Valri waved away Krys’s words. “I’ll do what I can.” She nodded at Krys’s laptop. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Leaning the laptop against a corner of Valri’s desk, Krys opened it, pulled up the saved data she had and scrolled down to the folders that she needed. She turned her laptop around so that it faced Valri.
“This is all the material that I managed to collect on Bluebeard,” she told the lab tech.
Valri skimmed over the first few paragraphs, then looked up from the laptop. “The first thing we need to do is find out what this guy’s real name is,” she told the two people by her desk. She indicated the laptop. “Can I hang on to this?”
It was Morgan who answered her before Krys had a chance to. “Krys needs that for her work, Val. Can you hook her up with a printer or better yet, a thumb drive? That way she can transfer the information you need to that and she gets to hold on to her laptop so she can go on with her work.”
Krys looked at Morgan in surprise, amazed that he actually remembered that.
“Sure, sounds good to me,” Valri told him. She opened up her middle drawer and rummaged around until she found a thumb drive that Krys could use. “This should be all you need. It’s large enough to hold the contents of two entire computers.”
Accepting the small thumb drive, Krys looked around the lab. “Is there some place where I can sit?”
Valri indicated an unoccupied desk way over in the corner. “Jackson took a sick day,” she said, referring to one of the junior technicians who worked in the lab. “You’re free to use his desk.”
Krys flashed a smile, gathering up her laptop as well as the thumb drive. “This’ll only take a few minutes,” she promised.
Valri gestured around at her desk. “I’ll still be here.”
Krys walked quickly over to the unoccupied desk. The moment she was out of earshot, Valri looked at Morgan. “You realize that you owe me, right?”
“Isn’t helping to prevent murder part of your job description?” Morgan asked loftily.
“Yes, but these are all important cases. And my ‘job’ doesn’t mean that I have to drop everything that’s ahead of you in order to accommodate you. See this?” she asked, gesturing to the piles of papers that were all over her desk. “These are requests that are ahead of you and Nik’s twin over there.” She looked over toward where Krys had sat down and shook her head, silently marveling to herself. “I’ve seen twins before, but it’s positively eerie how much Krys looks exactly like Finn’s wife.”
“I know. When I first saw Krys, I thought it was Finn’s wife playing some sort of trick on me.”
“And you’re sure it’s not a trick?” she asked him. Because if it was, then for some reason the woman copying files onto that thumb drive had gone to great lengths to fool them.
“Oh, it’s not a trick. Trust me,” Morgan assured his cousin. “Krys brought me her car. The driver’s side window had been completely shot out and when I drove her to the hotel where she was staying so she could get her things, a black van came out of nowhere and narrowly missed running her over. It probably would have succeeded if I hadn’t pulled her out of the way at the last minute.”
“And she thinks that this ‘Bluebeard’ character she exposed is doing this now to get his revenge?” Valri guessed.
“Well, actually, he’s just one of the candidates,” Morgan told her.
Valri’s eyes widened. “There are more?” she questioned in surprise. “This just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?”
“Full disclosure,” Morgan prefaced. “You should know that Krys is currently writing a multipart online series about a supposed miracle drug that Weatherly Pharmaceuticals is putting on the market soon. If successful, the drug stands to make the company and its investors a hell of a lot of money—that is, if it winds up living up to its hype.”
“Can it?” Valri asked.
“From what I gather, that’s exactly what Krys is challenging.” He watched Krys as she continued transferring files. He couldn’t get over how intent the blonde looked as she worked. And how totally removed from the situation she seemed. “Needless to say, there are undoubtedly people out there who are trying to get her to drop her investigation and just keep quiet.”
“Permanently quiet?” Valri asked.
It was his business not to get personally involved in cases, to keep his distance and view them all impartially so he could do what needed to be done to solve them. But he found himself drawn to the crusading journalist. The idea that someone was out there trying to silence her permanently bothered him as well as worried him.
“That would be my guess,” he told his cousin, trying to sound as if this was just another case he was trying to bring to a close. “All I know for sure is that someone tried to run her over and someone, most likely the same someone, took shots at her the day before that. Personally, I don’t think they’re going to just throw in the towel and give up.”
Valri nodded, taking in the expression on her cousin’s face. “You’re probably right. I’ll do my best to get you some answers.”
Morgan smiled and brushed a quick kiss on her cheek. “You’re the best.”
“Talk is cheap, Morgan. If you’re interested, I do accept all forms of tribute,” she reminded him as Krys walked back over to them.
She had her laptop tucked back into the backpack she had used to carry it. The strap was slung over her shoulder. In her hand she had the thumb drive that Valri had given her.
“Okay,” Krys announced. “Everything I have on that bloodthirsty madman is all on this drive.” She surrendered the thumb drive to Valri. “If you have any questions, or something doesn’t make sense to you, please call me. Anytime, day or night. Here, let me give you my cell number.”
Krys paused to write the number down on a nearby notepad. After tearing the paper off the pad, she offered it to Valri.
The latter took the paper. “I’ll give you a call if I find anything,” she promised both Krys and Morgan.
“Like I said, I do appreciate this,” Morgan told his cousin.
Valri nodded, then looked at the woman standing beside Morgan. “Nice meeting you, Not-Nik,” she said with a smile. “Stay close to this guy,” she advised, indicating Morgan. “If you can keep from strangling him, he will keep you safe.”
And with that, Valri got back to work. By the time the duo had reached the first door leading out of the computer lab, Valri’s mind was well immersed in her search to the exclusion of everything else.
“If anyone can locate this ‘Bluebeard’ character, it’s Valri,” Morgan told Krys. “She is really, really good at her job.”
“I’m sure she is,” Krys replied. She wasn’t totally convinced that his cousin would be successful in finding out who the man was, but it had nothing to do with how capable Valri was. “It’s just that ‘Bluebeard’ is really good at being elusive. There have been three separate police departments looking for him in three separate cities and they came up with nothing.”
“Everyone’s luck runs out sometime,” he said as they walked to the elevator.
“I certainly hope you’re right,” she told him with feeling, and then added sincerely, “and that it’s his luck and not mine that’s run out.”
Lowering his voice, he made her a promise. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
For a split second, Krys actually felt safe. But then the feeling faded in the face of reality. He couldn’t really make a promise like that. “Did I miss that big red S on your chest?” she asked him.
The smile he gave her created an unexpected tingle in the pit of her stomach. “As a matter fact, you did. I keep it hidden under my clothes.”
“Good to know.”
The elevator arrived on the first floor and its doors drew open. The moment they did, Morgan escorted Krys off the elevator. The two detectives
who were waiting to get on looked at them, each murmuring a greeting just before recognition suddenly set in. The wide, welcoming smiles the two flashed were directed toward the woman beside Morgan.
“I thought you and Finn were going to be gone until next week,” Detective Christian Cavanaugh O’Bannon said.
“I thought it was supposed to be longer,” his brother Luke said, confused as to why something as special as a honeymoon would be cut short. He grinned at her and teased, “Did you get bored?”
Thinking that this could get uncomfortably embarrassing very quickly, Morgan spoke up. “Guys, I think you should know something.”
Christian laughed at his cousin, holding the elevator door open as he looked at the woman beside Morgan. “What could you possibly have to tell us, Morgan?”
“Well, for starters,” Morgan began loftily, nodding at Krys, “I could tell you that this isn’t Finn’s wife, Nikki Cavanaugh.”
“Yeah, right,” Luke responded. And then he waved away the very suggestion. “Of course this is Nikki. We know what she looks like.” But Morgan’s expression never changed. “Who else would it be?” Luke challenged.
The elevator doors kept shuddering, attempting to close as Krys put out her hand to Luke, the detective closest to her. “No, he’s right,” she said. “I’m Krystyna Kowalski, Nikki’s twin sister.”
The brothers exchanged looks, then laughed. “Sure you are,” Luke said, dismissing Krys’s attempt to set them straight.
Rather than spend any more time arguing with the two disbelievers, Krys did what she’d initially done with Morgan. She took out her wallet and held up her driver’s license. “This is me,” she told the detectives. “And this,” she went on as she dug out the photograph depicting both herself and Nik that had been taken several years ago, “is a picture of the two of us.”
Luke took the photograph first, totally stunned by what he was looking at. He raised his eyes from the photograph to look at the woman next to Morgan. And then he looked at the photograph again.
“You’re right,” he declared, stunned as he glanced back at Krys again. “There are two of you.” He handed the photo to his brother. “Does anyone else know?”
“We’re informing the family as we come across them,” Morgan said, thinking that for now that was a simpler explanation than going into why Krys hadn’t been at the wedding and what she was doing at the precinct now.
Christian handed back the photo and then grinned as a thought hit him. “Wait ’til Uncle Andrew finds out. Talk about having an excuse to throw a party. This’ll blow him away.”
“Uncle Andrew?” Krys asked Morgan as the elevator doors finally closed on Christian and Luke, taking them to their destination.
“He’s the former chief of police. Uncle Andrew loves to throw parties. He’s been known to use just about anything for an excuse in order to do it. And having you turn up,” Morgan told her, “could very well be just about the most perfect excuse for throwing a party that he’s ever had.”
Krys supposed that she was going to have to meet the rest of the family sooner or later, but now wasn’t the opportune time.
“Well, any party is going to have to wait until we can catch that stalker,” she told Morgan. She wouldn’t be able to focus on meeting the family members or having a good time while someone was out there, stalking her and attempting to kill her.
“No argument here,” Morgan agreed. “Your safety is of paramount importance. Of course,” he said after a beat, catching her attention, “there is that old adage about there being safety in numbers.”
“That might be true, but I’m not about to take a chance on someone getting hurt because they got in the way of a stray bullet meant for me,” she told him. Krys grew silent for a moment as she looked at Morgan, concerns crowding her head. “For that matter, the idea of you possibly getting hurt because you’re playing my guardian angel doesn’t exactly warm my heart, either.”
Morgan waved away her concern. “Don’t worry about it. That’s what I get paid for,” he reminded her.
“You get paid for being a walking target?” she asked.
His mouth curved in a lopsided smile. “I don’t think of myself in terms like that,” he told her as they hurried down the stairs and returned to his vehicle.
He opened the door on the passenger side and held it for her.
“Exactly what sort of terms do you think of yourself in?”
“I’d like to think that I can deflect those bullets,” Morgan deadpanned.
Like a superhero, she thought. “Oh, so in other words, you suffer from a strong case of delusion.”
“Hey,” he pretended to protest, getting into his car, “I’m dedicated to keeping you safe and breathing. Maybe you should be a little nicer to me.”
“If I was really being nicer to you, I’d tell you that I could take it from here and you’re free to go.”
Morgan surprised her by laughing.
“What’s so funny?” she asked indignantly.
His lips curved as he looked at her, amusement shining in his eyes. “You.”
Krys found herself struggling not to get annoyed. She didn’t like to be laughed at. “You’re going to have to explain that.”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily so you might as well stop acting tough, Krys. You’re stuck with me for the duration, until whoever is trying to take you out is either dead themselves, or permanently behind bars.” He looked at her just before he put his key into the ignition. “So deal with it,” he told her.
Chapter 9
“‘Deal with it’?” Krys questioned, surprised that Morgan would have said something that blasé to her. It wasn’t anything that she would have expected from him.
“You heard me,” he told her.
Krys merely shook her head. “You Cavanaughs certainly are a pushy bunch, aren’t you?”
The expression on her face made him laugh. His manner softened slightly. “You don’t know the half of it.”
Morgan drove his vehicle to the edge of the parking lot, just before it exited onto the street, and then he came to a temporary stop.
Pausing, he looked at Krys. “All right, where to now?” When Krys didn’t immediately reply, he prodded her. “C’mon, you said you had this busy schedule and needed to meet your deadline, so where to?” he asked again, a bit more insistently this time.
“Then you were really serious about coming with me while I do the rest of my interviews?”
“Absolutely. Don’t worry, I have no intentions of flashing my badge—and the gun only comes out if someone threatens you,” he deadpanned.
But Krys was still hoping that, when it came right down to it, Cavanaugh was just yanking her chain. She wanted him to find whoever was trying to kill her, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to physically be her bodyguard. She certainly didn’t want him there during the interviews.
“You’re kidding, right?” she asked, fervently hoping that he was.
For the time being, Morgan’s expression remained completely unreadable. “What do you think, Kowalski?”
Krys closed her eyes, seeking inner strength. This promised to be an impossible situation if she didn’t find a way to get him to back off.
And then she thought something that might be an acceptable compromise for him. “Look, how about if you stay in the car while I conduct my interviews?” she asked hopefully, mentally crossing her fingers.
Hope died a quick death as Morgan shook his head. “Unacceptable.”
She frowned, still trying to come up with an alternative. “How about if I wear a wire?” she suggested. “If someone I’m questioning comes right out and threatens me, I’ll get your attention by using a safe word.”
But Morgan vetoed that choice as well. “No.”
“It’s going to have to be a different safe word than that one. ‘No’ is
too common a word to use.”
“How about this: you can introduce me as your assistant.”
She gave him a long, scrutinizing look. “No offense, Cavanaugh, but you don’t look like someone that I would have as an assistant.”
If she was trying to put him off, she failed. “Then I’d say it’s about time that you broaden your tastes. Now,” he said, taking hold of the steering wheel again and releasing his brake, “where do you want me to take you?”
There was no use trying to reason with him or get him to back off, Krys thought. With a sigh, she gave him her next intended destination. “Weatherly Pharmaceuticals. I’ve got an appointment with Jim Peters, one of the scientists on the team researching drug number 1317.”
“That’s the drug’s name?” he questioned, surprised. “They’ll have to go with something catchier than that,” he said sarcastically.
“That’s the temporary working number of the ‘miracle drug,’” she told him. “The drug’s actual name is a secret until Weatherly finally releases it on the open market.”
“They’re afraid someone is going to steal the name?” he questioned, obviously amused by the thought.
“You’d be surprised.” Even the code number being used had been a secret until very recently.
“You’re right,” Morgan said to her. “I would be. All right, then we’re agreed,” he said as he drove toward the Weatherly compound. “When we get to Weatherly Pharmaceuticals, you’ll just introduce me as your assistant.”
“Right. My assistant. Waldo Jones,” she said, coming up with a name on the spur of the moment for this fictional character he had created.
Morgan winced at the name. “Waldo Jones? That’s what you came up with?” he questioned incredulously.
“Hey, you can still stay in the car,” she told him, making it clear that using this awful name was the only way she would go along with this charade.
Morgan sighed. “All right, Waldo Jones it is,” he agreed. After all, the name, hideous as it was, didn’t really matter.
“And you don’t talk,” she added, deciding that would probably be the best way to pull this off.
Cavanaugh In Plain Sight (Cavanaugh Justice Book 42) Page 8