Someone's Watching (34 page)

Robbie left the engine running and turned to face Kate. Old-car smells enveloped them.

“Talk to me. Please.”

“I’ve never told anyone.”

“I’m your sister.”

Kate’s entwined fingers rested on the faded, paint-splattered jeans Robbie had given her.

“Please, Kate. Start at the beginning, if that’s easier.”

Kate squeezed her hands tighter. “When I was a little girl, he didn’t talk to me much. Sometimes, he’d tell me bedtime stories, but that was about all. I didn’t think anything was wrong with that. I had my mom. And she always said he was busy. He had important work and I shouldn’t bother him.”

Robbie looked out toward the bay. She remembered her childhood house on the St. Johns River, Spanish moss hanging from towering oak trees. Her dad returning home from the hospital after a late night emergency call, standing on the flagstone patio that smelled like magnolias, staring at nothing. Then later that night, how Robbie had overheard him talking to her mother.
There’s nothing I can do
, he told her.
Absolutely nothing
.

Had he been talking about his patient as she’d always believed, or his dying relationship with Robbie’s mother?

“But when I got older,” Kate said. “I realized something was messed up. I’d see my friends’ parents and they were always doing stuff together.”

“But not your mom and dad?”

“Dad was always busy. He’d stay in his office late, or go to the hospital. And my mom. She drank a lot. And I knew she had a problem, but I didn’t know what to do.”

Robbie ached for her sister. She’d had no one to turn to. Neither had Robbie.

“Then one day, my mom had a bad episode,” Kate said. “I came home from school and found her lying in the shower. First, I thought she was dead. I called my dad and he came home and we got her into bed. And I knew my mom was sick. That she needed help. I screamed
at my father and I told him to do something. And he got very angry at me.”

“Angry? What did he do?”

“He didn’t yell or anything. He just gave me this really cold look. Like he didn’t want to have anything more to do with me.”

Just like the look he’d given Robbie the other day when he disagreed with what she was saying. “Then what happened?”

Kate wiped her eyes. “A few days later, my mom died in a car accident. I was twelve. Dad never talked to me again.”

“He never talked to you again?” Robbie asked. “I don’t understand. He told me you two did lots of things together. That you made him dinner and you’d go shopping. Sometimes you even ate out at restaurants. And he told me you talked about things. School, and—”

“Not that kind of talking. Don’t you understand? We spoke, but he never talked to me.”

“I’m not following.”

“He lectured. But not like he was my dad. More like he was a doctor instructing one of his patients. What I could and couldn’t do. Never drink or I’d end up an alcoholic, never have sex until I was married or I’d end up with a terrible disease or worse.”

“But he couldn’t have been that protective,” Robbie said. “He let you go away for spring break.”

“Oh, my God. Do you know what I had to do to get him to say yes? Joanne’s father practically had to get down on his knees and beg Dad to let me go.” She bit down on her lip. “Don’t you see, how can I ever face him again? He’ll blame me for everything. If I had listened to him, none of this would have happened.” She began sobbing hard. “And he’s right. If I’d listened to him, Joanne would still be alive.”

“Oh, Kate.” Robbie reached across the console to hold her. “You can’t do this to yourself.”

“He’s right to hate me. It was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault and he doesn’t hate you.” Robbie slid her
fingers through Kate’s hair. The texture so like her own. “He loves you.”

Kate pulled back. Tears clung to her long dark lashes. “How can you say that? If he loved me, why didn’t he show me?”

Why didn’t he try to find me?

“Maybe he doesn’t know how,” Robbie said. “Or maybe he’s so filled with guilt over the things he messed up that he doesn’t know how to make them right.”

“What do you mean?”

“He should have helped your mother,” Robbie said. “Or maybe he tried and failed and couldn’t acknowledge his failure. But that’s his weakness. Our dad has a hard time taking responsibility for things.”

Had her father’s guilt over cheating on Robbie’s mother kept him from a relationship with Robbie?

“But why would he act like he hated me?” Kate asked.

“Maybe he felt he didn’t deserve you.”

And suddenly Robbie got it. All those years that he’d stayed away from her. He was punishing himself.

Kate’s head was tilted as though she was weighing what Robbie had said. Her straight black hair formed a perfect razor’s edge against her shoulder. “Punishing himself for letting my mother die?”

“That’s right.”

“So he doesn’t hate me?”

“No, Kate. He loves you.”

“He loves me,” Kate repeated, as though not fully convinced. She touched one of Robbie’s feathered earrings. “You know, when I was a little girl, he would tell me stories about an Indian princess who wore beads and feathers.”

Robbie got goose bumps up and down her arms.

“I loved those stories so much,” Kate said. “In one of them, the princess found an arrowhead. I guess that’s why I got a tattoo of an
arrowhead. I always hoped Dad would love me again, like when I was a little girl and he called me his Indian princess.”

You’re my little Pocahontas
, he used to say.

“Is it okay if I call him now?” Robbie asked.

Kate nodded.

Her father’s phone rang once and went to voice mail, as though he’d turned it off or the battery was dead. “It’s Robbie,” she said to the tape. “Kate’s okay. She’s with me. Call me.”

Kate’s face fell. “He’s not answering?”

Robbie shook her head. “But at least when he checks his voice mail, he’ll know you’re okay. But now I’ve got to do something to help Jeremy.”

Kate nodded.

Robbie left her phone on the console as she drove. Kate’s hand hovered near it, as though to grab it when it rang. But it didn’t.

Their father. Where was he? And why hadn’t he answered his phone?

When they got to her apartment, Robbie went straight into the kitchen, leaving Kate standing in the living room. But Robbie didn’t have time to help her sister get settled in. Where had she put that napkin?

She opened a kitchen drawer and rummaged through bills to be paid, pencils, rubber bands. She found it between two take-out food menus. A square cocktail napkin with a picture of a rose and a phone number.

“What’s that?” Kate asked from the doorway. She was holding Matilda in her arms. The cat purred loudly.

“The phone number of the man you were with Sunday night. Stanford Fieldstone.”

Kate’s eyes widened. “You have his phone number?”

“He used to come into the bar where I work.”

“So you knew him, too.”

There was something in Kate’s voice that Robbie couldn’t make out. It almost sounded defensive. But Robbie didn’t have time to analyze. She studied her sister. The resemblance was uncanny. And with a wig, makeup and— “Do you still have the gray contact lenses?” Robbie asked.

Kate nodded slowly. “I was going to throw them away, but Elise thought the police might want them for something. Why?”

“I’ll explain in a minute.” Robbie brushed past Kate on the way to the front door. There was a static shock as they briefly touched. “I’ll be right back.”

Darkness had settled over the courtyard and pool, and palm fronds from the tall royals hung motionless in the thick night air. It was a little after midnight. She hoped he was still home.

She knocked on the door to Gabriele’s apartment.

“Just a minute,” called a singsong voice.

The door opened. Gabriele was wigless and bald, and for an instant, Robbie flashed on her mom looking at herself in the mirror while she was going through chemo. The fear in her eyes.

“Why it’s Robbie!” Gabriele said. He was in full makeup and wearing a sequined bustier and ballet skirt. His dark smooth skin glowed in the dim light. The vision of her mother faded.

Gabriele kissed her cheeks. “Sorry for my surprise. I was expecting Oscar. We’re terribly late for an event at LIV.” He frowned. “Everything’s all right, isn’t it?”

“I need to borrow something.”

“Of course.” He fluttered his long fake lashes. “I always have a cup of sugar for my dear Robbie.”

“Your platinum blonde wig. The one with bangs, shoulder-length straight hair. And I’m in a hurry. I’ll explain tomorrow.”

Gabriele straightened up and lost the cutesy. “I’ll be right back.”

He returned in less than a minute and handed it to her. “Don’t worry about returning it. Oscar prefers me as a redhead.” He gave Robbie a peck on the cheek.

“And can I borrow your cell for a minute? I don’t want my name to come up on caller ID.”

Gabriele pursed his lips. “What mischief are you up to?”

“Please?”

He reached into his bustier and handed her his thin phone.

It was warm and smelled like floral perfume. “Thanks. I’ll bring it right back.”

Gabriele leaned against his open door, long, muscular arms folded across his chest. He shook his head as she hurried along the catwalk back to her apartment.

Robbie found Kate in the living room examining one of Robbie’s half-finished necklaces. Kate looked up. “Did he call?”

Kate was waiting for their father. “No. Not yet,” Robbie said. “I need you to do something.”

Kate scowled at the wig Robbie was holding.

“I’m going to dial Fieldstone’s number, but I want you to talk to him. I’m hoping he recognizes your voice.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I want you to arrange a meeting with him.”

Kate glanced at the phone, then went to stand at the living room window. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Please, Kate. I won’t do anything dangerous or stupid.”

Kate continued looking outside as she pulled on a strand of hair. What was upsetting her?

“You’re setting him up for the police,” Kate said.

“That’s right.”

“And they’ll arrest him.”

“Yes.”

Robbie couldn’t see Kate’s face.

“But what if he isn’t the murderer?” Kate said.

Robbie went over to the window and stood next to her sister. She spoke softly. “What if he is?”

Kate released her hair and let her hand drop to her side. “What do you want me to tell him?”

“Thank you,” Robbie said. She told Kate what to say and punched the number Puck had written on the napkin into the cell phone.

A sleepy voice answered. “Yeah?”

Robbie held out the phone to Kate.

Kate hesitated for a moment, then took it. “Hi,” Kate said, her voice trembling. “I’m not sure you remember me, but I’m the girl who was at BURN on Sunday night.”

Robbie watched Kate’s face, unable to hear Puck’s side of the conversation. Kate sucked in her lower lip. She looked like she was going to cry. “I’m fine,” she said. “That’s not why I’m calling.” She took a deep breath. “I have the DVD. The one you want. If I give it to you, do you promise not to hurt me?”

Puck didn’t appear to answer. Kate pointed at the phone and shook her head. Then Robbie heard a voice coming through.

“I can bring it to your boat,” Kate said, like Robbie had told her to.

There was another moment of silence, then Puck said something.

Kate held the phone to her mouth, as though she wanted to say something else. Then either Puck hung up, or Kate changed her mind. She closed the phone and handed it back to Robbie.

“Thank you, Kate. You did great.”

Kate bit down on her lip.

“I’m just going to give the phone back to Gabriele, then I’ll be right back.”

When Robbie returned, Kate was holding the blonde wig behind her back. She reminded Robbie of a child who hides her mother’s shoes, hoping that will keep her from leaving.

“Don’t go,” Kate said.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to be alone with him. The cops will be surrounding the boat. I’ve set it up with Jeremy.” Robbie held out her hand for the wig.

“I wish you wouldn’t do this.” Kate’s eyes filled with tears.

“Silly Kate. You’re acting like I’m not coming back. I’ll be fine. And once Fieldstone’s arrested, we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other.”

Robbie dressed quickly in a short black dress and heels, then put on the blonde wig and gray contacts that Kate gave her. She applied a lot of makeup and lip liner to make her mouth look fuller. The image in the mirror was startling. It was the girl Robbie had seen at BURN last Friday night. How empty the eyes looked. Empty and hopeless. Robbie had come so close to finding her sister that night. Friday. Before the murders.

She could see Kate watching her in the mirror, but Kate didn’t say a word. She was tugging at a long strand of beads.

Robbie found an unlabeled DVD among her collection. She wrote some numbers on it, then slipped it into her satchel.

Kate followed her through the living room. Matilda took a few running steps after them, stopped, and meowed.

“Okay,” Robbie said at the door. “I’ll call you to let you know what’s happening.”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“That’s right.” Robbie took in a deep breath. “Well, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Kate’s mouth sagged. She seemed unwilling to look Robbie in the eye.

“I thought she was gone,” Kate said without raising her head. “I thought Angel was gone forever.”

“She is, Kate. Angel is gone forever.”

Robbie climbed into Jeremy’s grandfather’s car and sat in front of her apartment building without starting the engine. She could still get out of this. She hadn’t admitted to Kate how scared she was. She remembered a year ago, going off to the deserted file room by herself. She had almost died that night.

But if she didn’t set up Puck like this, would the cops have enough proof to connect him to the murders? They’d have Kate’s testimony, but Robbie knew what a good lawyer could do with that. “Hadn’t you been under the influence of drugs and alcohol, Ms. Brooks? How can you be sure this was the man you saw that night?” And even if they tied Puck to the blackmailers, would they also be able to prove that he had murdered in an attempt to eliminate evidence of his involvement? Especially when the murders pointed so convincingly to Jeremy?