Ill Be Watching You – Deborah Masson

Jen rushed at the door, slamming her palm against the smooth metal panel, feeling at its edges, pulling at them trying to prise it open with her fingertips. Kicking at the door, the crash of the impact echoing around her. Crying in her frustration as she screamed at the door, ‘You need to let me out! I need to see her! Let me out, you son of a bitch!’ Jen felt a hand on her shoulder and spun round. Bill. ‘It’s OK, Jen.

It’s OK. We’re going to figure this out. I promise.’ Jen fell into his arms, sobbing. Both of them breaking apart and turning to stare up at the speaker as it started to crackle again. ‘Find the answers.’ OceanofPDF.com JEN AND BILL CONTINUE to stand looking up at the camera. Looking for answers they’re not going to get from me – the two of them, and the man behind them, holding all the answers they need.

I look at the three of them in the vault next door via the monitor in front of me. None of them have any idea what’s to come. I’ve done a good job of the camera, considering. Everything requiring any power down here now working because I was able to tap into the electrical supply. Infra-red sensor, able to watch around the clock – lights on or off; audio tracking, to hear everything being said – to record everything being said.

Because, until now, I couldn’t be listening and watching twenty-four/seven. I had to bring them here one at a time. They’ve done a good job working that out. One question answered, at least. But I also had my day-to-day job to do. Keeping up the act. Seeming normal. Giving Robbie no reason to question anything whilst I continued to protect the city and its people. As always. The camera feed down here delivers to both my mobile phone and my laptop at home. Even the overhead lights are set up to work remotely.

I’ve been able to dip in whenever and wherever I need to. At work, sat in the CCTV operating room right next to Robbie. In the control room I’ve set up at home. And now, in my underground control.

Deborah Masson was born and bred in Aberdeen, Scotland. Always restless and fighting against being a responsible adult, she worked in several jobs including secretarial, marketing, reporting for the city’s freebie newspaper and a stint as a postie – to name but a few. Through it all, she always read crime fiction, and, when motherhood finally settled her into being an adult (maybe even a responsible one), she turned her hand to writing what she loved.

Deborah started with short stories and flash fiction whilst her daughter napped, and, when she later welcomed her son into the world, she decided to challenge her writing further through online courses with Professional Writing Academy and Faber Academy, where she wrote her award-winning debut novel, Hold Your Tongue, the first in the DI Eve Hunter series. Her most recent book, From the Ashes, was longlisted for the 2022 McIlvanney Prize for Best Scottish Crime Novel of the Year. OceanofPDF.com Also by Deborah Masson Hold Your Tongue Out for Blood From the Ashes OceanofPDF.com Deborah Masson I’LL BE WATCHING YOU OceanofPDF.com To my childhood bestie, Nicola – a girl living her own story right now, and there’s no one more deserving of a happy ending.

OceanofPDF.com Six Years Ago SHE PRESSES HER TOES against the accelerator, no more than a tap, before lifting her foot off again. The small red car sits back from the cliff edge, wet, saturated muddy ground sinking beneath it. The North Sea swells below, opening out in front of her, the shredded white mist wrapped around the grey horizon. Waves crash and clap, loud as thunder, fighting through the silence of the metal box she sits in.

Her body is rendered rigid at the wheel. Face wet as the sea, breath as ragged as the wind outside. Her foot hovers above the pedal. Does she have the courage to floor the accelerator, to cover the space between it and the cliff edge? To let herself fly? One push …

Mere seconds … Her battered trainer brushes against the small pedal again. The blood rushing in her ears reminds her of the life still coursing through her veins. Of the lives lost because of her. She groans and slumps back against the headrest, tears spreading across her beige T-shirt, her throat gulping with the fear and sorrow that chokes her.

Her foot lifts clear of the pedal and flattens against the footwell. She hits out at the steering wheel, grabbing at it with both hands, shaking it until it creaks against the force; howling at the windscreen, knuckles white. Bang. Her forehead hits the wheel, and she sobs. Forcing herself to breathe, her fingers feel for the keys dangling from the ignition. She turns the engine off, rips out the keys and lifts her head to stare out at the water.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 29911c84a267e078
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 2,453,962 bytes (2.34 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 262
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 408.09 minutes
• Total Words: 81,618
• Total Characters: 437,891
• Average Words per Page: 311.52
• Average Characters per Page: 1671.34

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