Watching

by Blake Pierce

  She gently disentangled herself from Rhea’s arms.

  “I’m sorry I scared you,” she said. “I’ll try not to do it again. Anyway, it’s late, and you should get some sleep. I should too. I’m going to take a shower.”

  Rhea nodded, seeming calmer now.

  Riley gathered up her pajamas and robe, turned off the light, and left the room.

  As she headed for the bathroom, a wave of exhaustion swept over her. It had been a long, strange, troubling day. She really needed to get some rest before tomorrow’s classes.

  But she somehow doubted she was going to sleep very well tonight.

  *

  A gunshot rang out.

  Little Riley was in the candy store again, and she could smell powder smoke.

  A bad man had just shot her mommy.

  She dropped her handful of candy and called out …

  “Mommy!”

  But when she looked at the crumpled figure on the floor, it wasn’t Mommy at all.

  It was another woman, younger than Mommy, and blood was pouring out of her throat. She was dead and her eyes were staring up at little Riley.

  And for some reason, as if she knew her from some other time or place, little Riley knew her name.

  “Rhea,” she said.

  She fought down her terror and turned around and looked up at the man with the stocking over his head.

  Smoke was still coming out of his pistol.

  “Who are you?” she demanded, trying not to sound like the little girl she was. “Show me your face.”

  The man stared at her through the stocking for a moment.

  Then he slowly pulled it off his head, and …

  It wasn’t a man at all.

  It was another woman.

  And little Riley knew who the woman was.

  It was Riley herself—all grown up!

  Riley was awakened from her nightmare by the sound of the room phone ringing.

  She opened her eyes and saw morning light streaming in through the window. Trudy lay sound asleep in her bed. Riley considered letting the phone ring until the answering machine kicked in. But the ringing and the sound of the outgoing message would surely wake up Trudy for no good reason.

  Riley climbed out of bed and answered the phone.

  A gruff male voice spoke to her.

  “Hey, girl.”

  Riley recognized the voice right away—and she wasn’t very happy to hear it.

  It was her father.

  But what was he doing calling her? He didn’t even have a telephone.

  He must be calling from a payphone in town.

  But why? she wondered.

  “Hi, Daddy,” she said.

  A silence fell.

  For a few seconds Riley wondered …

  Does either one of us have anything else to say?

  Things had been strained between them for many years.

  From time to time they both tried to reach out and mend fences, and Riley even visited him in his cabin in the Appalachian Mountains every year or so. They seldom really fought, but when they did things could get really bad. Try as both of them might, they were never quite comfortable together.

  “How are you doing?” Riley asked.

  She heard a long, familiar growl.

  “Well, you know how it is. It’s not deer season, so I’m fishing. Trout mostly. The fishing hasn’t been too bad.”

  The mention of fishing brought back scenes of fishing with her father, and also shooting smaller game—squirrels, crows, and groundhogs. Riley had no taste for hunting deer, so she never did that with him. The country around his cabin was beautiful, even if she felt uneasy in his company. He had bought the cabin soon after retiring as a Marine captain.

  It was lonely up there, especially during winters. But her father liked it that way. He’d always been a hard man who generally didn’t get along with people, and real bitterness had set in after Riley’s mother had been murdered.

  Another silence fell. Riley knew that it was her cue to say something about herself.

  But should she tell him what had happened during the last few days?

  How would he react?

  She said, “Daddy, there’s been a murder here. Right here in my dorm, on my floor. A girl I knew really well. Her throat was slashed. Nobody knows who did it.”

  There was more silence now. Riley wondered if he was going to say anything at all.

  “Well,” he finally said slowly, “you know how to watch out for yourself.”

  Riley felt oddly stung. It took a moment for her to realize why. She’d studied about this very thing in psychology—a problem called a “double bind,” when someone gave conflicting messages to someone else.

  And in this case, her father was definitely giving her conflicting messages.

  On one hand, he was letting her know that she wasn’t worthy of his worry and concern. On the other hand, he was telling her that she was tough like he was, and maybe he even admired her a little.

  Riley simply had no way of harmonizing those two messages. At least her studies helped her understand why that was so troubling.

  Then her father asked, “What’s your major these days?”

  Riley swallowed down her irritation. She knew what was coming. They’d had this talk before.

  “Psychology,” she said.

  “That’s no good,” he said, “You should think about changing majors.”

  Riley felt an urge to explain why he was wrong. But an old, familiar instinct kicked in to stop her.

  If she told him the truth—that she liked studying psychology, and besides, this was the second semester of her senior year and it was too late to change—he would lose his temper and the call would end badly.

  “I’ll think about it, Daddy,” she lied, hoping that resolved the issue.

  But she sensed that the conversation was already taking an unpleasant turn.

  He said, “Girl, it’s time you figured something out. You’re just not cut out for a normal life. There’s no point trying to fit in, trying to live and work like other people do. It’s not in your blood. It’s not in your nature.”

  Now Riley felt on the verge of losing her temper.

  She’d heard this speech lots of times—and it was the double bind all over again.

  Was her father telling her that she was somehow exceptional and destined to do great things in life?

  Or was he just telling her that she was some kind of freak?

  She certainly didn’t know. She felt pretty sure he didn’t know either.

  Anyway, it was time to end the conversation.

  “It was nice of you to call, Daddy,” she said. “I’ve got to go get ready for class.”

  Yet another silence fell.

  As she often did, Riley sensed that her father was struggling to find words to say something he desperately wanted to say, but just couldn’t.

  “OK,” he finally said. “Write to me from time to time.”

  The call ended. Riley sat there feeling sad and empty—and also worried.

  Those words echoed through her head …

  “You’re just not cut out for a normal life.”

  Her father had told her that many times, and she’d usually managed to ignore it.

  But now, after what had happened last night, she couldn’t help but wonder …

  Is he right?

  After such a rocky childhood and teenage years, she had sometimes desperately craved the kind of normalcy she saw everywhere in the world around her—a husband, children, a stable career, a comfortable future.

  But now she couldn’t help but feel that things had changed, literally overnight.

  What did it mean that she found it so easy, so compelling, to empathize with a murderer, to see the world through his eyes, however briefly?

  Riley tried to shake off her worry.

  It was time to get ready for her day.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  As Riley sat at her desk trying to read her text
book for Professor Hayman’s class, her mind kept drifting to a different book, the one sitting in her desk drawer—Dark Minds: The Homicidal Personality Revealed, by Dexter Zimmerman.

  She knew she really should have returned it to Professor Hayman by now. He’d lent it to her two weeks ago, and she’d read it three times. He hadn’t asked for it back—in fact, he hadn’t talked to her about it at all. Maybe he’d forgotten that he’d lent it to her.

  Even so, it seemed wrong to just hang onto something that wasn’t hers.

  Surely I don’t plan to read it again, she thought.

  But the spell of the book kept drawing her back into the strange and forbidden worlds that it described in detail.

  Why would I be drawn to homicidal personalities? she wondered.

  Why is it interesting to learn about awful human beings? Why do I want to know about what made them that way?

  She realized that she was even more interested in how they got caught, and in why it took so long for some of them to be caught.

  At least that’s got to be a healthy interest, she told herself.

  Even so, she was sure than none of her friends shared any part of her fascination.

  In fact, her roommate, Trudy, was the reason the book was stuck away in the desk drawer. When that book had been sitting out on Riley’s little bookshelf, Trudy had shuddered visibly every time she noticed it.

  Obviously, the mere sight of Zimmerman’s book had made Trudy uncomfortable, so Riley had hidden it away.

  But why was she hanging onto it?

  Riley’s thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of her phone, and she wondered who it could be. She seldom got calls from anybody here in her dorm room. She hoped it wasn’t her father again—talking to him once every few months was more than enough for her.

  She kept remembering what he’d said the last time she’d talked to him …

  “You’re just not cut out for a normal life.”

  She sure didn’t need to hear any more of that kind of thing right now, especially with her questions about that book rattling around in her head.

  She decided to let the phone ring. The outgoing message tape played, with Trudy’s voice explaining that she and Riley couldn’t come to the phone but if the caller left a message they would return the call.

  At the sound of the beep, a short silence followed. Riley guessed it was someone tentatively trying to decide whether to leave a message or not.

  Then came a male voice.

  “Uh … I’m calling for Riley Sweeney. Riley, you probably don’t even remember my name, but …”

  Riley smiled.

  Of course she remembered his name.

  It was Ryan Paige.

  She picked up the phone and said, “Hey.”

  “Um, this is Ryan. Ryan Paige. We met a couple of weeks ago.”

  Riley tried to act a little surprised.

  “Oh, yeah. I remember. What’s up?”

  “Well, I was just kind of thinking about what to do over the weekend, and I kind of wondered if you might want to get together. Maybe for dinner and a movie. I hear The Matrix is good. Have you seen it?”

  “No,” Riley said.

  Then she said nothing. She felt a bit guilty to realize that she was enjoying his awkwardness, but she still waited for him to continue.

  Finally he said, “What do you think?”

  “Sounds nice,” she said.

  There was another pause. Then before she could think about it, Riley blurted …

  “What are you doing tonight? I mean, maybe we could just have a drink or something.”

  She felt her face redden with embarrassment.

  How uncool was that?

  But there was no taking it back. She was glad Ryan couldn’t see her face.

  “I’d like that,” he said. “How does Pooh-Bah’s Pub sound to you?”

  Riley was a little startled. Pooh-Bah’s was an upscale bar that she and her friends never really thought about going to. But if that was what Ryan wanted …

  “Sure,” she said.

  “OK,” he said. “When do you want me to pick you up?”

  He’s got a car! Riley thought.

  Trying to regain her cool, she said, “How about eight-thirty? I’ll be through studying by then.”

  “That sounds fine with me. I’ll call you when I get there.”

  Call me? Riley wondered.

  Then she realized …

  He’s got a cell phone too.

  Finally Ryan said, “I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

  “Yeah, I—I’m looking forward to seeing you too.”

  She hung up, still feeling thoroughly embarrassed.

  “What are you doing tonight?” she’d asked.

  What did she think she was doing? Since when had she been overeager like that?

  But she quickly rationalized …

  Maybe it was a smart thing to do.

  After all, tonight would be no big deal—just a chance to find out if she and Ryan hit it off, minus all the formalities like a movie and dinner. It would be easier to break it off early if she wanted to. And then Riley could decide whether she liked him enough to bother going on a real date with him.

  But then she worried …

  What if I like him but he doesn’t like me?

  She groaned aloud.

  She really couldn’t win either way. It was either go on a semi-date tonight that might end badly for her, or spend the whole rest of the week in suspense about how a real date was going to go.

  Anyway, she still had some studying to do before Ryan came to get her. She opened her book to where she’d left off before the call.

  But now she had a hard time concentrating—not from apprehension about her almost-date. She was worried about somebody else.

  Trudy.

  Trudy had gone to the library after dinner, which ought to have been no big deal. But lately, even that was a big deal. Riley’s roommate really hadn’t been her old sprightly self in the two weeks since Rhea’s murder.

  She’d been sticking to a strict, restrictive routine. She went to her classes, and to lunch and dinner at the student union, but almost nowhere else, ever. She spent the rest of her time holed up in her room, sometimes studying, sometimes just sitting quietly, staring into space or down at her own hands. She seldom even played the pop diva music that usually annoyed Riley so much.

  Riley knew that she hadn’t been her own self lately, either. But she was working on getting back to normal. She wasn’t completely successful, but at least she wasn’t letting what had happened to Rhea completely disrupt her life.

  Riley had been glad when Trudy announced that she was going out to the library for a while. She’d even cautiously told Trudy so, although she was careful not to make too big a deal out of it—Trudy was awfully touchy these days.

  But now she couldn’t help but wonder how Trudy’s little outing was going.

  Was she feeling overwhelmed and discouraged?

  Riley tried to remind herself that she wasn’t responsible for Trudy’s emotional well-being. She knew that Trudy had been spending some time with the campus counselors, and it was up to them to help her get over this. But so far, they didn’t seem to be doing a lot of good—at least as far as Riley could tell.

  Riley glanced at her watch and saw that time was slipping by. She needed to finish studying quickly and get dressed to go out with Ryan.

  A sort-of date, she thought as she turned the pages of her textbook. Does that mean things actually are getting back to normal?

  Finishing up her senior year and getting through graduation would be stressful enough.

  Surely there would be no more terrible things happening.

  But as for things getting back to normal, Riley couldn’t help but wonder …

  Is there any such thing as “normal” anymore?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It was getting dark by the time Trudy started home from the library. She really hadn’t gotten any studying
done there, but that hadn’t even been the point, really.

  She was proud of herself for what she had done. For a while she had looked over a selection of newly acquired books on a shelf. Then she had sat down and leafed through some of her class notes.

  And now she even had the good sense to be amused at her own pride at accomplishing those minuscule tasks. She knew that amusement was a good sign.

  At that moment, Trudy was feeling a little better about herself.

  This simple outing had been her counselor’s idea. An evening trip to the library was supposed to be a way for Trudy to test herself, to try to conquer her fears.

  “Baby steps,” Trudy’s counselor kept saying.

  But right now, this didn’t seem much like a baby step.

  More like a “giant leap,” she thought.

  Still, Trudy tried to convince herself that it was necessary. She kept remembering what Riley had said not long after Rhea’s murder …

  “We can’t live like this—always afraid something awful might happen.”

  It was true, of course. Trudy knew that she needed to snap out of the chronic fearfulness that seemed to rule her life these days.

  So she’d taken a few baby steps, or made that first giant leap, however anybody wanted to think of it.

  Even so, she realized that she was walking along the lighted campus paths rather briskly, at a much faster pace than usual. Even the sight of other students walking not too far away wasn’t as reassuring as she’d thought it would be. Every slight shadow between buildings or dark spot behind shrubbery seemed threatening.

  She told herself that surely no murderous monster was lying in wait anywhere nearby, not while the campus was still fairly active.

  Trudy realized that she was losing touch with the bit of self-satisfaction she’d just experienced back at the library. But somehow she couldn’t make herself feel better.

  What if the other students in sight went away? What if everybody else suddenly disappeared and left her alone on the maze of pathways, a perfect target for a murderous monster?

  She knew that her thoughts were irrational, but she had lost control over them now.

  By the time she was about halfway to the dorm, Trudy’s heart was pounding and she was almost hyperventilating. She wondered now—what had been the point of trying to test herself like this?