Schneider - Girl Watching You

Girl Watching You

A Novel

J.A. Schneider

Publisher Information

Girl Watching You is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, institutions or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2019 J.A. Schneider.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, store in a retrieval system, or transmit this book, in any part thereof, in any form or by any means whatsoever, whether now existing or devised at a future time, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles and reviews.

Find out more about the author and her other books at http://jaschneiderauthor.net

Books by J.A. Schneider

The EMBRYO medical thrillerseries, 6 books

HomicideDetective Kerri Blasco Police/Psychological Thrillers:

FEAR DREAMS

A sensitive woman fears insanity.Intuitive Detective Kerri Blasco tries to unravel the truth of what reallyhaunts her

HER LAST BREATH

Mari Gill woketo horror in a strange bed next to a murdered man, and cant remember the nightbefore. Detective Kerri Blasco battles her police bosses believing Mari isinnocentbut is she?

WATCHING YOU

A serial killer texts hisvictims first but how does he get their phone numbers? Detective Kerri Blascovows revenge. He comes after her.

SHOELESS CHILD

A little boy has seen a horrific murderbut is too traumatized to speak. Detective Kerri Blasco struggles to connectwith him

Standalone Thrillers

INTO THE DARK

A perfect marriage deteriorates as a woman starts to fear that herhusband is a killer.

GIRL WATCHING YOU

A young woman, obsessed by a man sheconsiders a predator, climbs a fire escape and thinks she sees a murder

Dedicated to all who never give up

Girl Watching You

....

Shesburied in the older part of the cemetery, the prettier part, really, beneath adogwood that blooms pink in spring. Its branches shelter her, and comfort me a little, but not much. Whatshatters me is when those pink petals fall, and then the leaves in autumn too,and the ground grows cold again

....

There he is again. Another girlfriend.

He approaches. Istiffen and surprise - feel better. Not much better, but not crying bad,either. Because mad is better than sad, isnt it? That revved feeling thatpulls you out of your gloom? This guy makes me mad.

He comes right upto our sidewalk counter, surveying bouquets, hugging one-armed his beaming newgirl. I give a helpless sigh. Doesnt she know about him? Hes in every gossipcolumn. I grit my teeth as he pays, per usual, with his gold Palladium Visacard; barely looks at me from behind his Armani sunglasses.

Very nice, Itell him, hands shaking as I wrap the double bouquet of pink roses in goldfoil. And I think: Women should steer clear of you, Mister. Youre apredator. I know your name. I know where you live.

Hes oblivious, ofcourse. (Do people realize, when they give you their credit cards, that you canfind out practically everything about them?) Men like this enjoy theirarrogance. Hes a Greed Is Good clich who stops here often to gift his girlswith bouquets, plush toys, exotic handcrafts. Hes dark-haired and handsome inan aggressive-brooding way, and his name is Peter Greer. He was written up asone of fifteen hot young hedge funders, and that was several years ago; nowhes forty-one. Weeks ago, he bought a party pad a few blocks away. Fancy place.I searched public records for his property sale.

A pity, I think, becauseGreers new girl is lovely, understated in a wheat-colored blazer over a bluedress. She thanks me sweetly, just like they taught her to do in Minnesota orIowa or Ohio; then her pretty face disappears behind her fall of blond hair asshe sniffs the bouquet, so romantic. Thank you, she smiles at him.

Minnesota, Ivedecided.

Shouldnt warningwomen about men like this be some sort of civic duty?

Shes earlytwenties and smart-looking; maybe one of last Junes crop of new grad schooltypes to arrive in the city, still euphoric that theyre in New York, in justthe best new job ever working for bankers or media honchos and living in theheart of trendy West Village, woo hoo.

Thats how I felt,starting out.

She gazes at expensiveorchids, leaning on Greers shoulder as he waves his wallet pointing to tall ficusand a big-leafed anthurium. Wouldnt she like more plants in her place? Its sobare!

She shakes herhead, maybe thinking where would she put all her Ikea stuff with those big plantsin the way. Her place is tiny. Last visit, he bought her potted yellowchrysanthemums. They wound up outside her window on the fire escape. I thinkher cat peed on them.

Do you still havegeraniums? pipes a woman holding a poodle.

Oops. Othercustomers.

Septembers toolate in the season, try asters? I tell her, going back to subtly watchingGreer and Minnesota.

By theireffusiveness, I can tell theyve had their early evening glass of wine at nearbyRgines, as theyve done for the weeks since Ivenoticed them dating. Its probably where they met, probably their breathless ourplace though the poor girl doesnt know its the turds favorite pickupjoint. He still acts like their affair is new, but I catch an undercurrent of tensionfrom her. She gives me a suddenly troubled look, then reaches Aww to pata plush bunny tied with a bow to roses

Whats this?

Bruises on herwrist. Her blazer sleeve pulls back as she reaches to the toy, and I see fingerprintmarks, jewel-blue over her pulse.

I lean to her, tryto find a subtle way to ask if she was hurt.

But hes alreadypulled her away.

I frown, watchingthem head east on leafy West Eleventh to her studio. Its on the second floorin the rear, barely five hundred square feet but in a pretty brownstone with aview of the garden with its fire escape that doesnt shake when you climb up,unlike some fire escapes

Ah, Miss?

Oh, sorry!

Its after six coming home time and I switch gears to catch up with jostling newcomers: amiddle-aged woman in artiste black who wants white chrysanthemums; a young manin a tight Gucci T-shirt waving calla lilies; an elderly lady seeking Africanviolets who asks how my auditions are going (I give her a sad face; she lookssad and says, Oh, honey), and a pair of lovers buying a hanging fern. Theyvesettled in a one-bedroom on West Sixth. When youre out together buying hangingferns, your relationship is serious; you are comfortable with each other.

Two reasons why Ilike this job: I can hide from the world, and simultaneously get a glimpse intoother lives. It helps to see some people find luck.

Then I think ofMinnesotas bruises

Customers clamor.I hurry and kick myself for getting lost in my thoughts. Minnesota will be alright.Shes smart, shell come to her senses ah, see that? I glance up to see them arguingbefore her building; she wont go ingood. One month, thats about the lengthof Peter Greers affairs. Hes voracious. Hed probably bleep an open window.

I wrap and tiebows and take more credit cards.

Ava, I heargroaned behind me. Thats my name, Ava Beck, out of work actress. I can stillfind myself on Google.

I turn.

Joe Cooper isstanding just inside the stores entrance, looking miserable, wanting help withhis accounting. We both loathe it: deathly tedious columns of numbers, nopassion, hell for artistic types.

In a bit? I wince,raising my shoulders. Still busy out here.

He grimaces, turnsback into the stores interior.