The watcher, p.1
The Watcher, page 1
The Watcher
Charlotte Barnes
Copyright © 2020 Charlotte Barnes
The right of Charlotte Barnes to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance to the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 2020 by Bloodhound Books as Play; republished in 2020 by Bloodhound Books as The Watcher.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
www.bloodhoundbooks.com
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Print ISBN 978-1-913419-44-8
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
A note from the publisher
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Also by Charlotte Barnes
Intention
The Copycat
1
Mr Noland was talking to the class about the importance of citing their research. But the back row wasn’t listening. The seats were occupied by the so-called popular boys who, one nudge at a time, were passing a phone among themselves while their teacher went on with his lesson. The handset that the students were sharing soon reached the end of the row, at which point Benjamin Castle – or Benji to his friends – leaned forward and tapped another boy on the shoulder.
‘Don’t give it to him,’ Aiden Harris whispered from two seats away.
‘Is there a problem at the back?’ Mr Noland weighed in.
‘No, sir, no problem,’ Benji replied.
Aiden’s intervention had come too late: the iPhone had already changed hands and another boy was watching the same video that the back row club had been privy to. The boy passed the phone to a girl who passed the phone to someone else. A small emotional explosive, it moved around the room at four-minute intervals, changing hands whenever one viewer became bored with the content.
‘They’re not even getting to the best bit,’ Aiden whispered again. The comment was made more to himself but Rhys Wilkins – another student who had watched the video in its entirety – gave a grumble of agreement. ‘It’s bloody wasted in here,’ Aiden said, speaking along the row to Benji.
‘Harris, what’s the problem?’ Mr Noland asked.
The boy sat upright. ‘Nothing, sir. There isn’t a problem.’
‘Then maybe your discussion could wait until you’re outside of my classroom?’
Mr Noland was one of the more laid-back teachers in the school. Even when he reprimanded the students, he didn’t really reprimand them. When Harris gave his tutor a nod of agreement, and a swift apology – ‘Sorry again, sir.’ – Mr Noland turned back to writing examples of good referencing on the board.
The iPhone changed hands one final time before the lesson finished. Damien Fuller, the quiet boy who remained an outcast, despite his best efforts to bond with his classmates, took the phone from the girl sitting next to him and hit play. He wasn’t even sure what he was being given, but in a bid to fit in Damien always went along with these things. The others watched from the back of the room, their eyes widening, their hands fidgeting with whatever was in front of them, as they one by one realised that unlike everyone else, Damien was going to watch the whole thing.
‘Shit.’
‘Shit, indeed.’
The boys talked in whispers as Damien watched on, apparently neutral to the content. Benji glanced at his watch and saw that it had been a good five minutes now, and he had to admit, he was impressed that Fuller had lasted this long; Benji wouldn’t have thought the other boy had it in him. The video must be close to finishing by now, he thought, there could only be a few seconds–
‘Oh my God.’ The small eruption came from Damien who, hand over mouth, looked up to see the class’s attention shifting focus from the whiteboard and settling on him. The boy, small in stature, sank back in his chair and stared up at his teacher who was standing in front of his desk.
‘Is that something you want to show me, Fuller?’ Mr Noland asked, eying the phone.
Damien nodded. ‘Yes, sir, I think it is.’
There was a collective gasp in the room. Mr Noland looked as though he might have contributed towards it. In his years of teaching there hadn’t been a time when a student had handed over a phone so readily; although there hadn’t been a student in his class who had turned so ghostly pale either. Mr Noland reached forward to lift the phone and in doing so caught sight of the video preview. He gave Damien a quick nod.
‘Shall we step outside for this?’ the teacher asked, and again Damien agreed. Mr Noland turned to address the class. ‘Look through the research you’ve done for your coursework. By the time I come back in, I want at least half of those references to be written out in full using these patterns,’ he said, gesturing to the board. ‘Shall we?’ he said, facing Damien, and the two marched from the classroom, the door falling shut behind their exit.
‘Fuck’s sake, we never should have let it get that far around the class,’ Benji blurted out, thumping the desk as he spoke. ‘Fuller was obviously going to shit himself over it.’
Ceri Mason, who was sitting in front of the boys, turned around abruptly to face her classmate. ‘You never should have brought porn into class, full stop. What are you, a bunch of bloody animals?’
The boys swapped amused looks among themselves.
‘You didn’t even watch it, did you?’ Wilkins said. ‘Like we’d bring porn into school with us. We’re not as stupid as you think, you know.’
‘Yeah, we’re not as stupid as you th–’
‘Harris, Castle, Wilkins.’ The sound of their surnames cut across the general murmurings of the room, forcing the class into an uncomfortable quiet. Mr Noland stood in the open doorway with Fuller just visible behind him. ‘The three of you can stay where you are for the time being, everyone else is dismissed.’ He stepped into the room to clear the doorway for the fleeing students. ‘As always, thank you for your participation. I’ll see you all later in the week.’ The teacher was polite to his students; he’d always thought that treating them like adults would trick them into acting like adults, although the theory had been proved wrong today. Mr Noland gestured Damien back into the room before approaching the fearful-looking boys that were left at the back of the class. The teacher’s top show may have been calm and collected, but as he approached the offenders, with the iPhone gripped inside a whitened fist, Mr Noland couldn’t help thinking: A murder, and in my classroom.
2
DI Melanie Watton set the phone on her desk and leaned back in her chair. Since the copycat case that they dealt with last year, everything around the office had been comfortably quiet. DS Edd Carter and DC Chris Burton had been taking burglary cases while DCs Brian Fairer and David Read had been taking as little as possible, and they thought their boss hadn’t noticed. Meanwhile, DC Lucy Morris spent most of her days with her head in or under a computer, with the technology team teaching her enough to make her the resident tech person in Melanie’s office.
The mundane cases had been a welcome arrival, and she couldn’t blame her team for needing a break from the big reveals. She checked the time before pushing herself away from the desk and heading to her open doorway. Melanie propped herself against the frame before calling out to Burton. ‘Have you submitted paperwork on that break-in?’
Burton hit the enter button on her keyboard with a deliberate emphasis. ‘Just.’ She turned to smile at her superior. ‘Not bad for a morning’s work, eh?’
‘You’re not missing the thrill of hunting a killer yet?’ Melanie asked, her tone one of sarcasm. The two officers had discussed this already and they’d both decided that their killer-days were ones
‘Morning all,’ Carter said as he opened the office door with a swift kick. ‘I brought doughnuts because it’s Friday.’
‘It’s Thursday,’ Burton corrected him without missing a beat.
Carter looked from his partner to Mel, who gave a quick nod to confirm the announcement. He shrugged.
‘Well, arses. I brought doughnuts because it’s Thursday.’ He amended his remark but used the same enthusiasm. He set the tray of doughnuts on the centre table and before he’d managed to get to his own desk, Fairer and Read had already flocked to the baked goods. ‘Do you two not get fed at home?’
‘We don’t get fed doughnuts at home,’ Fairer replied, his mouth already full. Read, his cheeks bulging with what Carter guessed was an entire doughnut, nodded in agreement with his partner.
‘Any occasion for doughnuts?’ Mel asked.
‘It’s nearly the weekend and I’m in a good mood, that’s all,’ Carter said, facing his computer monitor as he waited for his login details to register. Behind him, Melanie and Burton shared a knowing look. It was nearly Carter’s weekend with his daughter, Emily, and Melanie could set his mood changes by these custody arrangements. Carter and his wife, Trish, had only separated six months ago after a drawn-out attempt at making their marriage work. There had been a noticeable lift in the man’s mood since the divorce proceedings started, and his co-workers were relieved to see a spring back in his step – and doughnuts on the table.
The computer finally kicked into life and Carter checked his emails. ‘Have we got anything fresh in today, Chris?’
‘Nothing that I’m aware of. I’ve signed off on the Chamberton Street case, so we’re finalising paperwork for everything else today,’ Burton said, turning to face her own screen. Carter let out a dramatic sigh but the DC held a steady look at her computer. ‘What now?’
‘Don’t you want something more interesting, Burton?’
‘Have you acquired a death wish, DS Carter?’ Melanie weighed in before her DC could answer. ‘We managed to solve cases just fine before Eleanor Gregory dragged us into her affairs, and we’ll manage the average-Joe break-ins and arson attacks just fine now.’ The DI spoke in a jovial tone but there was something serious in her sentiment.
Carter put both hands palm up in a symbol of submission. ‘I don’t have anything against arsonists,’ he said, matching her tone.
Melanie opened her mouth to reply but the sound of her desk phone ringing pulled her back into her office.
‘C’mon, Burton, you’re telling me you aren’t a touch bored?’ Carter pushed.
Burton turned around to face him. ‘Yes, alright, I am a touch bored.’ Carter threw his head back in a display of delight. ‘But,’ Burton said pointedly to catch his attention again, ‘I don’t mind being bored for a while, Edd.’
The two worked in silence for a minute longer until the DI came to stand in her open doorway again. Her eyebrows were angled into a frown as she studied a small square Post-it note. A few seconds rolled by before Carter caught sight of his superior.
‘What’s got you stumped?’ he asked.
‘Report from a local school.’ Melanie’s stomach clenched at the sound of her own announcement; the last report from a local college had been enough. ‘There’s a video going around that the head teacher is concerned about and we’ve been asked to take a look at it.’
‘Oh, well that just sounds like a really juicy–’ Carter’s tone was overblown with sarcasm, but Melanie cut across him as she stuck the Post-it note to his desk.
‘Murder, it’s a video of a murder?’
Burton stood up and grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair. ‘You had to go and ask for something bloody interesting.’
3
Carter and Burton climbed into their shared vehicle and left the station, heading for the school. Melanie had given them all the information she had: a Dr Oakley, head teacher of Milton High School, had called to report a video that had been passed around the students, allegedly showing a murder. The head teacher hadn’t expressed any thoughts on whether the video was real, only that the content was concerning. ‘She might have used the word convincing,’ Melanie added, before sending her officers on their way. It wasn’t the first time a video like this had done the rounds, although they typically ended up being a make-up and staging nerd having a field day. It didn’t hurt to verify matters though.
Carter rounded the corner of the final street and the car came face to face with a stretch of concrete that served as a playground, with a tall and imposing building positioned at the end of it. This looked like the sort of school he remembered going to, a hundred or so years ago. Without thinking, he expelled a heavy sigh.
‘What now?’ Burton asked, glancing at her colleague.
‘What?’
‘You sighed.’
Carter hesitated before answering. ‘Doesn’t it make you feel old, Chris, coming to places like this?’ Burton was a good five years younger than Carter was, and they both knew it. But the information went unsaid until, ‘I know I’ve got years on you but–’
‘Carter, get it together. You’ve got a life in front of you and these kids have got detention and acne. Keep some perspective, eh?’ she said, nudging his elbow and giving him a wink as he pulled into a visitor’s space. ‘Things aren’t half as bad as you seem to think they are today.’
The two made their way into the building. After signing the necessary form they were escorted to the head teacher’s office by a determined receptionist, who was adamant they wouldn’t navigate the halls alone. Whatever else is going on in the school, Carter thought, they’re at least careful about letting anyone in – the police included, it seems.
‘What do you think this bloke will be like then? Strong and stern, or kind and approachable?’ Carter asked as the receptionist rapped her knuckles against a closed office door.
From the other side someone granted them admission and as the older woman pushed the door open, she stepped to one side to allow the officers entry. Carter stepped into Dr Oakley’s office to find a petite woman, no older than thirty-five, sitting behind a large and imposing desk. Burton walked by her colleague and gave him a deliberate knock as she passed him; Carter could see the smirk from her profile.
‘Dr Oakley, I’m DC Chris Burton and this is my colleague DS Edd Carter,’ she said, extending a hand to the head teacher who stood to greet them.
‘A pleasure,’ the woman replied, taking Burton’s hand and giving it a firm shake. When the introductions were made the officers took their seats opposite the doctor and readied themselves for the early details.
Burton had a pen poised over her notepad when she asked, ‘So, you called us here about a video?’
‘Yes, a recording on an iPhone, although I’m told there are several phones around the school that have this content on them by now.’ The irritation was clear in her tone. She had a kind face but Carter sensed the head teacher ran a tight ship. ‘I won’t beat around the bush, detectives, the clip shows a woman murdering someone. I’ve watched the whole thing myself and it’s fairly unsavoury, as you can imagine.’
