Eyewitness

Chapter Seven

Kieran shot to his feet, adrenaline pumping through his system full force. He recognized that sound. God, he recognized that sound.

Devon jumped up, too, her head tilted to the side. She placed a hand on his arm. “He has nightmares.”

He charged past her and shoved open Michael’s door. Michael screamed again, his back bolted to the headboard, his eyes staring vacantly in front of him.

Pain hammered the back of Kieran’s skull. His hands clenched. He wanted to rip something apart. He wanted to smash his fist through the wall.

His son trembled on the bed, halfway between wakefulness and a sleep that clutched and dragged him back to the horrors of his nightmare.

Devon hovered behind him and Kieran dragged in a deep, steadying breath. This wasn’t his nightmare. It was Michael’s, and his son needed him, needed him to be calm and sure, not a raging lunatic ready to do violence.

He took a step toward the bed and whispered, “Michael.”

Michael’s fists bunched the bedclothes. His eyes flickered. His next scream gurgled in his throat and died with a whimper.

Kieran perched on the edge of the mattress. “It’s okay, Michael. It’s just a dream. Dreams can’t hurt you.”

Michael sucked in a breath of air and let it out with a whistle. His brown eyes darkened. His grip on the covers loosened.

“That’s it. Push the dream away. Your mom’s here.”

“Mom?” Michael rubbed his nose and blinked his eyes.

Devon crept toward the bed as if afraid she’d break a spell. “I’m here.”

Leaning forward, she kissed Michael’s head. “It was just a bad dream, sweet pea. Do you remember what it was about?”

“No.”

“Just scary, huh?” She pulled him from the jumbled covers and wrapped her arms around him. “If you remember what it was about, you can tell Dr. Elena. She likes to hear about dreams.”

“She told me.”

“Good.” She ruffled his hair. “That wasn’t much of a nap.”

Michael’s features sharpened, and Kieran understood his son didn’t want to return to dreamland. Why would he want to return to a world of fears and threats and monsters?

“Why don’t you bring your blanket with you, and join your mom and me in the living room? If you feel tired, you can fall asleep and we’ll be right there with you.”

Michael scrambled from the bed, dragging a small blanket with him, and Devon mouthed the words “thank you.”

Michael curled up in a corner of the couch, facing the TV. Devon tucked the blanket around him and plumped a pillow behind his head.

“I get the hint.” Devon opened a cabinet and held up a couple of DVDs. “Which one?”

Michael pointed at one with animated fish on the cover, and Devon slid it into the DVD player. She raised an eyebrow at Kieran. “Are you joining us?”

Did he have a choice? The woman was relentless. She was probably hoping Michael would conk out in minutes and she could resume her third-degree interrogation. He could withstand the Taliban, but Devon Reese was in a whole other category, even though he didn’t have any better answers ready this time around.

If he told her the truth, she’d shrug it off, suggest a remedy, find the silver lining. She was good at that.

She apparently didn’t have a problem with a one-eyed man. Not that he expected her to. She was still as loyal and pure as the woman of his dreams-the good dreams.

He dropped to a cushion on the couch, and she settled next to him, between him and Michael. Michael stretched out his legs across his mother’s lap.

One cozy family…until the nighttime terrors.

“Hmm, I wish we had some popcorn.” Devon tickled the soles of Michael’s feet. His giggle turned into a cough.

“Do you want some water?” Kieran half rose from the couch.

“Yes, please.”

Kieran exchanged a glance with Devon. Michael seemed to be talking more. He’d suffered two traumas today, and instead of thrusting him back into his shell, the experiences seemed to be coaxing him out.

Kieran ambled to the kitchen, in no hurry to get back to the talking and singing fish. While he poured a glass of water for Michael, the boy’s cough worsened.

He returned and handed the glass to Michael once he’d settled down after another coughing fit.

“That doesn’t sound good, sweet pea, and you know what the EMTs said.” Devon rubbed circles on Michael’s back as he sipped the water. “Is your throat scratchy?”

“A little.” He took another gulp of water and then coughed up most of it.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital. We both breathed in a lot of smoke in that bathroom-icky smoke. I’m just following up on the EMTs’ orders.”

“I agree.” Kieran held out his hand for the empty glass, and Michael’s dark eyes searched his face.

“Can you come?”

“Of course I’ll come.” He pointed to his eye patch. “I’ve spent a lot of time at hospitals recently.”

“Fire?”

He shrugged. “Just an accident.”

By the time they got to the hospital Michael had lapsed back into silence, but Kieran had hope Dr. Elena could help him. They hadn’t even gotten a chance to talk to her about the session today. Too much excitement.

After the doctor examined Michael, he gestured Devon and Kieran into the hallway. “I’d like to keep him overnight for observation. I’m going to give him an inhaler to use tonight to ease his breathing and his cough. Then I’d like to take an X-ray of his lungs.”

“H-he has nightmares, Dr. Jessup. I’d rather not leave him.”

“We’ll keep an eye on him. You can stick around for a while if you like. The anti-inflammatory medicine I’m going to give him will make him drowsy.”

They spent the next few hours in Michael’s room and even shared a dinner of hospital food with him. Devon wanted to spend the night in his room, but the nurses convinced her he’d get more rest if he could drift off to sleep by himself and not try to stay awake to be with his mom.

Devon told Michael before he got his next dose of medicine that she’d be leaving him there for the night. “If you need anything or have any bad dreams, the nurses will be right here to help you. They can call me and I’ll be here in a flash.”

She snapped her fingers. “You forgot to bring your backpack. Where is your backpack? I haven’t seen it lately.”

Michael hunched his shoulders. “Lost it.”

“You lost your Thomas the Tank Engine backpack? What did you have in there?”

“Nothing.” Michael scrunched against the pillows and pulled the covers up to his chin.

“I’ll look for it at home.” Devon smoothed the sheet over Michael’s body. “So are you going to be okay here?”

He nodded.

Michael’s easy acceptance of his fate didn’t surprise Kieran. The efficiency and routine of the hospital seemed to have had a calming effect on him…but not on his mother.

They hung around until Michael was so drowsy he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

Devon fidgeted on her way to the car. “Do you think he’s going to be okay?”

“He’s probably fast asleep right now.”

“What if he wakes up? What if he has another nightmare?”

“Does he have those nightmares every night?”

“No, maybe once a week now.”

“He seemed better today, at least better than yesterday.”

“He did, didn’t he? Talked a little more.” She pulled her phone from her pocket. “Elena called while we were in Michael’s room. It’s probably too late to call her back tonight, but I want to find out how the session went.”

“When I was talking to her-before the explosion-she seemed to think it went great, but if there had been any huge breakthroughs, she would’ve told you by now.”

“Speaking of breakthroughs, since we’re driving past town I’m going to drop by the police station and pick up my purse and license.”

“Good idea. We can see if they have any leads on the fire.”

The cop at the front desk handed over Devon’s purse and license, but had no information about the explosion in the bathroom. “All I know is that we didn’t arrest anyone this afternoon…except a drunk driver on the coast highway.”

“Well, that’s something, anyway.” Devon signed for her belongings. “I suppose you don’t have anything on the guy who stole my purse, either.”

“No. A jogger found it on the side of the road. Could’ve just been a passerby who saw your purse in an unattended car and took his chances.”

“And broke my window and slashed my tires for the fun of it?” When the cop held up his hands, Devon broke off. “Whatever.”

They turned to leave and the cop stopped them with a cleared throat. “You’re Kieran Roarke, right? You’re the one who broke into the bathroom and saved Ms. Reese?”

“I am.”

“You didn’t happen to blow through that lock with a.45, did you?”

“Yeah, I did. The gun’s licensed to my father. I found it at his house.”

The cop looked down and shuffled some papers on the desk. “Uh, the chief might want to talk to you about that. You need a license to carry a concealed weapon.”

“He knows where I’m staying, and I’m a member of the U.S. military. I think I know how to handle a gun.”

They walked into the cool, clear night and Devon stared at his profile. “You had a gun all this time?”

“I found it last night in my parents’ house. Cleaned it and took it with me this morning. Good thing I did.”

“Yeah, but you can’t just run around carrying a gun.”

“Sure I can.” And he had every intention of keeping the weapon handy as long as someone might be after Devon. The army hadn’t discharged him yet.

They got into Devon’s car and she collapsed against the seat back. “Did that hospital food do the trick for you, or are you still hungry?”

“I’m good.” Was she still trying to fatten him up?

“I’m going to call the hospital and check on Michael.” She dug for her cell and placed the call. After a few minutes of conversation, she flashed him a thumbs-up sign. “Michael’s still sleeping and he’s not coughing.”

She cranked on the engine and slipped him a sideways glance. “I suppose you want to head home?”

“No way.”

“N-no way?”

“Someone threw a Molotov cocktail into a bathroom today-you were in that bathroom. We don’t know yet if you were the target, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

Devon’s face brightened, and Kieran swallowed hard. He didn’t want to burst her bubble, but he had to make it clear he wanted to be her protector not her seducer. Scratch that. He wanted to seduce her but it wasn’t going to happen.

“I have to admit, I’d feel safer with you at my mom’s house, but I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“No trouble…except, can you swing by my place first so I can pick up a jacket?”

“A jacket? Are you cold?”

Not yet, but he’d be plenty cold keeping vigil out in her car. “Yeah.”

Instead of taking the turnoff into town, Devon continued driving along the coast highway until she took the exit for Coral Cove Drive. She pulled up to the curb and cut the engine. “I’ll wait here.”

He reached across her body and pushed open her door. “Humor me.”

She sighed, but wasted no time scrambling from the car. He felt for the house key in the pocket of his jeans and turned to ask her inside. He didn’t feel comfortable with her waiting on his porch. He didn’t want her out of his sight, as limited as that sight was.

A light across the street caught his attention, and he gazed over Devon’s left shoulder, squinting. Was his good eye playing tricks on him?

“What’s wrong?”

“I saw a light at Columbella House.”

DEVON WHIPPED AROUND to face the street. “That’s impossible. The electricity’s off, right?”

“It was yesterday, even when I went back inside to collect my stuff.”

“So you think someone’s over there with a flashlight or, God forbid, a candle? The cop who came to my aid yesterday said his girlfriend had been seeing lights here, but I figured she’d seen your activity.”

“There’s one way to find out.”

She grabbed his arm as he charged down the steps of the porch. “You’re going over there?”

“What if it has something to do with the explosion in the bathroom? The slashed tires? What if someone is watching you? Following you?”

His words caused a rash of goose bumps to spread across her skin. “You’re not leaving me here.”

“Didn’t plan on it.” He grabbed her hand, and together they crossed the street to Columbella House, which showed a dark, deserted front to the casual passerby.

“How long were you staying here?”

“About a week-and I had the place to myself.”

“Maybe someone took up residency when you vacated.”

He pushed through the side gate and ushered her to the path that ran along the house. She pointed to the sky. “The moon is giving us plenty of light out here, but what do we do once we’re inside?”

“I left candles and matches in the kitchen.”

She shivered. “Just what this place needs…another fire.”

When they reached a side door, Kieran pulled back the piece of plywood covering the window and reached inside to unlock the door. He swung it open and stepped into the darkness first. “Wait.”

A few seconds later, the flare of a match and the scent of sulfur. Then Kieran stepped toward her, the candle’s flame illuminating the sharp planes of his face. He looked more like a pirate than ever in the candlelight.

“Be careful on this floor. Some of the tile is cracked.”

“Be careful with that candle.”

“I’ll lead the way. Hold on to my belt loop or something.” He whispered, and the words made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, even though she knew he was one of the good guys.

Curling her fingers through his belt loop, she shuffled behind him, trusting him to guide her. Just like old times. They turned a corner into the sitting room, where furniture hunched beneath draped white covers looked like squat little ghosts that couldn’t even muster a boo.

Her nostrils twitched at the smell of fire still strong in this area of the house. “Y-you saw the light in the library?”

“In the window at the side of the house. That’s the library, right?”

“Through those doors.” She pointed to the double doors standing open in invitation. “But we weren’t exactly quiet when we broke in here.”

“Maybe he’s still hiding in the library, light extinguished, waiting.”

She yanked on his jeans. “That doesn’t make me want to go snooping around the library.”

He turned, holding the candle up to her face, casting his own in shadow. With her fingers still hooked in his belt loop at the back of his jeans, Devon’s arm wrapped around his waist. She left it there.

“You’re not afraid of Columbella House, are you?”

“No.” How could she be afraid of a place that held the memories of their love? Especially since that’s all they had left.

Cupping the candle with his hand, he took a step closer, his warm breath caressing her ear. “When I got to Coral Cove, the house drew me.”

She closed her eyes. His familiar masculine scent overpowered her senses. Her breath came out in shallow spurts and she parted her lips to take in more air. Her arm, draped around his waist, sagged to his hip, and his jeans chafed her inner wrist.

“This house…” A scuttling sound propelled her against his chest and he pulled her snug against his body with one arm. His heart thudded against the palm of her hand as they stood frozen, their feet rooted to the hardwood floor.

After a few seconds that seemed like minutes, Kieran shifted his body away from hers. “Do you still want to investigate?”

Tilting her head back, she gazed into his eye, the darkness of the house rendering it black to match the patch, the dance of the flame adding sparks of light. “Do you still have that gun?”

“You didn’t feel it?” He patted the pocket of his sweatshirt.

Her cheeks warmed. She didn’t want to get into what she’d felt when he pulled her into his arms. “If you still have the gun, I still want to investigate.”

He turned from her, and she grabbed the back of his jacket. He weaved through the furniture in the sitting room and passed through the double doors that led to the library. The smell of smoke permeated everything in this room. A gaping hole scarred one wall of the library where firefighters had barreled through the panel to the secret room to put out the flames that had threatened to devour it.

Kieran swept the beam of his flashlight across the library and its covered furniture. Where they walked, dust swirled in the shaft of light. He directed the flashlight at the floor.

“Footprints.”

She studied the pool of light on the floor, which illuminated men’s footprints in the dust and ash. “Could be anyone’s. Could even be yours from before.”

“I don’t think so.” He placed his running shoe over the outline, his foot exceeding the imprint.

She took a tentative step forward, poking her head into the gash in the wall. The firefighters, or someone, had removed the big four-poster bed that used to dominate the room. Larry Brunswick had died on that bed, thrown himself onto it as if diving into a funeral pyre.

Kieran’s hand trailed up her arm. “I remember this room.”

“From before?”

“From before. With you.”

The fingertips brushing her arm caused her insides to quiver and she sucked in a breath. “We spent time here.”

“We didn’t fear the ghosts?”

Her tremulous lips managed a smile. “We were willing to brave anything for a few moments of privacy.”

“The house drew you, too, didn’t it? I knew you’d come here eventually.”

She tilted her head. “I thought you didn’t remember me.”

“I saw you when you got here, Devon, you and Michael. Maybe even then I realized he was mine. I watched you. I waited.”

She rubbed her arms. Seems a lot of people had been watching her lately-some with good intentions and some with bad. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

He shook his head. “And say what? I don’t know who you are, but I feel you inside me. I don’t know your name, but you kept me alive for four long years in a stinking hovel.”

“And if we hadn’t bumped into each other on the beach?” She pressed her hand against his chest, over his heart where its pounding reverberated against her palm.

“I don’t know. Maybe I would’ve taken it as a sign to move on.”

She bunched her fingers into his shirt. “You were willing to leave my life up to fate? Michael’s life?”

“It might’ve been better.” He gripped her hand, squeezing the blood out of it. “How do I know all this danger surrounding you isn’t coming from me?”

“What?”

“What if the government wants me to come in? What if my captors have come after me?”

Her jaw dropped. He couldn’t really believe that, could he? Had his years in captivity made him paranoid? Delusional?

She yanked her hand from his strong grasp. “I don’t believe that for a minute. If the army wanted you in, they’d come and talk to you, not try to kill your fiancée…your ex-fiancée.”

He plowed a hand through his black hair, the ends gleaming in the candlelight. “I don’t know, Devon. I feel like I’m toxic. Wherever I go, evil follows.”

Tears flooded her eyes. “That’s not true, Kieran. When I saw you, I knew all my prayers had been answered. You’re alive, even though you don’t belong to me anymore. And Michael has a father.”

He brushed the pad of his thumb across her lips, and then cupped her jaw with his rough hand. “I want to be a father to Michael, but…”

“Shh.” She put a finger to her lips. “I heard that noise again.”

Kieran turned and took several more steps into the burned-out room. “I think it’s a rat or something.”

“Ugh.” She followed him into the center of the room. “I can’t believe most of the furniture survived the blaze.”

She didn’t want to hear Kieran’s objections to being Michael’s father. Michael needed a dad, now more than ever. She kicked a heavy dresser with the toe of her shoe. The finish had been destroyed by the flame retardant the firefighters had used to put out the fire.

“Mia St. Regis needs to come back and make some sense of this place.” She yanked open the top drawer of the dresser and it came apart in her hand. “Oops.”

“Is it broken?” He’d come up behind her and placed one hand on her shoulder, balancing the flashlight on top of the dresser.

She looked into the wavy mirror at their reflections. They looked like something out of a funhouse-distorted, hazy, disjointed. She wanted the old Kieran and Devon back-whole, undamaged, in love.

His touch turned into a caress and he bent his head and pressed his lips against her temple.

A scuttling sound drove her back against his chest, and he laughed. “Maybe a family of mice has taken up residence in this dresser.”

She held up the larger piece of the dresser drawer by its handle. “And maybe I just destroyed their home.”

The rest of the drawer broke off and dropped to the floor with a thud. Kieran crouched, his head cocked to one side. “There’s a false bottom in this drawer.”

Devon’s heart pumped faster. “Do you remember how we used to search around this house for more secret passageways and cubbies?”

“I remember this room…and you.” He rapped his knuckles against the bottom of the drawer. “Do you hear that?”

All she could hear was the blood pounding in her ears. Why couldn’t he just take her in his arms and kiss her…on the lips this time…hard?

“Help me.” His long fingers traced around the edges of the inside of the drawer.

Devon added her hands to his, her fingers pressing, exploring. She’d rather be exploring his body.

She felt a spring and the back of the drawer popped forward. “Got it!”

She reached forward, but he cinched her wrist. “Better make sure there are no rats in there.”

“Don’t try to scare me.” She slapped his hand away.

She inched her hand into the cavity of the drawer, her fingertips skimming the leather edge of a book. “I think it’s a book or something.”

She gripped the book and pulled it out of the secret compartment. Holding it up, she said, “Look.”

Kieran rubbed the sleeve of his jacket against the red, leather-bound book, which had a small lock holding the front and back covers together. “Looks like a diary.”

“Oh, maybe it belongs to some long-lost St. Regis relative. Should we snoop and break the little lock?”

“We broke into the house. What’s a diary?”

Kieran tucked the book under his arm and pulled Devon back into the library. He raised the candle to peer at the lock.

Instinct drew Devon’s gaze to the window.

Kieran jerked his head up. “What is it?”

“I thought I saw…”

A flash of light and a crack at the window interrupted her words. And then she had no breath to speak at all because Kieran had tackled her to the floor.