A Reason to Believe (36 page)

“He’s going to get lucky,” Kiernan murmured,

his tone amused.

“Or she’s going to pass out.”

They were so busy watching the young man

trying to maneuver his drunken date into the car

they didn’t immediately notice the garage door on

the house across the street start to lift. When

Kiernan did, he gripped Matt’s arm hard and

pointed. “Look.”

The door slid slowly up. Headlights set on

bright washed the street in stark, unforgiving light,

and the couple in front of them planted themselves

against their vehicle as a sleek car roared from the

garage and flew past them in a spray of wet snow.

“Son of a bitch,” the young man said. “Watch

where you’re going, asshole!”

But the car was already weaving its way down

the hilly road, the red taillights growing smaller in

the distance.

“That was the silver Mercedes,” Matt said.

“The one that passed us leaving Karen Reynolds’

house.”

“Looks like Preston is in a hurry, doesn’t it?”

The garage door slid closed, then it immediately

started to open again.

“What the hell…” Matt straightened in his seat,

watching as the door retraced its movements,

sliding open and then remaining that way. He

stared, waiting for someone to enter the garage

from a door in the middle of the back wall, but no

one did. “This could not be that easy,” he muttered,

looking at the meticulously neat garage.

“He was in a bit of a rush,” Kiernan said, his

voice brimming with thinly veiled excitement.

“And maybe,” he went on, a smile tugging at the

corner of his mouth, “we’ve been given a little

spiritual intervention.”

Matt searched the brightly lit space, a chill

skirting over his shoulders. “Abby?”

“I don’t see her,” Kiernan said. “But I can sense

something.”

“Okay.” Matt wondered fleetingly when such an

announcement had ceased to seem weird, but

decided it didn’t bear thinking about at the

moment.

They watched the garage, and they waited. The

couple in front of them managed to get into their

car and leave, and the square of white light from

the open garage door continued to spill into the

street. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen. Finally,

Matt unfastened his seat belt and Kiernan did the

same.

“I don’t suppose it would do me any good to ask

you to stay in the car?”

Kiernan sent him a narrowed-eyed look rife

with exasperation.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Okay, fine. But

you’ll do as I tell you, when I tell you. Got it?”

“Whatever you say, Officer.” He rubbed his

hands together. “Let’s go break in to someone’s

house!” He grinned impishly. “You have no idea

how long I’ve wanted to say that.”

“I’m not screwing around here, Kiernan,” Matt

said sharply. “We don’t know what’s in there,

who’s in there. I think it was Preston in the car, but

the windows were tinted dark enough I can’t be

sure. He could still be in that house. We could

trigger an alarm set for the door, which means

we’d have to make a run for it. Whatever happens,

you need to stick close to me and let me take the

lead, you got it?”

Kiernan nodded solemnly, even though his eyes

gleamed with excitement.

“I wish that light wasn’t on,” Matt muttered.

“It’s going to be like being onstage.”

Almost as soon as the words passed his lips, the

light went out, plunging the open garage, the

driveway and the street into darkness.

Matt jerked in surprise. “Okay. That’s just

fucking creepy.”

“That’s fortuitous,” Kiernan said, amusement

making his voice tremble. “I think that wasn’t so

much divine intervention as a timer.”

“Yeah, I like that version better.”

Kiernan chuckled as they climbed out of the car.

The temperature had dropped and it was a brutal

slap in the face. Kiernan hissed, tucking his hands

under his arms. Matt paused to make certain there

weren’t any stray partygoers in the street and then

crossed, Kiernan close behind. When they got to

the columns flanking the drive, Matt ducked low

and quickly cut around. Kiernan followed, almost

silent behind him.

They pressed themselves against the house, and

Matt inched his way toward the open garage door.

Before he entered, he glanced back at Kiernan,

who was close against his side.

“You stay here,” he whispered firmly.

“But…”

“No but’s. You said you’d do what I told you.

You will not go in there until I determine the house

is empty. Now, duck down over there.” He

gestured to some tall bushes that flanked the door.

“I’ll come back and get you when I know it’s

clear.”

Kiernan obviously wasn’t happy about it if the

set of his mouth was anything to judge by, but he

didn’t argue. Matt waited long enough to see him

secret himself behind the shrub, then moved

cautiously through the darkened garage. When he

arrived at the door into the house, he unfastened

the leather strap holding his revolver in place and

pulled it out of the holster. Holding it near his

head, he reached for the doorknob, steeling himself

for the blare of an alarm. His heart was beating so

hard he could feel it in his throat.

It was almost anticlimactic when the door

clicked and eased open into silence. It didn’t even

squeak.

Matt stepped into the dim interior, closing the

door silently behind him. To his left was a large

formal living room. Light spilled into it through a

doorway, throwing deep shadows across an

enormous sectional and a huge, dark fireplace.

Floor-to-ceiling corner windows showed a

breathtaking view of the city below, and a black

grand piano sat in the corner, its lid propped open.

He moved stealthily on nearly silent feet and did

a walk through, slowly, cautiously, searching for

shadows, listening for footsteps. He moved

carefully from room to room, gun extended and

finger on the trigger, but the main floor was empty.

A set of stairs led to a finished basement, but it

was one huge open space without a single door

into another room, nowhere for someone to hide,

no furnishings.

He holstered his gun when he arrived back

upstairs.

He leaned around the garage doorframe and

found Kiernan where he’d left him, still crouched

behind the bushes. “It’s all clear.”

Kiernan jerked slightly and glared up at him.

“Good. I’m freezing my fucking nubs off.”

Matt snorted softly as Kiernan slipped into the

dark garage. “You do realize it’s impossible to

actually freeze your nubs off, right?”

“So you say. My nubs would beg to differ.”

They’d taken only a few steps when Kiernan

caught Matt’s hand, causing his heart to leap into

his throat. Kiernan gestured toward the other side

of the door with his head. “The molding.”

A piece of wide rubber molding that had been

used as insulation around the garage door had

come loose and was hanging, swinging slightly, in

front of the door sensor. Anything blocking the

sensor would cause the door to re-open.

“Fortuitous.” Matt opened the door and stepped

into the dim quiet of the house. He heard the soft

shuffle of footsteps as Kiernan followed him, and

the muted clicking sound as he pulled the door

closed.

Matt caught Kiernan’s eye and pointed at a

square glass coffee table with chrome fittings

sitting in front of the sofa. On it was a cut-crystal

candy dish, filled to the brim with small hard

candies wrapped in golden cellophane.

Kiernan nodded in acknowledgement. Then Matt

spotted a laptop computer beside the dish, top

open. The screen was dark. He crossed silently to

the sectional. Leaning over the table, he touched

the mouse pad with a gloved finger, and the screen

burst to life.

Pictured was the master sign-in page for the

police department’s search engine. Matt exhaled in

a rush. He’d been fairly certain it had been

Preston, but this provided confirmation. He felt

Kiernan lean over his shoulder, heard the quiet

sound he made when he saw the screen.

“It is him, then,” he murmured. “There’s no

mistake.”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, it’s him.”

“Which means he knows you were doing a

search on his mother.”

“Yeah. We need to do this and get out of here

before he comes back. Come on.”

Moving with new determination, Matt walked

quietly through the immaculate, almost painfully

modern kitchen, all black granite and stainless

steel. He passed a shadowy bathroom and turned

into another room, this one with heavy dark

furniture and an enormous flat-screen television on

the wall. “We’ll start here.”

Kiernan immediately moved over to a huge set

of shelves that held as many DVDs as Matt had

ever seen outside of a video store. “What am I

looking for?”

“Anything that seems out of place.”

“For instance, Rodgers and Hammerstein

musicals?”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.” Kiernan looked over his shoulder, a

brow raised. “Are you sure this guy is straight?”

Matt snorted softly and turned to the bar. Aside

from the fact the alcohol was all the best money

could buy and appeared to be alphabetized, Matt

couldn’t find anything out of place in the cupboard

under the black granite counter. Another small

candy dish held even more of the butterscotch

candies, and he picked one up, sniffing it to be

sure. The sweet, buttery aroma was unmistakable.

He briefly scanned a row of pinball machines.

Kiernan called out to him quietly. “Matt, this

guy has crazy OCD.”

“What do you mean?” Matt went to him.

“Look at the DVD’s.” It was an eclectic

selection, with all nine seasons of
Cheers

buttressed against the first five seasons of
Dexter.

Immediately after were several full seasons of

Doctor

Who
and

Entourage.

“They’re

alphabetized,” Kiernan said. “Man, this guy

watches a lot of television.”

“I don’t think he watches any television,” Matt

countered.

Kiernan gestured. “He has all of this.”

“Look closer. None of it is open. It’s all still in

the shrink-wrap.” Every single DVD on the shelf

was still in its original clear plastic. “He’s a

collector,” Matt said. “They’re worth more

unopened.”

“And it’s not just movies and television shows.

Books, too.”

A bookcase full of hundreds of books, all

apparently new, stretched along an entire wall.

“I wonder what else he collects? Let’s check the

master bedroom.” Matt walked to a set of double

doors in the far wall, Kiernan on his heels.

The doors opened silently on well-oiled hinges

to an expansive sitting room lit softly by a small

lamp in the far corner. Butter-soft camel leather

furniture sat before yet another fireplace and there

was a thick Oriental carpet on the floor. A

lithograph of a
Phalaenopsis
orchid bloom, at

least six feet wide and equally as tall, hung above

an elegant side table on which sat a crystal vase,

full of the trailing stems of the same white blooms.

The room was beautiful but seemed oddly feminine

when compared to the rest of the house.

“Is it just me…” Kiernan mused.

Matt shook his head. “No.” He headed for

another door. “Bedroom.”

The bed was king-sized and covered in a silk

duvet, also in a soft cream color. A stack of

assorted pillows was piled in front of the

headboard, all in shades of peach and soft green,

and the lamps on the two bedside stands were

crystal. The room was beautiful, but Matt couldn’t

connect the Preston he knew with the almost fussy

décor.

“Matt.”

Something in Kiernan’s voice alerted him. Matt

turned to find him studying an elaborate collage on

the far wall. He’d noticed it in passing, but hadn’t