The Night Stalker

Erika pulled out her mobile and dialled the number. There was silence, and then a high-pitched tone and an automated voice told her the number was no longer in service. Erika went to the large glass sliding door at the back of the house and, after fiddling with the handle, it yielded with a whoosh. She stepped out onto the terrace. On the back wall of the house above the glass was a white security alarm box with ‘HOMESTEAD SECURITY’ stamped on it in red letters, the same as the box on the wall of her flat.

She came back inside and called Crane. When he answered, she could hear the sound of a television blaring in the background.

‘Sorry to call so late. It’s DCI Foster. Can you talk?’ she asked.

‘Hang on,’ he said. There was a rustle and then the noise of the television receded.

‘Sorry. Is this a bad time, Crane?’

‘No, it’s okay. You just saved me from The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Karen, my girlfriend, is mad on it, but I have aggro all day at work. I don’t enjoy watching crazy housewife aggro when I get home. Anyway, what can I do you for, boss?’

‘Gregory Munro. I’ve read through his phone records. It says he made a call to a security firm – GuardHouse Alarms Limited – on the 19th of June.’

‘Hang on, I’ll just wake up my laptop. Yes, GuardHouse Alarms. It was one of the numbers I chased up this morning.’

‘And what?’

‘I left a message on their answerphone, then a guy called me back to confirm that someone called Mike had made a home visit. He’d checked and all the alarm systems and security lights were sound and working.’

‘What did the guy sound like?’

‘I don’t know, normal. Whatever that is these days. He did have a twang to his voice, a sort of posh know-it-all type. Why?’

‘I’ve just called the number and it doesn’t exist. It’s been disconnected,’ said Erika.

‘What?’ There was a pause and she heard Crane’s keyboard tapping. Then a tinny ping.

‘I just sent an email to the address on the flyer and it bounced back. Mail delivery subsystem error, could not be delivered,’ said Crane.

Erika stepped back out into the dark garden and stared up into the gloom to the ‘HOMESTEAD SECURITY’ box fixed to the wall.

‘Jesus, boss. You think this was the killer?’

‘Yeah. This leaflet must have been hand-delivered, and presumably Gregory Munro contacted the number and organised for this Mike to come over…’

‘Mike was invited in and got to case the joint, gaining access to the layout, the alarm systems, security lights, everything,’ finished Crane.

‘And it’s likely you spoke to Mike today. He called you back on the GuardHouse Alarms phone number.’

‘Shit. What do you want me to do, boss?’

‘We need a trace on that phone and the email address, asap.’

‘I can bet you it’s a pre-paid, but I can have a crack at tracking it.’

‘We’ll need to re-interview the residents on Laurel Road and get details of all delivery people who’ve been seen here, in particular if they saw this Mike arriving on the 21st June.’

‘Okay, boss. I can run some stuff through the computer now. I’ll keep you posted.’

‘Thanks,’ said Erika. There was a click on the line as Crane hung up. She walked to the back fence, the dry grass crisp under her feet. It was still and silent. There was a faint sound of a car in the distance, and the hum of crickets. She jumped as a train blared out of the silence, clattering past on the track at the bottom of the garden.

She moved closer to the fence and crouched down under the tree, examining where the fence had been neatly clipped. Pulling the wire to one side, Erika crawled through the gap. She came up through some long, dry grass onto a path. She stood for a moment in the warmth of the evening, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. She crossed the narrow dirt path, moved through a gap in the tall trees and came out onto the railway line. She could see where the track stretched away into the distance. She came back to the path and pulled out her phone, activating her torch app and training the light left and right. The path was illuminated for a few feet and then vanished amongst trees and darkness. Erika crouched down under the tree at the end of the garden and looked at the house. It seemed to stare back at her: the two dark upstairs windows were like eyes.

‘Did you watch from here?’ Erika said softly to herself. ‘How long were you here? How much did you see? You’re not going to get away with this. I’m coming for you.’