The Littlest Witness. Amanda Stevens

stared at John for a long moment, then said softly, in a voice traced with an Irish accent, “You’re sure about this, Johnny?”

      Sure about what? That Gail Waters had called him or that she’d been murdered? “The only thing I’m sure of is that she called me and now she’s dead.”

      Liam sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “Okay. You did the right thing bringing this to me. I’ll handle it from here.”

      John didn’t like the edge in his uncle’s voice. “What are you going to do?”

      Liam shrugged. “Follow procedure. There’s nothing in these reports that warrant a follow-up investigation.”

      “I disagree.”

      “Let it go, Johnny.” There was a warning note in his uncle’s voice.

      “I don’t know if I can do that.”

      In a sudden burst of temper Liam picked up the file and flung it at John. The contents spilled over his desk. “That wasn’t a request, goddamn it, that was an order.” His blue eyes glittering with fire, he folded his arms on his desk and leaned toward John. “You’ve always been a good cop, Johnny, and one helluva detective, but sometimes you remind me too much of Sean. You don’t know when to let go. You gotta think about this one, son. You gotta think what it would do to the family if you started asking the wrong questions. Think about your brother. Ashley’s murder nearly did Tony in back then. Look what it’s done to his life. I’ve had to appear before more review boards on his behalf than I care to remember. The kid’s always been hanging on by a thread. What do you think would happen to him if he had to relive all that?”