Someone's Watching (36 page)

How could he say it with such a straight face? If anything, he looked confused, not guilty. And then his expression darkened. “Four people?”

Was it possible he wasn’t the murderer? That he didn’t know what was happening?

“Tell me,” he said. “Who’s dead?”

“You really don’t know?”

“Tell me.”

“Brett, Tyra, Mike, some guy who works for Mike.”

“Who are these people?”

She stared back at his baffled face.

“Tell me,” he said again. “Who are these people?”

“The blackmailers. The ones who made the video.”

“And they’re dead? You say they’re dead?”

He didn’t know. He couldn’t be faking the panic in his face, the rapid breathing. “But Angel—is she okay?”

“Yes.”

“Dear God.” He held his hand against his head. “I should have seen it coming. It was all there, right from the beginning.”

“What was? What are you talking about?”

“They’re all dead, you say? The blackmailers?”

“That’s right.”

“My sweet rose girl. You need to run and hide. You and your angel sister. Quickly. Where they can’t find you.”

“Who? Do you know who the murderer is?”

“Oh, God,” he said. The moon broke through the clouds, brightening his face with a greenish hue. “I must go. I must go.”

And he started to run, tripping over his own feet, then picking up speed.

“Wait,” Robbie called after him. “Tell me who it is.”

But he was already racing along the walkway, faster, faster.

The clouds massed over the moon, sucking up the light like quicksand.

Robbie could no longer see him, or anyone else. She sat back down on the gear locker, the blonde wig and the DVD lying beside her with the wad of money Puck had given her. Her eyes hurt, a throbbing that came from the back of her head. She popped out the gray contacts and blinked in the fresh moist air, but the pain didn’t go away.

If Puck wasn’t the murderer, who was? And why had he run off like that?

Run and hide
, he’d said.
Where they can’t find you
.

They sounded like the ravings of a crazed man.

But who was she running from? No one had a reason to kill Robbie.

It’s you. My rose girl. You were behind it. What made you do such a thing?

What did Puck mean by that? And then her breath snagged. Puck thought she had set him up to go to BURN Sunday night. He believed she was one of the blackmailers. That’s why he told her to run. Because whoever was targeting the blackmailers would also try to kill Robbie. And Puck seemed to know who it was.

An engine started up somewhere in the distance. A boat slid across the black surface of the bay, sending out hundreds of ripples across the water. The ripples grew larger and larger.

Then I’m getting out of here. Me and
Aimless.
Just the two of us
.
You were right about that, Robbie. I don’t know why I was so afraid to let go of her
.

There was a crushing weight in her chest as recognition hit.

Puck had told Robbie he had been trapped in a marriage he regretted. That his wife was holding something over him. It made sense now. Gina Fieldstone was the force behind Stanford’s career. An ambitious monster, he’d called her. So he wasn’t lying. Gina was the one who wanted him to succeed. The one who cared about her future being destroyed if those videos came out.

Gina Fieldstone.

Once again, Robbie had misread someone she had trusted. She tried to push aside her feelings of anger and deception as she reviewed the telltale signs that had always been there. Gina and Aidan had a black car with tinted windows. Gina must have told Aidan to watch Robbie from the first day that Puck walked into The Garage. Puck had shown an interest in Robbie, and that made her a threat to Stanford Fieldstone’s political future. Had the slashed bicycle tires been a warning from Gina? When Gina met Robbie for coffee and encouraged her to go around to clubs looking for Kate, it was probably to keep Robbie from working at The Garage while Puck was in town. Then Gina’s promises of help and getting her husband involved in finding Kate had all been fake, a way of getting Robbie to trust her.

Shit, shit, shit. Where was Gina now? Had she followed Robbie here thinking she was Angel? Robbie picked up the wig in a panic. Put it on, she was Angel. Leave it off, she was Robbie. Either way, she was a target.

But where the heck was Gina Fieldstone?

Robbie got up and walked quickly to her car in the parking garage. Shadows shifted all around her. Her high heels resounded from the concrete ceiling and walls like a cap gun. She was remembering a black car with tinted windows riding behind her bicycle one night when she left The Garage. Had Aidan or Gina been following
her? Then Gina would know where Robbie lived. And the man Gabriele saw standing outside Robbie’s apartment could have been Aidan. Had he been in Robbie’s apartment waiting to kill her after Puck had been blackmailed?

Quicker, Robbie thought. Quicker. Get to the car.

It was just beyond the column. She ran the last few feet, slid into the driver’s seat, locked the door and turned on the engine. She tried to catch her breath.

She had to call Kate and tell her what was happening.

But Kate didn’t have a phone.

And Kate was at Robbie’s apartment.

And Kate looked a lot like Robbie.

Where was Gina Fieldstone?

Oh, God. Oh, dear God.

Kate!

Marylou Madison left the bayfront apartment she had rented a couple of weeks ago. It had been a perfect place from which to observe him coming and going, though her view was limited once he was off the boat. But then, it had simply been a matter of following him.

She glanced in the rearview mirror. She could see the distant pink and blue lights from the balcony beneath her apartment as her car sped forward.

His boat was long gone by now. She wasn’t really surprised. He was scared and maybe a little overwhelmed—afraid of being caught in the spotlight.

After he’d told her about the message from the blackmailers, he had remained on his boat, not taking her calls, sulking like a little boy. But he would get over it. He always did. He understood that she knew what was best for them.

And then a short while ago, he had left the boat. She wondered where he was going. It couldn’t be to that bar. They both knew Robbie wasn’t there tonight.

But then, Marylou saw him racing back along the dock as though chased by a pack of dogs. He had jumped back on the boat. She heard the engine start up and the boat pulled out of its slip.

But he would be back. He always came back to her.

She flicked on the little light over the mirror. She could see herself clearly. The sheer silk scarf that covered her head and was flung
casually over her shoulders had been her mother’s. This was how her mother had worn it in a photo, smiling and waving from a convertible car.

It was all Marylou had of her mother—the scarf, the cardigan, and the little lace handkerchief. The photos were all in her head, but Marylou could see them as though they were right in front of her. A beautiful young woman who had given up a life of glamour and fame to become the wife of a drunken pervert in the middle of nowhere.

Marylou had taken the scarf, cardigan, and handkerchief the night her mother had beaten her and thrown her out.

She was only fifteen, but she felt so ashamed. And Marylou had never gone back.

Why should she? She had everything she needed—her mother’s things and her mother’s dreams.

She realized she was squeezing the lace handkerchief. Her mother was dead. Marylou had spent most of her life trying to make it up to her. She had so longed to see her mother’s face one more time, to hear her say how proud she was of her daughter. Her daughter who had become everything she had always dreamed of herself.

Marylou gave the handkerchief a gentle shake and studied the hand-embroidered initials—GT. For her mother’s maiden name. Gina Tyler—now her own.

“I’m proud of you,” she said to the mirror.

And her mother smiled back.

The plastic handcuffs resembled electrical cable ties and cut into his wrists. Beyond the screened porch, a car drove by, lighting up the street.

“Listen to me,” Jeremy said. “Robbie’s in trouble.”

Jeremy’s grandfather rested his wrinkled hand on Lieber’s arm. He didn’t speak, just met her eyes with his and held them for a few seconds. Geezer whimpered softly in the corner of the porch.

“Okay,” Lieber said, looking away. “Go ahead, Jeremy. Talk. But talk quickly.”

“You have to call the detective in Key Largo. Have him listen to the message on my cell phone. It’s from Robbie. She’s expecting us to be there.”

“Where? Key Largo?”

“I don’t know where. Please. Just listen to the message.”

Lieber seemed about to protest, then she closed her mouth and hit some buttons on her phone. “It’s Lieber,” she said. “Can you listen to the voice mail on Stroeb’s phone?” She turned to Jeremy. “What’s your password?”

A lump formed in his throat. “Momdad.”

“What?” Lieber said.

“mmdd—6633.”

She nodded and repeated it into her phone. Her eyes grew wider, her mouth tighter as she listened. “Got it,” she said. “Thanks.”

She closed her phone. “It was from Robbie. She said to meet her at the Miami Beach Marina. Someone named Puck has a boat there called
Aimless
. What’s going on, Jeremy? Who’s Puck?”

Jeremy tried to pull off the handcuffs. They cut deeper into his wrists. “Did Robbie say anything else?”

“Yes. She said to tell me to go there with you.”

“Please. Let’s go. You have to call for backup. Robbie’s going to confront him herself. She doesn’t know I didn’t get the message. She’ll assume we’re there, backing her up, watching her.”

“Confront who? Who’s Puck?”

“Dammit. Please. We have to go. Now. Puck is Stanford Fieldstone.”

“Stanford Fieldstone? What are you talking about?”

“Fieldstone’s the killer.”

Kate sank down into the sofa pillows. The cat curled up against her.

“Pretty kitty,” she said. “I don’t even know your name.”

She massaged the cat’s head. The cat closed her eyes and purred.

That’s what Kate wanted to do. But she was too edgy. So many days hiding, frightened, making believe she was someone else. Not sure what to do. Run away? Stay? And here she was. She still couldn’t believe it. She imagined at any minute one of them would burst through the door and drag her back. Back to hell.

The cat purred. But she wasn’t in hell. She was safe here. Safe in the womb of her sister’s apartment.

Her sister was probably with Puck now. Robbie was certain he was the murderer, but Kate couldn’t match that up with the man who had been so kind to her. So gentle. He had made love to her and it had been good and sweet. The way she had thought it was going to be before all the dirtiness started. How could that same man be a murderer? She didn’t believe it.

But then, her father had once been good and sweet, hadn’t he? And he had turned into someone she hardly knew.

She looked at one of the necklaces Robbie was making. Just like an Indian princess in her father’s stories would wear.

Did he really love her like Robbie said?

She felt the softness of a feather. She was remembering. A necklace with beads and feathers.
For my Indian princess
, he’d said, putting
it around Kate’s neck. There was sadness in his voice. And Kate had hugged him.
You’re my Indian princess, now
, he had said.
You’ll always be my princess
.

He’d been thinking about Robbie. It had always been there. She had taken his frown for coldness, but that wasn’t it at all. It was loss. Loss and love.

Kate laid the necklace against her neck.

Her sister had made it. Her sister Robbie. Kate had a sister.

And Kate’s head swam as she looked around the room. At the mismatched bookcases overflowing with books, the tables covered with beads and feathers. Her sister’s things.

Why had Kate let Robbie go off by herself? What if Puck really was a murderer? She should have stopped her.

If only Kate had a phone.

She chewed on her finger. She wished her father was here. Had he gotten Robbie’s message? Had he returned Robbie’s call?

There was a knock on her door.

Thank God. She’s back. Kate got up and hurried across the hardwood floor to open it.

But when she got to the door, she stopped.

Robbie would use her key, wouldn’t she?

Jeremy sat with his hands in his lap. He could see the red outline from where the handcuffs had cut into his wrists before Lieber had clipped them off.

She was driving very quickly through the near-empty streets.

After Jeremy had explained about the blackmail scheme, Kate identifying Fieldstone, and Robbie’s plan to entrap him, Lieber had radioed the station. She told them to get down to Fieldstone’s boat and arrest him.

Where was Robbie? She wouldn’t have done something stupid, would she?

They crossed the Julia Tuttle Causeway. The bridge rose before them and for a moment, all he could see ahead was pitch black sky. Then the car crested, and against the darkness, the Miami Beach skyline came into view. Thousands of tiny lights, like fireflies on a summer night.

Lieber’s phone rang. “Lieber,” she said. A pause. “What?” Silence, except for her deep breathing. “Well, call the Coast Guard, damn it.”

Jeremy tensed against the passenger seat. What the heck was going on? Coast Guard? Had Fieldstone taken his boat out?

“Jesus,” Lieber said.

“What’s wrong?”

“Fieldstone’s gone. His boat’s gone.”

“What about Robbie? Is she on the dock? Is she waiting for us?”

Lieber gave him a quick glance. “Robbie?”

“Yes. Robbie. She was going to wait for us before she approached Fieldstone. Where is she?”