The Watcher

  “I’ve just washed their hair, my favorite time of the week. I’ve got one in every color. Don’t you think they’re beautiful? I think they’d look a lot nicer if you did them.”

  Oh God.

  No.

  He can’t make me do that.

  “I don’t need to explain what’ll happen if you disobey me. You don’t want that, do you, Marlie? You’ve been such a good little helper these last few days. I might just let you live a little longer, as a reward. Try out some new games. What do you think?”

  I want to die. That’s what I think.

  But I can’t. I won’t. He will not beat me. He will not hurt me.

  I’ll do whatever he wants if it gives me one more day to have the chance to escape this place.

  I look towards the hair. He’s got red ribbons with little white polka dots tied around the ponytails. I swallow my bile. Switch off. Just do what he asks and turn it off.

  “I’d like them braided,” he says in a singsong voice as he uncuffs me.

  I could fight him, but I know right now I’m not strong enough and I can see the bulge from the knife and gun he’s got tucked into his pants. I’d barely make it out the door. He steps back once I’m uncuffed and pulls out his gun, training it on me. “You know the rules, every time you do something wrong, I’ll shoot.”

  I swallow, and with trembling fingers and aching wrists I pick up the brush he’s set down and the first lock of hair. Tears burn under my eyelids as I run the brush through it. I can’t do this. I can’t. Oh God. My hands start rattling, but he seems oblivious.

  “That was Sasha. She tried to provide me with sexual favors for her release,” he snorts and shakes his head. “She should know that sexual favors don’t work on me. I don’t need them.”

  The hair is long and a soft, honey brown. God.

  I want to die.

  “Brush it, Marlie.”

  I keep brushing it, keeping my hands away from the scalp. I can’t touch that. I won’t touch that.

  “Pretend Sasha is here, pretend you’re having a little girls party. What would you say to her?”

  Sick.

  He’s so fucking sick.

  “I-I-I’d say—”

  “Don’t talk to me, Marlie, talk to Sasha.”

  Deranged.

  Sick.

  “Are you still seeing that boy, Sasha?” I croak out.

  Keep the tears in.

  “Very good,” he sings. “What would Sasha say back?”

  “I am, M-M-Marlie, he’s so good-looking don’t you think?”

  He shifts and I don’t miss the bulge in his pants as he watches the exchange with lusty eyes. This gets him off. The sick fuck.

  “Keep going,” he rasps, sliding the knife out and running his fingers over the blade.

  “I do think so,” I whisper. “I think he’s very handsome.”

  “Make her tell you what she’s going to do with him,” he demands, fingering the knife so hard that blood appears on his fingers.

  No.

  I can’t.

  I can’t do this.

  “Marlie!”

  I jerk awake and sit up, hands going to my hair. It’s there. It’s still there. I’m panting and covered in a cold sweat. It’s dark. I can’t see anything, but I can hear Kenai’s voice, strong and steady, bringing me out of my haze. I can’t stop the tears that burst forth and run down my face, or the strangled sob that leaves my throat.

  “Hey,” he says, his voice still slightly husky from sleep. “Hey, it’s okay. It was just a dream.”

  I sob harder, wrapping my knees up to my chest and hanging on tightly.

  “Dammit,” he murmurs, and then I feel his hard body come closer to mine before his arms go around me and pull me close.

  I sob harder.

  “One day, you’ll sleep peacefully. One day, I promise you, you won’t wake up to the horror of him,” Kenai says, his voice gentle.

  “I don’t believe that.” I hiccup. “I feel like I’ll never stop seeing those images.”

  “Maybe it won’t be every night, maybe at times they’ll appear, but I promise you there will come a time it’ll get easier.”

  His hand strokes down my hair, and it feels so incredibly good to be comforted. “Kenai?” I whisper through my sobs.

  “Yeah?”

  “Will I ever be normal again?”

  “No,” he says honestly.

  His words scare me. For a moment, panic rises in my chest and my heart starts pounding. His answer was honest and straightforward, said without even a pause. Like he knows. Like he can see something I can’t. Am I that obvious? Do people really just look at me and know, deep down in their souls, that I’m damaged goods? Before I can think too much more, Kenai continues.

  “But there is nothing wrong with that. What’s normal anyway? Everyone has some kind of demon, Marlie. Some worse than others. Normal isn’t reality. This is you now. It doesn’t make you weaker, or stronger, it’s just the new version. Accept it. Make it the best you can. Then, at the very least, you can say it didn’t defeat you.”

  I wrap my arms around his middle and hold him as tightly as I can, needing his comfort. His body is hard, he smells amazing, his skin is warm. He holds me until I calm down, his fingers gliding through my hair until my eyes get heavy, and just before I drift off, his lips brush across my forehead. “I wouldn’t want you any other way. You’re a brave girl, Marlie. The bravest I know.”

  I don’t know when I fall asleep, all I know is that when I wake in the morning, I’m still in his arms. They’re wrapped around me tightly, holding me secure. I feel safe for the first time since I can remember. My eyelids flutter open, and I look over to him, to see that he’s staring at the ceiling, eyes open.

  “Hi,” I whisper. “Sorry about last night.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” he says, releasing me and shuffling out of the bed. I miss his arms the moment they’re gone.

  “Thank you … for the comfort. I needed it.”

  His eyes hold mine, and something travels past the hardness I carry around and delves right into my heart.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “So,” I whisper. “What happens today?”

  “Today we go to Los Angeles. It’s time to finish this.”

  Why does it feel like it’s not going to be that easy?

  * * *

  Kenai orders breakfast for us while I shower.

  I take my time washing and drying my hair. I don’t know why I care, but I feel the need to look good, and that’s what I’m going to do. I dress once I’m done and make my way back out to the living area where he’s standing, on the phone. He doesn’t hear me come in, so for a moment, I just watch him.

  Pure male perfection.

  He hangs up and turns around, his eyes dropping to my hair, which is flowing around my shoulders. His jaw tightens and his eyes flicker away. Disappointment slams into my chest, but I force it back. I’m not here to find a relationship, I’m here to find my sister. Guilt swarms my chest and I cross my arms, suddenly feeling stupid. I shouldn’t even be focusing on any of this. It shouldn’t even cross my mind right now, but it’s been so long since I’ve felt anything but fear and loneliness.

  A knock sounds at the door and Kenai walks over, body stiff. He opens it, pokes his head out and looks left and right, then leans down and picks up a box. He studies the box, turning around and walking back in, kicking the door shut behind him. The package in his hands is small and poorly wrapped.

  “What’s that?” I ask, walking over.

  He shrugs and carefully lifts it to his ear, listening.

  “Do you think it’s a bomb?” I squeak, taking two steps back.

  He puts a finger up to his lips and listens, scowling at me. I zip it and let him do his thing. A second later, he lowers the box and rips the top off. He stares at the contents for a few seconds, before his eyes flicker to me. He’s not wearing his scowl anymore, but a sympathetic expression that makes my blood run
cold. “What is it?” I whisper, taking a hesitant step forward.

  “Marlie … I think it’s—”

  “What?” I say, cutting him off. “Kenai, what is it?”

  He sighs and hands the box to me. I take it and look down. Inside is a shirt. I recognize it instantly. It’s Kaity’s shirt. Her favorite. A little white top that zips up all the way from the bottom to the top at the front. It’s gorgeous, and sexy, and she loved it. My fingers tremble as I lift it up and turn it over. I gasp, dropping it back in. It’s covered in blood.

  “Kenai,” I cry, dropping the box. “That’s her shirt. It’s bloodied. Oh God. Oh my God.”

  “Marlie, take a breath,” he encourages, walking over and closing his fingers around my shoulders. “Breathe.”

  “I can’t,” I cry, my chest clenching with every passing second. “Someone has her. Someone has hurt her. It’s him. I know it is. I can feel it in my bones. He’s setting us up. He’s alive. He’s—”

  “Marlie, stop!” Kenai yells, forcing me to snap out of my panic enough to focus on him. “You and I both know you killed that man. Nobody can survive a knife into the brain.”

  “Then it’s someone else or maybe someone is getting revenge for what I did. I know it doesn’t make sense, but something inside me is screaming at me that I’m right. They’ve got my sister, they’re going to…”

  “Marlie,” he says, shaking me a little. “Anyone could have sent that. If she’s tied up with drugs, it could be a warning to us. You need to calm down and stay focused.”

  With shaky legs, I sit on the closest chair and nod. My stomach is twisting, my throat is burning, and my head is spinning. Something doesn’t feel right. I feel it right down to my core, but Kenai is right—I need to stay calm. I drop my head into my hands and take a few deep breaths as he studies the box again.

  “There’s no note,” he murmurs, more to himself than me. “Someone is just letting us know they’ve got her, but they’re not making demands. They’re also following us, because they know we’re here.”

  I tremble.

  It isn’t related to drugs, I know it, but I say nothing.

  “What do we do?” I ask. “Do we stay? Figure out who sent it?”

  “No,” Kenai says. “We keep moving. We need to find this Chris now more than ever.”

  THIRTEEN

  Kenai and I continue our journey to Los Angeles. He’s got leads and information on this Chris guy and is hoping it’ll be enough to get us what we need to find Kaity. He isn’t giving me much, in regards to what he’s found out, but he is keeping me in the loop enough that I have a basic idea of what’s going on. So far, it seems like we’re being led around in circles. I know I need to trust in Kenai, and know he’s good at his job, but something is not sitting well with me and it’s starting to bother me.

  “Why are you squirming?” Kenai asks when we’re about an hour out of Los Angeles.

  “I can’t help it, I’m restless,” I say, tucking my legs beneath me.

  “You’ve been shifting and sighing this whole trip, Marlie. Why?”

  “I think you’re wrong about this not being connected to what happened to me and I wish you’d listen.”

  His fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “I am listening to you, I’m taking what you’re saying in, but you need to trust me.”

  I exhale loudly. “But you’re not telling me anything. You’re making me try to piece it together on my own.”

  He sighs. “Marlie, I know you want me to tell you everything, but I’m not going to. That’s my rule. You have to believe I’m doing my best. If I tell you, then you’re going to freak out and start trying to sort it out on your own. That’ll only make things harder. Let me do my job.”

  “But—” I try.

  He looks away and doesn’t say anything, just stares out the windshield. This conversation is over.

  I sit quietly for a bit, but the awkward silence between us grows and makes me uncomfortable. Someone needs to address the elephant in the room. It’s making us both tense.

  “Kenai, about that kiss,” I say, regretting it almost instantly when he flinches.

  “It shouldn’t have happened, Marlie. I’m here to do a job, and getting tangled up like that … it can’t happen.”

  Right.

  Shame hits me like a punch to the gut.

  “Well, if you didn’t want to do it, why did you?” I snap, covering my embarrassment with anger.

  “Because you were broken, and you needed to know that you weren’t alone.”

  “So it was a pity kiss? And everything you told me last night was out of pity?” I yell, throwing my hands up, pissed that I even brought it up. “Wow. I’ve been a lot of things in my life, done a lot of things, but I’ve never been kissed out of pity.”

  “I didn’t—” he begins, but I cut him off by throwing a hand up.

  “No, don’t bother. It meant nothing anyway.”

  The car falls silent for a few minutes, before he curses under his breath.

  “What was that?” I growl, crossing my arms.

  He just shakes his head.

  “Fine, shut down again,” I huff, turning and staring out the window. “But I’m not the only one in this car who’s broken.”

  The rest of the drive is silent. We arrive in Los Angeles midafternoon, and Kenai immediately stops at a hotel to get us a room. I sit in his truck, staring out the window, refusing to move. He comes back out once he’s checked us in and taps on the window. I look over and see him dangling the keys. I guess that means we’re going up there before we go hunt down this Chris guy.

  Fine by me.

  I climb out of the truck and breeze past him. He mutters something along the lines of “stubborn ass woman” before following me into the hotel lobby. My phone rings just as we hit the elevator, and I glance down to see it’s my mother. I’m not in the mood to chat, but I pick up in case she’s worried about her daughter’s safety.

  “Mother,” I say, pressing the phone to my ear.

  “Great news, sweetheart. A film producer has expressed interest in your book being turned into a movie.”

  I flinch.

  My body goes still and I rasp, “I beg your pardon.”

  Kenai turns to watch me, his eyes narrowing as he hones in on the conversation.

  “Isn’t it wonderful? You should see the money they’re going to pay, and they said they’d keep it as true to the story as possible. This is our chance. This is it, Marlie.”

  I can’t be hearing her right.

  Something odd swells in my chest, an anger I’ve pushed down for so long. An anger I’ve ignored. An anger I should have unleashed on her so long ago. I think of my sister, sitting somewhere, terrified and alone, and all this woman is thinking about is money. No. No longer. Something explodes in my chest. Something I haven’t felt for such a long, long time.

  Strength.

  “Marlie?” she calls.

  “No,” I say, my voice scratchy with emotion.

  “Pardon me?”

  “I said no, Mother. No. I don’t accept. I do not give you permission to do that. It’s my story. You already dragged me into the spotlight with the book when what I needed was time and support to heal. I won’t let you do it again. No.”

  “But I’ve already told them you would and—”

  “Then un-tell them!” I scream so loudly Kenai flinches. “This is my life. This is my horror. You did not live it. You do not get to run around seeking fame from my despair. I suffered. Me. Not you. I’ve lived through enough, and you will not do this. If you do, I’ll take every cent that’s rightfully mine and remove your access to it.”

  She stammers on the other end of the phone.

  “And if you weren’t so damned selfish, you would have asked about your missing daughter, who you haven’t asked about once in the last week.”

  “I trust that the police are taking care of it,” she stammers. “Stop being so damned selfish.”

  I hang up t
he phone and launch it across the small space. It hits the mirror on the other side and bounces off. Kenai catches it in one hand, with little to no effort. Of course he does.

  “Marlie,” he says, his voice careful, steady.

  “She wants to make a movie,” I yell, grabbing my hair with both of my hands. “She wants to make more money out of my ordeal. She doesn’t care. She’s so damned selfish. She hasn’t once asked about Kaity, or me, or any of this. It’s all money, money, money.”

  “Marlie…”

  “Dammit, why am I not enough?” My knees buckle and Kenai steps closer, wrapping his arm around my waist and hauling me up. “Why am I not enough?” I whisper into his shirt. “I’m her daughter. I went through hell. Why can’t she just give me what I need?”

  “What do you need?” he says softly.

  “I need her to care. I need her to understand. I need her to see that she’s hurting me doing what she’s doing.”

  He holds me close, and the elevator pings as we reach our floor. He guides me out and towards our hotel room. I cling on to him, tears running down my cheeks, as he uses the card to unlock the door. When we’re inside, he moves us to the massive bed and we sit down.

  “You have the right to say no. You have the right to refuse all of it.”

  I put my face in my hands. “I know I do, but I was so weak and so fragile that I had no power.”

  “You have power now. You have all the power to re-create your life again.”

  I swallow and nod, keeping my head down.

  “You need some rest. Stay here. I’ll go and find Chris.”

  “No.” I jerk my head up. “Please, Kenai, I don’t want to be here. I need to help. I need to know I’m doing something good.”

  He studies me. “Okay, but you know the rules, Marlie. Now more than ever, it’s crucial you follow them.”

  I nod. “I won’t say a word. Thank you.”

  He nods, then hands me my phone. “You have the power to control your life now. Don’t be afraid to use it. I’m proud of you.”

  With that he walks into the bathroom.

  I can’t move.

  Something explodes in my chest.

  Something unfamiliar.