Stalker

Chapter Twenty-Eight

‘Absolutely nothing,’ Matt said frustrated, setting down his desk phone again. ‘I’m over halfway through Flint’s list of apprentices and not one of them knows anything about his business, let alone saw anything suspicious. However, contrary to what Flint told us, he didn’t teach them so well that they left to get better jobs. They all left because he taught them bugger all. They seem to have spent their entire time sweeping up, cutting wire, and occasionally being allowed to tighten a screw. I’ll continue through the list, but I’m not hopeful. I take it you’re having more luck?’

‘Not too bad,’ Beth said, glancing up at Matt over her computer screen. ‘So far a dozen of the clients I’ve contacted changed their passwords on Derek’s suggestion, all to the first two letters of their names plus 10. So we know for sure he could access all those systems. When I asked them to check their cameras for a built-in microphone, they all discovered at least one of their cameras had a mic. None of them had been aware of it.’

‘But that doesn’t prove he was spying on them,’ Matt said. ‘The mic might have come as standard as it does on most laptops now.’

‘I know, I need more. The Mermaid Massage Parlour is the next on my list, although I’m expecting the same there.’

‘It might be better if I visited them in person?’ Matt offered with a suggestive wink. ‘You know, the hands-on personal touch.’

‘Just concentrate on your work,’ Beth chided with a smile. ‘I’m quite capable of managing this.’

She keyed in the phone number for The Mermaid and the phone was answered by Betty.

‘Hello, it’s DC Beth Mayes at Coleshaw police station.’

‘Your lot were only here last month. I can’t be due for another raid yet?’

‘No. I need to ask you a few questions about your surveillance system.’

‘OK. What about it?’

‘I understand it was fitted by Home Security?’

‘Correct.’

‘Can you tell me how many cameras you have and where they are situated?’

‘We have one in the entrance and one in each of the rooms.’

‘Do you know if any of the cameras have in-built microphones?’

‘Yes, they all do,’ she said matter-of-factly.

Beth was completely thrown. It wasn’t the response she’d been expecting. ‘And the microphones are switched on?’ She saw Matt watching her, intrigued.

‘Yes. It helps keep everyone safe.’

‘Does anyone else have access to your surveillance system apart from you?’

‘Why?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘It’s part of an investigation into online safety.’

‘I doubt it, but there’s no reason why you shouldn’t know. Me and the guy who fitted the system have access to it.’

‘Derek Flint?’

‘Could be.’

‘Is it?’

She sighed. ‘Yes.’

‘So he knows your password?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do the girls know he can watch them?’

‘Of course. They don’t mind if it keeps them safe.’

‘Does he ever visit The Mermaid in person?’

Betty gave a hearty laugh. ‘No love, of course not. He’s a voyeur like so many of them online. They like to watch but don’t touch. It’s not an offence if the person knows they’re being filmed.’

‘I know. OK, Betty, thank you for your time.’

‘Always glad to help the police,’ she said with only a hint of sarcasm.

Beth replaced the handset and looked at Matt. ‘Well, well.’

‘I told you he was weird,’ Matt said, aware of the gist of the conversation.

‘Each to his own, I suppose. But I still need to prove he was spying on his clients to gain information to commit the crimes.’

Beth put a C and a tick beside The Mermaid Massage Parlour on her list, denoting that Betty knew the cameras had built-in microphones and they were in use. All the others had a C and an X, showing there was a mic but they weren’t aware of it and it wasn’t in use. She now phoned the next on the alphabetical list Derek Flint had emailed.

It was a long day but by five o’clock Beth had come to the penultimate name: Mr and Mrs Williams. Stiff from sitting at her computer, she stood and stretched. Matt had left an hour before to visit Paul to see if he could jog his memory. As the most recent of Derek’s apprentices he was the most likely to remember something. She stretched again, took a sip of mineral water and returned to her chair, considering what she knew. All the clients she’d contacted so far had changed the default password on Derek’s instructions and at least three had found in-built microphones they weren’t aware of, but it still didn’t prove Derek was spying on them and gaining information to commit crimes. Only his computer would reveal that and at present they just didn’t really have enough evidence to bring him in and seize his equipment.

Beth dialled the Williams’ house and with a stab of horror recognized the address. It was the same family she and Matt had visited a few months back after a break-in had gone horribly wrong and resulted in Mr Williams being viciously attacked. They must have installed CCTV subsequent to the attack, but in choosing Home Security had they become any safer? Not if her suspicions were correct.

Julie Williams answered.

‘Hello, DC Beth Mayes here from Coleshaw police station.’

‘Hi. How are you?’ she said, recognizing her name. ‘Have you caught the person who broke in?’

‘Not yet, I’m afraid, but we’re still working on it.’

‘We had the CCTV put in like you suggested. Even so, it was a long time before we felt safe in our home again.’

‘I’m sure it was. How is Mr Williams now?’

‘He’s made a full recovery, thank you.’

‘Excellent. I’m actually phoning about your security. Could you answer a few questions?’

‘I’ll try.’

‘Am I right in thinking that you have used the firm Home Security?’

‘I’m not sure, there’s a sticker on the monitor in the hall. Shall I check?’

‘Yes, please.’

She was gone a moment. ‘Yes, it is Home Security. I remember now, a man called Derek Flint. He was very efficient and got everything done in a day. We were so relieved.’

‘Do your cameras have in-built microphones, do you know?’

‘I don’t think so. Should they?’

‘No.’ Beth put a question mark beside their name. ‘Did you change the password from the default – the one it came with?’

‘Oh yes. Mr Flint was very insistent on that.’

‘Do you still remember it?’

‘Yes, it’s easy, a combination of our names plus the number ten.’

‘Thank you. Have you changed it recently?’

‘No.’

‘I think you should. It’s a good idea to change passwords every few months.’

‘I’ll do it later when my husband comes in. It needs to be something we can both remember so we can log in and check when we’re out.’

‘Do you have to check it often then?’

‘We have been doing after the business with our babysitter. We’ve got a new sitter now but I wouldn’t trust anyone after that.’

‘What happened with the sitter?’ Beth asked.

‘We caught her in our bed with her boyfriend.’ Beth suppressed a smile. ‘It was pure luck that we received the email when we did or we would never have known.’

‘What email would that be?’ Beth asked, her interest piqued.

‘It was an automatic email sent by the security firm, but it turned out to be an error. Russ and I were out for a meal when we received it.’

Beth felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. ‘What did the email say?’

‘I can’t remember exactly something like there may be a security issue and to log in and check the CCTV cameras.’

‘Then what happened?’

‘We did as the email said and logged in while we were still in the restaurant. We’d just finished eating. We saw our babysitter and her boyfriend go into the living room tucking in their clothes. We had no idea he was there. We went straight home. Later, when we played back the CCTV we discovered they’d gone upstairs and presumably used our bed. One of my kids woke and she just got ignored. Thank goodness we took Mr Flint’s advice and had a camera in the house as well as those outside or we’d never have known.’

‘That was very fortunate,’ Beth agreed, trying to keep the excitement from her voice. ‘What was the security issue?’

‘There wasn’t one. Mr Flint said that sometimes the auto alerts go off unnecessarily as the system is very sensitive to any disturbance. It was a lucky coincidence that it happened when it did.’

‘Yes, a very lucky coincidence,’ Beth said. ‘Well, thank you for your time. I’ll be in touch when I have some news.’

‘Is that all you wanted to know?’

‘For now. Thank you. And don’t forget to reset your password.’

‘I won’t.’

Beth set down the phone and punched the air. ‘Yes! Got you! One too many coincidences, Mr Flint! Your luck has just run out.’ She scooped up the paperwork she needed and went in search of the DCI. Surely they had enough to bring him and his computer in now?

At 6.30pm Derek logged on to his computer, and, to his horror, saw that virtually all four screens were empty. Only five live streams remained. For a brief moment he thought it must be a software problem for so many to be down, but then quickly realized that he’d sent Beth Mayes his list of clients. He’d been tricked. She was responsible; she must have gone through the list, contacted them and told them to change their passwords. Worrying enough, but what else had she said to them? What questions had she asked and, more importantly, what had they told her?

As he stared at the nearly blank screens, the Williams disappeared too.

Panic gripped him. His stomach churned and his throat closed. The police were onto him, they must be. Time was running out. He clicked the mouse to bring up the files and began deleting them. Rows and rows, column after column. Hundreds of documents, all neatly filed in order, his life’s work. He’d destroy anything that could incriminate him. But it was taking too long so he began deleting indiscriminately, complete folders: information on clients, spreadsheets, photographs, live streamed videos. As he deleted them, they were automatically sent to the trash bin, which he emptied every so often. Are you sure you want to permanently delete 1000 files? the message box kept asking him. He clicked Yes. Only of course he knew it wasn’t a permanent, complete deletion; nothing is ever completely deleted on a computer. All the files and folders would still be in the coding on the hard drive, and with the right technology they could be retrieved. But at least they weren’t obvious now and deleting them might have bought him some more time.

He unlocked the top drawer of his workstation and removed the two portable hard drives on which he backed up all his files – more incriminating evidence. Plugging in the first, he began deleting files and folders, trying to wipe it clean. The front door bell rang and his hand momentarily froze. Don’t panic, it’s probably a charity collector or double glazing salesperson, he told himself, and continued frantically clicking and deleting.

‘Derek! Door!’ his mother shouted from downstairs. He kept going and heard it ring again. ‘Derek!’

‘Answer it, you silly cow,’ he cursed, clearing the trash bin again. He heard the front door open and voices in the hall. Then footsteps on the stairs, more than one. He highlighted another line of folders and pressed delete.

‘Police! Open the door.’ He kept quiet. ‘Derek, we know you’re in there.’

A hard double rap and the doorknob turned and rattled, the small bolt keeping them out for now. Perspiring heavily, Derek continued to delete. They were trying to force the door now; the bolt wouldn’t hold for long. In a frantic last ditch attempt he cleared the trash bin and switched off the computer. Another thud against the door and the bolt gave way. The officers poured in. He stood and turned to face them, four in all. One stepped forward and began handcuffing him.

‘Derek Flint, I’m arresting you for aggravated burglary and grievous bodily harm with intent. You do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned…’

And, as the police officer continued to read him his rights, he looked past him to his mother who was standing on the landing, weeping.