Page 51 of Nothing Watching

And then, jerked from her musings, she heard the scream. It was from the alleyway she’d just left, and it was a woman’s voice—high, panicked, shrill.

With her heart in her mouth, she darted back into the narrow street.

There was the scenario she’d waited for, the scene she’d prepared for. A blonde woman, with her back to Juliette, was embroiled in a desperate fight with a tall man wearing a hooded coat. As Juliette watched, he wrenched at her arm, and she stumbled down on one knee, screaming again.

“Attack in progress, backup needed,” Juliette called breathlessly into her earpiece as she raced toward him. No time to wait, she had to tackle him now.

Then she was there, on him, shoving him viciously aside, grabbing his arm, twisting it back. This was the killer and she had him, and no way was he going to get away again.

In an instant, he lunged at her with an angry cry, but Juliette was ready for him. She sidestepped his attack, grabbing his collar and slamming him against the wall.

The man struggled as Juliette held him, trying to break free from her strong grip. She could feel his muscles tense against her fingers, his hood falling back and revealing his face. And then she saw it—his face, the young, unlined face of a man in his twenties, framed by frizzy red hair.

Juliette caught her breath as she saw what was in his hand, now dropping to the ground as he began gabbling out apologies and excuses in German. It was the woman’s purse. A sleek, black leather item with a silver chain that even now the woman was grabbing up in relief, uttering curses at the killer and breathless, tearful thanks to Juliette, as two more officers rushed into the alleyway.

Within a moment, they’d grabbed and handcuffed the man.

But now Juliette feared that this had gone horribly wrong, and he was not their man.

“What were you doing here?” she asked him, as the cops held one arm each. They were at the corner of the alleyway and attracting an interested crowd. If the killer was among them, she’d blown her cover, and might have ruined this entire operation, because seeing so many police officers in his neighborhood could scare him off tonight.

She had been compelled to rush in, but it now meant that everyone in this area was aware of the police presence, and of her.

“I—I didn’t mean to do anything wrong,” he gabbled. “I just saw her purse and thought—you know—I needed the money.”

With the cuffs holding back his coat sleeves, she saw the needle tracks on his wrists, and knew why he had needed that money, why he’d been out on the prowl.

“Take him in, please,” she told the officers. “Search him. Take DNA samples. He’s a thief and a robber, for sure. But I don’t think he’s the murderer.”

There were too many differences between this man and the one they were hunting. This man was simply another criminal, someone looking for money for drugs, and it couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Now, they were two officers down, and her cover might well be blown. The best thing she could do now was to switch surveillance areas, Juliette thought morosely, as she watched one cop load the would-be criminal into the van, while the other took a full statement from the victim.

This incident might even have prevented the killer from going out tonight, if he was nearby. They wouldn’t get a second chance tomorrow. If there were no results and no arrests, Juliette had no doubt at all that they’d be pulled off the case.

She got out her phone again and began walking down the street, toward the area where the next officer would be—that was Officer Lehmann, she remembered.

But, if they decided to switch areas, moving into territory they hadn’t researched, it would leave a gap in the net. This was exactly what they didn’t need. It would leave an opportunity for him to strike and kill unseen. Everything was all going so very wrong.

She raised her hand to her headset, adjusting it so that she could call in to Sierra and ask her to handle the switch. As she was about to make the call, she rethought.

What if he hadn’t seen anything? Maybe she was making too much of what had just happened, and the best thing for her to do would be to go back to her covert surveillance, hold her nerve, and be patient.

She felt agonized by the decision she had to make. Wait or go? Which would get her the better results?

Taking a deep breath, Juliette told herself not to panic. She was going to remain on her beat. She just needed to make sure she stayed out of sight.

Thankful for the stern talking to she’d given herself, and the small changes she’d decided to make, she continued on her way, walking quietly past the apartments and then finding a doorway to shelter in as she watched the back street.

It was then that she saw him.

A respectable-looking man, in a black coat and a fedora, heading north. He had a walking stick in his hand and was clean shaven, and her first thought was that he was older than the killer could be. He moved tentatively, stiffly, and her gaze was about to pass over him.

Then she saw something that alerted her.

She saw his head jerk around, as if hypnotized by something he’d just spotted.

Following his line of sight, she saw a woman—in her early twenties, with classically beautiful bone structure and white-blond hair pulled back in a ponytail—hurrying along the street.

The man with the walking stick was now moving in her direction. And at first, Juliette thought she was going to outpace him.

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