Page 3 of I'm Watching You

She started to perspire.

‘God, I hate the heat.’

It coiled around her. It made her temper rise. It made her remember. …

‘Mom,’ she whispered, closing her eyes.

Twelve years ago a seventeen-year-old Lindsay had come home early from her lifeguard job on a hot, stormy afternoon. Usually, she worked until closing time, past nine in the evening. But on that hot day, thunderstorms had sent streaks of lightning across the cloudy sky. The manager had closed the pool around two and had sent the lifeguards home.

Her lifeguard buddy from the club, Joel, had given her a ride home. ‘Hey, are you sure you don’t want to catch a movie?’ Joel was a skinny kid with blotchy skin and braces. ‘It’s my treat.’

She knew Joel had a crush on her and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. ‘Thanks, but I don’t get a chance to spend much time with my mom. But I promise we’ll go next week?’

‘It’s a date.’ He dropped her off at the top of the circular drive in front of the green framed house built almost a hundred years ago by her great-grandparents.

Lindsay waved and with her pool bag dashed past her mother’s prized flower beds filled with daylilies, begonias, and marigolds. The front screen door wasn’t locked, which bothered her. She’d warned her mother about keeping the door locked.

Her mother had forced her father out two months earlier, because she could no longer endure the verbal and physical abuse. Since his departure, the house had taken on a lighter air. Her mother had begun singing again and she’d taken to wearing makeup. Now Lindsay no longer searched for excuses not to come home. In fact, she looked forward to it.

Lindsay dropped her pool bag by the front door and checked her watch. Her mother’s waitress shift at the Ashland Town Restaurant wouldn’t start for a few more hours so it gave them time to hang out together.

Thunder boomed and shook the windowpanes in the house. Dark clouds hovered over the corn fields and the distant trees. Gusty breezes inverted the oak tree leaves, making the tree line look more silver than green. The storm was heading east fast and soon it would be all around them.

‘Mom?’

No answer.

From the kitchen, the radio croonedCalifornia Dreamin’by The Mamas & the Papas. It was her mother’s favorite song. Lindsay smiled, recalling how the two of them haddanced to the tune just a few weeks ago. Her mother dreamed of going to California, of seeing the Pacific Ocean and visiting Universal Studios in Hollywood. Lindsay had promised to drive her mother cross country next summer right after she graduated from high school. For fun, they spent their spare time mapping the route west.

‘Mom!’

The song’s chorus repeated the verse about churches, kneeling and pretending to pray.

Lindsay started to hum and grabbed a soda from the refrigerator, popping it open.

That’s when Lindsay spotted her father’s worn work gloves on the kitchen table. Suddenly, her stomach churned. What was her father doing here?

He’d called her mother once or twice in the last couple of weeks. The calls had worried Lindsay, but when she had questioned her mother about them, her mother had downplayed everything and told her not to fret.

Everything looked as it should. The linoleum floor was swept clean. Dishes drained in the strainer. White lace curtains fluttered in the window. The Formica-topped table had two place settings arranged across from each other. Her father could be charming when he wanted to be and most likely had convinced her mother to fix him lunch.

Now a stir of cold air brushed the back of Lindsay’s neck. The house suddenly felt different. Wrong. Apprehension squeezed her heart.

Lindsay glanced around. ‘Mom!’

She crossed the kitchen, pushed the back screened dooropen, and glanced at the swing and glider by the toolshed in the backyard. Dark clouds covered the horizon.

‘Mom, where are –’

Lindsay turned to the right side of the yard. She stopped abruptly. Her mother lay on her back near the trash cans by the fence.

She rushed toward her mother and stopped just inches from her. Her mother’s face was so beaten, so swollen, it was nearly unrecognizable. Blood pooled around her head. Beside her body lay a bloody hammer that looked as if it had been hurriedly discarded.

Dropping to her mother’s side, Lindsay reached out to her mother but hesitated. She was afraid to touch her.

Afraid to touchthe woman who’d loved her, cared for her, and refused to abandon her no matter what.

A honking horn wrenched Lindsay from the memory and brought her back to the present. She glanced up at the green light. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her hands trembled. Cursing, she punched the gas.

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