Cavanaugh on Duty

chapter 15



The sound crept into her consciousness slowly, growing identifiable by degrees.

Initially, all Kari was aware of was the passion that was burning yet another fiery path through her, just as deep, just as intense, as the first one. All she wanted, all she could focus on, was attaining that incredible, ultimate high that they had generated together earlier. The pursuit of that caused her to block out everything else in her surroundings.

Which was why the sound of the cell phones, each with its own unique ring, didn’t register with her at first. Outside noises, a passing car racing by the complex, all these were distractions she was actively keeping at arm’s length.

All she wanted was to keep making glorious, teeth-jarring love with Esteban.

But the ringing continued, insistent, demanding, scratching its way through the barriers she’d set up. By the fourth time around, Kari recognized it for what it was. Reality, knocking the foundations out from underneath paradise.

With a sigh, she lifted her head, drawing her lips away from his, and looked into Esteban’s blue eyes. She saw regret there, mingling with resignation. It mirrored her own.

“It’s not my imagination, is it?” she asked with a sigh. “You hear it, too.”

Shifting her body to the side so that it no longer covered his, Esteban raised himself up on his elbow and glanced at the floor from his vantage point. He didn’t see his cell phone.

“Sounds like our phones are ringing,” he confirmed, although, for the life of him, he didn’t know where either device was currently located.

Just loud enough to be heard, both ringtones sounded too faint to be in the same room with them.

Having no choice, Esteban got up. Kari shifted and turned so that she was facing the bedroom doorway and watched the man who had just made incredible love to her leave the room. She knew he was going to look for the cell phones. Despite the possible gravity of the situation—she could only think of one reason why both phones were ringing at the same time—she couldn’t help allowing her mind to wander for a moment, lost in utter admiration.

Any way you looked at it, the man had an absolutely gorgeous body.

“Mine’s in my purse,” she called out, remaining where she was. “By the front door.”

Her purse had been the first thing she’d dropped the second she was inside his apartment. Any remaining barriers had been completely incinerated at that moment.

Within a few seconds, Esteban was walking back into the room, just as magnificently uninhibited as when he had gone out.

He held her purse with its ringing phone out to her even as he was answering his own.

“Fernandez,” he said, then listened to the voice on the other end of the persistent call.

Sitting up on the bed, Kari had taken her own phone out and announced to her caller, “Cavelli-Cavanaugh.” The moment she finished saying her full name, the voice on the other end of her phone began talking. “Okay...be right there,” she promised.

She ended her call at the same time that Esteban finished his. She could tell by his expression that the calls had been identical, apprising them that a fourth body had been found.

So much for hopes that the serial killer was finished.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Talk about bad timing.”

“You talking about us or the call?” Esteban asked her, wondering if she was having regrets about hooking up with him. He was willing to take the blame if she was, even though he hadn’t pressed it. But he was the scoundrel and she was the princess in this setting, so the blame naturally fell to him.

Kari thought of being facetious and saying, “Both,” but then decided, for once in her life, to play it straight. To stop constructing protective walls around the most vulnerable part of her heart. So she told him the truth. That she was sorry they’d been interrupted. “I was talking about just the call.”

He looked at her for a second, and she thought he was going to say something. But if he was, he apparently changed his mind. Instead of talking, he caught her by her shoulders again and kissed her.

The contact was fast and hard, and maybe she was wrong, but she could have sworn there was a promise there. A promise that tonight wasn’t isolated. That there would be another time for them.

Just not now.

Collecting herself, she squared her shoulders and declared, “Okay, let’s get to it. We’ve got a body waiting for us.”

He rolled his eyes at her as he threw on a pair of jeans and put on another pullover. “I don’t think it’s going anyplace.”

Question is, she thought as she slipped her dress back on, are we?

* * *

“Wow, you really didn’t have to dress up for me,” the M.E. said, whistling when he looked up and saw Kari heading toward him. He was in the latest victim’s living room, examining a body that was still faintly warm.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t,” she said. “My father got married today,” she told him, then amended, “I mean yesterday.”

“Right, sorry I missed that,” the medical examiner said. “But someone had to stay on duty and hold down the fort.” His gaze swept over her slowly, scrutinizing her outfit. “Looks like it must have been some party,” he surmised.

Something stirred within Esteban, a protective instinct that rose to the surface in light of the look of discomfort on Kari’s face.

“Never mind that,” he snapped. “What can you tell us about the body?”

The M.E. looked surprised to hear Kari’s partner say anything at all. “He’s dead.”

“Besides the obvious,” Kari pressed impatiently.

“That Hal Rockwell was a damn fine judge,” a deep, solemn voice said behind her.

Kari turned around to see who was talking. The voice had sounded familiar, but she’d dismissed her first impression because she knew she had to be mistaken.

Except that she wasn’t.

“Blake?” she asked uncertainly, looking at the tall, dark-haired man walking toward her. Blake Kincannon was a judge, one of the two who had married into the Cavanaugh family. Blake was married to Greer, another one of the Chief of D’s nieces. As far as major crimes went, this one had just taken a quantum leap.

The next moment, she saw Greer coming to join her husband. Dressed in jeans and a light blue windbreaker, the detective filled them in on what she’d learned from talking to the victim’s live-in housekeeper, Amanda Foster. Returning from visiting her sister, it was Amanda who had discovered the judge’s body and called the police.

Greer and Blake had attended the wedding earlier, although the couple had left before she and Esteban had. Kari nodded at them now, and if the woman noticed that she was still wearing her dress from the reception, Greer tactfully gave no indication of it.

“A few dozen more Cavanaughs and we can recreate Uncle Sean’s wedding,” Greer commented dryly.

“No disrespect intended, but what are you doing here?” Kari asked the couple. “Does the Chief think we need reinforcements?” If so, she could understand why Greer was here, but why send the judge, as well?

“After the housekeeper found him, she was so panic-stricken that she called Blake before she even called the police,” Greer told her.

“Hal and I are old friends,” Blake explained, picking up the narrative. There was a heaviness in his voice that was impossible to miss. “When I first sat on the bench, Hal was my mentor. He went out of his way to take me under his wing, teach me everything he knew. This shouldn’t have happened to him,” he said angrily, looking back at the body.

“Could this have been the work of someone he sent to prison?” Kari asked.

“There’s always that chance,” Blake admitted.

Suddenly, he locked eyes with Greer and they exchanged knowing looks. Although the couple was blissfully happy now, their romance had gotten off to a perilous start. Kari recalled how it was a death threat that had brought Greer into Blake’s life in the first place. Fortunately, all that ugly business was behind them now.

Blake cleared his throat and then continued. “In our profession, we all live with the possibility of vengeance, but I can tell you that Hal Rockwell was the most honest, the most decent judge I ever had the pleasure to work with. Once they’d served their time and got out, he helped a lot of the folks he’d sentenced to prison find work and rebuild their lives, as long as they demonstrated a willingness to turn over a new leaf.”

A selfless person. Just like the first two victims, Kari thought, although not the third. None of this was making any sense. Could they have all been living secret lives, part of some secret society that ultimately led to their deaths? Instead of answers, she was grappling with more and more questions.

“Would you mind if we came by tomorrow to ask you a few more things about the judge? You know, pick your brain after you’ve had some time to get a good night’s sleep?” she suggested to Greer and her husband.

“I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep tonight,” Blake speculated.

Greer slipped her hand into his, silently offering Blake her support. “Let’s go home, Blake,” she urged. “We won’t be much help and we’ll only get in the way right now.” Very gently, she guided the judge away from the crime scene. But before she left, she made eye contact with Esteban. “Get this bastard,” she mouthed.

Saying nothing, Esteban acknowledged her request with a nod.

It was enough.

* * *

Despite the fact that she was still wearing the silver cocktail dress, Kari decided to go straight to the squad room with Esteban rather than making a pit-stop at home to change into something more functional. The hope that this latest victim would somehow cause the dominoes to finally fall into place outweighed her need to throw on something that was a bit more comfortable than the slinky evening dress.

Kari pinned the latest victim’s photograph next to the others and started a fourth column listing what they knew so far.

“Maybe once we get a chance to talk to Blake, we’ll find that common denominator we’re looking for,” she said to Esteban.

“What if there isn’t one?” he countered. “What if our serial killer is just some certifiable crazy who slashes people’s throats whenever the mood strikes or he perceives some slight—real or imaginary?”

She refused to even consider that possibility right now.

“No, there’s got to be something, some trigger, something about these people rather than all the other individuals he comes across in his day-to-day life that turns him into a homicidal maniac. At the very least, there has to be some common place where their paths cross.” Kari stared at the board. There wasn’t nearly enough information under each victim for them to work with. “It’s going to drive me crazy until I figure it out,” she said, more to herself than to him.

Kari sank down in front of her computer, pulling up the files she’d compiled on the first three victims, and tried to see if there was any sort of overlap, any common links between any of them and the judge.

Completely immersed in her search, she wasn’t aware that Esteban had stepped away from his desk until she swung back around to answer the phone on her desk.

Where had he gotten to? she wondered as she said into the phone receiver, “Cavelli-Cavanaugh.”

“Put your traveling shoes on, Hyphen,” the lieutenant’s deep voice rumbled into her ear. “There’s been another one.”

“You’re kidding,” she cried in disbelief. Nothing for almost a week and a half, and now two in one day? What was it that drove this killer?

“I never kid before dawn, Hyphen,” he told her sardonically, then rattled off the address he’d just received. “Oh, and before you start complaining about being overworked, I’m filling out the paperwork to get you and Fernandez a task force to help you with this case. Just because you’ve got two names doesn’t mean I expect you to do twice as much work. You got any problem working with Donnelly and Choi?” he asked, naming two detectives attached to another section of the department.

“Donnelly and Choi will be fine,” she told him, then asked with a glimmer of humor, “Haven’t you heard? I’m easygoing.”

“Yeah, right.” He laughed shortly. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “And the sun rises in the west. Get yourself over to the crime scene, Hyphen.”

The line went dead. The lieutenant wasn’t much for hellos or goodbyes.

Kari sighed, hanging up just as she saw Esteban walking back into the squad room. He was carrying a covered coffee container in each hand.

“Thought you might need this,” he explained, setting one cup down in front of her on her desk.

Kari rose to her feet and picked up the container. “Don’t take the lid off,” she told him as he was about to sit down and get comfortable. “We just got a call that there’s been another murder.”

He stared at her for a moment as if she’d lapsed into another language. “You’re kidding.”

“Same thing I said,” she told him, grabbing her purse. “Unfortunately, the lieutenant was serious.”

Esteban put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her before she could stride out of the squad room. “You look beat. Want me to drive?” he asked.

“Coffee, chauffeuring. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were being nice to me. I’m not dying, am I?”

“Not that I know of,” he deadpanned.

She took a breath, forcing herself to deal seriously with what she took to be the situation. “Look, I just want you to know I don’t expect any special treatment just because—well, just because,” she concluded. They were alone, but the squad room was no place to talk about this in any kind of detail.

“Duly noted,” he told her. “But for the record, you do look beat. The offer still stands,” he said. “Want me to drive?”

She liked being in control, had fought for it for half her life. But sometimes it was nice to have someone else take over and carry the load. Maybe this was one of those times.

“I won’t say no,” she said.

“First time for everything,” Esteban commented. His expression gave no indication that he was pleased. He put his hand out for the keys.

After a beat, Kari surrendered them.

* * *

“You were right, you know,” Esteban stated quietly several miles into their trip to investigate the latest crime scene.

“Of course I was,” she said with feeling. When he gave no indication that he was going to clarify what he meant, she was forced to ask, “About what this time?”

He carefully picked his way through what he considered a minefield. Each word brought with it a memory, memories he didn’t feel equipped to deal with. “About knowing me from high school. I did go to the same school you did, and I was the football quarterback.”

Kari reminded herself that she wasn’t supposed to know any of his backstory between the end of high school and the moment he’d walked into the squad room. It wasn’t easy. But keeping that in mind, she asked the first logical question that would have occurred to her under those circumstances.

“Why did you lie about it?”

He looked straight ahead at the road, his expression stony. “Because I buried all that a long time ago.”

She told herself to leave it alone, but would he have expected her to? She ventured forward cautiously, testing the waters as she went.

“Mind if I ask why?”

“Because everyone I cared about was alive back then, and if I think about that, then I have to think about their deaths and the pain hits me all over again,” he said fiercely, struggling with his emotions. “I can’t go through that. It’s better just to leave everything buried.”

She knew he wasn’t asking her for advice, but she gave it anyway—because she could see he was in pain and she wanted to help.

“Those people you loved, they wouldn’t want to see you like this,” she said gently, trying to appeal to his sense of logic. “They’d want to see you try to be happy.”

Happy was not a sensation he was well acquainted with, not anymore. Happy had been another state of mind, locked away in his youth. The very best he could hope for, he thought, was not to be too miserable.

And nothing Kari with her hyphenated names could say was going to change that.

“Leave it alone, Kari,” he ordered gruffly.

About to continue with her argument, she stopped when it suddenly occurred to her. “You realize that was the first time you called me by my first name?”

He snorted. Leave it to her to pick up on just that. “Won’t happen again,” he promised shortly.

Kari sighed. “You are a hard nut to crack, Esteban,” she told him.

He liked it better when she called him by his last name. It made it less personal somehow. “I wouldn’t try if I were you,” he warned.

There was nothing to be gained for her. He wasn’t about to shed his frog skin and become a prince for her if she said just the right words.

She smiled at him. It was that wicked smile that got under his skin. Now that he’d made love with her, he was even less immune to it than before.

“But you’re not me,” she told him. “Maybe once this investigation is over,” Kari suggested, “we should give walking a mile in each other’s shoes a try. Who knows...it might go a long way toward building a strong partnership.”

Not to mention other things, she added silently.

He glanced down at the silver-heeled sandals she was wearing. “As long as the shoes I have to walk in aren’t those damn high heels you have on.”

She pretended to scrutinize them, then looked over toward his feet. “Oh, I don’t know, from what I saw, you have pretty decent legs. You might even look cute in them.”

“Let it go, Hyphen,” he gritted out.

Too late, she thought. But rather than continue exchanging witty banter, all she did in response was smile at him.

He found that even more unsettling than her banter.