Someone's Watching (10 page)

Robbie poured cranberry juice into the glass, then started on a martini. Maddy returned for the vodka. She was fast but imprecise as she mixed the drinks and a couple of times she got the ingredients wrong. Although it bothered Robbie, she forced herself to overlook it. Maddy needed this job.

“This woman who lives next to us watches him,” Maddy said, as
though she’d read Robbie’s mind. “Eric likes her and she works for practically nothing.”

“What’s her name?” Robbie asked.

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Never mind.” Robbie brought the drinks to her customers.

A large group came in and Robbie and Maddy worked side by side.

“The guy with the cap—he your boyfriend?” Maddy asked, as she put a drink down on the bar.

“What?” Robbie turned and realized Maddy was referring to Puck. He looked away when she caught his eye.

“No,” Robbie said.

“Oh.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. He’s like been watching you the whole time.”

“Really?”

“Not in a weird way, or anything, that’s why I figured he was your boyfriend.” Maddy overfilled a martini glass, ignoring the spillage on the bar. “He’s kind of cute.”

“Nope. Not a boyfriend. Just a customer.”

But Robbie felt a little spooked. Maybe Puck’s coming here every night wasn’t all that benign. She went over to him. “Everything okay?”

“I wouldn’t mind another Heineken.” Puck smiled. Friendly, not crazy.

Robbie relaxed. “Sure.”

She brought him the beer.

“I was watching you work,” he said. “You’re good.”

“Thanks.” The door opened and more people swarmed in. “Sorry,” she said. “Excuse me.”

Even with Maddy beside her, the pace became frenzied as the bar filled to capacity. Robbie focused on filling drink orders, but she could tell that Maddy was overwhelmed. Eventually Maddy let Robbie fix anything more complicated than a rum and coke or vodka and soda.

Maddy went home at two, but Robbie hardly missed her.

At a little before four, Robbie closed out her register, while the lumberjack-sized security guard went around telling the few remaining customers it was closing time. Puck sat alone at the bar finishing his Heineken.

“Well good night,” Robbie said, waving to Puck.

“Night,” he said.

Robbie stepped outside, taking deep breaths of the warm early morning air, clearing her lungs of stale cigarette smoke. She’d go straight home, take a quick shower, climb into bed, and sleep until the afternoon.

She noticed the homeless woman who always watched her bike was passed out on her bench, an empty bottle of vodka beside her. Poor Zelda. She’d been so proud of staying off alcohol and drugs. Maybe things had gotten too much for her.

Robbie went to unlock her bicycle, immediately noticing something was wrong. The tires were flat. Both of them. How was that possible? She bent over to see better. Slashed. She kicked the bicycle frame in rage. “Oooooo.” She pulled at her hair. “Ooooo.”

“What’s happened?” Puck asked, hurrying toward her from the door of the bar.

She pointed at the bike.

Puck got down on his knees and examined the tires. “Looks like they were slashed with a knife.”

“Why would someone do something so hurtful?” Robbie said. “I understand stealing a bike for profit, but vandalizing it? Who gains from such a thing?”

Puck shook his head. He looked miserable, as though it had happened to him. “Do you want to call the cops?”

“What can they do? I’ve already had two bicycles stolen. They’ll probably tell me to be grateful that they left my bike this time.”

Puck stood up slowly. He took his cap off, smoothed his hand over his bald pate as though he still had hair, then stuffed the cap into his back pocket. “May I give you a ride home?”

Robbie’s antennae shot up. “I thought you didn’t have a car.”

“I decided to rent one.”

Puck was probably a perfectly nice guy, but he was still a stranger. “Thanks, but I can call a cab.”

Instead of getting insulted, he nodded. “Good. You shouldn’t let men you meet at the bar know where you live.”

“It’s nothing personal.”

“I understand. Really. I’d be more concerned if you accepted a ride from me.” He ran the open palm of his hand over the handlebar. “But would you allow me to take your bike and get the tires fixed?”

“Thank you. That’s very sweet, but I’ll manage.”

“How? Do you have any means of conveying it?”

“I, I don’t know, but I’ll figure out something.” Robbie felt drained suddenly—a missing sister, three shifts of work and lack of sleep catching up with her. She just wanted to go home and not have to deal with any of this.

“Let me do this for you, Robbie. Please.”

What harm? “Well, thank you, Puck.” She unlocked both locks and disengaged them from the bike. “I don’t know what to say. I really appreciate this.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He smiled like a kid whose parents have agreed to let him stay up past his bedtime. “My car’s just over there. I’ll pull it over.”

Robbie phoned for a taxi as she watched him run across the street and climb into a large black SUV. He backed the car up, got
out, then hoisted the bike easily into the rear compartment. He was much stronger than he looked.

“I’ll bring it to the lounge tomorrow after I get it fixed,” he said, as he slammed the rear door shut. “Is that okay?”

“That’s great. Thank you.”

They stood in silence, waiting for the taxi. Occasionally, she heard the sound of car wheels on pavement swishing by in the distance. A couple of cars drove slowly down the street. Neither of them the taxi.

Puck had taken his cap out of his back pocket and was wringing it, reminding her of a teenager on a first date.

Why was he doing this for her? But Robbie was too tired to analyze. She just wanted to get into bed and let these last few days be over. The taxi arrived a few minutes later. Robbie said goodbye and climbed in.

Puck stepped into the street in his clumsy sweatshirt and baggy pants watching her go.

Robbie leaned against the backseat of the taxi, the bar lock and chain in her lap. Puck was just a nice guy, she decided. A genuinely nice guy.

How strange that seemed. But how reassuring to know that in a world where shitty things happened, there were still people who cared.

On Friday, at one in the afternoon, annoying beeping sounds woke Robbie up. She reached for her phone. Text message from Leonard.
Someone brought your bike here. The lounge is not a goddamn storage facility
.

And there was a voice mail from Detective Lieber. Robbie held her breath as she listened. But Lieber was only calling to see if Robbie could meet her and Robbie’s father at three p.m. at Monty’s Raw Bar to discuss the medical examiner’s report.

Robbie called Lieber back, left a message that she’d be there, then took a taxi over to the lounge to retrieve her bike.

Leonard had locked the bike in the office before he left for the afternoon. At first, Robbie thought it was someone else’s. It had two new tires and someone had polished it so it looked like it came out of a showroom. She couldn’t believe that Puck had gone to so much trouble for her.

She got to Monty’s Raw Bar by the Miami Beach Marina a little before three. The Friday after-lunch crowd at the outdoor restaurant was thin—a few boaters, some locals in cutoffs and flip-flops, and a table of men in rolled-up shirtsleeves with ties loosened around their necks, as though they’d decided to make a day of this.

She sat down at a picnic-style table beneath the overhang. The downtown Miami skyline was in a haze on the other side of the broad bay. The view was not that different from the apartment she used to
share with Jeremy. But of course, it would be about the same—the SOBE Grande was only a few blocks north of here. She wondered what Jeremy was doing. He hadn’t called since they’d met near the pier on Monday, four days ago.

Four days. Well, he had made a life for himself—just like she’d asked him to—so what did she expect?

“Can I get you something?” asked a waitress in a T-shirt and shorts.

Robbie glanced back into the restaurant, then along the outside path beside the bay that ran from the parking garage. No sign of her father or Detective Lieber.

“A diet Coke with lemon, I guess,” Robbie said. The waitress nodded and went to the table with the guys in ties.

Lieber had mentioned in the voice mail that it was Robbie’s father’s idea that Robbie join them. That surprised Robbie, especially after their awkward parting at her apartment two days ago. She’d seen him on the TV news making a plea to whoever knew the whereabouts of his daughter, Kaitlin, to please get in touch with the police or call him directly. He’d even given his cell phone number.

“Please send my daughter home to me safe and sound,” he’d said, his drawn face grotesquely large on the TV that was perched on the dresser in Robbie’s bedroom. “And Kaitlin, honey. Remember that I love you.”

The waitress put the soda on the table with a straw and menu.

Robbie pulled the paper off the straw and took a sip of her drink. She squinted into the sun. A man in a billed cap was walking toward the marina carrying a bucket, probably with live bait. She remembered that this was where Puck had his boat docked. She strained to see if the man was Puck, but he was moving too quickly for her to tell.

Someone came up to the front of her table, blocking the sun and her view.

“Hello, Roberta,” her father said. He must have come up from the path on the right. He was wearing a light blue polo shirt that was a size too large for him and had new-shirt creases. She guessed that he’d run out of clothes from home and had bought some new ones. “Mind if I sit down?”

“Of course not.”

He slid onto the bench opposite her. She was still taken aback by his face, expecting something else. She tried to picture him holding her small hand in his large one, leaning across her bed to kiss her good night. But she no longer had a clear recollection of what he had looked like when she was a child.

The guys in ties were laughing too loudly.

“I saw you on the news,” Robbie said.

Her father ran his tongue over his dry lips. “No response yet.”

“I figured or you would have called me.”

He picked up the paper from her straw and rolled it between his fingers.

“It was good what you did,” Robbie said. “If Kate saw it, she’d be happy to know how much you love her.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and covered them with his hand. Then, he took his hand away and gave her a small smile. “Thank you for saying that.”

Lieber came up the outside steps, noticed them, and took a seat on the bench next to Robbie’s father. She put her battered leather case down on the table. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” She was wearing an outdated pantsuit with shoulder pads and a sheen to the fabric from too many dry cleanings.

The waitress left a pitcher of beer with the guys in ties, then came over to take their orders.

“Just coffee.” Lieber’s brown eyes seemed more recessed and shadowed than the other day. “Black.”

The waitress looked at Robbie’s dad and waited.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He glanced at Robbie’s Coke. “I’ll have one of those. Thank you.”

“I appreciate you both meeting me.” Lieber reached into the leather case and pulled out some papers. There was an unfamiliar formality in Lieber’s manner that Robbie attributed to her father’s presence. “As I mentioned on the phone, Dr. Brooks, I have a few questions for you. I also want to go over some things in the medical examiner’s report. I’ve already discussed this with Joanne’s parents. They know we’re talking. They’re willing to do anything that might shed light on what happened to their daughter.”

Robbie’s father sat a little straighter, his lips pressed together in a tight line.

“Apparently Joanne’s father knows the right people,” Lieber said. “He was able to persuade them to get us the results of the toxicology report in forty-eight hours. It can sometimes take several weeks.”

“Several weeks while my daughter goes missing? That’s outrageous and inept.”

“Well, it’s certainly frustrating when that happens. But since we were lucky enough to get the report on a timely basis, how about us reviewing the findings instead of making accusations?”

Robbie’s father flushed and looked away from Lieber.

“There are several items of particular note in the ME’s report that I want to share with you.” Lieber flipped through the papers in front of her. “First, the medical examiner found water in Joanne’s lungs.”

“So she did drown,” Robbie’s father said.

“Yes, Dr. Brooks.” Lieber folded her hands and brought them up to her chin. “Except there’s one problem. The water in her lungs was not seawater. It was chlorinated. That suggests she drowned in a swimming pool and was later taken to Indian Creek.”

“I don’t understand,” he said.

Robbie felt a rising nausea. She thought about the crowd gathered around the creek, the divers searching for a second body. “So it wasn’t accidental,” Robbie said. “Someone dumped her in the creek.”

“Actually,” Lieber said, “it’s possible she drowned accidentally and someone panicked and brought her body to the creek.”

“But this changes everything,” Robbie said. “Someone is covering up something.”

“If I may continue,” Lieber said, “there are a few other things I would like to tell you about. The medical examiner also found indications of a physical struggle and sexual activity.” Lieber lowered her eyes. “There’s evidence that Joanne had been a virgin.”

Robbie’s father was squeezing his hands together and his fingertips were white. “She was raped?”

“It’s a decided possibility.”

Robbie thought about the photo of the smiling girl hugging her horse. And now, what did this mean for Kate?

Lieber was flipping through the report. She looked up. “The third item of note was that a powerful sedative was found in Joanne’s body fluids. Flunitrazepam is usually sold as Rohypnol and known on the street as ‘roofies.’”

“‘Roofies’ are a date rape drug.” Robbie’s mind rushed forward to the possibilities. She thought about the bars and the club scene, the naïve underage kids who dressed up to appear older. “But I don’t get it,” Robbie said. “Let’s say Joanne had gone out partying and accepted a drink from the wrong person. I don’t understand how she could have drowned in a swimming pool, or why she would have been dumped in the creek.”