Watching You

by Leslie A. Kelly

  Squeezing his arm, and promising Reece she’d only be a minute, she took another peek at the line coming out of the nearest restroom and immediately headed for the other one. The hotel lobby was massive, with enormous potted plants, flowers, and fountains. But it wasn’t hard to navigate. The building was shaped like a squared-off U, with the elegant entrance at the bottom, and hallways forming the sides.

  As she passed the main doors, she could hear voices rising like a giant swarm of bees from outside. They would once again have to run a gauntlet to get to the car. She wondered how many paparazzi would take pictures of her mussed hair and uneven dress. Fortunately, she had a few minutes to prepare herself.

  Reaching the other wing, and turning up the hall, she realized the woman who’d given her the tip had been right. It was deserted, and actually a little creepy, considering the other side of the hotel was a zoo. There were many conference rooms, none of them in use at this time of night. Spying a sign toward the back of the corridor, she headed toward it and pushed inside, immediately seeing the outer vestibule area was empty, too. No gossipy women sat together in front of the makeup mirror whispering as they touched up their lipstick. So she didn’t have to worry one of them had a nail file with which they intended to stab her in the eye.

  The interior, functional part of the ladies’ room appeared to be empty, too. No attendant was on duty, so she stood at the sink and carefully splashed cold water on her cheeks. Not wanting to keep Reece—and their limo rendezvous—waiting, she went into one of the private wood-slat-framed stalls. If only she hadn’t had sparkling water with dinner and champagne afterward. The dress was formfitting and a challenge to get out of. Probably why Reece just tossed it up rather than taking it off.

  Mmm.

  The downside was that designers never thought about women needing to pee in tiny cubicles.

  Though she’d expected to be alone, a click came from next door. She hadn’t heard anyone enter the bathroom or walk across it. The other person had caught her off guard. Worse, she had ignored bathroom etiquette by taking the stall right beside Jess’s, rather than one of the several other unoccupied ones.

  Well, maybe the other woman hadn’t realized somebody else was in here. The cubicles were made for privacy, the doors and partitions going almost all the way to the floor. So she couldn’t have seen Jess’s feet or the hem of her dress.

  “Bitch.”

  Jess stiffened, not sure she’d actually heard the word. Had someone called her a name, or was the other occupant talking to herself? Or had she merely imagined it?

  Confused, she strained to hear. But it wasn’t another whisper that caught her attention. It was a smell. A powerful, chemical scent wafted into the compartment. She noticed it with one deep inhalation. Her dress fell from her hands as she began to cough. Her throat and nose stung as if burned, and her eyes instantly filled with tears. Gagging, she covered her mouth with her hand even as the fumes started to make her feel lightheaded.

  She could think of only one explanation. A hotel employee must have begun her nightly cleaning. The gala was taking place on the other side of the hotel; this side was totally empty. Of course she wouldn’t expect anyone to be using this bathroom, and had apparently dumped a gallon of bleach or ammonia into the next toilet.

  “Wait, I’m in here!” she called, risking opening her mouth again. She immediately regretted it as her tongue tasted chemicals. She also suddenly felt dizzy and confused, knowing she should be doing something—getting out—but her movements were sluggish.

  She shook her head, hard, clearing it briefly, and held her breath. Reaching for the lock, she twisted it, and pulled on the stall door.

  It didn’t move.

  The door that had swung so freely a few moments ago was now stuck or jammed.

  Before she could even wonder why, she heard a gurgle. Liquid suddenly streamed underneath the ribbon of space beneath the bottom slat of the partition. It glided toward her shoes and the hem of her dress. Yanking handfuls of fabric out of harm’s way, she backed into the other wall.

  “Stop, please. I’m stuck. I can’t breathe!” Since she’d instinctively taken a breath before crying out, she quickly began to cough.

  The employee didn’t apologize or call out reassurances. There was more splashing, as if a huge bucket had been pushed over. Harsh, abrasive liquid streamed in even harder.

  She had nowhere else to go; there was no retreat from the puddle now extending to the tips of her shoes. When it rose above the sole and touched her toes, her skin began to tingle, and then to burn. She let out a shocked cry, more surprised than pained, confused about why the woman wasn’t responding. Was she wearing earbuds, listening to loud music while she worked?

  Then the voice came again, a throaty whisper. “You deserve whatever you get.”

  Understanding slammed into her fume-muddled brain as fear assaulted her.

  That wasn’t a janitor. There was no misunderstanding by a cleaning crew about a bathroom still in use.

  She’d been followed in here deliberately. She was being targeted by someone—the whisper was deep, but it sounded like a woman trying to disguise her voice.

  Jess tried to escape again, pulling hard, and then pounding against the slatted door with her fists to try to break out. Although her hands hurt from the blows, nothing moved. Something was definitely holding the door closed. Someone had her right where they wanted her.

  From next door came one more comment. “See if he thinks you’re pretty now.”

  The malevolence in the voice chilled her blood, and she was momentarily frozen into utter immobility. Then something alerted her to movement above, and she jerked her head up.

  A plastic jug. A rubber-gloved hand.

  She knew what was coming.

  Pure instinct made her fall to the floor and curl around the commode, covering her head, burying her face against porcelain. She drew in lungfuls of rank air—enough to scream for help with all her might, though she doubted anyone was close enough to hear.

  Reece, oh God, please come!

  Liquid began to dribble down—cold and shocking. She screamed again as the thick drops landed on her ankle. Then came more, and she tucked in tighter. Splashes soon reached her thigh—soaking quickly through the fabric of her dress.

  Then the heavens opened up and a chemical rainstorm poured down on her like a poisonous, biblical flood.

  Chapter 10

  Although the sound of a woman’s scream from somewhere nearby would always be shocking, this shrill cry of terror sent ice straight to Reece’s heart. Jessica. That’s Jessica.

  His feet were moving—running—before he’d even had time to evaluate why he was so certain the brief, horrified cry had come from her beautiful mouth.

  “What was that?” his father called after him, as the hotel lobby began to buzz.

  Someone else yelled, “Did somebody scream?”

  God, yes, it was a scream. It was coming from the hallway down which Jessica had disappeared, looking for a restroom.

  He raced around the corner, his feet pounding, his heart set on Detonate. Entering a shadowy corridor lined with unused conference and banquet rooms, as long and eerie as the one in the hotel from the fucking Shining, he heard another noise ahead of him. Far ahead.

  It was an alarm. One of those emergency exit doors had been opened somewhere in the depths of this quiet wing. Someone was either escaping…or perhaps dragging another person out of the hotel.

  “Stop!” he yelled, not knowing anything but fearing everything. After what had happened at the gallery, his mind went to dark places. An abduction? An assault?

  Finally seeing the sign for the ladies’ room, he noticed a strange, chemical smell. Although part of him leaned toward running down to the exit door, whose alarm still rang in a slow whine, he couldn’t pass by the last place he’d known Jessica to be. He slammed against the door, bursting inside, and was immediately slapped in the face and the lungs with the acrid reek of bleach.


  “Jessica!”

  Hearing a faint, low groan, he crossed the lounge area in two long strides. As soon as he entered the main bathroom he began to cough—the bleach vapors were brutally strong in here. His lungs screamed, his eyes leaked water, and his mouth began to tingle.

  He didn’t know where the smell was coming from, but he immediately saw one of the wooden cubicle doors was barricaded. Someone had looped a rope around the outer handle, tying it to the next one. Whoever was inside wouldn’t have been able to pull it open.

  His heart thumped as he let himself imagine who was inside.

  Reece didn’t even mess with the rope; it was tied in knots that would take precious time to undo. Instead, he punched the center of the door, making a large hole.

  And there she was.

  Seeing Jessica curled like a comma around the commode, he almost exploded in rage. Judging by the locked door, and the reeking fluid dripping down the wall, it had been poured down on her, leaving her with nowhere to go but the floor.

  Someone was going to pay. Dearly.

  He hammered the remaining slats out of his way and stepped through the hole, crouching beside her. “Jessica?” How the hell long had she been here breathing these vapors? Judging by the chlorine bleach splashing around his shoes and soaking the color out of her dress—and her skin, all that exposed skin—too fucking long. “I’m here.”

  She turned her head and looked up at him, her face splotchy, her eyes as red as her dress had once been. “Reece?” The word was barely a croak.

  “I’ve got you,” he said, scooping her into his arms. “Hang on, Jess.”

  He shouldered away more of the broken door and maneuvered her through it. He’d taken one step out when a uniformed hotel employee burst into the bathroom, accompanied by his heaving father. The young clerk immediately put a hand to his mouth. “What’s going—”

  “Call 911,” Reece snapped. “Do it now.”

  Not needing to be told twice to get away from the poisonous air, the young man raced out. Reece’s father remained, his arm thrown over his mouth and nose, determined to help.

  “Come on, we have to get her out of here.”

  His father nodded, going ahead of him to open the door. “Is she okay?”

  “No.” They hit the hallway, where the air was clearer. “Help me get this off her.”

  With his father bracing Jessica’s limp, half-conscious body, Reece ripped the sopping dress off her and threw it aside. Seeing how reddened her skin was, from head to toe, he growled with rage. He wanted to commit murder.

  “Take her in there, son. We need to wet her down.”

  Seeing his father open the men’s room door, he carried her in. His dad went right to the nearest sink and turned on the tap, splashing water all over the marble countertop. Reece gently laid her on it, and got another tap going. As his father began to splash huge handfuls of water on Jessica’s feet and legs, Reece reached around to unfasten her bra—once entirely red, now dotted with white—and pulled it off her. Every inch of skin revealed was splotchy; this fabric had been much tighter on her skin and had pressed bleach into her very pores.

  “Bastard,” he snarled as he also removed her underwear. His father averted his eyes but continued to soak her feet and calves.

  Once she was wet from head to foot, Reece dispensed liquid soap into his hands and gently washed her face, her neck, her chest, and her arms. He struggled to remain calm as his hands shook with worry and with sheer mind-blackening rage.

  She started to shiver. Her lips turned blue, and her teeth chattered. Jessica had been doused with chemicals, was being drowned in barely lukewarm water, and was lying naked on a cold countertop.

  “I’m sorry, Jess. I know you’re cold, but we have to get these chemicals off you.”

  “You…you…”

  “Don’t try to talk. An ambulance is on the way.”

  “But you…”

  Knowing she wasn’t going to rest until she’d had her say, he bent close so he could hear the words she was so determined to whisper. “What is it? What do you want to tell me?”

  A cough, and then a faint, weak smile. “You…called me…Jess.”

  Torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to rip apart the person who’d hurt her, he heard shouts from down the hall. His father stopped what he was doing and hurried to the door to direct the rescue workers.

  Although he didn’t give a damn about anything except her well-being, he knew Jessica would prefer not to be laid out naked in front of a bunch of EMTs. He suspected when she was more aware, and remembered his dad had seen her that way, she’d be pretty mortified. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her more distress. Plus, knowing the place was crawling with paparazzi, and fully aware some of them had no morals or decency, he also feared she would be photographed as she was carried out of the hotel.

  “Can you sit up, sweetheart?”

  Nodding, she blinked and watched as he whipped off his tuxedo jacket. He lifted one of her arms and began to slide it in.

  “Don’t…ruin it,” she mumbled.

  “Jesus, woman,” he said, unable to hold in a laugh, shocked and relieved she was already back to being her independent, bossy self.

  She allowed him to wrap his jacket around her, and clenched it tight, some strength having returned to her limbs. Burrowing her face in the collar, she stopped shaking, as if finally warming up.

  A second later, his father burst back in, accompanied by three emergency responders. After Reece quickly explained what happened, the one in charge, who introduced himself as Zack, said, “Juan, would you put a respirator on and check out the other bathroom? We need to know what chemicals were used, especially if it was a mix, like bleach and ammonia.”

  Reece felt his blood chill, knowing the combination could be deadly. At first, he’d thought someone had played a really ugly prank on Jessica. Now he had to wonder if they’d actually had murder in mind.

  Since that night at the gallery, he’d assumed he had been the target of the shooter. He had barely considered her stalking ex to be a serious suspect. “Stupid,” he muttered, angry at himself, wondering if the person who’d shot at them had taken another chance to kill her tonight.

  Forcing his attention back on Jessica, he held her pale, cold hand as the lead paramedic, an older African American man with kind eyes and gentle hands, quickly examined her. He checked her breathing, pulse, and blood pressure, not revealing by word or expression what he was thinking.

  By the time he was finished, Juan, who’d gone to investigate, came back in. He peeled a plastic mask off his face. “I found four jugs of bleach. Nothing else—including ammonia.”

  Thank God.

  Zack began to pack up his blood pressure cuff. “You did a smart thing washing those chemicals off her right away,” he said. “She’s obviously got a redhead’s skin—sensitive. It’s why she’s so blotchy. Getting splashed with household bleach doesn’t even affect some people.”

  Lucky her.

  Juan cleared his throat. “I should have said it wasn’t just the household stuff. This was commercial-grade, industrial-strength chlorine bleach.

  Zack’s brow furrowed, his worry visibly increasing. “That increases the danger of burns in her throat, lungs, and nasal passages. We need to get her in right away. Let’s get her loaded up.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  The man opened his mouth to argue. Reece’s hard stare said he would not be denied.

  “All right.”

  Jessica had already been moved onto a gurney for examination. Before strapping her in, Zack glanced down at her long legs, stained with bumpy rashes, against her pale skin and the stark white sheet. “Are you cold? Let’s cover you up and keep you warm.”

  “Thanks,” she mumbled. She smiled weakly. “Don’t…want to give those jackals with cameras a-any cr-crotch shots.”

  The strength of the woman.

  The paramedic chuckled as he pulled a concealing sheet over
her, from toes to neck, and prepared to fasten the restraint straps.

  “Wait,” she whispered, her eyes flickering as she looked for Reece. “Take…all off.”

  He bent closer. “Take what, Jess?”

  She reached a shaking hand up toward her neck. “Jewelry. Borrowed.”

  He smiled at her and pushed her hand down below the sheet. “No, gorgeous. It’s not.”

  If she were well and had use of that powerful voice of hers, he knew she’d be giving him hell. But she was in pain, and confused, so she merely closed her eyes and let herself be fastened onto the restraint straps.

  That scared the shit out of him, frankly.

  “We’ll keep you safe, ma’am,” said Zach. “We’ll protect your privacy as much as we can. You’ll be at the hospital real soon.”

  Nodding his appreciation, Reece asked, “Where did you park?”

  “Out front. I’m sorry, if we’d known who you were…”

  “There’s no help for it now. Let’s go.”

  They headed down the corridor, his father hanging back, not wanting to be in the way. “Dad,” Reece said over his shoulder, “my limo’s outside. I’ll have the driver take you home.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to come to the hospital?”

  “Thanks, but I think we’re in for a long, rough night. Not just with her injuries, but with the press. I’d rather not give them anything else to report.”

  Although he’d worked as an electrician most of his life, his father knew this world. He’d seen his children living it. He’d saved them from it. So he didn’t argue. “Call me with updates.”

  “I will.”

  Hotel security, and some uniformed police officers who’d responded with paramedics, surrounded them as they neared the lobby. Looking for a familiar face, he spotted a young officer he believed he’d met before. “Officer, uh…”

  “Wilhelm, sir.”

  “Right, Wilhelm. You know my brother, don’t you?”

  The rookie nodded, looking nervous. “Uh, sure.”