Page 11 of Somebody's Watching Me
Samuel hadn’t grown up at Haven like the rest of them. He only spent a few weeks every summer there, and during the rest of the year he was with his mother at the Fairweather estate in Hollingsdale called Parkland Grounds. Also living at Parkland, had been his mother’s best friend. A woman named Josie Campbell who, much to everyone’s surprise, had been the love of Miranda’s life. The women hid their relationship for years, living quietly and raising Samuel until Miranda’s death from cancer when he was in his teens.
For most of their lives, Jamison and Evie had always thought their own mother had been nothing more than the other woman. The infamous Benjamin Fairweather’s secret hidden away at Haven House.
But how wrong they had been.
In the time since their discovery of Miranda and Josie’s relationship, an entirely new narrative unfolded. The love story of Ben Fairweather and Laura Jean Eddins was already the stuff of legend, but learning of how her mother sacrificed her own happiness to keep Miranda and Josie’s secret safe painted the woman Jamison would never know in a different light.
“It’s time to go.” Her assistant Tammy popped her head through the door, aiming a sweet, maternal smile at Jamison. Having spent countless hours together, the woman understood how hard these next few days were going to be. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come?”
As her right-hand gal, Tammy usually traveled with her anytime she spent long stretches at the various Fairweather branches. But this wasn’t a work trip, and they both knew it. She was just being protective, and Jamison loved her for it. “Absolutely not. You’re to take the entire week off and spoil your grandkids. They’re in town, aren’t they?”
“They are, and every single one of them promised to go with me to the embroidery trade show this weekend.” Tammy gave a short nod, grandma-mode activated. “So, if you’re going to be alright without me, I plan to hold them to it.”
Jamison headed for the door, dropping a kiss on Tammy’s cheek as she left. “Have fun and don’t worry about me.”
“I will always worry about you, young lady.”
Making it down to the private elevators only to be used by members of the family, Jamison grinned when her phone started ringing with a call from her sister.
“Hey, big butt.”
Evangeline Eddins Fairweather snorted at the greeting. “My butt is not big.”
“Oh yeah, it is.” Jamison stepped inside the elevator and hit the button. “All those babies have made your boobs and ass enormous.”
She was only kidding. Evie positively glowed in her maternal happiness. It was a feeling Jamison wanted for herself, although with thethingno longer happening, it wouldn’t be anytime soon.
“So, why are you calling me, heifer?”
In the background, what sounded like a herd of howler monkeys let loose, followed by Evie shouting at Theo to stop dancing on top of the kitchen counter. “Are you watching the news?”
“No, I’m leaving the office.”
“They’re at it again and holding a press conference.”
“Over what?” Jamison exited the elevator and waved goodnight to the security guard at the rear entrance. “They’re not trying to force yet another parole hearing, are they?”
“Zanmi is claiming mistreatment. They’re saying we’re bribing guards to withhold basic necessities and blocking them from talking to Toby directly.”
The Zanmi Society.
Or as Jamison liked to call them, the Pain in the Ass Society.
Founded by Toby’s old friend, Dr. Marcus Etienne, the group advocated for Toby’s release. In the beginning, it seemed to have been mainly made up of naive people who were blinded by the handsome face of killer. They came together during the trial, holding press conferences or picketing the courthouse on his behalf.
But when their sway over public opinion proved to hold power, Jamison had to admit she and her entire family had been surprised. Drawing hundreds of members, it was firmly believed that Toby escaped the death penalty thanks to his Zanmi band of freaks.
After the gavel fell and Toby’s life sentence was announced, they thought the press conferences and inappropriate courtroom antics would end. Instead, it morphed into something sinister. Stalking. Harassment. It became so bad during the first year of Toby’s incarceration that Evie couldn’t leave the house without being chased down by one of them.
Only when Marcus Etienne died did Zanmi cool down their crazy. The Haitian doctor Toby had befriended in college drew people to him like moths to a flame, and without his fire, the group lost steam. Two other doctors picked up where Etienne left off, quietly backing the members who remained.
“Don’t let this upset you, Evie. They have no power.”
Jamison would never say it out loud, but she’d always found Zanmi’s devotion to Toby fascinating. What kind of person became so infatuated with a sick and twisted serial killer that they wanted to join a group dedicated to freeing him? Members included everything from lawyers to housewives to grocery store employees. All of them sympathized with Toby—to a staggering degree—and wanted to believe he had been the victim the entire time.
“It still makes me mad,” Evie wheezed.
Outside on the sidewalk, Jamison scanned the area for the car and driver taking her to the small executive airport where she would catch a Fairweather jet home. “Why do you sound like you can’t breathe?”
