Eyes on You (10 page)

“You may think of him as a friend, but he clearly views you as a member of the enemy camp. Because he informed Vicky about it. And now
I’ve
been told.”

“Oh my God. I didn’t—”

“Look, the stakes are high here, so you have to do as I tell you. If I ask you to research, then
research
. If you get an idea to try something that’s not what I’ve told you to do, like to ask someone for help, then you need to check with me to see if it’s okay. Understood? And leave the crime research alone.”

“Yes. Yes, I understand.”

“I know you meant well,” I said, letting my voice soften. “And I want you to have more responsibility. But you can’t make assumptions and then just act on them. I know Alex talked to you about this, too.”

“Okay,” Maddy said. “I’ll check with you on everything.” Over the phone, I couldn’t decipher whether her tone was remorseful or sullen.

“And do not breathe a
word
to this Jeremy guy about our discussion. It will only make matters worse.”

“Should I ignore him, then?”

“No, no, don’t do that,” I said quickly. “It’s too obvious. But don’t engage in any more conversations. He clearly can’t be trusted.”

“Okay . . . Is my internship in trouble?”

“No. But I need to know you’ll be careful going forward.”

I signed off and sat for a minute more, mulling over the conversation. Vicky had clearly trumped up the details to Potts. At the same time, I would have to keep a better eye on Maddy. She’d seemed to do more than an adequate job during the first couple of months, but I didn’t like what I was seeing about her judgment. I felt a momentary urge to call Ann and ask for her take on the situation, but I quickly dismissed it. I couldn’t keep running to her about
everything
.

There were other friends I knew I could phone, people who would listen, but since the show had been on the air, I’d been an absentee gal pal, so how could I lay all this on someone? “I know we haven’t talked lately, but can I get your advice
now
? The network diva is up my grille.”

I had to figure it out myself. Watch my own back. Be smart. Take control.

The phone on my desk rang, startling me. I glanced at the screen, thinking it might be Richard trying my office instead of my cell. But the screen said Edit Room.

When I answered, my hello came out tentatively. I couldn’t imagine who’d be calling me from the edit room at this hour. No one said anything, but I could hear faint sounds in the background, as if the person had his attention momentarily diverted. I wondered if it might be Tom.

“Hello?” I said again. Nothing. I tossed the phone back into the cradle.

I packed up quickly for the night, desperate to flee. As I was stuffing papers into my tote bag, the phone rang again. Once again, the screen said Edit Room.

“Yes?” I said, answering it.

In the background, I could hear a weird, dull hum but nothing more.

“
Hello
,” I said, this time not disguising my impatience. No one said anything. There seemed to be a problem with the connection. I glanced at my watch. Ten of nine. There was a chance it was Tom, and if so, it could be important.

With my tote bag over my shoulder, I flicked off my desk lamp and headed out to the corridor. There was no one in the immediate vicinity, though down the hall to the right, I could hear the murmur of voices coming from the makeup room. I turned left, and when I reached the T of the hallway, I made another left. Halfway down the corridor, I could see that the light in the editing room was on and the door was ajar. Reaching the entrance, I pushed it all the way open.

Except for all the monitors along the wall, the room was empty.

I had no clue what was going on, and I didn’t have the patience to find out. I’d turned to leave when I heard a noise in the corridor. I pivoted all the way around. To my surprise, I saw Ann walking past the doorway. Sensing a presence, she jerked in surprise and looked quickly into the editing room.

“Oh, you made me jump,” she said. “I didn’t think anyone was down here.”

“Were you looking for me?” I asked, though she’d come from the direction of the set rather than my office.

“No, I was down in the studio, babysitting that reporter who’s doing the piece on Vicky,” she said. “He’s going to watch her show at nine.”

“Do you have to hang around until the end?” I asked.

“No, someone on my team is going to see the guy out. I was just leaving.”

“Let me give you a lift home, then.”

“Perfect,” Ann said, smiling.

“Oh, shoot,” I said suddenly. In my hyped-up state, I’d left a folder of info I needed back in my office. “I need to dash back for something.”

“I’ll go with you,” she said. “I always find it creepy here at this hour. It’s busy enough by the set and by makeup, but it’s so empty everyplace else.”

As we hurried down the corridor, the only sound was the clicking of our heels on the floor, confirming her comment. Reaching our destination, I flicked on the lights in the anteroom and walked through with Ann following behind me.

I hit the light switch in my private office and plucked a folder lying on a table. Behind me, I heard Ann gasp in shock. I spun around.

“My God, what’s
that
?” Ann said.

She had stepped close to my desk and was staring at the chair. I glanced where her gaze had landed. Lying in the middle of the desk chair was a doll—a blond Barbie. But it didn’t have long hair, like most Barbies. The hair had been cut into a jagged shag, almost identical to mine.

I moved closer and picked up the doll. It was wearing a red dress, not unlike the one I was sporting on the back cover of my book, but shorter and sparkly across the top, typical Barbie wear.

“Look at the eyes,” Ann exclaimed.

There
weren’t
any eyes. They’d been poked out with something sharp. And in their place were two ragged black holes.

“Where did this
come
from?” Ann asked hoarsely.

I felt my hand begin to tremble, and I dropped the Barbie back into the chair, as if it were steely hot.

“I—I don’t know,” I said. With the stabbed-out eyes, the doll was hideous-looking, like a prop from a slasher movie. “I was here only a minute ago, so someone must have just left it.”

“This is
sick
,” Ann said. As she turned to me, I saw how shaken she was. “Was there anyone around when you left?”

I hesitated, thinking. “No,” I said finally. “But this is probably why someone kept calling my number from the edit room. To lure me down there so they could leave this here.”

“It’s clearly someone we work with—no one gets by security downstairs.”

“Tom called a postmortem for the producers, so they were all here late tonight.”

“We have to call Potts—and Will Oliver,” she said. Oliver was the network’s own security chief.

“No,” I said, shaking my head.

“What do you mean,
no
? Look, I was totally wrong when I said you were acting paranoid. Obviously, someone wants to freak you out, and it has to be dealt with.”

“At some point, yes. But I don’t want to open a can of worms tonight—I can explain later. I need time to consider the best course of action.”

“Okay, why don’t we grab a drink uptown and discuss it?” she said. “Or you can come by my apartment. I’ll fix us something to eat.”

I pressed a hand to my temple. My head had started to pound. “You know I love your cooking, but I’m completely spent,” I said. “We can talk about it at lunch on Saturday. And until then, let’s keep it to ourselves.”

“If you’re sure that’s what you want.” She looked down at the doll again. “You know what’s really twisted?” she said. “Whoever did this took the time to make it look just like you—the dress, the hair . . .”

“I know.” Who the hell was
doing
this to me?

I thought I heard a sound in the corridor. I froze, straining to hear. But it was just the AC kicking up a notch.

“Let’s go,” I said. I couldn’t stand being there a second longer. I looked at Ann and smiled ruefully. “Though what do we do with Bad Haircut Barbie in the meantime?”

“Why don’t I keep it for now?” she volunteered. Ann tugged the silk scarf from her neck, wrapped it around the doll, and stuffed the whole thing in her purse.

In the car, neither one of us said a word about what had happened, not with the driver’s ear cocked like a TV satellite dish. I could tell he knew something was up, that he could sense there was a secret throbbing beneath our silence.

As soon as I was home, I slipped off my dress and hung it carefully on a hanger, then dropped my bra and underwear in the laundry basket. I tucked my high heels side by side in one of the shoe drawers in my closet. Naked, I closed the stopper in the tub and turned on the water. When the tub was full, I slid into it.

For a moment, I just sat there, feeling the warmth penetrate my skin. Then, with both hands, I slapped the water as hard I could. It sloshed over the sides of the tub and onto the floor.

“No,” I screamed. “
No
.” I smacked the water again. And again.

I’d worked so freaking hard to put all the pieces back together, but things were starting to come unglued. People were gunning for me, hoping to trip me up.

I wouldn’t let them do that. And I would never allow myself to end up where I was two years ago, kicked to the curb and left to watch on the sidelines as the world rushed by without me. I wrapped my arms around my body and rocked slowly back and forth.

Finally, I dragged my arm from the water and looked at my watch, deciphering the time through the foggy glass. Ten-thirty. Why hadn’t I heard from Richard?

I’d thought the bath would make me groggy, but later, I kept twisting in the sheets, too wired to sleep. From somewhere deep in my mind, words began to surface, words of comfort my mother used to say to me in a hushed voice:
Sleep, little robin, sleep
. I repeated them again and again but they did no good.

At seven the next morning, I forced myself out of bed. By the time I was in the car, I felt less frayed, but when I walked into my office thirty minutes later, a sense of dread gripped me. I could still picture the doll lying on my desk chair with the ragged holes where her eyes should have been.

For the next hour, I raced through news sites, making notes and shooting a few ideas to Tom for segments next week. I also dashed off an online interview for my book. Since Keiki was still dealing with dog issues, I was all alone in the office. Every noise made my heart jump.

On the way back from a coffee run to the kitchenette, I took a detour, ending up in the newsroom. I had a question for the booker, who was wrapping up a phone call. While I waited, I let my gaze move from cubby to cubby. I worked with these people every day, I made jokes with them and gossiped with them. Did one of them hate my guts?

I snaked through the desks until I was on the very edge of the space. From that angle, I could see down one of the corridors, the one with Vicky’s office at the very end. She probably wasn’t in yet, but I could sense her essence like a force field.

Later, on my way out of the newsroom, I ran into Maddy, looking lost in thought as she walked.

“Morning,” I said, smiling. I wondered if she might be sulking from the reprimand, but she offered a smile back.

“Hi, Robin,” she said. She leaned closer and whispered, “Just so you know, I took everything you said last night very seriously.”

“Good,” I said, my voice lowered, too. “And you haven’t breathed a word to anyone, right?”

“No,” she said. “No, never.” She bit her lip. “I know you don’t want me researching crimes anymore, but is there anything else I can take on?”

I had to stifle the urge to sigh. “Let me think about it, okay?”

The rundown meeting that day seemed more subdued than usual. Or was it just me? At one point I caught Carter staring at me quizzically. He was trying to read me, I realized, sensing something wasn’t quite right. I held his gaze tightly, not sure what I was trying to convey.

And then I sensed someone else’s eyes on me
.
I turned my head slightly to find Charlotte staring at me from across the table. Her cheeks were red and itchy-looking—the result of being under work stress these days? She quickly lowered her eyes to her iPad and began scrolling with fake interest through her notes.

Finally, at just after five, I heard from my agent. “Sorry, sorry,” he said. He’d been in a contract negotiation.

I recapped the Potts conversation along with the backstory. As expected, Richard was annoyed with me for not informing him in advance about the meeting. “I could have done due diligence, Robin,” he said. “That way you wouldn’t have been sandbagged.”

“I know,” I said. “But the bottom line would have been the same. Vicky has a hair up her ass about me. Should I be concerned about the meeting with Potts?”

“I wouldn’t be. Your show is performing way ahead of expectations, and you’re brilliant on it. I think you were simply a momentary scapegoat.”

“Meaning?”

“I’ve heard rumors that Vicky’s been taking meetings. That probably means her contract is up in the foreseeable future, and she’s hoping to nab a few offers to wave in front of Potts. He may have gotten wind of that.”

“So he’s worried about losing her?” I asked.

“Possibly.”

“Why only possibly?” The comment had surprised me.

“On the one hand, Vicky is part of the DNA of the network,” Richard said. “But she’s not the prize she used to be. All that stuff about Punch Daddy? It tarnished her, and her ratings have never completely rebounded.”

“If her star is so tarnished, why would Potts take me to task for offending her?”

“You know Potts. He likes to keep everyone in his or her place. I wouldn’t worry, Robin. But since he’s developed this ridiculous notion about you being overambitious, I
would
be careful in that regard. Don’t do anything to irritate the man.”

“Got it,” I said. I paused. “There’s something else I need to run by you.” I described what had been happening, starting with the note at the party.

“Robin, this is serious,” he said, clearly shocked. “What are they doing about it?”