The Watcher

“I just thought I’d wake you up. You look like you didn’t sleep last night, Lee.”

  Paul is the only person who calls me Lee and honestly, I don’t mind. I hate the name Marlie. I always said it reminds me of a dog, and what would you know, there was even a movie about a dog called Marley. Honestly. What are the odds?

  I give him a weak smile. “I didn’t, but I can still bring in the tips like there’s no tomorrow. Even on a bad day.”

  He finally cracks and winks at me. “I have no doubt. Take a break after you take these plates out; you’ve been working for six straight hours.”

  I glance down at my watch. Holy crap, I have.

  Yeesh. No wonder why my legs have been killing me.

  “No problem.”

  I take the plates and deliver them to the intended table, smiling politely at the customers, and then go to take my break. I grab my phone, and a croissant out of the warmer, and head out back to the small rickety chair that all Paul’s staff use to smoke, eat, and do other things on. I don’t even want to know what those other things are, but I hear this chair has stories.

  I take a bite of the buttery croissant and stare down at my phone. Seven missed calls. Four from Hannah, three from my mother. My mother only ever calls when she wants to “borrow” more money. Even though she can just take it when she wants it, she thinks she’s doing a good thing by getting my permission. She called for money just two days ago, so it’s unusual to see another call from her this soon after. But the ones from Hannah are concerning. I quickly check for texts but there are only some alerting me to voicemail.

  Skipping them, I call Hannah right away.

  “Marlie, I’m so sorry,” she says breathlessly into the phone. “I know you’re at work and I wouldn’t have called unless it was important.”

  She seems panicked. My heart starts to pound.

  “Hannah, is everything okay?”

  “Look, you know I wouldn’t worry you over nothing, but Kaitlyn is missing.”

  My blood runs cold. “What do you mean she’s missing?”

  “I mean she’s just gone. I told you I’ve been keeping an eye on her. You knew she’s been going out with that Chris guy, and I recently learned she started doing drugs. I was going to tell you, but she begged me not to, said it was only a one-time thing. I hadn’t heard from her since yesterday so I went over today and…”

  “And what?” I ask, my throat so tight it burns.

  “And her place was trashed. Things were thrown around everywhere, but she’s not there. It’s been eighteen hours now, and I can’t find her.”

  No.

  Oh God.

  A familiar pang of fear grips my chest. An automatic paranoia. My brain goes to the worst possible situation and it clings on.

  “Have you called the police?”

  “I have, and I called your mom, but Marlie, you need to come home.”

  My mind spins. Home. Home. No, I can’t go home. I don’t want to go home. Goddammit. I don’t want to return to that place, but for Kaitlyn … dammit … I have to.

  “I just know something is wrong,” Hannah continues. “She’s been with this horrible man and his awful friends. Something bad is happening; you need to be here, your mother is a mess.”

  “Okay,” I say in a tiny, shaky voice. “Okay Hannah, just give me today to get the time off.”

  “I’ll be here waiting, call me when you get in. It’ll be okay, Marlie.”

  “Will it?” I whisper.

  “I’m sure it will, just come quickly.”

  “Okay. Bye,” I whisper to no one, because she’s already gone.

  Even though I know she’s not lying to me, I still dial my sister’s number. It rings and rings. My chest gets even tighter, and I try again. Again nothing. Kaity always answers or texts to let me know she can’t talk. It’s our thing. Panic turns to real fear as I try to come up with a reasonable explanation in my mind. Maybe she just needs some time away. Maybe she lost her phone. Maybe she’s with friends. Maybe she’s just busy. I go over all these scenarios, but I can feel it deep in my gut.

  She’s not okay.

  I turn my dry eyes, eyes that haven’t cried for three years, to the line of thick trees and beg my heart to stop pounding.

  But mostly, I beg for Kaitlyn to return safely before I have to go back there. If I go back there, all the monsters I’ve put to bed will rise up once more. All the memories, all the nightmares, all the familiar fear and desperation, they’ll all come back. I’ll be forced to remember the horrible months that followed my escape. I’ll have to relive the nightmare I’ve tried so hard to forget.

  I don’t want to go back there.

  THREE

  The sun is blaring down through my windshield as I round the corner to my mother’s mansion. There are police cars lined up outside, and the moment my eyes fall on them, my stomach drops. It’s been thirty-six hours. Kaitlyn is officially missing.

  My sister. The only one in my family who’s ever truly cared. The only person who understands what I went through. Now I don’t know where she is or what she’s going through.

  I pull my truck up onto the curb and stare at the massive, three-story home my mother had built after my book took off. I have been in there once and haven’t been back since—just looking at it reminds me that it’s built from my horror. How can it even feel like a home, considering what it’s based on? A shiver ripples through my body and I rub my sweaty palms over my jeans. I glance into the rearview mirror and take note of how awful I look. My honey-colored hair is thrown up in a messy ponytail and my steel-grey eyes seem vacant—better yet, they match the dark rings under them. I look like shit.

  I swallow and then throw open the door and walk with shaky legs up to the front of my mother’s house. I don’t knock, I just walk in. Four police officers are sitting at her large round dining table. One of them has his hand on her back, rubbing gently as he tries to talk to her. Her blonde hair is falling onto the glass tabletop in a perfect mess, and her shoulders are shaking.

  I clear my throat.

  Five sets of eyes turn to me.

  I recognize two of them. Officer Black and Officer Haynes. They were there when I was rescued. I liked Black, but Haynes was an insensitive prick. If I know my mother, she would have requested them specifically on this case. There are hundreds of officers in Denver, but she chose to get these two. They were aware of our family’s fame and would be sure to give her the celebrity treatment. Black scoots his chair back, his blue eyes wide as he strides over to me, a weary smile on his face. “I never thought I’d see the day. Marlie, how are you?”

  He reaches me and extends his arms for a hug that I stiffly return. Ever since my kidnapping, physical contact bothers me. I’ll tolerate it when I have to, but I’d prefer not to have to. He pats my back and then releases me, smiling down. His hair, which was dark last time I saw him, is slowly going gray on the sides. It suits him, makes him look more sophisticated.

  “Marlie!”

  My mother’s screeching makes me spin around. She stands and darts towards me, arms open. Without warning, she thrusts herself against me, throwing her arms around my neck. I pat her on the back like she has an illness, and stiffly stand and wait for her to let me go. When she does, she’s crying. Big fat tears roll down her cheeks.

  “I don’t know where she is. Oh, Marlie.”

  “It’ll be okay, Mom,” I say in a monotone voice, before turning to Black. “What’s being done?”

  He sighs and waves a hand towards the chairs. I go towards one, glaring at Haynes as I do. He glares right back. Prick. I sit down. Black and Mom join the table again.

  “As I was just saying to your mother, Kaitlyn has been spending time with some less than honorable people. We arrested one of them for dealing hard drugs, and I heard from an informant just last week that she’s been seen more and more with this group.”

  “How will this help us find her?” I ask. He sighs and runs his hands through his hair, looking tired and worn
. “Marlie, at this stage there’s nothing to indicate anything horrible has happened to Kaitlyn. Her boyfriend Chris left town, so there’s a good chance she’s just gone with him, in which case we have no legal right to stop her.”

  “She wouldn’t do that,” I protest. “She wouldn’t just get up and leave without telling anyone.”

  “She’s been acting out lately,” Mom cries. “You don’t understand, Marlie. She’s in a bad place.”

  “Maybe she is,” I snap. “But surely you can’t just assume that she decided to leave. Her apartment was trashed.”

  “And it doesn’t look like anything was stolen,” Black says gently. “Not even cash. My guess is it was someone looking for drugs. There was no sign of a struggle. We’re looking into this, but unfortunately it doesn’t take priority as there’s a high chance that Kaitlyn has chosen to leave. While the apartment was in bad shape, it wasn’t overly suspicious. These things happen all the time.”

  “You don’t know what’s happened with her, though,” I yell, frustrated. “She’s not answering her phone, and she always answers me. She might not even be with this Chris man, did you consider that? What if someone else got her? What if—”

  “Marlie,” Black says, placing his hand on my shoulder and giving me a soft look that makes me want to slap his hand away. “I don’t believe Kaitlyn has been taken. I believe she’s with Chris, but we’re still investigating to be sure.”

  “How long will that take?” I ask. “If someone has her, moving fast can save her life.”

  He looks unconcerned. “It’s hard to say.”

  “Are you looking for Chris in the meantime?”

  “We’re trying, but it’s proving to be harder than we first thought. He doesn’t run with the best crowd, and his friends haven’t exactly been forthcoming with the police.”

  “That’s my sister!” I yell, hands trembling. “You need to try harder.”

  “Yes, I know you’re worried, and I promise you I’ll do everything I can.”

  “But there’s no guarantee, right?”

  He looks sad. “Sorry, no. Troubled individuals run away all time and we do what we can. But unless we have reason to believe she’s in danger, we are unable to progress further than a basic search.”

  “She didn’t run away,” I whisper. “I feel it in my gut. And what about her phone being disconnected? When I first called a few days ago, it was still ringing. Why has it stopped now?”

  “If she doesn’t want to be found, Marlie, then she won’t be. A disconnected phone isn’t necessarily a concern—it’s a simple enough thing to do.”

  “Something isn’t right, Black.”

  His eyes grow soft. “We’re looking into it. I will do all I can. I promise you that.”

  That’s just not enough.

  * * *

  I wander aimlessly through Mom’s house after the officers leave. It’s massive, filled with the finest furniture, yet it feels so damned empty. There is not a single bit of warmth to be found anywhere. It’s worse than a show home. It’s a show home built on a foundation of darkness. I shiver and rub my hands up and down my arms when I hear a throat clear behind me. I spin around and exhale with relief and happiness to see Hannah standing in the hall.

  “Hannah!” I smile weakly, stepping towards my friend. She extends her arms for me and I go into them, letting her hug me. Outside of Kaity, she’s the only person I can handle touching me, and even then, it’s only for a short period of time.

  “How are you?” she asks.

  “I’m fine. The police left a while ago.”

  She steps back and studies me. She has the prettiest blue eyes, and with her dark hair, it makes quite a combination. “What did they say?”

  I sigh. “That she has been getting into trouble lately, and they think that she’s left on her own. They’re looking into it, but it’s not priority.”

  Hannah’s jaw drops. “That’s insane!”

  “That’s what I said,” I mutter. “But what else can I do?”

  “There has to be another way. Kaitlyn wouldn’t just leave, and what about her phone that’s suddenly disconnected?”

  “I mentioned all of that,” I say, flopping down onto my mother’s luxury couch. “But they only said ‘We’ll look into it.’ They’re looking for this Chris guy, but sadly if they can’t find him, they won’t push it.”

  “That’s so stupid!”

  “I know,” I say, putting my head in my hands.

  “Marlie,” she says hesitantly. “There is one other option.”

  I lift my head and glance at her. “And that would be?”

  She bites her lip, then says, “Kenai Michelson.”

  “Hell no!” I cry, leaping up. “No fucking way am I asking that broody, arrogant, overpriced prick to help me.”

  She throws her hands on her hips and gives me a hard stare. She might be small, but she’s lethal when she wants to be. “You don’t even know him. You’ve never met, and he’s the best investigator this side of the country.”

  “I might not have met him, but everyone knows what he’s like. Everyone. I’ve read the stories about him. He’s a horrible person,” I point out.

  Her lips twitch. “The police could take months, even longer, to find anything. Kenai is amazing. He could find your sister and Chris in half the time.”

  I shoot her a look. “So you want me to make a deal with the devil?”

  She meets my gaze. “I guess it depends on how much you want to find Kaity.”

  That hits me like a punch to the chest.

  “Don’t,” I warn. “Don’t do that, Hannah. You know how much I love her.”

  She shrugs and raises her hands, then slaps them to her thighs. “Then go and see him. Yes, he’s said to be difficult to work with, but anyone who knows anything says he’s the best in his field.”

  “Didn’t he throw a woman out of his car for pissing him off? Like, he literally lifted her up and launched her out of his car, while it was moving.”

  “You don’t know if that’s true. Besides I heard it was going like ten miles per hour.”

  “Hannah!” I cry.

  She gives me a soft look. “Think about it, Marlie, you know he can help.”

  I grunt.

  She pats my shoulder.

  Dammit, she’s probably right.

  FOUR

  I’m trying one last pathetic attempt at getting information for the police so I don’t have to turn to Kenai. Well, I’m planning on trying one last pathetic attempt. Right now I’m sitting in my car, trembling, feeling acid burning in the pit of my stomach, staring out at the local café near my home, where all the people I grew up with spend time.

  Getting out means facing this town again. Facing the stares. Facing the horrible sympathetic words and attempts at making me feel better. Facing the gawkers, the fans. I don’t know if I can do that. My sister’s face flashes in my mind and pain crushes my chest. I’m doing this for her. She’d do it for me.

  So I swing the door open and get out. I make it halfway down the street when it starts. Random people calling out. Whispering to each other. “Oh my God, is that Marlie Jacobson? What is she doing back in town? Let’s go talk to her. Maybe she’ll take a picture with us.”

  Keep your head down. Don’t let them in. You can breathe free, Marlie. You can overcome this. You don’t have to let this rule your life. You don’t have to let this be who you are. This does not need to be your story.

  I repeat this mantra in my head over and over as my sneakers pound the cracked footpath below me. My breathing is coming in short, shallow pants and my heart is racing so hard I can feel it in my throat. Just ignore them. They’ll go away. They will. Just get to the café, ask the questions and leave.

  “I can’t believe she’d come back here after what that Clayton man did to her. I’d never come back to a place after something like that,” I hear.

  The name sends a jolt through my body, right to my heart, but I keep moving. My knees ache
as I pick up the pace, but I have to overcome this. It doesn’t need to rule my life. I’m here to help my sister. I have to think of my sister. Kaity. Kaity. Kaity.

  “I don’t know why she’d want to come back here, now that she’s got all that money and is living the dream.”

  Living the dream.

  Living the dream?!

  I’m living the nightmare. People will never understand what it was like living through the horror I faced. They’ll never understand that their attention made me feel pathetic, and weak. They’ll never understand how it felt to walk down the street, wondering if it would happen again, wondering if someone else would hurt me. Living in a constant state of paranoia. Just a few years ago, even going to the store was an ordeal. I’d seize up with panic attacks midway there, and have to turn around and run home in a cold sweat.

  No. They’ll never understand. They’ve conjured up images and stories in their minds, they’ve read news reports, they’ve decided who they think I am.

  I’m the girl who got away.

  I’m the girl who slayed the serial killer.

  I’m the girl who just wants to disappear.

  * * *

  “No, we know nothing,” The café owner, Michael, mutters as he stares at his feet.

  He can’t even look at me.

  I’ve been in here ten minutes, asking questions, but no one can look me in the eye long enough to answer me. It’s like they’re afraid of me, like they just don’t know what to say. I guess I’d probably be the same, but it’s been long enough now that surely they can at least try. Sometimes I wonder if they think I’m going to just lose it on them.

  “I just want to know if anyone has seen her,” I yell, throwing my hands up. “Is it really so hard to help me? This was my sister’s favorite café. If anyone has seen her, it’s probably someone here.”

  Everyone shuffles uncomfortably in their seats, still looking away. The only people who gawk at me are the newcomers or people who don’t know who I am. They’re simply enjoying the show.

  “Marlie,” Michael says. “I’ll have to ask you to leave. My customers are trying to eat and you’re disturbing them.”