I'm Watching You

by Karen Rose

  Abe heard something in Mia’s voice, a yearning of her own. “Who do you lean on?”

  One side of her mouth curved, a sad little half smile. “Me.” She blew out an exaggerated sigh. “Even tomboys can dream of Prince Charming. Unfortunately, all I ever get is frogs.” The half smile became a rueful grimace and she pulled the big book closer. “Well, let’s get to it. How many Genny O’Reillys could have been married in 1943?”

  Wednesday, February 25, 10:00 A.M.

  Hunting the judge was proving easier than he’d anticipated. Funny how having a little insider information made all the difference in the world. Before, he’d planned to catch the judge getting into or out of his chauffeur-driven Lincoln with its bullet-resistant glass. It would have been difficult to say the least. He might have been caught.

  But now…He smiled, thinking of the miracle of the little electronic gadget he’d found in Trevor Skinner’s pocket. It was a cell phone, a date book, a phone book, and so much more. Apparently Skinner left little to chance and even less to the jury. There was enough dirt on every defense attorney and judge in the city to keep him busy for weeks and weeks. He was almost sorry he’d gone public. But he wasn’t sorry. The criminals and the scum who defended them were shaking in their boots, afraid to leave their homes alone, looking over their shoulders like their victims did every day. Thanks to Zoe Richardson’s tabloid-style reporting he knew the man with William Carson had been his bodyguard and that the prominent defense attorneys in town were fighting over the best hired guns to keep them safe.

  But safety was an illusion, born in the mind. If a man was made paranoid enough, he’d be afraid even in the most secure place. And that was his goal. To make every man in the fishbowl afraid.

  He fingered the card in his pocket. Judge Edmund Hillman. He’d tried Leah’s case. Thanks to Skinner’s BlackBerry, he knew that the Honorable Edmund Hillman had a mistress. He and Rosemary Quincy had been together for going on three years and met every Wednesday evening at a little hotel in Rosemont where the Honorable Judge Hillman was anything but. According to Skinner’s notes, this was the only time Hillman drove alone.

  He’d get to the hotel early, before Hillman was due. He’d wait and watch and then he’d make his move. Then it would be his turn to bang the gavel.

  Wednesday, February 25, 11:30 A.M.

  Kristen hung up the phone carefully, resisting the urge to slam it down as Ronette Smith had just done. Ronette was fine, thank you very much, and her family was fine, and her life was fine, no thanks to the U.S. justice system. And me, Kristen thought, rubbing her forehead. Ronette had been very clear on that fact.

  As had most of the names on her list. Kristen looked at the list objectively. She’d managed to get in touch with over half. Three had lost jobs recently, which could be a traumatic event, but they didn’t sound like she expected a killer to sound.

  And how does a vigilante killer of nine sound? Cold? Dispassionate? Insane?

  She was considering the question when a shadow fell over her papers. She looked up, expecting to see Spinnelli or Abe but her eyes widened when she saw Milt Hendricks standing before her. John’s boss. Automatically she stood. “Mr. Hendricks.”

  He glanced down at her papers on Abe’s desk, then back up to meet her gaze. “I won’t beat around the bush. I wanted to be sure you knew why I pulled you out of the courtroom.”

  “Because the defense attorneys are afraid and you’re worried about grounds for appeal on every case I was trying,” Kristen said, parroting John’s words.

  Hendricks nodded. “That’s true. But I also wanted you out of the spotlight. Somehow this vigilante has picked you. I told John to be sure you knew this was for your safety, not a punishment. But under the circumstances, I wasn’t sure if he’d given you the entire message. This is temporary, Kristen. You’ve got the best conviction rate in the city. When this is over, I want you back at work. Although, from the looks of those papers, you’re still working.”

  Kristen felt her face heat, but stood her ground. “I’m helping the police go through my old cases,” she said. “We’re certain there’s a connection.”

  Hendricks lifted a brow. “Did John tell you that you could?”

  “He didn’t tell me that I couldn’t. Sir,” she added belatedly and his lips twitched.

  “I see. Well, I don’t see any issue with that. Just be careful.” He sobered. “Stay safe. I’ve just lost one of my best prosecutors. I don’t want to lose another.”

  Kristen paled. “John? Has something happened?”

  “No, no. He’s physically well,” Hendricks assured her. “He offered his resignation this morning. I accepted it.”

  Kristen sat down and looked up at him. “I’m not sure what to say.”

  “He compromised his position,” Hendricks said simply, “and the integrity of the office. Hopefully, this will all be over soon and we can get back to work. Oh, I understand you needed information on the Jenkins boy’s juvenile record. Consider it done.” With a tip of his head, Hendricks was gone, leaving Kristen staring after him.

  “My mom would say if you let your mouth hang open long enough, birds will fly in.”

  Kristen looked to her left where Aidan Reagan leaned against a nearby desk. She closed her mouth with a snap and he grinned. “You free for lunch?” he asked.

  “You’re asking me?”

  “Yeah. Abe said you had a purchase to pick up today and I’m between Rachels.”

  “Purchase? Oh,” she remembered. “My gun. My three days are up.” Then she frowned. “What do you mean ‘between Rachels’? Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine. I’m just her shadow today because I’m on nights this week. I’ll drop her off and pick her up from school until this is all over. And don’t say you’re sorry,” he warned. “It would make Dad really mad and he’d have to kick your ass.”

  This tugged a rueful grin to her lips. “How is he?”

  Aidan shrugged. “Sore. In a real pissy mood. I think he’s more upset that he didn’t hurt them worse. Blow to his pride and all. But he’ll heal.”

  Kristen studied him carefully. “You change your mind about me or something?”

  Aidan’s cheeks darkened, just like Abe’s did when he was embarrassed. “I’m sorry I was rude when we first met. Look, I heard about the Blade graffiti on your house. Abe said you were thinking about a dog. I know a guy who trains dogs for the K-9 unit. You interested?”

  Touched, Kristen grabbed her coat. “Let’s go.”

  Wednesday, February 25, 12:00 P.M.

  “Any success?” Tina the clerk asked.

  Mia rolled her eyes. “Yes, but of course she was at the very end of the listings.”

  “That’s the way it always is,” Tina agreed.

  “Genevieve O’Reilly,” Abe read from his note pad. “Married Colin Barnett on September 15, 1943, in the parish of Sacred Heart by Father Thomas Reed.”

  Tina gave a satisfied nod. “Good. You could check the census to see if they had any children, but if they were members of their parish, the church would have a record of births.”

  “What about you?” Mia asked. “Any progress on our land search?”

  Tina handed them a piece of paper. “I remembered Hank was short for Henry, and that’s where I found it. Henry Worth. On his death it passed to a Paul Worth. It’s all I could find. I hope it’s enough.”

  Mia scanned the page, then looked up, a gleam in her eyes. “It’s plenty. Let’s call Spinnelli. We’ll need full tactical gear, just in case he’s there.”

  Abe grabbed his coat. “I hope he is,” he said grimly. “I want a piece of him first.”

  Wednesday, February 25, 1:30 P.M.

  “You should have told me you were allergic to dogs,” Aidan said, his voice full of laughter as he helped her out to his car.

  “Oh, that hurts.” Gone was the satisfaction she’d felt as she test-fired her new gun back at Givens’s target range. It disappeared once they’d reached their next de
stination—a kennel full of impeccably trained guard dogs. The first step inside had her sniffling. Five minutes later she was sneezing so hard she would have fallen over if Aidan hadn’t held her up, chuckling all the time. “This really isn’t funny, you know,” she grumbled.

  “Why the hell did you go into a kennel if you knew you had such severe allergies?”

  Kristen leaned against his car to catch her breath. “I didn’t know. I haven’t been around that many dogs. Once a Seeing Eye dog came into the diner and I sneezed, but I’d hoped it was just that one dog.” She wiped her watering eyes and got into the car. Unlike his brother, Aidan went for the smooth sleekness of a Camaro rather than the massive strength of Abe’s SUV. She sniffled and shivered as he started the engine and the heater belched out ice-cold air. “I guess I won’t be getting a guard dog after all.”

  Aidan’s lips curved. “I guess you won’t. But I don’t imagine Abe will mind filling the role.”

  Her cheeks heated despite the cold air from the alleged heater. “Abe is very kind.”

  Aidan glanced over his shoulder before pulling out of the parking space. “I’m going to have to give him some pointers then, if all he can conjure is ‘kind.’ ” Her face must have reflected her horror because he laughed. “I’m teasing, Kristen. Number one, whatever is between you and Abe is your own business. Number two, he’d kick my ass.”

  “That seems to be a common theme in your family,” Kristen commented.

  “Hell, we’re a family of boys.”

  “You have two sisters,” Kristen pointed out.

  “They have three brothers,” Aidan corrected. “It’s different.”

  “I stand corrected,” she said dryly and he chuckled.

  “Now you think I’m some Neanderthal whose knuckles scrape the ground.”

  Kristen pretended to study his unscraped knuckles. “No, I’d say you’ve advanced to the moderately stooped-over phase of evolution.” She caught her breath as he made an erratic turn. “What the—” She looked over her shoulder, then back at Aidan who was checking his rearview mirror with a satisfied expression. “Reporters?”

  “One bleached-blonde bitch and her camera-toting toady. No longer tailing.”

  “I really hate that woman,” Kristen said wearily.

  “I’d say the feeling is mutual.”

  Kristen frowned. “But I’ve never done anything to her. Why me?”

  “She has to feed off someone else’s misery and it might as well be yours.”

  “Well, still,” Kristen grumbled.

  Aidan leaned over to adjust the heater. “Better?”

  “It’s okay. I used to walk to school in weather colder than this.”

  “In Kansas, right?”

  Kristen blew out a breath. “What didn’t Abe tell you?”

  Aidan just grinned wickedly and Kristen rolled her eyes. “For God’s sake,” she muttered, knowing her face was well past ruby red. Perhaps volcano violet. And for what? A little petting, that’s all they’d done. And the promise of more, whenever she chose. She got to set the rules this time. It was enchanting. Enticing. Liberating.

  “You’ll have to get used to the teasing,” he said. “It comes with the family.”

  Kristen felt a longing so strong, it was like a fist grabbing her heart. What a family to have. She felt a spear of jealousy for Debra, who’d obviously melded so effortlessly with the Reagans. “Tell me about Debra,” she blurted and Aidan blinked, obviously taken aback.

  “Debra?”

  “Yeah, you know. The one I sound like. Your former sister-in-law?”

  He suddenly began paying a great deal of attention to the road. “No need to get testy, Counselor. You want lunch or what? I’m starving.”

  Well, that was a smooth change of subject, she thought. It would appear Aidan wasn’t comfortable discussing Debra. Or maybe he just isn’t comfortable discussing Debra around me. “Sure. We’re not too far from the diner where I normally eat.” She gave him directions to Owen’s, then sat back to try to think of something else to talk about.

  “She was Abe’s life,” Aidan said abruptly. Kristen turned in her seat, studying his profile. His jaw was clenched hard and his knuckles were white where he clutched the steering wheel. “I thought he’d die when she was shot. I know he wanted to.”

  There was a curious lack of emotion in Aidan’s voice that was more meaningful than if he’d broken down. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “It’s all right. I suppose you have a right to know.” He shrugged a powerful shoulder. “I’d been on the force a few years when it happened. I thought I’d seen it all.” He shook his head and his throat worked as he tried to swallow. “But seeing her so lifeless, for so long …” He cleared his throat. “But I think burying the baby was the hardest part of all.”

  Poleaxed, Kristen’s throat closed. “Baby?” she managed.

  Aidan shot her a quick look. “Debra was eight months pregnant when she was shot. The baby didn’t live. I thought you knew.”

  She shook her head and stared out the window, barely seeing the sign for Owen’s diner when Aidan stopped the car. “No, Abe never mentioned a child.”

  “Don’t let it bother you. He hasn’t mentioned the baby since the funeral, to any of us. Even to Mom and Dad. I guess it was his way of coping. But he loves kids. You only have to look at how he is around Sean’s kids. I know he wants a family of his own.”

  Kristen pursed her lips to keep them from trembling. Aidan thought she was upset because Abe might not want kids. How ironic. His child was taken from him while she… How very ironic. “Was it a boy or a girl?” she asked, unable to keep the question inside.

  Aidan hesitated. “A little boy. Abe named him Kyle after Dad.”

  “Poor Abe,” Kristen murmured. “To lose it all in one day.” And how will he feel when he learns the real truth about me? she wondered. She didn’t really want to know.

  Aidan shut off the ignition and the car was quiet. “For what it’s worth,” he said, “I haven’t seen him so happy in years than he’s been in the last week. You put a light back in his eyes.” Again he cleared his throat. “We’re all grateful for that.”

  “Thank you.” She forced a smile and gestured at Owen’s diner. “Let’s have lunch.” On leaden feet she moved, then frowned when she tugged on the door and it didn’t open. She peered inside where the lights were on, but every cracked vinyl seat was empty.

  “The sign says they’re closed,” Aidan said.

  “They’re never closed in the middle of the day.” Her heart started to beat harder as the possibilities struck home. “Oh, no. I should have warned him.” She ran next door to the barber shop and stuck her head inside. “Mr. Poore, what’s happened to Owen?”

  Mr. Poore looked up from the hair he was trimming, his craggy old face pained. “He’s at the hospital with Vincent, Kristen.”

  “Why? What happened?” she demanded and Mr. Poore slowly approached, wiping his hands on his white coat.

  “Some thugs, they beat up Vincent in the alley behind the diner when he went to take out the trash. This used to be such a nice neighborhood. Now…” He held his hands up in defeat. “It’s bad, Kristen. Real bad.”

  “No.” She sagged and felt Aidan’s arm go around her shoulders.

  “Yes,” Mr. Poore said soberly. “Owen, he went out to see what was the matter and they hit him, too, but not so bad. Me, I heard the yelling and called the cops and the men ran away.” He shook his bald head. “Vincent, he didn’t look good. Not good at all. The paramedics came and took him to the hospital.”

  “Do you know where they took him?” Aidan asked. Steadily. The voice of a cop asking questions. It gave Kristen the strength to stand on her own feet.

  “The cops said they were going to County.”

  Aidan gave her a hard hug, pulling her upright. “Come on, Kristen. Let’s go.”

  Wednesday, February 25, 2:15 P.M.

  Aidan walked her into th
e hospital, standing silently behind her as she asked the closest nurse where she could find Vincent. He followed her to the elevator, punched the button for the surgical floor, still saying nothing. And when she walked out of the elevator and saw Owen sitting alone in the waiting room, Aidan stood to one side, watching.

  She crossed the room to Owen’s side, taking the chair next to his. He looked old. Old and tired and suddenly frail. Guilt mixed with fury and fear and she wasn’t sure she could speak. “Are you hurt?” she whispered and he shook his head.

  “Vincent …” Owen let the thought trail away, his throat working frantically. He looked away. “He never hurt anyone, never. He was the gentlest man I ever knew.”

  Kristen grabbed his arm. “Was? Owen, talk to me.” He didn’t budge and Kristen pulled his arm harder. “Dammit, Owen, tell me if he’s still alive.”

  Owen turned and there were tears in his eyes. “His priest is in with him now.”

  It was like a fist hit her square in the chest. “Oh, God.”

  Silence hung between them, then Kristen heard the muted strain of Pachelbel’s Canon inside her purse. She pulled out her cell phone to find no number on the caller ID.

  “Hey, lady.” A woman reading Cosmo glared at her. “You’re not supposed to be using that here. Can’t you read the sign?”

  Cold with dread, Kristen put the phone to her ear. “Mayhew.”

  “You have any answers yet?” It was a male, that was all she could tell.

  Kristen trembled, but held herself steady. “Who is this?”

  “Answer yes or no, Miss Mayhew,” the voice said mock-ingly. “Do you have an answer?”

  Owen was motioning to the Cosmo lady to be quiet. “No,” Kristen said. “I don’t.”

  “Well,” the voice said, “hurry up. Next time we won’t go for old men and women. We’ll go for youth.” And he hung up.

  Youth. “Rachel.” Terrified, Kristin looked at her watch. Rachel’s school was letting out in fifteen minutes. She’d be alone. Because Aidan came here with me. Her gaze shot to the wall where he’d last been standing, but he was gone. Frantically she searched, until she saw him at a phone by the nurses’ station. She ran to him. “Where is Rachel?”