I’m Watching You

Chapter Nineteen

Wednesday, February 25,

8:30 p.m.

„Thanks.“ Zoe closed her cell phone with a snap. „Let’s go.“

Scott wearily put the minivan in gear. „Where?“

„County. She just went in with Detective Reagan.“ Scott sighed and pulled away from the curb where they’d been parked. „Let me guess. Another one of your sources?“

„Hospital lobby,“ Zoe said with satisfaction, opening her compact. „She got away earlier today, but we’ll catch her this time.“

„Oh joy,“ Scott muttered.

Zoe glared at him. „Just drive, Scott.“

Wednesday, February 25,

8:45 P.M.

Kristen stood outside the window to ICU watching Vincent’s body lying motionless in the hospital bed. She and Abe had set out from her house to grab dinner, but with-out her asking he’d driven straight to the hospital, which was so sweet of him.

„Thank you,“ she murmured.

„For what?“

She could feel the vibrations of his rumbling voice through her back as he held her tightly against him, partly possessive, mostly supportive. She leaned back into him, feeling her hair catch on the stubble of his beard. For the first time in years she’d actually left the house with her hair down, because he’d asked her to and she didn’t know if she could ever tell him no. „For coming up with me. I know you don’t like hospitals.“

„How could you tell?“

„I figured it out when you muttered in the elevator how much you hate hospitals.“

„Sorry. It’s… ingrained.“

„Still, thank you for bringing me to see him. It was thoughtful.“

She could feel him shrug. „I knew you were worried about Vincent.“

„And thanks for getting me in.“ At first they’d refused her entry because she wasn’t family, but Abe had gotten them in by flashing his badge. She sighed heavily, looking at Vincent just lying there. „I never thought of either of them as being old, but I guess they are.“

A nurse walked up. „Visiting hours are long since over, Detective. You’re going to need to go now.“ She raised a brow. „Unless you have any more questions.“

„No, you’ve told us there’s no change. No more questions,“ Kristen said quietly.

„Wait. I have a question. Has anyone been in to see him?“ Abe asked in his cop voice, and Kristen twisted to look at him over her shoulder in surprise.

„Two men, but neither of them were family,“ the nurse answered.

„Two men?“ Kristen frowned at the nurse in confusion. „One would have been Owen Madden, but who was the other?“

„He didn’t leave his name, and he was extremely distraught.“

„Can you describe him?“ Abe asked and the nurse’s eyes softened.

„Twenty-five-year-old Caucasian male with mild Down’s syndrome. Very functional. Said he’d heard about his friend on the news. I really wanted to let him in, but…“

Kristen sagged. „Timothy.“

Abe lifted her chin to look in her eyes. „You know him?“

„He worked for Owen up until a month ago, but quit when his grandmother got sick.“

Abe’s eyes narrowed. „When did he quit? Exactly, Kristen?“

„I don’t know. Mid-January maybe.“ His meaning struck her and she shook her head forcefully. „No way. There is no way Timothy could be involved in anything like what we’re dealing with. No way, Abe.“

„Mid-January, Kristen. Doesn’t that strike you as strange?“

The nurse considered them. „If you’re talking about your vigilante, I’m inclined to agree with Miss Mayhew. From everything I’ve read in the paper, the killer is highly intelligent, calculating. While this Timothy was highly functioning, we’re talking two different planes.“

Abe frowned. „I know. But I hate coincidences. If he comes back, will you call me?“

The nurse took his card. „Of course.“

Wednesday, February 25,

9:05 p.m.

The elevator dinged and there they were. Zoe narrowed her eyes when Reagan put his arm around Mayhew’s shoulders. She’d known there was more going on than Reagan just guarding Mayhew’s house. Now her mind scrambled as to how to make the most of it.

„Here they come,“ Zoe hissed. „Scott, are you ready?“

„Rolling,“ he said tersely and she stepped in front of the couple, gauging their reactions. Mayhew’s eyes flared and Reagan’s teeth clenched. Very, very good.

„Miss Mayhew, can you comment on the condition of Vincent Potremski?“

„No.“ She and Reagan started walking and Zoe sidestepped them.

„How do you respond to recent allegations of impropriety in John Alden’s office?“

Mayhew stopped dead and shot her a look of complete incredulity. She shook her head, sending her curls bounding. „No comment, Miss Richardson. Now if you’ll excuse us.“ They started walking again, but Zoe spied the telltale tremble in Mayhew’s hands that she’d come to look for in times of stress. Mayhew might look poised, but she wasn’t.

„Isn’t it true that your friend was nearly beaten to death because of you? That this is your fault? That he’ll probably be a vegetable for the rest of his life?“ she asked to Mayhew’s back and once again Mayhew stopped dead. But when she turned, there was no incredulity on her face, only rage. Zoe waited, senses tingling. She’d broken Mayhew’s control. Finally.

Mayhew advanced a step and Reagan tugged at her shoulder. „Kristen,“ he said quietly, but clearly enough to be heard. „She’s not worth it.“

For a moment it looked as though Reagan had won and Zoe felt the pang of disappointment. But then Mayhew took another trembling step forward. „First of all, Miss Richardson, the correct term is ‘persistent vegetative state,’ and I’m sure the families of those so afflicted would appreciate your consideration in this regard. Secondly, you wield a great deal of power with that microphone, Miss Richardson, and you, sir, with your camera. I’d hope that you’d use it to help bring justice to innocent victims rather than further fanning the flames.“ She walked away, Reagan’s arm around her again, his hold proprietary and Zoe saw Mayhew lean against him.

And for just a brief moment, Zoe wished for someone to lean on, too. Then the brief moment was annihilated by the fire of fury. Little pompous bitch. „Stop film,“ she snapped. Scott lowered his camera, his gaze still on Mayhew’s retreating back, his expression one of respect, making her even angrier. „Don’t say a damn word,“ she hissed and pushed past him.

She had a piece to prepare.

Wednesday, February 25,

10:30 p.m.

„Who is Leah Broderick? Please.“

He looked down at Hillman with contempt. The man was arrogant and powerful when he sat high above the courtroom. But now, when threatened, Hillman became a quivering mass of nothing. He wished Leah could be here to see him now.

He’d transferred Hillman from his van to his basement with relative ease. Hillman had resisted lying down on the table, though, and a little persuasion in the form of a blow to his head had been necessary. Hillman regained consciousness and spent the next hour fruitlessly pulling at his bonds. Then the begging had begun. It was rewarding to see such arrogance reduced.

He took out his gun and ignoring Hillman’s pleas for mercy, methodically put a bullet in the judge’s left knee. Hillman’s scream was high and shrill, his body writhing. Hillman began to sob and again he wished Leah could be here.

„Just a precaution, Judge Hillman. I can’t have you running away.“ The right knee exploded with the same force as the left and Hillman screamed again. He bent to inspect his work. Blood flowed, so he packed both knees with gauze. „I don’t want you to bleed to death, Judge. Not just yet anyway. I’ll check on you later. For now, I have a special treat.“ He walked over to the stereo and hit the play button. „I’ve taken the liberty of recording the transcript of a certain trial. Listen closely. Then you’ll know what you’ve done.“

Then he went upstairs to lie down on his bed, more exhausted than he should be. He had time for a few hours of sleep, then he had to get back to the hunt.

Wednesday, February 25,

11:40 p.m.

„How’s Kristen?“ Mia asked by way of greeting.

„She’s fine.“ Way better than fine, Abe thought. „She’s waiting at our desks.“

Mia’s eyes went sly. „Hope I didn’t disturb anything. You know, calling so late.“

Abe shook his head, willing his face not to break into a self-satisfied grin and not entirely succeeding. „Not really. I was dozing.“ Next to Kristen, in her bed. His hand cupping her bare breast, her butt tucked snugly against his groin. Life was good.

Mia tucked her tongue in her cheek. „On Kristen’s sofa.“

„Absolutely,“ he lied and saw her swallow her grin. He pointed to the window that looked into the interview room. „Who we got?“

„Craig Dunning. Driver and bodyguard to the Honorable Edmund Hillman.“

„Who is missing.“

Mia nodded. „Yep.“ She pushed the door open and sat down next to the thirty-something man who nervously twisted his chauffeur cap in his hands like a Frisbee. „This is my partner, Mr. Dunning.“

Abe extended his hand. „Detective Reagan.“

Dunning’s hand was damp, but his grip was punishing. „I’ve seen you on TV.“

„The life of celebrity,“ Abe said dryly. „So you last saw Judge Hillman when?“

„About five o’clock.“

„And you were where?“ Abe asked.

Dunning shifted uncomfortably. „In the parking lot of the limo company.“

Mia rolled her eyes. „Come on, Dunning, it’s late. Let’s have the story.“

Dunning glared, but complied. „Every Wednesday I pick up Judge Hillman at court and drive him to the limo yard. We… We switch cars. He takes my car and I sit with the limo until he returns. Tonight he never came back.“

Mia gestured impatiently. „And he goes where?“

Dunning hesitated. „To meet his girlfriend.“

Abe shook his head. „First Alden and now Hillman. Don’t any of those guys sleep with their own wives? Okay, Mr. Dunning, let’s have the details. What time does Judge Hillman normally return? And where does he meet this woman, and what is her name?“

„Her name is Rosemary Quincy, and they meet at a hotel in Rosemont. He’s normally back by six-thirty, seven at the latest.“

Mia ran her tongue over her teeth, clearly biting back what probably would have been a fitting assessment of Hillman’s staying power. „So how long did you wait?“

Again Dunning shifted. „Until nine-thirty. Then I went home. But at ten-thirty Rosemary called. She was leaving the hotel and saw his car – my car, that is – still in the lot. She said he’d left hours before, and she was scared, what with all the killings.“

„Why didn’t she call us herself?“ Mia asked.

Dunning shrugged. „She was hoping to keep her name out of it.“

„That’s not likely,“ Abe said. „What about Mrs. Hillman? Does she know?“

Dunning licked his lips nervously. „About which? The affair or his being missing?“

„Both,“ Mia said.

„I don’t think she knows about Rosemary. Hillman would be broke if she did. And about his being missing, yeah, she knew. She called me herself, about eight. I…“

„You told her that he was somewhere else,“ Mia finished, annoyed.

„Yeah. Look, I came here of my own free will. Can I leave now?“

Abe handed him a notepad and a pencil. „First write down Rosemary’s name and number, your car description, license plate number. Then you can go.“ He gestured to Mia and together they left the room. Shutting the door behind them, Abe looked at Dunning through the window. „Hillman could be fine.“

„Mrs. Hillman could have done him in for having an affair,“ Mia said.

„But you don’t think so.“

„No more than you do.“ Mia scrubbed her cheeks with her palms. „Damn, I’m tired of this. I guess it’s back to Kristen’s list.“

Thursday, February 26,

8:00 A.M.

Their faces were grim, Kristen thought, looking around the table. They had a right to be. They were missing a judge. The press was in an uproar, the legal community even louder.

Spinnelli pressed his thumbs to his temples. „Please tell me you found something around the car.“

„Nothing.“ Even Jack was discouraged. „Not one thing.“

„And nobody saw anything,“ Abe added.

Kristen cleared her throat. „I know you all are tired of my lists, but here’s another one. All the sexual assault cases I prosecuted in front of Hillman. I’ve already talked to a number of the former complainants. Most are still bitter. None reported trauma in the last three months.“

„Any names we’ve seen before?“ Mia asked.

„One. Katie Abrams.“

„The five-year-old who ‘came on’ to her mother’s boyfriend,“ Spinnelli said bitterly.

Familiar anger simmered at the memory of Katie Abrams and the gross miscarriage of justice. „Yes, that’s the case.“ Kristen looked over at Todd Murphy who’d joined them again. „But Murphy checked out Katie’s family after Arthur Monroe was killed. The mother’s in prison for possession and Katie’s been in foster care. I talked with her social worker who said she saw Katie two weeks ago. It’s a good foster family and Katie’s relatively happy.“

„The foster parents?“ Spinnelli asked. „Anything there?“

„Solid alibis, Marc,“ Murphy said quietly.

„Dammit,“ Spinnelli gritted. „What next? Miles?“

„It depends.“ Westphalen held up his hand when Spinnelli looked angry. „It depends on whether he picked Hillman at random or if Hillman’s been his target all along. He hasn’t hit anyone since he missed Carson on Monday night. Maybe he was shaken up. Maybe he’s ready to tell us what his revenge is really all about.“

„If Hillman’s the next random target, we got nothing more than we had yesterday,“ Abe said. „If Hillman’s his revenge, is he done?“

„I have to believe there is a pattern,“ Kristen insisted. „He’s so regimented. Everything’s always done the same way. And the focus is always on the victim.“

„And you,“ Mia commented.

„And me. Somehow I factor into this. But it’s more about the victims. Think about the headstones and the letters. I’m only the P.S. The victims are the focus. Maybe I’m just sensitive because I’ve been talking to these people for the last few days, but I hear the same things over and over again. The victims who’ve been denied justice blame the system. They blame the criminal, the defense attorney, me, the judge. It’s a package.“

„Just like the box he leaves for you,“ Miles said. „Interesting parallel.“

„So where are you going with this, Kristen?“ Jack asked. „What’s the connection? Katie Abrams?“

Kristen shook her head. „I don’t think so. For one, there’s been no recent trigger with Katie Abrams. Second, there was no one who cared enough about Katie to avenge her. That was one of the things that made that case so hard. I think it’s someone else.“

„Maybe we’re all wrong, and we just have a wild card,“ Mia said quietly. „Maybe he reads about you in the paper, Kristen, and decided to give you these gifts because he’s crazy. Like John Hinckley, Jr. and Jodie Foster. Maybe there isn’t a connection other than you.“

„Then we have nothing,“ Kristen said flatly. „Because he’s been too smart to leave us anything mere than a bullet and a partial print and a cup of coffee.“

Spinnelli sighed. „What about the shack yesterday? Any prints, Jack?“

„A few partials from the picture frames, but they were under layers of dust. We took a few from the newspaper. The prints on the newspaper could have been from anywhere, but we’re running them. None match the partial we found on Conti’s body. There was writing on the back of both pictures. One said, ‘Worth: Henry, Callie, Hank and Paul.’ The other said, ‘Hank and Genny, 1943.’ “

Abe noted it. „So Paul was the other son, which makes sense because the records clerk told us the Worth property had passed to Paul Worth when Henry the father died. And we know from the marriage certificate that Genny married some guy named Colin Barnett. We have the parish church where Genny and Barnett married and the year and a picture of Genny. I say we pursue it, because it’s the only lead we have.“

„We have Paul Worth,“ Mia inserted. „He would have had his father’s old bullet molds. We should check him out, too.“

Abe acknowledged the point with a rueful smile. „That would be more obvious than a child that may or may not have been born sixty years ago, wouldn’t it?“

„I’ll follow up on Paul Worth,“ Kristen said. „If he owns that property you found yesterday, there should be records in the tax assessor’s office.“

„Good.“ Spinnelli wrote it all on the whiteboard. „What else?“

„One more.“ From the end of the table Murphy spoke up. „Marc asked me to get the details of the Aaron Jenkins’s sealed record. Jenkins plead down to sexual imposition. He tried to rape a girl under the stairwell in middle school seven years ago. But she’s not on any of your victim lists, Kristen. I checked. Her name is June Erickson.“

Kristen searched her mind. „I’ve never heard the name. Can we talk to her?“

Murphy grimaced. „If we can find her. Her family moved soon after the complaint was filed. I found some neighbors who said the girl had a hard time in school after that. Kids pushed her around because she reported Jenkins. Apparently he was a pretty popular kid back then. I’ve got listings for people with the same names as her parents and I’ll work through them today until I find them. I’ll let you know when I have something.“

„Then we have our direction,“ Spinnelli said. „Abe and Mia, find Genny O’Reilly. Murphy, find the Erickson girl. Kristen, you find Paul Worth, but don’t leave the building without one of us. If anybody makes any deliveries to your house regarding Judge Hillman, the officer sitting in front of your house will let us know.“

„And you?“ Abe asked.

„I’ll hold off the politicians and reporters that want to tell us how to do our jobs.“

Kristen gave him her latest list. „The Hillman cases with defense attorneys and accused. Assuming there is a connection and this is his revenge, one of these guys will be next.“

Thursday, February 26,

9:30 A.M.

Father Ted Delaney of the Sacred Heart Church fancied himself a bit of a detective, having watched Columbo religiously, as it were. So when Abe told him what they were looking for, the old priest plunged into the task with an enthusiasm that made them smile.

„I wasn’t parish priest then, you understand,“ he said, adjusting his glasses on the edge of his nose. „I didn’t arrive until 1965. Father Reed was two generations before me. He was old in 1943. I think he died before the war was over.“

„We figured we wouldn’t find the priest that married them alive,“ Abe said. „Do you remember any Barnetts in this parish? His name was Colin and hers was Genny.“

„I can’t say that I do, but the parish was much bigger then.“ He looked over his half-glasses with mild reproach. „People don’t go to church like they used to.“

Abe fought the urge to stare at his shoes. „Yes, sir,“ he said. „So how about the birth records? The baby would have been born around March 1944.“

Delaney chose a bound volume and slowly flipped the pages, his fingers thick and twisted with age. Finally, he looked up. „A son. Christened Robert Henry Barnett on March 2, 1944.“

One step closer. „Did they have any other children, Father?“ Abe asked.

„If you can wait, I’ll look.“

After what seemed like hours, Delaney’s old fingers came to a stop again. „A daughter, christened Iris Anne, May 12, 1946.“ Again, his fingers crawled from page to page. „Another son christened Colin Patrick, September 30, 1949.“

„Is it possible Genny is still alive?“ Mia asked.

„She’d be close to eighty now,“ Delaney said. „The death records are in another room. If you wait here, I’ll go check.“

When he was gone, Abe turned to Mia. „They didn’t name their firstborn Colin, Junior,“ Abe said, his voice barely a whisper.

Mia lifted a brow. „Seven-month baby. Jig was up. I wonder if Colin Senior knew ahead of time, or if he was surprised by a full-term son two months early.“

„She named her firstborn Robert Henry.“

„Hank is short for Henry.“

Abe nodded. „Either Colin Senior was a most forgiving man, or Genny slid that one in on him. She gave her son his biological father’s name.“

„Let’s hope at least one of the Barnett kids still lives in Chicago.“

„When the good Father comes back, we’ll check it out.“

Thursday, February 26,

10:30 A.M.

Kristen hung up the phone, frustrated with her attempts to reach the final few people on her victim list. Some had moved, some had just disappeared.

Spinnelli approached her, his face grim. „I was waiting until you were off the phone.“

„What’s happened?“

He handed her the list she’d given him that morning. One of the names had been circled in red. „Gerald Simpson didn’t show up for court this morning.“

Kristen pursed her lips. Simpson was a dedicated defense attorney. In his mind, all offenders could be rehabilitated, and prosecutors were vindictive and power-mad, just looking to convict to hasten their promotions. He defended with great zeal, but with little compassion for the victim. „So maintaining our assumption that this is connected to Hillman, we just narrowed the field considerably. I only faced Simpson in Hillman’s courtroom six times. Are we going to put any surveillance on those six defendants?“

„Already ordered. We’ve got a bulletin posted for Simpson’s car. I’m going to go interview his wife since Abe and Mia are still in the field. Maybe Mrs. Simpson will know something.“ But his expression clearly said he expected she would not.

„I’ll call the six victims.“

Spinnelli ran a frustrated hand through his hair. „Anything on Paul Worth, the son?“

„Records is checking. They said they’d call me back when they found anything.“

Thursday, February 26,

2:30 p.m.

No Barnetts still lived in the parish, but Father Delaney had given them a list of his oldest parishioners. Viola Keene had been a member of Sacred Heart parish all her life. Church membership had done nothing to sweeten her disposition. „Sure, I remember the Barnetts. Why do you want to know?“ Viola Keene frowned at their feet. „I just mopped in here. Can you shake the snow off your feet?“

„We’re sorry, ma’am.“ Abe made an honest effort to clean his shoes and Mia did the same. „It’s slushy out there.“

„Maybe we’re gonna have a thaw,“ the old woman said irritably. She really wasn’t that old, Abe thought. She wasn’t even sixty, but she seemed older. It was the way her mouth bent in a perpetual frown. The severe hairstyle and black wardrobe didn’t help.

„One can only hope,“ Mia murmured and Abe bit back his smile.

„Well, what do you want to know?“ Keene snapped. „I got a business to run.“

She owned a small hat shop, but it appeared their privacy was assured. The layer of dust on the hats indicated Keene hadn’t had customers in quite a while. Go figure.

„The Barnett family,“ Abe said. „How did you know them?“

„I went to school with Iris Anne. Foolish girl she was.“

They approached the long counter where Miss Keene was bent over what looked like a big bow. „How so, ma’am?“ Mia asked.

„Always worrying about boys and such. Never one much for her studies. Now her brother, he was a different tale.“

Mia leaned closer to see the woman’s face. „Which brother, Miss Keene?“

Keene looked affronted. „The older one, of course. Robert worked hard at his studies. He helped his father in their store, like a good son should.“ Impossibly, her face softened and she looked ten years younger. „He took good care of Iris and the other one.“ She frowned again. „The youngest…“ She paused, trying to remember. „Colin. He was a spoiled one. Always gettin’ into trouble, pickin’ on kids in the neighborhood.“ She sniffed. „He got his.“

Mia glanced up at him from the corner of her eye, then back to Keene. „How so?“

„Colin picked on the wrong kid.“ Keene picked up the bow and began fussing with the ribbon. „Kid beat him up, put him in the hospital. It was quite the neighborhood event“

„So what happened?“

„Colin died.“

Mia blinked. „Wow. That was some neighborhood event.“

Keene fluffed the bow. „The kid had a knife in his boot. Colin never saw it comin’.“

Abe hid his surprise at the old woman’s casual rendition of the tale. „What happened to Robert?“

Again her face softened, became almost wistful. „It got even worse for him at home after that. Finally, he ran away. Broke Iris Anne’s heart.“

Miss Keene’s, too, he suspected. „What do you mean, it got worse? Was it bad before?“

Keene looked up, angry. „Mr. Barnett was hard on Robert. Iris and Colin could do whatever they liked, but Robert had to work hard. If he didn’t breathe right, his father would take a cane to him. Like I said, he finally ran away. I never saw him again.“

„Miss Keene,“ Mia said softly, „what happened to the kid who killed Colin?“

Keene dropped her eyes back to the bow. „He went to jail. One of those reform schools. But when he got out, he got in a bar fight and ended up stabbed, just like Colin.“ She held the bow up to the light. „Poetic justice, the papers called it. Never caught the guy who did it. Most people figured he’d made some enemies along the way, but me and Iris, we used to wonder if Robert came back.“ She sighed. „Of course it was just girlish wishing. I thought I saw him once, a few years later, but I was wrong.“

„Where was that?“

„At the funeral. His parents and Iris Anne were killed in a car accident.“

„I’m sorry,“ Mia murmured and Keene shrugged.

„It was almost twenty-five years ago.“ Then she surprised them both by smiling at Mia. „But thank you. She was my dearest friend.“

„Why did you think you were wrong about seeing him, Miss Keene?“ Abe asked.

„I called to him, but he didn’t answer. My Robert never would have been so rude.“

„One more question, Miss Keene,“ Mia said, „then we’ll be on our way. Do you have any pictures, maybe a picture of Robert?“

„Oh, mercy. I may have an old annual or two from high school, but I’d have no clue where they’d be.“

Mia gave her a business card. „It’s really important we find a picture. My name and number’s on here. If you find something, can you call us?“

Thursday, February 26,

3:00 p.m.

„Mr. Conti will see you now.“

Zoe fidgeted nervously. Now that she was here, she was wondering how wise an idea this request for an interview had really been, especially since they’d refused to allow Scott to accompany her. He hadn’t even been allowed to drive her here in the station van. She followed the butler, clad in a black pin-striped suit with a crisp white shirt and a black tie. Shades of Al Capone, she thought, glad she’d left word with the station on where she’d gone.

„Miss Richardson,“ the butler announced, gesturing her into Jacob Conti’s private office. Conti himself sat behind his desk, staring at her through narrowed eyes. Drake Edwards stood to one side. She supposed Edwards intended to look casual, but the man exuded such coiled power that anything remotely resembling casual was an impossibility. For a moment she stared at him in fascination, then turned to Jacob Conti.

„Thank you for seeing me. Please accept my condolences on the death of your son.“

Conti said nothing, but Edwards gestured toward the only other chair in the room. „Have a seat, Miss Richardson,“ Edwards said smoothly. „Stay a while.“

His words had a distinctly ominous ring, but Zoe refused to be cowed. She sat, making sure she showed just enough leg. „I wanted to request a formal interview.“

Edwards lifted a brow. „Why would Mr. Conti be interested in an interview?“

„There have been several attempts on the lives of Kristen Mayhew and her inner circle this week,“ Zoe said.

Conti’s face remained impassive, while Edwards’s grew amused. „And this concerns us how?“ Edwards asked and Zoe knew she was being mocked.

„There are allegations that you are involved, Mr. Conti. The police were here to visit you just this morning.“

„The police discussed no such allegations with us, Miss Richardson,“ Edwards said, again mocking her. „Perhaps your newest source is… incorrect.“ His eyes brazenly traveled the length of her body.

Zoe turned back to the silent Conti. „I wanted to give you the opportunity to address the allegations in a public forum,“ she said, as earnestly as she could muster while ignoring Edwards’s blatant leer. Conti said not a single word. His expression had not changed once in the entire time she’d been in the room. If she hadn’t seen his chest rise and fall, she might have believed he was dead. But he was very much alive.

And very much a threat. She stood up. „If you decide you’re interested, please contact me.“ She placed one of her cards on the corner of his desk. „Again, my condolences.“

She’d reached the door when Conti finally spoke. „Miss Richardson, I hold you as accountable for the death of my son as I do Miss Mayhew and his killer.“

Unable to control the sudden tremble of her body, she turned to look at him. „Is that a threat, Mr. Conti?“

„Why would you think a thing like that?“ Conti asked, his mouth curving in a truly horrible smile and she knew the true taste of fear. „Now leave before I have you forcibly removed.“

On shaking legs she obeyed. Edwards followed her to the mansion’s front entrance and opened the door. In his hand he held her card and a second later he’d deftly slid it down the neckline of her dress, between her breasts. „We know many things, Miss Richardson. Including how to reach you should we need to.“

How she managed to start her car she didn’t know. All she knew is she didn’t draw a breath until she’d cleared the front gate. A mile away the nausea passed and fury swept in to take its place. She’d lost the upper hand. She’d just have to get it back.

Jacob didn’t look up from his work when Drake reentered the room. „Kill her.“

Thursday, February 26,

5:00 P.M.

Kristen laughed when a singularly atrocious hat landed on the desk in front of her. She looked up to find Mia wearing a grin. „What is this?“

„It’s a gift for you.“

Abe came up behind Mia, smirking. „She made friends with a hatmaker.“

Mia sat behind her own desk and sighed. „I felt bad for her, all alone in that hat shop.“

„She’s alone because she’s mean.“ Abe pulled up a chair and straddled it. He was almost close enough to touch and the sight of him straddling a chair brought back the memories in a flood. Kristen’s fingers reached, then clenched and resolutely she focused on the ugly hat, but from the corner of her eye she saw him grin, enjoying knowing how much he affected her. „Except to you, Mia. You just charm everyone.“

Mia made a face. „Shut up. You want to tell her or should I?“

Abe gestured broadly. „Be my guest.“

Kristen listened as Mia recounted the conversation with Keene. „So Robert started early,“ she said, „assuming he really did come back to off the guy who’d killed his brother.“

„The junior vigilante squad. Kind of like Boy Scouts, but not,“ Mia said.

Kristen shook her head with a rueful smile. „Mia So what do you two think? Could Robert Barnett be our guy? That name’s not on any of my lists but…“

Abe nodded. „I say he could be, but we hit a brick wall. Couldn’t track Robert Barnett any farther than Keene. How did you do today?“

„I called everyone who was involved in a case Simpson defended and Hillman presided over. No obvious traumas, two invitations to celebration dinners, one nomination of the vigilante for the Nobel peace prize, and three I couldn’t reach. I’ll try them again tomorrow. Oh, and I found Paul Worth. I guess he’d be Robert Barnett’s uncle through Hank.“

Abe raised a brow. „And?“

„He’s alive, but we can’t talk to him. He’s in a nursing home up by Lincoln Park. Not lucid. I did talk to his accountant, who’s the executor of the estate. Paul Worth has no children and on his death that piece of land you found yesterday goes back to the state.“

„I wonder how our guy found out about the property,“ Abe mused.

„I don’t know. Maybe he knew the Worths.“ She handed him the sheet of paper on which she’d taken notes. „I asked the nursing home if you could see him. They said you were welcome to try. I wasn’t going up there by myself and Spinnelli’s gone.“

Abe looked over at Spinnelli’s empty office. „Where is he?“

Kristen sighed. „Mayor’s office.“

Mia winced. „Ooh.“

„Yeah. He’s got a press conference scheduled for seven. It’s not going to be pretty.“

They were quiet for a moment, then Abe’s cell phone trilled. Kristen’s heart skipped a beat. She’d been on edge all day, worrying about the Reagans, about Owen, about her mother, but everyone was accounted for. She’d warned Lois and Greg and knew she’d done her best to protect the people she cared about.

„Reagan.“ His face hardened and Kristen grabbed his arm.

„Rachel?“

He shook his head, covered her hand with his and gave a brief squeeze. „No, they’re all fine. This is something else.“ He stood up and walked a few feet away. „This isn’t a good time,“ he muttered, then, „No, I’m not free for dinner… Or drinks. Dammit, Jim, just say what’s on your mind and be done with it.“

Jim. Debra’s father. Poor Abe.

„I’ll try.“ Abe snapped his phone shut and stood there for a moment, all alone, and her heart cracked. Not caring who saw, she got up and smoothed her hand over his broad back. His muscles tensed under her palm and he turned to look at her, saw she understood. „They’re in town for the christening. They want to meet me for dinner.“

„Why?“

He moved his powerful shoulders restlessly. „I don’t know. To talk, they said.“

„Do you want me to go with you?“

One corner of his mouth turned up. „Thanks, but I don’t think so. Don’t be mad.“

„I’m not.“ She leaned her forehead against his upper arm. „Just worried about you.“

From behind them Mia cleared her throat meaningfully. „Hi, Marc.“

As one, Kristen and Abe turned to meet Spinnelli’s beleaguered stare. For a long awkward moment nobody said anything, then Spinnelli sighed. „At least there’ll be one happy ending out of all this.“

Kristen dropped her hand from Abe’s back. „Mayor’s not happy, huh?“

Spinnelli sank into a chair. „Well, let’s see. We’re incompetent, laughingstocks, the butt of jokes, an embarrassment. There was more, but those were the high points. Mia, call Murphy. Find out if he’s gotten any closer to finding that girl.“ He snapped his fingers, his brow puckered. „Whatever her name was.“

„June Erickson,“ Mia supplied. „Sure.“

His gaze landed on the hat. „And what the hell is that?“

„Community outreach,“ Abe said. „I’ll fill you in.“

Thursday, February 26,

8:45 p.m.

„This is making me sick,“ Kristen said, feeling the room spin.

„This rocks,“ Rachel corrected. She was sitting in front of the Reagans’s TV, careening down a mountain on a video snowboarding game that was entirely too real.

„Welcome to my world,“ Kyle said wryly. Becca chuckled.

Kristen covered her eyes. „I can’t watch anymore. I’m going to throw up.“

„Oh, man! Sixth place.“ Rachel shut off the video game. „My game is off tonight.“

„It’s a wonder you can still move your hands and your eyes aren’t burned-out sockets,“ Kyle retorted. „You’ve been playing that fool game all day.“

Because she’d stayed home from school. Just a precaution, Kyle said, and not her fault, Becca said, but Kristen felt responsible all the same. Rachel, on the other hand, was thrilled to have missed a test and to have the whispered admiration of her friends.

„Don’t apologize,“ Kyle warned.

„Or you’ll kick my ass,“ Kristen said with a weary smile. „I know. Has Abe called?“

„Not in the last five minutes since you asked before.“ Becca patted her hand. „He’s fine, Kristen. He can take care of himself.“ It was said mechanically, in the voice of the wife and mother of cops. Kristen wondered if Becca had ever once believed it.

„Besides, it’s just dinner,“ Kyle said. „The worst that can happen is he accidentally uses the wrong fork and Sharon cuts him up with that sharp tongue of hers.“

Kristen looked up at him, curious. „Why do you say that?“

Kyle looked uneasy, but Becca huffed. „Debra was the sweetest, most generous woman in the world, but her parents were fond of money and the power that came with it.“ A look of pain crossed her face. „Abe wasn’t good enough for Debra and her father never let an opportunity go by without telling him so.“

„Becca,“ Kyle chided gently. „That’s all past now. They can’t hurt him anymore.“

Kristen looked from one to the other, but neither appeared to be prepared to impart additional detail. „Abe told me about the lawsuit. How they tried to get custody of Debra.“

Kyle’s eyes widened speculatively. „Did he now?“ Becca’s jaw clenched. „Did he tell you that they never stopped blaming him for Debra getting shot? For five years Debra lay there and they never stopped blaming him.“

Poor Abe. Poor Kyle and Becca, having to watch their son endure such torment. „He didn’t want to meet them tonight.“

Becca huffed again. „Of course he didn’t.“

„Then why did he?“ Rachel asked from the floor and Kristen blinked. She’d almost forgotten the teenager was down there, listening to every word.

Kyle sighed. „I imagine he went to let them have their say and get it over with.“

„So they wouldn’t say it on Saturday and ruin the christening for Sean and Ruth,“ Kristen said. It added yet another layer of respect to the character of Abe Reagan. Becca’s eyes misted. „You really do understand him.“ Kristen felt what was becoming a familiar wave of longing. For Abe, for his family. For the warmth of this house. „He’s a good man,“ she said simply.

Kyle cleared his throat roughly and reached for the wallet he’d set on the lamp table.

„Kyle,“ Becca murmured. „Don’t.“ Kristen’s mouth tipped. „Is he going to pay me?“

„No, he’s going to show you Debra’s picture,“ Rachel said and Kristen stiffened, but it was too late. Kyle held the worn snapshot and if she didn’t look, she’d be rude.

So she made herself look down at the picture, at the woman who’d been Abe’s everything. What she saw was a tall woman of average beauty and the protruding stomach of advanced pregnancy holding on to, to a man who smiled as if he could never be happier. „She was lovely.“ It was true. Because beyond her average beauty was a glow, an expression that said Debra could never be happier either.

„This was taken two weeks before she was shot,“ Kyle said, a catch in his voice that made Kristen swallow hard. „I didn’t think I’d ever see that look on my son’s face again.“ His thumb swept over the plastic cover in a practiced caress. „But I have. Since he met you.“ His thumb grew blurry and Kristen bit the inside of her cheek, not daring to look up.

Rachel pushed a tissue in her hand, much as Aidan had done the day before. „Blow your nose before we all start bawling,“ she said and Kristen laughed unsteadily.

„Are you sure you’re only thirteen?“

„Almost fourteen,“ Rachel returned archly.

Kyle groaned, the tender moment broken. „Going on twenty,“ he said.

„So can I go steady with Trent?“

Kyle scowled down at her. „No. Not till you’re sixteen.“

Rachel shrugged. „It was worth a try.“

Grateful for the temporary respite from her worry, Kristen checked her watch and Kyle groaned again. „If you’re so worried about Abe, call him on his cell phone.“

„I don’t want him to think I’m checking up on him.“

Kyle huffed in disgust. „Women.“

„We’re all alike,“ Rachel sang and once again Kristen smiled.

„And you, having been a woman for so long, are an expert,“ Kristen said wryly.

„Hey, lady, I see what I see and I know what I know.“ Rachel grabbed the phone and handed it to her. „Call him. You know you want to.“

Embarrassed, Kristen took the phone and dialed. And frowned. „He’s turned it off.“

Kyle’s brows shot together. „He what?“

„He’s turned off his cell phone. Or he’s underground, because it’s not picking up.“

Kyle put out his hand, worry in his eyes. „Give me the phone.“