He peered from behind the window shutters, waiting until Watson’s car reversed off the driveway. He’d deliberately arrived early knowing Nora was schooled on Saturday afternoons and counted on Watson’s inherent trust to leave him alone there. She saw the good in people, but she had misread him.
Bruno moved swiftly from room to room searching for a tablet or computer. Eventually he found a tablet, a paper-thin device stuck to the fridge. Then using techniques and hacks he had learned from his implanted data, he bypassed Watson’s iris and biometric scans to access the gadget and its apps. First, he located her online banking accounts, as easy to break into as the device. There were three in her name, one for savings, one for bills and one in her daughter’s name. He totted up the funds at her disposal – there was close to £2 million.
This was his money that she had stolen.
It was Watson and lawyers including O’Sullivan and Graph – Bruno’s first two victims – who ensured he would not receive a payout following Zoe’s death. Zoe’s employer had, however, paid large sums in compensation to the two men who accused her of sexual harassment after her death to keep it from being made public. As one of the top fivefirms in the country for its commitment to staff welfare, it was desperate to protect its reputation.
Breaking the morality code by having an affair with Zoe meant that Watson’s husband’s dependents wouldn’t receive a payout either. She had jumped on the bandwagon of Zoe’s other two accusers and claimed Mark had also been coerced into having sexual relations with Zoe; that he had told her on several occasions he feared for his job if he didn’t give her something. Bruno didn’t understand why the company had not refuted this. They had all witnessed the footage of the two having sex and it was obvious that he was a more-than-willing partner. Yet they still readily accepted Watson’s word that it was harassment and paid her to keep quiet too.
To recoup their losses, they sued Zoe’s estate and won, picking at what remained of Bruno’s life like a wake of vultures stripping a carcass bare. He was plunged into bankruptcy.
Today, Watson was clueless that the man she had left inside her house was about to strip her of her ill-gotten gains and transfer her savings into one of his old accounts. Later that evening, the money would be buried in new foreign accounts scattered around the globe that Watson was unlikely to ever find. Soon she would learn how it feels to be broke and helpless.
Chapter 57
FLICK, ALDEBURGH, SUFFOLK
Flick sat bolt upright in bed, the room spinning like a disorientating fairground ride. She gripped the bunched-up bedsheets, waiting for the image of a bloody Sinéad to pass.
A sudden feeling of nausea meant she had taken to Elijah’s bed late that afternoon. She had slept for an hour or so before the dreams began in earnest and she’d woken herself up in a panic. She pressed the back of her head against the headboard until the bedroom came to a standstill.
There were still so many questions hanging mid-air following Sinéad’s murder. Who had killed her? Why did the killer want the remaining Minders to know he’d located one of them? Had he hoped her death might panic them into making mistakes? Had Sinéad made errors that Flick could learn from? And why had Karczewski’s death been removed from online news sites?
Taking her phone from under the pillow, Flick was unsteady on her feet as she made her way to the bathroom. She closed the door softly so that Elijah couldn’t hear her from his studio and sank to the floor to vomit as quietly as she could. She dabbed a damp flannel against her burning forehead but when it failed to cool her down, she stripped off her T-shirt and knickers and sat in the shower under a jet of lukewarm water.
The days and nights after Sinéad’s death were spent trying to continue as if everything was perfectly normal in her abnormal world. If she wasn’t spending time with Grace or working behind the bar at the pub, then she was at Elijah’s house. Her daily runs and unaccompanied time watching the sun rise from the beach were a thing of the past. Her new routine might have been keeping her captive but it was also keeping her safe.
Turning off the shower, Flick patted herself dry with a towel and made her way downstairs into the kitchen, grabbing a cranberry juice from the fridge.
While the dizziness had dulled, the nausea remained, and soon, she was rushing to the kitchen sink to be sick again. She rinsed her mouth with water when an awareness hit her with the force of a lightning bolt.
‘Oh, no,’ she gasped. ‘Oh Christ, no.’
Chapter 58
BRUNO, OUNDLE, NORTHAMPTONSHIRE
Bruno estimated he had approximately twenty minutes left until Karen Watson returned home. But as he was about to press the transfer button that would drain her of her finances, a photo-album icon on her home screen labelled ‘Family’ caught his attention. Curious, he skimmed through its contents. Amongst the photographs was a video clip of a very young Nora in her first motorised wheelchair. Her body was more flexible back then and she giggled as she spun in circles, and he could hear out-of-shot warnings coming from her parents advising her to be careful.
Another clip was more recent and featured Watson guiding her daughter around their new home, explaining the extensive renovation work being carried out to ensure it was wheelchair friendly. A camera lingered on Watson for a moment. She was clearly emotional as she regarded Nora and their dog Luna exploring the garden together. Bruno recognised pride when he saw it. He too would take time out of his day to watch his son doing nothing in particular. It made him miss Louie with an intensity that for a moment threatened to swallow him.
A photograph of Watson’s husband caught him unawares. Bruno purposely avoided images of the man Zoe had sleptand died with; he’d only seen overhead video footage of the two having sex. Mark was not as Bruno had imagined – not a devilishly handsome Mr Darcy type, swooping in and sweeping unhappily married women off their feet. Instead, he was quite short in stature, of average looks and with a slight stomach paunch.
‘You’re having second thoughts, aren’t you?’ The ensemble of Echoes had made their way from Watson’s neighbour’s garden into her kitchen. A young man stepped forward, dressed in a blue Royal Navy uniform. Both sleeves and a trouser leg were scorched by fire and the skin on his arms was either blackened or burned raw. ‘There’s no shame in admitting this feels wrong.’
Bruno shook his head, but he was conflicted. ‘If I don’t do it, then what’s been the purpose of all of this?’
‘Have the people you killed brought you any closer to getting your wife or son back?’
‘No.’
‘The satisfaction you found from their murders – how long did it last?’
‘Not long.’
‘What will you achieve by taking away everything Watson and Nora have?’
‘I’ll get justice for Louie.’
