So why did she feel so good about sharing something with Bryce that she had heretofore guarded so zealously?
It was much too late in the evening for Twenty Questions, she told herself. Too late for soul-searching, as well. As far as she knew, her soul had gotten lost somewhere between the first and second time they had made love together.
She tried, rather unsuccessfully, to sit up.
“Going somewhere?” he asked her, amused.
“I will if you move,” she told him.
“Oh, right.” He shifted so that she was able to get off the sectional.
Once her path was clear, she told him, “I’m going to bed.”
Scottie gathered her clothes together, holding them loosely against her.
As she began to walk out of the room, she looked at Bryce over her shoulder. He hadn’t moved.
“Are you coming?” she asked.
“Do you want me to come?” he asked, sounding a little surprised by the invitation. He’d taken her getting up and leaving the room as his cue to go home.
She glanced down at the clothes she was holding. “I’m not exactly in the position to hand you an engraved invitation, but, yes, I want you to come upstairs with me to my bedroom. You mentioned that, remember?” she asked, a smile bordering on wicked playing on her lips.
That was all he needed.
Grabbing up his own clothing from the floor, he hurried to the staircase and positioned himself right behind her.
“The staircase is wide enough for both of us,” she pointed out.
“I know,” he answered. “But to be honest, I kind of like the view from where I am.”
Scottie didn’t think it was possible, after having made love twice with the man, but his words created a warm wave that washed right over her body, making it tingle from her toes on up in renewed anticipation.
She didn’t want to try to analyze it or to take it apart, but whatever it was—for however long it lasted—it felt absolutely wonderful.
As did she.
Chapter 17
When she opened her eyes the next morning she fully expected Bryce to be gone. She’d already made her peace with that when she’d drifted off to sleep a few hours ago.
But Bryce wasn’t gone. He was right there beside her, awake and propped up on his elbow, watching her.
“You’re still here,” she murmured, wondering what was going through his head right now. After what had amounted to a full-scale workout she’d had last night, she had no doubts that she probably looked as if she’d combed her hair with an eggbeater.
Bryce couldn’t tell if that was surprise or discomfort in her voice. “Did you want me gone?”
“No.” And as she said it, she knew it was true. She also realized that maybe she was being a little too truthful, given the situation. “But I thought you would be. We had a really great evening, but this is morning now.”
Bryce laughed. “And she tells time, too.” There was a fond look on his face as he said, “There’s no end to your talents, is there?”
Scottie sighed, pulling the bedsheet closer to her. “You’ve got a love-’em-and-leave-’em reputation,” she reminded him. Until this very moment, that hadn’t meant anything to her one way or another. But it did now.
“No more than my brothers did,” Bryce told her. “And eventually, once they found the right woman, they did all settle down.” The conversation was going in a direction he didn’t want to explore just yet so he dropped it. “C’mon, it’s time to go to work.” And then he grinned wickedly. “You’d better get a move on before I decide that maybe I should take a personal day—and make you take one with me.”
“I’m up, I’m up,” she declared, swinging her legs out of the bed. As she stood, she was careful to wrap the sheet around her.
Scottie paused only long enough to grab her clothes.
Making her way into the bathroom, she took what could have possibly been clocked as the fastest shower on record.
Dressed and out in under seven minutes, she announced, “The shower’s all yours.”
Bryce had only had enough time to get his bearings. He hadn’t even picked up his clothing from the floor yet. “Damn, you’re going to have to show me how you do that sometime,” he told her, clearly impressed by her speed. His sisters were quick, but in comparison to Scottie, they all moved at a snail’s pace.
“It’s called moving fast,” she said matter-of-factly. “I can make breakfast to go,” she told him as he went into the bathroom.
“Like I said, you definitely have hidden talents,” Bryce commented appreciatively just before he closed the bathroom door.
Fifteen minutes later, his hair still damp, he came down the stairs following the enticing smell of hot coffee and freshly prepared breakfast. He found Scottie in the kitchen, packing up what she’d just finished preparing.
“What is that great smell?” he asked.
“Well, I’d love to say ‘me,’ but I think you’re referring to the English muffins with ham, cheddar cheese and fried egg I just finished making. This one’s yours,” she told him, pushing a brown bag toward him. “Coffee’s in a travel mug,” she added, nodding at the counter beside the coffeemaker.
Opening the brown bag, Bryce took a deep, appreciative whiff of the wrapped-up English muffin. He could feel his mouth watering. “I think I’m in love.”
Scottie glanced up at him sharply.
Realizing what he’d just said out loud, Bryce cleared his throat, fully aware that he needed to walk that back. “I mean—”
In the true spirit of partnership, Scottie came to his rescue. “Let’s go and see if your sister’s made any headway with the list of people I gave her,” she proposed quickly, pretending she hadn’t heard what he’d just said. She didn’t want to embarrass him, or herself, and that would be the end result if he attempted to correct himself in any way.
“She said she’d call if she found anything,” he reminded Scottie, knowing his partner would be disappointed if there’d been no results yet.
Scottie shrugged carelessly. “I can dream, can’t I?” she asked, walking out of the house in front of him.
“I believe that’s one of our inalienable rights,” he told her, following her out.
* * *
They arrived at the precinct in what amounted to record time. There seemed to be little traffic on the road, given the hour and that it was a Monday.
The moment he was out of his car, Bryce began to unwrap the breakfast muffin that had been driving him crazy with its tempting aroma the whole drive to the precinct.
By the time they walked up the steps to the building’s rear entrance, Bryce had managed to finish half of it.
“You know, you might actually enjoy it more if you didn’t wolf it down,” Scottie pointed out, amazed at how fast he could put it away.
“This is me enjoying my food,” he told her. He grinned at her, indicating what was still left in the wrapper. “This is really good.”
It wasn’t often she got compliments, so rather than brush it off, she said, “Thank you.”
Bryce held the door open for her, letting her go in first. “I didn’t know you knew how to cook.”
That had been a no-brainer. “I didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. My mother was usually passed out in the morning and Ethan needed to eat.”
From her dismissive tone, it was obvious to him that she didn’t want to talk about it. Stopping at the elevator, Scottie pressed the down button. “Do you think there’s a chance that your sister just forgot to text you that she found something yesterday?”
“It’s possible,” he admitted, stretching the word. “But not likely.”
They stopped at the computer lab to see Valri first. “I brought you breakfast,” Scottie announced, tu
rning over the contents of her brown bag to Valri. Bryce looked on in surprise. He’d thought she’d brought the second brown bag for herself.
Valri paused and pulled the bag over. “Smells good,” she told Scottie.
“Tastes even better,” Bryce told her, adding his voice to the conversation.
“She got you breakfast, too?” Valri asked, looking at her brother.
“Not ‘got,’ made,” Bryce corrected. And then, to lighten a possible serious moment, he said, “I think my partner hopes that if she bribes you, you’ll find those people on the list faster.”
The look on Valri’s face was not that of a woman who had achieved her goal. “I’m afraid the only thing I can tell you is that whoever this mastermind behind the break-ins is, he’s managed to make himself and the rest of these people on the list disappear. I don’t think these are even their real names,” she added.
He’d never seen his sister this dejected. “You’re telling me you can’t find them?” Bryce asked.
Valri sighed, clearly frustrated with herself. “That’s what I’m telling you.”
He tried to kid her out of the funk she was slipping into. “Valri, I can handle there not being a real Santa Claus, but I always believed in you.”
She glared at her brother, obviously at a loss as to what to tell him.
“Bryce, don’t do this,” she implored. When he continued to look at her, Valri sighed. “Okay, maybe there’re a couple of things I can still try, but no promises,” she stressed.
Bryce kissed the top of his sister’s head. “You’re the best, Valri. You’ll come through. Enjoy your breakfast,” he urged. It was his way of telling her to take a break. “Meanwhile, Scottie and I are going to go through all the files again and see if maybe we missed something that might help.”
“We didn’t,” Scottie told him as they walked out of the computer lab. “I went all through those files with a fine-tooth comb already and we went back to talk to the victims. Nothing new is going to suddenly stand out,” she told Bryce, trying not to sound as exasperated as she felt.
There was always more than one way to look at something, Bryce thought. His grandfather had taught him that. “Maybe it will if we go over it from another angle,” he told her.
* * *
They started at the beginning, going over the written statements of each of the break-in victims. The statements all appeared to be almost identical in nature. The victims would return home and at first none of them would notice that anything was out of place. Their security systems were set and there were no open doors, no broken windows, nothing to indicate that anyone had been in the house during the time they had been gone. Discovery that they’d been robbed came in different forms.
In one instance, the home owner went to put away her jewelry and found the lockbox where she kept everything was empty. Her jewelry and their extensive coin collection were gone.
In another case, on a whim, the owner wanted to look over his coin collection, a ritual he liked to perform once a month. Had he not done that, there was no telling when the missing collection and jewelry might have been noticed.
In all the cases, there was more than adequate insurance to cover the losses. There was nothing, however, to help the victims get over the feeling of being violated and the feeling that they were no longer safe in their own homes.
“Each of these people changed security systems,” Bryce volunteered, adding that to the list of things they were attempting to compare about the break-ins.
Scottie frowned, shaking her head. “Won’t do them any good,” she predicted. “Their systems are being hacked into so that the thieves can enter the house without a problem.”
A thought occurred to him, not for the first time. “Do you think someone from the security company is behind this?”
She would have liked that. It would have been an easy solution, and it wouldn’t have involved her brother. But she had to shake her head. “No. We’ve already noted that there are several different security companies used. That would involve too many people.”
“Can your brother hack into these systems?” he asked her point-blank.
Scottie wanted to say no, but she couldn’t. There really was no limit to what Ethan could do. She knew that firsthand.
So, with the greatest reluctance, she told Bryce, “Yes.”
He appreciated her honesty. He knew what this had to be costing her. “You know this is not looking very good for him, Scottie.”
“I don’t care how it ‘looks,’” she retorted. “I know Ethan. He wouldn’t do this. Maybe he would have, years ago,” she allowed, “but he worked too hard in turning his life around. I worked too hard helping him turn his life around. He just wouldn’t do this to either of us.” She searched Bryce’s face, all but begging for his understanding. “You’ve got to believe me.”
He sighed. The moment seemed to draw itself out until it was thinner than a thread. And then he sighed again, telling her, “I do. In the meantime, we keep looking for him. You’ve tried all his old haunts?” he asked.
“He doesn’t have that many. And I tried every place I could think of.” She rose from her desk.
“Where are you going?” he asked, instantly alert.
“To Forensics to find out if they managed to match the blood they found on the ground to anyone.” The fact that it might have belonged to Ethan had been haunting her since the discovery.
“Call them. That’s what we have phones for,” he pointed out.
But she remained adamant. “I need to stretch my legs,” she said, leaving the squad room.
When she pressed for the elevator, she could feel Bryce’s presence. She didn’t even need to turn around. Did he think she was going to do something to throw a monkey wrench into the investigation?
“Are you stalking me now?” she asked, turning to look at him.
“I told you I’d have your back in all this and this is part of having your back. We do everything together,” he told her. “Besides, my legs could stand some stretching, too.”
She wasn’t sure if she bought all that, but for now there was no point in challenging him.
“Whatever,” she murmured.
* * *
Sean Cavanaugh was busy running the mass spectrometer when Bryce walked into the CSI lab with Scottie. As ever, the head of the day lab’s smile was warm and genuine when he greeted visitors to the lab.
“Ah, just in time,” he told them.
“For...?” Bryce asked, allowing his voice to trail off as he waited to be filled in.
“That last home owner thought he winged one of the thieves,” Sean said. “He did.”
“Could you match the blood to someone’s DNA?” Scottie asked.
She could almost feel her heart lodging itself in her throat. What if the home owner, Williams, had hit Ethan? What if her brother was somewhere this very moment, needing medical care, his wound becoming infected? What if—?
Sean shook his head. “No match in the system. Sorry,” he apologized.
With conflicted feelings, Scottie took a giant step forward. “There’s a sealed juvie record,” she told the unit leader. “I’ve got the case number.” Feeling her stomach tighten and wondering if she was going to really regret this, she recited the number from memory. “See if it matches that.”
Sean looked at her somewhat uncertainly. “But, like you said, it’s sealed, so I can’t.”
“I’m that person’s guardian and I give you permission,” she told him grimly. “Please, run the DNA.”
Instead of hitting her with questions, she saw sympathy in the older Cavanaugh’s eyes. It both comforted her—and made her feel worse.
“This might take a little bit,” Sean warned.
Bryce tamped down the urge to take her hand in mute comfort. “We ca
n wait, Uncle Sean,” Bryce told him.
Sean glanced from his nephew to Scottie. “Okay, give me a few minutes,” he told them, disappearing into his office.
“Scottie—” Bryce began.
But she waved him into silence. She didn’t want to hear any empty, comforting words. She wanted to be alone, but since she couldn’t just take off, she was opting for silence.
“I don’t want to talk right now.”
“Okay. But whatever happens, we’ll find a way to make it right,” he promised her.
If only... Scottie wished.
* * *
When Sean returned several minutes later he walked back to the mass spectrometer and ran the test again. Since there was only one DNA pattern to compare to, the test went rather quickly.
Sean ran the test twice.
At the end, as the machine fell silent, he turned around to face the two detectives in the room.
Scottie could feel her nerves peeling apart. She couldn’t stand the suspense and the tension a second longer. It took everything she had not to grab the older man’s arm and demand an answer from him.
Instead she asked in the most controlled voice she could summon, “Well?”
Sean shook his head. “Sorry, we struck out again. No match.”
She vaguely remembered grabbing Bryce’s arm and squeezing hard, telegraphing her sense of tremendous relief. It was also to help her keep upright because her knees felt as if they were about to buckle.
“Don’t be sorry,” she told Sean in a husky whisper. “You tried. Guess we’ll just have to go on looking for viable suspects. Thank you,” she said, trying not to sound as cheerful as she felt.
It wasn’t Ethan.
The blood didn’t belong to Ethan. Whatever else was going on, her brother hadn’t been shot, wasn’t holed up somewhere with the possibility of gangrene looming over him. For the first time since the investigation had stepped up, Scottie felt almost giddy despite the fact that they were no closer to finding Ethan, or any of the other people she had known him to have once associated with than they had been initially.
Cavanaugh on Call Page 17