Karen Rose - I’m Watching You

„So did I.“ Zoe made a mental note to cancel it. If she hurried, she might have a story ready for the ten o’clock slot. She watched two cars pass, the first with Detective Mitchell at the wheel, accompanied by a man she didn’t recognize but fully intended to get to know much better. The other car was manned by Kristen Mayhew, driving solo. „That’s not her car.“

Scott yawned again. „So maybe she got a new one.“

„Are you kidding? That woman plans to drive her old Toyota into the ground and it still has a few good years on it.“ She shrugged when Scott’s head turned, his brows scrunched in a frown. „I know her mechanic. He tells me stuff.“

„Pillow talk,“ Scott said with a sneer and Zoe bit her tongue. Like it or not, she needed him to make the damn film.

Ignoring him, she pulled her mirror from her purse. Her makeup was still flawless. „Besides, the car had an Avis sticker in the window. Come on, we’re doing an interview.“

„With who? Your hero just drove away.“

Again Zoe bit back the retort. The day Mayhew was her hero… Meal ticket, maybe. Hero, never. „Haven’t you been paying attention? She visits three houses with Detective Mitchell. Aren’t you the least bit curious as to why?“

„I’m sure you’ll tell me,“ Scott drawled, and the tips of her nails bit into her palms.

„Records says that this house belongs to Eileen Dorsey. The last house was Janet Briggs, the one before that Sylvia Whitman. Three victims of Anthony Ramey,“ she said and watched his eyes widen. Scott wasn’t stupid, just a man who foolishly believed a single night of sex months ago should become an ongoing relationship and was mad because it hadn’t. „So you do watch the news,“ she said, swallowing a smirk.

Scott straightened. „Ramey never went to jail. He’s either reoffended or he’s dead.“

Zoe slid out of the van and tugged at her skirt. „Well, let’s go find out which.“

Thursday, February 19,

6:30 P.M.

„Kristen, so good to see you.“ Vincent pulled a brown bag from behind the counter. „You’re order’s ready.“ Vincent had worked for Owen for as long as she’d been coming to the diner. A sweet, unassuming man. Everybody loved Vincent.

A loud crash had them both wincing. „Another new cook?“ Kristen asked.

Vincent sighed. „I give this one two days. Tops.“

Owen had hired so many cooks in the last month, Kristen stopped trying to remember their names. „Any news from Timothy?“

„Nope. Wish his grandma would get better, though. Owen’s been fit to be tied lately, dealing with all those new fry cooks.“

„Maybe we could get Timothy some help for his grandma and he could come back.“

Vincent shrugged. „We asked, but Owen says Timothy doesn’t want the help. You know how Tim is about accepting help anyway.“

Kristen nodded. „I know.“ A highly functional adult with Down’s syndrome, Timothy had a great deal of pride and independence. She could see him refusing Owen’s help.

„You know what?“ Owen came out of the back, drying his hands on the towel he kept tied around his thickening middle. He was solid and dependable and he made a hell of a chicken potpie. A smile creased his face when he saw her. „I missed you at lunch today.“

She made a face. „Peanut butter crackers.“

He scowled. „You’ll get sick if you don’t eat right.“

She crossed her heart. „I promise. I called in a take-out order.“

Owen scanned the order slip. „Three fried chickens and three chicken potpies?“

Kristen licked her lips. „Plus potatoes and gravy.“

„It’s all here. What’s going on tonight?“ Owen gathered the bag in his arms and started for the front door.

„Meeting. I offered to bring dinner.“ She held open the door and shivered while Owen stood in his shirtsleeves with hardly a tremble for the cold, looking around with a frown.

„My car.“ She pointed to the rental and his face changed to a beaming smile.

„You finally listened to me and got rid of that old thing.“

„It was not old. It was just well used.“ She opened the rear passenger door and he put the bag on the seat.

„It was a bucket of bolts that Vincent prayed for daily. We worried about you driving around at night in that rust heap.“

„This is just a rental. Mine’s in the shop.“ Kristen bit her lip over the little white lie.

The scowl returned. „Bucket of bolts, Kristen. It’s going to leave you stranded on the side of the road some night and…“ He shook his head, disgusted. „Stubborn girl.“

„With no monthly car payment. Go in out of the cold, Owen. You’ll get sick.“

Thursday, February 19,

7:00 p.m.

„Where’s Spinnelli?“ Mia tossed her jacket onto a chair at the same table they’d used the night before. Abe saw that someone had set up a whiteboard for their use as they cataloged evidence. A young woman in a white lab coat already sat at the table, and Jack’s coat hung on the back of the chair next to her although Jack was nowhere to be seen. The woman rose and extended her hand.

„I’m Julia VanderBeck,“ she said as she shook his hand. „I’m the ME.“

She was thirty-five or so with wide brown eyes and hair the color of coffee with heavy cream. She was pretty, he thought. He should be interested, he thought But all he could think about was ivory skin and green eyes and wild, curling hair.

„I’m Abe Reagan,“ he said. „Do you have all five bodies in your office?“

„Yes, I do, but if you don’t mind, let’s wait until everyone gets here so I don’t have to say it twice.“ The request was made politely, but wearily.

Mia dropped into her chair. „Where’s Spinnelli?“ she repeated. „And Jack?“

„We’re here,“ Spinnelli said, coming through the door, holding a casserole dish. „We have a visitor.“ His eyes were amused.

„Who’s welcome anytime,“ Jack added, his arms laden with Tupperware bowls.

Abe recognized the dishes and bowls even before he heard his mother’s voice, before she bustled into the room.

„Abe!“ She pulled his head down for a loud smacking kiss on his cheek and ignoring the grins of his co-workers, he let her do it.

„Mom.“ She smiled up at him, so happily that he didn’t have the heart to tell her she shouldn’t have. He smiled back. He’d wondered when she was going to show up. Sean said their father had told her not to come, but Becca Reagan generally followed her own mind. „What have you done?“

„Now don’t you be telling me I shouldn’t have,“ she clucked. „I called your Lieutenant Spinnelli to get your telephone extension and he kindly informed me that you all would be working late tonight so that I wouldn’t worry.“

Spinnelli lifted the cover from the casserole dish and Abe could smell his mother’s cabbage casserole from across the room. It was one of his favorites.

Spinnelli took a deep breath of appreciation. „Your mother offered to bring supper.“ He grinned. „How could I refuse?“

Abe leaned down and kissed his mother’s cheek. „Thanks, Mom.“ Her cheeks blushed, and he thought she looked as beautiful today as she had when he was a first-grader and she’d arrived at school with chocolate cupcakes on his birthday. „This is so sweet of you.“

„Sweet, my eye.“ She swept away to retrieve paper plates and plastic cutlery from the enormous handbag she was never without. „Couldn’t let you go hungry, now could I?“

Mia was leaning over the dish, sniffing. „Does it have meat?“

His mother looked affronted, then concerned. „Of course it does. You’re not a vegetarian are you, dear?“