John shrugged. “I’m working on a couple of leads. I’ll let you know if they pan out.”
“You do that.” Roy twirled the ends of his handlebar mustache as he studied John curiously. Roy looked, all of a sudden, like the cat who had swallowed the canary, and John couldn’t help wondering why.
THEA PEERED through the peephole in John’s front door at the redhead who stood on the porch. From what Thea could see, the woman was tall and thin, but from the distorted view through the peephole, Thea couldn’t detect the freckles.
Opening the door a fraction, Thea said, “Yes?”
The woman smiled at her. She was very attractive, in a flamboyant sort of way, with her thick curly red hair and brilliant blue eyes. She smiled at Thea, holding up a department-store shopping bag. “I’m Fiona, John’s sister. He said you’d be expecting me.”
Thea paused, drawn to the woman’s friendly face, but she knew to be cautious, even without John’s warning. “He said I should make you show me your ID,” she said apologetically.
The redhead laughed good-naturedly. “That sounds like John. Always protective.” She set down the shopping bag and fished in her shoulder bag for her wallet, then held up her driver’s license. “Fiona Colleen Gallagher,” she said, giving Thea a wry look. “Can you get any more Irish than that?”
The name suited her red hair, Thea decided, as she opened the door to let Fiona enter. The scent of jasmine filled the air as John’s sister strode with familiar ease into the living room.
Nikki was sitting in front of the fire, drawing in a notebook Thea had found for her in the kitchen. There were no toys in John’s house, nothing with which to occupy a four-year-old child, even one as quiet as Nikki. But she wasn’t complaining. Gripping a pencil tightly in her fist, she concentrated on the picture she was drawing, not even glancing up when Fiona came into the room.
“This must be Nikki.” Fiona’s voice was soft and lyrical. She didn’t look anything like John. The only resemblance Thea could detect was their blue eyes.
Fiona slipped out of her coat, revealing black pants and a black turtleneck sweater. She looked very chic, and by comparison, Thea felt dowdy in pajamas and a robe. It was the middle of the morning. She didn’t like not being able to get dressed.
Fiona sat down on the hearth near Nikki, but not so close that she would alarm her. Nikki glanced up, curiosity getting the better of her, then ducked her head back down to her drawing.
“I have something for you,” Fiona said to the little girl. “John told me how much you love to color. I can see that you’re quite an artist, too.” She pulled a coloring book and a box of crayons from her shopping bag and lay them on the floor near Nikki. “I’ve brought you some games, too, some of my all-time favorites. I’ll teach you how to play if you like.”
Nikki still didn’t react, but she inched closer to the crayons.
Thea said, “That was very thoughtful of you, Fiona. Thank you so much.”
The redhead shrugged. “Don’t mention it. John told me a little about you and Nikki.” Her gaze met Thea’s, and sympathy flashed through her eyes before she quickly subdued it. “Anyway, he called and asked me to pick up a few things he thought the two of you might need. He…sort of described you, and I guessed at your sizes. I hope everything fits.”
“You didn’t have to go shopping for us,” Thea said. “I could have gone home and gotten everything we needed.”
“John didn’t seem to like that idea. Anyway, he gave me carte blanche, so I went to Marshall Field’s. That’ll teach him.” Her smile was so charming, Thea couldn’t help but relax around her. “Would you like to go get dressed? I can stay out here with Nikki.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Thea murmured, trying to gauge her daughter’s reaction. Nikki had abandoned her drawing for the coloring book and crayons. She seemed oblivious to both Thea and Fiona. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. Take your time.” Fiona handed Thea the shopping bag, and as Thea headed for the bathroom, she heard the redhead talking to Nikki in her soft musical voice.
John had told Thea that his brothers were all police officers, but he’d never mentioned what his sister did for a living. Was she a cop, too? Was that why she was here? To try to extract information from her?
She scolded herself for her suspicions, but Thea knew she had every right to be cautious. If John had found the button from her uniform in Gail Waters’s office, his suspicions would be deeply aroused.
Taking a quick shower and drying off, Thea found everything she needed in the bag, including toiletries and even lipstick and mascara. Pulling on a pair of beautifully tailored gray slacks and a cream sweater—the kind of clothes she’d once taken for granted—she felt less vulnerable. She hurried back out to find Fiona and Nikki engaged in a friendly game of Chutes and Ladders. The redhead clapped enthusiastically when Nikki made a strategic move.
“You’ve played this before, I can see,” Fiona told her.
“We used to play it all the time,” Thea said. But Nikki had lost interest in almost everything except coloring and her doll after that terrible night. But all of a sudden she seemed to be making a remarkable recovery. What was it about the Gallaghers that drew Nikki out of her shell? What was it about John—and now his sister—that made Thea yearn for the closeness she’d once shared with her father and Mona?
John Gallagher was exactly the kind of man Thea’s father would have wanted for her. Strong, protective, but with an innate goodness that made him the antithesis of Rick. But it was that innate goodness, that strong sense of right and wrong, that made him so dangerous to her now.
After they finished their game, Fiona got up from the floor and sat on the sofa beside Thea. “So tell me what’s going on between you and my brother,” she said bluntly.
Thea glanced at her in shock. “I…don’t know what you mean. Surely he must have told you what happened, why Nikki and I are here.”
Fiona shrugged. “John’s the strong silent type, but I guess you’ve probably figured that out for yourself.”
When Thea didn’t comment, Fiona went on, “Nick, my middle brother, is the hothead, and Tony, the youngest, is the loner. The Gallaghers have managed to produce all the stereotypes, and throw in the fact that we’re Irish, stubborn and opinionated as hell, you’ve got a real bloodbath at family gatherings.”
Thea smiled. “I’ll bet it’s not as bad as all that.”
“We have our moments.” Fiona’s expression clouded briefly, then she brightened. “Why don’t you get John to bring you and Nikki over tomorrow night? You can see for yourself.”
“Tomorrow night?” There was a distinct possibility Thea and Nikki wouldn’t be anywhere near Chicago tomorrow night.
“My mother’s throwing a retirement party for one of the captains on the force. He was one of my father’s best friends, so the whole family will be there, along with a good portion of the Chicago Police Department.”
The very thought of being in a roomful of cops was more than a little unnerving. Thea managed a polite smile. “Thanks. That’s very nice of you.”
“You may not think so once you’re there. It’s not unusual to have a brawl when my brothers and cousins get together. Especially if my cousin, Kaitlin, and her husband show.”
She seemed to expect a response, so Thea inquired mildly, “There’s a family problem?”
Fiona rolled her eyes. “It’s so stupid. Have you ever heard the story of the Hatfields and the McCoys?”
“Of course.” Thea watched Nikki for a moment, her thoughts more on her and her daughter’s predicament than on what Fiona was telling her.
“My family has been embroiled in a ridiculous feud for over seventy years. The Gallaghers and the O’Roarke’s,” she said dramatically, then immediately sobered. “There’s even been bloodshed.”
“What happened?” Thea asked, interested in spite of herself.
Fiona settled back against the cushions, gazing at the fi
re. She told the story as if she’d heard it a million times before. “My grandfather, William Gallagher, came over from Ireland with his best friend, James O’Roarke, when the two of them were just teenagers. They were like brothers—until they both fell in love with the same woman.
“The rivalry made them bitter enemies. When Colleen—my grandmother—fell in love with James O’Roarke, it broke my grandfather’s heart. He joined the Chicago Police Department while James turned to the other side of the law. He made a fortune bootlegging, sort of an Irish Al Capone, and when my grandmother found out what he was up to, she broke off their engagement. She eventually married my grandfather.”
“Sounds very romantic,” Thea said, but she couldn’t help wondering why Fiona was telling her all this. What did it have to do with her?
“Not really,” Fiona said sadly. “I don’t think my grandmother ever got over her love for James, and my grandfather hated him even more because of it. He made it his life’s work to bring down the O’Roarkes, and the bitterness between the two families has continued over the years. My brother Nick has always been convinced that an O’Roarke killed our father, even though Dad’s body was never found.”
Thea glanced at her in surprise. “Your father’s body was never found?”
Fiona shook her head. “He left for a fishing trip one Friday afternoon, and we never saw him again.”
John’s father had disappeared. Thea’s heart began to beat a painful tattoo. She wasn’t sure yet of the significance of this revelation, but somehow she knew it was important, knew it might be connected to Gail Waters.
“Anyway,” Fiona continued, “to make a long story even longer, my cousin Kaitlin committed the unpardonable sin of marrying an O’Roarke. Even though her husband, Dylan, is a great guy, my Uncle Liam has basically disowned his daughter. I feel sorry for them both, only—” Fiona’s tone became wistful “—I do sometimes wonder what it would be like to love someone so much you’d defy both your families to be together.”
Thea wondered what that kind of love would be like, too, and unaccountably, she thought of John. What would he do if he found out the truth about her past? Would he defy the law to protect her? Would he turn against his own family, the brotherhood of cops who stood together through thick and thin?
Why would he? He wasn’t in love with her any more than she was in love with him. They’d met less than a week ago, and if she’d learned anything during her painful marriage to Rick, it was that only fools rush in.
“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for us,” Thea said warmly. She gazed down at her slacks and sweater. The size was nearly perfect. “But…I wonder if I could ask another favor of you.”
“Name it,” Fiona said. “I’ve got the rest of the day off, and I don’t have anything planned for another—” she glanced at her watch “—three hours or so.”
“It shouldn’t take that long,” Thea told her. “I need to go out for a while, run an errand that can’t wait until John gets home. Would you look after Nikki for me? I’ll be back as fast as I can.”
“Well, sure, but didn’t John want you to stay put?”
“This won’t take long.”
Fiona shrugged. “I don’t mind staying with Nikki. In fact, I’d adore it.” She reached in her purse and pulled out some bills. “Here. Won’t you need money for a cab?”
“I can take the El.”
Fiona got up and tucked the money into Thea’s coat pocket. “Take a cab. It’ll be faster, and besides, I’ll add it to John’s tab.”
JOHN COULDN’T GET that 911 tape out of his mind all morning. If he hadn’t found the white button in Gail Waters’s office last night and if he hadn’t found out a button was missing from one of Thea’s uniforms, he might not have recognized her voice on the tape. She’d only said a few words and her voice was very rushed and muffled, but considering everything else, he had very little doubt that it was Thea. She’d been in Gail Waters’s office the night before, but why? What had she been looking for?
He shouldn’t be so surprised, John thought as he drove along Lake Shore Drive. From the moment he’d first laid eyes on her, he’d known she was hiding something. Now he had to figure out what that something was—and what it had to do with Gail’s death.
But even after finding the button and hearing her voice on the tape, John still had a hard time thinking of Thea as a suspect. He’d been a cop long enough to know there was no set MO for murderers, and he sure as hell knew that appearances could be deceiving. Just because Thea was small and a female didn’t mean she couldn’t have been on the roof that night. She could have taken Gail by surprise, pushed her from behind. Hell, anything was possible.
But a murderer? Somehow John couldn’t make himself believe it, and he realized his qualms had less to do with her physical appearance and more to do with his growing feelings for her. He didn’t want to believe her capable of murder. He didn’t want to think he could be that taken in by someone, but it happened all the time. Cops could be gullible, too.
He found a parking space near Baxter House, the luxury lakeside high-rise where Superintendent Dawson lived—or had, until he and his wife split up. Flashing his shield and ID to the doorman, John rode the elevator up to the ninth floor and then made his way to the unit at the far end of the hallway.
He rang the bell, then glanced around as he waited for someone to answer. The carpet in the hallway was a plush silvery gray, so thick his footsteps had been completely muted. Oil paintings hung along the corridor, adorning the spaces over antique tables and fresh flower arrangements in crystal vases.
It was a far cry from the old neighborhood, John thought, an image suddenly popping into his head of the house where the Dawsons had once resided, two doors down from the house John’s mother and grandmother still lived in.
There’d been flowers there, too, but not the white artful arrangements gracing this elegant hallway. Annette Dawson had been partial to geraniums back then, he remembered. Her window boxes had always been the most colorful in the neighborhood. But after Ashley’s murder, Mrs. Dawson had let the flowers wither and die, and soon after, the family had moved away.
When the door was finally answered, John saw a look of shock flash across the woman’s face, followed quickly by a look of alarm. Annette Dawson was a tall thin woman who had once been very attractive, but the years following her daughter’s murder had not been kind to her. Her face was heavily lined in spite of the camouflage of makeup, and her blond hair was streaked with gray.
“John? John Gallagher?”
He smiled. “Hello, Mrs. Dawson. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“I can’t even remember the last time I saw you.” She rested her hand on the door frame. John noticed she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. “It must have been Robert Keaton’s retirement party. Or maybe Dave Torrey’s.”
“May I come in?” John asked politely. “I won’t take up much of your time.”
She hesitated, then moved back for him to enter. Leading him into an almost entirely white living room, she motioned toward an elegant sofa. John was almost afraid to sit on it. He perched on the edge, watching Mrs. Dawson as she gravitated toward the ornate fireplace. There were logs in the grate, but the fire wasn’t lit. She didn’t seem to notice as she stood with her back to the hearth.
“So what’s this about, John? Or should I call you Detective? I assume you’re here in a professional capacity.”
He nodded. “I need to ask you some questions about your stepson, Eddie.”
Her fingers fluttered upward to trace the smooth swirl of her hair. “What about him?”
“I have reason to believe he’s living in the building where a woman died recently. You probably heard about it on TV. The victim was a local reporter.” John watched the emotions flicker across her face—fear, anger, determination. He wondered what they all meant. “I’d like for you to give me his address.”
“Why?” she said coldly.
He lifted a
brow at her tone. “Because I’m investigating the case and I want to ask him some questions.”
“I understood that woman’s death was a suicide. Why would you need to talk to Eddie about that?” Her gaze was almost hostile now, and John knew he was putting his career on the line by even coming here.
His uncle had warned him that he was treading on very dangerous ground, and now, as he watched the anger flash in Annette Dawson’s gray eyes, he realized what he was up against. She was still the superintendent’s wife, and by coming here, he had put himself on the outside. He’d pitted himself against the Brotherhood.
We take care of our own. That’s how it works.
“Look, Mrs. Dawson, you and my mother have been friends for a long time. I don’t like coming here, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t. I’m going to ask you again where I can find Eddie.”
He thought for a moment she wasn’t going to answer, then she shrugged. “He’s been estranged from the family for years. I don’t know where he is.”
“I think you do,” John said bluntly.
She gazed at him coldly, her demeanor one of haughty aloofness, and then she seemed to crumble before his very eyes. Her shoulders slumped and she crossed to a brocade armchair and sat. Her hands gripped the carved wood so tightly her knuckles whitened. “I’m sure you’ve heard that my husband and I are separated.”
“I’m sorry,” he said noncommittally.
“Things haven’t been right with our family since Ashley’s death.”
“It’s been rough for a lot of people,” John said.
She nodded. “I don’t want to have to live through that again. After all these years I don’t want to see Ashley’s name splashed across the front pages again. I don’t want to have to view those ghastly pictures. Is it too much to ask that my child be allowed to rest in peace?”
“I understand how you feel. But Ashley’s murderer is sitting on death row at this very minute. Doesn’t Gail Waters deserve the same justice?”
“She got what she deserved.”
“I beg your pardon?” John couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.
The Littlest Witness Page 15