Someone's Watching (11 page)

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Lieber said.

The waitress put the coffee and Coke down on the table. “Anything else?”

Robbie’s father waved her off, focused on Lieber. “But what about Kaitlin? What about my daughter? What are you doing to find her? To make sure she’s safe?”

“First of all,” Lieber said, “we don’t know for certain that the two girls were together.”

“You don’t know? Then where is she? Where’s my daughter?”

“Please, Dr. Brooks. We’re working on that. And if you could clear up a few details, that might help our investigation.”

He squeezed the edge of the picnic table with both hands. Robbie sensed that he was having a tough time maintaining his composure.

“Joanne’s parents said the girls drove down from Deland in Joanne’s Volvo. Can you confirm that?”

He nodded. “Kaitlin’s car was still in the driveway at home when I left to come down here Sunday morning.”

Lieber wrote something in her small notebook. “Okay. At least we know there’s only one car involved.”

“Have you found it?” Robbie asked, surprised by how raw her own voice sounded. “Have you found Joanne’s car?”

Lieber shook her head. “We’ve also checked credit card charges for both Joanne and Kaitlin, but haven’t found anything since last Thursday when Joanne bought gas on Miami Beach with her credit card and Kaitlin bought some clothes at the South Beach Urban Outfitters on her card on Friday morning.”

Urban Outfitters. There was something so personal about that. Robbie liked to shop there too. And once again, the connection hit her. Her sister, not some disembodied name, was missing. Her sister, Kate. And she had very likely been raped and—what?

“We’ve been interviewing people at all the clubs to see if anyone remembers Joanne or Kaitlin,” Lieber said. “So far, we’re coming up empty-handed.”

“What do you think happened to Kate?” Robbie asked.

“Assuming she was with Joanne, there’s a good chance that she may have gone through . . .” she hesitated, “through the same experience as Joanne.”

“But it’s been two days since Joanne was found,” Robbie said. “Wouldn’t Kate’s b—” She glanced at her father and started over. “Wouldn’t you have found Kate by now?”

“Not necessarily. The creek connects to the bay.”

The unspoken implication hung over them. Robbie looked out toward the broad expanse of water. If Kate’s body washed out to sea, she might never be found.

Robbie’s father spoke finally. “You’re talking like you’ve already written my daughter off.”

“That’s not true, Dr. Brooks.”

“Why aren’t the police doing more?”

“We’re doing everything possible.”

“Everything possible? My daughter may have been drugged and raped and is very likely now being held captive.” He ran his fingers through his gray hair with a quick, nervous motion. “Why haven’t you called in the FBI? Why aren’t you going door-to-door to find her?”

“I know how upset you must be. But we’re looking into every angle. House parties the girls may have attended. Other victims.”

“Flunitrazepam is known to induce anterograde amnesia,” her father said. “Kaitlin may have no recollection of an abduction or rape. She may be wandering about lost.”

Lieber sighed, shaking her head ever so slightly. “The drug would probably only block her memory of that specific incident,” Lieber said. “If she is out and about, why hasn’t she contacted anyone?”

A shrill whistle came from the table with the men in ties. They
were looking out toward the bay front path. An attractive woman in a bikini was rollerblading behind a stroller with an infant. She ignored the ogling men.

“Let me ask you something else, Dr. Brooks,” Lieber said. “Did Kaitlin give you any indication that she had plans to leave her group of friends on South Beach?”

“I already told you when you asked me before. No.”

“Other than Robbie, does Kaitlin have any friends or relatives in the area that she may have decided to visit?”

“I told you. No.” He picked up the flattened straw wrapper and rolled it between his fingers.

“Has Kaitlin ever gone off somewhere without telling you?” Lieber said.

He shook his head, not looking up.

Hoots and banging came from the table with the guys in ties. The waitress went over to them with her pad.

“What if it wasn’t rape?” Robbie’s words came out haltingly, the idea only half formed. “Or what if it was, but the girls had somehow been complicit, maybe giving their abductor the wrong message. Like they were open to having some fun.”

Her father’s face turned red.

“What makes you think that?” Lieber said.

“You said Kate and Joanne told their friends they might be going off somewhere and not to worry or call their parents.” She didn’t look at her father, but she could hear him breathing harder.

“That’s right,” Lieber said.

“Kate wrote something odd to Joanne on Facebook about their trip to South Beach. ‘We’ll return broken, but fixed.’”

“I saw that,” Lieber said. “Do you have some idea what she meant?”

“I’ve been thinking about it quite a bit. The girls are—were—
eighteen. They’d be going off to college in the fall. They may have viewed virginity as some kind of social stigma.”

“Well, Kaitlin isn’t like that,” her father said. “She and I discussed it many times. She understood the risks and consequences.”

“But she’s only a teenager,” Robbie said. “Teenagers have their own value systems. And what if part of their spring break plan had been to lose their virginity?”

Her father stood up. “Your sister is missing and probably in serious danger and all you can think of are ways to smear her reputation?”

“But don’t you see?” Robbie said. “If I’m right, there’s a good chance Kate is alive.”

“So what are you saying?” The vein in his forehead pulsed. “That Kaitlin and her friend took drugs and got themselves laid? Then how did Joanne end up dead in the creek? And why hasn’t Kaitlin come to me or the police?”

“I don’t know,” Robbie said. “Maybe she instigated the plan and feels responsible for what happened to Joanne. Or guilty. How the heck am I supposed to know what’s going through her head? I’ve never met her. I just know how eighteen-year-old girls sometimes think. And believe it or not, they’re not always rational.”

“Well Kaitlin is rational. And she doesn’t think like you. Thank God for that.”

And then he was down the steps, down the path, and gone.

The men in ties started banging and cheering.

After saying goodbye to Lieber at Monty’s, Robbie biked home in a fury. How dare her father treat her like she was the enemy? First he asks for her help, then he attacks her.

His words stung. They stung a lot.

Well Kaitlin is rational. And she doesn’t think like you. Thank God for that
.

She wished she could just get on with her life and forget this man. But Robbie was determined to find Kate.

According to Lieber, it was likely that Joanne had been dateraped. If Robbie was right about the girls’ plan to lose their virginity, where would they have gone? The best-known club on Miami Beach was BURN. Robbie could almost see how it would have played out. Kate and Joanne, a couple of naïve out-of-town teenagers, reading all about BURN and the club scene in magazines. Figuring out outfits to wear to make themselves look older. Maybe paying someone to make them fake IDs. She thought about the girls she’d seen in their party clothes, conked out at the police station.

When Robbie got back to her apartment, she called Brett. BURN was one of his favorite hangouts, but she’d always resisted going there. It didn’t require much arm-twisting to persuade him to take her tonight.

Just before two a.m., they pulled up to the valet beneath the
overhang at the elegant Côte d’Azur Hotel, one of the Miami Beach grand dames from the 1950s, which housed BURN.

Brett had insisted they arrive when things were already underway, but after working the last few nights, Robbie yawned as they got out of Brett’s BMW. Brett was wearing a black T-shirt, white blazer, and red suede shoes. The silver buckle on his belt was prominent against his tight black jeans. Robbie had concocted an outfit for herself, since she didn’t have club clothes in her wardrobe. With her highest heels, she wore a sleeveless black, low-cut T-shirt, which actually worked as a dress. A very short dress. She accessorized it with a beaded belt and wore dangling earrings with beads and feathers. She knew that even with her connected boyfriend, it didn’t hurt to look “hot” if they wanted to avoid standing in line for an hour or so.

They went past a ragged, disorganized line of young people that snaked through the hotel lobby, waiting to get into the club. The girls were a blur of long hair, big eyes, and lots of skin. Robbie slowed and looked into their faces. Beneath the heavy makeup, she guessed some were well under twenty-one and using fake IDs. Could Kate be in this crowd? Her father didn’t believe so. In fact, he was adamant that his younger daughter was made of higher moral fiber than that. But Robbie wasn’t so sure.

She pictured Kate growing up motherless in Deland, a backwater town, with her dad. What kind of father was he? Was he loving? Caring? She imagined he was, but Robbie could also see him as overprotective and controlling. Maybe a little oblivious. After all, he didn’t seem to fully grasp the pain he’d caused his firstborn; why then should he be aware of how his behavior could be affecting his younger daughter?

Robbie glanced around at the deco curves of the lobby, the adjacent bar with its blue fluorescent flooring, the wall of windows
that overlooked the pool and ocean. Above the rounded sofas and ’50’s-style chairs hung massive chandeliers.

“Pretty cool, isn’t it?” Brett said, as though he was personally responsible.

“They did a good job retaining its authenticity.”

“They spent enough for it.” It was widely known that investors had invested over half a billion dollars on the transformation of the Côte d’Azur into the ultimate luxury destination.

They continued to the right of the lobby. So many girls! Dozens and dozens. Robbie searched their faces, hoping to see someone who resembled Kate. They all did, and none of them did.

“Are you looking for someone?” Brett asked.

She still hadn’t shared her sister’s disappearance with Brett. Every time she thought about telling him, he was distracted by his BlackBerry. And now, she just didn’t have the energy to get into the whole thing. “Nope. Just looking.”

“These chicks have nothing on you.” He gave her a wide grin like a six-year-old. “I can’t believe you finally agreed to come here with me. You’re going to love it.”

“I’m sure,” Robbie said, not sure at all.

The marble steps to the club were guarded by a pair of large, muscled men. They weren’t allowing anyone who was standing in line to pass, but rather ushered in a couple of older men with several tall, stunning young women hanging on them.

Brett approached one of the bouncers, a guy with a shaved head and tattoos covering both of his arms. “Hey, man. What’s up?” They pounded each other’s fists. Brett led Robbie up the steps, nodded at a frazzled brunette with a clipboard, then greeted two more men who were checking IDs by the door.

Brett waved at them like they knew him, and held open the door for Robbie.

The smoky vestibule overlooked a huge multilevel room. Mutating
purple and pink lights played against the domed ceiling and then rotated down, spotlighting hundreds of bodies pressed against the bars or gyrating on the dance floor. The noise was almost deafening.

The club was the antithesis of The Garage—it smacked of decadence, with rows of large booths on the upstairs level, white sofas arranged in groupings down below. Glittering people were everywhere, like glowing algae at the bottom of the sea. There was an elaborate soundstage on the dance floor and a DJ manipulating the electronics with the dexterity of a brain surgeon.

Robbie stayed close behind Brett as he pushed through a throng of people to a table near the back of the balcony, which overlooked the dance stage and downstairs bars. She recognized Brett’s boss, Mike, in his white guayabera shirt, his thin orangey hair pulled back in a ponytail. Mike was ensconced on a sofa between two gorgeous women. A good-looking guy with dark hair, thick eyebrows, and a scarred upper lip stood behind the sofa. It looked like he’d had surgery for a cleft palate and the surgeon had done a lousy job. Robbie wondered if he was one of Brett’s coworkers. He seemed detached from the scene, until his eyes met Robbie’s. Then he scowled, his thick brows merging into one.

“Mister M,” Brett shouted above the din. “Look who I brought.”

Mike smiled up at Robbie, his tightly stretched skin straining at the effort. “What’re you having, sweetie?” He held up a bottle of Grey Goose vodka.

“I got it.” Brett took the bottle from Mike. He fixed two vodka and sodas and handed Robbie a glass. She almost objected—what made him assume she’d be drinking what he was having?—but she decided not to make a scene and gave him a thank-you nod.

Mike’s booth was filled with older men and girls much younger than they. The men checked Robbie out, their eyes running up and down her skimpy dress and bare legs, making her feel uncomfortably
exposed. One of them smiled at her with lots of teeth, reminding Robbie of the wolf in
Little Red Riding Hood
. She turned away.

Brett, Mike, and the good-looking guy with the messed-up lip were involved in conversation.

“I’m going to walk around,” Robbie said into Brett’s ear.

He gave her an okay signal with his fingers.

She decided to be methodical about her search, first walking the upper level. Then she’d go downstairs and check out the dance floor, the bars, and the people at the private tables. She pushed past people gesturing too broadly, and scrutinized the faces of girls who could have been Kate—the ones who were the right height, with blue eyes, or black hair, or heart-shaped faces. Some smiled back at her, others ignored her. None of them was Kate.

Robbie went down the stairs to the stage, which was guarded by more bouncers. It appeared that only certain people had dancing privileges—maybe the freaks, or the regulars, or perhaps they were hired by the hotel. She didn’t care enough to ask Brett about it later. One girl was dressed only in underwear—white lace bra and panties, stockings held up by garters. She danced alone. Around her were small groups of mainly girls, their tongues flicking each other’s like snakes. Robbie felt a little sickened by the public display. The idea that her sister could be here seemed less and less likely. Or was it that she was now thinking like her father and wanted to deny the possibility that her sister would be attracted to this scene?