Free Always Watching by Brandilyn Collins

knees, then collapsed on the cold concrete.
    His mother was out running errands. He knew he should get to the phone, call 9 – 1 – 1. At five, he was already intelligent enough to do that. But as he gawked at his father’s unconscious form, disappointment stirred within him. What a
stupid
accident. How could his own father do something so dumb?
    Still, he had to save him.
    He glanced toward the door — the one that led into the kitchen and the life-saving phone — and cold panic overtook him. His body turned to lead. Try as he might, he couldn’t move his legs.
    Helplessly, he watched his father bleed to death.
    When the garage door opened to his mother’s car, he melted into a puddle of shaking and tears.
    Days later when he cried to her about his guilt, she told him it wasn’t his fault. But he could never forgive himself. As he grew he could only harden his own spirit to keep from
feeling.
He’d pushed the memory into a corner of his head, far away from his heart.
    Yes
, he thought now. Accidents happened. Bloody, deadly, horrific accidents. Many times they were no one’s fault.
    But the time might come when he had to help one along.

18
    L ook.” I shoved the picture into Brittany’s hands. She looked at it, front and back, and gasped.
    “Let me see that.” Bruce leaned forward, arm stretched out. Brittany thrust the photo at him as if it burned her fingers.
    He examined the picture, then the words on the back.
    Brittany and I looked at each other. No one else knew I’d already received another, similar message that morning on a card along with a white rose, and not seeming nearly so threatening. Even if it had hit me as a little creepy, I could have argued it was harmless. I so wanted to believe my father had sent it.
    Until now.
    Two “watching” messages within hours of each other. And those within a day of Tom’s murder. Was the same person behind all this?
    Bruce dropped the photo back in my shopping bag. “You need to show that to the police. Looks like some kind of stalker.”
    Bruce worked for my mom, not me. He would tell her as soon as possible. No way could I keep this from her.
    My cell phone rang. I fished it from my purse and checked caller ID.
Mom.
    What timing.
    Flipping open the phone, I worked to steady my voice. No need to upset her right now. She’d hear soon enough.
    “Hi, Mom. Aren’t you in your interview?”
    “Just finished.” Mom used her clipped business tone. “I’m headedback to the hotel. Just got a call from Detective Furlow. He wants to meet with you now, ask you some more questions.”
    Dread filtered through me. All I wanted to do was get back to my room and hide from the world. “Why?”
    “Evidently they’ve found some new information they need to ask you about.”
    “What?”
    “I don’t know. We’ll hear soon. I’m not letting them talk to you without my being there.”
    The white rose.
My eyes closed, and I leaned my head against the seat. I’d have to tell Mom. Because I’d have to tell the detective about its message and now the photo in my bag.
    “How far are you from the hotel?” she asked.
    “Close.”
    “Good. We’ll meet with the detective in my room.”
    “Okay.” I bit my lip. “Before the detective comes, I need to talk to you.” I wasn’t about to show him the white rose without telling her about it first.
    “Okay.” She sounded distracted. “We’re pulling into the hotel. See you soon.”
    She clicked off the line.
    I held the dead phone to my ear, Mom’s words trailing through my mind.
New information they need to ask you about.
    The way things had been going, it couldn’t be good.

19
    W hen we reached the hotel, Bruce escorted Brittany and me up to our room. I still felt a little trembly. We carried our shopping bags inside and set them down. The photo glared up at me.
    Bruce checked in the bathroom and closet. “Make sure you put on the extra bolt.” He gestured toward the door.
    “Don’t worry.”
    He headed