The Watcher

  I nod and stand, pressing the diary to my chest and rushing out after Kenai. As I pass the body, I feel pity and a small sense of relief for the woman lying there.

  At least she’s free now.

  It seems our nightmare, however, is only just starting.

  NINETEEN

  I read the diary the entire way back to the hotel. I can’t take my eyes off the horror that’s unfolding before me. This poor woman, what she lived through, it makes my skin crawl. I can’t imagine living that way, with those kinds of demons. Kenai sits quietly, letting me devour the journal like it’s a novel, only occasionally asking me to let him know if anything stands out. One particular entry has my skin crawling.

  Dear Diary,

  They’re obsessed with my hair. Every day he makes me sit while he runs his fingers through it. He’s teaching her. Showing her. He tells her how hair should look, how it should feel, how long it should be, and how soft it should be. He criticizes me if mine doesn’t look pretty enough, or if it isn’t washed. He’s obsessed with hair.

  Today, he made me sit for three hours while he demonstrated exactly how the hair is attached to the scalp, and how easily it is removed with the right technique. Hearing her laugh as he explained it, listening to them talk about it as if it were nothing more than a discussion about a car, frightened me.

  But I sat. And I let them.

  I’m going to regret this one day. I’m helping to create two monsters that nobody will escape from.

  Why am I so weak? Why don’t I just run?

  God help me.

  I shiver and try to focus on the facts that are important. “The strange thing,” I say, closing the diary, “is that she never mentions the daughter’s name, not even once. It’s like she was too afraid to even put it in here, like somehow it could come back and haunt her.”

  “It’s not uncommon for people to skip over names in diary entries, just for safety and privacy reasons. Georgia had told the police she knew nothing about her brother, which was clearly a lie. I guess she couldn’t face the truth so she kept it hidden, so no one would find out.”

  I nod, exhaling loudly. “I just can’t believe her own brother did that to her, and then forced her to raise a child created from incest.”

  “Yeah, it’s fucking sad,” Kenai says, his voice low. “Just makes you realize there are sick people out there, sicker than you can ever imagine.”

  “Do you think you’ll be able to find anything when we get back to the hotel?”

  He shrugs. “I’m not sure, I collected what I could and I’ll look into her medical records to see if there is any reference to this child, but honestly, I’m guessing the child was never even registered.”

  “Can you imagine the life she lived? The child, I mean?”

  Kenai nods. “Yeah, it couldn’t have been pleasant.”

  “Do you think people can truly be born evil or do you think it is created? Like do you think that little girl would have had a chance without Clayton in her life?”

  Kenai thinks on that for a moment before answering. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I know there are some conditions, some actual neurological conditions, that make people do evil things, but I’d like to believe that all kids are born innocent.”

  “Me too,” I say softly, tucking my legs up to my chest.

  “How are you feeling? After seeing all that today?”

  I shrug. “It was hard, but I feel mostly sympathy for that woman. The life she must have lived, I can’t even imagine. The fear. No escape. I know what that monster was like. I know. I dealt with it for only a little while, she had years and years of torture. I’m so glad he’s gone, and can’t torture anyone else. Because honestly, can you imagine what he might have done to her?”

  Kenai reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Yeah, it’s a hard thing to imagine.”

  “She’s at peace now, I just have to keep reminding myself of—”

  Something launches out in front of the car. Kenai reacts quickly, slamming on the breaks and narrowly missing the dark object that darts off the other side of the road. My throat is tight and my body prickles with adrenaline as I watch it disappear into the darkness.

  “Was that … was that a person?” I whisper, my voice failing me.

  “I think so. Let me check it out. Stay here.”

  Kenai pulls the car over to the side of the road and then takes a flashlight from the center console and jumps out of the car, leaving it running. Fear prickles my skin and suddenly I’m finding it hard to breathe as everything goes black. I reach over to lock the door when movement outside catches my attention. I could swear I see a flash of red. Kaity? It couldn’t be.

  I don’t think, I leap out of the car and call out, “Kaitlyn?”

  Nothing.

  I walk towards the back of the car, but no one seems to be anywhere near it. I squint into the trees, looking for Kenai, but I can’t even see his flashlight anymore. “Kenai?” I call.

  He doesn’t speak.

  Doesn’t answer.

  “Kenai?” I call again.

  Still no answer.

  The driver’s door to the car slams shut, and I whip around just in time to see the reverse lights flick on. A loud squeal can be heard as the car starts speeding backwards towards me. I launch out of the way just in time, and then, with a spin of the wheels, the car takes off into the night. Someone just stole our car, after they tried to run me down. I brush off the dirt, my skin burning where it’s been scratched.

  “Kenai?” I scream into the darkness.

  Nothing. Where is he?

  I push to my feet and rush over in the direction he’d disappeared into. I shove into the trees, terrified, and see the faint glow of a flashlight on the ground. My heart races as I run forward, dropping to my knees beside it and picking it up. I shine it around and see Kenai bent over against a tree, clutching his stomach, struggling to breathe.

  “Kenai!” I cry, rushing over.

  He’s got blood on his fingers.

  No!

  “Talk to me, tell me you’re okay,” I call frantically, shining the light on his stomach.

  “Stabbed … me,” he gasps. “Call an ambulance.”

  “Someone stole the car. Oh God. Kenai, don’t panic, I’m going to find a way to help you.”

  “Struggling to breathe,” he wheezes. “You need to get help, Marlie.”

  I close my eyes and try to think. I need to put pressure on his bleeding so he doesn’t bleed to death before I can go to find any help. “Don’t move too much, okay?” I say softly. “I need to control the bleeding.”

  He doesn’t argue, he just carefully shifts until he’s facing me. He removes his hand, which is covered in blood. His breathing is quite shallow, from panic or the wound I don’t know. I hope panic. I pray panic. I gently lift his shirt, and like the alpha male he is, he doesn’t make a sound. So strong. There is so much blood, it’s hard to tell how deep or large the wound is.

  “I can’t tell much, but I’m going to put a little pressure on it so we can slow down this bleeding. Sit down, put your back against something so you’re not trying to hold your weight up. Let your body rest.”

  I help him sit down against a tree, and he winces in pain as he lowers himself. I slide off my top and press it against his wound. He makes a throaty, pained sound and it kills me to know he’s hurting, but I have to help him. “Put your hand on this, keep the pressure there. I’m going to call for help. Do you have your phone on you?”

  “In the car.”

  “Mine too. I’ll go out to the road, try to find help.”

  “Take the flashlight,” he rasps.

  “No, you need it. I’ll be able to see once I get back out to the road.”

  He doesn’t argue, and that scares me.

  I tuck the flashlight between his legs, cup his face gently, and then navigate my way back out onto the road. There isn’t a car in sight, and I know we’re a fair way out of town. I glance around, looking for something to remind
me which direction I’m coming from, so I don’t lose Kenai. There is a sign on the opposite side of the road that says something about a hotel a few miles ahead.

  I take a mental picture, then I start walking in the direction it indicates. If I have to run a few miles, I will. I might be in my bra and pants, but I’m going to do this. Knees and pride be damned. I pick up into a jog, and get a few hundred feet down the road when I see car lights coming in my direction. I step off to the side of the road and start waving my arms around, but the car doesn’t slow down. It takes me a moment to realize it’s Kenai’s rental car.

  I launch off the side of the road, just as the car whizzes by me. It spins around, tires squealing, and my anger emerges. Kenai is hurt. Whoever this is—I’m tired of their game. I’m tired of being scared. I’m tired of running. I’m just so damned tired. The car speeds back towards me, and I roll once more, dodging its brutal attack.

  No.

  Not going to happen.

  With a lump in my throat, but with a determination I’ve never felt, I pat my hands across the ground until I come up with a large, heavy rock. I clutch it with both hands, stand up, and start walking out onto the road. The car has just spun around again, and its lights are aimed at me, bright and deadly. I can’t see who is behind the wheel but I can hear the engine rev. My heart feels like it’s going to leap out of my throat.

  “I’m not afraid of you anymore, you bitch!” I scream.

  More revving.

  “Do your best!” I scream. “You will not win this. You will not beat me.”

  I don’t know if whoever is in that car can hear me, but I don’t care.

  The car hurtles towards me. I raise the rock in the air with all my strength. Whoever it is seems confident I’ll leap out of the way. I don’t. I stand right there in the middle of the road and when the car is close enough, I throw the rock with all my might then leap out of the way. The car swerves as the rock shatters the windshield, and suddenly it’s spinning out of control. Tires screech as it hits the other side of the road then disappears into the trees.

  I run towards it.

  I’m tired of this.

  I’m going to face my demons once and for all.

  TWENTY

  Smoke pours from the hood of the car, and the entire front end is smashed up and crushed against a tree. I reach down, pick up a stick, and clutch it close as I move to the driver’s side door. My heart is in my throat, my hands are shaking, and my entire body is numb as I reach for the handle and jerk it open. I raise the stick, but the front seat is empty.

  My eyes dart to the passenger side, then to the back.

  Gone.

  Whoever was in this car is now gone.

  Devastation grips my chest and I press a hand over my heart, trying to control my breathing. So close, and yet so damned far.

  Kenai.

  I have to focus.

  I rush around to the passenger side to find my purse, dig out my phone, and dial 911. I give the operator directions, then I rush back up onto the road and over the other side, heading towards the flashlight. Kenai is still propped against the tree, his head dropped, his hand pressed against his stomach.

  “Hey,” I say softly, dropping to my knees. “Kenai. Can you hear me?”

  His eyes flicker open and his breathing is still ragged, but at least he’s awake.

  “What happened out there? I could hear it from here,” he manages between rasping breaths.

  “Whoever stole the car tried to run me down. I threw a rock through the windshield and they crashed. But they were gone before I could get to the car. Whoever it is, they’re playing a dangerous game.”

  Kenai looks at me, and his lip twitches in a broken, pained attempt at a smile. “You threw a rock at the car?”

  I grin. “Well, I’m tired of this game now. Whoever’s doing this thinks I’m still the pathetic, weak Marlie. I’m not. I’m so much more.”

  He reaches out with a shaky, bloodied hand and runs his thumb down my cheek. “Fucking proud of you,” he rasps.

  “Stop talking, the ambulance is on its way. You’re going to be fine, do you hear me?”

  He nods and closes his eyes again.

  I sit by him until I hear the familiar sirens whizzing down the road. I stand and rush out, waving them down. Then I stay clear as they get Kenai onto a stretcher and load him into the back. I climb in with him, holding his hand as we speed off into the night.

  “You’re Marlie Jacobson,” the EMT officer says as we head towards the hospital.

  I glance at him. He’s not looking at me, but writing something on a sheet of paper. When I don’t answer, he looks up.

  “Sorry,” he says, looking genuinely guilty.

  “No, it’s okay,” I say. It’s not his fault. “Yes, I am.”

  “I saw your story on the news. I used to work in Denver. I assisted when one of the other girls was, ah, found.”

  Oh.

  “I’m sorry. That must have been awful.”

  I can only imagine how handling those bodies would have felt. Missing a scalp, tortured. I shiver.

  “It was,” he admits. “Which is why I admire you for your strength in getting out. I never read your book, but I saw what he did. You’re a strong and brave person. It’s truly an honor to meet you. If I had known I would be picking you up tonight, I would have dressed nicer.”

  He smiles.

  I giggle.

  “Stop hitting on my girl,” Kenai rasps, squeezing my hand.

  The EMT officer grins at me and I wink.

  “You just rest,” I order, stroking a finger down Kenai’s face.

  “I’m trying,” he wheezes. “But it’s really hard when he’s trying to chat up my woman.”

  I roll my eyes and the EMT officer chuckles softly.

  “I see you haven’t lost your broodiness,” I say, stroking Kanai’s hair from his forehead. “Now stop talking and rest.”

  He grumbles.

  But he does as he’s told, for once in his life.

  * * *

  “He was very lucky, the knife just missed his lungs. Whoever stabbed him drove that blade intending to hit something vital. The angle came close to his left lung but fell just short,” the doctor tells me early the next morning while Kenai is sleeping.

  “That’s good news,” I sigh, exhausted.

  “He should be able to go home tomorrow, but he’ll need to take it easy. His wound is quite deep and he lost a good amount of blood.”

  “I understand. Thank you, Doctor.”

  I close my eyes when he leaves and rub my forehead.

  Rest? Kenai?

  That’ll never happen with Kaity out there and me in danger. How is he going to find her when he’s injured? Was this the plan all along? To take him out of the picture? I shudder at the thought and make my way towards his room, papers in my hand for us to go over. If he’s stuck in this hospital another day, then we can at least figure out as much as we can about the situation.

  I reach his room and peer in. He’s propped up in the bed with his eyes closed, but I can see his fingers rubbing against his skin, so I know he’s awake. I knock softly, and his eyes fly open and turn in my direction. I put up a hand and wave. “Hi there.” I smile as I walk in and sit down on the end of his bed. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Not too bad. Pissed they won’t let me get out of this hell hole.”

  I chuckle. “Typical male response.”

  He grunts. “Your sister is out there, Marlie. I don’t want to be stuck in here when I could be out there helping her.”

  My chest clenches. “I know, I get it. I brought these,” I say as I hold up the papers and the journal. “At least we can go over it all and try and see if there is anything to help us out as to the whereabouts of this daughter.”

  Kenai smiles weakly. “That’s my girl, always thinking ahead.”

  I beam and hand him the bag of stuff he collected from the house. I flick open the diary and curl my legs beneath me, con
tinuing to read the horrifying story of how Clayton’s sister lived. It sends chills up my spine every time I open it. I hate reading the words and yet I find myself unable to stop.

  Dear Diary,

  She’s getting worse.

  Today she had a fit because I wouldn’t let her go hunting with her father. She stormed into the kitchen and pulled out a knife, waving it around at me. I disappeared into the bedroom and locked the door, but I could hear her for hours, standing outside scraping the knife down the door, calling out to me, telling me I had to come out eventually.

  I thought about going out and letting her end it.

  I’m so tired.

  But then he came home and stopped her. They went out for ice cream, as if they’re just normal people who lead normal lives. I didn’t complain. When they’re gone, it’s the only time I feel like I can breathe without fear gripping me. I should run. I should just pack up and leave.

  But I know he’ll find me.

  Or she will.

  I’m their prisoner for the rest of my life.

  I flip the page and look up at Kenai, who is going over Clayton’s case file again. He hasn’t gone through the bag of things he collected. He looks up, and as his eyes meet mine he gives me a small smile and my heart pounds.

  “Hi,” he says softly.

  “Hi yourself.”

  “Come over here, give me a kiss.”

  I put the diary down and get on my hands and knees, crawling towards him. When I reach him, I lean in and press my lips softly against his, trying not to put any pressure on him. We kiss for a long time, until we’re distracted by my phone. I sigh and roll my eyes, pulling back and shuffling to the end of the bed so I can pick it up. It’s Hannah.

  “Hey, Han,” I say, crossing my legs.

  “Marlie! Hey! How’s everything going?”

  “It’s getting there, a bit of a bump in the road, but it’s nothing major.”

  “That sucks,” she sympathizes. “Listen, are you still in San Diego?”

  “Yeah, why is that?”

  “I’m here!” she cries happily. “I was hoping you hadn’t left yet. Do you want to grab a coffee?”

  I smile. “I’d love that. When?”

  “Today? Now, if you have time?”