Free Someone's Watching by Sharon Potts Page B

the police flyer, Robbie recognized the young, narrow face. Joanne was smiling, hugging a horse. Happy. Alive. Unlike Kate Brooks, Joanne had not blocked her profile. Just what Robbie had been hoping for.
    She looked for messages on Joanne’s Facebook wall. Somehow, Joanne’s friends had already gotten the news of her death and set up a group to share their grief.
Oh no. This can’t be real . . . I love you Joanne . . . You can’t really be gone . . . you’ll always be in my heart
. . .
     
    Robbie scrolled down the recent comments, hoping but not really expecting one from Kate Brooks, and finding none.
    She went to Joanne’s photo albums, feeling a deep ache as she clicked through them. Joanne with the cheerleading squad. Joanne riding a tall dappled horse bareback, Joanne with her friends. And there was what Robbie had been looking for—a pretty blue-eyed girl with long dark hair—laughing with Joanne in photo after photo. Robbie held the cursor over one of the images. “Kate Brooks,” it said.
    Robbie began going through the comments and photos more slowly, scrutinizing them for something that might provide a clue as to where Joanne and Kate had gone when they’d separated from the rest of their group last Friday. She scanned the comments written over a week ago on Joanne’s wall. There was the familiar arrowhead picture, the one Kate Brooks used for her own profile.
    South Beach here we come. Woo-woo!
Kate had written. Then something more cryptic.
We’ll return broken, but fixed
.
    There was a knock on the door. Not Brett’s knock, but the same tentative tap Robbie had heard three days ago. Her stomach twisted. So he’d come to see her after all.
    She looked out the kitchen window. Her father was pacing. Then he perched on the catwalk railing and tapped his foot impatiently. He wore cordovan penny loafers, just like she remembered from her childhood. He used to let her put the pennies in when he got a new pair.
    Robbie opened the door.
    His gray hair was disheveled and there were large perspiration stains on his white shirt. He moistened his lips with his tongue before he spoke. “Hello, Roberta. Can we talk for just a minute?”
    “Sure.” She leaned against the open door so he could pass.
    He seemed surprised that she was offering her apartment. “Thank you.”
    She gestured toward the small oak table in the kitchen.
    He sat down on one of the two chairs and took in the mother and daughter salt and pepper shakers on the table, the undersized stove and sink, and the toaster oven, butcher block with assorted knives, and coffee maker that sat on the white countertop.
    “Would you like coffee or some water?” Robbie asked.
    “Water would be great.”
    She handed him a bottle from the refrigerator.
    “Thanks.” He took a long swallow.
    “I saw you at the creek,” Robbie said.
    “I figured. I saw you talking to that detective.”
    “Judy Lieber.”
    “That’s right. Lieber.” He picked up the mother and daughter shakers and tapped their ceramic heads together lightly.
    “She told me you’d gone to the creek with Joanne’s parents. That you were a big comfort to them.”
    “I’ve known Joanne all her life,” he said, putting the shakers down on the table. “She and Kaitlin were best friends.”
    “I’m sorry.” Robbie pulled out the other chair and sat down across from him.
    “I wish I knew what to do,” he said. “Where to look for her. I’ve checked all the local hospitals and she’s not at any of them. If only I could be sure she’s all right.” He took another gulp of water. His face was pale. “I’m very angry with the police. I said some insulting things to that detective. I hope she doesn’t hold that against Kaitlin.”
    “I’m sure she won’t. Detective Lieber understands you’re upset.”
    “But why aren’t they doing more to find her?” He put his head in his hands.
    She thought about the night so many years ago at the river. How sad he was.
Come give your old