The Littlest Witness Page 8

  Was it Fischer? John didn’t like the idea of the informant knowing where he lived. He knew nothing about the man, other than he seemed to have an eerie ability to feed John the right information at the right time. In fact, he’d helped him solve three murder cases in the past year, but there was something about the man that disturbed him. Fischer always made contact at night, and he always took care that John never saw his face, which in itself wasn’t all that unusual for a police informant. They often lived in a shadow world. What bothered John about the man was something intangible. Something that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end when they talked.

  John’s first inclination now was to go charging after the man, see if he was indeed Fischer and find out what he was up to, what he might know about the Gail Waters case. But John knew from past experience that Fischer wouldn’t talk until he was ready. He wouldn’t be found, either, unless he wanted to be.

  John set Cassandra on the floor, and the Persian meowed her protest. “You know what your problem is?” he muttered. “You want me when you want me. The rest of the time I’m just a meal ticket.”

  Miffed that he hadn’t fallen for her ploy, Cassandra stretched, making sure to dig her claws deep into John’s carpet before she stalked off toward the bedroom.

  Taking his gun from the holster he’d hung on a peg near the front door, John laid the weapon on the table and went back to his reading. It wasn’t like him to be so jumpy, but then, it wasn’t every day his father’s disappearance came back to haunt him.

  Or maybe it had haunted him every day. Maybe that was why he couldn’t buy Gail Waters’s suicide. Her connection to his father gave him a new reason to read this report again, to ask more questions, to finally have a chance to assuage the guilt that had eaten at him for seven long years, ever since Nick had accused him of being a traitor.

  Even Tony hadn’t been as hard on him as Nick had been. His youngest brother had been in love with Ashley Dallas at the time of her brutal murder. The two of them had attended a fraternity party at the university that night, and for some reason, Ashley had left the party early and alone. Just after midnight, her beaten and stabbed body had been found in a ditch near the frat house. The bloody murder weapon, a switchblade, had been found with Daniel O’Roarke’s fingerprints on it.

  Ashley’s stepfather, Ed Dawson, then head of the Detective Division, insisted that Sean be put in charge of the investigation. He was, inarguably, the best detective in the department, and he and his team set about putting together a trail of evidence that would convict Daniel O’Roarke of Ashley’s murder.

  And then, weeks after the investigation began, Sean disappeared from his fishing cabin on Lake Michigan. Even though his body was never found, everyone assumed he’d been murdered by the O’Roarkes, maybe even by Daniel O’Roarke himself. The prosecutor was able to use the families’ past history, along with forensic evidence from the murder weapon, to formulate a powerful case against Daniel. He’d been on death row for years now, awaiting appeal.

  But John knew what none of the other detectives on his father’s team had known, what his brothers still didn’t know. Sean had confided to him and to Liam days before his disappearance that he was beginning to have doubts about Daniel O’Roarke’s guilt.

  Until this morning John and Liam had only spoken of that conversation one other time. The day Daniel O’Roarke’s trial started, John had gone to his uncle, and the two of them had talked for a long time. Liam had told John how much pressure Sean had been under, from his job and from his failing marriage and, given the circumstances, it wasn’t unusual for a detective to have doubts about his investigation.

  “He should never have caught that case to begin with,” Liam had told him. “Because of Tony’s connection to the victim, Sean was bound to take a lot of heat. The pressure finally got to him. He started second-guessing himself, which is a dangerous thing for a detective.”

  “He’d been under pressure before,” John had pointed out.

  “Not like this.” Liam’s voice had hardened. “You go to that trial, Johnny, and you listen to the evidence. And then you come back here and tell me Daniel O’Roarke isn’t guilty of murder.”

  John had done just that. He’d sat in the courtroom day in and day out and in the end, the evidence had proved persuasive, overwhelming really, even in the face of the O’Roarkes’ high-powered attorneys.

  In time John had come to accept Daniel O’Roarke’s guilt, and he’d even managed to convince himself that his father was dead. He probably had been killed by the O’Roarkes. Sean Gallagher hadn’t walked out on his family, leaving his eldest son to shoulder responsibilities that should never have been his. Besides, Nick would argue that John relished the job, anyway.

  But now a reporter who had been investigating Sean’s disappearance had died. Jumped off a five-story building, his uncle would have him believe. Even Roy seemed convinced of the suicide, or if not convinced, satisfied to have one less homicide on the books. Maybe it would be better for everyone involved if John rolled over on this one, too.

  Think of the family, Liam had told him. Think of Tony and Nick and his mother. Even though she and John’s father had had the kind of volatile relationship that almost always ended badly, Maggie Gallagher had been deeply affected by her husband’s disappearance. In all these years she’d never remarried, never even once been on a date. It was almost as if she’d put her life on hold the day Sean disappeared, and she was waiting—maybe without realizing it—for him to come back home and finish their last argument.

  So, okay. They’d all be better off if he just closed the Gail Waters case and pretended the suicide note stuffed in her pocket hadn’t been too pat, the paper it was written on too clean—except for one smudged thumbprint that might or might not have been hers—and that she had a logical reason for being at that building on a Saturday night.

  Maybe he could have swallowed all that and even more, if it wasn’t for one thing—a tiny little girl with big brown eyes and a silent voice. A little girl who might be in big trouble if John closed his eyes and ears to a case that screamed bloody murder at him.

  And what about Thea? She wouldn’t welcome any more of his questions, he knew. She didn’t want his help. But like it or not, he wasn’t walking away. He couldn’t. And the sooner she accepted that reality, the easier it would be on all of them.

  BLISS KYLER OPENED the door almost immediately at Thea’s knock. She looked a little startled, as if she’d been expecting someone else. “Mrs. Lockhart! What are you doing here? Is Nikki okay?”

  “Nikki’s fine. Could I talk to you for a moment?”

  Bliss cast a nervous glance over her shoulder. “Sure. Come on in.”

  She was a beautiful girl, tall and willowy, with silvery-blond hair and cornflower-blue eyes fringed with long thick lashes that were, contrary to Mrs. Lewellyn’s observation, quite real. With her exotic looks and knockout body, Bliss could easily have been a model or an actress, but instead, she wanted to be a teacher.

  And she’d be a good one, too, Thea thought. Bliss was wonderful with Nikki, and Thea was very thankful for their chance meeting in the laundry room shortly after she and Nikki had moved into the building. Thea had found out that Bliss was a student at the university, struggling to make ends meet with her scholarship money and whatever odd jobs she could pick up that fit into her schedule.

  Thea had asked her if she would be interested in helping with Nikki, and after supplying references, the two of them had struck a bargain. The arrangement had worked out well for both of them—until now. Now it appeared Bliss had gone directly against one of Thea’s orders.

  Bliss bent and scooped up a shirt and a pair of socks from the battered sofa, glancing at Thea apologetically. “I’ve been studying all night and haven’t had a chance to pick up. And Eddie hasn’t been feeling too well lately.”

  Eddie was her boyfriend, and although Bliss spoke of him fairly often, Thea had never met him. She tried not to let Mrs. Lewelly
n’s assessment of him influence her. The older woman’s judgment could sometimes be harsh—though for whatever reason, she seemed taken with Thea and Nikki, if a little overprotective.

  “I thought it was the flu at first,” Bliss was saying with a weary sigh. “But now I’m not so sure.”

  She motioned toward the sofa, and the two of them perched on the edge.

  “I’m sorry he’s not feeling well,” Thea murmured.

  Bliss glanced toward the bedroom and lowered her voice. “He won’t admit it, but I think he’s upset by what happened here on Saturday night.”

  Thea said in surprise, “Are you talking about the woman who jumped off the roof?”

  Bliss closed her eyes briefly, her lovely face suddenly drawn and sober. “Wasn’t that horrible? That poor woman…” She shook her head sadly.

  “Did Eddie know her?”

  “That’s the really strange part,” Bliss said. “One of those odd coincidences that gives you goose bumps. Eddie and I saw her on television not too long ago. She was really gorgeous, but kind of cold, if you know what I mean, and Eddie made some comment about her being the type of woman who made older men do crazy things, like leave their wives and risk their careers. He said she looked as if she could…well, never mind. Eddie’s not always the most tactful person. Anyway, we kidded around about her, but after we heard she was dead, it almost seemed as if we did know her. You know how it is when some actor dies, or some rock star you really like shoots himself.”

  “You think that’s why he’s upset?” Thea said doubtfully.

  “Well, no. Not entirely.” Bliss bit her lip worriedly. “Eddie doesn’t like to talk about his past, but he let it slip once that he had a stepsister who was murdered a few years ago. They were very close, and when she died, it took him a long time to get over it. I think somehow that woman’s death Saturday night brought it all back to him. He’s been in a really weird place ever since.”

  A chill of unease slipped up Thea’s backbone. Had Eddie known the dead woman? Was this something she should tell John?

  But in the next instant she warned herself to stay out of it, to not get involved. Her main priority had to be protecting her daughter.

  “I guess you know the police have been around asking questions,” she said.

  Bliss nodded. “Eddie said someone came by here today, but I don’t think he let him in. He wasn’t in any mood to talk and, anyway, I don’t know what Eddie could tell the police.”

  “I think the detective probably wanted to see you,” Thea told her.

  Bliss’s eyes widened. “Me? Why?”

  Thea hesitated. “Did you take Nikki up to the roof on Saturday?”

  A look of distress flashed through Bliss’s eyes, followed closely by a glimmer of guilt. She chewed her lip. “I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t have done it. Are you going to fire me?”

  Thea ran a tired hand through her tangled curls. “Why did you do it? You know I don’t want Nikki leaving the apartment without me, except to go to school.”

  “I know. But that’s why I took her up there.” Bliss’s blue eyes reminded Thea of rain-soaked pansies. “You know how much I love Nikki, Mrs. Lockhart. I’d never do anything to hurt her. Saturday was just such a bad day. Both of us were a little down, and I thought we needed something to cheer us up. A change of pace. I knew you didn’t want her leaving the building, so that’s why I suggested a picnic on the roof.”

  “But it was freezing on Saturday.”

  “I know. But we bundled up, and it wasn’t raining then. I just thought…” She drew a long breath and released it. “I thought Nikki needed to spread her wings a little.”

  “I see.” Thea stared at Bliss. “You think I smother Nikki, don’t you? You think I’m too protective.”

  “No. Oh, no,” Bliss said earnestly. “I’d be exactly the same way in your place. I think you’re a wonderful mother.”

  Sometimes Thea doubted that very much. How many other mothers killed their child’s father? “I’m surprised she was willing to go up there with you. Nikki’s afraid of heights. She won’t even go down the slide at the playground.”

  “I know.” Bliss’s eyes glowed with excitement. “That’s why I think that picnic may have been a major breakthrough for her.”

  A breakthrough that had come at the hands of a near stranger, Thea thought, and tried not to feel resentful. What did it matter who was able to draw Nikki out of her self-imposed darkroom? Even if that person was John Gallagher?

  And why did his name keep popping into her head? Why did his face keep haunting her daydreams?

  She scrubbed her face with her hands, suddenly so weary she could hardly move. “Look, we’ll talk about this later. What I really came down here to ask you was this. Did Nikki take her doll up to the roof when you had the picnic? Could she have left it up there?”

  Bliss’s face grew pensive as she considered the questions. “She did take her. I remember, because I fixed Piper a sandwich, too, just for fun. But we would never have left her there. I know how Nikki feels about that doll.”

  “Maybe Nikki put her down and forgot about her,” Thea suggested.

  Bliss shrugged. “It’s possible. I remember it did get awfully cold up there, and I rolled everything up really fast when we got ready to leave. Maybe the doll fell out of the blanket.” She paused, frowning, then said, “Is it lost?”

  “Not anymore. Someone found it on the roof and returned it. I just wanted to know how she’d gotten up there in the first place.”

  Comprehension dawned in Bliss’s blue eyes. “The police found her up there, didn’t they? After that poor woman died. That’s what they want to talk to me about, isn’t it?”

  Before Thea could answer, the bedroom door opened and a man wearing low-slung jeans and nothing else stood silhouetted in the murky light. His long dirty-blond hair framed a face that might once have been handsome, but now looked a bit dissipated. His goatee and the dark circles beneath his eyes only added to this impression. He had to be at least ten years older than Bliss.

  “Eddie! I didn’t hear you get up.”

  “Obviously.” He folded his arms and leaned against the door frame. His voice was still groggy with sleep as his gaze checked out Thea. “You know what your problem is, Bliss? You don’t seem to know how to keep your mouth shut.”

  “WE THE JURY FIND the defendant guilty of murder in the first degree.”

  “Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!” they all chanted, and then a police officer who looked like John but wasn’t John led her into a small dark room where he strapped her to a table. A man in a white lab coat came at her with a huge needle.

  “This won’t hurt a bit,” he said kindly.

  “That’s too good for a double murderess,” the man who looked like John said coldly. “She should fry in the electric chair.”

  And then Rick’s mother suddenly appeared at her side, her laugh sounding so much like her son’s. “Nicolette’s mine now. But don’t you worry. I’ll raise her just like I raised my Rick.”

  “No!” Thea screamed, and bolted upright in bed. The room was cold, but her skin was wet with perspiration. Shivering violently, she pulled the covers around her, huddling in bed as she glanced around the darkened room. What was she going to do?

  Her first instinct was to grab Nikki and make a run for it, disappear into the night before John Gallagher could tie her to Gail Waters’s death.

  Once Thea had discovered how Nikki’s doll had gotten on the roof, she’d hoped that would be the last of their involvement with the police. But now she knew that their involvement had only just begun.

  If John was asking personal questions about their past, about their family and friends, then his suspicions were already aroused. It was only a matter of time before he uncovered the reason why Gail Waters had come to this building, and why Thea and Nikki had fled Baltimore. And when that happened, Thea’s dream might become a terrifying reality.

  Her heart started to pound. She could almost
feel the noose tightening around her neck. If she was to die or go to prison, there would be no one to protect Nikki. Her little girl would be at the mercy of the Mancusos.

  A wave of mind-numbing panic washed over her, but she fought to beat it back. She had to stay calm and rational for Nikki’s sake. She would do anything to keep her daughter away from the ugliness that had colored Rick’s life. Lenore Mancuso would never get her hands on Nikki.

  Run! an inner voice still urged her. Run and don’t look back.

  But a quieter more logical voice reminded her there was risk in fleeing. To leave here now would mean exposing themselves once again—to chance detection by someone who might recognize them.

  It would also arouse John’s suspicions even more. Thea had seen the determination in his eyes, the tenacity in the way he pursued an investigation. She knew his type all too well. If she and Nikki ran, he would pursue them, hunt them relentlessly and ruthlessly. And there was every possibility he would lead the Mancusos straight to them.

  But the most important reason not to run was Nikki. Dr. Nevin had stressed over and over to Thea the importance of a stable and loving environment. She’d told Thea last week they were nearing a critical stage in Nikki’s therapy. To uproot her now, to destroy the fragile security Thea had built for them here might do irreparable damage.

  So what was she supposed to do?

  She could almost hear her father’s advice. Take matters into your own hands, sweet pea. Don’t leave anything to fate.

  And it came to Thea almost in a flash exactly what had to be done. Although she’d concentrated almost exclusively on the business end of the firm, her father had enlisted her help from time to time in his investigations.

  She remembered an instance in which one of his clients, a corporate wife, had been desperate to find out if her husband was conducting romantic trysts with his secretary in his office after hours.