Cavanaugh Cold Case

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Yes.”

  He didn’t want to say any more than that until he saw her. Sometimes, his older brother, Duncan, had taught him, you could learn more from the way someone said something than from what he or she said.

  “All right, I’ll wait for you,” the woman agreed. “How soon can you get here?”

  Malloy glanced at his mileage. “I’m about fifteen minutes away. Where can I meet you?”

  “I’ll wait for you in front of Paul Klapper Library,” Rachel replied, apparently assuming that he was as familiar with the campus as she was. “There’re several benches out front,” she went on. “We can talk there.”

  “Public place,” Kristin commented once he terminated the call. He’d had it on speakerphone. “Did you frighten her last time?” she asked, curious.

  “I doubt it.” He took a left turn at the end of the block. “I’m harmless.”

  Kristin refrained from laughing, but not from commenting. “You, Cavanaugh, were never harmless. Not even when you were born.”

  He eased to a stop at the light and spared her a look. “Why, Doc? Do I frighten you?” he asked.

  “Just making an observation,” Kristin answered evasively.

  He tabled that for a future discussion. They were almost at the campus. “Right now I need you to pull up a map on my GPS and locate Paul Klapper Library on the UCA campus.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “You don’t know where it is?”

  “Not offhand,” he admitted. He was catching all the lights now, and the entrance to the campus was coming up soon. “I found the administration building. I didn’t memorize the layout of the entire campus.”

  “So you didn’t go to UCA?” Kristin concluded in surprise.

  “I’m not a local boy, no.”

  “I thought all the Cavanaughs were local.”

  “Most of them are, but some of us came from Shady Canyon,” he told her, mentioning a city some fifty miles away. He could see that she had more questions. “Long story. Maybe I’ll tell it to you some time—after we solve this case.”

  “You say it like it’s a sure thing.”

  “What? Solving the case or my telling you the story?”

  This time, she did laugh. “Both.”

  “That’s because I only know how to approach things one way,” he explained. “From a positive perspective. The college is coming up just ahead,” he told her, interrupting himself. “Which way do I turn?”

  Caught up in the conversation, Kristin barely had time to type in the school’s address and then enlarge the map that materialized.

  “Left,” she said quickly. “Make a left at the end of the winding road.”

  Because of the last minute instruction, the turn he made was sharp—and jarring. It wasn’t the way he normally drove.

  “Remind me not to let you navigate next time,” he said dryly as he pulled into an empty space some distance away from the actual library.

  “What makes you think there’ll be a next time?” Kristin challenged cryptically, unbuckling her seat belt.

  He slanted just the briefest glance her way. “Just a hunch.”

  The mild answer got under her skin for more reasons than just one.

  Without another word, Malloy got out of the vehicle and hurried up the handful of stairs that took him from the compact parking lot to the front of the library. Kristin was right behind him.

  Rachel McNeil was sitting on the bench closest to the stairs. The moment she saw him, she instantly rose to her feet.

  “Was I right?” the slender, conservatively dressed woman asked before he had even reached her. “Was Zoe one of the bodies you found with Abby’s?”

  Before he answered her, Malloy took a moment to make the necessary introductions. “Doc, this is Professor Rachel McNeil. Professor, this is Dr. Alberghetti. She’s the medical examiner who matched Zoe Roberts’s dental X-rays to one of the bodies we found.”

  Rachel covered her mouth. A tiny sound of dismay still managed to escape. For just a moment, the years melted away from her face, and she was an undergraduate again.

  “I knew it. I had a feeling. I just had a feeling they wouldn’t have just run off that way,” she said to Malloy. “Especially not Zoe. She was determined to prove herself.”

  Malloy studied the woman for a moment. “I thought you said you didn’t know either of them that well,” Malloy said as they all sat down on the stone bench.

  Kristin sat down next to him and edged out a little in order to have a better view of the woman they had come to question as well as notify.

  “I didn’t, really,” Rachel explained. “But we studied together in the library. That library,” she emphasized, indicating the building behind them. “It was a lot smaller back then,” she remarked. “A few of us would get together to study and pick each other’s brains before tests. Zoe was always the most intense, even though she was like a walking encyclopedia.”

  Malloy took out a small, well-creased notepad and a pen from his pocket. “Can you remember any of the other people in the study group?” he asked Rachel, opening the notepad.

  But she shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. That was two decades ago. I just remember Abby because of that police detective who came to the campus to question us. And Zoe because she was so sure something bad had happened to Abby. She said she was going to go looking for her—”

  “Did she say where she was going to look?” Kristin asked.

  Rachel shook her head again. “I was going out with this junior, and I didn’t pay any attention. Not until Zoe went missing, too.” She sighed. It was obvious that she felt somehow responsible because she hadn’t been paying attention. “That’s something that stays with you,” she added quietly.

  “You just mentioned a police detective,” Malloy said. “Do you remember his name?”

  Rachel thought for a moment. “Monahan or Mulroney, something like that.” She offered an apologetic smile.

  Malloy made a notation. The name was easy enough to obtain. The investigative detective would be a matter of record.

  “You just mentioned a boyfriend,” Kristin said, picking up on the woman’s narrative. “Do you remember if either Abby or Zoe had a boyfriend?”

  This, Rachel seemed rather clear on. “All Zoe had time for were her books—and Abby,” she added. “I had the impression that Zoe didn’t have any friends, and from what I heard, she latched on to Abby when they hit it off as freshmen.”

  “Did Abby have any boyfriends?” Malloy asked, following Kristin’s lead.

  Rachel thought for a moment. It was obvious she was attempting to remember that far back. “I saw her talking to this guy a few times, but I wouldn’t have called him her boyfriend.”

  Any crumb was better than none. “Do you remember his name?” Malloy asked. So far, it didn’t seem as if names were Rachel’s long suit.

  By the frustrated expression on her face, she really tried to remember the student’s name—and failed.

  “Sorry.” But she did have something to offer. “I do remember he was in her botany class, or some class that had to do with plant life. I remember thinking that was kind of odd because most guys that age weren’t into things like growing plants—except maybe the kind they could smoke. Abby did say that he’d told her that he was only taking the class to please his father, because the old man was really into plants.”

  Nodding, Malloy made another notation. “Anything else?”

  But Rachel shook her head. “Sorry. That’s all I can remember.” She hesitated for a moment, then timidly asked, “They didn’t suffer, did they?” She paused, as if the words were sticking in her throat. “Abby and Zoe, they didn’t suffer when they died, did they?”

  “Death was instantaneous,” Kristin told her, quickly answering the woman’s question bef
ore Malloy had the chance.

  Rachel exhaled a shaky breath. “I’m glad. I mean, I’m not glad that they died,” she corrected quickly, “but if they did die, I’m glad they weren’t tortured.” She pressed her lips together. “Am I making any sense?” she asked the couple.

  “Yes,” Kristin answered with understanding.

  “Here’s my card,” Malloy said, handing it to Rachel. “It has my cell number on it as well as my work line. If you can remember anything else, anything at all, call me,” he instructed.

  Rachel nodded. “I will.”

  They left the college professor still sitting on the bench in front of the library, looking at Malloy’s card.

  It wasn’t until they were back in his car and he had buckled up that he turned to Kristin and said, “You didn’t tell me that death was instantaneous.”

  “That’s because I don’t know,” she admitted, securing her own seat belt.

  He put his key into the ignition. Her actions caused questions to arise in his mind.

  “But you just told that professor it was instantaneous. Did you lie?” He wouldn’t have thought her capable of that, no matter what the reason. The woman was obviously a lot more complicated than she seemed to be at first.

  Rather than look at Malloy, Kristin stared straight ahead. “I told her what she needed to hear. Why should she have to suffer visualizing images of those two young women having their last breaths wrenched from them? It’s better if she just believes that they died quickly and painlessly. There’s no need for the woman to torture herself.”

  Starting the car, he pulled out. “You’re a fraud, Dr. Alberghetti. You do realize that, don’t you?”

  Kristin instantly took offense. “What are you talking about?” she demanded.

  His mouth curved. “You pretend to be this tough, hard-nosed woman, but on the inside, Doc, you’re just this big softie.”

  Was he mocking her? “I wouldn’t go betting the farm on that.”

  “I don’t need to,” he told her. “I just witnessed it with my very own eyes. Don’t be embarrassed, Doc,” he told her. “You just did a good thing. I like it.”

  Did he think that was the only thing that mattered to her? His approval? “And I don’t care what you like,” she retorted.

  She heard him laugh softly under his breath. “If you say so.”

  She’d never met anyone who could make her so angry so fast. “Yes, I say so.”

  “Uh-huh.” He kept his eyes on the road, as did she, but she could hear a smile in his voice.

  She opened her mouth to say something twice, and shut it twice. There was no point in talking to the man. He had a gift for twisting words.

  Dead silence accompanied them the rest of the way back.

  Chapter 14

  “Can I come?”

  Malloy looked at the woman in his passenger seat quizzically. Not a single word had passed between them for almost ten minutes, constituting the rest of the ride from the UCA campus back to the police precinct. And then, just as he had pulled into one of the numerous spaces available in the lot at this late time of the day, Kristin had suddenly deigned to ask a question.

  A rather obscure question at that, as far as Malloy was concerned.

  “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, Doc,” he told her as he pulled up his hand brake. “Come where?”

  Taking a short breath, Kristin began from the beginning of her request.

  “When you go to interview the detective who investigated Abby Sullivan’s disappearance, can I come with you?”

  Kristin was well aware of the fact that Cavanaugh was within his rights to refuse to let her come along. After all, she was a medical examiner, not a police detective. But at this point of the investigation, she really felt invested in this cold case they were piecing together, and waiting on the sidelines for Cavanaugh to get in contact with her with any bits and pieces of information he found was frustrating as well as totally unacceptable, as far as she was concerned. Aside from the remains that had been dug up at the nursery—remains that were still waiting to be identified—things at the morgue had ground to a halt. She really had nothing to do at the moment now that the last autopsy was completed for that unrelated case. That gave her the option to go out into the field if the opportunity to do so suddenly came up—and it most obviously had.

  “It’s late. I’m not going today,” he told her, evading her question.

  Kristin was not about to be sidelined. “I rather thought you wouldn’t, but when you do go, I’d like to come with you.” She decided to skip asking for his blessings outright.

  “And I’d like to be police chief,” he replied flippantly, “but we don’t always get what we want.” Getting out of the car, he looked at Kristin over the roof of his vehicle. Her expression looked stern to him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t.” Didn’t he know that by now? “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but it’s hard for me to ask for a favor.”

  He laughed dryly. “Oh, I’ve noticed.” He paused, playing the moment out a tiny bit longer. “All right, once I find out who the investigating detective was, I’ll let you know.”

  This was all before his time. Twenty years ago, he was just entering middle school and setting his sights on Jenny Gallo, an eighth grader.

  “The man’s definitely retired from the force by now—for all we know, he might be dead or living somewhere in the Caribbean—but if he’s breathing and accessible, I’ll let you know,” he promised. And then he smiled. “Now you have to do something for me, Doc.”

  “What?” she asked warily.

  The guarded tone in her voice did not go unnoticed. “Are you always going to look at me as if you expect me to drag you into an alley and have my way with you?”

  “I know you wouldn’t drag me into some alley and have your way with me.”

  “Thank you for that.”

  “Because I know martial arts.”

  He raised a quizzical eyebrow. “And that’s the only reason?”

  “No,” she told him rather flatly. “You don’t drag, you seduce.” She drew a breath. “But I still know martial arts.”

  He laughed, getting a kick out of the fact that she never gave up. “Fair enough, I guess.”

  “What was it?” she asked him suddenly.

  “What was what?” Malloy asked, locking his car’s doors. He’d lost the thread of whatever it was that she was saying.

  She pressed her lips together, certain he was deliberately drawing this out for his own enjoyment. “The ‘something’ you wanted me to do for you.”

  Again he paused, aware that she was building this up in her mind, not knowing what to anticipate. And then he said simply, “I was going to ask you if you felt like grabbing a bite to eat with me after we clocked out. I could use the company.”

  She wasn’t sure if she believed him. There had to be more. “And that’s it?”

  “Yeah.” And then his eyes shone with humor. “Unless you want to top off the evening with hot sex after dinner.”

  “No.” She said the word so quickly, he could have felt the breeze it created.

  “Then grabbing a bite to eat it is,” he announced simply.

  Cavanaugh was assuming things again. The detective seemed to really enjoy wrenching control out of her hands, she couldn’t help thinking. “When did I say yes?” she asked.

  “Well, I didn’t hear ‘no,’” Malloy countered.

  Kristin frowned. He had her there. “I guess you have a point.”

  The wicked smile was back.

  “I usually do.” Malloy glanced at his watch, doing a quick calculation. “I clock out in less than half an hour. You?”

  Kristin didn’t need to look at her watch.
“I could already be gone if I wanted to be.”

  Malloy nodded. “All right, we’ll meet out here in half an hour. Any place special you want to go?” he asked, politely leaving the choice of the restaurant up to her.

  Kristin had nothing to offer. She didn’t frequent restaurants in general. She either prepared something on the simple side for herself at home or, more than likely, she either ate at her mother’s or had meals that her mother—on occasion her grandmother—had made and then sent home with her.

  Kristin shrugged. “Wherever you were going to go is fine.”

  “You’re on,” he told her as they walked into the precinct.

  * * *

  Against her better judgment—not because she didn’t want to, but because she did—half an hour later found her back in the parking lot, sitting in her car, waiting for Malloy to show up.

  When she saw him coming down the steps that led to the parking lot, her survival instincts made one last rather urgent plea for her to run.

  She didn’t.

  Instead, she got out of the car and waited for Malloy to cross to her.

  “Part of me didn’t think you’d show,” he told her honestly once he was close enough to her not to have to shout.

  “Part of me didn’t want to,” she freely admitted. “But I said I would, so here I am.”

  Malloy already knew that her word meant a great deal to her. It was one of the things he really liked about her.

  Glancing at the car she was leaning against, Malloy said, “I can drive us to the restaurant and then bring you back later.”

  She made him a counteroffer. “I can just as easily follow you to the restaurant, and when we’re done, we can both drive home—to our separate homes,” she emphasized deliberately.

  Malloy pretended to be wounded. “When are you going to trust me, Doc?”

  “When you make me feel safe,” Kristin answered without hesitation. “Right now, you make me feel like I’m walking on a tightrope stretched out across Niagara Falls on a very windy day.”

  His eyes held hers. His were unfathomable. “The smart thing to do in that case,” he told her, “would be not to walk the tightrope.”