A Reason to Believe (33 page)

assuming your visit has something to do with my

conversation with Sheila?”

“It does,” Matt acknowledged. “I’d appreciate

being able to ask you a few questions.”

“Let’s take this to the lobby, shall we?” They

followed her out back into the area facing the

street. Toni gracefully took a seat in a chair and

Matt and Kiernan sat side by side on a small black

leather loveseat.

“I don’t mind you asking your questions,” she

began easily. “I’ll decide once I’ve heard them if

I’m going to answer them or not. I will not divulge

anything I’ve specifically been asked not to

discuss. You’d be surprised what people tell their

hairdresser. We’re right up there with priests and

bartenders. If I start revealing things I’ve been

asked not to, I lose more than clients. I lose

friendships, and I won’t risk it. Unless you’re here

in an official capacity, and then I doubt I’d have

any choice.”

“I’m not here in an official capacity. Something

I guess you already knew, considering Sheila came

to you first, and I haven’t flashed my shield.”

“I figured as much, yes. That, and the presence

of your charming companion instead of another

detective.”

Kiernan grinned. “How do you know I’m not a

cop?”

Her cheeks dimpled. “Totally aside from the

fact that you’re entirely too cute to be one, I’ve

seen your show on cable. You’re very good, by the

way.”

“Thanks.”

She patted his hand, then turned her attention to

Matt. “So.” She lifted her chin, her eyes piercing

with both intelligence and challenge. “Within the

parameters I already mentioned, how can I help

you?”

Matt couldn’t help but grudgingly admire her

loyalty. “Okay, you told Sheila about a client of

yours, a woman who buys her husband a top-of-

the-line Rolex every Christmas…”

“Samantha Mitchell, yes. It’s not a secret.

Marcel at Klein’s orders in a selection for her

each October, and she chooses which one she

likes. It’s usually the gaudiest one available.

Sam’s taste is impeccable, but Patrick’s isn’t. For

such a self-possessed man, he certainly does like

his bling.”

Matt felt a low thrum of excitement. “Perhaps

it’s a countermeasure against all of those black

suits he wears,” he said, attempting to keep the

tone light.

“Possibly,” she agreed. “I always think jewelry

is a far more telling indication of personality than

wardrobe.”

“You may be right about that,” Matt said. “So,

every November, Samantha Mitchell picks out a

new Rolex for her husband. Do you have any idea

how long she’s been doing this?”

“Well, they’ve been married for at least fifteen

years.”

“So, he’s got maybe fifteen watches, the least of

which is worth in the neighborhood of twelve

grand? I hope they have a safe deposit box.”

“Oh, I’m quite certain they do. But I don’t

believe Patrick has kept all of the watches.”

Matt’s stomach churned. “So, he’s sold them,

then?” It would make the most sense, but it would

also make the job of tracking them down that much

more difficult. He had a sudden urge to curse. If

Mitchell was no longer in possession of the

watch…

“No, I believe when he gets a new one, he gives

the old model to his stepson. Samantha says it’s a

bit of a family tradition. Patrick wraps them up

each year, but the son knows what at least one of

his gifts contains.”

Matt straightened. “Would you happen to know

about the one called the—”

“Daytona Oyster?” Toni interrupted, her

expression sly. “Unusual name, isn’t it?”

“Very.”

“I believe the Oyster was the last watch Patrick

Mitchell gave to his stepson. Apparently, there

was some sort of falling out within the family after

that, and Sam doesn’t talk about him much

anymore.”

Matt licked his suddenly dry lips. “You have no

idea what sort of falling out?”

“None whatsoever. I could assume, however, it

was something to do with the family business.”

“What makes you think so?”

She shrugged. “Just a feeling.”

“Okay.” Matt took a deep breath, trying to

moderate the sudden rapid beating of his heart.

“Do you know what Samantha Mitchell’s son’s

name is?”

Toni frowned. “You know, ever since Sheila

asked me about the watches this morning, I’ve

been trying to remember if Samantha has ever

mentioned his name. I’ve been doing her hair for

years, but she’s never told me. I think it’s

extremely odd she hasn’t, don’t you?”

“Extremely. Any idea why that might be?”

“Not a one. All I can tell you about him is he

was the recipient of a very expensive hand-me-

down watch for several years, and he seems to be

addicted to a certain candy his mother orders for

him each year from Lawton’s. She buys him a case.

I made a joke once about how he could not

possibly have any teeth left in his head, and she

just smiled.”

Matt forced himself to remain still and

outwardly calm as he asked the next question.

Kiernan’s knee began to jiggle. “You don’t have

any idea what sort of candy, do you?”

“Old-fashioned hard candies. Butterscotch.”

Matt heard Kiernan’s sharp inhalation. “Thank

you, Toni. This has been very helpful.” He stood,

waiting for her to do the same. Kiernan scrambled

to his feet beside him.

“That’s important, isn’t it?” she said. “The

candy.”

“More than I can ever tell you.” He took her

hand and helped her to her feet. “I’d appreciate it

if you wouldn’t say anything about our visit…”

“Oh, I’d already figured that was a given, Matt,”

she said. “Can I venture a guess as to what you’re

working on?”

Matt looked at her solemnly. “I wish you

wouldn’t. I can neither confirm or deny.”

She nodded. “I understand. Just, allow me to tell

you how very much I hope it helps.” She squeezed

his hand between both of hers. “Karen Reynolds is

my client as well, and I was very fond of Abby.”

Matt nodded, but his mind was already racing

ahead.

* * *

bouncing in the passenger seat.

“Her son has a watch like the one our witness

saw on the wrist of a man who ran through the

kitchen the day of the memorial service,” Matt

replied, trying to remain pragmatic.

“Oh, come on! We found out how rare that

watch is!”

“It’s rare, but there’s more than one on the

planet. We can’t get ahead of ourselves, here.”

“Okay,” Kiernan pressed, “then what about the

candy? You have to admit that’s pretty wild to be

coincidental.”

“I agree. But we have no concrete evidence in

regards to the candy. Nothing like a wrapper found

at the scene…”

“Only my word,” Kiernan said, sighing.

“Hey, it’s more than we had.” Matt turned on his

headlights. It got dark early during the winter, and

even though it was only three-forty-five in the

afternoon, the lavender shadows of dusk were

spreading across the snow. “The problem is, we

can’t put Abby on the witness stand to testify to

what she smelled. It’s circumstantial at best, but it

is something. It certainly got my attention.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird Mrs. Mitchell never

mentioned her son by name?” Kiernan chewed his

lip as he stared out through the windshield.

“Very.”

“So, how do we find out his name?”

“I need to get to a computer. We should be able

to find any official documents—births, deaths,

marriage

certificates—online.

There’s

a

departmental website where I can log into public

records, but it keeps a history of all IP addresses

that sign on. The library closes at four—” he

glanced at the clock on his dashboard and

grimaced, “—but we don’t have time to get back

there to use their computers. Shit! Why won’t this

traffic move!”

“Relax. We’re getting there, yeah?” Kiernan’s

eyes were brimming with exhilaration, and Matt

felt a quickening of excitement in his own chest.

“Yeah, I think we might be.” His cell phone

buzzed in his jacket pocket. “Hey, Sheila.” He

could hear cutlery clinking, muted conversation,

and the sound of the hospital paging system in the

background. “You at dinner?”

“I’m in the lounge. Matt, have you been back to

your house yet?”

“Not since this morning. Why?”

“Hold on.”

Matt could hear the sound of a door closing and

the noise faded.

“Don’t go home.”

“What? Why?”

“Someone identified you in the video taken out

front of the Reynolds’ house, the one where you’re

carrying Kiernan. The media is already staked out

in front of your house. I just saw them on TV. It

was a tease for the five o’clock news.”

Matt felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.

“What do you mean, they identified me?”

“By name, Matt. And by job classification.

They’re saying they have a quote from Captain

Branson disavowing the department’s involvement

in what you’re doing.”

He exhaled raggedly.

“What is it?” Kiernan asked. “Are you all

right?”

“I guess that’s it, then,” Matt managed. “Branson

said my job would be forfeit if anyone ID’d me in

the clip.”

“Oh, shit,” Kiernan groaned.

“You don’t know it wasn’t Branson himself, the

son of a bitch,” Sheila fumed. “For all you know,

he was so pissed off about Mitchell’s ambush he

set you up.”

“I’ll probably never know. Not that it matters

much in the long run.”

“Don’t you dare just roll over,” Sheila said.

“Don’t you dare, Matthew! You’re making

headway. You can’t just stop now. Karen

Reynolds needs you, the little girl needs you. You

cannot leave her floating around in limbo forever,

you just can’t! I will simply never forgive you if

—”

“Sheila, for Christ’s sakes, put a sock in it for a

minute, will you?” Matt said, irritation breaking

through the shock. “Branson can do whatever the

hell he wants to with this. He wasn’t going to let

me come back, anyway. And I have no intention of

giving up until I find out who killed Abby, all

right? I’m just not thrilled with the idea of finding

myself on the goddamned evening news.” He felt

Kiernan’s hand rest on his leg, and looked over to

find his eyes filled with understanding.

“Oh, well. Good then,” Sheila said, subdued.

“Where are you going to go?”

Matt thumped his fist on the steering wheel. “I

need a computer. Immediately.”

“Go to my house. Kyle is with my mother until

tomorrow, and Bill isn’t off until six. I’m not done

here until eight, but you know where the extra key

is. Just go down the alley and pull in from the

back.”

It was the perfect answer for the short term.

“Thanks, Sheila,” Matt said, his voice softer. “I

owe you.”

“You certainly do. Someday in the not-too-

distant future, I’m going to remind you I’m the

reason you met Kiernan to begin with.”

“Oh, I knew that was coming.”

“Of course you did. And I want a full report on

what’s going on as soon as I’m off work.”

“Done.” He paused. “Thanks, Sheila. Love

you.” He hung up and checked the traffic behind

him before pulling into the left-turn lane and hitting

his blinker.

“So, what’s the plan, Officer?”

“We’re going to my brother’s house. I’m going

to hack into my twelve-year-old nephew’s

computer.”

Kiernan grinned. “Cool.”

* * *

fifties rancher was nearly impassable, even for a

vehicle with four-wheel drive and studded tires. It

didn’t look as if it had been plowed in days.

People who lived in houses with rear-facing

garages had been using it, however, turning the

snow into several inches of uneven, solid-packed

ice. The Bronco slid sideways twice, nearly taking

out a wooden fence and nudging a trash can onto