Careful little eyes: An addictive, horrifying serial killer thriller (7th Street Crew Book 4)

by Willow Rose

  I don’t dare to get my hopes up.

  Blake throws the band some bills in their jar, then salutes them as he continues on. I get a new worrying thought. What does he do with Salter when he goes out observing the woman?

  If Salter is still alive.

  I refuse to think about it and we continue after him as he crosses Jackson Square in front of St. Louis Cathedral. There are a lot of tourists out already, taking pictures of the statue and the church and the park, and it is easy for us to blend in.

  Blake zigzags between tourists and walks back into the street, where all the horse carriages are parked, ready to take the tourists on expensive rides around the town, filling them with ghost stories that the city lives so highly on. I know it because I came here as a child with my parents for a vacation, and I really wanted to go on one of those rides, but my dad wouldn’t let me.

  “It’s a rip-off,” he said. And then he explained to me that all they did was tell ridiculous stories of ghosts while ripping you off for a hundred dollars an hour.

  I still wanted to go, but he refused to spend the money. Now that I pass them again, and walk along the row of carriages and mules pulling them, I feel a little pinch in my stomach. If Salter asked, I wouldn’t hesitate to take him. But then again, right now I would travel to the end of the world for him to get his favorite ice cream if that would mean being with him again.

  Blake continues towards the harbor and we follow him. A steamboat is getting ready to leave and is playing loud music. Blake greets a few tourists with a smile and a nod, then continues past them, almost skipping as he walks.

  What are you so happy about, you beast?

  Barely do I finish the thought before I realize he is heading for the train tracks and the small station where the tram stops. And there is one coming right now. Blake rushes to the platform, grabs onto it, and jumps up as it passes.

  “He’s getting away!” I yell and start to run, but we can’t even make it close to the platform before the tram passes us, and I spot Blake in the window.

  “Crap!” I yell.

  “Shoot,” Joey says in agony. “I can’t believe we lost him again!”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  May 2005

  “What are you doing with that girl?”

  Robyn looks up from the sink. She is standing in the kitchen doing the dishes when John enters. She has just finished eating with Suzy and now she is cleaning up. John came home while they were just done eating, earlier than usual, and now he is looking at her like she has done something wrong.

  “What do you mean?” Robyn asks.

  “Why do you cook for her?”

  Robyn shrugs and returns to her dishes. “She’s home alone every night. There is no one to cook her a proper dinner and she eats cereal or pasta right out of the box. I feel bad for her, John.”

  “So, she comes here every night?” he asks.

  Robyn nods. “Sure. You’re never home anymore anyway. She keeps me company and I make sure she gets something proper to eat. I can’t see anything wrong with wanting to help her.”

  “I didn’t say that there was anything wrong with it, just…that it is a little…I don’t know…odd?”

  Robyn turns and looks at him. “Odd? What’s odd about helping a little girl? If it gives me some sort of purpose and meaning in life, then what’s the harm? What’s so odd about that?”

  John shrugs. “I don’t know. I just find it a little…strange, okay? But if it makes you happy, then by all means.”

  “Thank you.”

  Robyn returns to her dishes and rubs on the bottom of a pot that is burnt and nasty. She uses a lot of force to get it clean.

  “And so you’re sure that her mother is okay with this little…arrangement of yours?” he asks, as he grabs an apple and bites into it. The sound of him smacking his lips and slurping the juices from it annoys her.

  “I am sure she won’t mind,” Robyn says and continues to scrub.

  “But you haven’t asked her,” John concludes, taking another loud bite of the apple. Robyn tries to drown out the noise by turning on the water.

  “No. I haven’t spoken to her, no. She is never home, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll talk to her when I get the chance. I get the feeling she doesn’t care much about Suzy.”

  “Just making sure we’re not overstepping any boundaries here,” John says, still chewing. “I don’t want you to get yourself in trouble.”

  “I seriously don’t think a mother who is never home could have anything against me making a proper meal for her daughter. They’re struggling financially, Suzy tells me. They never have enough food. It’s called caring about others; you should try it once in your life.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” John asks defensively.

  Robyn sighs. “Nothing. I just really want to do this for Suzy, all right? She’s a good girl. She misses adult attention. And I enjoy her company.”

  “I get a feeling you enjoy it more than mine,” John mumbles.

  Robyn lets go of the pot and turns to look at him again. “What?”

  He shrugs. “It’s like you like her better than me, your own husband.”

  “I lost a child, John. I am trying to move on. You’re never home. You stay at that office doing God knows what, trying to stay away from home for as long as possible. What do you expect from me? To never get to know anyone else? To sit here alone in this big godforsaken house and wither? What, John?”

  “It’s just a little creepy the way you want to be with that girl. That’s all I’m saying,” he says and throws the remains of the apple in the trash can. He grabs his briefcase. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to finish to make sure we can still afford living in this big godforsaken house.”

  Chapter Thirty

  July 2016

  It starts to rain and Lisa Klein closes the window. In the second she pulls it down, she spots a guy in the street with a camera pointed towards her.

  Is he taking pictures of me?

  She feels like she has seen him before and hurries away from the window. The guy keeps taking pictures and it leaves Lisa with an eerie feeling, much like what she has felt the past couple of days.

  Like someone is watching her.

  He’s just another tourist, you silly.

  Lisa shakes her head as she sees the man move on. Of course he is. There are always so many of them taking pictures of her building because of it being one of the historic houses.

  Lisa hasn’t lived in the apartment for very long. Only two months, and so far, she loves it here. Being in the center of the French Quarter is perfect for where she is at in her life right now. After living ten years with the same man, the same abusive man, she is ready to start living her life.

  They met in high school and got married two years later. Bernie wanted her to be a stay at home mom, so Lisa never got an education. Nor did she ever have children, luckily. Not that they didn’t try. Bernie wanted children badly and kept pushing for it. But when she didn’t deliver what he wanted, when she didn’t become pregnant, the abuse started. He would beat her senseless in anger and frustration and, little by little, she started to blame herself as well. Until her sister stepped in. Julia took her to a clinic and had her checked. It turned out there was nothing wrong with her; it had to be him. It had to be his sperm that didn’t work.

  Bernie, of course, didn’t believe her and beat her again when she tried to tell him; she told him to get himself checked if he didn’t believe her. Why it took her ten years to leave him, she doesn’t understand now. But with Julia’s help, she got out of it, finally, and got this small place in the center of town, along with a job at Café du Monde. It doesn’t pay much and is a lot of hard work, but the co-workers are the best. Lisa enjoys getting out every day and being with them.

  Lisa sits down on her couch when her cell rings. She looks at the display, praying it isn’t Bernie again, trying to force her to come back, but sighs, relieved, when she realizes it is Julia.<
br />
  “Hello, sis,” Julia says. She has gotten into a habit of checking up on Lisa every afternoon when she gets back from work, to make sure Bernie hasn’t tried anything and that she is all right.

  “How was your day?”

  “Good. Good. Busy. But good.”

  “And you’re still hanging in there?”

  “Yes. Don’t worry. I am as happy as I haven’t been in forever. Thanks to you,” Lisa says.

  “You thank yourself. It takes a lot of guts to do what you did. But even more to stay with it and not give in to his pleading and promises. Have you heard from him today?”

  “He called this morning, but I didn’t pick up. Say, you don’t think there is any way he can figure out where I live, do you?”

  “I don’t know. His type can get pretty clever and creative when they want something. Why? Has something happened?”

  Lisa sighs. “No. It’s just…I have this eerie feeling constantly. Like I’m being watched. I don’t know. I’m probably just being paranoid, right?”

  “I don’t know about that, Lisa. It is good for you to be alert to your surroundings. You never know what his next move might be. It could also just mean you have a ghost in your apartment.”

  Lisa laughs. “Come on. Get real.”

  “I’m serious. All the houses in the French Quarter are haunted. You know that.”

  “I know the stories, yes, but…”

  “Take them seriously, Lisa. They’re real.”

  Lisa laughs again. Her sister always believed in all those silly ghosts stories. When they were children, she would tell them to all the kids in the neighborhood, sitting in the garage after dark, a blanket pulled over their heads and using a flashlight. Lisa never fell for it and she isn’t going to now either.

  “I’m not kidding you, Lisa. Be alert. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Bye, sis.”

  Lisa hangs up and shakes her head lightly. She feels a little uncomfortable and talks out loud to herself.

  “Ghosts. I can’t believe she still believes all those old stories. No, Bernie is the one I should fear, but there is no way he can find me here. It’s all in your head, Lisa. You are perfectly safe here. Perfectly safe.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  July 2016

  “How could you let this happen?”

  Mary looks at Joey when they get back to the hotel room. She moans, frustrated, and throws her purse on the bed. Joey slams the door shut behind him. They have spent the entire afternoon searching for any trace of Blake, but found nothing since he disappeared on the tram.

  Joey looks at Mary like he doesn’t understand her question. “Are you kidding me? It’s my fault now?”

  He can tell by her face that she didn’t mean it, but she wants someone to blame, someone to yell at, and he is the closest. He knows that’s how she feels because that’s how he feels himself. He wants to yell in anger, scream at her for letting this happen, again.

  “Well you should at least have done something. Anything. Why didn’t you jump on the tram with him? Why didn’t you grab the handle and swing onboard?”

  Joey shakes his head. He can’t believe her. “Who is it you think I am? Jason Bourne? I can’t do that. Besides, I wasn’t even close enough to reach.”

  Mary sighs. “Well, maybe if you had run a little faster. I’ve seen you run a lot faster than what you did there.”

  “What are you saying? That I don’t want to find my son as much as you do? Is that it?”

  Mary bites her lip. She doesn’t answer. Joey growls in anger. “You’re unbelievable. You’re not the only one who lost a son here. I miss him just as much as you do.”

  “Well, maybe if you didn’t drink all that beer,” she says.

  “That’s it!” Joey yells.

  Mary turns and looks at him. “What do you mean that’s it?”

  “I mean I don’t want to stand here and listen to you anymore. I’ve had enough. I’m leaving.”

  Joey grabs the handle and opens the door. He hesitates for just one second, secretly hoping she’ll say something that will make him stay, but she doesn’t. Instead, she plays tough and yells:

  “Fine. Leave. Go get drunk and screw some woman like you always do!”

  Joey closes his eyes with a scoff, then slams the door behind him and hurries down the hallway while cursing her. He presses the elevator button a few times too many and too hard, then gets in when the elevator arrives. The floor is still crawling with police and a couple of them jump in the elevator with him.

  Joey goes to the lobby, then stops when he realizes he doesn’t know where to go or what to do. Mary is the one with the money; it’s not like he can afford to get his own room.

  He looks around and his eyes fall on a big sign where it says The Carousel Bar, since 1949. He remembers from reading the hotel book that it has a bar that has been spinning since nineteen sixty-five and thinks he might as well give it a try. He doesn’t really want to leave the hotel in case anything new comes up, but he doesn’t want to sit up there with a nagging Mary the rest of the day and night either.

  Joey walks inside and sits at the spinning bar. There’s a couple sitting across from him and another lonely guy to his right who is on his phone. A female bartender approaches him. She seems to be a little older than him, but has a very pretty face, especially when she smiles, like now.

  “What can I get for you, hon’?”

  He shrugs. “What do you have on tap?”

  “Anything your heart desires, hon’”

  “Anything, huh?”

  She smiles again and her eyes flirt with him. It makes Joey feel warm and good. At least it makes him forget about everything else for a little while.

  “You know what?” he says. “I’m in the mood for surprises. Surprise me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  July 2016

  I can’t believe he just left me. Well, maybe I can. I know I haven’t been the easiest to be around; I know I haven’t treated him right. But still. Did he have to leave me alone in this huge hotel room?

  You blew it again, Mary.

  I throw myself on the bed. I want to cry, but I can’t. I feel so empty. So hollow. I can’t believe I keep failing my own son.

  My eyes glance at the minibar and I walk to it. I grab a soda and all the chocolate I can carry in my hands, and even one between my teeth. I throw it all on the bed, turn on the TV, and eat.

  Some commercial about a dog makes me cry, finally. I stuff my face and cry. Then wash it all down with the soda and eat some more. I am pathetic. I know it, I feel it, but I can’t help myself. I simply don’t know how to get my son back.

  And Joey. You want Joey back too. Why don’t you just admit it?

  “He’s with someone else now!” I yell at no one, the chocolate wrappings rustling as I move on the bed. “Get it into your head, Mary! It’s over! He doesn’t even like you anymore. You pushed him away.”

  I sigh and fall back on the pillow, wiping my tears, when I finally decide it is no use sitting here feeling sorry for myself. I look at the chocolate wrappings and decide it has to change. I have to stop doing this to myself.

  If Joey can move on, then so can I.

  As I am in the middle of cleaning up all the chocolate wrappers, my phone rings. It is Chloe.

  “I hear you saved some guy’s life last night?” she says.

  “What?”

  “The axe murderer. The story is all over the news…how you found the couple in the hotel room. Check your blog. Everyone is writing you and calling you a hero.”

  “I’m no hero,” I say, quite baffled. “How do they even know it was me?”

  “Police report. The press knows your name by now. You’ve kind of made yourself a small online celebrity. They plastered it all over. I’m surprised you haven’t seen it.”

  “I’ve been off the grid,” I say and look at my phone while putting Chloe on speaker. I have sixteen texts and hundreds of Facebook notifications. “You know
, been busy trying to find my son and all.”

  “That’s actually why I called. Any news?”

  “We lost him again. He disappeared right under our noses. Can you believe it?” I say.

  “Well, knowing Blake, I guess it’s no surprise. At least you found him, right? Twice,” she says.

  “I feel like I should warn that woman he is following,” I say. “I think he’s planning something bad.”

  “You can’t do that,” Chloe says.

  “Why not? She deserves to know.”

  “She’s the only connection you have to Blake. If he can’t follow her, then you can’t find him or Salter.”

  I sigh. This is a big responsibility. “I don’t know…the poor woman…”

  “We’ll get him. Before he hurts her. You just have to have patience, Mary.”

  “If Joey and I don’t kill each other first,” I say with a sigh.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Worse. We’re totally turning on each other. I’m not sure we’ll even be friends after this. I think he hates me.”

  Chloe blows raspberries. “He loves you, Mary. You two just don’t know how to talk to one another anymore. You’ve got to figure it out. You’ve got to find each other again.”

  “You make it sound so easy. I’m not so sure he even wants to anymore. I think he is kind of done with me.”

  “Joey will never be done with you. That’s one thing I know,” Chloe says.

  No one says anything for a little while and I think about what she said. I want her to be right, but I am not sure I dare to believe it. If he still loves me, if he still cares for me, then why isn’t he here right now?

  “So you told me I saved the guy, does that mean he is alive?”

  “According to the latest I read, he is. Not been able to talk yet, but he is alive. Creepy with an axe murderer on the loose again in New Orleans, huh? You do know the old story, don’t you?”