Someone's Watching (35 page)

Puck was a far more complex and calculating person than Robbie had imagined. She had no doubt now that he would be able to put off the police with his charisma and golden tongue. He was, after all, Stanford Fieldstone—the great crusader. And who was Jeremy Stroeb? A twenty-something kid scarred by the murders of his own parents, easily brought to anger. A loose cannon.

Loose cannon or great crusader? Whom would the DA prefer to prosecute?

Robbie took her cell phone from her satchel and dialed Jeremy’s number. It rang and rang and rang. Robbie was so sure he’d answer that when the voice mail came on she was tongue-tied and didn’t leave a message.

He must be in the middle of something with Lieber, Robbie reasoned. He knows I’m calling, so he’ll be checking for voice mails.

She redialed his number and once again it went to voice mail. This time she left a message.

“I’m going to Puck’s boat. It’s in the Miami Beach Marina.” She gave the location of the boat. “It’s a twenty-six-foot cabin cruiser called
Aimless
. Tell Lieber everything and meet me there.”

Jeremy wanted a cigarette. He really, really wanted a cigarette. But he hadn’t smoked since—well, he hadn’t smoked since Marina. And after all that had happened with her, he’d sworn off smoking. But now, it was like déjà vu. And not a good kind of déjà vu.

He went over to the screened-in porch window. Outside, the street was quiet. What was Robbie up to? Why hadn’t she called yet? He touched his pocket. His phone was in there, but he didn’t want Lieber to see him checking it. He had turned it to vibrate at Mike’s house, but he’d definitely feel it when Robbie called him.

He walked back across the porch. Damn, he wanted a cigarette.

“So?” Lieber said. “Are you going to stop pacing like an expectant father and tell me what’s going on?”

Lieber sat on a floral-print chair, her hands gripping the wicker armrests.

She sure wasn’t acting too cool herself. She had arrived at his grandfather’s house a short while ago, and she and Jeremy had decided to stay on the front porch so they could talk out of the earshot of Jeremy’s grandfather and Elise. But it was weird being out here with the rattan carts of plants and the slow-spinning ceiling fan. This wasn’t a place for detectives. This was where Jeremy used to sit on his grandmother’s lap playing with the rhinestone eyeglasses she always wore on a chain around her neck.

“Jeremy. I don’t have all night.”

“Okay.” Jeremy sat down on the sofa, catty-corner from Lieber. He realized he was massaging his injured right fist with his left hand, and stopped. “Here’s the
Cliff’s Notes
version. First, I think you know this, but I need to say it up front. I didn’t kill anyone.”

Her face remained unreadable.

How much should he tell her? Too much and she’d overreact. Maybe even arrest him. And he couldn’t let that happen. He needed to be able to go with Lieber to help Robbie.

“I had an argument with this club girl named Tyra down at the pool this afternoon.”

Lieber tensed.

“Then a little while later, someone knocks on my door. It’s this young blonde, who’s always hanging out with Tyra. The girl tells me that someone attacked Tyra and she ran away because she was afraid for her own life.”

Lieber hadn’t moved. Jeremy’s fingers were twitching. Where was Robbie? Damn, he wished he had a cigarette. “Then,” he continued, “Robbie comes by and we figure out that this blonde girl, Angel, is really Kate.”

“What?” Lieber leaned forward in her chair. “You found Kate Brooks? She’s safe?” She started to stand. “Where is she? I must talk to her.”

He needed to stall her. “Kate’s fine. She’s with Robbie. Please, let me finish and then you can go do your thing.”

Lieber sat back down, remaining on the edge of the cushioned seat.

“Anyway, we realized that the cops might assume I had something to do with the attack on Tyra, so we left the SOBE. We took a taxi here.”

“I’m not even going to ask how you managed to get around the police lockdown.”

Jeremy shrugged. “We came here and Kate’s safe, and that’s pretty much it.”

“That’s pretty much it?” Lieber said.

How much more should Jeremy tell her? If he brought up the blackmailing ring, that would lead to him and Robbie going down to Key Largo, and then he’d have to explain about the two dead bodies. He wished Robbie would call, so he could tell Lieber what was going on. Why the hell did he let Robbie take off by herself and not tell him exactly what she was up to?

“Okay,” Lieber said. “You said Robbie went home. Where’s Kate now?”

“With Robbie. They wanted some sister time alone.”

She shook her head. “You both know better than that. If Kate was a witness to the attack on Tyra, I need to talk to her. Why the hell would Robbie leave here with her? That was irresponsible and evasive.” She reached into the pocket of her white blouse and took out her cell phone. “I’m furious with the two of you. Absolutely furious.”

Jeremy looked down at the woven straw area rug. He hated being yelled at. Lieber made him feel like he was ten years old.

Lieber was about to punch something into her phone, when it rang. She looked annoyed, but answered it.

The expression on the detective’s face changed to confusion, to disbelief, to anger. She listened for a long time. Finally, she said, “Okay. I’ve got that covered.”

She closed the phone and looked at Jeremy, her lips so tight together, they practically disappeared. “After you and Robbie came back here with Kate, where did you go?”

Jeremy felt his body heat up and sweat break out all over him. “Nowhere,” he said, looking her straight in the eye. “We stayed here. We’ve been here the whole time.”

“Oh, Jeremy.”

He could swear she was going to cry. Her grayish brown hair hung limply around her sagging cheeks. She was in her fifties—maybe a little older than Jeremy’s mother would have been—why the heck was she putting herself through all this crap by being a detective?

“That phone call was from a detective with the Monroe county sheriff’s department down in Key Largo,” Lieber said.

Jeremy began to shake. He tried with all his might to control it, but it just made him sweat more. He could feel it running down his face.

“Where’s your cell phone, Jeremy?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. He stared at the object in his hand in disbelief. A tin of mints. He blanked for a moment, then it came back to him. Robbie had given him the mints in the car. But where the hell was his phone? He felt his other pockets. Empty. His phone was gone. Impossible. Robbie was supposed to call him. And then, he remembered hearing a sound in the undergrowth when they were running away from Mike’s house. A sound like a small stone falling. He’d been in too big a hurry to check it out.

“The detective down in the Keys just found a phone, Jeremy. Your phone. In some bushes near Mike’s house. He said they never would have seen it, but it started making a vibrating noise.”

Robbie. That was all he could think about. Robbie was trying to reach him. She wouldn’t be stupid enough to go forward with her plan without speaking to him first, would she?

“Why is your phone in the bushes near Mike’s house?”

Cover or tell the truth? Robbie would wait to speak with him before she confronted Fieldstone; he was sure she’d wait.

“So that’s where my phone is,” Jeremy said. “I lost it Monday night.”

Lieber shook her head. “The detective also told me there was a big accident on U.S. 1. No one was seriously injured, but eyewitnesses said an old, gold Honda was speeding and driving recklessly. It caused the accident.”

A cigarette. He needed a cigarette.

Lieber was looking at his leather shoes, splattered with mud. “Where’s your grandfather’s car, Jeremy?”

“Robbie has it.”

“I’m going to ask you again. Were you in Key Largo this evening?”

Robbie. She wouldn’t wait. She’d leave a voice mail, since she knew he was expecting her call.

Jeremy needed to tell Lieber about Robbie. What Robbie was doing. That she had been trying to call him. That she was in danger. But where? Where had Robbie gone? Why hadn’t he made her tell him?

“Two bodies were found at Mike’s house,” Lieber said. “They appear to have been murdered a few hours ago. Someone trailed mud into the house. There are footprints everywhere.”

Lieber stood up and reached for something on her belt. Jeremy’s grandfather was opening the glass door that led from the house to the porch, Geezer close at his heels. His grandfather pushed his glasses up on his nose, looking perplexed.

“Wait,” Jeremy said to Lieber. “Please, listen to me. Robbie’s in danger. You’ve got to send backup to help her.”

“I’m sorry, Jeremy.” Lieber took in a deep breath and tightened the handcuffs around his wrists. “Jeremy Stroeb, you have the right to remain silent—”

Robbie stood near the apartment buildings on one side of the promenade. A short distance away, the
Aimless
was bobbing in the water, tethered to the dock by a couple of thick ropes. Lights were on inside the boat, but curtains blocked Robbie’s view of the interior. Was Puck looking out, watching her?

The moon was struggling to push out from behind the dense clouds and there were intermittent flashes of light in the otherwise tarry sky. A group of young men holding beer bottles walked by, giving Robbie the creeps. She stepped away from them, closer to the buildings, wondering if anyone directly above could see her if there was trouble down here.

One of the men made a rapid kissing sound, but the group continued on.

She took a deep breath. The blonde wig felt hot and conspicuous on her head. The blank DVD was in her satchel, which she held against her chest. She was sure she felt it throbbing, like the telltale heart in Edgar Allan Poe’s story. But she knew it was her own heart that was pounding.

What in heaven’s name was she doing? There was no sign of Jeremy or the cops. What if he hadn’t gotten her message? If she confronted Puck without any backup, she was as good as dead. And while Robbie knew herself to be reckless at times, she wasn’t a complete idiot.

She started walking away from the boat, back past Monty’s Raw Bar. It was after one in the morning and the restaurant was closed, though she could make out some people inside cleaning up for the night. She continued on toward the parking garage, where she’d left Jeremy’s grandfather’s car, and sat down on a gear locker that overlooked the bay. She took out her cell phone and dialed Jeremy’s number. It went to voice mail.

Damn.

“Hi. I’m here,” she said to the phone. It beeped. Shit. Low battery.

“Please call me back so I know you got my message.”

“I got your message,” said a man’s voice behind her.

Her breath caught in her chest. Oh my God. He must have been hiding in the garage, watching her.

Puck sat down next to her.

Stay cool, she told herself. He’s not going to do anything out in the open.

She ventured a look at him. He was clean-shaven and dressed in a sweatshirt and loose jeans. No cap covered his bald scalp. He was wearing his heavy glasses, and stared out toward the bay, not at her. Now she could see the resemblance plainly. Stanford Fieldstone. The great crusader.

How many people had he killed? Brett, Tyra, Mike, and the guy with the scarred lip. And who knew how many more?

He reached for something in his pocket.

Robbie’s fingers clutched the edge of the gear locker. Scream, she told herself. But what good was screaming? Even if someone heard her, by then it would be too late. She’d already be dead.

He shifted closer to her. She felt like passing out.

“Take this,” he said softly.

He was trying to push something under her hand. It felt firm, but springy. She kept clutching the gear locker, but he was insistent. She glanced down. A wad of fifty dollar bills.

“I know you’re not one of them,” he said. “You’re a good girl. A beautiful, lovely girl. Go home. Back to your parents, your family. But get away from here.”

What was he saying? He didn’t want to kill Angel?

“Go,” he said. “Save yourself.”

From him? Why was he giving her a chance to escape? But if she left now, how could Robbie prove he was behind the other murders?

She reached into her satchel and held out the DVD for him to see.

“I don’t want it,” he said. “Let them air it on CNN for all I care. I’m finished with all that.”

“You are? You’re going to turn yourself in?”

He was looking at her funny. Something was wrong. She said something she shouldn’t have.

He reached over to touch her hair.

Shit. Her voice. He knew the voice was wrong.

He tugged and the hair came off in his hand. He looked from Robbie to the wig, then back again. “Damn.” He squeezed his eyes shut as though in pain. “It’s you. My rose girl.” He opened his eyes, but his mouth drooped.

Why was she feeling sorry for him? The man was a murderer.

“And the missing girl in the flyer was the blonde girl—Angel. You’re sisters, aren’t you?”

She hesitated, but it was obvious. “Yes.”

“You were behind it.” His voice was tight. “What made you do such a thing?”

What was he talking about?

“But it doesn’t matter now,” he said. “I told you this wasn’t the life I wanted for myself. I never wanted any of it. The fame, the power, the money.” He looked at the blonde wig in his hands. “What’s the worst they can do to me? Disbar me? Maybe I’ll have to
do some time, but 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.”

Let go of her? Who? He wasn’t making any sense. And he certainly wasn’t acting like a murderer. He sounded and acted like Puck.

And so she spoke to him like he was Puck. “But if you didn’t care about the videos, why did you do what you did?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Four people are dead.”

“Dead? And you think—” He gave a nervous laugh. “Jesus. I didn’t kill anyone.”