The Eyewitness

by Nancy C. Weeks

  “Dad was going to refurbish it for the patio.” Emersyn let out a short laugh and began removing the tools from the pegboard one at a time, examining each handle. When that didn’t yield any hidden crevices, she opened each jar of nails and screws. It was crazy, but she even beamed her Maglite between the pegboard and the unfinished wall of the shed. As a last resort, she knelt and tapped the floorboards. Alec quickly followed suit, checking each plank on his side of the room.

  For the next fifteen minutes, she lost herself in the game of hide-and-seek. When her body collided with Alec’s in the middle of the room, she bit down on her shriek. “That was a freaking waste of time,” she said as she sat cross-legged.

  “Joe sure the hell isn’t making this easy.”

  “Maybe there is no secret case file or mystery man. What if I just—”

  “You didn’t imagine anything.” Alec scooted to sit beside her. “Don’t mess with your own head.”

  Emersyn rested her elbows on her knees, lowering her forehead into her hands. “I know. I’m just frustrated and scared.” Then a thought struck her hard, taking her breath away. “Simba growled.” She let out a heavy breath. “I forgot that until this instant. Dad had to wrap the leash around his fist to hold him.”

  “There you go. Someone was there, and he’s part of all this. We find him, we get our answers.”

  “And our revenge.”

  Alec lifted her chin with his thumb. “No, Em. Don’t go there. Those thoughts will send you down a dark hole from which you will never recover.”

  “My dad—”

  “You told Gates you went into forensics to help victims find closure. We’ll put these bastards away and heal.”

  She lowered her back against the floor, hiding her face behind her hands. What was happening to her? The hatred she had in her heart for her dad’s murderer was changing something fundamental in her.

  “You’re a better person than me, Pearce.”

  He laid down next to her. “That’s stupid talk, D’Azzo.”

  “I’ve never felt this kind of revulsion for another human being before. I want to physically hurt him.”

  He pulled her hands from her face. “Wanting isn’t doing.”

  She rolled toward him, her breast brushing against his arm. The jolt from such a simple touch shocked her. The emotion that began pulsing through her veins had nothing to do with revenge. Her entire focus morphed instantly into the one thing that was off-limits. She wanted Alec and craved the feel of his lips on hers.

  His glare locked on her mouth. “Cut it out, Em.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Like hell you are. And we’re not doing whatever was all over your face.”

  Emersyn allowed the chill to soak through her jacket, quieting her sexual drive. She faced him, his intense expression making her want to squirm. But then a thought hit her. For the first time, she studied the glare. Alec wasn’t angry or frustrated. He was turned on as much as she was.

  Well, shit. Why hadn’t she noticed it before now? An all-purpose glare. Emersyn bit down on her lower lip and kept the chuckle at bay. She’d learned something new about Alec while lying on her father’s shed floor looking for a file.

  Alec scooted away from her. “The damn floor is freezing, and like you said, this is all a waste of time.” He jolted up, banging his frontal lobe on the edge of her father’s workbench. “Fuck,” he hissed through his teeth as he twisted farther away from her. He let out an inaudible string of cuss words before dropping to his back with his hands covering his forehead.

  “That wasn’t my fault.”

  It was, but Emersyn would never admit it. She lifted one of his fingers and studied the redness forming over his left eye. “You need to ice that.”

  He let out another deep, throaty groan, twisting his head to the side. “Well, damn it to hell.”

  “Don’t damn it to hell me, Alec. I can’t help it if you—”

  He used his thumb to move her chin, pointing at a section under the workbench. “What is that?”

  “What is what?”

  He scooted further under the table to its center. “This workbench is one piece of solid butcher block, but there’s a seam here,” he said, running his finger along a line two feet from the edge. “It’s not visible from the top side. I checked.”

  She scooted out from under one end of the table as Alec rolled out the other. Running a hand over the block of wood, he knelt at eye level with the surface and then rose.

  “No seam across this surface. That piece of wood isn’t part of this block.”

  Emersyn ran her own hand over the front and side ridge. “There’s nothing here. Maybe it’s a crack, and Dad reinforced it.”

  “He would have replaced the entire butcher block.”

  “Or maybe you’re grasping at straws because you want something to be here.”

  “Patience. It’s here.” Alec’s voice came out in a forced whisper. “We have to think like Joe.”

  “Not my strong suit. Dad and I didn’t see eye to eye on many things.”

  “Yeah, but you knew him well enough to be a pain in the ass,” he murmured as he also ran a hand over the edge and then beneath the table.

  “That wasn’t nice.”

  “Wasn’t trying to be. He loved you like crazy, Em, but damn, could you get on his last nerve. It was fun to watch.” He glanced at her with a grin that replaced the hard angles in his features. The man was good-looking when he took the time to smile.

  “You really should do that more often.”

  “What?”

  “Move your lips up at the corners and have that shine in your eyes. It’s called a smile.”

  “I know what a smile is.” He nodded at the table. “Focus.”

  She ran her hands over the edge and one side. “It’s a block of wood,” she said, unable to keep the disappointment and frustration from her voice. “It’s older than dirt, and Dad should have replaced it years ago.”

  Alec gave it another look-over. “If it’s older than dirt, then you won’t mind if I do this,” he said and rammed the frame with the back of his boot. When nothing moved, he aimed off center and gave the wood another kick.

  “You’re going to break your foot.”

  “Third time’s a charm,” he said, striking the left corner. This time, the rim popped loose, and a half-inch piece of wood sprung out. A hinged drawer dropped with a jerk. A dark-gray gun laid on top of a thick dog-eared folder held together with a wide rubber band. Three worn pocket journals were tucked against the rear board. “Well, shit,” Alec whispered.

  Emersyn glanced over his shoulder. “Shit about sums it up.”

  With the side of her palm, she slid the gun off the folder and peeled back the rubber band. “I don’t want to open it.”

  “It’s a kick in the teeth.”

  Emersyn didn’t have to read Alec’s mind to know what he was feeling. Her dad hadn’t trusted any of them with his secrets. The main question left to ask was: which secret got him killed?

  Without removing the folder from its hiding place, she flipped the cover back and scanned the newspaper article on top of the stack. Her eyes picked out specific words in the old newsprint. Joseph D’Azzo. Person of interest. Missing 22-year-old woman. Family frantic for answers.

  “What the hell?” She tore her gaze away from the article.

  “Don’t jump to any conclusions until we go through every page.”

  “But we may have found why someone wanted him dead. Is the plan still to trust only . . . Shit! We can’t let Nathan see this. He doesn’t need the distraction. In fact, I can’t tell any of them.”

  Was this bastard justifying his kill? She stared out the small window and into her family room. He’d been out here, watching her and her mother. “I have to protect them, Alec.”

  “By lying to your family? That’s not you.”

  “We’re holding back information for the time being.”

  “For how long?”

  “I d
on’t know.” She fingered through the pages and froze when she hit the middle of the stack. The photo the sniper had sneaked into her house and then loaded onto the flash drive stared back at them.

  Alec picked it up. “It would appear we’ve found the original copy.”

  “How did the creep get his hands on it? Did he know Dad had the file here all along?” Emersyn leaned her shoulder against Alec. “What the hell does all this mean?”

  Alec stepped away from the table and grabbed one of the boxes they’d carried into the shed. He slipped the small journals inside the file and put the rubber band back on. Then he tucked the gun and folder into his waistband at the small of his back. “Working the case is the only way we’ll find answers.” He grabbed a few items from around the room and placed them in the box, setting it on top of the dinette set. “If I learned anything from Joe, it was that. We’re going to carry out the dinette set and add it to the things your mom’s collecting. I’ll slip the file into a safe place until things settle down.”

  “Do you have any idea what Nathan is going to do to us if we keep this from him?” She raked her waves off her forehead. “Hell, what he leaves behind, my mom will finish.”

  “I can handle your brother. You get your mom.” He lifted one side of the dinette, waited for Emersyn to pick up the other end, and moved toward the door.

  She dropped her side, and the iron legs hit the floor hard. “Am I doing the right thing keeping this from them?”

  “None of this shit makes sense.” His tone turned icy. “But Joe had his reasons for keeping this file a secret. He also expects me to keep you safe.” He lifted the table and paused. “You better enjoy my company.”

  “Don’t go all alpha male on me, Pearce.”

  She picked up her end of the table, but this time, Alec’s side dropped, leaving a dent in the plank flooring. “I have no desire to control you, Em.” His gaze dropped to his chest, and his words came out in a hoarse whisper. “Gates is the lead on your father’s case. He allowed me to work it, but I’m on a short leash. Honestly, I don’t know who to trust but you. When all this comes to a head, your family will understand.”

  “No, they won’t, and I’ll have to deal with that.” She took in a deep breath and let it out, giving herself time to think. “Okay, we’re on the same page, and that means we both think the person after me is Dad's killer, right?"

  "Who else could it be?"

  "Angela stuck something in my head I can't shake. She said there is no proof the person who left the bandage for me to find was the man who shot Dad. The same logic fits here. We still don't know if we're dealing with the sniper or if there is someone else out there driving me insane.”

  "It makes sense to me, Em, that the sniper is focused on you because Shadow Man is focused on you."

  "You're right. Either way, my family doesn’t need to be in the middle of that hell.”

  “We’ll go through the file together.” Alec studied her for a moment. “There is one thing we have to agree upon. No matter what nightmare lies between the pages, we do our jobs.”

  Her stomach lurched. The secrets in that file might turn the memory of her father—a man who was her life, her foundation, and the one person against whom she measured everyone she met—into a complete stranger.

  “Agreed.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  A lie never sat right with Alec, even though he was sure he was doing the right thing. If he allowed the rest of the family in on Joe’s file, he’d lose control of the information his partner spent his entire career protecting. This was for Em. She had never asked him for anything.

  He kicked the blankets off him and moved toward the window overlooking the backyard. Nathan had offered his room for the night, but Alec couldn’t lie to his friend’s face then use his bed. Maybe that was the reason sleep evaded him, or the fact that Joe not trusting him with the case had broken something deep inside him.

  Alec had placed his trust in Joe D’Azzo for fifteen years, and it was that trust that defined the man Alec had become. Finding the hidden file had cracked that trust, and Joe wasn’t around to explain himself. One thing the man had drilled into Alec from the very beginning was, when a person hides the truth, they are guilty of something.

  Alec dug the file out from beneath the sofa cushions. A forty-year secret. His gaze landed on Joe’s messy, slanted handwriting. Damn, he missed his friend.

  Flipping the file open, he buried his grief deep and did what Joe would have done: find answers. Once the fucking murderer was caught, there would be plenty of time to sink into a bottle of bourbon and mourn.

  The clock on the mantle chimed twice, breaking his concentration. Two hours had passed in a daze. He had read the file cover to cover three times and finished the first of the three journals. He slipped the book behind his back as the hairs on his neck spiked. Em’s spicy floral scent slammed into his gut. The woman affected him like no other.

  “Don’t sneak up on me.”

  She dropped down next to him. “And you stop barking at me. You promised we would do this together.”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” he said, handing her the journal. “And I wasn’t sneaking into your bedroom to wake you up.”

  She clutched the book to her chest. “Where’s the file?”

  “I’m sitting on it.”

  “Did you read it?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  He ripped his fingers through his hair and cupped the back of his neck. Em needed answers so she could get back that part of her that had been lost since Joe’s death. But Alec had nothing for her.

  “I’ve been through the file several times. If this case has anything to do with what’s happening now, I can’t see it.”

  “The sniper wanted me to find the photo of Dad standing with Oliver and the other three men. There has to be a connection.” She tightened her hold on her father’s journal, tears of disappointment clouding her eyes. Lowering her head, she whispered, “Did you find out why my dad was arrested?”

  “That was a crappy headline. He was brought in for questioning about his connection to a missing person case, a woman named Katie Hughes.” He raised his hand and stopped her question. “His roommates held a party, and your dad opted not to be part of it. But when he returned later in the evening, he witnessed this woman getting into the back seat of some guy’s car. Gates was in the front seat. Two days later, Katie Hughes’s roommate reported her missing, and her parents arrived on campus, asking questions.”

  “Did the police also question Oliver?”

  “Yes. Gates claims Hughes went crazy in the back seat a few minutes after they left the apartment, demanding to be let out of the vehicle. So, they pulled over to the side of the road and let her out.”

  “They left her there?”

  “Yeah, but you have to remember that they were all probably drunk as skunks and not thinking. Gates also said they went to an all-night liquor store, bought a couple cases of beer, and ended up at another party.”

  “That’s it?”

  “No. Joe’s statement says that Gates and his friends returned to the apartment about an hour later, soaking wet. They changed, even borrowed a T-shirt from Joe, and then they left. Gates didn’t return until the next morning.”

  “So, Oliver lied in his statement.” She raised her head and met his stare. “If Dad said they returned to the apartment an hour later, then they did.”

  “That’s my take too. Katie Hughes didn’t resurface, and Joe never stopped looking for her.”

  “I’ve never known anyone by that name. How does this have anything to do with Dad’s death?”

  “I can’t find any connection to your father’s murder or the shit the sniper is doing to you.” He nodded at the journal she held. “But I haven’t finished reading Joe’s personal notes. Maybe they’ll shed some light.”

  “Is there any clue to the identity of the last man in the photo?”

  “Joe only mentioned one other name in his n
otes: T.J.” Alec flipped through the pages of the journal, pointing to a comment written in the margins. “Joe challenged Gates about the inconsistency in his statement, saying this T.J. guy was a bad coin and suggesting Gates stay the hell away from him. I think the conversation almost destroyed their friendship.”

  “T. J.?” She placed the photo on the coffee table. “Who the hell is he?” Her spine stiffened. “And how did Dad ever get his hands-on Oliver’s police statement? He was a student himself.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he hounded the detective in charge of the case until he let something slip.”

  “That’s a lot of slips. Even after he became a cop, he had no right to this information.”

  “That never stopped Joe. When a question plagued him, nothing got in his way. He wrote everything down, even the most insignificant details.” Alec again pointed to the journal in Em’s hands. “That book is made up of his impressions of people who had daily contact with Hughes. Again, impressive note-taking skills, from what each person was wearing to their body language. The man could spot a lie a mile away.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that,” Em said, a soft grin touching the corners of her lips.

  “I’m surprised you ever thought you could get something past him.”

  “I didn’t, but I had to try.”

  Alec couldn’t help smiling. Em’s expression held a glimmer of the old Emersyn, the spirited woman who would get right up in his face and give him hell. He missed that Em and was happy to see she was still in there. “This journal reads like a descriptive diary, a play-by-play of events that began the moment Gates walked back into his apartment. Joe believes his friend lied to him, and he began what he’s been doing his entire adult career, finding the truth behind the lie.”

  “So, this Katie Hughes was my father’s first case?”

  “His search for Hughes began the day he confronted Gates. He contacted her roommate so often, the woman began to believe your father was stalking her. But the roommate also gave him a lot of info. The story of Katie Hughes being crazy isn’t far from the truth. She was brilliant, entering college at fifteen under the care of a family friend who was also her psychiatrist. She was being treated for dissociative identity disorder.”