I've Got My Eyes on You

by Mary Higgins Clark

  “Sometimes, but I get over it right away.”

  “Okay. What time did you leave the party?”

  “Around ten-thirty.”

  “How long had you been at the party?”

  “I got there about seven.”

  “Alan, it’s important that you tell me. Did you have any drugs or alcohol before you got there or while you were at the party?”

  “I never do drugs. There were no drugs at the party. I did have a couple of beers.”

  “Did anybody leave the party with you?”

  “No, I was by myself in my car.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I drove ten minutes to Nellie’s in Waldwick and had a pizza with some friends who were already there.”

  “Who were these friends?”

  “Bobby Whalen, Rich Johnson and Stan Pierce, friends of mine from the baseball team.”

  “Had they also been at the party?”

  “No.”

  “Had you planned to meet them at Nellie’s?”

  “No, but I knew they were going to a movie and then to Nellie’s. I was pretty sure they’d be there.”

  “What time did you get to Nellie’s?”

  “About ten-forty.”

  “How long did you stay?”

  “I ate and stayed with them for about an hour.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I left and drove straight home.”

  “Did your friends leave at the same time?”

  “Yeah, we all walked out together.”

  “What time did you get home?”

  “About midnight, maybe a little before that.”

  “Was anybody home?”

  “Yeah, my mom and dad. They were watching TV in their bedroom. I yelled good night.”

  “Did they hear you come in?”

  “Yeah, my mom yelled good night back to me.”

  “At any time after you left the party at ten-thirty, and before or after you went home, did you ever go back to Kerry’s house?”

  “No, definitely not.”

  “Did you call or text Kerry at any time after you left the party?”

  “I didn’t call her, but I sent her a text and she answered me.”

  “Was it about the argument?”

  “Yeah, we were both kind of teed off.”

  Wilson did not pursue this further because he had already seen the text messages on Kerry’s phone. He also knew that he would get a court order for any other messages or calls Alan had made.

  “Alan, just a few more questions.” Mike asked, “You have a cell phone, right?”

  “Sure I do.”

  “You used your phone when you sent texts to Kerry last night, right?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “What’s the number?”

  Alan reeled it off.

  “So, Alan, you went to the party at Kerry’s house, and then to Nellie’s, and then straight home. Did you have your cell phone with you that whole time?”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “Alan, the Dowlings have a putting green in their backyard. Did you see anybody using it at the party?”

  “Like I told you before, some of the guys were on the putting green.”

  “Do you remember if you used it at any time last night?”

  “I never went over to the practice green. No.”

  “So you never touched the putter last night?”

  “No.”

  “Alan, it was warm last night. Did anyone go swimming in the pool?”

  “No, not while I was there.”

  “Did you go in the pool?”

  “No.”

  “Alan, while you’re here, I have a request that will save us some time later. There are a lot of objects at Kerry’s house that have fingerprints on them. I’d like to know whose fingerprints are on which objects. Would you consent to being fingerprinted before you leave? You don’t have to, but it will be very helpful to us.”

  Fingerprinted, Alan thought to himself. They must believe I did it. The interrogation room suddenly felt smaller. Was the door locked? Why did I agree to come here? Alan was trying desperately not to show his panic, but he was afraid to refuse. “I guess that would be okay,” he said.

  “And finally Alan, we’d like to take a swab of saliva from inside your cheek. That will give us your DNA. Any problem with that?”

  “Okay.” Numbly he followed Wilson into another room where his fingerprints were scanned and the swab taken.

  “Alan, I appreciate how cooperative you’ve been. I have one final request. Would you mind leaving your cell phone with me for a few days?”

  Thoroughly frightened, Alan pulled it from his pocket and placed it on the table. “Okay, but I want to go home now.”

  They did not exchange a word during the twenty-minute ride back to Saddle River.

  9

  The minute Wilson dropped him off, Alan rushed into his house. His parents had not yet returned from golf. He ran to the landline in the living room and paused for a moment as he groped for Rich’s number. Rich answered on the first ring.

  “Rich, this is Alan. Where are Stan and Bobby?”

  “They’re here at the pool with me.”

  “Listen, a detective had me go down to his office at the courthouse. He kept asking about my fight with Kerry. I told him that I stayed with you guys at Nellie’s until we all left together. You got to promise you’ll back me up. Otherwise, they’ll think I killed Kerry. You know I would never hurt her. You know that. Ask the other guys now.”

  “They can hear you. I have it on speaker.”

  “Rich, ask them. Ask them.”

  As he held the phone, Alan could hear his three friends say, “Sure, I will. We’re with you. Don’t worry.”

  “Thanks guys. I knew I could count on you.”

  Alan hung up the phone and burst into sobs.

  • • •

  After the call Bobby, Rich and Stan looked at one another. All three of them were reviewing exactly what happened last night. They still had a hard time believing that Kerry was dead.

  Like Alan, they would be leaving soon for college. They had gone to a movie and afterward went to Nellie’s for pizza.

  They were there at 10:45 P.M. when Alan had stomped in. All they needed to do was look at his face to know he was angry. He pulled up a chair at the table where they were sitting and signaled to the waitress, pointing at the individual pizzas at the table and indicating he wanted a plain one.

  It was clear to the others that he had been drinking. Rich asked if he had taken an Uber to Nellie’s.

  Alan’s slurred response was “No, I’m fine.”

  The bigger room by this time was mostly empty. The crowd in the bar area where they were sitting had gathered to watch the Yankees. The game against Boston was in extra innings. The shouts and clapping made the room noisy enough to prevent their conversation from being heard at neighboring tables.

  Stan was the first to speak. “Alan, it’s pretty obvious you’ve been drinking a lot. This is a popular hangout for cops. The Waldwick police station is right around the corner.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Alan snarled. “I got here okay; I’ll get home okay.”

  “What’s eating you?” Bobby asked, annoyed at Alan’s tone. “It’s not even eleven. How was Kerry’s party? Is it over already?”

  “It sucked,” Alan said. “I walked out. That jerk Chris Kobel was hanging all over Kerry. I told him to leave and Kerry started in on me.”

  “She’ll get over it,” Bobby said. “You two are always fighting and making up.”

  “Not this time. Right in front of me, Chris was telling her they should try to arrive at BC at the same time so he can help her move in. He’s moving in on her and didn’t care if I heard him.”

  Before the other three could comment, Alan heard a ping from his cell phone signaling that he had received a text. He reached into his shirt, pulled out his phone and quickly read a message. It was from K
erry. Using two fingers, he typed a response.

  The waitress came over with his steaming pizza and Alan asked for a Coke. As he devoured the slices and sipped his drink, it was obvious he was calming down and sobering up. The other three sensed that the exchange of texts had toned down the argument. They started following the Yankee game more closely when each team hit three-run home runs in the twelfth inning.

  After fifteen minutes Alan pushed back his chair. “Kerry said everybody had to be out by eleven o’clock. It’s twenty past. I’m going to swing by her house and straighten things out.”

  “Fine,” Bobby said.

  “Good luck,” Stan added.

  “Are you sure you’re okay driving?” Rich asked. “Why don’t you stay and watch the game?”

  “I’m fine,” Alan said in a voice that made it clear the conversation was over.

  A minute later the waitress came over with Alan’s check. Not seeing him, she asked, “Is one of you taking care of this?”

  “Give it to me,” Rich said. “I’ll collect from him tomorrow. Assuming he remembers he came here tonight.”

  Twenty minutes later the Yankees scored the winning run and they decided it was time to call it quits. They piled into Stan’s car and he dropped them off at their homes.

  10

  It was much too early to pick up Jamie at his job. Instead Marge slipped into a pew at St. Gabriel’s church and began to pray. At two-thirty she drove to the Acme parking lot and managed to find a spot where she could see him the minute he left the store.

  She spent that half hour in continued prayer. “Dear merciful Blessed Mother, please help the Dowlings find a way to cope with their tragedy. And please, don’t let it be that Jamie had something to do with it. Jack, if only you were here to help us. He needs you.” It was a prayer she had made to her husband over the five years since he had his fatal heart attack.

  “Dear God, You know he would never hurt anyone. But if he thought he was just playing, and he’s so strong—please—”

  An image of Jamie holding Kerry underwater haunted Marge’s mind. Suppose Jamie saw her in the pool and started to go down the steps. Maybe when she was swimming near him, he reached down to grab her. They used to play a game—who could stay underwater longer? Suppose he held her under until she was—?

  Marge’s agonized thinking was broken only by the sight of Jamie coming out of the store holding two heavy grocery bags in each hand. She watched as he followed an older woman to her car. Jamie waited while she used her key to pop open the trunk. He hoisted up the bulging plastic bags and placed them gently into her trunk. He is so strong, Marge thought with a shudder.

  Jamie closed the trunk and started across the parking lot. He walked over to a waiting limo and shook hands with his coworker Tony Carter, who was opening the door and stepping into the backseat. Marge heard Jamie yell “Have fun!” as the SUV pulled away.

  A delighted smile came over his face when he saw her. Waving the way he always did, with his palm pushed forward and his fingers back, he walked over to the car, opened the door and got in beside her.

  “Mom, you came to pick me up,” he announced, his voice triumphant.

  Marge leaned over and kissed her son as she smoothed back the sandy hair on his forehead.

  But Jamie’s happy smile quickly evaporated, and his voice became very serious. “Mom, are you mad at me?”

  “Why would I be mad at you, Jamie?”

  For a long moment a troubled look came over his face. That moment gave Marge time to look at him and, as always, realize what a handsome young man he was.

  Jamie has Jack’s blue eyes and even features, his six-foot height and perfect posture. The only difference was that Jamie had been deprived of oxygen during a difficult birth, and it had damaged his brain.

  She could see that he was trying to remember why she might have been upset with him.

  “My sneakers and socks and jeans got wet,” he said haltingly. “I’m sorry. Okay?”

  “How did they get wet, Jamie?” Marge asked, trying to sound matter-of-fact as she waited before turning the key to start the car.

  Jamie’s eyes were pleading. “Don’t be mad at me, Mom.”

  “Oh, Jamie,” Marge said quickly, “I’m not mad at you. But I just need for you to tell me what happened when you went over to Kerry’s pool.”

  “Kerry was swimming,” Jamie said while looking down.

  She was fully dressed, Marge thought. I saw her when Steve carried her out of the pool.

  “Did you see her swimming in her pool?”

  “Yes, she went swimming,” he said, not making eye contact with his mother.

  She may have been still alive when he saw her, Marge thought to herself. “Jamie, did you ask Kerry if you could go swimming with her?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “What did she say to you?”

  Jamie looked straight ahead, trying to reconstruct in his mind a picture of the previous evening. “She said, ‘Jamie, you can always go swimming with me.’ I said, ‘Thank you, Kerry. You’re very nice.’ ”

  Marge sighed inwardly. Time was always a hazy concept for Jamie. A memory of a place they visited a week ago would intertwine with his recollections of visiting that same place years earlier. Did this conversation with Kerry take place last night or on one of the many previous times she had invited him to swim with her?

  “Jamie, why did you go swimming with your pants and sneakers on?”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I won’t do it again. I promise, okay?” Jamie said, his voice growing louder and aggressive.

  “Jamie, did you and Kerry play any games in the pool?”

  “Kerry went under the water for a long time. I said, ‘Kerry, wake up. It’s Jamie.’ ”

  “Did you help Kerry in the water?”

  “I always help Kerry. I’m her friend.”

  “When you were playing a game, did you hold Kerry under the water?”

  “I said I was sorry, Mom, okay?” Jamie said, as he started to tear up. “I want to go now.”

  “It’s all right, Jamie,” Marge said, as it was obvious that Jamie was beginning to shut down. But she had to figure out a way to protect him.

  “Jamie,” she said, trying to make her voice sound cheerful, “can you keep a secret?”

  “I like secrets,” Jamie said, “like birthday presents.”

  “That’s right, like when we buy somebody a birthday present, we keep it a secret,” Marge said. “But this secret will be about your going swimming with Kerry last night. Can that be a secret for only you and me?”

  While using his finger to make a big X on his chest, Jamie said, “Cross my heart and hope to die,” as he smiled widely.

  Marge sighed. That would have to do for now. “Do you want to come home with me, Jamie?”

  “Can I watch practice?”

  Marge knew he meant the football, soccer or whatever team was on the field at the high school. “Yes, you can. I’ll drop you off. Be sure to come straight home afterwards.”

  “I will, Mom, and I won’t tell anybody I was in the pool.”

  As if he was trying to change the subject, Jamie said, “Tony Carter and his dad are going on a fishing trip.”

  I hope they catch nothing but colds, Marge thought. She had heard that Carl Carter had told people that the only problem with Jamie was that “he didn’t have his head screwed on tight.” It was a remark that Marge neither forgave nor forgot. “That’s nice,” she managed to say.

  As his mother drove, Jamie looked out the window at the passing houses. It’s a secret, he told himself. I won’t tell anybody I went swimming with Kerry. I won’t tell anybody I got my sneakers, pants and socks wet, and I won’t tell anybody about Big Guy who hit Kerry and pushed her in the pool. Because that’s a secret too.

  11

  The instant he pulled into his driveway, Doug Crowley became irritated. “I told Alan the lawn should be mowed by the time we got home. Look! The front is only half-finished.�
��

  The consternation on June’s face matched her husband’s. Their avid tennis playing kept them in good shape. Both were on the short side. Doug was five feet, nine inches tall, with salt and pepper hair combed over to cover a growing bald spot. His even features always hinted at a scowl. June’s cap-length brown hair did not do enough to soften her narrow lips and frequent frown.

  June and Doug had been thirty-three years old when they married. By then June had her nursing degree from Rutgers and Doug was working as a software engineer. They were joined at the hip by their mutual desire to have a beautiful home, become members of a country club and retire by age sixty. They were goal-oriented and insisted their only child be the same way.

  To arrive home and find a job not completed and the mower sitting in the middle of the front lawn irritated June as much as it did Doug. She was fresh on her husband’s heels when they went through the door shouting their son’s name. When he did not answer, they went through the rooms and found him lying atop his unmade bed, crying. As one they began to shake him.

  “Alan, what happened? What’s the matter?”

  At first Alan could not answer. Finally he looked up at them. “Kerry was found dead in her pool, and the police think I did it.”

  Doug was practically shouting, “Why do they think you did it?”

  “Because we had an argument at her party. It was in front of a lot of the other kids. And when the detective was here, he—”

  “A detective came here!” June shrieked. “Did you talk to him?”

  “Yes. For a little while. He drove me to his office and asked me some questions.”

  Doug looked at his wife. “Did the detective have a right to do that?”

  “I don’t know. He did turn eighteen last month.” She looked at her son. “Alan, exactly what happened to Kerry?”

  His voice halting, Alan told them what he had learned. Kerry had been found in her pool this morning. “They think somebody hit her over the head and pushed her in and she drowned.”

  It ran through June’s mind to tell Alan that they knew how much he had cared about Kerry. There would be time for that later. Right now, the tremendous impact of what they had heard and how it might affect Alan made it absolutely necessary to protect her son any way she could.