The Littlest Witness

On the roof! My God…

A fresh wave of fear washed over Thea, but she shook her head, denying her thoughts. This was crazy. Nikki would never have gone up to the roof. She wasn’t even allowed out of the apartment without Thea’s permission, and besides that, her daughter was terrified of the dark. There was no way on earth she would have gone up to that roof alone last night, and Thea couldn’t imagine that Mrs. Lewellyn would have taken her.

So how had the doll gotten up there?

“You look surprised, Mrs. Lockhart. Why is that, if the doll doesn’t belong to your daughter?”

Cornered, Thea chewed her lip. “The doll is a common one. I’ve seen it in several stores. Nikki does have one similar to it, but that doesn’t mean this one is hers. It couldn’t be, because there is no way she would have been on that roof. She’s only four years old.”

“The stairs go all the way to the roof,” Detective Gallagher pointed out. “Even a four-year-old can climb stairs, and you said yourself, you were out all evening. How can you be sure your daughter wasn’t on that roof?”

“Because her baby-sitter would never have allowed it.” But a vision of Mrs. Lewellyn snoring peacefully on the sofa flashed through Thea’s mind. Was it possible Nikki had left the apartment while the elderly woman slept? But why would Nikki do something like that? It was totally out of character for her. There was no good reason Thea could think of that would have compelled her daughter out of the apartment and up to the roof.

Either the doll wasn’t hers or she’d lost it somewhere, in the hallway perhaps between here and Mrs. Lewellyn’s apartment, and someone had picked it up. Someone else had taken it to the roof. That was the only possible explanation.

If only she hadn’t had to work late last night. Then she would have been home with Nikki herself, and Detective Gallagher wouldn’t be here asking all these questions, and she wouldn’t be assailed by all these doubts. This awful premonition that somehow she and Nikki both were tied to the dead woman.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you,” she insisted.

Detective Gallagher stared at her for a moment longer, then shrugged. “Sorry I wasted your time.” He started for the door, but before Thea could breathe a sigh of relief, he turned back to face her. “Maybe we should ask your daughter about last night. Just to be on the safe side.”

“She’s sleeping, and I really don’t want to wake her. She…hasn’t been feeling well lately.”

“I see.” His eyes were dark and fathomless as his gaze rested on Thea. He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but a sound from behind her drew his attention, and Thea knew without turning that her daughter was standing in the doorway. She also knew that once Nikki saw the doll in Detective Gallagher’s hand the pretense would be over.

But Piper had disappeared behind the detective’s back, out of Nikki’s sight. Thea thought for a moment he was actually going to leave without questioning her daughter, but then in the next instant, she told herself she should have known better. He was a cop, wasn’t he? No one was sacred. Not even a wounded four-year-old girl.

“You must be Nikki.” His tone lowered, became almost gentle. He walked past Thea before she could protest and knelt in front of her daughter. “Your mother and I were just talking about you. I’m Detective Gallagher.”

Nikki was still dressed in her pajamas, looking soft and sweetly rumpled, her cloud of dark hair hanging in tangles down her back. She stared at Detective Gallagher, her brown eyes wide with fright.

Thea moved quickly to Nikki’s side and knelt beside her, smoothing back her hair. “It’s okay, sweetie. He’s not going to hurt you.”

She gave Gallagher a warning glance, and he smiled reassuringly at Nikki. A rather devastating smile, Thea thought fleetingly.

“Why don’t you call me John? That’s what my friends call me. Some of them even call me Johnny.”

How ludicrous. The man looked nothing like a Johnny.

Nikki’s gaze silently probed his features, searching for signs of violence. Rick had taught their daughter well, too. Thea’s heart twisted, watching her.

Still kneeling in front of Nikki, John said, “I wonder if you could help me out, Nikki. I found a pretty little doll on the roof last night. Come to think of it, she looks a lot like you. I rescued her before she got rained on, and now I’m trying to find out who she belongs to.” He brought the doll around and laid her across his knee.

Nikki made a guttural sound deep in her throat and snatched Piper from his knee, clutching her tightly to her chest as she backed into the tiny hallway.

“I take it she belongs to you,” John said softly. He glanced at Thea, his gaze cold and accusing. “What was your doll doing on the roof, Nikki? Did you leave her there?”

Nikki looked near tears. Her eyes were like two huge O’s. She continued to back away from Detective Gallagher, until she was trapped against the wall. Then she slid down to sit on the floor, curling into a soft protective ball around Piper.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” John said, making no move toward the little girl. “I just need to ask you a few questions.”

Shaken by her daughter’s reaction, Thea pushed past the detective and gathered Nikki into her arms. Nikki whimpered, burying her face in Thea’s shoulder as she clutched Piper tightly. “She can’t answer your questions, Detective,” Thea said coldly. “Why don’t you just go away and leave us alone?”

He rose slowly. “I didn’t come here to frighten your little girl. I’m sorry she’s scared. But this is a police investigation. A woman is dead, and it’s my job to find out what happened to her. If your daughter knows something—”

“She doesn’t know anything. Please, she can’t help you.” Thea’s arms tightened protectively around Nikki as she gazed up at Detective Gallagher, trying to appeal to the softness she’d glimpsed in him earlier, fervently hoping the compassion had been genuine. “I don’t know how her doll got on that roof, but I do know Nikki wasn’t up there last night. She couldn’t have been. She didn’t see anything.”

“Why won’t you let her tell me that?”

Thea drew a long trembling breath and said, almost in a whisper, “Because she can’t. She can’t tell you anything. My daughter can’t speak, Detective.”

JOHN STOOD at the window in Thea Lockhart’s living room while he waited for her to come out of her daughter’s bedroom. She’d reluctantly told him to help himself to the coffee, and he’d complied, the aroma too tempting to pass up this early in the morning. The rich steamy brew was a far cry from the lukewarm sludge at the station, and he savored the taste as he stared out the window.

The building across the street blocked the view of the lake, forcing his gaze downward. The yellow crime-scene tape had torn loose in the wind, and sometime during the night the rain had changed to snow; now a light layer of it hid the bloodstains. Passersby on the street barely gave the spot a second glance. They didn’t know or didn’t care that a woman had died there last night, had sucked in her last breath while plunging five stories to the ground. Had the name of her killer been on her lips when she died?

Scowling, John turned away from the window. He couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that Thea Lockhart and her daughter knew more about Gail Waters’s death than they were telling. Why else was Mrs. Lockhart so nervous around him?

Mrs. Lockhart. John glanced around the apartment, taking in the shabby furniture, the basket of laundry shoved in one corner, the coloring book and crayons scattered over the dining-room table. Gold hoop earrings had been dropped into a glass bowl on the cocktail table, and a pair of white walking shoes rested near the front door.

There wasn’t a trace of masculinity anywhere, including the laundry. A pink uniform lay folded on top of the basket, while the leg of a child’s pajama bottom hung over one side and a lacy white bra spilled over the other.

He stared at the bra for a moment as something familiar, and unwanted, stirred in him. Meredith had been gone for some time. He was over her, and he’d long since come to terms with his failed marriage. But a woman’s underthings were a reminder of the intimacy and closeness he’d once had, and he couldn’t deny a certain hollowness in his life now. A loneliness he didn’t often admit to.

He glanced up and caught Thea Lockhart watching him from the hallway. She knew what he’d been staring at, and a faint blush tinged her cheeks. She lifted her chin as she came into the room.

She’d changed from the chenille robe into a pair of worn jeans and navy blue sweater. Her short dark hair was combed behind her ears, but a riot of curls spilled across her forehead. She shoved it back impatiently.

“How’s your daughter?” John asked, his gaze inadvertently traveling over her. She was very thin, her skin smooth and soft-looking, but she had a toughness about her, a wariness in her dark eyes that made him think she was no innocent. She’d been around. Somehow he liked that about her.

“She’s playing with her doll for now, but she’ll want breakfast in a few minutes.”

John took the hint. He’d need to leave before then. “Why did you lie to me about the doll, Mrs. Lockhart?”

She looked surprised for a moment, as if his question had been unexpected. Then she shrugged. “I didn’t lie. I wasn’t sure it was Nikki’s. And I still can’t imagine how it got on the roof last night.”

He lifted a brow as he watched her move to the tiny kitchen and pour herself another cup of coffee. She held up the pot. “Can I freshen yours?”

He shook his head. “No, thanks, I’m fine. This is good, by the way.” He toasted her with his mug, and she inclined her head slightly. She didn’t move back into the living room, but remained in the kitchen with the bar between them.

John left his post by the window and crossed to her. She looked vaguely startled again as he looked down at her, and she averted her gaze as she sipped her coffee.

“You still don’t think your daughter left the doll on the roof?”

She frowned. “Of course I don’t. You saw how shy she is, how…easily frightened. There’s no way she would have gone up to that roof alone, and I know Mrs. Lewellyn would never have taken her up there.”

“Maybe that’s something we need to ask Mrs. Lewellyn.”

“I intend to,” Thea snapped. Then, as if having second thoughts about her angry tone, she set down her coffee and gazed at him in earnest. “Look, even if Nikki was up there—which I know she wasn’t—what is it you think she can do for you? She can’t tell you anything, Detective.”