A Reason to Believe

by Diana Copland

  “Wait, I get to wear a disguise?” Brightening, Kiernan peered over the seat and scooped up the ball cap. When he yanked it onto his head, it was large enough that it covered the top of his ears and his forehead almost to his eyebrows. “Cool!”

  “What are you, twelve?”

  Kiernan laughed. “I have been accused of acting it more than once.”

  Matt opened his door and snow blew into his face. God, it was cold. He hoped it worked in their favor. Many of the people arriving at the house would be bundled up and unrecognizable. He turned the collar of his overcoat up around his chin and trudged through the thick snow to the back of the Bronco, unlocking the hatch, lifting it to rummage around. He found the plaid scarf under a blanket and tossed it to Kiernan. “Wrap that around the lower part of your face and tuck the ends inside your coat.”

  Kiernan caught it with a playful grin, unfolding the long piece of fleece. It was nearly as long as he was tall, and he eyed it with skepticism.

  “You don’t wear scarves where you’re from?”

  “In southern California? No, not ordinarily.”

  Matt stepped up next to him on the snow-shrouded curb. “Give me that,” he said gruffly, holding out his hand. Kiernan handed it over and Matt quickly doubled it, folding it back on itself. “Okay, open your jacket for a second.”

  Kiernan dutifully unbuttoned the leather coat and held it open.

  A gust of cold plastered the fabric of Kiernan’s dress shirt to his chest, and his nipples hardened abruptly into sharp points. The sight of them sent a startling rush of tingling awareness over Matt’s body, centering in his groin.

  Matt hastily wrapped the scarf around Kiernan’s throat and forced himself to take a step back. But his hands actually ached with the desire to touch, and he curled them into fists inside his gloves.

  “Is this what you meant?”

  Kiernan had effectively covered the distinctive square jaw and expressive mouth and the hat did the rest. Someone would have to look closely to recognize him. Matt nodded brusquely and turned to head toward the Reynolds’ house and Kiernan fell into step beside him, thankfully silent. Matt wasn’t sure he’d be able to carry on a conversation. He felt like an idiot. An aroused idiot, because the inconvenient ache still lingered in his groin.

  As they neared the house, they joined the crowd gathering outside on the sidewalk. There were dozens of people in front of them. Private security guards on duty inside the open gates were checking identification against a list on clipboards. Clearing the line was going to take a few minutes. Meanwhile, the reporters were scanning each face and shouting questions at people they recognized. Kiernan was standing on the side nearest the street.

  Matt caught his arm just above his elbow. “Stand on the inside,” he urged softly.

  Kiernan looked up at him, eyes wide under the brim of the ball cap. “What?”

  “Move to the inside, away from the street.” He glanced meaningfully toward the line of reporters.

  Kiernan followed the direction of his look. “Oh.” He stepped around Matt, sending him an amused look. “Putting your body between me and the vultures? Very heroic, Officer.”

  “I can and will stick you headfirst into a snow bank,” Matt muttered. Kiernan laughed.

  They made it through the checkpoint without difficulty. Once they were in the house, they veered around the small crowd waiting to check their coats and went through the dining room. At the door that led to the kitchen, Matt checked the crowd casually. When he was confident no one was paying attention, he held the door open and let Kiernan enter in front of him.

  The large room was bustling with activity. The caterer had covered every inch of counter space with trays, plates and glasses. At least a dozen men in waiter’s uniforms were rushing in and out through the open back door to a truck parked nearby. No one spared them a glance. They went through the door to the back staircase, and Kiernan led the way up the darkened stairs at a quick pace.

  On the second floor they exited the hidden stairwell cautiously. The sound of the large crowd below drifted up the main staircase, but the hall itself appeared deserted. They walked to the closed door of Abby’s bedroom and entered silently.

  The room had been cleaned. The bed was made, a small tower of ruffled pillows carefully arranged in front of the headboard. The powdery residue the CSI team had left behind had been dusted away. Every toy was in place, lined up on the shelves and on top of the toy box with almost military precision. Well, almost every toy. The unicorn, Skittles, appeared to be absent, and Matt thought he probably knew where it was. The realization was sobering.

  Kiernan removed the ball cap and scarf, running one hand through his hair as he set them aside. The gesture loosened the gelled strands, leaving them in artful disarray. Matt unbuttoned his overcoat but remained near the slightly open door, watching both Kiernan and the hall.

  The room felt deserted even to him, so when Kiernan shook his head he wasn’t surprised.

  “You don’t feel her.”

  “Not at the moment.” Kiernan wandered over to the small vanity with its tiny white chair and ran his fingers along the back of the seat. “I can try something. Maybe I can bring her in.”

  Matt felt a surge of alarm. “Kiernan,” he warned.

  “Relax, I’ll keep my distance.” Kiernan extended his hands, holding them above the back of the delicate chair, fingers spread. He closed his eyes and angled his head to one side.

  “Abby?” he murmured softly. “Abby, honey, we need to talk to you. It’s important.” He paused. “Abby, please. Just for a minute.”

  Matt felt something, a trembling in the air around him.

  “Abby, it’s safe. I promise. No one can hurt you anymore.”

  The hair at Matt’s nape twitched as uncomfortable tingling slipped over his shoulders. Abruptly Kiernan opened his eyes and turned his head, focusing on the closet door. Open the last time they’d been there, it was now securely closed. He went to it, pressing first his hand against the wood, then his cheek.

  “Abby, it’s safe. I promise. I just need to talk to you for a minute.” Kiernan put his hand on the doorknob and tried to turn it. It didn’t move, but Matt doubted there was a lock on the inside of a child’s closet door.

  “Is she—?” he whispered, but he already knew the answer.

  Kiernan’s nod was just a dip of his chin. “Abby, please.”

  There was a wisp of sound, so soft Matt could almost convince himself he hadn’t heard it. To him, it didn’t even sound like a word, more of a rustling.

  “I know,” Kiernan said. “I know you’re scared. But it’s all right, Abby. I swear to you it is. We won’t let anyone hurt you. But Matt and I need to talk to you.”

  A long silence followed, during which Kiernan didn’t move from his place against the door. Matt scarcely breathed. He heard another indecipherable sound. Kiernan straightened and turned his head to stare at Matt in alarm.

  “He’s here, Abby?” Kiernan asked, his voice tightening. “Here in the house?”

  Every muscle in Matt’s body tensed.

  He felt chilled at the idea the child’s killer might, at that moment, be inside the house. At the church, there had been literally hundreds of people. But the guests currently inside the family home had been invited, their names on a guest list provided by her parents. Matt turned to the door reflexively.

  He heard something just outside. Something tangible, not ephemeral—the sound of a stealthy step on carpeting. Matt lifted his index finger in front of his mouth, his eyes sending a warning. Kiernan nodded even as Matt took a step toward the bedroom door, and a floorboard beneath his foot creaked loudly.

  There was a rush of furtive steps and Matt cursed as he threw the door open, bursting out into the hall just in time to see the door to the servant’s staircase close.


  He didn’t even think. He ran down the hallway to the stairs, but whoever had been fleeing was smart. The door was locked. Cursing fluently, he ran back to the main staircase, passing Abby’s bedroom door where Kiernan stood.

  “Matt?” Kiernan called after him.

  Matt didn’t pause to answer. He barreled down the main staircase, slowing only when he came within view of the main floor and dozens of milling guests. He pushed through the crowd, excusing himself as he went, and finally made it into the kitchen. Stopping the first waiter he saw, he gripped his arm hard.

  “A man,” he said, trying to control his labored breathing. “Just came through that door. Did you see him?”

  The wide-eyed server shook his head.

  “I did.” Another waiter wearing a bright red jacket pointed toward the open back door. “He went out there. Looked to be in a hell of a hurry, too.”

  Without pausing to thank him, Matt rushed through the door, slipping on the ice in the driveway. He caught himself on the catering van and straightened. All he could see were parked cars and delivery vans. If someone had run out through the door, they could be anywhere. Dozens of people had trod on the packed snow, so there wasn’t even the possibility of footprints.

  “Shit,” he hissed under his breath, slamming his fist on the van’s hood. “Shit, shit!”

  Huffing in aggravation, he trudged back into the kitchen, searching the watchful faces for the young man who’d spoken up. He was still standing where Matt left him.

  “Did you see what he looked like?”

  The waiter hesitated, and Matt reached into his inside pocket for his shield. He flipped it open and held it up. “Did you see what he looked like?”

  The waiter dampened his lips. “Not really. He was wearing a long coat like yours, a scarf and a hat. Like I said, he blew through here. I couldn’t even tell you what color his hair was. All I really noticed was his watch.”

  Matt frowned. “His watch.”

  “Yeah, man,” the young man said almost reverently. “He was wearing a Rolex.”

  “He was going so fast you couldn’t tell what color his hair was, but you noticed his watch?” Matt’s eyes narrowed.

  His witness colored. “He slipped and had to grab the counter, so, yeah, I noticed. Besides, it was a Daytona Oyster Perpetual, dude,” he said, as if that explained everything. “Black dial with a stainless steel case and a sapphire crystal. That watch is worth a cool twelve grand.”

  “And you know this how, exactly?” Matt pressed.

  The young man shrugged. “I’ve got a thing for watches. I might forget what color the guy’s suit was, but I’d never forget his watch. There just aren’t that many.”

  Matt tucked his shield away and pulled out a small pad and a pen. “I’m going to need your name and how to get ahold of you.”

  He finished taking the information and realized Kiernan was standing behind him. Thanking his witness, his gaze shifted to Kiernan as the waiter went back to work.

  “This is how you stay clear of the investigation?” Kiernan quipped.

  “If I had any intention of staying clear of the investigation, I’d have never been in that bedroom.”

  “You didn’t catch him, I take it.”

  “Didn’t even get a look at him. What about…?” He gestured toward the upstairs with a jerk of his head.

  Kiernan sighed. “She’s too scared right now. She vanished when the ruckus started out in the hall.”

  “Crap.”

  The caterer and his assistant were standing close enough to eavesdrop. Shooting Kiernan a meaningful look, Matt led the way into the hall outside the crowded dining room.

  “Sorry. I was afraid it would go that way, but I’d hoped…” Kiernan shrugged. “We didn’t get very much.”

  “Not true. We know whoever he was, he was making every effort to hear what was going on in Abby’s bedroom while trying not to get caught, which hardly seems innocent. We also know he has an expensive goddamned watch. Which leads me to believe he has money. But most importantly—” he paused, glancing around before lowering his voice, “—we know he’s close enough to the family to have been on the guest list.”

  “Unless he snuck in through the back door.”

  “He’d have had to get past the guards at the gate.”

  “True.” Kiernan stuck his hands into his coat pockets, eyes speculative. “So, what now, Detective?”

  Matt looked at the crowd still milling near the front door. “We bide our time and then figure out how to get a copy of the list.”

  Kiernan followed his gaze, and his expression became vaguely calculating. “Why don’t you let me take care of that part?”

  Chapter Nine

  “Does it always snow this much here?” Kiernan was leaning forward against his seat belt, watching the dizzying fall of heavy flakes with fascination. The lights on the dash threw a faintly bluish tint over his square jaw and straight nose.

  “Not usually, no.” All the work the plows had done was being undone by the latest snowfall. It was so heavy he was driving fifteen miles under the speed limit, and the silence of it, combined with the almost complete lack of other vehicles on the road, created an atmosphere of intimacy in the front of the Bronco. “Usually we get one or two storms, maybe two feet total. This is very unusual.”

  “It’s kind of cool. I’ve never seen this much before.”

  “Yeah, it’s cool, all right. Until you have to shovel it.”

  Kiernan settled back with a grin. They were headed to the hotel. Aidan had told him the media appeared to be so occupied with the funeral they’d abandoned the Hilton entirely. She was in the suite, trying to make other arrangements for them to get out of town. It was apparent the airport wouldn’t be operational the next day, but the trains were still running, at least for the time being, so she was trying to secure them a compartment on the Amtrak destined for San Francisco. They’d be able to catch a flight from there to Los Angeles.

  “You never did tell me how you got the list from the guy at the door,” Matt said, forcing a casual tone. He didn’t want to think about them leaving. He saw Kiernan shrug out of the corner of his eye.

  “He was checking me out when I came through. All it took was a bit of flirting.”

  “Checked you out, how? You were almost completely covered.”

  “My ass wasn’t.”

  “Oh.” Matt’s voiced sounded clipped even to him.

  Kiernan pinned him with a wry look. “You find that hard to believe?”

  “No, not at all. I just…” He cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. “No, I don’t find it hard to believe.”

  Kiernan’s look slowly evolved into a knowing smile. “Thanks. I think. Anyway, he was more than happy to help me out.”

  “I’ll just bet,” Matt couldn’t help grumbling.

  “And I’m not leaving, by the way.”

  The statement came so out of the blue that Matt looked over at him in surprise. “What?”

  “I’m not leaving. I’m going to send Aidan on home. She’s got a boyfriend waiting for her. But I’m not leaving. Not as long as everything with Abby is up in the air.”

  Matt didn’t know what to say, but he could breathe fully for the first time since Kiernan told him of Aidan’s plans. “You don’t have to stay.”

  “Yeah, I do.” His expression was earnest. “One of the things I’ve always believed is I have this…thing, this ability, because I’m supposed to help people. Leaving now, with her caught in limbo, goes against everything I believe in. Aidan will pitch a fit, but she’ll get over it.”

  “I thought she was checking you guys out of the hotel,” Matt said carefully.

  Kiernan shrugged. “She can check me back in. I can afford it.”

  They set
tled into silence. Matt hesitated, but curiosity drove him to speak again. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure,” Kiernan answered.

  “Why did you lie to Karen Reynolds?”

  Before they left the house, they’d had a private word with Karen to fill her in on what Kiernan had picked up on while they were in Abby’s bedroom. Kiernan had told her that the child wasn’t aware of what happened to her, that the drugs in her system had kept her from being frightened.

  After a short but intense silence, Kiernan sighed. “What would have been gained by telling Karen the truth? She wants to believe her little girl didn’t suffer, that she wasn’t afraid. The truth would only torture her. Her daughter would be no less dead, and her grief only magnified.”

  “So, you revise what you get from your readings?”

  “Not usually, no. But I try not to be unkind. In the case of a murdered child—” Kiernan paused. “Those are the worst. They’re always the worst.”

  Matt glanced at Kiernan’s profile, pale in the unnatural light. For lack of a better term, he looked haunted.

  “Most of the time, when a murdered child comes through for their parents, they want to provide reassurance they aren’t gone forever, that they’re okay. In a case like Abby’s, where the memories are still so vivid and they haven’t crossed over, I try to edit for the parents’ sake. No one needs to know all the details of a loved one’s violent death. No one needs to try to live with it in their head.” He turned, and Matt could feel his eyes on his face. “Not even a cop.”

  Matt was startled, and he gripped the steering wheel hard. Staring out at the swirling snow, he was unable to speak past the lump in his throat or breathe through the sudden ache that filled his chest.

  Kiernan was right. No one needed the images of a dead loved one in their head.

  On that horrendous summer afternoon, once he’d regained the ability to move, he’d tried to go to the scene where Brad had died but his family took his keys. He went to the hospital but because he wasn’t next of kin he hadn’t been allowed to see the body. He’d almost torn the tech’s head off. If his brother hadn’t been with him, he might have. He hadn’t seen Brad until he’d been laid out in his blues, and then he’d looked more like a wax figurine than the man Matt loved. It hadn’t been Brad, it had been the shell that had housed Brad.