Lisa Stone - Stalker

‘Yes.’

‘What was the breach of security? The reason you had to log in straightaway and check your cameras?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said despondently. ‘We weren’t broken into. I suppose the message was sent in error. But of all the nights for an error to have occurred. What a horrendous coincidence.’ He looked at her in utter hopelessness, a broken man.

‘It certainly was a coincidence,’ Beth agreed, then fell silent. A recognition began to dawn as two half-formed thoughts came together. Coincidence? Chance? ‘Mr Hanks, when you logged in to view your cameras on the Internet you presumably had to enter a password?’ He nodded. ‘Can you remember if you ever changed it from the default password? You know, the one that came with the system.’

He looked thoughtful. ‘We must have done. Our password is the first two letters of our names plus the number ten. The guy who fitted the system suggested it so we would remember it. I wish I’d forgotten it, then I’d never have known of my wife’s infidelity and we would still be together.’

‘Indeed,’ Beth said. ‘I think we’re finished here for now.’

‘Flint has put in a complaint,’ Matt said as Beth returned to her desk. ‘The boss wants to see us at two o’clock sharp. We’d better have a good story ready.’

‘About what?’ Beth said absently, logging into her computer.

Matt looked at her over the top of his screen. ‘About why we searched Derek Flint’s house without a warrant, of course. Did everything go OK with Hanks?’

‘Yes. We didn’t search Flint’s house.’ She kept her gaze on her screen, scrolling to try to find what she needed. ‘We were invited in by his mother.’

‘That’s what I told boss lady. But she wants to know why we were there in the first place.’

Beth nodded, her thoughts elsewhere.

‘You’re taking this very well.’

‘Yes.’

Matt stood with a sigh and slipped on his jacket. ‘I’m going out now but I’ll be back well before two o’clock. Let me know what our excuse is going to be, preferably before we go in to see the boss.’

‘Yes, see you later,’ she said absently.

Beth had found the file she’d been looking for and was now examining the CCTV footage downloaded from the Khumalos’ house, a copy of which he’d sent to them. The figure in black moving effortlessly down the garden, across the patio, then up the drainpipe and in through the back bedroom window. No hesitation or looking around as if he knew the layout of the house and gardens very well. Then reappearing and leaving by the same route, out through the gate at the rear and across the paddock where the Khumalos’ daughter kept her pony. Beth ran through the recording again, then picked up the phone and keyed in Mr Khumalo’s mobile phone number, hoping it wouldn’t go through to his voicemail. Her heart was racing; adrenalin had kicked in. She knew this was a long shot, and it was just as well Matt wasn’t here, although she doubted she would have shared this with him yet, just in case she was wrong. But there was no point in going back to the hospital to try to interview Mrs Hanks again in her present state. If she was right, then speaking to Khumalo should help.

‘Hello, Khumalo speaking,’ he said answering.

Good, she thought. ‘Mr Khumalo, it’s DC Beth Mayes.’

‘Hello. Positive news? I trust you’re phoning to say you’ve caught the person or persons responsible?’

‘No, not yet, I’m afraid. But I do need to ask you something in connection with the enquiry. Have you got a moment now?’

‘Yes, go ahead, although I’ve told you all I know. I’m sure it’s not someone known to me, and my wife gave you the list of trades people who’d visited the house.’

‘Yes, thank you, we have that. This is about the message that was sent from the security firm to your phone on the night of the incident, alerting you to the possibility that you had been broken into. Do you still have that message?’

‘No, I erased it a while back.’ Drat! They should have asked for a copy at the time, Beth thought, but there hadn’t been a reason then.

‘It was a voicemail message, wasn’t it? Not an email or text,’ she asked.

‘That’s right. As I remember the company gave us a choice – as most companies do now – of being contacted by phone, email or text message. I opted for the phone.’

‘I don’t suppose you can remember what the message said? My colleague and I listened to it on your phone but we didn’t take a copy.’

‘Not word for word but it was along the lines of: check your windows and doors. If you find anything suspicious call the police . But of course I didn’t listen to it until the following morning.’

‘No, I appreciate that. As I remember it was a digitally recorded voice, not someone speaking.’

‘That’s right. It was an automated message.’

‘Triggered by a motion activator on one of the cameras, according to the firm.’

‘I think so. I’ve got a new security company now.’

‘Yes, you said you were going to make the change. Mr Khumalo, the password needed to access the surveillance online – did you change it from the default?’

‘Oh, yes. Give Derek Flint his due; he was most insistent we changed it straightaway while he was here. It’s obviously been changed again since with the new company. I can remember the old password if it’s relevant.’

‘It might be.’

‘It was Anrokh10.’

‘You’ve got a good memory.’

‘No, it was the first two letters of my name, my wife’s, and our surname plus ten.’

She felt a surge of adrenalin. ‘Clever.’

‘Yes, Flint suggested it.’

‘But you’ve changed it now?’

‘Yes. This new firm are very efficient, far more so than the old one. While they were checking the cameras they found that the one in the living room had an in-built microphone. What a waste of money, fitting it and not telling us! Not that we need it; my wife is here a lot of the time.’

‘And you hadn’t asked for a camera with an in-built microphone to be fitted?’

‘No, I guess it was part of the package. But even it if had been switched on at the time of the break-in, being in the living room I doubt it would have helped identify the intruder. He didn’t go downstairs.’

‘No, quite. Well, thank you for your time. I’ll be in touch if we have any news.’

Beth said goodbye and replaced the handset, trying to quell her excitement so she could think rationally. Two clients, different crimes, but where Flint knew their password. But what did it mean? She reached into her bag, took out a bottle of mineral water, slowly unscrewed the cap and took a sip. Was she on to something? Two examples weren’t enough obviously; she needed more.

She took another sip of water, replaced the cap and set the bottle on her desk. Hand on the mouse, she steered the cursor to the Osmans’ file with the details of the break-ins at their newsagent shop. They’d had a number of break-ins during the previous eighteen months – these small shops were easy targets – but the last one had happened after a second camera had been installed by Flint at the rear of the premises. She now ran the CCTV footage sent in by the Osmans. A hooded figure could be seen passing in front of the shop and then a minute later entering the back of the premises through a door that had been left unlocked by Mr Osman. The figure looked similar in build to the intruder who’d entered the Khumalos’ house, although impossible to identify because of the hood. Mr Osman was insisting it was more than one person who’d ransacked his shop, although that was doubtful.

Picking up the phone again, Beth keyed in the landline number for the newsagent. It rang but no one answered and no answerphone kicked in. Perhaps Mr and Mrs Osman were both serving in the shop. Cutting the call, Beth entered the number for Mr Osman’s mobile phone. He answered on the second ring with a curt, ‘Hello!’ It was his manner; he always sounded curt.