But there wasn’t. He wasn’t ready for there to be, not yet, maybe not ever. He returned the ice cream to the freezer, giving himself a mental shake. He wasn’t sure why he was so self-conscious. It was just ice cream.
When he went back into the living room, Kiernan was eating the ice cream with such obvious enjoyment Matt almost forgot his embarrassment. He finished every bite and used his finger to scoop some of the lingering chocolate from the side of the bowl, until Aidan made a disgusted sound and snatched it out of his hands.
“What?” he said, not looking remotely chastised. “It’s good.”
“You don’t need to lick the bowl. If you want more I’m sure Matt doesn’t mind if you have some.”
Kiernan turned his wide eyes to Matt, his face a youthful mix of humor and entreaty. Matt bit back a smile.
“That’s fine,” he said, reaching out.
“No, I’ll get it.” Aidan sent Matt a fleeting smile and went into the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.
Kiernan leaned back into the sofa cushions with a satisfied sigh. Matt settled tentatively on the edge of a large chair.
“How are you feeling?”
There was a pause. “Better,” Kiernan answered finally. “That was a really odd experience, though. I don’t remember ever going quite so far under before.”
“I should have told you she’d been drugged,” Matt said, voicing aloud what he’d been thinking since they’d left the Reynolds’ house. “It never occurred to me her physical state would be a factor.”
“And why would it? You didn’t know how it was going to go down.” Kiernan’s eyes regained some of their sparkle. “You didn’t think anything much would happen at all.” Matt didn’t bother to correct him. He hadn’t voiced his skepticism aloud, but he had no doubt it was obvious. “And I seem to remember telling you not to give me too many details.”
That didn’t stop Matt from feeling responsible, and guilty because he still wasn’t sure how much he believed. He stared at his hands, unable to avoid the mental picture of Kiernan lying on the cold basement floor, body stiffened and eyes rolling, slowly choking. It had been like watching Abby Reynolds die. Matt doubted he’d ever forget it. If it was an act, it was a damned good one.
Something nudged his knee, bringing him out of his thoughtful daze. He looked up to find Kiernan’s sock-clad foot stretched out and touching his leg, and the other man studying him.
“Knock it off. You didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t in any danger.”
Matt’s expression must have showed his disbelief.
“I wasn’t,” Kiernan repeated emphatically. “I’d have passed out and lost the connection and started breathing spontaneously. I was never in any real trouble, it just looked like it.”
“You’re right. It looked like it.”
“Hazards of the trade. Ones I accept. Now, let it go.”
“Do you remember?” Matt asked. “What you saw?”
A shudder moved over Kiernan’s shoulders. “All of it.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Aidan returned and handed Kiernan another bowl of ice cream, and sat close beside him. She was hovering, but Matt couldn’t blame her.
“That was sort of the point, wasn’t it?” Kiernan dipped the spoon into the ice cream and shot Matt an impish look as he shoveled some into his mouth.
“I don’t want to push.”
Kiernan smiled around the spoon. “You’re not pushing.” He swallowed and loaded the spoon again. “Ask away.”
Matt paused, gathering his thought. “It was a man,” he said finally. Kiernan nodded. “And he covered her eyes?”
“Before she ever woke up. I think it was some sort of scarf, knotted at the back. It pulled on her hair.”
Matt tucked the information away. There had been no evidence of a blindfold. That could mean one of two things: there hadn’t been one and Kiernan was full of crap, or the murderer had taken it with him. Matt was no longer sure which scenario he thought more likely.
“But she heard his voice.”
“Yeah, but…it was weird. Like he used one of those electronic voice-altering things.”
Matt narrowed his eyes. “He covered her eyes, and altered his voice.”
“Which would probably indicate she would at least recognize him, yes.” Kiernan handed the half-eaten ice cream to his sister, his appetite apparently satisfied.
“So, it could have been her father,” Matt mused, his lips pursed.
“It wasn’t.” He said it emphatically.
“How can you be so sure?”
“She was sure. Look,” Kiernan went on before Matt could voice his skepticism. “I know this is all weird to you, to put it mildly. And if you’re like any of the other five hundred cops I’ve met in my life, you think I’m either a charlatan or one brick short of a load. Right?”
“I don’t know what I think,” Matt said. “Three days ago, I would have agreed with what you just said unequivocally. Now…”
“Seeing a ghost will do that for you.” Kiernan’s eyes were level.
“You know, it wasn’t exactly a picnic for him this afternoon.” Aidan glared at Matt, her voice tight.
Kiernan put his hand on her thigh without taking his eyes from Matt. “He wasn’t trying to insult me, Aidan,” he murmured. “He’s a skeptic who just got tossed into the deep end of the swimming pool. Cut him a break.”
She crossed her arms and looked away, her mouth pinched.
“Why don’t you let me tell you my impressions,” Kiernan went on, speaking to Matt, “and then if you think I’m full of shit, I can get on a plane and go home. No harm, no foul, all right?” They studied one another for a long moment.
“Yeah, okay,” Matt answered finally.
“Okay.” Kiernan sent him a small smile. “First of all, she knew it wasn’t her father from the way he handled her. There was no familiarity to the feel of his hands. She knew it was a stranger immediately. He was far rougher than he had to be, almost like he didn’t realize she was so much smaller and weaker than he was.” His eyes looked distant as he stared over Matt’s shoulder. “And in most cases of child abduction I’ve been involved with, there’s some sort of ulterior motive involved, not just murder. Not this time.”
“What kind of ulterior motive?”
Kiernan’s eyes came back to his. “Sexual, usually. Some sort of perversion. So many kids are forced…” His voice trailed away and he shook his head. “Not this time. He didn’t touch her that way, not once. In fact, until he had her in the basement, he touched her only as much as absolutely necessary.”
Matt schooled his features to remain neutral, but he couldn’t help but be surprised. It was another detail never released to the media, that there was no evidence of sexual assault.
“Okay,” he said. “But if it wasn’t her father, and it wasn’t sexual, then what was the motive?”
“Figuring that out is your job, Detective,” Kiernan said without irony. “I can only tell you what I got from Abby. He was rough with her, but his touch was impersonal. Until he got her into the basement.” His expression was pained.
“Kiernan,” Aidan said, her hand going to his arm. “Are you all right?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Matt waited, his eyes on the taut line of his throat, the way a muscle worked in his jaw. When he spoke again, his voice sounded raw.
“Part of what I do is relive people’s deaths. Often, relatives want to know that their loved one didn’t suffer, or that it was at least quick. Most of the time, death is a painless process, it can even be a relief. But this…” A shudder moved over his shoulders. “She woke up, in the dark, with a stranger’s hands on her. He restrained her, and fed her something laced with drugs, and hauled her out of her warm bed. He forced her down into a base
ment where the temperature was maybe forty-five degrees and the air was thick with dust and the smell of mold.”
He closed his eyes. Matt saw his lashes trembling.
“She was already completely compromised by the narcotics. He didn’t have to be cruel.” His eyes opened and Matt was caught off guard by the sheen of tears. “But he was. His hands came at her in the dark and closed around her throat, and he pushed his thumbs in so hard on her windpipe he nearly crushed it. She kicked out, mostly as a reflex, so he sat on her legs. And he squeezed and he squeezed…” He broke off, clenching his eyes shut again.
Aidan’s hand came up to cover her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears. Matt felt as if he might be ill.
“It was horrible,” Kiernan finally finished, his voice strained. “It was also personal.”
Matt was startled. “Personal.”
“Yes. It was definitely personal. For whatever reason, he hated her.”
“He hated Abby?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“He hated a six-year-old kid?” Matt said. “But…why?”
“No idea,” Kiernan answered. “But whatever the reason, this guy really despised this little girl.” He wrapped his arms around himself. “The sounds he made, like a dog snarling. And he kept saying, ‘Die, you little bitch, die.’” He shuddered, and his face lost what little color there had been in it.
“Honey, you’re freezing.” Aidan curled her arm around him and rubbed his upper arm with her hand, blinking back her tears.
“I’m all right,” he said, but he didn’t look it. He was shivering.
Matt got up and retrieved a heavy green comforter from a shelf in his linen closet. He came back and draped it over Kiernan’s legs, letting Aidan tuck it in around his shoulders.
“Thank you.” Kiernan pulled the blanket more snugly under his neck.
Matt perched on the edge of the chair, his eyes searching Kiernan’s pale face. He looked exhausted. “We don’t have to talk about this anymore, if you’d rather wait.”
Kiernan shook his head. “No, it’s better to do it while it’s fresh.” He burrowed deeper under the blanket until just his head was visible above the dark green flannel.
“Okay. You said he fed her something, and it tasted funny…” Matt prodded.
“Yes,” Kiernan said, swallowing. “I think it was a sugar cookie.” Matt flashed back to the tray of cookies he’d seen on the Reynolds’ kitchen counter. “But it was incredibly salty. It tasted vile.” He grimaced. “And then he held her mouth shut so she couldn’t spit it out. She had to swallow. She didn’t have a choice.”
“That’s reprehensible,” Aidan said. “To do something like that to a child.”
Matt agreed. The very idea sent revulsion through him. “If your reaction is anything to go by, the drug seemed to work right away.”
“She started to feel it almost immediately. It was weird, like she knew what was happening on some level, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. I’ve never felt anything quite like it. She couldn’t fight him. He didn’t have to be cruel to her, after. He wanted to hurt her. And there was something else… Oh, that’s right. He smelled like candy. Butterscotch. She didn’t like it. But it was familiar to her. She’d smelled the odor before.”
“I wonder if there’s any way…” Matt ran his hand through his hair as he exhaled unsteadily. “I can’t believe I was about to ask if there’s a way to jog the memory of a ghost.”
Some of the amusement returned to Kiernan’s eyes. “She’s your eyewitness, Detective.”
“Yeah. Unfortunately, even if she did remember, she’d never be able to testify against him.”
Matt’s cell phone rang abruptly, the sound loud in the relative quiet of his living room. He dug the phone out of his pocket and checked the screen, wincing at the piercing quality of the bell tone. He punched a button and brought it quickly to his ear. “What’s up, Sheila?”
“You need to turn on the news.”
Matt glanced toward his darkened television. “Why?”
“Just do it, Matthew. Now.”
Her voice sounded tight and unsteady, and he frowned as he searched for his remote. “What the hell is wrong?”
“Turn it on. Channel five.”
Matt found the remote peeking out from under the sofa, pointed it at the forty-two-inch flatscreen on the wall and jabbed the button with his thumb. The picture sprang into focus, already on channel five, revealing the face of the local news anchor, a blonde whose name he never could remember. He stared at the small screen inserted in the lower left-hand corner of the shot, the remote forgotten in his hand.
“This video was taken about two hours ago at the North Park residence of noted defense attorney Marcus Reynolds,” the woman was saying. “Mr. Reynolds’ six-year-old daughter, Abigail, was found murdered in the basement of the home on Christmas morning.”
Her face faded as the smaller screen expanded. Matt watched himself carry Kiernan out the mansion’s front door. Aidan made a startled sound, and Kiernan stiffened in his peripheral vision.
In the video Kiernan’s head was hanging over Matt’s arm, and he shifted him higher and the dark head rolled limply, his face coming to rest against Matt’s neck. Matt turned his face reflexively to protect Kiernan from the snow, and then walked behind a tree, where he was lost from view. The video skipped back to the beginning and repeated, this time in close-up. Kiernan’s face was clearly visible. But so was Matt’s, and he felt cold all the way to his feet.
“The man being carried in this video has since been identified as well-known medium Kiernan Fitzpatrick, who’s been in town for a symposium on paranormal phenomena being held at the University School of Science. We have no idea why Mr. Fitzpatrick was at the home, or what condition caused the need for him to be carried from it, but he was clearly in distress. The Reynolds family is refusing to speak to us, and we have been unable to reach Mr. Fitzpatrick or any of his representatives for comment.”
The picture returned to the local anchorwoman. “The identity of the man carrying Mr. Fitzpatrick is not currently known. Mr. Fitzpatrick has worked with law enforcement on unsolved murders in the past, but Captain Peter Branson, the lead investigator on the Reynolds case, assures us Mr. Fitzpatrick is not advising his department. We’ll keep you up to date as events unfold.”
“Well, shit.” Matt muted the television with the absent press of a button.
“What the hell happened? Is Kiernan all right?”
Sheila’s voice was strident in his ear, and he turned and looked down at Kiernan. Kiernan was looking back, his eyes wide. Their gazes locked.
“He’s fine.”
“He certainly doesn’t look fine,” she said, sounding skeptical. “And how in the hell did they even get a video to begin with?”
“Someone ambitious no doubt scaled a wall.” A beep sounded in Matt’s ear, alerting him he had another call. He pulled his phone back long enough to glance down at the screen. When he saw the number, he grimaced, his heart sinking. “Sheila, I’m going to need to call you back.”
“I want to know what’s going on!”
“So do I. And when I figure it out, I’ll call you.” He ended the call and took a deep breath. His phone rang again almost immediately. “Perfect.”
“Problem?”
“You could say that,” he answered Kiernan wryly. “It’s my boss.”
Kiernan winced even as Matt jabbed a button, bringing the phone back to his ear.
“Yes, sir?” he said, steeling himself.
“Bennett.” The clipped voice came through the phone, derision thick in the tone. “I expect you to be in my office tomorrow morning at nine o’clock sharp, at which time you will explain to me why I should not immediately demand your gun and your shield.”
“Sir,” Matt said, but he w
as immediately cut off.
“Do not speak,” Branson ordered sharply. “Simply present yourself tomorrow morning, prepared to tell me what the hell you were doing at the Reynolds’ house, with a fucking psychic, no less! You have been removed from this case and told to take some time off. I’ve already had a call from Internal Affairs—” Matt winced, “—asking me what one of my detectives was doing on the evening news. You better pray the local media does not figure out the connection between you and this office. If they do, your career is as good as over.”
The phone went dead next to Matt’s ear, and he sighed, his hand dropping to his side.
The silence in the room was palpable. Matt closed his eyes, his free hand coming up to rub his forehead.
“Everything okay?” Kiernan asked.
“He’s less than thrilled. But then, he doesn’t like me much, anyway.”
“Why?” He looked genuinely curious.
Matt returned the quizzical look with a guarded one. “Now, there’s a loaded question, with an explanation too complicated to go into right now.”
“Ah.” Kiernan didn’t press, but Matt had the uncomfortable feeling he didn’t need to.
Another strident ringing cut through the silence. Aidan jumped up from the couch and hurried to her purse on the dining room table. She rummaged through it until her hand emerged, clutching a cell phone. “Hello? This is she…” She looked at her brother, her expression guarded. “What would you suggest?…All right. I’ll be in touch as soon as we figure out what we’re doing.” She hung up with an irritated huff.
“What is it?” Kiernan asked, clutching the dark green blanket.
“That was the hotel. The local media is camped out in the lobby, keeping an eye on all of the entrances. Apparently, they’ve made it something of a mission to figure out exactly what was going on at the Reynolds’ house.” She sent Matt a hooded glance. “And who was carrying you.”
A Reason to Believe Page 9