watched the goings on in The Mermaid, sometimes with excitement but at other times in awe and horror. Sex with a bloke seemed preferable, but he banished that thought.

Mrs Hanks and her new lover seemed pretty settled on the sofa so were probably not expecting Mr Hanks home anytime soon, which was good. Lulled into a false sense of security. Derek briefly wondered what Mr Hanks would do when he found his wife, whom he lavished so much on, cavorting with another man. He was mild-mannered and self-effacing and never stood up for himself or to her. Derek had watched her boss him around, spend his money and then treat him like shit. Now, ironically, the security system she’d insisted on having to keep up with her neighbours was about to be her undoing. Wonderful! Karma at its best. He just hoped Mr Hanks had the gumption to take the opportunity he was being offered and leave the cow.

Fifteen minutes passed, during which time Derek checked some of his other clients while keeping an eye on the Hanks’ home. Mrs Hanks and her lover were still on the sofa groping each other, gradually removing their clothes and working themselves into a frenzy. He had little doubt that before long he’d mount her or she him and they’d copulate like a couple of animals.

But wait. As he looked he saw they’d stopped and were now grappling to sit up. Their faces registering shock and horror, they were looking towards the hall as they frantically tucked in their clothes, she doing up the buttons on her blouse and he the zip on his trousers. Derek quickly changed cameras and saw Mr Hanks letting himself in. Great stuff! Right on cue. Dressed smartly in a business suit, he looked as though he’d come from a meeting. But what was he carrying? What was that in his hand? Derek zoomed in. Something metal; he was raising it up to shoulder height, brandishing it like a weapon. It was part of the jack from a car, the large spanner for undoing the bolts on the wheel.

‘No!’ Derek cried and watched in horror as Mr Hanks entered the living room, his face red, eyes bulging, completely consumed by anger and hate.

Mouth dry and pulse racing, Derek changed back to the camera in the living room. Mrs Hanks and her lover were on their feet now as Mr Hanks advanced. His wife’s lover said something but it was lost in the guttural cry coming from Mr Hanks. Like a wounded animal making its last attack, he rushed at the man with the metal spanner raised high, ready to bring it down. Derek gasped in horror. The man jumped out of its way and the spanner thankfully missed. Grabbing his jacket, he fled the house. Mr Hanks didn’t go after him but turned to his wife, pure hatred in his eyes. He was usually so meek and compliant! Derek began to tremble.

‘No,’ Derek said. Mrs Hanks was backing away, backing herself into a corner as her husband advanced. ‘No, don’t! Don’t hit her with that! You’ll kill her!’ But he was raising the metal spanner higher. Derek started in horror as Mr Hanks brought the weapon down – once, twice, the full force of it on his wife’s head. She fell to the floor, a pool of crimson blood immediately forming around her.

‘Jesus! What have you done?’

Time froze. There were a few moments where nothing seemed to happen, as though the couple were actors freeze-framed in a horror movie. Mr Hanks was still holding the weapon, his wife’s apparently lifeless body on the floor, oozing blood.

Do something, save her , Derek willed. As he watched, Mr Hanks seemed to realize what he’d done, and his expression changed from hatred to shock to disbelief. The weapon fell from his hand, clattering onto the wooden floor as he dropped to his knees.

‘Maggie? Talk to me. Oh, my love. What have I done?’ There was no response, her eyes remained closed and the halo of blood pooled as the colour drained from her face. ‘Maggie, I’m so sorry. Wake up, please wake up. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

Derek felt his stomach churn and rushed to the bathroom to throw up.

‘Then what happened?’ Beth asked, pausing again from taking Mr Hanks’ statement until he’d recovered enough to continue.

‘I called for an ambulance,’ Mr Hanks said at last. ‘Then waited by Maggie. She was bleeding heavily. I tried to stop it with tissues but they didn’t do any good. I went into the kitchen, got a clean tea towel and pressed that to her head. Then I knelt beside her and held her hand, hoping and praying the bleeding would stop and she would wake up and tell me she was all right. But she didn’t, she was so still and pale. I thought she was dying in front of me.’ He stopped as his breath caught in his throat.

‘It was a very deep head wound,’ Beth said dispassionately as she wrote. She finished the sentence she was writing on his statement and then looked up at Hanks to continue.

‘The ambulance seemed to take ages,’ he said. ‘I kept the tea towel pressed to her head and talked to her. I told her I was sorry over and over again and that she had to live. I willed her to keep breathing, I’d never have forgiven myself if she’d died.’