Rumors: The McCaffertys: The McCaffertys: ThorneThe McCaffertys: Matt

by Lisa Jackson

  “She’s right.” Espinoza flashed his badge.

  “Randi’s my sister,” Matt said flatly. “And it’s gonna take a helluva lot more than a badge to stop me from seeing for myself that she’s okay. You people,” he snorted, and brushed past Espinoza. Bob stepped forward, but Kelly, recognizing Matt’s need to see for himself that his sister was alive, put a hand on Espinoza’s arm as the two McCafferty brothers entered the ICU ward.

  “The nurses will shoo them out,” she said under her breath, and within seconds, Matt and Slade were back in the hallway. They were more subdued, but the anger in the set of Matt’s mouth hadn’t disappeared. “This might not have happened,” he stated, his brown eyes drilling into hers before centering on Espinoza, “if the police hadn’t been sitting on their backsides while a killer was on the loose.”

  Espinoza’s dark gaze flashed fire. “We don’t know that.”

  “Like hell.” Matt went nose-to-nose with the detective. Broad shoulders were tense, the cords in the back of his neck stretched taut, his muscles flexed, as if ready for a fight. “Maybe you didn’t before, but I’d say that all doubt is gone.”

  “Things have changed.”

  “Damned straight. My sister nearly died.” His furious gaze burned a path from Roberto Espinoza to Kelly. His lips were blade-thin, bracketed by thin white lines of rage. “Now, let’s get on with the investigation.”

  “Maybe you should let us do our jobs,” Kelly snapped, more at her own reaction to the man than at Matt. Just being around him made her tense, edgy, and that silly feminine part that she so long had penned screamed to be set free whenever he was near. Her emotions were a mess. While maintaining her professionalism, she was trying to cut the guy some slack, but he was coming on pretty strong out here in the hushed corridors of St. James Hospital.

  “Do your jobs? Let me know when you’ve started,” Matt growled.

  “Wait a minute—”

  “No.” He pushed his nose to within inches of hers and jabbed a finger in the air. His dark skin was red, his nostrils flared, his eyebrows rammed into a single line. “You wait a minute. My sister nearly died, got it? Died. Twice. I don’t think we can give you permission to take your own sweet time.”

  “We’re doing everything possible to find out what happened,” she said, squaring her shoulders, not giving in an inch when she wanted nothing more than to put some distance between her body and his, to give herself more room to think.

  “Then what about the maroon Ford? Kurt Striker found where Randi’s rig was scraped by another vehicle. The paint samples he took from the fender matched any number of Ford products.”

  “We know that and we’re checking into it,” Espinoza said firmly as the elevator doors opened and a petite, smartly dressed woman emerged. Kelly recognized the local news reporter in her three-inch heels and tailored suit.

  “How’d she get past security and get up here?” Kelly asked, stepping forward, blocking the woman’s path. “You’ll have to go downstairs,” she ordered.

  “I’m with the news.”

  “Jana Madrid. KABO. We’ve met before.” Kelly didn’t budge.

  “I just want to talk to someone to get the facts.” She managed a camera-perfect smile. “You’re a police officer. Is it true that there was an attempt on Randi McCafferty’s life tonight, here, in the hospital?”

  “No comment.”

  “But—” The reporter was craning her neck, trying to see past the nurses’ station to the small crowd clustered around the ICU. “Matt McCafferty’s here.”

  “You know him?” Kelly asked.

  “We’ve met. Yes.” Jana’s large eyes narrowed and Kelly could almost see the gears turning in the woman’s mind. “So someone did make an attempt on his sister’s life. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get a statement from him.”

  “Later.”

  “What, exactly, happened here?”

  “Leave, Ms. Madrid. Now.” Kelly was firm, sensing one of the deputies approaching her to help.

  “I just need a few facts for a story,” Jana persisted, throwing a friendlier smile in Kelly’s direction. “Come on. If a killer’s on the loose, the public needs to be aware of it.”

  “The department will issue a statement at the appropriate time, as will the hospital. Until then I’m not at liberty to answer any questions.” Kelly slapped the elevator call button.

  “But the people have the right to know.”

  “The people need to know facts. When we have some. Now, please, either leave the hospital alone, or I’ll have someone escort you.”

  “I’ll handle it,” the deputy who’d come to assist her offered. Six-three or four-, with his blond hair shaved to barely a quarter of an inch, he stepped forward. About twenty-six and beefy, Mike Benedict was a force to be reckoned with. The reporter hesitated, started to say something, then with a quick appraisal of the no-win situation, frowned.

  “Television could help with the investigation, you know. If we got a sketch of a suspect, we could air it to the community, be involved in a community watch. It’s the public’s right.”

  “We’ll let you know. Now, please,” Kelly said firmly, and the woman reluctantly stepped into the elevator. The doors closed and Kelly returned to find Matt McCafferty ready to jump down Espinoza’s throat.

  “So check the hell faster, would ya? Find out what’s going on and arrest the bastard who did this to Randi before she winds up dead!”

  From the corner of her eye Kelly caught sight of a slim woman in a white coat striding purposefully along the hallway. Her hair was tossed off her face, and her worried gold eyes, sculpted cheekbones and full lips were set into a regal countenance. Her name tag read Nicole Stevenson, M.D.

  “Where’s Thorne?” she asked without preamble. She seemed cool and sophisticated, but just beneath the surface of her eyes there was a deeper emotion. Worry. Maybe even fear. Obviously a strong woman, one who was in charge of her life professionally and personally, she was nonetheless frightened. Kelly had seen enough trauma to recognize when someone’s calm life had been breached. The killer had broken into Nicole Stevenson’s workplace, a spot she considered a haven, and attacked someone the doctor was close to. Beneath her veneer of cool professionalism, Dr. Nicole Stevenson was anxious.

  “We left Thorne home with the kids,” Slade said.

  “But I thought he was going to get Juanita or Jenny to stay…oh, it doesn’t matter. I thought I’d check on Randi again,” Nicole said before her gaze landed on Kelly. “Detective Dillinger.” She didn’t bother forcing a smile she didn’t feel. Obviously she, too, thought the police weren’t doing everything possible to track down Randi’s enemies or protect her from attack.

  “Do that—check on Randi,” Slade said, shoving a hand nervously through his rumpled black hair.

  “I’ll be back in a minute.” Nicole swept through the doors to Intensive Care with the quiet authority of a medical professional on her own turf.

  “You questioned her?” Kelly asked Espinoza.

  He nodded.

  “I think I’ll have a few words with her.”

  “Have at. But she didn’t see much. I’ll be up on the fourth floor in the private room where she was attacked,” he said, with one last glance at the McCafferty brothers as he headed toward the elevators.

  “How’s your sister doing?” Kelly asked, hitching her chin at the closed doors to ICU.

  White lines of irritation were visible at the corners of Matt’s mouth, but he’d calmed a bit and the self-righteous fury she’d seen burning in his eyes had faded to some extent. “I guess we should be thankful she’s alive.”

  Slade nodded. “Now, if only she’d wake up.”

  “That would help,” Matt agreed, and slid his jaw to the side. “Why don’t you tell me any theories you have?” he said. “Surely you must have some idea who’s behind this.”

  “Ideas, no suspects, no hard evidence.” Kelly shook her head thoughtfully. “Not much to go on. How about y
ou? Or you?” She cut a glance toward Slade. “I’ll buy you a cup of coffee in the cafeteria.”

  Matt looked at the closed door to the ICU. “Just as soon as we talk to Nicole.”

  “You go along,” Slade said to Matt, and braced himself against the wall with his shoulders. “I think I’ll hang out here and I’ll let Nicole know where you are so she can fill you in.”

  “Fair enough.” Matt nodded sharply and fell into step with Kelly as they took the back stairs.

  On the first floor, Matt walked directly toward the cafeteria, a path he’d obviously traveled often while his half sister, nephew and brother were patients at St. James. The coffee was complimentary, and they found a quiet table near the windows and a shedding ficus tree.

  “I want to know what you guys have,” Matt said, sipping from a paper cup, his dark eyes blazing above the rim. “And don’t keep anything back. I’m not buying into anything being top secret or any other mumbo-jumbo. I want the facts about my sister.”

  Kelly had nothing to hide. She took a sip of her coffee and leaned her elbows on the table, so that she was closer to this middle McCafferty brother and could keep her voice at a lower level. “I’ll tell you what I can, but I’m not going to compromise the investigation.”

  “I’m family, for Pete’s sake.”

  “But they’re not.” Lifting an eyebrow, she scanned the tables, noting that a few nurses sat at one, at another, doctors in scrubs, and at a third, a few people were drinking from cups while others milled nearby. Jana Madrid, the pushy reporter who had pushed her way onto the floor housing the ICU, was among them.

  “The press.” Matt scowled darkly.

  “Some of them. Who else would be up at this hour?”

  “Hell.”

  “So let’s just talk in general terms.”

  “Shoot.”

  “As I said, we’re investigating the possibility that your sister might have been run off the road, and we’re checking any vehicles that might have needed body work after the time of the accident, specifically maroon Fords. We’ve narrowed that down to probably an Explorer. Also, we’re checking on the people she worked with and the men she dated....” Kelly let her voice drift off as one of the men near the table of reporters, a thin man with sandy hair, a clipped mustache and an affable smile wended his way through the empty tables in their direction. Not far behind was the petite newswoman.

  “Excuse me,” the man said, flashing a brilliant smile. “I’m Troy White with KAB—”

  “I’ve seen you on television,” Kelly said, cutting the reporter off. “I’ve already said ‘No comment’ to one of your associates.” She pointed toward Jana Madrid, and the woman took it as a cue to step forward. Inwardly groaning, Kelly leveled her censorious gaze at Troy.

  “I’d just like a few words with Mr. McCafferty. You’re Matt, right?”

  Matt glared at him as if he could see right through the man. “Yep.”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “I do.” Matt’s expression was hard as granite.

  “But it’ll only take a few seconds.” This from Jana, who despite her brashness stood a step behind Troy as if the small man were some kind of shield. Doctors, nurses and the woman behind the cafeteria counter all stopped to watch.

  “Another time,” Matt said, standing and towering over the shorter man by three or four inches. He was spoiling for a fight, if ever anyone was. His shoulders were bunched, his right hand clenched into a fist, his nostrils flared.

  The reporter either didn’t pick up on Matt’s mood, or didn’t give a damn. “Just tell me about Randi. Do you have any idea who would attack your sister?”

  “That’s it!” Kelly shot to her feet. “Maybe you weren’t listening, but Mr. McCafferty here said he didn’t want to be bothered, so maybe you’d better wait for your interview until it’s more convenient for him.” Kelly wedged her angry body between the reporter and Matt and glowered at both reporters, then allowed her gaze to skate across the room to include the cameraman hanging out near the coffeemaker. “Now, if you people aren’t careful, I’ll personally escort you out of here.”

  Troy White took offense. His mustache shivered. “Listen, lady, the American people have the right to know—”

  “Stuff it, Troy,” Kelly said, cutting him off. “I already heard the spiel from Jana here.” She glanced at the woman next to him. “Both of you will have to wait for a statement.”

  Jana’s lips pinched. “Let it go,” she said, touching Troy’s sleeve, though her eyes were fastened to Matt. Despite her professionalism, Kelly felt an unlikely spurt of jealousy squirt through her veins. The woman was pretty, proud and predatory. “We’ve got enough tape for the morning news,” Jana said, and managed a smile that seemed to be trained only on Matt. “Thank you for your trouble.”

  Troy White somehow managed to grit his teeth and give Kelly and Matt a quick cursory nod. “Another time.”

  “Call first,” Matt warned. He strode out the doors and Kelly caught up with him near the reception area. He slid her a glance as he kept walking. “Look, Detective, I don’t need anyone to fight my battles.” He glanced down at her small frame. “Especially not a woman.”

  “I’m a cop,” she reminded him as they reached the elevators.

  “A female cop.”

  Stung, she slapped the call button. “But a cop just the same. I can handle myself,” she asserted, angry with herself for letting his remarks get under her skin. He was so damned unsettling and his opinion mattered way more than it should.

  “I don’t remember asking for your help.”

  The nerve of the man. Of all the pompous, self-serving…Simmering, she turned on him, ready for a fight. “I was just doing my job, okay? I didn’t mean to step on your fragile male ego if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

  He grabbed her arm. “Nothing about me is fragile.” Her heart leaped and blood pounded in her ears as she stared into a face raw with emotion.

  The doors to the elevator slid open. Nicole Stevenson nearly collided with them. “Oh! Matt?” She stopped on the tracking and the doors started to close only to open again. The bell chimed. Her surprised gaze moved from the middle McCafferty brother’s eyes to Kelly’s before she glanced down at Matt’s fingers, wrapped so tightly over Kelly’s arm.

  “Vulture alert,” Matt said, dropping Kelly’s elbow as if it were hot. “The press.”

  “They just don’t let up,” Nicole muttered. She frowned at Kelly. “Maybe that’s something you should handle.”

  “I have.”

  “Just like you and your department handled Randi’s safety?” she asked, then, as if hearing herself, sighed and stepped back into the elevator car. “Sorry,” she said, leaning her shoulders against the back wall of the elevator. She shoved stiff fingers through her hair, pushing the locks off her forehead. “That was uncalled-for.” Matt pushed the button to the third floor. “I’m just worried sick,” Nicole admitted. “Not only for Randi, but for Thorne as well.”

  “He’ll be fine. Tough as nails,” Matt said, and offered her an encouraging smile, hinting at a softer, kinder man beneath his cowboy-thick skin. There was definitely more to the man than met the eye, more than he wanted most people to see. More than Kelly wanted to glimpse. The last thing she needed was to start softening to any member of the McCafferty family. Especially this man who sent her pulse skyrocketing for no tangible reason.

  “I hope he’ll be okay,” Nicole whispered.

  The rest of the ride was tense silence. On the third floor Slade was still standing, one shoulder propped against the wall near the doors to the ICU. A self-imposed security guard. “Your boss is looking for you,” he said to Kelly. There wasn’t a bit of warmth in his laser-blue eyes; he was as cold to her as the McCaffertys had always been.

  “Espinoza?”

  “Yeah. He’s up on the fourth floor.”

  “Thanks.” Kelly noted that the policewoman was still hanging around. Espinoza was leaving nothing to chance
. “I’ll need to talk to all of you again.”

  “You know where to find us,” Matt said, and she felt his gaze drilling into her back as she hurried to the stairwell. Inhaling deeply, she forced him from her mind. She couldn’t, wouldn’t think of him as anything more than the brother of a victim…nothing more.

  Jaw set, she took the stairs two at a time. Whether anyone in the McCafferty household believed it or not, she was determined to unearth the slime who had run Randi McCafferty off the road and, when that hadn’t killed her, had found the guts to walk into a hospital and try to finish the job. Not that murdering a comatose victim took much bravery.

  Kelly couldn’t wait to nail the bastard.

  Because she wanted to solve the crime, because she wanted to insure Randi’s safety and because, damn it, she wanted to prove herself to Matt McCafferty.

  Chapter 4

  “So the police have nothing,” Thorne said the next morning while huddled over a cup of coffee, his broken leg propped on another chair at the scarred kitchen table, the same table where they’d prayed, eaten and fought as kids. The maple surface was nicked and half the original chairs had been replaced, but the biggest change was that John Randall no longer took his seat at the head of the table near the window, where he could rest his elbow on the ledge, sip coffee and stare out at the vast acres of the ranch he loved.

  Not that Matt cared. But, in a way, it seemed odd that the old man was missing. “I think the police don’t have a clue as to who’s behind the attacks.”

  “Hell.” Storm clouds gathered in Thorne’s gray eyes and Matt knew that his older brother was silently cussing his broken leg for keeping him housebound. Thorne couldn’t stand being cooped up. A control freak from the get-go, he needed to be in charge, to make decisions, to be able to be on the front lines. “Has anyone heard from Striker?” he grumbled.

  “Not for a couple of days.” Matt stretched one arm over his head and yawned. He’d spent a restless night, tossed and turned, his mind spinning in endless circles of concern for his sister, her baby, and with disturbing thoughts about a certain red-haired cop, the one who seemed determined to infiltrate his dreams and keep him awake at night. He’d woken up this morning and beelined for the shower, turning on the cold stinging spray to chase any remaining thoughts of her from his mind…and body. Why he was attracted to Kelly Dillinger, he couldn’t imagine. She was a policewoman, for crying out loud. Not exactly his type.