The Littlest Witness

Rick had made her life a living hell, and both Mona and Kate had been wonderful friends through it all. But they were human. They’d have to wonder, at times, if Rick’s shooting had been self-defense or premeditated. Hadn’t they heard her say, more than once, how much she wanted him dead?

Shivering, Thea poured herself a cup of coffee, then clicked on the TV, leaving the volume on mute as she surfed through the cable stations, trying to find a local news broadcast. She’d seen no sign of reporters on the scene last night, thank goodness, but she could never be too careful. The last thing she needed was to have her face splashed across newspapers. What if the Mancusos saw her picture?

For a while last night, she’d worried that Detective Gallagher might have recognized her from a wanted poster or police blotter or even a newspaper. Rick’s murder, along with the disappearance of his ex-wife and daughter, was bound to have made front page in Baltimore. She couldn’t be certain the story hadn’t been picked up by one of the wire services and carried nationally, as well, even though she’d seen no mention of it in the past four months.

When she and Nikki had first arrived in Chicago, she’d scoured the papers and listened to news broadcasts daily, but the Windy City had its own headlines, its own problems with domestic violence.

And by the time Thea had had the nerve to venture out of their motel room and look for a newsstand carrying the Baltimore Sun, the whole grisly affair had been knocked from the pages by a bribery scandal involving high-ranking city officials. There’d been no mention of Rick’s murder, no mention of the police corruption Thea had suspected for months.

She’d been left to imagine what the headlines must have been: VINDICTIVE EX-WIFE MURDERS DECORATED POLICE OFFICER. COP KILLER FLEES BALTIMORE WITH FOUR-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER. STATEWIDE MANHUNT FOR COLD-BLOODED MURDERER.

Thea sometimes still had a hard time believing how much her life had changed. She’d been a business major in college and had gone to work at her father’s private-investigation firm right after graduation. She hadn’t been interested in field work, but she had been interested in numbers. She’d run the office efficiently, cutting costs and increasing profits with her innovative ideas. Now she worked as a waitress in a diner. She’d once been a respected member of the chamber of commerce. Now she was a wanted criminal.

Deep in thought, she started violently when the doorbell sounded. Her heart skidded against her chest as her head swiveled toward the door. Who in the world would be coming to see her at this hour on a Sunday morning?

Telling herself it was probably Mrs. Lewellyn wanting to chat for a few minutes, Thea hurried to the door. But when she glanced through the peephole, she gasped in dismay.

Detective Gallagher stood in the hallway, his blue eyes so piercing she could have sworn he had the ability to look directly through the door, straight at her.

Frantically she glanced around. Was there anything incriminating in the apartment? Should she hide? Pretend she wasn’t home? Grab Nikki and make a run for it?

Smoothing her hands down the sides of her chenille robe, Thea tried to get her nerves under control. There was no reason to panic. Detective Gallagher was conducting a police investigation that she had inadvertently become a part of. All she had to do was convince him that she had seen nothing last night. She had no connection to the dead woman.

But suddenly the woman’s picture flashed on the TV screen, and for a moment, the smiling attractive face triggered something in Thea. Not recognition exactly, but a feeling that at sometime, somewhere, she and the dead woman’s paths had crossed.

The doorbell sounded again, and casting a glance toward Nikki’s bedroom, Thea patted down her tangled dark hair and pulled open the door.

Detective John Gallagher was even taller than she remembered, and more formal looking than she would have expected for a Sunday morning, unless of course, he was on his way to church. But somehow Thea doubted that. He had the appearance of a man who lived and breathed his investigations. Police work would be his religion. She knew the type all too well.

He was dressed in a dark gray suit, a starched white shirt and a silk tie that were obviously expensive—and made Thea immediately suspicious. She knew what cops made, what they had to do to afford clothing like his. A shudder of warning rippled through her.

“Good morning.” His tone was cordial, but he didn’t smile. His expression remained impersonal, his eyes very blue and very cold.

In spite of his grim demeanor, he was a strikingly handsome man, Thea realized. The kind of man who almost always spelled trouble.

He gazed past her shoulder into the apartment. “May I come in? I have a few questions I need to ask you.”

Dear God, what kind of questions? What in the world was he doing here? Thea frowned. “But I told you last night—I didn’t see anything. I wasn’t even home.”

One dark brow lifted slightly. “But your little girl was, right?”

His words were like a dagger through Thea’s chest. Her heart seemed to stop for a long painful moment, and she could almost feel the color draining from her face. “How did you—”

“May I come in? This won’t take long.”

He didn’t wait for her acquiescence this time, but strode by her into the apartment, turning to face her when she remained motionless at the open doorway. Left with no option, Thea closed the door and followed him.

“Sorry to interrupt your coffee.” He nodded toward the steaming mug on the cocktail table. “Smells good.”

Thea merely looked at him. She had no intention of offering him coffee or anything else. This wasn’t a social call, and the sooner she got rid of him, the better.

How in God’s name had he known about Nikki? The Mancusos had far-reaching contacts, but still…

Thea laced her fingers together, trying to stop the trembling. She couldn’t let him see how nervous she was. Couldn’t give herself away. For Nikki’s sake, she had to perform as she had never performed before.

“How did you know about my daughter?” She got to finish the question this time, amazed that her tone came out just right—part curiosity, part irritation at having her peaceful morning interrupted.

“We obtained a list of all the tenants in the building with children. Little girls, to be exact.”

“But why?” For the first time, Thea noticed the brown paper bag he carried in one hand. Fear crept up her backbone. She lifted her gaze to meet his. “Detective Gallagher, what’s this about?”

In answer, he turned toward the television. “I see you’ve been watching the news this morning. You probably already know that the woman who died here last night was Gail Waters. She was a reporter for a small newspaper called the Press.”

“A reporter?” What had a reporter been doing in this building? Who had she come to see? Had she somehow found out about her and Nikki?

“The paper is local, but some of her investigative pieces also ran on a cable news channel.”

Gail Waters had been on television? Was that why she’d looked familiar? Thea desperately wanted to believe that was the case. There was no reason to assume a reporter’s presence in this building had anything to do with her and Nikki. And yet…

Detective Gallagher was here in her apartment, asking questions about her daughter. Obviously he thought there was a connection.

Thea lifted her chin. “As I told you last night, I don’t recall having seen her before. I don’t understand why you’re here, Detective Gallagher.”

His gaze, intent and probing, fell on her once more. “As you can imagine, there’re still a lot of unanswered questions concerning her death.”

“But I thought her death was a suicide. The officer I spoke with last night said a note had been found on the body.”

“And as I said last night, suicide’s a possibility, but we’re not ruling out homicide. Not yet, at least.”

“Homicide? You think someone murdered her?” Thea felt momentarily faint. “Who would want to kill her?” she asked weakly.

He gave her a curious look. “Reporters are a lot like cops. People sometimes don’t like the questions we ask.”

Thea didn’t say anything to that, but she remembered the list of people Rick had claimed wanted him dead. And yet the last person he’d suspected was the one who finally did him in. Thea’s stomach churned in warning. “Whether it was suicide or murder, I don’t see what her death has to do with my daughter or me.”

“I’m coming to that.” He took something from the bag and held it up for her inspection. “Do you recognize this?”

Thea’s knees almost buckled when she saw the doll. The black curls, the brown eyes, the dimpled cheeks were very much like her daughter’s, which was exactly why she’d bought the doll for Nikki. It had been an extravagance they could ill afford these days, but her daughter had been so enchanted with the resemblance when they’d seen her in a shop window. Thea hadn’t been able to resist. Until then, Nikki had been largely unresponsive to just about everything. The doll, named Piper after a character in Nikki’s favorite book, had struck a chord deep inside the child that no one, including Thea, had been able to touch since that terrible night four months ago.

Nikki loved that doll. She would never have willingly parted with it. So how had Detective Gallagher come to be in possession of it? And what did the doll have to do with Gail Waters’s death?

Chilled, Thea stared at the doll in Gallagher’s hand, forcing her expression to remain placid. It was imperative that he not connect the doll to Nikki. It was crucial that the two of them remain untouched by his investigation. “You came here at this hour of the morning to ask me about a doll?” She let a trace of irritation creep into her voice.

“Do you recognize it?”

Almost absently Thea rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Detective Gallagher watched her intently, studying her as if she were a bug under his microscope. But Thea had learned a lot about bluffing from her father and from the other investigators who had worked for him. “That doll could belong to any little girl in this building. I can’t imagine why you think it’s my daughter’s.”

His eyes narrowed on her. He didn’t appear fooled by her evasions. “I found this doll on the roof last night after a woman had fallen to her death. Does it, or does it not, belong to your daughter?”