Page 121 of I'm Watching You

Her father began to yell again. She had grown to hate her father, and though her mother had told her to hide, she could no longer stay cowered in the dark closet in her room. The shouting and the crying was driving her insane.

She wiped the tears from her face and stood. Slowly she opened the closet door and moved through her room down the hallway to her parents’ bedroom. She opened the door and peered inside. Her father stood over her mother, his arm raised in the air. He brought the back of his hand down. The blow connected with her mother’s jaw and it sounded as if it had shattered some of her mother’s teeth. Her mother cried and ducked her head low.

Rage filled Lindsay. She pushed open the door and ran toward her father. She wanted to make him stop. ‘Leave her alone!’

He turned and glared down at her. ‘Brat!’

The ferocity in his gaze made her hesitate with fear. He was so tall.

Her mother raised her head. ‘Lindsay, go away. Run.’

She fisted her fingers. ‘Leave my mother alone!’

Her father grabbed her and twisted her arm so hard she felt flesh and bone tear and break. She dropped to her knees. Anger collided with a deep feeling of helplessness that seared her soul.

Lindsay awoke with a start. Her body was covered in sweat and she could barely breathe. She glanced around the dark room trying to get her bearings. For several seconds she didn’t know where she was. And then she saw the sewing machine in the corner, the flowered wallpaper, and the chair with her purse slung across it. She was at the Kiers’ house.

‘I can’t hide. I’ve got to get out of here.’

*

Zack walked into Warwick’s office just after seven. Warwick gently set the telephone down in its cradle. He wore a deep, pensive frown.

‘What’s happening?’ Zack asked.

‘That was a Detective Rio from the San Francisco Police Department. I was returning a call in response to a teletype he sent me late last night.’

‘About?’

‘Your wife.’

Zack tensed. ‘What does San FranciscoPDhave to do with Lindsay?’

‘Rio is investigating the death of a Claire Carmichael. She was killed two days ago in San Francisco. She owned a New Age bookstore. The murder was grisly and the killer burned her place to the ground.’

‘I don’t see the connection.’

‘Claire placed a phone call from her store to Lindsay the night she was murdered. The call was logged in at elevenP.M.pacific coast time, or twoA.M.eastern standard.’

Zack’s mind turned. ‘Lindsay knows a lot of women in high-risk relationships.’

‘Claire wasn’t involved with anyone. And witnesses report that she closed her shop early on Tuesday. Around lunch. Friends say Claire never closed early. And she also volunteered at a local women’s shelter from time to time.’

Zack’s stomach clenched. ‘Richard Braxton is from San Francisco.’

‘Yeah.’

Warwick’s phone rang and he snapped up the receiver. Immediately he cradled the phone under his chin andstarted to write notes on a pad. ‘We’ll be right there. And keep a tight clamp on the entire area. I don’t want the media to even get a whiff of this.’

‘What is it?’

Warwick hung up and grabbed his coat off the back of his chair. ‘Marcus Greenland’s body was found in Deep Run Park. He was at the top of that list Lindsay reviewed with C.C. He’s one violentSOB.’

‘Lindsay was at my folks’ place last night.’

‘There’s no pinning this one on her.’

‘Why?’

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