Someone's Watching (13 page)

Angel nodded.

“Everyone treating you good?”

She nodded again.

“Because you don’t have to stay here, you know.”

Angel felt bugs crawling around her insides.

“You can go anytime.” He took a deep breath through clogged nostrils. “Of course, once you leave here, we can’t promise any protection. You understand, don’t you?”

Angel nodded.

“The cops are everywhere. Your picture is everywhere. Not you, Angel—the other you, with the blue eyes and black hair.” He ran his finger over the arrowhead tattoo she’d gotten at the base of her spine where her dad would never see it. “So if you want to leave, just say the word. We’ll fix your hair and face and put you back just the way you were when we found you—”

Angel was breathing in and out, too fast, like a train heading for a wreck.

“Just like you were when we found you after you killed your little friend.”

White blurs flashed in front of her eyes. She was breathing too fast.

“Is that what you want?” Luis asked.

Angel shook her head.

“I didn’t think so.”

Tyra was kneeling in front of her holding out a white pill. “Here you go, Angel,” she said. “Let me help you with this.” She put the pill on the back of Angel’s tongue and shoved it in farther.

Angel choked and coughed. She gulped down the drink Tyra handed her.

“That’s a good girl,” Tyra said.

Luis took Angel’s face into his hands. He smiled at her, even white teeth against a dark tan. “But anytime you want to leave, just say the word.”

Whiteness filled her head. Leave? Why would she want to leave?

The ringing of her cell phone woke Robbie. Her father? Jeremy? Someone calling about Kate?

“UNKNOWN” flashed on the display.

Robbie picked up. “Hello?”

“Robbie?” The woman’s melodious voice was uncertain.

“Yes.”

“This is Gina Fieldstone. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

Gina Fieldstone? Robbie glanced at the clock on her nightstand. 11:42 a.m. It seemed like only a couple of hours since she’d gotten home from BURN. “No, not at all. How are you?” Robbie sat up in bed. What in the world did Gina Fieldstone want? And how did she have Robbie’s phone number? Then she remembered. The “Missing” flyer. Her phone number was on the flyer. But that still didn’t explain why Gina was calling.

“I was wondering about your sister,” Gina said. “Hoping that you’ve found her?”

The way her intonation went up at the end made Gina sound very young.

“No,” Robbie said. “No news on her, yet.”

“I’m sorry.” Gina paused. Robbie could hear her breathing through the phone. “I know how frustrating that must be for you. I’d like to help, if I can. Even if it’s just to be a sounding board.”

“That’s so nice of you,” Robbie said, touched once again by the kindness of another human being.

“Would you like to meet this afternoon? Perhaps for coffee?”

This afternoon? Robbie still wasn’t thinking clearly. Didn’t she have something to do? Her sister? Her father? Brett? Jeremy? But how nice it would be to have someone to sort through everything with.

Gina was still talking, suggesting a time and place. Robbie said she’d be there and disconnected from the call.

Robbie brought her feet over the side of the bed. The blinds were closed against the morning light, muting the tangerine-colored walls that Robbie had painted herself, the scratched oak dresser, chest of drawers, and rocking chair purchased at a secondhand store. Matilda was lying on the white comforter—a mound of vanilla ice cream in the snow. She picked up the cat and hugged her.

Gina Fieldstone wanted to meet for a cup of coffee.

How deeply Robbie missed her mother.

Robbie got to the Café at Books & Books a few minutes early, just before two. She found a table in the arcade near the entrance to the bookstore and sat down facing the strolling crowd on Lincoln Road so she could spot Gina Fieldstone.

She’d taken a couple of Motrin, but she couldn’t get past the heaviness in her chest. Last night sucked. It really did. But she’d had it with Brett. Especially after his face-off with Jeremy. Brett used to be fun and easy. But that had changed recently and it just wasn’t worth it to her to put up with his increasingly volatile moods.

It was time to tell Brett that things just weren’t going to work out between them. And no—this wasn’t about fear of commitment. It was about being her own person.

Umbrellas shaded the café tables, which overflowed from the arcade into the outdoor mall area. Most were taken. Robbie double-checked to make sure Gina wasn’t at one of them waiting
for her. She noticed a guy in sunglasses and a floppy hat sitting alone. He brought a magazine up in front of his face as though he’d been watching her and was embarrassed at being caught. He was probably just checking her out like guys often did. Robbie turned back to the crowd to watch for Gina.

The street mall was mobbed as usual—a mix of tourists and locals in shorts and sandals. A teenage girl with long black hair walked by. Robbie strained to see her. She caught a glimpse of her face as the girl turned to look in a shop window. Large nose, dark eyes. Not Kate.

Robbie thrummed her fingers against the tabletop. It was two o’clock. Where was Gina Fieldstone? She scanned the crowd again. No slender, elegant woman approaching the café.

Robbie leaned back on her chair. She was close enough to the magazine rack to see the headlines and photos on the magazines and newspapers.

The name
Fieldstone
caught her attention. Robbie leaned back further to see better.
Fieldstone Promises to
—

She took the paper off the rack and opened it on the table in front of her.

Stanford Fieldstone was balding with a shiny scalp, clean-shaven face, and dark, intelligent eyes. There was something familiar about him, but she couldn’t quite place him.

“Hello, Robbie.” The woman’s voice coming from over Robbie’s shoulder startled her. Robbie turned.

Gina Fieldstone was standing near the entrance to the bookstore. She stepped around to the front of the table. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to ambush you.”

“That’s okay. I wasn’t expecting you to come from back there.” Robbie extended her hand to shake Gina’s, but Gina was adjusting the clasp on her cardigan and didn’t seem to notice.

“I was just in the bookstore talking to the manager,” Gina said.
“She asked me to sign a few of my books that she had in stock. I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“Just a few minutes.”

Gina set her handbag and a Books & Books shopping bag on an extra chair, then dabbed at her forehead with a white handkerchief as she sat down. A trace of peach-colored makeup remained on the handkerchief.

The waitress came by and Gina asked her to bring a couple of glasses of water.

“Coffee for you?” Gina asked.

Robbie nodded.

“And two coffees,” Gina said to the waitress.

In the daylight, Robbie could see fine lines around Gina’s eyes and mouth and realized Gina was older than she’d originally thought—perhaps early forties. Gina was again dressed oddly for South Beach—a pink gingham cotton blouse tucked into pressed white slacks and the white cardigan over her shoulders, despite the heat. Her ash brown hair was teased up in a half ponytail in a style Robbie remembered seeing in a high school photo of her mother.

“He’s an amazing man,” Gina said, glancing down at the photo of her husband. “Someone who has the ability to truly make this world a better place.”

To make this world a better place
. Hadn’t someone else said that to Robbie recently?

Gina folded the newspaper and rested her arm over it so that her husband’s photo was no longer visible. She was clutching her handkerchief, and Robbie could make out the initials GT next to the lace border. Gina Tyler. Robbie wondered why there was no “F” for Fieldstone.

“But it isn’t easy to accomplish the things we aspire to,” Gina continued. “There are always obstacles—people, circumstances, even acts of God, which seem to get in the way.”

Robbie thought about her parents’ divorce, the move to Boston, her mother’s illness. She certainly understood what Gina was talking about.

The waitress set the water on the table, along with two cups of coffee and a creamer.

“And that’s really why I wanted to meet with you today,” Gina said. “I know how important it is for you to find your sister, and I thought I might be able to offer a little support and encouragement.”

“I honestly don’t know what to say,” Robbie said. “I’m sure you’re busy with your book tour.”

“But Robbie, my book is about helping women find what’s missing in their lives. If I didn’t stop and try to help some of you, I’d be a fraud.”

“Well, I’m very grateful.”

Gina took a sip of water, leaving behind the pink imprint of her lipstick. “But maybe I’m being presumptuous. You must have plenty of support—family, friends, a boyfriend?”

“No. I don’t really have anyone. My mom died a few years ago and my father’s pretty much been out of my life since my parents divorced when I was a little girl. As for a boyfriend—” Robbie shook her head.

“So the young man you were with the other night isn’t someone special?”

“No.”

The word hung in the air like a staccato drumbeat.

Robbie added sugar and cream to her coffee. It was true. Brett wasn’t anyone special. She hadn’t even told him about her sister.

Gina was squeezing her handkerchief like it was a stress ball. “Well, why don’t we talk about your missing sister? Tell me exactly what happened and what’s been done so far.”

A small group of teenage girls in cutoffs and flip-flops walked by laughing and swinging their hips.

“Kate and her friend Joanne disappeared a week ago Friday,” Robbie said. “Then on Wednesday, Joanne’s body was found in Indian Creek.”

“Oh, no.” Gina brought her hand to her throat.

“The medical examiner believes Joanne was drugged and raped.”

Gina looked pale. She fanned herself with the newspaper. “And your sister? What are the police doing to find her?”

“Flyers, talking to people at clubs, checking out parties. I guess what they usually do.”

“In other words, not much.”

“Well, I’m not sure what else they can do. To tell you the truth, I’m feeling very discouraged.”

“Discouraged.” Gina waved the word away. “And you? What have you been doing to find her?”

“I keep hoping that Kate’s all right. I went looking for her last night at one of the clubs.”

“What else?”

“I’ve distributed flyers, walked the beach.”

“But just one club? Aren’t there dozens on South Beach?”

“Yes, but I’ve been working.”

“At night?”

“I tend bar at a lounge. I had to work Wednesday andThursday nights.”

“Had to?” Gina widened her eyes. They looked violet in the shade of the arcade.

“Well, yes. I had to.”

“I see.”

“I have a job. It’s my responsibility to be there when the boss calls me.”

“I’m sorry, Robbie. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re
not doing your share. It’s just, I know the longer someone remains missing, the less likely that the person will be found. Now’s the time to step up your efforts, before they no longer matter.”

She sounded like Robbie’s mother lecturing her. Be strong. Do what you can. Tough love.

“After I gave up my daughter for adoption,” Gina said. “I thought about her every day and it tore a hole in my heart. By the time I realized I needed to find her, too much time had passed. Records were lost, people retired. I should have acted sooner. Done more when my actions would have made a bigger difference.” Gina leaned closer to Robbie. She smelled like overripe flowers. “That’s why you need to find her now.”

“It’s true,” Robbie said. “There’s more I can be doing. There are lots of clubs where Kate might be.” But what was the likelihood Kate would be at any one of them? Or for that matter, that Kate was anywhere Robbie could find her? But she had to try. “I’ll go back out tonight to look for her.”

“Good,” Gina said. “Taking action really helps.” She softened her voice. “You know, Robbie. It’s not just about finding your sister. I sense that she’s not the only one who’s lost.”

What was Gina implying? But Robbie understood at a fundamental level that what Gina said was true. When Robbie found Kate, she might find something of herself that had been missing.

Gina opened up the newspaper to her husband’s photo. “There are also things I can do,” she said. “I’ll talk to Stanford. Ask him if his people could help.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Thank you,” Robbie said. “Thank you so much.”

Gina took another sip of water, ignoring the coffee. “Well, I’d better get going, but I’ll stay in touch.” Gina left money on the table
and stood up to leave. She clasped her handkerchief against her chest and looked intently at Robbie. “If we do our parts, we’ll succeed,” she said.

Robbie could only nod.

Gina left the arcade, passing close to the table where the guy with sunglasses and hat that Robbie had noticed earlier still sat alone, his magazine open in front of him. Gina turned to Robbie, smiled, and then disappeared into the crowd.

Pink and blue lights from outside brightened the dark walls like intermittent fireworks. Marylou Madison paced across the soft carpeting in her bare feet, a blanket around her shoulders. She had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, like when she was a child and she tried to be quiet as a mouse so he would forget she was there.

But sometimes he came into the closet where she slept, his breath too sweet. She’d try not to move, not to cry when he hurt her. She would look at the peeling paint, the cracks between the wood planks where she could see a tiny piece of black sky. Sometimes, if she really concentrated, she could see the sparkle of a star. And she’d make a wish. “Please, please God. Make him stop.”

Then later, after he left, her mother would sit on her narrow bed and wash her with a warm rag.