Someone's Watching (8 page)

Running had always been an outlet for her. There were days in Boston when she’d run for miles, even in the cold of winter. She wasn’t sure whether it was because she didn’t have friends or because it gave her an excuse not to make any.

The path continued up wooden steps to the boardwalk, the planks absorbing her pounding footfalls. She heard a growing chuffing noise overhead. A helicopter crossing above her.

At 41st Street, she ran down the boardwalk steps and cut over to Indian Creek, where she turned back south. She was perplexed by what she saw. Cars were backed up along Indian Creek Drive and a cop was redirecting traffic. There was rarely a buildup here, especially on a weekday morning. Robbie slowed her jog, noticing flashing lights, police cars, vans from the TV news stations. A collision? Or had a car gone into the creek?

She slowed down, curious, but she couldn’t see much. A crowd had gathered—a mix of tourists and locals from the low-rise buildings and old hotels along Indian Creek. The helicopter was hovering directly overhead like a vulture; it had the logo of a local news station.

Robbie stood next to a heavyset guy in shorts and flip-flops holding a plastic bag from Walgreens. Sweat had beaded on his forehead. “What happened?” she asked over the roaring of the helicopter.

“Don’t know,” he shouted. “Just got here. But there are divers.”

Robbie pushed through the crowd. Divers, she thought. Could be a car. Or a body. Whose body? But her mind didn’t want to go there.

The water reeked of decaying vegetation, and sprouted mangrove bushes with large, tangled roots. She could see better now.
There were people standing on the footbridge that crossed a narrow expanse of the creek. Yellow crime-scene tape marked large areas on both sides of the waterway, which appeared to have been closed to boat traffic. A tent had been set up just beyond the creek bed on a flat grassy area. What was that about? People loitered up to the edge of the tape, many filming the activity with their cell phones or cameras. They were smiling, having a good time. South Beach—fun and games any time, day or night.

And then she saw him in the crowd. Her father. Amongst the tank tops, T-shirts, and shorts, her dad stood out in his white oxford shirt and navy slacks. He stared at the water, his face expressionless. And she remembered him looking out at the river that night so many years ago.
There’s nothing I can do. Absolutely nothing
.

What had they found in the water? Kate? Dear God—let it not be Kate. But it couldn’t be her half sister, she reasoned. Her father wouldn’t be here if Kate had been found. Then what was going on in the tent?

Robbie got closer to the crime-scene tape. Marked and unmarked police cars were parked helter-skelter in the street and on the grass. She saw uniformed cops, crime-scene technicians. A diver was talking to a woman wearing denim Capri pants and a light blue short-sleeved shirt. Lieber, out of her customary detective clothes, as though called here from off duty.

Robbie stared at the detective, willing Lieber to look in Robbie’s direction. She was desperate to know what had happened. The diver adjusted his gear and headed back toward the water. “Detective Lieber,” Robbie called out, not sure she could be heard over the helicopter noise.

But Lieber turned to Robbie’s voice, held up her hand to indicate she’d be right with her, then went over to a couple of uniformed cops.

Robbie waited, trying to calm her breathing. Her father was
still looking into the water, as though he could see down to its murky bottom.
There’s nothing I can do
.

“Robbie,” Lieber called. “Can you step over here? I just have a minute.”

Robbie joined Lieber under a shady ficus tree a short distance from the crime scene area. The helicopter cast a shadow over the water. It was difficult to hear anything with its noise all around them.

“What’s happened?” Robbie said. “My father’s here. Did something happen to Kate?”

Lieber shook her head. “No. Not Kate.” Her hair was clipped back, a strand of grayish brown escaping over her eye. She pushed it back. She looked haggard.

“Tell me. Please.” Sweat was dripping beneath Robbie’s T-shirt and shorts.

“We got a call early this morning,” Lieber said. “The body of a teenage girl was found in the creek, tangled in some mangrove roots.”

Robbie let out a gasp.

“It’s Joanne Sparks.”

“Oh, no.” Robbie covered her mouth with her hands. She remembered the photo of the girl on the “Missing” flyer—the narrow face and large nose that now would never mature into adulthood.

“Her parents came down from Deland a couple of days ago to search for her. They’ve identified Joanne’s body.” Lieber glanced back at the tent.

“Oh God. Joanne’s in the tent?”

“The ME is still examining the body.”

“And Joanne’s parents? They’re in there?”

Lieber shook her head. “They went back to their hotel. Joanne’s mother needed to be sedated.”

Joanne’s parents. Imagine identifying your eighteen-year-old dead daughter’s body. Eighteen. Her mom and dad should have been
preparing for their daughter’s high school graduation, filled with anxiety about her going away to college next year. Not this.

The muscles in Lieber’s face were tight. She opened her shoulder bag and fumbled inside. Then she closed the bag and flipped it behind her, apparently not finding what she’d been looking for.

“What condition—” Robbie said. “Her parents must have been—”

Lieber nodded, as though she understood what Robbie was trying to say. “Joanne hadn’t been in the water for very long.”

“Can you tell how she died?” Robbie asked.

“We won’t know for certain until we have the medical examiner’s report, but right now, it appears she drowned.”

“In Indian Creek? No one goes swimming in Indian Creek.”

“She could have fallen out of a boat, or been drunk. It’s best not to speculate until the medical examiner gives her report.” Lieber glanced at the cops and investigators huddling near the side of the creek. “I’m sorry, but I need to go.”

Robbie saw one of the divers climb up the bank. If Joanne had been found, what were they looking for? “Oh my God,” Robbie said. “Kate.” Robbie felt a tightening in her chest. “You think she may have drowned, too?”

“It’s possible. The last time they were seen, the girls were together. And, well, unfortunately, no one’s heard from Kate.”

Robbie glanced over to where her father had been standing earlier. He was gone. “Have you spoken to my father?”

“He came here with Joanne’s parents. He was very supportive, but then he became quite agitated.”

“Well, of course he was agitated,” Robbie said. “His daughter’s friend is dead and no one knows where Kate is.”

Lieber took in a short breath. “Like I told your father, we’re trying to understand what happened so we can take the appropriate action. And now, I really need to get back to my team.”

“But that could take hours or days. You can’t just assume Kate also drowned. What if she’s in some kind of trouble? Shouldn’t you be looking for her?”

“Look where?” Then her expression softened. “I know you’re concerned about Kate, but honestly, without the ME’s report on Joanne, we don’t have much to go on. All we have are questions. Had the two girls been together? Does Kate know what happened to Joanne? Was she involved?”

“Wait a minute. What do you mean involved?”

“I’m just saying there’s the question of why Kate hasn’t come to the police.”

“Maybe she can’t. What if this wasn’t an accident? And what if whoever did this to Joanne has done something to Kate?”

Lieber rested her hand on Robbie’s shoulder. “Go home, Robbie. You know I’ll do everything I can to find her.”

“I know.” Robbie was unable to meet Lieber’s eyes.

“And if you talk to your father,” Lieber said as she walked away, “tell him that we’re not a bunch of fat, lazy bureaucrats who are sitting on our asses while South Beach burns.”

Robbie watched Lieber join the group by the creek.

The helicopter swooped lower, scattering leaves and debris. Then it rose and drifted away into the sharp blue sky. The sound of droning became softer and softer and softer.

Robbie jogged back to her apartment. Breathing was difficult. Her sister’s friend was dead. It was tragic, but it only heightened Robbie’s sense of urgency to find Kate. But where could she be? And how was all this affecting their father?

Robbie ran upstairs. It was after nine, too late for the local news. She wondered if the TV cameras had captured footage for the early morning broadcasts. Would any of Kate or Joanne’s friends have seen it? And what about Kate? Could she have been watching from somewhere? Robbie logged onto her computer and went straight to Facebook. First she looked for a message from Kate Brooks. Nothing.

Then Robbie searched for Joanne Sparks. She was annoyed with herself for not having thought of this earlier. And there she was. Although the photo was different from the one on the police flyer, Robbie recognized the young, narrow face. Joanne was smiling, hugging a horse. Happy. Alive. Unlike Kate Brooks, Joanne had not blocked her profile. Just what Robbie had been hoping for.

She looked for messages on Joanne’s Facebook wall. Somehow, Joanne’s friends had already gotten the news of her death and set up a group to share their grief.

Oh no. This can’t be real . . . I love you Joanne . . . You can’t really be gone . . . you’ll always be in my heart
. . .

Robbie scrolled down the recent comments, hoping but not really expecting one from Kate Brooks, and finding none.

She went to Joanne’s photo albums, feeling a deep ache as she clicked through them. Joanne with the cheerleading squad. Joanne riding a tall dappled horse bareback, Joanne with her friends. And there was what Robbie had been looking for—a pretty blue-eyed girl with long dark hair—laughing with Joanne in photo after photo. Robbie held the cursor over one of the images. “Kate Brooks,” it said.

Robbie began going through the comments and photos more slowly, scrutinizing them for something that might provide a clue as to where Joanne and Kate had gone when they’d separated from the rest of their group last Friday. She scanned the comments written over a week ago on Joanne’s wall. There was the familiar arrowhead picture, the one Kate Brooks used for her own profile.

South Beach here we come. Woo-woo!
Kate had written. Then something more cryptic.
We’ll return broken, but fixed
.

There was a knock on the door. Not Brett’s knock, but the same tentative tap Robbie had heard three days ago. Her stomach twisted. So he’d come to see her after all.

She looked out the kitchen window. Her father was pacing. Then he perched on the catwalk railing and tapped his foot impatiently. He wore cordovan penny loafers, just like she remembered from her childhood. He used to let her put the pennies in when he got a new pair.

Robbie opened the door.

His gray hair was disheveled and there were large perspiration stains on his white shirt. He moistened his lips with his tongue before he spoke. “Hello, Roberta. Can we talk for just a minute?”

“Sure.” She leaned against the open door so he could pass.

He seemed surprised that she was offering her apartment. “Thank you.”

She gestured toward the small oak table in the kitchen.

He sat down on one of the two chairs and took in the mother and daughter salt and pepper shakers on the table, the undersized stove and sink, and the toaster oven, butcher block with assorted knives, and coffee maker that sat on the white countertop.

“Would you like coffee or some water?” Robbie asked.

“Water would be great.”

She handed him a bottle from the refrigerator.

“Thanks.” He took a long swallow.

“I saw you at the creek,” Robbie said.

“I figured. I saw you talking to that detective.”

“Judy Lieber.”

“That’s right. Lieber.” He picked up the mother and daughter shakers and tapped their ceramic heads together lightly.

“She told me you’d gone to the creek with Joanne’s parents. That you were a big comfort to them.”

“I’ve known Joanne all her life,” he said, putting the shakers down on the table. “She and Kaitlin were best friends.”

“I’m sorry.” Robbie pulled out the other chair and sat down across from him.

“I wish I knew what to do,” he said. “Where to look for her. I’ve checked all the local hospitals and she’s not at any of them. If only I could be sure she’s all right.” He took another gulp of water. His face was pale. “I’m very angry with the police. I said some insulting things to that detective. I hope she doesn’t hold that against Kaitlin.”

“I’m sure she won’t. Detective Lieber understands you’re upset.”

“But why aren’t they doing more to find her?” He put his head in his hands.

She thought about the night so many years ago at the river. How sad he was.
Come give your old man a hug
, he’d said. She wanted to touch his shoulder now, but held back. “I think when they get the medical examiner’s report, they’ll at least have something to go on.”

He lifted his head. “You’re right, of course. I’m just so damn worried.”

“Of course you are.”

He twisted his wedding ring around his finger.

It occurred to Robbie for the first time that maybe he hadn’t come down to Miami by himself. That Kate’s mother was probably here with him. And the idea left her cold.

“You have to understand,” he said. “Kaitlin was my second chance.”

“Second chance for what?” she asked, tensing.

“Being a father. And now, what if I’ve lost her, too?”

But you haven’t lost me, Robbie wanted to scream. I’m right here. Instead, she said, “I’ve been trying to figure out what the girls were planning. Why they left the rest of their group.”

“You’ve been talking to Kaitlin’s friends?”

“No. I went on Facebook.” She touched the laptop screen. “I was able to get on Joanne’s page.”

“You can do that? Kaitlin’s always on her computer, but I never made much sense out of what she was doing.”