Someone Is Watching

by Joy Fielding

  “You ever think your mother might be right about your watching too much television?”

  It’s Jade’s turn to shrug, which I have to admit she does magnificently, her whole body seemingly engaged. We finish our scrambled eggs and toast. I go into the kitchen and pour myself another cup of coffee.

  “So, who called last night?” she asks as I return to the dining room.

  “What?”

  “Was it Heath?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “What do you mean—what am I talking about? I fell asleep around midnight—in the middle of a Law and Order episode I’ve seen, like, five hundred times—and the phone woke me up about, I don’t know … two o’clock?”

  I feel my adrenaline starting to pump. Every hair on my body seems to be standing on end. My hands are shaking. “You heard the phone ring?”

  “There’s a phone on the desk right beside my head. How am I not gonna hear it?”

  I burst into a flood of grateful tears.

  “Bailey, what’s going on?”

  I tell her about all the mysterious phone calls I’ve been getting, the dial tone that regularly greets me when I lift the receiver to my ear, my suspicions that these calls are all in my head.

  “You do know you can punch in star 69, that you can check the phone’s history.” Jade regards me as some sort of alien being.

  “I do that … usually. It keeps coming up ‘Unknown caller.’ At first I thought it might be Travis.…”

  “Who’s Travis?”

  “Or Heath.”

  “You really think your brother would be crank-calling you? Why would he do that?”

  “He wouldn’t,” I tell her with more certainty than I feel. I no longer know what Heath might or might not do, or why.

  Jade’s eyes suddenly open wide, any hint of sleepiness vanishing. She jumps to her feet.

  “What?” I hold my breath, as if I know what she’s about to say.

  “Do you think it could be Paul Giller?”

  This isn’t the first time I’ve considered this possibility. “It could be,” I concede, resuming my pacing, an action Jade mimics on her side of the table.

  “It makes sense. It’s how he’d make sure you’d be watching.”

  I stop, turn toward her. “What do you mean?”

  “Last night, one of the questions my mother asked was how he’d know you’d be watching. Well, if he phoned you, deliberately woke you up.… Think, Bailey. Did anyone call just before you saw him beat and rape his girlfriend?”

  I think back to that night, rewinding the reel in my head and playing back the night’s events in reverse order, first the rape, then the beating, then the phone call that woke me up, that started everything. “Yes. Yes, it did.”

  “And the other times?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t remember.” They happened too long ago for me to be sure.

  “He knows you’ve been watching him, so he decides to use it to his advantage,” Jade continues, thinking out loud. “He phones you, wakes you up, figures you’ll see his lights are on and, being both naturally curious and a detective, you’ll probably start watching.…”

  “But that doesn’t answer your mother’s other question, how he’d know when I was alone.…”

  This stops Jade cold. “Okay, okay. So, I haven’t figured it all out yet. But I will. We will.”

  I walk around the other side of the table and take her in my arms, hug her tight against me. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being here. For believing me. For making me scrambled eggs.”

  “They’re my specialty.”

  —

  Jade is standing in front of my bedroom window, dressed in jeans and a white hoodie, binoculars in hand, staring toward Paul Giller’s apartment when I finish my shower. “You’re not supposed to be doing that,” I tell her, securing my terry cloth robe around me as I exit the bathroom.

  “No, you’re not supposed to be doing that,” she corrects. “My mother didn’t say anything about me.”

  “See anything?”

  “I think I saw him getting ready to go out. It’s hard to make anything out in this light, especially with all the rain. I’m thinking maybe we should start building an ark.”

  I check the clock on the nightstand beside my bed. It’s almost nine o’clock. The phone rings.

  “Don’t answer it,” Jade says, rushing to my side to check the caller ID. “Shit. It’s my mother. You better pick up.”

  “What do I tell her?”

  “That I left for school ten minutes ago.” She returns to the window.

  I pick up the receiver. “Yes, she left a few minutes ago,” I tell her. “She made me the most wonderful scrambled eggs.”

  “Shouldn’t have told her that,” Jade says as I replace the receiver. “You’re ruining my reputation. Oh, wait. He’s leaving.”

  I’m right behind her, peering over her shoulder. “I can’t see anything.”

  “Here,” she says, handing me the binoculars and walking toward the bedroom door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To check out his apartment.”

  “What? No! Wait! You can’t do that.”

  “Of course I can. Bet you anything he has the same shit locks you used to have.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  She stops. “There’s nothing to worry about, Bailey. I’ll be in and out before anybody even knows I’m there.”

  “But what are you going to do?”

  “Just have a quick look around. See if I can find anything the police might have missed during their supposedly thorough search of the premises.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “You gonna chase after me in your bathrobe?” She is already halfway down the hall.

  “Jade!”

  “Keep watching. I’ll call you when I get there.”

  “Jade!”

  But she’s already gone.

  —

  Fifteen minutes later, my phone rings. “I’m in the building,” my niece says, and I picture her inside the sparsely furnished lobby, her hoodie pulled up over her head as she whispers into her cell phone. “I’m absolutely drenched. I had to wait about ten minutes, till I could sneak in as someone was coming out. I’m waiting for an elevator right now, dripping all over the damn place.”

  “This is crazy, Jade. It’s too dangerous. If you get caught, they’ll send you back to Juvenile Hall.”

  “I won’t get caught. Just keep watching the apartment. I’ll turn a light on when I get inside, so you can see what’s happening.”

  “No. Just come back.…”

  “The elevator’s here. The doors are opening.…”

  “Make sure you keep your phone on,” I instruct.

  “Uh-oh. Someone’s getting on with me,” she says just before the line goes dead.

  —

  “Hi,” Jade says approximately a minute later.

  “What the hell happened?” I cry into the phone.

  “Sorry about that. I forgot to charge the battery, so it’s kind of low, and elevators are always dicey anyway. And then this old guy got on with me, and I didn’t want to call you back until he got off, which wasn’t till the twenty-fifth floor.”

  “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

  “There’s really nothing to worry about. Just don’t freak out if we get cut off again.”

  “I’m freaking out already.”

  “Well, don’t. I know what I’m doing. I learned from the best, remember?”

  “This isn’t TruTV.”

  “No, it’s a hundred times better.”

  “Jade …”

  “I’m walking down the corridor,” she informs me, ignoring my concerns. “This building isn’t nearly as nice as yours.”

  “Just turn around and come home.”

  “I’m standing in front of his apartment.”

  “Don’t do this.”


  “Hang on a sec.”

  “Jade … Jade. Please …” I hear a succession of vague noises, followed by a few choice expletives. “Jade, what’s going on?”

  “Stupid lock is giving me a harder time than I expected.”

  “Then leave it and come home.…”

  “Just a few more tries.…”

  “Jade …”

  “Got it! I knew it. Piece of shit.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “I’m in,” she says.

  —

  I’m holding my breath as I raise the binoculars to my eyes, training them on Paul Giller’s apartment. My hands are shaking so badly that it’s hard to keep the damn things focused. “Where are you?” I ask.

  “I’m in the living room,” Jade says, flipping on the overhead light. “Can you see me?”

  “No. I see a light, but it’s raining too hard to see anything else. You have to come right to the window.”

  She obliges, approaching the window and shaking free of her hoodie, waving at me with the fingers of her left hand while holding the phone to her ear with her right. “It’s very weird in here,” she says, looking around.

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s, like, hardly any furniture. Not even a sofa. Just a couple of plastic lounge chairs, like the kind you take to the beach.”

  “Maybe he’s still waiting for his furniture to be delivered,” I posit. “I mean, if he just moved in …”

  “I don’t know. It’s like nobody really lives here.” Jade disappears from my line of sight.

  “Where are you? Where’d you go?”

  “I’m in the kitchen. There’s, like, no dishes or anything in any of the cupboards. Just a couple of plastic glasses. And the stove still has all the instruction books inside, like it’s never been used.”

  “Half the stoves in Miami have never been used,” I tell her. “Lots of people don’t cook anymore.…”

  “Yeah, but they eat. There’s absolutely no food in the fridge. This is really weird.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Not so far.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “Heading into the bedroom.”

  “Jade?”

  “Right here.” The overhead light in the bedroom suddenly comes on. “Can you see me?” she asks, coming right up to the glass.

  “Yes. What do you see?”

  “Pretty much what we see when we stare through the binoculars, except it looks better from a distance. There’s the bed and a couple of end tables, a full-length mirror, a dresser and a vanity table, some lamps. It’s all pretty cheap stuff. You know, like from Goodwill. There are no drapes anywhere.”

  “Any signs of a struggle?”

  “No. Just an unmade bed. Oh, wait.” She reaches into the sheets. “Idiot forgot his cell phone.” She holds it up for me to see.

  “Which means he could come back any minute. As soon as he realizes …”

  “I’ll be long gone,” Jade assures me, tossing the phone back on the bed and suddenly dropping from sight. I picture her down on all fours.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for blood.”

  “Do you see any?”

  “Not a drop. No bodies under the bed either.”

  “What about around the window? Any sign of blood there?”

  Jade’s head pops back into view. “Nothing. Except for the water I’m dripping all over everything. You know what we could use? One of those special flashlights they have on TV, the kind that lights up the blood that people try to wash away.”

  “Okay, Jade. That’s enough. It’s time for you to leave.”

  “Let me check the closet.”

  “No.… Don’t.… What’s happening?” I secure the phone against my ear with my shoulder while furiously twisting the lenses of the binoculars in an effort to locate her.

  “This is getting more and more bizarre,” Jade informs me seconds later. “I’m in the closet, and there’s, like, hardly any clothes. A few pairs of jeans, a pair of black pants, a couple of men’s shirts. A dress. Some kind of uniform. A pair of sneakers.”

  I bite down on my tongue to keep from screaming. “What kind of sneakers?”

  “Nikes.”

  “Black?”

  “More like charcoal gray.”

  Close enough, I think, my heart moving into my throat, causing my head to spin.

  “You want me to grab them?” Jade asks.

  “No.” If we remove the sneakers from Paul’s apartment, any evidence obtained from them would be inadmissible in court. “Can you take pictures of them with your phone?”

  “I can try.”

  “Front and back, both sides, top and bottom.”

  “Okay. As soon as I hang up. First, I’m gonna peek into the bathroom.”

  I can barely make out her vague form as it moves away from the closet. “Anything?”

  “Not much. A razor, some shaving cream, a toothbrush, some toothpaste. I’m opening the medicine cabinet. Wow—not even an aspirin. Shit … what’s that?” Her voice has become a whisper.

  “What’s what?”

  “I thought I heard something.” Jade appears in the bathroom doorway.

  My eyes shoot toward the living room window. “I don’t see anything. Wait. Oh, shit. Someone’s coming inside!” I watch in horror as Paul Giller enters the apartment, his head tilting toward the overhead light. “It’s him,” I tell Jade. “He noticed the light’s on. Damn it.”

  Jade’s head snaps toward the light switch on the wall by the bedroom door, as if trying to decide if she has time to run over and turn it off.

  “Forget it,” I say as Paul Giller kicks off his shoes and walks toward the bedroom. “Get under the bed. Now!”

  “What’s happening?” Jade whispers seconds later, and I can hear the fear crowding her words.

  “I don’t know. I can’t see him. Are you under the bed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t say another word. Just keep the phone tight against your ear and I’ll tell you as soon as I see him.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “Shh. Don’t talk. I still can’t see him. Wait. There he is. He’s coming into the room … he sees the light is on … obviously confused … he’s looking around, checking the closet … now he’s looking in the bathroom … he’s walking to the window.…” I back away from my own window as quickly as I can.

  “What’s happening? Bailey, what’s happening?”

  “Shh! He’ll hear you. Be quiet.” I edge slowly back toward the window, relieved to see that Paul isn’t there.

  Except, where is he? Where the hell is he?

  And then I see him. He’s reaching into the middle of the crumpled sheets to retrieve his cell phone. He’s just about to put it in his pocket when he stops. He remains motionless in this position for several seconds, his gaze focused on the floor.

  Does he know someone is hiding underneath the bed, only inches from his feet?

  He pivots slowly around, then bends down, balancing on his knees.

  “Shit,” I exclaim, the word escaping on a shallow breath as I watch his hand reach down to pat the carpet by his feet. “He knows it’s wet,” I tell Jade, my voice a strangled whisper. I watch in growing horror as Paul’s body vanishes from sight.

  “What the hell?” I hear him say.

  “Leave me alone,” Jade cries.

  “Come on out, little girl,” he tells her. “Nice and slow. Don’t make me have to drag you out.”

  “No! Don’t touch me!”

  “Then get out here. That’s it. Slide all the way out. On your feet.”

  I can see them clearly now. Jade, trembling, in front of the bed, Paul looming over her. He has yet to notice the phone secreted inside the palm of her hand.

  “Who the hell are you?” he asks.

  “Nobody. I’m nobody.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “I’m just someone who’s been breaking into a
partments in the neighborhood for the last couple of weeks,” she improvises. “Please let me go. I didn’t take anything. You don’t have anything.…”

  “What’s your name?” he barks.

  “Jade. Jade Mitchum.”

  “Jade Mitchum,” he repeats slowly. “How’d you get in here?”

  “I jimmied the lock.”

  “You jimmied the lock?”

  “Those locks aren’t worth shit.”

  “Good to know.” He grabs her arm and pulls her toward the window. “See anyone you know?” he asks, staring in my direction.

  With one hand, I press the binoculars tighter to my eyes, my other hand securing the phone to my ear.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Really? You don’t know anyone named Bailey Carpenter? Why do I find that so hard to believe?”

  “Please just let me go. You know Bailey’s onto you. You know she’s probably calling the police right now.…”

  “Would that be the same police she called last night?” he interrupts. “The ones I’ve threatened to sue if they so much as show their faces here again? I doubt she’d be that stupid. But go right ahead, Bailey,” he shouts at the window. “Call the cops. See how fast they come running this time.”

  I know he’s right. Whatever credibility I had with the police disappeared with last night’s debacle. There’s no point calling them. I’m the girl who cried wolf, at best a pathetic victim of post-traumatic stress, at worst a total nutcase.

  “What’s this?” I hear Paul ask, his voice inching closer. “Is that a phone? Is it on?” I watch him wrest the phone from Jade’s clenched fist. “Hello? Hello, Bailey? Are you still there?” His voice insinuates its way into my eardrum like a tiny serpent. “I think you are. I can hear you breathing.”

  Tell me you love me.

  Oh, God.

  The line goes dead.

  Seconds later, his apartment goes dark.

  — THIRTY —

  I’m crying as I pull a sweatshirt over my pajamas and run from the room. Pushing my bare feet into a pair of flip-flops, I race down the hall and out the door. The elevator arrives almost as soon as I press the call button, and mercifully, there is no one in it. I should have called Gene and told him his niece was in trouble, urged him to contact the police. The cops might not believe me, but they most assuredly wouldn’t argue with an assistant state’s attorney. Not that Gene has any more faith in my judgment than Miami’s finest does.