Amanda Stevens - The Littlest Witness

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 too close to home, and as ashamed as she was to admit it, her main concern was how to disentangle herself from the police. She couldn’t get involved. She felt sorry for the poor woman lying on the street, but she couldn’t afford to get caught up in a police investigation.

Trembling, she watched as Gallagher knelt and examined the body. He didn’t touch the victim, didn’t disturb the crime scene with so much as a stray glance, but for a long moment, he remained there, studying her face as if her last thoughts might be lingering somewhere on her frozen expression.

After several minutes he stood. “Who was the first officer?” His tone was deep, authoritative. Not cold exactly, but a voice belonging to a man Thea had no wish to confront.

“McGowan,” someone told him.

“Over here,” the man beside her called out.

Gallagher turned and started toward them. His features stood out starkly in the streetlight. Even the rain didn’t diminish the angles of his face, the broad nose, the full sensuous lips. His eyes were blue, which surprised Thea. She’d thought they would be dark, like his hair. The light color was particularly striking against his grave features.

He wore a suit beneath the overcoat, as if he’d taken the time to dress properly before coming out. But his cheeks were roughened with stubble, giving him a sinister appearance that made Thea’s stomach quiver in fear.

His gaze barely grazed her before he said to McGowan, “What happened?”

“Wait here,” McGowan told Thea. He and Gallagher took a few steps away from her, but the wind caught their voices and tossed them back at her. “Looks like a dry dive,” McGowan told him. “DCDS. Detective Cox found a suicide note in her coat pocket.”

“Any idea who she is?”

“Not yet. There’s no ID on her, but Cox has gone up to canvass the roof for a purse or wallet, anything she might have dropped before jumping.”

Almost inadvertently Thea’s gaze followed Gallagher’s to the roof of the building. She thought she could see someone up there now, and she shuddered as the shadow moved away from the edge.

“Who found the body?” Gallagher asked.

“The building manager. Claims he came outside just before midnight to walk his dog, and that’s when he saw the victim lying on the street. He checked for a pulse, didn’t find one and then went back inside to call 911.”

“Great,” Gallagher muttered. “Probably trampled all over anything resembling evidence.” He paused. “Just before midnight you say. How accurate do you figure he is on the time?”