The Littlest Witness. Amanda Stevens
Читать онлайн книгу.
hated being out so late. Every big city had its dangers, but Chicago after dark seemed particularly perilous, perhaps because she didn’t yet feel at home there. Or perhaps because the weather was so cruel, even for November. The days were gray and dismal, spilling over into frigid nights that seemed to go on forever. Thea sometimes wondered if she would ever be warm again.
But the bone-deep chill came from neither the city nor the temperature. She could have gone anywhere—a southern city, a small town, even out of the country—and the demons would have followed, pursuing her to the ends of the earth if necessary.
Thea’s fate—and her daughter’s—had been sealed four months ago, when she’d fled Baltimore in the middle of the night, leaving behind her identity, her friends and family, and her ex-husband, dead on her bedroom floor.
Because of what she’d done, she and Nikki would be on the run for the rest of their lives. The Mancuso family, along with the rest of the Baltimore Police Department, would never stop looking for them. Thea had violated the Brotherhood, the Blue Wall, and for that she would pay dearly—if she was caught.
Shivering in her long wool coat, she hurried down Woodlawn Avenue, away from the university. The lake was only a few blocks away, and the icy wind whistled through the alleys, in sync for an eerie moment with an ambulance siren that built to a crescendo, then faded.
It was after midnight and the empty streets spooked her. A shiver of warning feathered up her backbone, but when she glanced over her shoulder, there was no one behind her.
Through a break in the buildings, she glimpsed the smokestacks from the power plant. They rose like dark guardians in the night sky, but if anything, the sight deepened Thea’s chill. She felt alone and vulnerable. Exposed.
Normally she would have been home long before now, but three of the five waitresses scheduled for the evening shift at the diner had come down with the flu, and Thea’s boss had pressed her into working a double.
As much as she hated not being home in time to bathe her daughter and put her to bed—an evening ritual that had become important to both of them—Thea couldn’t refuse. Zelda Vanripper, owner of Zelda’s Eatery in Hyde Park, had been good to her, putting her on the day shift so that she could be home with Nikki at night and asking few questions about her background.
So Thea had stayed and worked, and the extra tips would come in handy, as always. But after being on her feet since seven that morning, she couldn’t wait to get home to a hot bath.
Her apartment building was only a few blocks from the diner, but the last two blocks dragged on her frazzled nerves and weary muscles. Huddling in her coat as a frigid gust tore at her, she hurried her steps, more anxious than ever to be out of the cold and the darkness.
As she crossed East Fifty-fifth Street, her apartment building finally came into view, but the sigh of relief died on her lips. Blue lights from half-a-dozen police cars bounced off the sides of buildings and reflected in long wavering beams down the wet street, capturing Thea in a frail azure glow.
She stood frozen for the longest moment, a two-word prayer rambling over and over in her mind. Oh God oh God oh God.
They’d found her!
Her first instinct was to turn and flee, to disappear into the shadows before anyone noticed her. But her daughter was in that building, and nothing, not even her own freedom, could compel her to run. She would never let them take Nikki back to Baltimore, back to the Mancusos, who would raise her in the same corruption in which they’d raised their own son.
Don’t think about that now, Thea ordered herself, burying her trembling hands in her pockets. Don’t think about Rick or the gunshot or all that blood.
Now was definitely not the time to panic.
Head down, shoulders hunched against the wind, she hurried along the sidewalk. When she drew near her building, she could see the area was cordoned off with yellow tape. Several policemen, uniforms and plainclothes, clustered around something in the street, almost directly in front of the building’s entrance.
Thea’s heart rocketed against her ribcage. Bile rose in her throat as she strained to see through the wall of policemen. Please, God, she prayed desperately. Let Nikki be all right.
If anything ever happened to her daughter, Thea wasn’t sure how she would cope. Nikki was her whole life, a sweet damaged angel who had been put through hell because of her parents. Thea would do anything, anything to protect her.
But what if she was too late? What if Rick’s family had somehow found them, and Nikki had tried to get away and…
Almost running now, Thea saw one of the officers step out of the way, and for the first time, she glimpsed the body lying on the pavement. Relief rushed through her when she saw it was a woman and not a child who lay motionless at the officers’ feet. But in the next instant Thea realized with guilty compassion that the victim was someone’s daughter. Her next of kin would be getting that terrible phone call, probably within the hour.
Lenore Mancuso’s grief-stricken face flashed across Thea’s mind, but she quickly shoved it aside. She wouldn’t think about Rick’s mother now, either.
Slowing, Thea hung back from the policemen, hoping they hadn’t seen her. The cold air frosted their breath as they talked and laughed and went about their grisly business with the same disconnection Thea had always found so chilling in Rick.
Teeth chattering from the cold and from nerves, she walked past them, her head still bowed. But as she approached the stoop, one of the officers called out, “Hey, you!”
She hesitated and looked over her shoulder.
“Yeah, you. Come over here.”
Her heart still pounding, Thea turned and slowly descended the steps. The officer met her at the bottom. He was one of the uniforms, middle-aged and heavyset, his face puffy and lined beneath the bill of his rain cap. His poncho billowed in the wind as he lifted his flash-light in her direction.
Automatically Thea turned her face away, but before he could switch on the beam, another car drove up and someone shouted, “Gallagher’s here.”
The man beside her muttered, “About damn time.”
Thea hoped the newcomer would distract the officer so that she could slip away, but he turned to stare down at her in the rain. “You live in this building?”
Thea hesitated, then nodded.
“Out kind of late, aren’t you?”
“I was just coming home from work.” She bit her lip, trying to control the chattering of her teeth. “Wh-what happened?”
“Someone took a dive off the roof,” the officer told her dispassionately. Then, “What’s your name?”
“Thea Lockhart.”
He carefully noted the information in his book. “Where do you work?”
“Zelda’s Eatery. It’s on East Fifty-seventh, near the university.”
Thea expected more questions, but the officer seemed to lose interest as the lights on the unmarked car that had just driven up were killed. They both watched as a man—Gallagher, she presumed—got out. He was tall and his shoulders beneath the heavy overcoat looked enormous. In spite of the cold and the rain, he wasn’t wearing a hat or gloves, and his coat flapped open in the wind, making him seem impervious to the brutal weather.
With grim deliberation, he surveyed the scene, his gaze raking the whole area—including Thea—before he walked toward the body. There was no mistaking who was in charge now. The crowd of officers parted for him, and Thea got a clearer view of the victim. She hadn’t expected so much blood. It reminded her of that night—
She staggered back a step and the policeman beside her caught her arm. “Hey, you okay?”
“I’m fine…”
But she wasn’t. Violence and death hit