Cavanaugh Cold Case

by Marie Ferrarella

  Kristin stared at the other man for a moment. At first glance, she could have sworn he and Malloy were identical—but that wasn’t possible, was it? Malloy hadn’t mentioned anything about having a twin, and she was fairly certain that he would have said something if he had a twin brother.

  “I’ve had one sip of beer. I can’t be seeing two of you,” she protested.

  “Oh, but you can,” the man bending next to her assured Kristin with a wicked grin. “Because there are two of us. I’m the better-looking one, of course. Or should I say the best-looking one?” This time, the question was directed to Malloy.

  “You shouldn’t be saying either,” Malloy told him matter-of-factly, “because you’re not. You’re lucky Dad didn’t drown you when you were born. Legend has it that they used to do that with the ugly ones.”

  “See,” his brother said, his attention back on Kristin, “if he doesn’t have a story to fit the occasion, he’ll make one up. That’s always been a failing of his, that sad sense of competition.” He shook his head, as if he actually felt pity for Malloy.

  “You’re his brother, aren’t you?” she concluded. It wasn’t a guess, but she had yet to hear a name, or any indication that they weren’t just identical-looking cousins.

  Bryce Cavanaugh lifted his mug in a toast to his brother. “Found yourself a bright one this time I see. Good work, little brother.”

  She should have gone with her first instincts. Maybe coming here was a mistake after all. “He didn’t ‘find’ me. We just work together.”

  Bryce looked around the room, his implication clear. They were here after hours. Under no circumstances could Malone’s fit under the heading she was citing.

  “Nice work,” he pronounced, the same wicked smile tugging his lips.

  Since his brother wasn’t leaving, Malloy knew he had to make introductions. “Doc, this annoying character is my brother, Bryce. Say goodbye to the nice lady, Bryce,” he ordered his brother.

  Bryce rose back up to his feet, holding his beer mug remarkably steady. “Want to keep her all to yourself, do you, little brother?” Bryce gave her one final once-over. “Can’t blame you, but good luck with this crowd,” he advised.

  Turning, he saw the bartender approaching with the two cheeseburgers that Malloy had ordered. “Hey, if that’s your idea of wining and dining, she’s going to bail on you, little brother, and I couldn’t blame her.” He bent over to get in closer to Kristin and advised, “Hold out for something better, Doc.”

  With that, Bryce made his exit.

  “Sorry about that.” Malloy managed to get in the simple words of apology just as Sal placed a plate in front of each of them.

  “My cheeseburgers are nothing to apologize for,” Salvatore said, pretending to be indignant.

  “I was apologizing for my brother,” Malloy told the older man.

  Sal nodded his head knowingly. “Hey, can’t pick your family. But if I could, I’d take yours in a heartbeat over some of the other families I’ve come across. At least yours isn’t dysfunctional. You don’t get to really appreciate that,” he told Kristin, “until you get to experience it firsthand.

  “Okay, I’ll leave you to your dinner.” And then the bartender looked at Kristin as he said, “Enjoy.”

  The next second, he was hurrying off to get behind the bar again.

  Malloy’s attention shifted back to the woman he’d brought here. She’d been a pretty good sport so far, but he didn’t want to push it if Kristin felt out of place.

  “Look, we could get that to go if being here is making you uncomfortable,” he offered.

  It was an offer she hadn’t expected him to make, and she wondered if he’d said it just for show, or if he actually meant it. If it was the latter—and she had to admit she was leaning toward that—she would have to reevaluate her opinion of Malloy. He wasn’t nearly as self-absorbed as she’d first thought.

  “Not uncomfortable,” she corrected. “Shell-shocked, maybe, but not uncomfortable.”

  “Shell-shocked?” Malloy questioned, not really sure what she meant.

  Kristin nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many Cavanaughs gathered together in one place before. Takes a bit of getting used to,” she confessed.

  For one thing, a great many of them looked more than just passingly similar, both in build and in coloring. It would take being around them for a while to begin to tell them apart—and she had no intention of doing that.

  Her comment had Malloy looking around himself, as if seeing his siblings and cousins for the first time. And then he laughed.

  “This is nothing. You should see what it’s like at one of Andrew’s parties. There’s nothing but wall-to-wall Cavanaughs then—if you don’t count the civilians.”

  “The civilians?” The term gave her pause. “You mean people who don’t belong to the police force?”

  “No, people who don’t officially belong to the family—yet,” he added with a smile, thinking of the last two men that had gotten tangled up with his sisters. It was only a matter of time before they, too, were family.

  “Is that your way of saying that the people in your family are just irresistible?”

  “No, that’s my way of just stating facts.” Thinking it safer, he switched topics. “How’s your cheeseburger?” He nodded at what was left in her hands.

  She hadn’t realized that she’d picked the cheeseburger up and had started eating. The problem was that when she was nervous and there was any food around, she ate it. Ate it without really even tasting it sometimes.

  Kristin raised her eyes to his, startled by the realization. He made her nervous enough to eat. This was a real problem.

  He kept watching her. And then she remembered he’d asked her a question. He was probably waiting for some kind of an answer. Being here like this with him made her feel as if her brain was sleepwalking.

  She’d graduated high school a year early, graduated from medical school on an accelerated program and she knew for certain that she was at the top of her game when it came to her work. But being around Malloy Cavanaugh scrambled her brain for some reason, making her feel as if she had the IQ of an under-watered potted plant.

  Get a grip, Kris. So he’s sexy and good-looking, so what? Just skin and genes, no big deal. It’s not like he did anything special to get to look that way.

  “Good,” she heard herself saying, referring to the cheeseburger. “Actually, better than good.”

  Malloy smiled, satisfied. “Told you.”

  Well, she couldn’t very well deny that, Kristin thought. After all, he had recommended the fare. “Yes, you did.”

  Malloy made no effort to hide his pleasure. “Since you’re being so accommodating, maybe the next time Andrew throws a party, you’d like to come by to see what it’s like for yourself.”

  She had heard stories, good-natured, feel-good stories, about the parties thrown by the senior Cavanaugh. And one of the driving forces behind those stories.

  “Malloy,” she began pointedly, “I’m not some lone wolf that has to be socialized. I have a large family that is forever trying to fix me up with someone. I love them dearly, but, well, there are times when even the morgue isn’t quiet enough for me. Does that make any sense to you?”

  Not that it mattered, she silently added, because whether or not he understood, she had no intentions of becoming some kind of a cultivation project for him or any of the other Cavanaughs. If she wasn’t willing to be one for her mother, she certainly wasn’t going to be one for one of his family.

  “That makes infinite sense,” Malloy told her honestly. “I know exactly what you’re talking about. It’s like every wedding that takes place in the family just makes them hungry for another one. I’m surprised that Uncle Andrew hasn’t started looking for someone for my dad.” He laughed, knowing that the
motivating factor, at least in his family, was love. His entire family meddled, and it was all due to a sense of love. Which made it just that much harder to fight. But he intended to. “It’s as if there’s some unwritten law that no Cavanaugh can remain single indefinitely.”

  Kristin suddenly laughed.

  “What?”

  “Maybe your Uncle Andrew thinks of himself as a modern day Noah, sending everyone off two by two.” So saying, she thought about what Malloy had told her about his family earlier. “Does your dad like being single?”

  Though he came from a close-knit family, his father wasn’t the type for long, soul-baring talks—or short ones, either.

  “He doesn’t say anything,” Malloy answered, “but I get the feeling that he hates it.”

  Kristin nodded. “That’s just like my mother. I know that she misses my father like crazy even though she’s not alone by any stretch of the imagination. My grandmother lives with her, and there’s always someone coming or going in the house, like her sisters and my cousins. Plus there’s a small bunch of grandnieces and nephews to occupy her time—but all she can focus on when I see her is when am I going to get married and make her a grandmother. I don’t think she realizes that that’s liable to just drive me away.”

  “You could bring her to one of Andrew’s get-togethers to distract her,” he suggested, finishing his beer.

  Kristin rolled the offer over in her head. Turnabout just might be fair play in this case, she mused. Maybe being subjected to something like that would finally make her mother cease and desist trying to match her up with her “soul mate.”

  “Maybe,” she said, letting the matter drop for now.

  He found the word very hopeful. He’d made progress with the ice princess. “Maybe” was a great deal better than a flat “no.”

  “Maybe,” he echoed, toasting the possibilities behind the word.

  Chapter 11

  Folding her used napkin and neatly placing it on her empty plate, she put the near-depleted mug of beer on top of it, then looked up at Malloy.

  “I’d better be going home,” Kristin told him, rising to her feet.

  Her limit was one beer. Anything more and she felt obligated to take a cab home, even though she had the ability to imbibe several without feeling its effects. It was far better in this case to be safe than sorry.

  “Okay,” Malloy said, rising himself. The check had already been taken care of, and he left a couple of bills now as a tip.

  Was this going to be a problem, she wondered. “Just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean you have to,” Kristin pointed out.

  “Yeah, I do,” Malloy replied, saying it as if it was a given.

  “Why?” she asked.

  They’d discussed coming here, but neither one of them had said anything about what was to happen after they’d had that drink he’d wanted to buy her. Served her right for letting her guard down.

  “Because I’m following you home,” Malloy told her simply.

  She should have known. Still, she really felt disappointed. He had been going up in her estimation, now he was back down to tomcat level.

  “Look, just because you sprang for a cheeseburger—which I offered to pay for twice,” she reminded him, “doesn’t mean that you—”

  “Have to follow you home to make sure that spare tire holds up to get you there?” he filled in quickly. “Yeah, I do.”

  That caught her off guard. “Wait—what?”

  “The tire I put on,” he reminded her. “Remember, you had a flat?”

  If he was talking down to her, he was really going to regret it, she thought fiercely.

  “You said it would last for fifty miles. I don’t live fifty miles from here,” she pointed out. She was still more than half convinced that he was just using this concerned Good Samaritan act as an excuse to follow her home and then talk his way into her house.

  “Ideally it should last for fifty miles,” he emphasized. “But if our line of work has taught us nothing else, it’s taught us that the world is not a perfect place where things go perfectly according to plan.”

  She wasn’t some dewy-eyed innocent, and she resented him treating her that way. “Well, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” she informed him in a no-nonsense voice.

  He glanced toward the window where he noticed sheets of rain coming down. “It’s still raining,” he pointed out.

  What did that have to do with anything? “And I don’t melt.”

  “It’s a lot easier to skid in the rain if you have a blow out,” he told her. “I’d still feel better knowing you got home safe. Look, if you’re worried about me being the one who follows you home, I can get Bryce to follow—or Kelly, if you prefer.”

  She paused for a moment, trying to connect the name to a person. “You mean your brother?”

  “Or my sister,” he added. “Take your pick.”

  “I don’t know either one of them,” she protested. The idea of asking a stranger to follow her seemed ridiculous.

  Malloy sighed. Nobody could accuse this woman of making things easy. “You don’t have to ‘know’ them, all you have to do is drive to your home. Safely,” he underscored. “They’d just be following to make sure that happens.”

  She scrutinized him, looking for some telltale sign that would give away his true intentions. She didn’t find any.

  “You’re serious?” she asked uncertainly.

  “As an autopsy,” he answered.

  Kristin frowned. “You could have picked a better simile.”

  The corners of his mouth slowly curved. She had difficulty looking away, even though she knew she really should.

  “I don’t think so,” he replied, his eyes shining with humor.

  Kristin sighed, giving in. The last thing she wanted to do was cause a scene here in the bar, and she had a feeling if she continued opposing him, this was going to wind up turning into a scene. He might not wind up losing his temper, but she had a feeling that she would.

  “You’re my penance, aren’t you?” It wasn’t a question, it was an accusation.

  “For what?” he asked, curious.

  “I don’t know, but it must have been something really bad I’m blocking out,” she told him, giving up. “Okay, you can follow me home.” Kristin’s eyes narrowed as she told him in no uncertain terms, “But I am not inviting you inside.”

  “Didn’t ask you to,” he told her as they walked out of the bar.

  Their departure was noted and followed by more than a few pairs of eyes.

  Once outside, still standing beneath the bar’s eaves, Kristin opened her umbrella. “Once we get to my car,” she told him, raising her voice to be heard above the noise generated by the wind and the rain, “you can take the umbrella to where you parked.”

  Malloy had no comment one way or another. With his hand beneath her elbow to guide her, they made their way together to the first row of vehicles where Kristin had parked.

  When she opened her door and slid into her seat, she offered the umbrella to Malloy.

  “You hang on to it,” he told her. “And wait for me to pull up before you take off.”

  “Take it,” she insisted, thrusting the umbrella handle at him.

  But Malloy had already taken off, running, without it.

  “He has got to be the most infuriating man,” Kristin muttered under her breath as she tossed her umbrella onto the passenger seat.

  By the time she had buckled up, put her key into the ignition and turned on her lights, she saw the headlights of Malloy’s car as he approached her row.

  “Boy, that man moves really fast,” she murmured to herself, then laughed dryly. “But then, we already knew that.”

  Backing out of her parking space, Kristin drove out of the lot. />
  She told herself she wasn’t going to, but she wound up glancing up into the rearview mirror a number of times to assure herself he was still there.

  Why she even did that, she hadn’t a clue. She was certain that he wasn’t about to lose her. Undoubtedly, Malloy had a great deal of practice following women to a variety of destinations. The man was probably part bloodhound.

  The unexpected rain made traveling the slick streets less than smooth. She’d noticed that whenever it did rain, California drivers did one of two things, they crawled as if fearing that doing anything over thirty miles an hour would lead to their certain, untimely death. Or they flew, traveling well over the speed limit in an effort to outrace both death and raindrops.

  Either way, traveling on freeways and thoroughfares during the rain was definitely a challenge.

  But finally, it was over, and she was pulling into the driveway of her modest, two-bedroom townhouse. Kristin hit her garage door opener although she would have really preferred to keep the house sealed up until she could watch Malloy’s car drive past her home and off to his.

  Parking in the garage, she got out of the vehicle just in time to see Malloy pulling up behind her and then parking his vehicle.

  Damn.

  She held her breath, waiting and watching him. Now what?

  For a brief second, she thought about closing the garage door and just going into the house. But his car was positioned so that the nose of his hood was in the direct path of the garage door’s descent. If it detected anything in its way, the door’s safety feature wouldn’t allow it to come down and crush something.

  Besides, abruptly closing the garage door would be running, and she didn’t run. She sent others running—and if he made just one wrong move, Detective Malloy Cavanaugh was going to be joining that group shortly, she promised herself.

  She never took her eyes off him as he came closer.

  “Yes? Did you forget to say something?” The way she asked, she was clearly issuing a challenge to him, daring him to say anything in his own defense rather than just getting back into his car.