Morgan rose from his chair just as his new cousin-in-law reached his desk. A dozen questions went through his head, none of which he felt were his place to ask. But still, maybe he could. After all, she had sought him out, he reasoned. He wasn’t the one who had come to her.
“I take it you’re Morgan Cavanaugh,” the woman said to him just as she reached his desk.
Morgan gave her a bemused look. Granted, she had met a great many Cavanaughs on her wedding day, even more than she had initially met at Uncle Andrew’s party on that first occasion. He knew that kind of thing could be very confusing for some people, what with trying to keep all those names straight, not to mention remembering who was married to whom. There was a time when he had gotten confused himself and he was family, although, at the time, that had been a huge revelation, finding himself related to such a huge family.
He smiled at the shapely blonde. “We met at Uncle Andrew’s party,” he reminded her.
She surprised him by firmly shaking her head and denying his assumption. “No, we didn’t,” she told him.
Morgan opened his mouth, about to tell her that she was the one who was making the mistake, but then he closed it again. He wasn’t about to argue with her and get off on the wrong foot with this newest family member, so he just let her statement go.
Instead, he decided to try another approach. “Where’s Finn?”
“Still with my sister would be my guess,” Krys answered.
“Your sister,” Morgan repeated, feeling as if he had suddenly, without any warning, somehow slipped into an alternate universe.
As far as he knew, from what Finn had told him, his new Mrs. had no family. Certainly none had come to the wedding. Having a family was part of the appeal of marrying into the Cavanaughs. They had family members to spare coming out of the woodwork in all directions, he thought with a smile.
“Yes,” Krys said slowly, wondering if she had ultimately made a mistake by coming here. “My sister,” she repeated.
But someone had taken a shot at her and that was a police matter, although, after that one attempt, there hadn’t been any further ones made on her life.
Maybe she was overreacting, Krys thought. She usually had nerves of steel, but this had really rattled her rather badly. But rattled or not, she was used to doing things on her own. Maybe she could trace this back to the source instead of asking for help. Still, if she were being honest, she had to admit that this attempt on her life had made her feel rather vulnerable.
What had prompted her to come here, seeking Morgan’s help, was that Nik had mentioned Morgan to her by name during one of their lengthy phone conversations just before the wedding. The fact that he was a detective assigned to the Major Crimes Division was a plus, and it was what had made her think that Morgan might be the right one to get a handle on this.
* * *
“Are you saying that my cousin is cheating on you?” Morgan asked her, stunned. In his opinion, Finn was as straight an arrow as had ever walked the earth. His cousin was totally incapable of cheating. Morgan would have bet his life on that.
“On me?” Krys questioned, confused. “Why would he be cheating on me?” And then it suddenly hit her. She realized what Morgan had to be thinking. She had gotten so caught up in this thing that was happening to her, she had completely forgotten that other than an inch difference in height—she being the shorter one—she and Nik were totally identical.
“Oh, wait,” Krys cried. “I need to explain something to you first.”
Morgan could see Fredericks out of the corner of his eye. His partner was totally hanging on every single word that was being said, clearly fascinated with his cousin’s wife.
“Go ahead,” Morgan urged, crossing his arms before his hard, rather well-sculpted chest and waiting to hear what this extremely attractive, squirrelly woman had come here to tell him—especially since she was insisting that she and he hadn’t met yet—which they definitely had.
“I’m Nik’s twin sister,” she told Morgan, hoping that would settle the matter.
It didn’t.
He stared at her. “You’re her twin sister.”
This was the first he had heard of a sister, much less a twin sister, and he was willing to bet that he wasn’t the only one in the family who had never heard about Nik’s so-called twin.
Morgan found himself feeling sorry for his cousin. Finn had obviously married a beautiful but slightly delusional woman—or worse. He recalled that Finn had said something about his wife being an insurance investigator. Maybe she fancied herself a CIA agent or something along those lines.
Well, whatever the case, Morgan was willing to step up and help his cousin get help for his new wife any way he could.
“Yes,” Krys confirmed patiently. She could see that he wasn’t convinced. She reached into her back pocket and took out her wallet. Flipping it open to her driver’s license, she held it up in front of the detective for his perusal. “Her twin sister. Krystyna Kowalski,” she introduced herself. “We were born five minutes apart. I’m older,” she added, anticipating his next question.
“Why weren’t you at your sister’s wedding?” he asked. “Or can’t the two of you be in the same place at the same time?”
Very funny, she thought sarcastically.
Instead of answering Morgan’s question, she opened her wallet again and looked through the different compartments. Finding what she was searching for, Krys took it out and held the photograph up to him now.
It was a picture of the two of them, Nik and herself, taken almost twenty years ago.
“See, we can be in the same place at the same time,” she told him with a deliberately cheerful expression. “The problem is that we haven’t had the occasion to be in the same place at the same time these last few years. Nik works for an insurance company while I do freelance work as an investigative journalist. My work takes me out of the state on a regular basis.” Her point made, she did smile at him this time. “Different but the same,” she told him. Krys’s eyes met his. “So, do you need any further proof?”
“No, this’ll do it for me,” he told her. Morgan paused for a second, thinking, then went on to say, “I do have one more question for you.”
Krys braced herself. This was for Nik, she told herself. That was also the reason she had sought Morgan out, looking for help. Because of Nik. Because what had happened to her made her afraid that whoever had done this might go after Nik by mistake.
“Go ahead,” she told him patiently. “What is it you want to ask?”
“Why weren’t you at your sister’s wedding?” After a beat, Morgan added, “I’m just curious since according to you, the two of you are so close.”
“It’s not according to me,” Krys corrected, taking offense at his implication. “It’s a fact. And although it isn’t really any of your business, I wasn’t at the wedding because I was sitting at a sick friend’s bedside.”
Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Your significant other?”
“No,” she told him almost grudgingly. “My mentor.” Before Morgan could ask, she volunteered the information. “He had no family of his own and I didn’t want him to have to die alone.”
Morgan found himself slightly embarrassed and applauding her sentiment. “Oh.”
Krys eyed him, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Any more questions?”
“No, not right now,” he replied in a voice that was totally free of any emotion. The truth of it was, he felt like an idiot for having barged into where he had no place being.
Taking in a deep breath, Morgan decided to start over. “So tell me, what brings you here—specifically to Major Crimes as well as to me?”
“I came to you,” she told him, “because I thought you might be able to help me.”
He felt as if he was inching his way across a thin layer of quicksand, about to sink in and go under
at any second. “Help you do what?”
“Help me find whoever it is who’s trying to kill me and why,” she told him without any fanfare.
Morgan stared at her. It took a second for her words to sink in.
There was nothing run-of-the-mill about this woman, he couldn’t help thinking. “Maybe you better start from the beginning,” he suggested.
“Maybe I should,” Krys agreed. Aware that the man who had brought her in here was still hovering around, straining to overhear what she was saying to Morgan, she tactfully asked the detective, “Is there someplace where we can go to talk?”
Chapter 2
His curiosity officially aroused, Morgan rose to his feet. “Why don’t we go to the conference room? It’s bound to be quieter there than it is in here.”
“That sounds good to me,” Krys replied with a nod. “Lead the way.”
Fredericks snapped to attention the moment he saw his partner and the woman beginning to leave.
“You need any backup, Cavanaugh?” Fredericks volunteered eagerly. He never took his eyes off Morgan’s visitor. “All you need to do is ask,” the man reminded his partner with a wide grin.
“No, I think I can handle this,” Morgan assured the detective. He passed the older man as he went to the rear of the squad room, where both the conference and the interrogation rooms were located.
Fredericks gazed almost longingly at the blonde as she walked by.
“Well, let me know if you can’t,” he called after Morgan. “I’ll be right here, waiting.”
Krys smiled at the older man as she walked behind Morgan to the conference room. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Overhearing her, Fredericks seemed to visibly buck up at the words.
Morgan said nothing until they had reached the conference room. After waiting for Nik’s look-alike to cross the threshold, he closed the door behind her, and then gestured toward the chairs surrounding the lone table in the room.
“Why don’t you take a seat?” he told the woman, leaving the choice open to her.
Once she did, he took one of the chairs positioned on the opposite side of the table, facing hers. Lacing his fingers together before him, Morgan looked at her for a long moment, doing his best to read her. Was she overreacting to whatever had happened to her, or was this on the level?
Or, at the very least, did she believe this to be on the level?
“All right, why don’t you tell me just what makes you think that someone is trying to kill you?” he asked Krys. “Were you recently threatened by someone, or did you do anything that might have gotten someone angry enough to take a permanent shot at you?”
Considering the nature of the situation, Morgan asked the question so calmly and rationally that Krys found herself laughing.
“Did I say something funny, Ms. Kowalski?” Morgan asked.
“Sorry, you had to be there,” she told him, stifling another laugh.
“Unless one of us is having an out-of-body experience, I am there—or rather ‘here,’” Morgan pointed out.
Krys took in another deep breath before explaining why she had decided that, for once, she would bring this to the police. “The first thing I want you to understand is that if it wasn’t for Nik, I wouldn’t be here.”
Morgan nodded his head, feeling as if they were going around in circles. “You already said that. Nik was the one who told you to come to me.”
“No, Nik didn’t say anything of the kind,” Krys corrected him. “What she did say to me was that you worked out of the Major Crimes Division. I drew my own conclusion as to whether or not you could handle this case. But that’s not what I meant.”
“All right,” Morgan said gamely, “just what did you mean?”
She supposed that she wasn’t being very clear. For possibly the first time in her life, her brain felt addled. She would have to spell it out for him, slowly, so she wouldn’t wind up tripping over her tongue. “Nik and I look alike—”
“We’ve already established that,” Morgan reminded her.
Something about this handsome detective rubbed her the wrong way. She would have thought that the matter would be crystal clear to a police detective, but obviously, she’d given the man too much credit.
Krys enunciated her words carefully. “I’m worried that if we don’t find whoever is trying to kill me by the time Nik does come back from her honeymoon, that person might wind up shooting or even killing Nik, thinking that she’s me.” To her relief, Krys saw a light dawning in the detective’s green eyes.
Finally!
“Now do you understand?” she asked, anticipating an affirmative response.
“Yes, I do,” Morgan answered. He felt that the woman was talking down to him, but for the time being, he let that go. Technically, she was now family and as such he had to cut her a little slack—but it wasn’t easy. Patience was not his long suit. “So let’s go back to what I just asked you and I’ll rephrase the question.” Morgan used the simplest terms he could think of. “To the best of your knowledge, have you ticked anyone off recently?”
She had been so wrapped in what she was doing for so long, it was hard for her to conceive of the fact that there were people outside of the world of investigative journalism who knew nothing about her reputation.
With that in mind, Krys started from scratch.
“I’m an investigative journalist,” she told Morgan. “And lately, what that seems to mean is that I—tick people off for a living.”
Morgan appeared a little skeptical about what she had just said. “What is it that you ‘investigate’?”
“Anything that might interest or affect the general public. My last piece was a six-part series about a man who seduced and married lonely, rich widows. All those women eventually met with untimely ends.”
“He killed them?” Morgan asked, vaguely aware of reading something along those lines.
She nodded. “I gathered enough information to get him arrested.” She didn’t bother keeping the pride out of her voice. She had worked hard gathering that information which was used to indict Bluebeard. “He was about to be brought to trial when he managed to escape and go into hiding.”
Well, if she wasn’t making things up, this sounded like the most likely candidate who was trying to kill her. If that turned out to be the case, it shouldn’t take him much time to bring this whole thing to a close, Morgan thought.
“And you believe that this is the person who’s trying to kill you now?” he asked, expecting her to say yes.
If only it was that simple, Krys thought. “Well, he’d certainly be worth tracking down, but I’m not sure if he was the one who took a shot at me.”
He would have said that this sounded pretty cut-and-dried to him. “Why? Are there more people you’ve gotten angry? What are you not telling me?” Morgan asked, scrutinizing her more closely.
“I’m currently working on another story.”
The pregnant note in her voice had Morgan thinking that maybe he had been right. She had gotten more people angry at her. “And what’s the story about?”
“Weatherly Pharmaceuticals has a brand-new drug that’s coming out on the market next month that’s been greatly anticipated,” she began.
Morgan nodded. “I’ve heard about it,” he told her. Everyone with a pulse had. The story had been on the news, growing in scope, for the last year. “What about it?”
“Once it’s on the market,” Krys went on, “it could stand to make everyone involved in its development a boatload of money.”
So far, the woman wasn’t telling him anything that was new, but the look on her face told him that she was about to.
“But...?” he asked.
“But I’ve done lots of research on my own and I’m not convinced that it’s the miracle drug the company says it is. There are a few discrepancies that my
sources say the company has gone out of its way to bury.”
“And you’ve documented this?” he asked.
She read people for a living, but she couldn’t get a handle on whether or not Morgan believed her. She had a feeling she would need to prove herself to him. So be it. Nothing she hadn’t done before.
“I’ve been trying to locate a few of the people involved in the tests who seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. If I find them—and if I’m right—that throws a very large monkey wrench into the results,” she concluded.
Morgan’s expression remained unchanged. What he said next shed no light on the situation for her. He could have easily just been mocking her.
“So you think one of the company’s executives is doing their dirty work and trying to eliminate you from the scene?” Morgan asked.
“I honestly don’t know who’s behind this or who shot at me,” she admitted. “That’s why I came to you. I thought with your expertise you might be able to narrow things down for me, find the person who’s trying to kill me before Nik comes back from her honeymoon.”
“And you’re sure someone is out there, trying to kill you?” Morgan questioned again. “It couldn’t just be your imagination, getting carried away?” His eyes pinned her in place as he continued to wait for her to convince him. “You know, given the stressful nature of your work, maybe you’re imagining things that—”
Krys cut in. “You don’t believe me.” It wasn’t a question.
He didn’t say yes or no. Instead, he said, “Well, I do know that once an idea has found a home in a person’s head, it’s hard to get it out or think of alternative assumptions.”
Well, that did away with any possibility that she had misunderstood him. “You don’t believe that someone’s out to kill me,” she concluded, leaving no room for doubt.
Cavanaugh In Plain Sight (Cavanaugh Justice Book 42) Page 2