Tygers Page 11

  “Life makes you miserable,” Carol countered.

  “What’s my other option?” Katheryn joked. “The only other one I know of really isn’t my cup of tea.”

  “Change your life so you’re not so miserable. Move back here permanently. You can write anywhere, right? You have Kyle here—and me and Mama Toni.”

  Catching on, Katheryn opened up to Carol long enough to gauge her mind. “And you would have me,” she mused. “Guess my leaving would kind of isolate you. I’ll think about it on one condition.”

  Carol beamed. “Anything. Name your price.”

  Katheryn shook her head in amusement. “You have to help me sort out Mom’s place. If I’m going to stay there, even for a little while, I need to do some major work.” She sobered slightly. “But, that can wait a few days. We have more important things to worry about right now.”

  * * *

  Keith was on pins and needles. He had avoided the funeral home, knowing it was inevitable that he would run into Katie there. He wasn’t exactly hiding from her. In fact, Keith had every intention of seeing her, but seeing her in that venue, when her nerves were sure to be raw, was not his idea of a good start with her.

  The funeral, on the other hand, was different. There would literally be hundreds of people in attendance between Dianna’s work and friends, her charity work, and the police officers and their families who knew her personally. You can’t be married to and widowed by two separate cops in two separate precincts and not know a lot of cops. At the funeral, it would be easy to blend into the crowd. At a later, more appropriate time, he could approach Katie.

  Dressed in a dark blue suit, dark sunglasses, and a cockney hat that his grandfather had given him, he set off for the church. God willing, he wouldn’t manage to upset her just by being there. Keith found a place at the back of the church, and he got barely a glance at Katie as she followed the casket out to the limo.

  At the graveside, he chanced getting closer. He could have picked Katie out in a crowd ten times this size. Her black dress was simple and tasteful. Her long, black hair was plaited in a heavy braid over her shoulder, like a thick silk cord strung over the soft, cotton knit of her dress. She wore black, knee-high boots that missed the bottom of her dress by four or five inches, and black pantyhose took up the gap between. Her eyes were hidden behind incredibly dark glasses.

  Even in high school, the glasses were a signature of Katie’s. Photosensitivity, she told him. It took a doctor’s note for her to wear them in school on sunny days when the light streaming through the high windows tortured her. How she ever got on a stage under the spotlights and footlights was beyond him. She must have been nearly blinded onstage.

  Katie held a single deep pink rose that she placed on the casket, moving forward first—before Carol, Kyle, Mac, and several other men he recognized from Peter’s funeral. He must have called them correctly last time. They were obviously what Katie had dubbed blue-shirt uncles. He looked at the rose again, half buried beneath the other flowers. It was deep pink, the color of appreciation.

  Katie came forward again to drop the traditional handful of dirt on the casket as it disappeared into the grave. Unlike the others, she stayed and watched the casket’s descent. The uncles put a hand on her shoulder or kissed her forehead as they moved away. Strangely, none of them attempted more than that, though they all cornered Carol for more discussion. Somehow, that seemed appropriate.

  People filed away. Katie nodded distractedly as they offered their condolences. Finally, only the blue-shirt uncles milled around Carol and Kyle and cast worried looks at Katie. Carol whispered something to her sister, but Katie shook her head in response and moved away to another grave. She sat with her legs curled beneath her and her shoulder on the headstone. Katie picked at the grass in front of her.

  Keith moved through the thinning throng of people toward his car, stopping to talk to Carol for a moment while she strapped Kyle into his car seat in the limo. He smiled at that. She obviously manufactured the scene about the car seat at Peter’s funeral to keep Kyle away from Peter’s family. Overall, it was a brilliant move.

  “Hi, Carol. How’s it going?”

  “As well as you can expect,” she drawled. She raised an eyebrow at him skeptically. “What’s with the getup?” Carol followed his gaze to Katie. “Men! Do you really think she wouldn’t know you?”

  Keith shrugged then looked back to Katie in concern. “Will she be all right?” he asked quietly.

  Carol nodded. “One of the guys will make sure she makes it home when she’s ready. Mac or Bruce, probably.”

  “How long will she stay there?”

  Carol shrugged. “Who knows? At Dad’s funeral, it was six hours, but that was Dad. For the first few years after he died, she’d come here for a few hours whenever she needed to. The first time Mac found her here, Mom was frantic by the time he did. She just took off in the middle of the night— Katie still comes here every time she’s in town.”

  “That’s your Dad’s grave?” he asked.

  “Yes. Hey, I have good news,” Carol changed the subject smoothly. “She’s considering staying this time.”

  “Staying?” he asked distractedly while he watched Katie lay her head on the marble of her father’s headstone.

  “In town, permanently. It’s not definite, but I thought you might like to know.”

  Keith smiled crookedly. “This is going to get interesting,” he mused.

  “What is?” she asked in confusion.

  “Evan wants me to take Kyle’s case—with your permission, of course.”

  “Thank God,” she breathed.

  “You don’t understand. This is highly unorthodox. If I do this, I’m not going in as a neutral party. I can’t.”

  “Who cares? He hates Dr. Carter. He likes you. If that’s what it takes, be as unorthodox as you please.”

  “He may not accept the change. This may not work,” he cautioned her. “Uncle Keith may not be allowed to become Dr. Randall.”

  “Then, don’t become Dr. Randall,” she answered simply. “How can you ease him into it? I want this to work.”

  “I’m going unorthodox. Let’s go all the way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want to meet with him several times a week, as often as he’ll allow. For the first few weeks, I want to do that at your place. Then, if it’s working, I’ll start meeting with him a few times a week at my office.”

  Carol’s eyes strayed to her sister and she smiled widely. “Perfect,” she decided.

  “Maybe. I have a feeling that Katie will be a much harder nut to crack than Kyle. Excuse the pun.”

  “Excused. So, I take it that means you haven’t given up all hope?” she teased.

  “I’d like to see if there’s anything to hope for. Then I’ll hope, if there’s anything there to hope for.”

  “It’s there,” she assured him.

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “Now, I know she hasn’t told you that,” he said pointedly.

  “She didn’t. Kyle did.”

  Keith groaned. “Kyle did,” he repeated sarcastically.

  “They each know what the other needs,” she reminded him.

  Keith swung his head to stare at Katie. Please God. I don’t ask for much. Let Kyle be right this time.

  * * *

  Katheryn rolled her forehead against the cool marble. “Oh, Dad. I’m really in it this time,” she whispered. “What the hell do I do now? I don’t even know what happened before. How can I do it again?”

  She glanced at Carol, standing next to the limo. There was a tall, broad-shouldered man standing with her. Katheryn looked at him curiously. With the hat he wore and the sunglasses, she could see little of him, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew him. Maybe, he was an old boyfriend of Carol’s.

  Katheryn smiled as Carol flirted with the man but stopped short of actively seeking out her sister’s thoughts. Good. Carol deserved some happiness. She hadn’t been happy wi
th Peter for years, ever since she got pregnant and he flaked. Katheryn sighed as she looked away. Why did Carol always have to make it look so easy?

  Who cares? It wasn’t like she had any hopes of finding someone who would put up with this, anyway. She closed her eyes. It had to end. They had to be free somehow, but she had already failed to be free of Ty twice.

  “What did I do, Dad? What mistakes did I make? How do I do this right?” Her voice cracked, and she bit back a sob as she ran her hand over the marble, imagining her father’s uniform coat beneath her fingers. “I wish you were here. You know much more than I do about Ty. Dammit, why didn’t you tell me everything? You were always so afraid to tell me what you saw, but I need to know. I need to know, and it’s too late to ask you or Uncle Michael.”

  She swallowed a sob as she felt Mac closing in on her. He’d be close enough to hear what she was saying soon. She always kept herself open up here. She told herself that she was protecting herself, making sure that no one could sneak up on her and overhear her insane ramblings to her dead father, but that was a lie.

  In all honesty, Katheryn knew she was hoping—or she was truly insane. She wanted to hear her father, to have him give her the answers she needed. If she was sensitive to Ty, Katheryn should be sensitive to any ghost, but she wasn’t. Where was the justice in that? She wasn’t sensitive to the one person who could give her peace, but she was sensitive to the madman who could torment her to the brink of insanity.

  Mac’s hand closed on her shoulder. “Getting any answers?” he asked.

  Katheryn froze. Her heartbeat turned erratic. “What?” she asked quietly.

  “Have you sorted out your feelings and troubles yet, or should I order a pizza out here?” he quipped.

  She laughed hysterically until she started crying. “Mac, what am I doing here? What good is it? The answers aren’t here.”

  He settled onto the grass beside her. “What answers do you need?” he asked seriously.

  Katheryn’s mind kicked into gear. She stopped crying suddenly and looked at Mac with wide eyes. “My file. I need to see my file, Mac.”

  He looked at her in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

  “My file. Ty’s file. It’s not an open case. I can see it, right?” she asked hopefully.

  “It’s a dead file. It’s over twenty-five years old. Do you know how long it will take me to find it?”

  “I don’t care. It’s my only hope.”

  “Your only hope of what?” he demanded.

  “It’s too late to ask Dad or Uncle Michael. I have to know what that file says, Mac. Can you do it?”

  “Why? Tell me why.”

  Her mind spun wildly. An excuse—anything but the truth. She looked at him seriously and decided on a half-truth. “The dreams. I need to know. I can’t live like this.”

  His brow furrowed in concern. “There are counselors. Even as old as this case is, I could pull some strings.”

  She shook her head furiously. “I don’t need a psychiatrist, Mac. I don’t know anything. What are we going to talk about? I need answers. With answers, maybe then a psychiatrist can do something,” she finished, knowing that was what Mac wanted to hear and having no intentions of actually doing it. It wasn’t quite a lie, she soothed herself.

  Mac raised an eyebrow and considered what she said carefully. “If I can find it,” he stressed. “If I can, will you talk to someone? Swear it to me.”

  Katheryn’s mouth went dry. She’d never lied to Mac. She avoided questions, but she’d never lied to him. There was a first time for everything, she decided. “If the answers I need are in that file, I’ll go. I promise.”

  “What if they’re not?” he prodded.

  “If they’re not, no one can help me,” she replied quietly. “The answers are what I need. Once I have them, everything else will fall into place. Please do this for me.”

  “All right. I’ll try,” he decided.

  She threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Mac,” she breathed.

  His hands wrapped around her uncertainly. “It’s okay, Katheryn. Now, let’s get some food in you. I’ll wager that you haven’t eaten all day.”

  Katheryn laughed and bit back a sob reflexively. “You bugging my kitchen now?” she joked.

  “No, but don’t ask me what I do know. You’ll just get mad.”

  “I know you’re still keeping tabs on me. By now, I know the signs.”

  * * *

  Mac stared at the file for what seemed like the hundredth time in the two and a half days since he tracked it down. It wasn’t in the general files where it should have been. That stopped him cold for an entire day and a half, until Bruce jogged his memory.

  “What’s on your mind, Mac?” he asked. “You’ve been moping around for two days.”

  “I’m trying to figure something out.”

  “Hit me. I’ve been told I’m fairly smart.”

  “I believe I said ‘smart ass’ actually,” he joked weakly.

  “Hit me with it anyway,” Bruce invited.

  “I’m looking for a file. I’ve searched five years, target plus two on either side. It’s just gone, Bruce.”

  “The old Matthews’ file,” he guessed.

  “Yeah,” Mac admitted morosely.

  “Try 1985,” Bruce suggested.

  Mac furrowed his brow. “Why the hell would it be there?” he asked in confusion.

  Bruce shook his head and smiled crookedly. “How’d you ever make sergeant? You have no memory cells. When O’Hanlon died, his files got shifted to Prentice to redistribute.”

  “Yeah? So?”

  “Don’t you remember Prentice bitching about how many deads were still in the file drawer? If I was taking bets on a single file I’d find in that drawer, that would be the one.”

  “And he might not have filed them in the correct years. They were deads anyway. Who would look for them?” Mac rationalized. “Damn Prentice for that lapse,” he cursed.

  “Want my help?” Bruce offered.

  “No. If it’s there, I’ll find it quickly. Prentice may be weak on years, but he’ll have put it in the right box in 1985.” He started away toward the dead records warehouse.

  Bruce matched him. “What are you looking for? What’s in that file, Mac?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just a gut feeling,” he lied.

  Now, almost three days later, he was still missing something. He just had no idea what. Due to the particulars of the case, O’Hanlon and Phillips had each given their statements separately. Ty and Katheryn weren’t capable of telling the IA guys anything. The short, concise IA investigation results bore up their decisions. With two officers on the scene telling the same story, the case was closed without a backward glance.

  Finally, he came to Katheryn’s medical work-up, photographs, and news clippings that O’Hanlon obviously tucked into the file. This was the most heartbreaking part, the shattered little girl. He was about to slam the file shut when one of the medical photos caught his eye. There was a long, red welt on the back of her shoulder—he thought. He flipped to the written exam sheets and smiled triumphantly. It was there. It was a raised, red welt like the ones on the current victims.

  But, what did it mean? Did Ty have a partner? If he did, Evelyn was unaware of it. She claimed only Katheryn and Ty left the house. Katheryn could never tell anyone what happened. It couldn’t be a simple coincidence. The fact that Mac didn’t believe in coincidence aside, his gut instincts told him there was much more to it. He sighed and closed the file. It was time to go see Katheryn.

  * * *

  Katheryn opened the door and shot a warning glance at Mac when he tried to suppress a smile at her outfit. Her sweatpants, oversized T-shirt and ballcap pulled backward may look funny, but they were perfect for sorting and cleaning the house. Her list of painting and repairs was growing as she uncovered more and more of it.

  “You can come in if you can keep the comments to yourself,” she invited.

>   Mac stepped around her and stifled a chuckle. “No comments,” he assured her.

  She followed him to the kitchen table.

  “Got a beer I can bum?” he asked.

  “Um. No, sorry, but Mom has a bottle of rum and I have Coke for a mixer if you’re interested,” she offered.

  “Sure. One won’t kill me.” He set his briefcase on the table and stripped off his suit coat as she mixed his drink in a tall glass.

  Katheryn set it in front of him and snagged a glass of iced tea for herself. She sat across from him. “So, why the visit? What’s up?” she asked.

  Mac opened his briefcase and pushed a thick file to her. “I found it, but I can’t leave it with you. I have to take it back with me tomorrow.”

  She hesitated, her heart pounding.

  “Go on. You want to see it, right?”

  Katheryn slid it the rest of the way to herself. “Yes,” she assured him quietly. “Yes, I do.”

  She flipped open the file and started reading. At times, Katheryn took a break and considered it while she drank her tea. She had more information but not the information, not what she needed to pull it all together. When she finally shut the file, her stomach was tied in knots from what the file said—and what it didn’t.

  “Verdict is?” Mac asked calmly.

  She shook her head. “It’s not in there,” she decided.

  “What’s not there?”

  “It doesn’t mesh,” she answered distractedly.

  “What doesn’t?” His eyes widened. “You remember something. You finally remember something.”

  “Just flashes, but obviously they’re flashes of before Dad and Uncle Michael got there. This doesn’t help. Thanks anyway, Mac.”

  “What do you remember?”

  “I remember him trying to find me. The rocks were so cold—and a bright light that hurt to look at.”

  “You mean in the ambulance,” Mac decided. “Your Dad told me about that.”

  “No, I don’t. The light in the ambulance must have hurt because of the first light. I remember it clearly, better than anything else,” she muttered.