My friend Emma once asked me which sense I’d rather lose – my hearing or my sight. The answer was obvious to me, and to Emma too I’m sure. I don’t know what I’d do without my hearing. I’m a musician. I love music. And as my grandpa once told me in a letter, you don’t even need to make music yourself. It’s everywhere if you’re lucky enough to hear it.
Grandpa Nate is a musician too. Back in the 70s and early 80s, he played bass for a quasi-famous metal band called Prism. He’s a total recluse now, and he distrusts everything, especially the police, doctors and the internet. He doesn’t even have a cell phone because he’s afraid of getting tracked. But he apparently trusts the US Postal Service, because he writes me pretty often. He doesn’t ask me about myself — he just tells me what a dangerous place the world is and who and what I should watch out for. Most of the time, I skim his letters. That one thing he said, though. About music being everywhere. That’s stayed with me.
I can hear the music now — the skitter of a squirrel’s paws on the roof, the groan of the pipes as my dad takes a shower, my mom’s muffled voice through my bedroom wall, asking him something. I think it’s, did you remember to fill up the tank, but the words aren’t important. Just the sound of them, half an octave lower than the pipes, the uptick at the end. Harmony.
I can’t see a thing. I like that. My blackout shades are drawn and I’m lying in bed in the perfect, peaceful darkness, listening. I do this every morning.
I check the clock on my phone. I don’t need to be up just yet. They’re driving me to college today, my mom and dad. Ithaca. It’ll be the first time I’ve lived anywhere but Elizabethville, New York. I’m excited and a little nervous. But mostly, I’m relieved to be getting out of town. Don’t get me wrong. I’ll miss my parents and my friends. It’s just…
I’ve never said this to anyone because it sounds crazy. But sometimes, I’ll be at school, or walking down the street or even at home, and I’ll get the weirdest feeling – like I’m being watched. Once or twice, I’ve caught people staring at me. Strangers. I probably just look familiar to them. But sometimes, it gets to me. Even now, just thinking about it, I feel twitchy. Maybe I’m paranoid like Grandpa Nate. It isn’t out of the realm of possibility. We’re genetically related. We both smoke a lot of weed.
I slip out of bed and feel around in the dark until I find my bass. I don’t want Mom and Dad to know I’m awake, so I pick it up very quietly and slip the strap over my shoulder. Without plugging it in, I play a natural minor scale, then move on to a pentatonic scale, then a Lydian. This soothes my nerves. My fingers on the strings, the perfection of each individual note. Before long, I feel better. Like I’m in control of things.
There’s a knock on my door. Dad’s knock. Dad’s voice. “Wake up, sleepyhead!”
I switch the lights on, and for a moment, I miss it. That velvety, safe darkness. “I’m up!” I call out.
Last night, Mom asked me if I’m ready for “the big adventure.” At the time, I found the question annoying. But not now.
I’m ready. I am ready. I think.
We Are Watching
Genre: Psychological Thriller
Release: January 2025
Format: Print, Digital, Audio
Purchase Link
From USA Today bestselling and Edgar and Shamus Award–winning author Alison Gaylin comes a slick, riveting, and all-too-plausible tale of psychological suspense where a mother is desperate to protect her family as they become targets of a group of violent conspiracy theorists.
Sometimes the world is out to get you.
Meg Russo was behind the wheel when it happened. She and her husband Justin were driving their daughter Lily to Ithaca College, the family celebrating the eighteen-year-old music prodigy’s future. Then a car swerved up beside them, the young men inside it behaving bizarrely—and Meg lost control of her own vehicle. The family road trip turned into a tragedy. Justin didn’t survive the accident.
Four months later, Meg works to distract herself from her grief and guilt, reopening her small local bookstore. But soon after she returns to work, bizarre messages and visitors begin to arrive, with strangers threatening Meg and Lily in increasingly terrifying ways. They are obsessed with a young adult novel titled The Prophesy, which was published thirty years earlier. An online group of believers are convinced that it heralds the apocalypse, and social media posts link the book—and Meg’s reclusive musician father—to Satanism. These conspiracy theorists vow to seek revenge on The Prophesy’s author…Meg.
As the threats turn violent, Meg begins to suspect that Justin’s death may not have been an accident. To find answers and save her daughter, her father, and herself, Meg must get to the root of these dangerous lies—and find a way to face the believers head-on … before it’s too late.
About the author
USA Today and international bestselling author Alison Gaylin has won the Edgar and Shamus awards. Her short stories have been chosen for Best American Mysteries and Suspense and Best Mystery Stories of the Year, and her books have been nominated for numerous awards, including the Strand Book Award, the Los Angeles Times Book Prize, the ITW Thriller Award and the Anthony and Macavity awards. In addition to her own books, she has the honor of writing Robert B. Parker’s Sunny Randall series. We Are Watching is her 15th book. It was released January 28th from William Morrow.