Someone to Watch Over Me Read online

  A concealed door on the far left of the foyer, used for deliveries, led directly into the kitchen area. Brenna, Trish, and Leigh used that door to enter the apartment. Hilda was carrying glasses on a serving tray and she nearly dropped it at the sight of Leigh’s bruised face and bedraggled appearance. “Oh, Mrs. Manning . . .” she burst out. “Oh, my Oh—”

  “I’m okay, Hilda. I just need to comb my hair,” Leigh added as she carefully removed her arms from the coat Brenna had brought her. Based on the commotion in the living room, she gathered that quite a few members of the press were present.

  “A little lipstick wouldn’t hurt,” Trish put in, reaching for the mirror and cosmetics she’d brought to the kitchen for exactly this purpose.

  “Just a hairbrush,” Leigh said absently, smoothing the wrinkles from the black slacks and sweater she was wearing. “Okay, I’m ready,” she said after running a brush through her hair.

  With Trish on one side of her and Brenna on the other, Leigh walked into her living room. Only six nights before, it had been filled with laughing people who’d come to help her celebrate one of the most wonderful nights of her life. Now the room was filled with staring strangers who’d come to pry, to observe, to record, and then report the lurid details of her living nightmare to the public. Strangers, all of them, except for Detectives Shrader and Littleton, who had just arrived.

  “How are you feeling, Miss Kendall?” a reporter called.

  “Give us a moment to get settled,” Trish told them all.

  She’d positioned a chair in front of the fireplace for Leigh to use, and Leigh sank down onto it, not because she was physically unable to stand, but because her entire body was beginning to quake. Somehow, the presence of the reporters and photographers in her home made Logan’s disappearance seem even more macabre and more . . . real. She looked up at them and reluctantly signaled the start of the interview by saying, “Thank you for coming—”

  Her words set off a volley of blinding camera lights and an instant barrage of questions: “Have you heard from your husband?” “Is there any truth to the rumor that he’s been kidnapped?” “When was the last time you saw him?” “Do the police know who ran you off the road?” “How are you feeling, Miss Kendall?” “Is it true that the two of you had been discussing divorce?” “What are the police doing?” “Do they have any suspects? Who found you the night of your accident? Was it an accident or do you think it was deliberate?” “When are you planning to return to your role in Blind Spot?”

  Leigh held up her hand to stop the questions. “Please, just listen to what I have to say—I’ll tell you everything I know as quickly as I can.” The room grew silent, except for the whirring of the video cameras. She told them why she had been driving into the mountains Sunday night, and she gave them the details of her accident. “As you know, the police haven’t been able to identify the man who found me on the side of the road,” she finished, “but they have a police artist’s sketch and they’ll give it to you tonight.”

  “Why haven’t the police been able to find your car?”

  “I’ll let them explain that to you,” Leigh said weakly as a wave of dizziness swamped her. She tried to focus on Shrader and saw him nod that he’d deal with their questions about the police investigation. “I invited you here not only to answer your questions,” Leigh continued, “but also because I need your help. Please put that sketch in front of the public. Someone out there will surely recognize the man in that sketch. He knows where my accident happened, and—wherever it was—it’s near the place I was supposed to meet my husband. I’d also like you to have a description of my husband’s car . . .” Leigh paused again, feeling very strange, very clammy, and she sent a silent appeal for help to Detective Littleton, who was standing off to the side, her face a mixture of what appeared to Leigh to be alertness and curiosity. “Will you give these people the information about Logan’s car, and anything else they can use to help us?”

  “Yes, of course, Mrs. Manning,” Detective Littleton said promptly, drawing several admiring looks from the males in the room.

  Detectives Littleton and Shrader took over at that point and answered questions for the next ten minutes. Leigh listened until they were finished, but she was gripping the arms of her chair toward the end, trying to stay upright while the room began to recede and revolve. She reached a shaking hand up to her forehead just as a reporter from one of the newspapers suddenly addressed her. “Miss Kendall, can you think of any reason why your husband might not want to be found? Business problems, or—?”

  Leigh frowned at him, trying to keep his face in focus. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “What about the rumors that your marriage wasn’t as idyllic as you’d like the public to believe—that, in fact, he was involved with another woman?”

  Leigh mustered all her strength and looked straight at him. “My husband is a wonderful man, and a loyal and loving husband.” With quiet dignity, she added, “I cannot believe you would soil his reputation, or deliberately hurt and humiliate me at this moment, by commenting on what are nothing but ugly, unfounded rumors.”

  Trish Lefkowitz decided it was time to put an end to the press conference. “Okay, people!” she announced, “that’s it for tonight. Thank you for coming. Right now, Miss Kendall needs to get some rest.”

  Several reporters tried to ask one more question, but Trish firmly and pleasantly cut them off. “No more questions tonight. I’ll contact you with updates every time we have anything at all to tell you.” So saying, she went to the front door of the apartment and opened it, standing there while they put away their recorders and notepads, packed up their cameras, and filed out.

  With her hand braced on the back of her chair for support, Leigh managed to stand up and thank each of them individually for coming, but when Trish finally closed the door behind the last straggler, she sank back onto the chair. Shrader was on his cell phone, so Leigh spoke to Littleton. “Thank you for being here, and for . . . everything. Would you like some tea or coffee?” she added. “I’ll have a cup with you.”

  “Thanks, coffee would be great,” Detective Littleton replied, and Leigh marveled at how fresh and rested the pretty brunette always looked. She glanced around for Hilda and saw her standing on the sidelines, surveying the damage to her perfect living room. “Hilda, would you bring coffee for all of us?”

  Shrader snapped his cell phone closed. “Never mind the coffee,” he said to Hilda. “We’ll take our coats instead.” He turned to Leigh, his expression intense and energized. “A state trooper may have located the place where you went off the road. He was writing up a motorist on a speeding violation tonight when he happened to notice a bunch of freshly broken tree limbs leading down from the embankment where he was standing. The snow plows had piled up a lot of snow along the side of the road there, so he couldn’t see any tire tracks or inspect the guardrail for damage, but he knows there’s an old quarry somewhere down at the bottom.”

  He paused to put on the heavy jacket Hilda was holding. “We’ve already got a couple NYPD units up there right now,” he added, “and I’ll arrange for more to be on hand first thing in the morning. Littleton and I will grab a few hours’ sleep and be up there when things start happening. We’ll call you as soon as we know anything.”

  Leigh wasn’t interested in recovering her car; she was interested in recovering her husband. “If that’s the place where I had my accident, then the cabin can’t be far away. I don’t understand why everything has to wait until morning.”

  “Because it’s too dark to accomplish anything more tonight,” Shrader pointed out patiently. “The state trooper tried to go down the embankment, using his flashlight, but it’s very steep and treacherous underfoot, especially at night. As soon as we get some daylight, we’ll be able to tell very quickly if he found the right place. And if he did find it, our teams will start combing the surrounding area by air and on the ground.”

  “But we’re losing so much time, waiting