Saturday 7 & Sunday 8 June 2008
2:02 pm Wednesday 7 May 2008
The first of the venues. The owner, one Mr. Digby Waters, appeared co-operative towards the investigation. He handed over as evidence, his security tapes from the night in question. Some poor mongrel is going to have to sit through hours and hours of videotape because the Senior Sergeant decided he should take a wide selection of other nights’ security tapes as well. Guess who that poor mongrel is likely to be? Yours truly. Mr. Waters didn’t remember seeing Kelly personally, but provided us with a list of employees’ names – everyone from the bar staff to the bouncers to the cleaners. Yet another comprehensive list of people to interview. Seven other establishments, all with owners willing to help, all with fully functioning security cameras, all with comprehensive lists of employees. Back at the station two and a half hours after the end of shift, no overtime but more security tapes and comprehensive lists than you could poke a stick at, and everything needing to be logged into the system before this schmuck goes home.
“Go home Blake. I’ll log everything in before I go. See you tomorrow.”
10:59 pm Wednesday 7 May 2008
I walk in my front door smiling to myself about the Senior Sergeant cataloguing all of the items collected today. Some of the interviews play through in my mind again, only driven out momentarily by the feeling that someone is watching me. And although I know I am more than competent in self-defense, I’m finding the thought of being watched considerably creepy. Then my mind swings straight back to the interviews. Those of the friends, not the club owners. The owners around these parts are mostly horny old guys desperate to impress younger attractive women. Their clubs are reasonably successful and would be more so if they didn’t give away so many free drinks to the many girls they’re trying to bed. But Kelly Mason’s friends are an interesting crew. Not one of them seems particularly worried that she’s gone missing. Isn’t that kind of strange? If it was my friend who disappeared, I’d be terrified. But these girls are as cool as ice. I’m too tired to eat so I go straight to bed after showering. The interviews still on my mind. And all those lists. If I were a conspiracy theorist I’d say something was going on with the lists. Some plan to bog us down in paperwork maybe. Then there’s little opportunity to actually physically investigate the scenes and the people. But sleep comes quickly.
3:41 am Thursday 8 May 2008
I wake with a start. I’ve got that feeling again that someone’s watching me. The only difference this time is that I can almost feel them. I’m sure they’re in the room with me right now. I’m careful not to look around too much, just make it seem as if I’ve woken up from a nightmare. A quick glance around the room as I return my head to my pillow, and I can see where he is standing. Only a slight shadowy movement. He’s careful not to draw attention to himself and I can almost see him breath a sigh of relief as I put my head back down. He doesn’t know that I’m reaching under the pillow next to me for my taser. He thinks I’m asleep again and decides to move. I pull the taser from under the pillow and fire but I’ve missed. He’s not where I saw him seconds before. He bolts out through the bedroom window and legs it off down the street before I can get myself to the window. Is it case related? Or is this guy just some local perv? No, this needs to be called in. Even if he is some local perv he needs to be stopped.
“Patterson, it’s Blake. I’ve just had a break in. Send someone over.”
. . . To be continued . . .