Watch Them Die

by Kevin O'Brien

  She got to a point and suddenly couldn’t move any further. Her legs froze up on her. She stood in the middle of the block.

  Wide-eyed, she gazed down the line of cars parked along the curb. He didn’t seem to be hiding behind any of them. There was no sign of him by the dumpsters. Even the cat from a few minutes before had disappeared.

  Hannah kept absolutely still. She could hear a very faint mechanical humming. Was it his video camera?

  “Who’s there?” Hannah finally called in a shaky voice. “What do you want from me? Why are you doing this?”

  No response. Then, as muted as that mechanical hum, she thought she heard a man chuckling.

  A chill passed through her. She took a step back.

  A woman screamed in the distance behind her. Hannah swiveled around to see a young couple weaving down the sidewalk across the street. They were coming toward her. The woman’s scream turned to high-pitched laughter. She leaned against her boyfriend and kissed him.

  Hannah moved to the middle of the street. She ran in the direction of the young twosome. Passing them, she raced another two blocks toward home.

  She kept running, and didn’t look back.

  Eleven

  Paul Gulletti strolled into the classroom. He sat back on the edge of his desk and glanced at the clock on the wall. “I don’t think all of us are here yet,” he announced. “But let’s get started anyway….”

  Ben was seated behind Hannah’s empty desk. Since phoning her this morning, he’d left another message offering to walk her to class. She hadn’t returned either call.

  Yesterday evening, Hannah had said she would see him during class tonight. Was that her way of brushing him off? He wasn’t sure if he should be worried, or annoyed, by her absence.

  Still, he kept hoping that she’d show up. Paul Gulletti must have felt the same way. Ben noticed that as he spoke about tonight’s movie, Michelangelo Antonioni’s L’Avventura, Paul kept looking at the classroom door. He also seemed preoccupied with the vacant chair in front of Ben. Paul even locked eyes with him, then frowned and looked away.

  “I lost track of what I was saying,” Paul admitted, rubbing his chin.

  His assistant, Seth, cleared his throat. “You were talking about the missing girl,” he said, with a half-smile. “In the movie, Monica Vitti’s friend, who disappears…”

  Paul nodded. “Yes, that’s right,” he said, visibly annoyed. After stealing another glance at the door, he lectured for a few more minutes; then he cued Seth to start the film.

  While Seth dimmed the lights, Paul gathered up his notes and folder. He came down the aisle toward Ben. He turned and sat at the desk next to Hannah’s vacant spot.

  About ten minutes into the movie, Ben gave up hope that Hannah might arrive late. He decided he’d leave during intermission, then walk over to Hannah’s place and check in on her.

  “Do you know where she is?”

  Paul Gulletti caught him off guard. Ben blinked and stared at the teacher. Turning in his desk chair, Gulletti was leaning toward him—almost in a private huddle. “I’m sorry, what?” Ben asked in a hushed tone.

  “Do you know where Hannah is tonight?” Paul whispered.

  Ben shook his head. “Why are you asking me?”

  “I thought you two were friends or something. Last couple of classes, I saw you talking with her.”

  Ben frowned at him. “Well, we might have been talking with each other. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Really? Seemed to me the two of you were getting along pretty well.”

  “I wasn’t aware that we had an audience,” Ben replied. “In any event, I’m sorry. I can’t help you. I don’t know where Ms. Doyle is.”

  “Well, thank you, Mr.—um, I’m sorry. I forgot your last name.”

  “Sturges,” Ben said.

  Paul nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Sturges,” he said coolly. Then he turned forward to watch the movie.

  At the break, Ben grabbed his notebook and jacket, and started out of the classroom. He passed by Seth, who was leaning against the doorway.

  “Man, he sure hates your guts,” Seth remarked, with a lopsided grin.

  “What’s that?” Ben asked.

  “The Prof,” Seth said, peering over the top of his glasses toward the front of the classroom. Paul was once again seated on the edge of his desk. “He thinks you’re horning in on his girlfriend,” Seth said.

  “You mean Hannah? I didn’t know she was his girlfriend.”

  “Neither does she. But Paul is working on it. And in most situations, what the Prof wants, the Prof gets. What’s with you? Are you taking off?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a headache.”

  “Well, take care,” Seth said. He glimpsed over his shoulder at Paul once more. Ben followed his gaze.

  Paul Gulletti was glaring back at him.

  “Huh, ‘if looks could kill,’ right?” Seth whispered, smirking.

  Ben just nodded, then moved on down the corridor.

  “Read it again, Mom,” Guy said. He was sitting up in bed with a pillow behind his back. He took the Dr. Seuss book from Hannah’s hands and opened it to the first page. “Here, Mom. Do it again….”

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m so tired,” she groaned, pushing the book away. Seated on the edge of the bed, she slouched against the headboard. “I can hardly keep my eyes open. You read to me for a change. Tell me what’s in the pictures, and see how fast I fall asleep. We’ll pull the old switcheroo.”

  “Okay,” he said. His brow wrinkled as he studied the book in front of him. With his rash and the remnants of calamine lotion, Guy’s complexion was a bright pink against his blond hair. “The first pitcher is of this yellow guy in a big balloon, and he’s singing….”

  “Hmmm, that’s nice,” Hannah murmured.

  She was so tired. Yet as Hannah closed her eyes, she could once again see that man from earlier tonight, standing by the dumpsters, videotaping her. She tried to convince herself that she was safe now—with Guy at her side. The door and the windows were all locked. There would be no intruders tonight—unless, of course, the police paid her an unexpected visit.

  She was on borrowed time with them, and considered hiding out in some cheesy little hotel until Guy recovered.

  The thought of a cheesy hotel reminded her again of that scene from Casino. She was still worried about Britt ending up dead in some such place. Hannah had called her an hour ago. Britt had reported that she was fine: “I told you before, I’m spending the weekend with Webb. Jeez, quit worrying about me!”

  But Hannah couldn’t trust Britt to look out for herself. She didn’t trust Webb, either.

  Any notion of going to the police had been shot down by that detective on the phone three hours ago. That was just the tip of the iceberg, too. In addition to kidnapping and larceny charges, she’d forged documents and committed fraud. She was also implicated in three murders that she’d failed to report.

  All she wanted to do was run away. Maybe then the killings would stop. The police and the Woodleys’ private detective wouldn’t know where to look for her. But she had a sick little boy who had to stay at home in his own bed. Doctor’s orders.

  Besides, someone was out there, watching her every move. How did she expect to slip past him? Even if she moved to a tiny little desert town or a major city on the California coast, how could she be sure he wouldn’t follow her there?

  What in God’s name made her think she could nod off while her mind was going in a dozen different directions? She’d never felt so tired and on edge at the same time.

  Guy’s storytelling had diminished to some snoring.

  When Hannah opened her eyes, he was asleep with the book in his lap. She carefully climbed off the bed, stole the book from under his hands, then tucked him in. Just as she was switching off his nightstand lamp, someone buzzed from the lobby.

  Hannah flinched. Immediately, she thought of her stalker, and then, the police. For a moment, she couldn’t move.


  Guy stirred a little, but he didn’t awaken.

  The buzzer sounded again. Hannah hurried to the intercom. She glanced at her wristwatch: 9:40. This was no casual call. She pressed the intercom switch. “Hello?”

  “Hannah? It’s Ben Sturges.”

  Hannah let out a little sigh. At least it wasn’t the police. Still, she was perturbed. “Don’t you mean Ben Podowski?” she said into the intercom.

  “I can explain that—if you’ll let me come up.”

  She hesitated. The last person to drop by unannounced was Ronald Craig on the night he was murdered.

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” she said.

  “Couldn’t I see you for just a few minutes?” he asked.

  Hannah bit her lip. She didn’t feel safe letting him in while she was alone with Guy—and at night. “Listen,” she said. “I’m sorry. It’s late. I’ve already gotten ready for bed. If you need to see me, drop by the video store tomorrow. I take my break at two.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “I didn’t see you in class. I was worried.”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I just didn’t feel like going tonight, that’s all.” Then she remembered something. “Um, Ben? Was everyone else there—at class? Paul didn’t come late, did he?”

  “No, he was there on time. Why?”

  “I’m just curious. Was anyone else absent—or late?”

  “Well, I didn’t notice anybody else. I was mostly concerned about you. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes, I’m okay, thanks,” she said vaguely. She was thinking about that man videotaping her tonight. It had happened just around the time class was starting. If that figure in the shadows wasn’t Paul Gulletti or someone from the class, who was he?

  “Hannah? Are you still there?”

  “Listen, Ben, why don’t you come by the store tomorrow? I want you to.”

  “I’d like that,” he replied. “In the meantime, take care, okay?”

  “Good night.” She switched off the intercom. After a moment, she unlocked the door, opened it, and stepped out on the balcony. She folded her arms against the chill. The wind whipped through her hair. She gazed down at the lone figure heading down the street, away from her building.

  Ben didn’t look back over his shoulder.

  Hannah wondered if she’d done the right thing, sending him away. The lives of everyone around her suddenly seemed so tentative. She watched him walking in the distance, and she couldn’t help thinking he might be dead by tomorrow.

  “I hate to bug you on your day off, Tish,” Hannah said into the phone. “But I’m here alone.” She stood behind the counter at Emerald City Video. It was almost one o’clock in the afternoon.

  “Where’s Scott?” the store manager asked on the other end of the line. “Wasn’t he supposed to start at eleven today?”

  “Yeah. I’ve tried calling his place. I can’t even leave a message. I keep getting this stupid recording on his answering machine that says ‘Memory is full.’” Hannah tried to control the little tremor creeping into her voice—without much success. “Anyway, Tish, I think something’s happened. I’m really worried. Do you have another number we can call for him?”

  “No. We better get someone else to fill in.”

  “I tried Britt, but she’s spending most of this weekend with Webb. So I’m not surprised she isn’t answering. Cheryl and Victor are both due in at two.” Hannah sighed. “I’m okay here by myself for now, but I’m really worried about Scott.”

  She kept thinking about what he’d said the day before: I’m toast. I’m a fucking dead man…He’ll go after me next, I know it.

  “Well, we can’t be short a person today,” Tish said. “Not on a Friday. It’ll be N-U-T-Z, nuts. I’ll drag my ass over there. In the meantime, don’t worry about our Scott. He’s a big boy. Bet you a latte you’ll hear from him or he’ll show up before I make it to the store.”

  “I’ll take that bet,” Hannah replied. “And hope I lose.”

  Two hours later, they got the word from a friend of Scott’s that he was in the hospital.

  Tish gave Hannah the rest of the afternoon off so she could visit him at Group Health Hospital. The doctors estimated that Scott would be in isolation there for ten days.

  In the hospital gift shop, Hannah bought him some flowers and magazines. Before entering the corridor to Scott’s private room, she had to check in with a nurse stationed at the desk. The woman made her sign a form, then gave her a disposable smock and surgical mask to wear.

  When Hannah stepped into the small, dimly lit, beige room, Scott was curled up on top of the unmade bed. He wore one of those hospital gowns, the kind that make even the healthiest person appear sickly.

  Hannah cleared her throat. “Scott?”

  He lifted his head up, then squinted at her. His handsome face was flushed and covered with tiny red welts.

  “Oh, Jesus,” Hannah whispered. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault you’re in here. I should have been more careful washing up after being with Guy—”

  “Oh, relax,” he groaned. “Neither you nor Guy gave me the damn chicken pox. The doctor told me chicken pox has like a twenty-day incubation period. I was exposed a while back.” He sat up. “Speaking of exposed, can you see up my gown?”

  “My eyes are avoiding that area,” Hannah admitted. She set the magazines and flowers on a side table. Her mask seemed to be slipping, and she adjusted it. “I got you Vanity Fair, GQ, and People.”

  “Thanks,” he grunted, with a tired smile. “You’re sweet. I’m going out of my mind here. I can’t believe I have to stay in this place for another ten days. I guess it’s serious stuff when an adult gets the chicken pox.”

  Hannah glanced down at her hospital smock and pointed to her mask. “Tell me about it. Do you know how you might have been exposed?”

  As Scott moved over to the window, Hannah noticed the small abrasions on his arms and legs. The blinds were drawn, and he fiddled with the cord. “I think Guy and I caught them at the same time,” he said. “Remember about three weeks ago, that Saturday afternoon you brought him to the store? That lady with the Eeyore voice had her brat with her, and he was wearing pajamas. She said he was sick, and she wanted to get him some videos….”

  Hannah nodded. She recalled the little boy throwing several videos on the floor. Scott was picking up after him, and Guy tried to help. At the time, Hannah hadn’t been too alarmed about Guy being exposed to anything serious. People were always coming into the store to rent videos when they were sick. She didn’t think a mother would be stupid enough to bring in a kid with chicken pox. Of course, she was one to criticize. She’d been ready to take Guy on board a bus until her doctor put the kibosh on it.

  “Anyway, I think Guy and I got chicken pox from that little creep,” Scott went on. “So if you see that lady and her kid again, give them both a swift kick in the ass for me. The only good thing about all this is there’s a real cute intern here, and I think he plays on my team. Soon as this rash clears up, I’ll see if I can get him to give me a sponge bath.”

  “Too much information,” Hannah said. “Besides, that’s something a nurse or an orderly would do, not an intern. I know—from a couple of lengthy hospital stays.”

  “Did it freak you out when I didn’t show up at work today?” he asked.

  She nodded soberly. “A little.”

  “You thought I’d pulled a Sharon Stone in Casino, didn’t you? So what’s the plan? Are you going to the police?”

  Hannah shrugged and adjusted her mask again. “I can’t. I checked last night. It’s official. I’m wanted ‘for questioning’ in connection with kidnapping and larceny charges. They’re ready to throw the book at me. Anyway, no police. I’m on my own in this—especially now that you’ve been sidelined.”

  “Yeah, guess I’m not much use to you in here. Sorry to let you down.”

  “Oh, skip it. Just get well, sweetie.”

  “Would you do me a favor, Han?�
�� Scott asked. “Could you check on Britt for me? My buddy has left her a bunch of messages since early this morning, and he hasn’t heard back from her.”

  “Well, I talked with her around nine o’clock last night, and she was all right. She’s supposed to be with Webb, the Wonder Creep. I might have his number. I’ll check, and keep you posted. I’m pretty concerned about her myself.”

  “Thanks, Hannah.” He scratched his arm and frowned. “Listen. There’s something you should know. After you left last night, a woman came into the store, wanting to rent Psycho. When I went to get it for her, the case was there, but the tape was missing. Someone ripped it off, just like Casino.”

  Gazing at him, Hannah slowly shook her head.

  “It could be nothing,” Scott said. “But I figured you’d want to know. Be on your guard, okay? Your—um, secret admirer might soon be sending you another video valentine.”

  Outside Scott’s room, Hannah shed the smock and the surgical mask, then dumped them in a waste bin labeled “Biohazard.” Starting down the hall, she saw someone by the nurse’s desk, and she stopped dead.

  Ben put up his hand in a sort of half wave.

  Hannah took a deep breath and walked up to him.

  “Yeah,” he said, nodding glumly. “I followed you here from the store.”

  “Do you have any idea how creepy that is?” Hannah asked pointedly.

  “I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. Can we please talk?” He pulled out a folder he had tucked under his arm. “I have something I want to show you.”

  Hannah just sighed and started toward the elevator.

  Ben came up beside her. “I’ll go away and not bother you again if I’m wrong,” he said. “When that man was murdered the other night, did you know in advance something like that was going to happen?”

  Hannah stopped. Her eyes searched his.

  “Did you see it happen beforehand—in a video?”

  Hannah kept staring at him. She swallowed hard. “Where do you want to talk?” she asked.