Eyewitness

Chapter Thirteen

Devon squirmed in Kieran’s arms. She knew that sound and it pierced a hole in her heart.

Kieran had tightened his hold on her in an instinctive response to the scream, but she didn’t need his protection now. Michael did.

“It’s Michael.” She forced the words from her constricted lungs.

Kieran released her and grabbed his shorts while she stuffed her arms into her blouse and clawed at the floor for her panties.

She banged her shin on the coffee table as she barreled toward Michael’s room. She shoved at the door, which she had left ajar and flicked on the light. Michael always recovered better from one of his nightmares with the lights on.

She stumbled to a stop and pressed her fist against her mouth.

Michael was sitting up in his bed, his rigid back lined up against the headboard, his wide eyes staring, unseeing.

Kieran nudged her. “Wake him up. He’s still sleeping.”

She tiptoed to the bed and sank onto the mattress. Brushing a dark lock of hair from his pale face, she whispered, “Michael, it’s okay. Wake up now.”

Kieran hovered behind her, his breath harsh. “Wake him up, Devon.”

Michael’s jaw tensed and his eyes flicked from side to side. She’d never seen him like this before. Once he screamed, he woke up from his nightmare. Now he seemed trapped in another world experiencing private horrors.

Kieran reached around her and grabbed Michael’s shoulders. He gave him a shake and shouted. “Wake up, Michael. Wake up.” He ripped the covers from Michael’s clenched fists, and shouted again.

Michael blinked. His body bucked. His mouth began working and mewing sounds escaped from his lips.

Devon lurched forward and folded her arms around him. Stroking his hair, she murmured in his ear.

He mumbled something into her shoulder.

“It’s okay now, Michael. You’re safe.”

He twisted his head to the side. “I’m not going home, I’m not going home, I’m not going home.”

Devon glanced at Kieran and shook her head. “That’s fine. You don’t have to go home. Do you want another story?”

Devon read him another story with more sound effects from Kieran. Every few pages, Michael would interrupt the story and ask if he was going home tomorrow. And every time, Devon assured him he was not.

When he drifted off to sleep, she and Kieran slipped out of the room. With tears blurring her vision, Devon went to her bedroom and flung herself across the bed.

“I thought he was getting better. That’s the worst I’ve seen him.”

“Have you tried asking him about his nightmares?”

She nodded. “I’ve tried, but he claims he doesn’t remember them.”

Kieran sat next to her and rubbed her back. “It was just a nightmare and he couldn’t wake up. He’ll be fine.”

“You don’t think that will cause a setback or anything, do you?”

“Nah. He’s just not ready to go home.”

She swiped a tear from her cheek. Even if Kieran was here to help carry the burden, she still had to remain strong for Michael.

“D-do you think you can stay here with him while I go up north to meet with Detective Marquette?”

“No way. I’m not letting you go to the city by yourself. Can you leave Michael here while we go up? You must still have some friends in Coral Cove.”

“I do, but none of them really knows Michael. I’m afraid he wouldn’t stay with a stranger.”

“How about Dr. Estrada? She’s not a stranger. He likes her, trusts her.”

“I don’t know if he’ll stay with anyone but me right now…except maybe you.”

“We’ll drive up and back, no staying overnight. Besides, you make dangerous company right now.”

She covered her eyes with her forearm. Was being with her putting Michael in danger? He’d been with her in the bathroom and in the alley. The thug who killed Mrs. Del Vecchio obviously didn’t have a problem with collateral damage.

“I suppose we can try it, but if he freaks out again Detective Marquette will just have to show me those pictures another day.”

“The sooner you look at that six-pack, the better. Who knows? You might be able to ID someone who’s been hanging around Coral Cove, and then Marquette can end this thing.”

She rolled to her side and propped her head up with her hand, her elbow digging into the bed. I’m glad you’re here, Kieran. I don’t know how I would’ve faced this chaos without you.”

He dabbed at a tear still hanging on the end of her lashes. “The way you’ve always faced it-with courage and fearlessness and gumption.”

“Did you just say ‘gumption’?” She raised an eyebrow. “How do you know about my gumption? You haven’t been around to see it.”

“I see it now. I see it in our son.”

With her free hand, she reached forward and slid her finger beneath the string that held his eye patch to his head. She slipped the patch from his face and tossed it to the floor. His eye twitched, but his body remained still. She smoothed her fingers across the puckered skin surrounding his eye.

Then she cupped his jaw, the bristles of his beard tickling her palm. She’d wanted him before Michael’s nightmare, and she wanted him even more now. Maybe Michael’s scream had doused the fire and passion they’d shared on the couch, but now she needed something else from him. Could he give it to her? He was convinced he couldn’t. She’d seen it in his face, in the way he pulled away from her.

He turned his head to kiss the center of her palm. Stretching out on the bed next to her, he pulled her close and she felt his heartbeat reverberate in his chest as she laid her cheek against his flesh, crisscrossed with scars from another place and time.

The blouse she’d pulled on in haste hiked up to her hips, and Kieran slid his hands beneath her panties and peeled them from her body.

While he removed his shorts, she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse and pulled it over her head. Lying naked beside Kieran, Devon closed her eyes awaiting another assault from his hands, mouth, tongue.

His calloused fingers traced a line from under her arm to the bottom of her hip. His soft lips planted a kiss on her collarbone, his tongue testing her flesh.

He transferred his kiss to her lips, and the warmth of his mouth against hers melted her bones. He continued his slow exploration of her body with his strong hands, hands that had inflicted injury, pain and death.

Now they expressed only love.

He nudged her onto her back and pressed his body, full-length, against hers. His warm flesh electrified her skin and she gasped in the sheer pleasure of the sensation.

“Did I hurt you?” He pushed up onto his forearms, and she immediately felt the loss of him.

Stroking his back and buttocks, she whispered, “Absolutely not. Never. Come back to me.”

He lowered himself again, sealing himself to her so there was no distinction between where the lines of his body left off and hers began. He kissed her mouth and then nibbled her earlobe. “I love you. I never stopped loving you.”

A sob escaped her lips, and she trailed a finger around his eye. “I want you, Kieran. I need you to make me feel whole again.”

He slipped one leg between hers and then eased inside her. His body shuddered once and then the tenderness ended. He drove into her core over and over while she moaned and sighed and asked for more.

His muscles were hard and tense beneath her kneading hands as he restrained himself, held back. Then she exploded and shattered into a million pieces, giving him his cue.

With a guttural cry, he let go. And in the midst of his own pleasure he sought her mouth again, his kisses hard and hot. And then she knew.

Kieran Roarke had finally come home to her.

DEVON DROPPED A KISS on top of her son’s silky hair, so much like his father’s.

“Tell Kier…your dad to hurry up.” When Michael disappeared down the hallway, she turned to Elena. “I really appreciate this, Elena.”

“Absolutely my pleasure. Michael and I can use the time to get better acquainted outside of the office.”

“I hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience.”

“Not at all. Like I told you on the phone this morning, I had only two patients today and one of them always cancels on me.”

“Thank you. We won’t be gone long. Should be back for dinner.”

“If it’s okay with you, we’ll go on a picnic at the beach. We won’t go to a swimming beach, so Michael won’t be in the water.”

“That’s fine. Just call or text me if there’s a problem.”

Kieran emerged from brushing his teeth in the bathroom, carrying Michael on his shoulders. “All the details settled?”

Devon smiled. Michael looked so comfortable up there, and after the night she and Kieran had spent in her bed maybe Kieran would realize they belonged together as a family. “I’m ready to go. Elena has a fun day planned with Michael. Is Sam joining you today?”

A pink tint touched Elena’s cheeks. “No. He had to go out of town today.”

Reaching up to tickle Michael’s cheek, Devon said, “Have fun today. We’ll be back for dinner.”

“Don’t go home, Mommy.”

Devon’s smile froze on her lips. Her son shouldn’t have to worry like this. “I’m not going home, sweet pea. Just going to see a policeman, like Uncle Dylan.”

“I’ll keep Mommy safe.” Kieran hoisted Michael off his shoulders and placed him on his feet.

After several hugs and kisses, Devon pulled the car out of the driveway and hit the coast highway. Chewing her lip, Devon glanced into the rearview mirror. “Do you think Michael will be okay?”

“Elena will keep him safe. The guy’s after you, not Michael.”

“Yeah, I wonder if he knows I’m on my way back to the city to talk to the detective on the case. I wonder if he’s following us right now.”

“He can follow us right to the police station.”

Three hours later, Devon steered the car across the cable car tracks on Powell and headed into the underground parking structure at the SFPD’s central station. She’d called Detective Marquette from the road, and he’d assured her he’d be in his office and ready with the pictures.

She’d also called Elena, and she and Michael were packing for their beach picnic. Leaving Michael with Elena had been the right thing to do. No way could Michael have handled this trip to the police station.

Devon’s gaze darted around the busy floor where the elevator had deposited them. This scene made her nervous.

“Are you okay?” Kieran’s warm breath caressed her earlobe, and she straightened her shoulders.

“Yep. Let’s get this over with. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

They asked for Detective Marquette at the front desk, and the officer paged him. A few minutes later, he came striding from the cluster of cubicles and offices in the back, hand outstretched. “Glad you could make it up. Sorry for the inconvenience. Some things we still have to do in person.”

As the big man squeezed her hand in a powerful grip, Devon asked, “Any luck with your cell phone?”

“Nope. I’ve called it a few times, but it goes straight to voice mail. I’ve got an order in with my carrier to ping it, but I can pretty much already guess where it is-probably at the bottom of the ocean or in a Dumpster.”

Kieran shook Marquette’s hand. “Any idea where and how it was stolen?”

The detective lifted one suit-clad shoulder. “After I met with the chief, I did some shopping on the main drag for my wife. She loves that knick-knacky tourist stuff. Gets crowded in those shops and I usually keep my work phone in my jacket pocket. Would’ve been easy for a pickpocket to snatch it.”

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Let’s have a look at those pictures. Most of Johnny Del’s former partners are getting up there in age now, but who knows? Maybe you’ll recognize some geezer from the streets of Coral Cove.”

“I don’t see how some senior citizen could be throwing Molotov cocktails around and running along rooftops.” Devon shuffled after Detective Marquette, her hands in her pockets.

“I said they were getting up there, not knocking on death’s door.” He ushered them into a small room with a table, four chairs and a two-way window. A loose-leaf binder lay open on the table.

“Have a seat and let me tell you how this is going to work.” Detective Marquette pulled out a chair for Devon and she perched on the edge.

Kieran sat next to her and flipped through the binder.

Detective Marquette tapped the first page encased in plastic. “Five sheets with six mug shots each. Members of Del Vecchio’s gang of thieves, including Johnny Del himself, are scattered throughout. Have a look. Let me know if any of the faces jump out at you-people you may have seen around your apartment house. Someone you’ve seen on the streets of Coral Cove.”

Taking a deep breath, Devon scooted the book closer to Kieran. “You can look at them, too.”

She studied the photos, the lines and creases on each worn face telling stories, sketching personalities. The men in these pictures weren’t hot off their first crimes or even the last crimes that had put them away. These mug shots of late middle-aged men full of regret and bitterness had obviously replaced the young criminals full of bravado and swagger.

When she turned to the fourth page, a pair of dark eyes challenged her, the twist of the lips knowing and seductive. She traced her finger around the face.

Kieran sucked in a breath. “Someone you know?”

“I’m not sure.” She brought the book closer to her face and smoothed over the wavy plastic with the side of her thumb. “This one looks familiar.”

“Let me see.” Kieran took the book from her hands and zeroed in on the photo with his good eye. “Kind of looks like Sam.”

“Sam? Elena’s Sam?” She jerked the book out of his hands and squinted at the mug shot. “Too old.”

“I didn’t say it was Sam. Just looks a little like him around the eyes and mouth.”

Detective Marquette cleared his throat. “Who’s Sam?”

“Michael’s seeing a therapist in Coral Cove, Elena Estrada. Sam Frost is her boyfriend.”

“How old is Sam?” Marquette scribbled Sam’s name on his notepad.

“He’s about Elena’s age-early fifties maybe? What do you think, Kieran?”

“Is that how old Elena is? At first I thought her new boyfriend was younger.”

“Well, he’s in good shape and I think he dyes his hair.”

“Doesn’t matter if the guy’s her age or if she’s robbing the cradle, this man-” he tapped the photo “-Bud, The Pelican, Pelicano, died in prison last year.”

“W-was he one of Johnny Del’s cohorts?” Devon flipped to the next page to escape The Pelican’s intense stare.

“Yes, he was.”

Devon shivered and studied the six-pack on the following page.

Kieran scooted his chair back, stood up and stretched. He paced behind Detective Marquette and leaned over his left shoulder. Pointing to a thick folder on the table, he said, “Mind if I take a look?”

“Go ahead.” The detective shoved the folder toward the edge of the table where Kieran scooped it up.

He flipped through the pages as Devon finished perusing the mug shots. She slapped the book closed. “Nothing. I don’t recognize anyone there from my apartment house or from Coral Cove. If one of those guys did kill Granny Del and is now after me, he’s keeping himself well hidden-and for no reason. I didn’t see a thing.”

“We’ve made it clear we have no witnesses, Ms. Reese.”

Kieran dropped the open file folder on the table and jabbed his finger at the drawing of Granny Del’s kitchen. “That’s where she was found?”

Devon leaned over. “Yeah, in the kitchen. She must’ve been washing dishes or something. That’s how the guy drowned her-dunked her head in the kitchen sink. By the time I showed up, the sink was overflowing.”

“And what’s this?” He scraped his fingernail around a rectangle penciled on the wall.

“That’s an old dumbwaiter. We don’t use it.”

Tilting his head, Kieran massaged his temple above the eye patch. “You think the killer was trying to get information from Mrs. Del Vecchio, Detective?”

“Probably. Why else kill the old lady?” He smacked his fist on the book. “All these guys had already done their time. There was always a rumor that Johnny Del had stashed away some money from one of their heists. Someone probably came looking for it and tried to get it out of Johnny’s widow.”

“That’s crazy. Mrs. Del Vecchio didn’t have a lot of money.”

Detective Marquette shrugged. “These rumors get passed around among family members until they become legend. Now I need you to sign a statement that you viewed the photos.”

He slipped a piece of paper from the front of the binder and placed it in front of Devon. “Sign and date here and put your comments in the box.”

“I guess I should put that number twenty-three, The Pelican, looked like Sam, huh, Kieran?” She held the pen poised above the comments box on the form. Then she glanced at Kieran, still studying the crime scene drawing. “Kieran?”

“Huh?” He looked up, his brows drawn over his nose.

“Sam and The Pelican. Should I note the similarity?”

“Yeah. Detective Marquette?”

“Sure. Why not? I’ll look at Pelicano more closely if you want.”

Devon scribbled in the box and then shoved back from the table. “Let’s get home. I’m going to text Elena first.”

She pulled her cell from her purse and typed in a text message to Elena asking if everything was okay. A minute later, Elena responded with, ok on picnic.

“Ready, Kieran?”

He dropped the file folder on the table. “Let’s go.”

Kieran’s eye ached, and he fumbled in his pocket for the small bottle of ibuprofen he kept there. They thanked Detective Marquette, who promised to keep Devon informed and suggested she find another place other than Coral Cove for R and R.

When they got in the car, Kieran popped the pill in his mouth and gulped some warm water from the bottle in the cup holder.

“What’s wrong?”

“My eye’s throbbing.”

“Is that why you were so distracted back there?”

“How far is your apartment from here?”

“Not far. I’m in North Beach. It’s a few blocks north of here, up Columbus.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“I’d like to have a look around.”

“My place? We can’t get into Granny Del’s.”

“Your place will do.” He flattened the pad of his thumb against the two vertical lines between her eyebrows. No need to worry her about a hunch. “Since we’re so close, I’d like to see where you and Michael live.”

She started the engine and backed out of the parking slot. “Okay, but I promised Michael I wouldn’t go home.”

He covered her hand on the steering wheel. “And I promised him I’d take care of you.”

It took less than five minutes to arrive at the front of Devon’s apartment house-an old Victorian that had been converted. She parallel parked in a small space and reached across his knees for the glove compartment. She pulled out a plastic card and hung it from her rearview mirror. “Parking permit for the neighborhood.”

He followed her up the three steps to the front door and stood to the side while she inserted a key. So how’d the killer get in without anyone seeing him?

Kieran looked up. No security cameras.

Devon slipped through the front door and propped it open for him with the toe of her shoe. She pointed to a door to the left. “That’s the infamous laundry room. If I hadn’t decided to put a load in that day, I wouldn’t be in this mess now.”

“If you hadn’t decided to put a load in that day, you never would’ve come back to Coral Cove and run into me.” He grabbed her hand and kissed it.

She closed her fist around the material of his shirt and pulled him near. “You would’ve found me, Kieran. Wherever I was, you would’ve found me.”

He pressed his lips against hers and then ducked around her to peek into the laundry room. “Your back was to the door when it slammed shut?”

“Absolutely. I thought it was the annoying teen who lives on my floor.” She tugged at his arm. “This is Mrs. Del Vecchio’s apartment.”

Kieran tried the handle. No yellow tape crisscrossing the door, but it was locked. “You’re right above her?”

“This way.”

He followed her up the stairs and waited while she unlocked her door. Stepping through the door, he blinked. Sun soaked through every window in the place. Casual furniture and colorful prints on the walls didn’t make the apartment look like some place you’d want to flee. “It suits you.”

“It used to suit me. How am I ever going to get Michael back here?”

“When you’re safe and this is all over, he’ll heal.” He took a turn around the room. “Is your layout the same as Mrs. Del Vecchio’s?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

He wandered toward the kitchen, sudden apprehension clawing at his gut. He glanced at the sink, imagining it full of sudsy water and an old woman struggling for her life. He stopped short and gripped the edge of the tiled counter. “Is that the dumbwaiter?”

Devon came up behind him, clutching one of Michael’s toys in her hand. “Yeah. If you couldn’t tell, this was an old house. The builders left the dumbwaiter thinking it would give the place character, but it’s been a pain.”

“Why?”

She waved the toy at the dumbwaiter. “Because you can manipulate it from the inside and Michael kept crawling in there.”

Cold fear slithered up his spine. “Does it work?”

“Yeah, it works.”

“And it goes down to Mrs. Del Vecchio’s kitchen.”

She cocked her head. “Yes.”

“Did Michael ever use it to go down to Granny Del’s?”

“H-he did, but I told him to stop. I was afraid it would break or he’d get trapped.” She hugged the toy. “Why the interest in the dumbwaiter, Kieran?”

He took two steps and slid open the door of the dumbwaiter. The space yawned in front of him, inviting, doubly so for a young boy. He toed off his running shoes and ducked inside.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going in.”

“Why? What’s this about?” Devon’s voice had raised two octaves. She’d caught his edge of worry. “You’re not going to fit.”

“I’ll be right back.” He folded his frame, pulled his knees up to his chest and crammed his body inside the cavity. He yanked at the ropes to lower the dumbwaiter, and it inched down the space inside the wall.

A four-year-old boy would love this.

When the dumbwaiter descended and plunked to a stop, Kieran slid open the door just a few inches. He had a view of Mrs. Del Vecchio’s kitchen…and her sink.

Hand over hand, he pulled at the ropes, ascending back to Devon’s apartment with his heart hammering in his chest. He slid the door open, and Devon’s face, etched with worry, appeared in front of him.

“What is it? What did you see?”

“Everything. Michael is the one who witnessed Granny Del’s murder.”