Someone's Watching (24 page)

The sound of muffled voices raised in anger came through the wall of the adjacent apartment.
Get the hell out of here
, a woman shouted.
Just get the hell out
.

“What happened with Lieber?” Robbie asked.

“I think this is very tough for her.”

“What do you mean?”

“She doesn’t want to believe I did it, but a lot of things point to me. I’m guessing if Lieber hadn’t known me personally, she would have locked me up.”

The neighbor woman’s voice broke through the silence.
How could you?
She sounded like she was crying. Then a door slammed.

“But Lieber’s not the only one involved in this,” Jeremy continued. “Once the DA has enough evidence, she’ll have no choice but to arrest me.”

“Then we have to figure out who killed Brett and why.”

“Sure. Detectives from Miami Beach and the Keys are all over this, but a bartender and a personal trainer should have no trouble cracking the case.”

Robbie waved him off. A fresh thought had occurred to her. “Did Lieber say how Brett died?”

“Well, she asked me if I owned a knife.”

A knife. Robbie felt chilled. Was that how Brett had died?

“I’m guessing they haven’t found the murder weapon,” Jeremy said. “Or if they did, it doesn’t have my prints on it, or they would have already locked me up.” He glanced at the trace of ink on his fingers.

A knife. Robbie tried not to think about it. “Well, there were a lot of people there. A lot of cars.”

“But a knife is associated with crimes of passion. And lots of people had seen me and Brett fighting.”

“Right. But we know you didn’t kill him.”

Robbie looked at the arrangement of mirrors on the wall. “Don’t you get the feeling there’s more going on here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Kate and Joanne are down in Key Largo, Mike has a big party at his house, Brett dies. It’s got to be more than a coincidence.”

“And what about the congressman who committed suicide? The one who was at BURN Friday night? That’s like Mike’s major hangout.”

“I don’t know about the congressman, but if we could connect Kate to Mike or his house, I think we’d be onto something.” And then Robbie remembered. She reached for her satchel.

“What?” Jeremy said.

“This.” Robbie pulled out the white sandal. “I found it in the bushes near Mike’s house.”

“So? It could belong to anyone.”

“It could, but most people leave with both their shoes,” she said. “Unless they’re not able to for some reason.”

They stared at the shiny white sandal with its clear Lucite heel. “Also,” Robbie said, “Look at the label. Lela Rose for Payless.”

“And that means what exactly?”

“The women who were at the party don’t shop at Payless. This is the kind of sandal a teenager would wear. Especially one from a small town like Deland.”

Jeremy picked up the sandal and studied it. “It doesn’t look like it’s from last night. There’s soil and water spots on it, like it was sprayed by a water sprinkler. But it doesn’t look very weathered either. I don’t think it’s been outside for more than a week or so.” He frowned. “Do you think your father would know if it’s Kate’s?”

“I don’t know.” Or was she afraid of taking her father along on some wild-goose chase?

“What about her friends?”

“They’re all back in Deland. Besides, I don’t know their names or how to contact them without going through Lieber or my dad.”

Jeremy turned the sandal around in his hand. “Cinderella’s slipper. Looks like it would fit you.”

“Wait a minute.” She dug through her satchel for her cell phone, then took the shoe from Jeremy. She placed it on the rug and snapped
a picture. “I’m going to post this on Facebook. Joanne’s friends set up a group to celebrate Joanne’s life. Maybe someone will recognize it. If we can show that Kate was very likely at Mike’s house last Friday, that means—shit. What does it mean? That Mike is somehow connected to Joanne’s and Brett’s deaths and Kate’s disappearance?”

Jeremy had gone over to the breakfast bar and gotten his laptop. He set it down on the carpet and logged on. “Just post it. If someone recognizes the shoe as Kate’s, it gives us a lot more to go on.”

Robbie uploaded the photo to her Facebook account, sent it to the “Remember Joanne Group,” then wrote a message.

Hi. I’m Kate’s sister. Please let me know if you think this sandal belonged to Kate or Joanne. It may help us find Kate and figure out what happened to Joanne
.

“Wait,” Jeremy said. “Don’t say sister. They don’t know Kate has a sister. Just say you’re a relative and you’re helping her dad find Kate.”

“Good idea.” Robbie made the change and sent it, then clicked through the other comments sent to Joanne. Since she’d looked the day before, there were dozens and dozens of new entries. She scrolled through them, saddened by the anguish Joanne’s friends expressed over her death.

And then she saw an entry and her breath caught.

“What’s wrong?” Jeremy said.

She could only point. “She, she’s—”

“What?”

“She’s alive.”

“Who? Joanne?”

“No. Look.” She touched the picture on the screen. The picture of an arrowhead tattoo. “My sister. She’s alive.”

Jeremy leaned over and read the entry aloud.

It’s my fault you’re in heaven. But remember, Joanne. You were always better than an angel
.

“Shit,” Jeremy said. “So Kate was involved with Joanne’s death?”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Robbie said. “If she was, why would she announce it here, so publicly? And why would she write this and not come out of hiding?”

Jeremy leaned back on the rug, resting on his elbows. His brows were knit, the gaze from his uninjured eye so intense it made up for the closed, swollen one. “We don’t know for sure Kate wrote that.”

“It had to be, unless someone got into her Facebook account using her password.”

“Which means any one of her friends could have written it,” Jeremy said. “Kids all know each other’s passwords.”

“But why would a friend do something so damaging to Kate?”

Jeremy reread the entry. “Someone could have forced the password out of Kate, then posted this to make it look like Kate had something to do with Joanne’s death.” He sat forward and massaged the back of his neck. “Or to make it look like Kate’s still alive.”

“She is alive,” Robbie said.

“Oh yeah?”

“There’s something about the message that doesn’t sound like someone else wrote it. It’s too . . . too specific.
You were always better than an angel
. It’s like some secret the two of them shared. And we know that Kate’s into cryptic messages. Like her last one to Joanne about leaving broken and returning fixed.”

“All right, so assuming Kate wrote it, what’s the next step? Calling Lieber? Your father?”

“First, I’m going to send Kate a message. And this time I’m not going to be evasive.”

Jeremy looked over Robbie’s shoulder as she typed.

Dear Kate:

I wrote to you a few days ago, but I didn’t tell you the whole story. I’m your half sister—Robbie Ivy. My mom and I moved away from Deland when I was seven. I’m twenty-five and I live on South Beach. I didn’t know you existed either until our father came here looking for you. We’re both very worried. I saw your picture. I looked a lot like you when I was your age. Please get in touch with me. I want so much to know you
.

Love,
Robbie

“It’s good,” Jeremy said.

She sent the message.

Jeremy’s fingers were folded over his bruised knuckles. “I think you should tell Lieber.”

Robbie got up and stood by the sliding window. The bay was choppy. She could see the whitecaps of waves, clouds coalescing above the Miami skyline. On the balcony, the small wicker table and two chairs where she and Jeremy used to sit most evenings were covered with a layer of grit, as though no one went there anymore.

“Robbie. I said you should tell Lieber.”

“Tell her what? That my sister may have admitted to killing her best friend?”

“We don’t know that’s what she meant.”

“But that was our first interpretation. What do you think Lieber
will make of it? That not only are you a possible murderer, but so’s my sister. I’d rather wait to hear from Kate. Find out what she meant. Where she is.”

“I don’t agree, Robbie. This may help the investigation.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“And your father? Are you going to tell him?”

Robbie didn’t answer. The clouds had darkened and a gauzy curtain of rain blurred the buildings of the downtown skyline. But on either side the sky was a brilliant blue. “My father,” Robbie said. “I guess I’d better.”

Robbie waited for her father at a bench overlooking Government Cut. The rain clouds had drifted south, but had left a residual coolness. Behind her was the newly constructed South Pointe Park with a man-made hill that attracted skateboarders of every age. The sound of wheels rolling over concrete competed with the squawking of seagulls that hovered over the wide inlet that opened to the ocean.

There’d been a park a few blocks away from the high-rise where Robbie grew up. Sometimes she sat there and watched the other kids play. The skateboarders would set up jumps for themselves and go flying into the air. Robbie always wanted to try it herself. One day, one of the kids offered her the skateboard to try. She thought about her mom back in their apartment vomiting from the chemo, said no, and left. She never went back to the park.

She slumped down against the bench. Her head ached and she felt an uncomfortable fullness in her stomach, although she hadn’t eaten or drunk anything all day. Not even the coffee Lieber had offered her at the station this morning.

She reached into her bag and took a mint out of a small tin box, just like one her mom had when Robbie was a little girl. Sometimes peppermints made her feel better.

She thought about Brett with sadness. Someone had killed him. But it hadn’t been Jeremy. She was certain of that. Then who? And could his murder tie to her sister’s disappearance?

She rolled back the last few days she’d been with Brett. When had he started acting strangely? There was last Friday night at BURN when Brett had the confrontation with Jeremy. That was also the night the congressman was seen leaving with two women, who Lieber thought may have had some connection to the congressman’s suicide. Then, Brett had been so angry with Jeremy for telling Lieber he’d been at BURN Friday night that he went to Jeremy’s gym and got into a fight with him. Two fights between Jeremy and Brett in Miami, then the one at Mike’s house made three. Robbie had assumed they were about her. But Brett was also upset that Jeremy had connected Brett with BURN and the congressman. And something else?

There was the phone call Brett got late Sunday morning while Robbie was breaking up with him. If their relationship was so important, what could the call have been about to make Brett just get up and leave in the middle?

All those phone calls and plan cancellations. Things hadn’t been that way when Robbie and Brett first started dating. And in retrospect, she realized how sketchy things had become. Something at the PR firm where Brett worked must have been affecting him. And his job was connected to Mike, who owned the house in Key Largo, the town where Kate and Joanne’s car had been. Where Brett had been killed.

So who killed him? Obviously someone at the party Monday night. One of Mike’s PR clients? Someone else working for Mike? Someone who hated Mike? Could it have been drug-related?

And had whoever killed Brett also killed Joanne and done something to Kate? But that was too far-fetched. Robbie only knew that Kate and Joanne had most likely gone to a party in Key Largo, but
she had no way of knowing if they actually had and if there was any connection to Mike’s house. And besides, why would the same person who killed Brett have an interest in a couple of high school girls?

And then there was Kate’s post on Joanne’s group’s page, which made absolutely no sense.

Too many pieces were missing. Maybe Lieber had some of them. Was Jeremy right? Should Robbie tell her about Kate’s message and take the chance of implicating her sister?

“You look tired, Roberta.” Her father stood beside the bench. He was in wrinkled shorts and a golf shirt he’d worn a few days ago. He had shaved, but the breeze blew his gray hair in all directions. It had been only two days since she’d seen him, but it felt like much longer.

“I’m okay.” She got up and gave him a hug. There were puffy bags under his eyes. She wondered how he spent his time. Wandering the streets looking for Kate? “How are you doing?” she asked.

He gave her a weak smile. “I’m okay, too.” They sat down on the bench and he took her hand. He wore his wedding band. She wore the emerald ring he’d given her mother.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot since we talked on Sunday,” he said. “I’m very angry that I caused you so much pain.” He shook his head. “How could I not have realized it?”

“Well, we’re back in each other’s lives and that’s what matters.”

“I’m glad you called today. I wanted to see you again, but I didn’t want to rush you.”

Behind them came the loud scraping thud of a skateboarder hitting the concrete after a jump.

“I need to talk to you about something I found,” Robbie said.

“About Kaitlin?” The tension transferred from his hand to hers.

“Yes. About Kaitlin.” How could she phrase this without alarming
him? “Remember how I showed you that people send each other messages on Facebook?”

He was squeezing her hand so hard, her mother’s ring dug painfully inside her fingers, but she doubted he was aware of it.

“Someone posted one to Joanne using Kate’s Facebook account. I think it’s from Kate, but I can’t be absolutely certain. Someone who knew her password could have logged in as her. But I think—”

“What…what did she write?”

This was the tough part. “Well, she sort of apologized to Joanne, then she wrote something about Joanne being an angel.”