A Reason to Believe (35 page)

addresses, remember? It’s only a matter of time

before they hit on the fact it’s for a computer

registered to another Bennett. Then they’ll have the

house address. We need to be gone by then.”

He started from the room, pulling Kiernan along

by his arm.

“You think they might come looking for us?” he

asked, sounding startled. “It’s not like we broke

the law or anything.”

“No. But we still have to assume we just found

information someone went to a boatload of trouble

to hide.”

They’d arrived in the kitchen, and Matt paused

to look out through the curtains on the door, his

hand instinctively reaching under his jacket. His

fingers closed around the butt of his service

revolver, but the back yard was dark and silent.

“Matt,” Kiernan whispered. “Ambrose Garrett

Preston.
”

“Yeah,” Matt said, his voice equally hushed.

“As in, Assistant District Attorney Garrett

Preston.”

Matt held Kiernan’s wide-eyed gaze. “I don’t

think it’s a stretch to assume he’s named after his

father.”

Chapter Fifteen

Matt cranked up the heat to take the chill from the

Bronco’s cab and clear the frost from the

windshield. He chewed the corner of his lip as his

mind raced, trying to decide what their next move

should be.

“So, now what do we do?” Kiernan asked.

Matt looked at the earnest, almost eager face. “I

should take you straight to the airport,” he said, his

voice rough. “Get you on the first available plane

out of here if there is one.”

Kiernan’s mouth dropped open. “What? Why?”

“Don’t you get it? It isn’t safe! Someone has

already taken a shot at you, leveled threats against

you. As long as I thought they didn’t know where

you were, I believed I could keep you safe. But

they aren’t stupid, Kier. They’ll have figured out

you’re with me. Whoever talked to the media took

care of that.”

“‘They,’ who, Matt? Preston?”

“At the very least, Preston.” Matt lowered his

voice. “Whoever just denied me access to a

departmental website knows we’re on to

something. They can trace the pages I went to.

Christ.” He ran his hand over his hair and stared at

the back of his brother’s dark house. “I shouldn’t

have come here.”

Kiernan followed the direction of Matt’s gaze.

“Do you think they’ll come after your family?”

“I have no idea, but I do know this—when Ed

said they were on the inside, he wasn’t kidding. I

have no idea how high up this goes, but at the very

least, they’re watching the computer systems. And

inside those systems is every bit of information

they need to track me down. My home address, my

banking info, the license plate number on this car.

Everything.” He reached across and grabbed his

hand. “I can’t keep you safe anymore.”

“Bullshit.”

“Look, I appreciate your faith in me,” Matt said,

more exasperated than flattered, “but let’s face

facts. The smart thing to do would be for you to get

the hell out of town as quickly as you can, and for

me to try to get someone to listen to reason about

Preston.”

Kiernan’s blue eyes flashed. “Oh, you think

that’s going to work, do you? Branson isn’t going

to immediately can your ass for continuing to look

into Abby’s murder when you were specifically

told not to? And you think anyone is likely to

believe you, when you’re out because the

department shrink put you out?”

“Probably not. But it isn’t safe, Kiernan. And I

don’t want anything to happen to you!” As he said

the words aloud, Matt realized just how true they

were. He wasn’t sure what his time with Kiernan

would lead to, but the idea of his actually being

hurt made the cold outside seem like nothing

compared to the chill it caused to fill his chest.

Kiernan’s face softened, but he still shook his

head slowly. “I won’t leave. I won’t leave you to

face this alone. I won’t leave Abby in the lurch.”

His wide eyes were solemn. “It goes against

everything I believe in. So we need to come up

with another plan. Okay?”

Matt looked into the resolved expression and

exhaled raggedly. “You’re out of your mind, you

know that, right?”

Kiernan smiled. “So I’ve been told. Repeatedly.

What comes next?”

“Well, all signs point to Preston. We just don’t

have any solid evidence connecting him with the

crime, or any reason he might have for murdering a

six-year-old girl.”

“Still, we’ve got the watch, and the candy.”

“But it’s circumstantial. We can’t prove

anything.” His lips twisted. “Other than a kid who

was waiting tables for a catering company who

saw a distinctive, expensive watch.”

“And the butterscotch candies,” Kiernan

persisted.

“Our only witness to the candy is dead.”

“I know, I know, she can’t testify. So, what

you’re telling me is we need evidence. Where

would we be most likely to find some? He didn’t

leave anything at the crime scene.”

“If I was on the job, and he was considered a

viable suspect, the first step would be to convince

a judge to give us a search warrant. But there isn’t

a judge in this town who would consider him a

suspect. They think they have their man. We’re

tilting at windmills.”

“I like windmills, and the analogy comparing us

to Don Quixote isn’t necessarily far off the mark.

Marching into hell for a heavenly cause,

Matthew.” Kiernan’s smile faded into a thoughtful

expression. “The watch would most likely be at

his house, huh?”

“Or on his wrist. And the only way to be sure

would be to search his residence. But I’m not on

the job. Anything else would be breaking and

entering.”

“Which is a very bad idea for a cop who wants

his job back.”

“Which is a very bad idea for anyone who

doesn’t want to be arrested.”

Kiernan slumped back against the passenger

door. “Of course, first things first. You’d have to

know where the sick bastard lives.”

Matt’s thoughts raced. If he went any further

down this road, there would be no turning back.

He could lose everything. Not just his job, but his

pension, his house, everything he’d worked for.

However, if he was fired, which he was no doubt

going to be, all those things would be in jeopardy

anyway.

And if he did nothing, the prick would get away

with the cold-blooded murder of a little kid.

He put the Bronco into reverse.

“I know where the sick bastard lives,” he said,

and enjoyed the delight that filled Kiernan’s face.

* * *

commented.

Matt navigated the narrow street, cars parked

bumper to bumper down each side. He grimaced,

wondering what they would do if it was Preston.

It wasn’t. The last house before they arrived at

the top of the steep street was awash with festive

lights, and they could see a crowd of well-dressed

people through the massive windows. At the end of

the street, Preston’s low-slung modern house was

mostly dark.

“This may work to our advantage.” Matt

maneuvered around a Mini Cooper and pulled the

SUV in next to a sturdy guardrail. He killed the

lights and the motor. “I had no idea what I was

going to do about the Bronco if the street was

deserted.”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem. Is that it?” Kiernan

asked, studying the house perched at the very end

of the curving street.

“That’s it.”

It was a geometric series of levels and angles

clinging to the edge of the sheer drop-off. Stark,

almost Erector-set-like lines of staggered roof

were heavy with snow. It looked like broken slabs

of pavement, stacked like fallen cards. Light

fixtures on white columns flanked the curving

drive, throwing a bluish glow on the ground. The

rest of the yard was lost in shadow. There were

lights on inside, but they seemed to be deep within

the expansive dwelling. None of the floor-to-

ceiling plate glass windows across the front of the

facade were lit.

“Well, that’s just god-awful ugly.”

“Unfortunately,

having

money

doesn’t

automatically guarantee you have taste.” Matt

peered through the darkness. He recalled Brad

joking that it looked like a poorly designed STD

clinic, and smiled faintly.

“Okay, so now what?”

Matt saw a shadow on a wall deep inside,

movement in what might have been a kitchen or

family room. “There’s someone moving around

inside. We can’t risk anything right now.”

“So, what do we do?”

“We wait.”

“For what?”

Matt got comfortable in his bucket seat. “Until

whoever that is leaves.”

“What if they don’t?”

“Then we come back tomorrow. And we keep

coming back until no one is here.”

“Like a stakeout?”

“Exactly like a stakeout.”

Kiernan grinned in delight. “How cool is that?”

“Yeah, sounds like fun now. Wait until we’ve

sat here for six hours, we’re frozen solid and our

asses are numb.”

After that, they lapsed into silence. The Bronco

was cooling rapidly, but Matt was able to study the

layout. For a house that size it was relatively close

to the street, necessitated by the canyon beyond, no

doubt. The drive and street in front had been

plowed, which should simplify things. He

cataloged in his mind what they should look for

once they got inside. The Rolex, obviously, but

what else? Some sort of covering for shoes,

surgical gloves, butterscotch candies? Stashing the

duct tape and Ketamine in the neighbor’s shed was

one way to get rid of evidence. But what else was

there? Something to tie him to Marc and Karen

Reynolds and their daughter, but what?

Happy inebriated guests in dressy outfits left the

house down the road, some slipping comically on

the ice as they passed. They were loud and full of

liquid cheer, but thankfully they didn’t seem to

notice the two men sitting in the white Bronco. The

silence in the vehicle was weighted, and the cold

grew more and more uncomfortable.

Kiernan shifted restlessly. “How long have we

been here?”

Matt glanced at his watch. “About forty-five

minutes.”

“Feels longer.”

Matt hadn’t seen any movement inside the house

for a while. He contemplated trying to break in

through the back but decided against it; he could

see the small sign from one of the local home

security companies just next to the garage. The last

thing he needed was to trip the alarm, then try to

explain to some uniform what he’d been doing, or

to come face to face with the ADA himself.

Crossing his arms, he sank a bit lower in his seat,

his eyes fixed on the house.

Kiernan shifted beside him and his shoulder

pressed against Matt’s when he leaned closer. “So,

I suppose making out to pass the time is frowned

on during stakeouts.”

Matt snorted out a laugh. “You could say that,

yeah. Besides, most of the detectives in our

department are overweight, balding and married.”

“Clearly a deterrent.”

Matt chuckled. “Yeah.”

Quiet returned, and Matt found the solid weight

against his shoulder comforting. He’d sat more

than one stakeout with Brad. Initially, his presence

in the front of the car had created enough

unresolved sexual tension to cut with a knife, but

once they were a couple, he’d found it

comfortable. There was a similarity to the way he

felt with Kiernan’s weight against his arm, and the

comparison wasn’t lost on him.

Giggling, a young couple passed on the driver’s

side, the young woman blonde and leggy in a very

short, sparkly silver skirt. Her date was tall and

dark haired and held onto her arm to make sure she

didn’t fall. She slipped and gasped, and then

giggled again, caressing her companion’s thigh as

he unlocked the shiny sports car parked in front of

them.