Watcher
an excerpt

It was several days before I got used to the new school. After all, they’re mostly the same. It was weeks before I felt comfortable in the new house, with it’s shiny, fresh paint and gleaming wood floors. But it would be years before I stopped wondering what happened the night Eddie disappeared.
Nobody talked about it anymore. We had given up the search because the false leads had proven to be more than my parents could bear. Every time some new bit of evidence came up; some new witness who claimed to have seen the whole thing, maybe a new scrap of fabric, sometimes even a DNA sample, my mom would smile and grasp at my dad’s arm, “See? He’s still out there somewhere.”
But my father knew that nobody was going to find him. Eddie was as lost to us as the idea that one day we’d feel like a complete family, just the three of us.
As the leads dwindled, the police stopped coming. I went to school, but things had changed ever since the story had been spread over the front page of every newspaper in the area. Instead of greetings and people asking what my plans were for the weekend, I just got sympathetic smiles, or averted eyes. Teachers left me alone when I didn’t do the work.
“I just don’t know what to say.” I heard my American literature teacher say to the ninth grade English teacher who taught in the next room. “I don’t want to be insensitive. She’s normally a very good student.”
I stopped going for a while. Instead, I spent my days at the local art gallery, or downtown at the library. Sometimes I spent my days checking out my town’s second-hand bookstore.
It was there I had my first encounter with his world.
At the time I had no idea as to the significance of this meeting. I had been running my fingers along the spine of a cracked leather volume titled Tales from the Old World, completely unaware that I was being watched by a young man in the corner of the store. His ice-green eyes remained focused on me, even when I made eye contact. Finally, he approached me.
“You must be the one I’ve been looking for. You have his face.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s not over yet, Andrea. It’s only starting.” His pale eyes darted around the store. It seemed as if he wanted to say more, but thought better of it.
I watched as he left the store, the bells over the door jangling merrily with his exit. His words left me thoroughly chilled.
I left the store and stood on the sidewalk, wondering where he might have gone, but it was too late. I had lingered too long, frozen in the store, and the only people around were a couple businessmen in suits, and an old woman feeding the pigeons, humming a tune only she knew.