A Reason to Believe (40 page)

Matt cautiously peered around the edge of the

doorframe. Just as he’d thought, Karen was

standing near the darkened fireplace, Preston in

front of her. He wasn’t holding her, which was

good. The gun in his right hand gleamed darkly, but

it wasn’t pointed at Karen, it was pointed at the

floor, as if he’d forgotten he held it.

“Garrett,” Karen said, “we’ve had this

conversation before. I’m married to Marc…”

“Marc,” Preston spat. “The fucking golden boy.

He took everything I ever cared about. He took the

firm, my fucking law firm…”

“Wait,” Karen interrupted. “You went to work

for the government, even talked about running for

DA.”

“Running, Karen, is not necessarily being

elected,” Preston retorted, clearly having forgotten

Matt and Kiernan were in the house. Matt took a

silent step out from behind the door frame, his aim

fixed on the back of Preston’s head. He sensed

when Kiernan followed.

“Patrick’s firm was supposed to be mine. It was

always supposed to be mine. And he should have

held on to it until I was ready to take the reins.”

Preston ran his hand through his hair in agitation.

“He only sold it to make me look bad,” he

muttered under his breath, shifting restlessly.

“Marc only bought it to make me look bad. They

hate me, both of them.”

Karen moved toward him, her hand raised in

consolation. “Oh, Garrett,” she said softly. “You

know that isn’t true. Marc was your best friend,

Patrick loves you…”

“No!” Preston shouted, reaching out and

slapping her hand away. The sound cracked loudly

in the silent house and she pulled it to her chest,

clearly startled. “No, he doesn’t love me. He loves

my mother, he loves Marc, he loves
you.
He even

loved…” He lurched forward, as if he had to

physically catch the words he had been about to

blurt and haul them back. He took a shuddering

breath. “And Marc was never my best friend. A

best friend wouldn’t move in and steal the girl you

love!”

Karen’s expression, even in the gloom, was

clearly full of compassion. “Garrett, you know he

didn’t do that. We fell in love. It wasn’t something

planned. And you know I would never do anything

to intentionally hurt you.”

“It wasn’t you, Karen,” he said. “It was him. He

tricked you, lied to you. He may have even

drugged you! I know you would never have left me

otherwise. It had to be a trick.”

It seemed to dawn on Karen just how seriously

disturbed Preston was. She pulled back, her hand

reaching behind her to grip the heavy wooden

mantel.

Matt steadied his gun. He knew she could see

him, but she didn’t acknowledge his presence.

Smart girl.
He crept closer. If he could get close

enough to press his weapon into Preston’s back, he

could disarm him and no one would get hurt.
Keep

talking to him,
he mentally urged Karen, moving

stealthily forward on silent feet.
Keep his

attention.

“I…don’t know,” she said carefully. “I only

know that I…thought I fell in love with him.”

“But you see, you aren’t sure! And you loved

me, I know you did.”

“I did,” she agreed.

“I knew it!” he said exultantly. “So you see now,

don’t you? You see I had to do whatever it took to

make sure we could be together.”

She stared at him. Her knuckles whitened on the

mantel ledge. “I…what exactly did you do,

Garrett?”

“I…just…I, uh…” He was trembling visibly. “I

simply…cleared the way a bit. That’s all.”

“Cleared the way…?” Horror dawned across

Karen’s pretty features. “Abby,” she whispered.

“My baby? Please, Garrett. Please tell me it

wasn’t you who hurt my baby.”

Preston reached out in supplication. “
His
baby,

Karen. Marc’s. When it should have been mine.

Don’t you see? You’re still young enough to have a

dozen children if you want, children we could love

and raise together. That one was just…an

encumbrance. And this was perfect, because I

could…dispose of that one, and he would be

blamed. Then we can be together. You see? It’s

perfect.”

She was unable to keep the disgust from her

face. “It’s sick. You’re sick.”

Preston’s body stiffened. Matt ventured another

step closer. Kiernan moved in tandem.

“Don’t say that to me,” Preston growled. “Don’t

you ever say that to me.”

“But it’s true!” Karen cried. “My God, you

murdered my daughter. You bastard!”

She moved so quickly Matt was as shocked as

Preston when she picked up a heavy brass

candlestick off of the mantel and raised it over her

head. Preston lurched back. Matt was now just feet

away.

“How could you?” she snarled, her face

transformed by fury. “How could you murder my

little girl?”

“She was in the way,” Preston said, sounding

desperate. “Put that down, Karen. You don’t really

want to hit me with it.”

“Hit you with it?” she cried, her voice vibrating

with rage. “I want to bludgeon you to death with it!

You sick, twisted son of a bitch!”

Apparently forgetting everything in her fury,

forgetting Matt was nearby and Kiernan just behind

him, she rushed Preston and swung the candlestick

with everything in her, aiming for his head. But he

had a good six inches and at least eighty pounds on

her, and he caught it easily in his hand, twisting it

from her grip. She cried out, launching herself at

him, fingers curled like claws.

Preston’s gun hand lifted.

“Drop it!” Matt shouted, his weapon extended,

his finger on the trigger.

His gun was leveled at Preston, prepared to

shoot him if necessary, but Preston moved fluidly,

grabbing Karen around the neck and yanking her in

front of him, effectively blocking Matt’s shot.

Preston lifted his hand and Matt saw fire fill the

pistol’s barrel and heard the gun’s blast. With cold

resignation, he knew he didn’t have time to get out

of the way.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, and everything

became very vivid—the muted colors in the

Oriental carpet, the dark burgundy velvet of the

couch, the maniacal hatred on Preston’s face. Matt

had the fleeting thought he was about to die.

“No!”

A blur of motion entered from Matt’s left,

knocking his gun arm aside, pushing him hard.

Caught off guard, Matt crashed to the floor, his

hand slamming into the wood. His weapon flew

out of his grip, sliding under the sofa. Kiernan was

clutching the front of Matt’s sweatshirt, lying on

the floor in front of him.

Matt realized with a startled dawning that

Kiernan had just saved his life. He grabbed him by

his jacket lapels and yanked him behind the couch

and looked down into his face.

“I told you to stay behind me.”

Kiernan smiled faintly. “I’ve never been much

good at following directions.”

They both pressed their backs against the large

piece of furniture, heads tucked down as a bullet

ricocheted wildly over their heads.

“I’ll kill you!” Preston shouted. “You had no

right to interfere! I’ll kill you both!”

Matt leaned down to peer under the sofa. His

gun had landed just to his left and he reached out to

grasp it.

Something lifted through the floor near the fallen

gun, something that caused the hair on the back of

his neck to lift. A thrill of fear shot through him

and he jerked back with a gasp. A bluish ball of

light the size of a tennis ball had paused to hover

right in front of him under the sofa. It slid away

from him and a startled cry sounded from the other

side of the room.

Spellbound, he looked over the arched back of

the couch. The glowing orb had stopped about two

feet in front of Preston and Karen and was

hovering in the air at eye level, pulsating faintly.

Their expressions were clearly illuminated in the

glow it provided. Silvery tracks of tears etched

Karen’s pale face, and the wide-eyed fear on

Preston’s was unmistakable.

The ball changed shape, expanding, lengthening.

It grew legs and arms and a torso, and sprouted a

head covered in long blond curls. A frilly dress

completed the vision, and small hands clutched a

toy unicorn with a rainbow-striped horn.

Hovering about a foot above the floor was a

translucent full-bodied apparition of Abigail

Reynolds.

Matt spared a quick glance at Kiernan, who was

watching, his eyes wide and his breath shallow.

“Abby?” Karen gasped in wonder. “Oh my God,

Abby!”

Preston released Karen and took a step back,

horror stamped on his features.

“You’re a bad man,” the vision said, its voice

light but unmistakable. “A very, very bad man.”

“You…aren’t real,” Preston muttered. “You

aren’t. You can’t be.”

“A very bad man,” Abby’s ghost repeated

solemnly, gliding toward him. “Who did a very

bad thing.”

Preston tried to creep away, but his legs were

unsteady. “Leave me alone,” he said desperately,

his back now pressed to the wall. “Just…leave me

alone.”

The ghost shook her head slowly. “People who

do bad things should be punished.”

Preston dropped his gun and lifted his hands to

hold her off. “You aren’t real. You aren’t real, you

aren’t real.”

“ I
am
real,” the child said firmly. “And you

shall be punished.”

Matt saw his chance and darted out from behind

the sofa and grabbed the fallen weapon. But then

he backed away, his eyes drawn by a shifting

motion in the fireplace.

Ashes stirred and shifted, then rose, caught up in

a small, slow whirlwind. The ghost’s curls stirred

in the breeze, and Karen’s blond hair lifted around

her transfixed expression. Preston scrabbled at the

wall at his back, but there was nowhere for him to

go. The ash thickened and formed into a miniature

dark funnel cloud, and it began to swirl faster and

faster. It moved toward Preston, who tried to back

away, his face a mask of unmitigated horror.

“No,” he whimpered, tears filling his eyes.

“Please, just…stop. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

“Too late,” the ghostly voice intoned, almost

sadly. “Too late.”

The funnel of ash collapsed to the floor but

didn’t dissipate. Still whirling madly, it lifted

again, rising to encompass Preston’s feet, his shins

and then his knees. He screamed and batted at it,

trying to move, but he had backed himself into the

corner and had nowhere to go. Whipping faster,

thickening with even more ash and small bits of

charred wood, the small tornado swallowed

Preston whole, rising above his head, a charcoal

gray shroud.

Preston’s screams rose in volume from inside it,

even more desperate, more insane. It continued

until Preston grew hoarse and was sobbing

brokenly, so long Matt was sure he’d never get the

sound out of his head. Then, as abruptly as it

started, the sounds stopped, the funnel cloud

dissipated, and the ash fell with a soft rush to the

floor.

Matt almost expected him to be gone, but

Preston was there, collapsed in the corner, his

arms wrapped around his knees. His eyes were

wide, and his mouth was open, lips hanging slack.

He stared vacantly, rocking, and Matt had never

seen anyone who looked so completely mad.

“Abby?” Karen was staring at the apparition of

her daughter, tears spilling down her pale cheeks.

“Oh, Abby. My baby.” She took a step forward,

her hand stretched out. “Are you…it is you, isn’t

it?”

The child nodded, a soft smile dimpling her

face. “I love you, Mommy. I’ll always love you.”

She started to fade, and Karen made a tortured

sound.

“Don’t go!”

“I love you…”

As the final word faded away, so did the vision.

The light that had surrounded her was snuffed out,

plunging the room once again into darkness. Karen

collapsed heavily into a chair next to the fireplace,

her hands over her face as she sobbed. Matt turned