A Reason to Believe (20 page)

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