Someone's Watching (20 page)

“Why do people have to be such jerks?” Jeremy said.

Why indeed? Robbie thought.

They continued in silence, the harsh sound of the Corvair’s engine competing with the wind through the open windows. Jeremy didn’t finish his thought about Brett being out of the picture. Robbie wondered if he was waiting for her to say something.

Rivulets of cobalt water appeared in the brown sawgrass, spreading into wider blue-green canals that wound their way through the mangroves. In the next moment, Robbie caught her breath as the turquoise, crystalline waters of Card Sound appeared on their left, the bay on their right. They climbed a bridge. Masts of small boats bobbed in a cove, the sky a perfect cloudless blue.

Robbie had been to the Keys once before, but what about Kate? Had this been her first time? Would her sister have also been awed
by the startling beauty? Would she have felt a sense of freedom as she crossed into paradise?

Beyond the bridge, was Key Largo and civilization.

The Circle K was the first thing they saw. They pulled into the parking lot and went inside. It was a large, modern store with a dozen people milling about. Two women in matching red shirts were working behind the checkout counter. When Robbie showed them the flyers, the women looked at each other and laughed. “Do you know how many people come through here every day?” the chubby one said. “There’s no way we’d remember them.”

Robbie and Jeremy went back to the car.

“It’s just our first stop,” he said. “Someone will remember them.”

“Yes,” Robbie said, trying to sound more certain than she felt. “Someone will remember them.”

They went south on U.S. 1, passing low pastel-painted buildings and strip malls, RV parks, sandal outlets, and dive centers. Jeremy drove slowly, stopping at each bar so they could talk to the bartenders and customers. Most of the bars were dark and seedy and seemed to cater to a local crowd. At many of them, they were told someone had already been in with flyers of the girls, but no one recognized either of them.

“At least Lieber’s guys are doing their job,” Jeremy said, back in the car.

Robbie nodded, but wondered how much good that was if no one remembered seeing Kate.

They continued toward Islamorada past roadside pottery stands, bougainvillea nurseries, and then through stretches of undeveloped land. On either side of the causeway, there were turnoffs leading to the bay and ocean. Robbie caught glimpses of expensive houses where the shoreline jutted out into the bay.

Jeremy pulled off the road into a parking lot next to an outdoor tiki hut bar. “This place looks promising,” he said.

They walked on packed sand. There was a dance floor made of wood planks, and a steel band in one of the tiki huts was playing reggae. The crowd was light. Tourists were recognizable by their red arms and faces, the white outline of bathing suit straps on the shoulders of women in halter tops and sundresses. The regulars had skin like brown rawhide, and wore faded print shirts or T-shirts. The smell of fish was particularly strong from the nearby docks, where charter fishing boats had returned with buckets of fish to clean.

They talked to the young guy who was tending bar and showed him the flyers.

“Sorry,” he said. “Can’t help you.”

“Damn,” Jeremy said when they got back to the car. “I was sure that was the place.”

Robbie nodded and bit down on her lip. Was it possible they wouldn’t find a single person who had seen her sister?

Jeremy turned south on the highway. The cars ahead of them were going about five miles an hour. Without air-conditioning and the flow of wind through the open windows, it had gotten uncomfortably hot. Robbie rested her elbow on the window frame and watched the signs go slowly by: key lime pie, T-shirts, gifts, shells, souvenirs. Bud N’ Mary’s Marina.

She did a double take. That was where Puck’s billed cap was from. The marina was five miles ahead.

“Traffic’s pretty heavy,” Jeremy said. “Any point to keep going?”

She thought about Bud N’ Mary’s, but it wasn’t likely the girls would have gone to a marina. “I guess not. Let’s head back and ask at motels.”

“Okay.” He made a U-turn at the next intersection and drove back up toward Key Largo.

The northbound traffic was flowing, and a breeze cooled the inside of the car. Robbie started feeling more optimistic, certain that the next person they asked would recognize her sister’s photo.

The roadside motels were mostly mom-and-pop establishments, hidden behind palms and banana plants. They smelled old and musty, like they’d been around for fifty years, which Robbie supposed they had.

They stopped at each one and showed the flyers. No one remembered seeing Kate or Joanne.

Just before they reached the north end of Key Largo, Jeremy pulled into an overgrown driveway on the bay side that led to a motel. There were several freshly painted cottages and flowering plants shaded by live oaks and palm trees. Beyond, they could see the bay lapping up against a small semicircular beach with lounge chairs and umbrellas in the sand.

“I don’t know about your sister and her friend,” Jeremy said, “but this is the kind of place I’d stay at.”

Was it her imagination or was there a hint of suggestiveness in his voice? But Jeremy said nothing more, just continued to the office.

A tall, gray-haired woman in a flowing white muumuu was arranging exotic-looking flowers on a table in the corner of the clean, cheerful room. Robbie explained why they were there and showed her the flyers.

“Sorry. No. I’d remember if they’d checked in.” She handed the flyers back, and cocked her head. “But I have a nice room available for tonight if you two are interested.”

“No thanks,” Robbie said, without meeting Jeremy’s eyes. “We’re just down here for the day.”

They returned to the car. Jeremy sat without turning on the engine. He puffed up his cheeks, then blew out an explosive breath. “What now? There’s nothing farther up ahead.”

This couldn’t be the end of it. There had to be something they
were missing. And then it hit her. “It’s only seven o’clock,” Robbie said. “The girls probably would have gone out later. Do you mind if we go back to one of the bars and hang around until there’s a shift change?”

“Sounds like you have some place in mind.”

“Yeah. The tiki bar. It definitely felt like the kind of place a couple of out-of-town teenage girls would go.”

“Even if it isn’t, I’m about ready for a beer.”

Jeremy started up the car.

The parking lot adjacent to the tiki bar had filled with cars since they’d been there two hours earlier. They went to sit on wooden stools at the bar. The young bartender was still working, but told them his shift was almost over. They both ordered beers and Robbie left him a generous tip.

They drank their beers straight from the bottles. The steel drum music was soft and easy and the breeze felt like a baby’s breath on her cheeks. The tension of the last few hours seeped out of her. They were on the ocean side of the highway, not the bay, and couldn’t see the sun setting on the water, but the sky had turned deep orange with purple streaks. A parasailer floated through the air and it looked as though the sky was on fire behind him. Jeremy stared out toward the water at the rocking boats. There were permanent frown lines in his tanned forehead that she didn’t remember from a year ago. Otherwise, he looked pretty mellow. There was a time when Jeremy had reminded her of a shaken soda bottle on the verge of exploding. A time when finding his parents’ murderer had hardened him.

He gave Robbie an uncertain smile. “What?”

“It’s nice being here with you.”

“Yes, it is.”

She rolled her cold beer bottle between her hands.

“You doing okay?” he asked.

It was what she was about to ask him. She nodded.

He took a pull of his beer. “It’s good you and your dad had a chance to talk things over.”

“Yeah.”

“But?”

“It’s just, sometimes I feel like I’m starting over.” She watched the parasailer float down and land in the water. “Like all those years I thought I was growing up were nothing. Just running in place.”

“My mom used to say every experience—good or bad—makes you a stronger person.”

“You believe that?”

“Yeah. But that doesn’t mean I’m happy about the things I went through that made me stronger. I’d sooner have my parents and still be an irresponsible jerk.”

Robbie placed her hand over his.

He winced and she started to pull away, but he took her hand in his own. “Cold,” he said with a smile. “From your beer.”

“Oh.” Her heart was racing.

“I’m thinking it may not be a great idea to drive back to Miami tonight,” he said. “I don’t want to have to deal with that road and Miami crazos like the guy this afternoon.”

“We shouldn’t drive back,” she said.

The music was louder. Or maybe it was her imagination. She could feel the bass pounding in her chest.

What was she doing? What were they doing? The sky had turned pomegranate red. There was a tension between them, like she remembered as a teenager on a first date.

“Another beer?” a woman’s voice asked.

The female bartender was new, and Robbie was brought back to the reason they’d come back here. “Sure,” Robbie said.

“Me, too,” Jeremy said.

The bartender set two more Coronas on the counter.

“Thanks,” Robbie said. “Do you mind if I ask you something?” She held out the two flyers. “Do you recognize either of these girls? They were in here a week ago Friday.” She didn’t know that for sure, but figured saying it couldn’t hurt.

The bartender, a tired-looking woman, studied the flyers. “Last Friday? My shift, but I don’t recognize them. They look awfully young.”

“They were probably wearing a lot of makeup.”

The bartender shook her head. “Sorry. Friday’s a busy night.” She put the flyers down and went to fix someone else’s drink.

“Who are they?” asked an older man on the stool next to Robbie’s. He looked and smelled like he’d come off one of the fishing boats—stained khaki shorts, faded floral shirt open over an under-shirt, graying wind-swept hair surrounding dark, tough skin.

“Why?” Robbie asked. “Do you recognize them?”

“Depends.”

Sure, Robbie thought. A local wasn’t likely to give out information to strangers.

“This girl’s my sister,” she said.

He looked from Kate’s photo to Robbie, then back again. He took a sip of his drink. She could smell the Scotch. “I saw them.”

Jeremy’s hand tightened over hers.

Robbie took a deep breath. “Do you remember anything? Who they were with? Where they went?”

“This one,” he pointed at Joanne, “she looked like a scared little puppy dog. She sat here holding this pocketbook that was almost as big as she was. Holding it like a giant shield, or something.” He took another sip. “The other girl—your sister—first I thought she was older. Real pretty girl. I got the impression she was the one who wanted to be here.”

“Were they alone?” Robbie could hardly hear her own voice against the music and rising din.

“At first. Then a couple of punks joined them.”

“Do you know them?”

“I’ve seen them here before, but they’re not locals. Too full of themselves. Probably from the mainland. I haven’t seen them since that night, though.”

“Can you describe them?”

“Not really. They looked like punks. One had a shaved head, the other had brown hair and thick eyebrows.” He shrugged. “I’ve seen guys that look like them a million times.”

Jeremy rested his hand on Robbie’s shoulder and leaned around her toward the man. “Did the girls leave with them?”

The man took Jeremy in, seemed to decide he was okay. “I wasn’t paying all that much attention, but yeah, I saw the four of them leave. The girls looked pretty drunk.” He glanced at Robbie, then lowered his eyes. “I don’t imagine they were much used to drinking.” He took another sip from his glass.

“Any idea where they may have gone?” Jeremy asked.

“Beats me. A party, maybe. On weekends, you get a lot of the rich mainlanders coming down to their big, fancy houses. A lot of them live over by the bay. They think they own the place, driving around in their black limos and little sports cars.” He signaled to the bartender for another drink.

Jeremy left some money on the bar and gave Robbie a tug. “Thanks for your help,” he said to the man.

“Yes. Thanks so much,” Robbie said. “I wonder, would you mind giving me your name and number?”

“I’d rather not.” The man looked down at his drink.

“I understand, but here’s mine.” Robbie handed the man a flyer with her phone number. “If you happen to see those guys, would you give me a call?”

“Sure.”

Jeremy was walking toward the parking lot. She wondered why he was in such a hurry to leave.

Robbie slid off the stool.

“I have a daughter,” the man said, looking down at the flyer. There was an edge of melancholy in his voice. “I hope you find your sister.”

Headlights on the cars coming from Miami brightened the interior of the Corvair every few seconds. Robbie watched Jeremy hunch forward over the steering wheel, his head turning to follow each one.

They were parked outside a deserted strip mall a ways north of the tiki bar. Turquoise awnings announced local gifts, souvenirs, shells. It was dark and quiet with no pedestrians and only the constant stream of cars filing by.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?” Robbie asked.

“I’m looking for black cars,” Jeremy said.

A car whished by.

“Well, you just missed one.”

“That was an old Corolla. Totally wrong. It needs to be something fancier—like a Town Car or sports car. Tinted windows would help.”

Robbie thought for a second. “You’re looking for cars from the mainland heading to a house party? But the guy at the bar said the parties were on weekends, not Monday night.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky. Remember the asshole who passed us on U.S. 1? Black car, tinted windows?”

“Yeah, but honestly, isn’t that a bit of a long shot?”

“All we have right now are long shots.”