The Watcher

  I look to Kenai and cover the phone, saying, “Do you mind if I go and have a coffee with Hannah? She’s in San Diego.”

  He shrugs. “Go for it. I need to sleep.”

  I beam. “I’m in,” I say to Hannah. “Where do you want to meet?”

  She gives me the name of a local coffee shop, and I promise to meet her there in half an hour. I hang up the phone and stand, gathering my things.

  “Leave the diary, I’ll keep going over this stuff while you’re gone,” Kenai says.

  I nod, walking over and cupping his jaw, kissing him. “Are you going to be okay?”

  He gives me a sour look.

  I giggle.

  “Of course you are, macho man. I forgot you don’t need anyone.”

  He grunts.

  “I’ll be back in a few hours,” I smile.

  As I walk towards the door, Kenai calls my name. I stop and turn.

  “Be careful, Marlie.”

  I smile. “Always.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  KENAI

  I watch her disappear out the door, and something squeezes deep in my chest. Something I’ve never felt before. I care about the girl who just walked out of my room more than I should in such a short time. The sharp pain in my gut has me shifting position, for the hundredth time today. I reach for the bag of items I collected from the little house. The sooner I can figure this out, the better.

  I pull a couple of notes and books out first, flicking through them. There isn’t much information, just bills and other such everyday matters. Grunting, I toss that stuff to the side and pull out a photo album. I open the dusty cover and stare down at the pictures. A lot of the house, some animals, some childhood photos of the two of them, a few of Clayton on his own, but there seems to be no pictures of their child. None at all. There are a few empty slots, and I wonder why those pictures have been removed.

  Probably because the daughter is a deranged psychopath.

  “Hi there.”

  I look up to see a young, blonde nurse coming into the room. I can see the blush in her cheeks from here.

  “Hi,” I mutter.

  “I’m just doing a routine checkup, if you don’t mind.”

  I shrug. “Whatever.”

  She laughs nervously as she checks me over, her fingers fumbling as she looks under my bandage. It’s like the woman has never seen a man before. I keep quiet as she finishes up. When she’s gone, I call the nurse’s station and ask not to be disturbed for a few hours. It’s crucial, now more than ever, that I get this psycho who’s after Marlie and Kaitlyn. The danger is only going to get worse. I can feel it in my bones. I only wish I’d listened to Marlie sooner—then we might not be in this mess.

  I feel like a fool for not believing her. I honestly thought she was just suffering paranoia from her ordeal. That made more sense in my mind than to actually believe that she could be right. What are the odds of it? I should have believed in her, and that’s on me.

  I jerk the bag back open and pull out some more items. I come across the purse I picked up from the table. I zip it open and flick through it. Some cash. A few old cards. Some receipts. I open those, most are just from food or alcohol purchases. I’m about to flip it closed when I notice a frayed edge sticking out of a tiny slot I hadn’t noticed. I reach for it and pull out a photo. I look at the picture.

  There is a little girl in it, and she seems familiar somehow. Maybe I’ve seen a photo somewhere of her? I try to recall it, but can’t. I squint, bringing the picture closer. Where have I seen her before? She’s a young, pretty blonde thing. Somewhat like the photos of what I’m assuming is her mother. I don’t see why else this picture would be in here otherwise. I continue to study it, trying to place where I’ve seen that face.

  Then I flip it over and my blood runs cold.

  The name on the back.

  No.

  It can’t be.

  No.

  I drop the picture and scramble for my phone, straining myself, my heart pounding as I get it into my hands and dial Marlie’s number. A vibration is heard at the end of my bed and my eyes dart to her phone, tangled up in the blankets. It’s vibrating. She must have dropped it. My heart races. No. Fuck. No.

  I have to get to her.

  I have to warn her.

  My eyes move to the picture again and the scrawly, semi-faded writing on the back.

  Hannah 1992.

  TWENTY-TWO

  MARLIE

  “I’ve missed you!” I cry, hugging Hannah when she arrives at the coffee shop.

  “Me too,” she smiles, squeezing me. “I’ve been so worried.”

  She’s such a good friend. Honestly, there are times I wonder how I’d have ever gotten through without her. One time in particular stands out. My heart warms recalling it.

  I just can’t do this anymore.

  I’m curled on the bathroom floor. My head is in my hands and my body is trembling. Hannah has come over to see Kaity, but she isn’t here. Somehow, somehow she knew to come in and check on me. I know the moment she enters the room, because I feel her arms go around me. I know they’re hers. I can smell her familiar scent.

  “It’s going to be okay,” she says softly.

  “No,” I whisper. “No, it feels like it’ll never be okay again.”

  “It will. I promise. When all is said and done, you’ll come out stronger.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do. Or how I’m going to get through this.”

  “You’re going to get through because you’re strong. Because you’re the strongest person I know. Believe that. Believe in yourself.”

  “I’ll never not see his face. His awful, monstrous face.”

  She holds me closer. “There will come a time when all you see is yourself and your strength.”

  “It’s been hard,” I admit, snapping out of my memory, pointing to a table, where we sit down.

  “I can imagine,” she says, placing her hands out in front of her. She has scratches all over them.

  “What happened to your hands?” I ask.

  She stares down at them. “Oh, I was gardening. Got a bit excited. I could ask the same of you. What happened to your eye?”

  I shrug. “It’s been somewhat of an interesting trip.”

  “How so?” she asks, shifting in her seat.

  She seems nervous.

  She’s probably as anxious as I am about Kaity.

  “We found out Clayton had a daughter, who is a total psycho just like him. I think she has Kaity.”

  Her face tightens and she slams her hand on the table. “Why do you think that?”

  “I found her mother’s journal, and it turns out the little girl was as crazy as her father. It makes sense she’d want to avenge her dad. God knows why. That man deserved everything he got.”

  Hannah’s phone rings, and she stares down at the screen, frowning. “Let me get this, Marlie.”

  She stands and disappears.

  Something doesn’t feel quite right.

  I’m not sure what it is, but there is a warning in my chest, alerting my body that something isn’t right. I glance around. Is the girl following me? Is she nearby? I study all the people surrounding our table, seeing if any of them are looking at me strangely, but they all seem to be minding their own business. Hannah returns a moment later, and she looks flustered.

  “I’m sorry Marlie, I just got word my aunty who lives here has tripped in her home and needs some assistance.”

  “Oh no.” I stand. “Do you need some help?”

  She nods, a tear runs down her cheek. “Yes. I’m so worried. Would you mind? I’m sure you want to get back to Kenai.”

  “No, it’s fine. Let’s go.”

  We head to her rental car and climb in. I reach into my purse to let Kenai know where I’m going, but my phone isn’t in my purse.

  “Damn!” I mutter.

  “What is it?” Hannah asks.

  “I forgot my phone. Can I borrow yours to call Kenai?” br />
  She frowns. “Sorry, the battery just went dead. Can you call him from my aunt’s house?”

  Crap.

  “Never mind, we don’t be long, right?”

  She nods, driving off. “Right.”

  I wish I could get the feeling out of my chest screaming at me that something is wrong.

  So very wrong.

  TWENTY-THREE

  KENAI

  “Calm down, Kenai, I can’t understand a fucking word you’re saying,” Darcy barks into the phone.

  I’m slamming my finger on the nurse button over and over. Why the fuck hasn’t one of them come in and checked on me? I could be fucking dying and they’re dragging their damned feet.

  “Kenai!” Darcy bellows and I jerk, removing my finger from the call button.

  “I know who has Kaity and I’m certain she’s just gotten ahold of Marlie, too. I’m stuck in this fucking hospital and she’s in danger. I need you to get me the fuck out of here. We need to find her.”

  “Slow down. Who are you talking about?”

  “Clayton had a fucking daughter, and that daughter has some sort of revenge plan, and Marlie is the target.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I don’t have time to go over this with you. I need you to get everyone you know to help, Darcy. She’s in danger, I can feel it in my fucking bones.”

  “Okay, give me all the information you have. Marlie have a phone we can track?”

  “Would you believe she left it here?” I say, my chest tightening.

  “That’s fucking not good. Do you know where the two of them were last?”

  I give him the name of the café Marlie said she was meeting Hannah at, as well as the address to Clayton’s sister’s house. With those things in his grasp, he promises me he’ll get as many men as he can on it and call in a search.

  “Get me out of here, Darcy.”

  “I can’t do that, Kenai,” he murmurs, his voice sympathetic. “You know I can’t do that.”

  “She’s in danger,” I growl.

  “Yeah and you’re injured. What good are you to us or her?”

  “I have information, I can help piece it together, I can help find her.”

  “No,” he says firmly. “No you can’t. I’ll keep you updated. Sit tight. Call me if you find anything else.”

  “Darcy?” I say before he hangs up.

  “Yeah?”

  “Find my girl.”

  He exhales. “I’ll do my best.”

  He hangs up the phone and I throw mine across the room, bellowing with rage. Marlie is in danger and I can do nothing but sit here and wait. I should’ve listened to her. That psycho bitch could be doing anything to her. She could be torturing her, or worse, and I’m worth nothing. I’m not able to provide one single thing. I can’t protect her. I promised her she’d be safe with me, and I let her down.

  For the second time in my life, my stupidity may cost someone I love the ultimate price.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  MARLIE

  “I didn’t know you had an aunt out here,” I say to Hannah as we arrive at an old, run-down house in the woods. It’s creepy. It’s old. It makes me uneasy.

  “Yeah,” Hannah says, climbing out of the car. “She doesn’t socialize much.”

  “Right,” I mumble, getting out and following Hannah to the house. It seems familiar somehow.

  As we walk up the rickety front steps, my stomach is flipping with anxiety. I can’t shake the feeling something awful is about to happen. Maybe Hannah’s aunt is dead in there. Oh God. What if that’s what my bad feeling is about? I take a shaky breath and when Hannah opens the front door, I follow her inside.

  The house is old and the floorboards creak. It’s filled with dust, like it hasn’t been lived in for a good, long while. If Hannah’s aunt lives her, she’s been living a hellish life, because I don’t know how any human being could survive in here. It’s awful. It smells and there are gigantic holes in the floor, showing the actual dirt beneath the house. I press a hand over my nose and glance around.

  I don’t see anyone.

  In fact, it really looks like nobody has been here for years.

  “Are you sure this is the right place?” I murmur, coughing from the dust.

  I turn, but Hannah is nowhere to be seen. I glance down at her dusty footprints leading into the bedroom. She steps out a second later—with a shotgun in her hands.

  “It’s the right place,” she says, her voice strange.

  “Why have you got a gun?” I ask. “Is your aunt okay?”

  She smiles, but it’s the kind of smile that sends chills right through your bones. It’s a cold, empty, emotionless smile.

  “I don’t have an aunty.”

  I blink.

  My skin prickles.

  “Sit down, Marlie.”

  I shake my head, confused. Is this a joke?

  “What’s going on, Han?”

  She raises the gun and my blood runs cold. “I said sit down.”

  I’m confused. I don’t know what’s happening. I stumble backwards and my bottom falls down onto the dusty, old sofa behind me. Hannah keeps the gun raised. The evil smile on her face remains. Is this a joke? Hannah is my best friend. I don’t understand.

  “What’s going on?” I say again, my voice shaky.

  “I’m going to tell you a story,” she says, lowering the gun and running her hands over it as she begins pacing the room.

  “Hannah,” I begin but she spins around.

  “Shut up. If you speak, I’ll shoot you.”

  I close my mouth as my body begins trembling. I’m starting to think my worst fears are about to present themselves.

  “My story starts with a father. He was a great father. He spent so much time with me; he loved me; he let me be who I was. He understood my dark thoughts; he understood that I was different, because he was different, too. He was all I had.”

  I swallow.

  Please no.

  “He did some bad things, I know, but people didn’t understand that it was part of him. They didn’t understand because they didn’t feel that intense need to kill like we did. It’s in our DNA. It’s wired deep. It’s who we are. It’s like a hunger you just can’t contain. It doesn’t matter how much you feed it, it’ll never get better.”

  My hands tremble.

  No.

  NO.

  “He was everything to me. When his life was taken, it tormented me for so long. I knew I had to do something, I knew I had to get justice. I knew I had to finish what he started. It’s what he would have wanted. He would want me to finish it. He would want me to let the world know that just because he’s gone, doesn’t mean he’ll ever be forgotten. I’ll never let him be forgotten. I’ll make sure he gets what he deserves. I’ll make sure you get what you deserve.”

  My vision blurs and horror flashes before me as reality slams in.

  Hannah … my best friend, my trusted confidant, my beautiful Hannah …

  “Y-Y-Y-Y-You’re her,” I whisper, my hands trembling. “You’re his daughter.”

  She smiles wickedly. “Surprise.”

  I shake my head.

  I can’t believe it. I won’t.

  Hannah has been my friend since … since …

  Since the start.

  Oh God. I remember the first time we met. She was so … so … real.

  “Marlie, this is my friend, Hannah,” Kaity says.

  I stare blankly at the girl my sister has brought in. I haven’t spoken to many people since I’ve been home. I just haven’t wanted to.

  “Hi,” Hannah says, then she surprises me by stepping forward and wrapping her arms around me. No one has been game to do that since I came home. “I’m so sorry for your ordeal. I hope you’re okay.”

  The kindness in her eyes speaks volumes. She looks at me sincerely, as if willing to listen.

  All I need is someone who will listen. I find myself warming to the stranger. The nonjudgmental, beautiful blon
de stranger.

  “Th-Th-Th-Thank you,” I stammer.

  “I don’t know you, but my heart goes out to you. If you ever need to talk with someone, you can always talk with me.”

  With that, the stranger lets me go, and she and Kaity disappear down the hall.

  And I know, I just know.

  I’ve made a real friend.

  “Was it all an act?” I say, rubbing my arms. “All of it … just an act?”

  “I had to gain your trust. I couldn’t have you doubt me even a little. And then you moved away, for years, and I tried to just move on but I couldn’t.” Her face goes red. “That book was everywhere. It wouldn’t let me forget. You made my father look like a monster, and I knew I had to come up with a plan. I knew it would take time. I knew I had to be patient. So I befriended Kaity, the broken, lonely girl and then, through her, I got to you.”

  Tears well in my eyes. “We loved you.”

  She shrugs merrily. “Love bites, honey. Get used to it.”

  I shake my head again. “Why now?”

  “I was tired of waiting. I couldn’t get close enough to you without you getting suspicious, so when Kaity started running off the rails, I knew I could use her to bring you back to town. Then, I thought it would be fun to torment you a little. It’s what my father would have wanted. And you know what? I loved every minute of it.”

  She laughs hysterically, like what she just said is so funny.

  “Where is Kaity?” I dare to ask, my throat tightening.

  “She’s been with me the entire time. I needed her for the game.”

  The game.

  “Your father is not the victim here,” I dare to say, my eyes darting past her to see if I can find some way to escape.

  I have no phone. I can’t even call Kenai.

  I should have listened to my instincts.

  I should have listened.

  “You killed him,” she hisses, rubbing her hands over the gun.

  Just like he used to.

  How did I not notice the connection between them?

  “He tried to kill me,” I say carefully. “Just like he killed all those other girls.”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” she says, her eyes flashing. “The need, it’s so strong. It’s what we were sent here to do. It’s our mission. We don’t get a choice. All we know is that we crave the kill. He did nothing wrong. He was just being himself, and you”—she points the gun at me—“you ended him.”