Amen to that. But he wasn't about to make noises like a grieving woman after the last of her children had moved out. It just wasn't manly. "Ever think I might want to be alone?"
Andrew shook his head. "No. You're too much like me. Let's face it, we're family men, not lone wolves."
The description struck a chord. "Like Mike?" Brian asked.
Their middle brother, killed on the job years ago, had been the different one, the one who had been out of step with the rest of them. A policeman, as well, he spent his life living in the shadow of both his older brother and his younger one, never finding a place for himself other than in a bottle. And never learning to appreciate the two young souls he'd help bring into the world. Andrew'd had more to do with raising Patience and Patrick even when Mike was alive than Mike did.
"Mike couldn't help being what he was."
There, they had a difference of opinion. Andrew was being too lax. "Everyone can help being what they are. You can't help being tall, or right-handed, but you can do something about what you feel inside."
"Fascinating," Andrew declared with feeling as he slipped his arm around his brother's shoulder. "Why don't you elaborate on that, say, over dinner? Really," he added seriously, "I hate thinking of you rattling around in this place night after night, standing over the sink or sitting in front of the TV, eating out of a can—"
"Take-out," Brian corrected. "I eat take-out food."
Andrew shuddered. "Even worse." He played his ace card. "I've got a pot roast waiting. It's got your name on it."
Brian laughed. "You know, the sad thing is, I don't doubt that. I can just see you carving my name into it."
"Why would I bother to lie, especially since I outrank you?"
"You can't outrank me. You're the 'former' police chief, remember? You retired."
Andrew hit the back of Brian's head with the flat of his hand, as if to knock some sense into him. "I'm talking about in the family hierarchy."
Brian rubbed the back of his head more for show than out of any sense of injury. "You always did have a way with words."
"And pot roast."
"And pot roast," Andrew agreed, following his brother out the door.
* * *
Chapter 4
« ^ »
Dinner turned out to be just the two of them. Rose was out with her daughters and daughters-in-law for a rare ladies' night out. Brian had a feeling that his brother would have probably preferred a ladies' night in instead. After all that he had been through, raising his family on his own and always searching for news of Rose, Andrew deserved to reap the rewards of his efforts.
But this gave them a chance to just kick back and talk. After the pot roast had been served and devoured, Andrew felt their "talk" hadn't become substantive enough.
Picking up the last of the dishes, Andrew deposited them into the dishwasher. He took his drink of choice— whiskey—and two shot glasses from the cupboard and placed them on the coffee table between them. He poured two fingers' worth into each glass and nudged Brian's over to him. Brian nodded as he raised the glass to his lips.
Andrew waited until the first sharp jolt had worked its way down his brother's throat and spread its unique band of fire. "Okay, what's up?"
Brian narrowed his eyes. "What's up with what?"
"My question exactly," Andrew said.
Amusement caused Brian to arch one eyebrow as he continued studying his brother. He took another sip of the whiskey. Damn, but it had kick to it. "You've been sniffing your spices again, Drew. You're not making any sense."
Andrew tossed back his own drink, then set the glass down beside the cut-glass decanter, a gift from his two oldest on his forty-fifth birthday. "All right, I'll spell it out for you. I know my pot roast is out of this world, but it never made you grin from ear to ear like a goofy schoolboy before."
Brian laughed shortly. "And you wonder why I don't come over more often."
"Stop stalling. I raised five kids, I ran a large precinct, I know when something's up. Spill it."
Because there were times that he liked controlling the situation, even when his brother was involved, Brian studied his shot glass for a moment. He decided to take the long way around the answer just to drive Andrew crazy. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for his older brother, but that didn't mean he liked having him nosing around in his business.
"I won't be available for dinner tomorrow night."
That was already a given. "Not that I figured you'd come here twice in two days without being forcibly escorted, but you're not going to be available because... ?" Andrew's voice trailed off as he waited for his brother to finish the sentence.
Brian finished the last of his drink instead. When Andrew raised the decanter to refill his glass again, he shook his head. One was his limit unless he was staying over. "I'll be eating dinner elsewhere."
Andrew set the decanter down again after giving himself just one finger's worth. "Where, damn it?"
Brian deliberately assumed an innocent expression. "At a restaurant."
Andrew's steely blue-gray eyes bore into his. "Not alone?"
Brian's expression never changed. "Not alone."
Andrew blew out a breath. When necessary, he could be the most patient of people, extracting information at the rate of a single syllable a minute. But this was not one of those times.
He scowled at his younger brother. "I still have my service revolver somewhere," he reminded Brian. When he'd gone in for early retirement to take care of his then motherless children, the powers that be at the police department had allowed him to keep his weapon out of respect for his selfless service to the force and the people of Aurora. "Don't make me shoot you. Who are you not being alone with?"
Brian did his best not to laugh at the twisted sentence. "Lila Mclntyre." Now that the information was out, he expected Andrew to say something like, "Finally" or "Thank God." His older brother had been after him to start seeing women the moment Rose came back into his own life. With all the Cavanaugh offspring married off, getting him together with someone had become almost a crusade for the self-appointed patriarch.
So when Brian saw a thoughtful frown forming on Andrew's face, he was more than a little surprised.
"What's the matter, am I ruining some kind of dinner plans you had for the family?" When Andrew threw a party, family attendance was mandatory. Andrew accepted few excuses, insisting that whatever other plans were in the offing could keep. Back when their children were still in the dating stages of their lives, Andrew would invite whoever they were seeing at the time to the party, as well.
No one was able to say no to Andrew and make it stick.
Andrew set aside his drink. He leaned forward, his expression devoid of any humor. This was serious. "You know that there were rumors going around at the time that she killed Ben and actually staged that thing with the drug cartel to make it look as if it was a revenge killing."
While it was happening, they'd never discussed either Ben or Lila, never even broached the subject. Brian always assumed it was because Andrew was being thoughtful of his feelings, knowing that he and Lila had a bond.
Brian's voice gave away nothing. "I'm aware of the rumors."
Andrew nodded, his eyes searching his brother's face for things left unsaid. "Just so you know."
He couldn't live with himself if he just let it drop here. Did Andrew actually believe that Lila was capable of murder? Was he serious?
"I also know that they can't possibly be true." He thought of Ben, of the animosity the man generated. Lila remained loyal, never complaining about her husband, but he'd picked up on things and knew there were problems. "Not that the bastard didn't deserve it."
"No argument," Andrew agreed, "but don't let anyone else hear you say that."
Brian suddenly felt the need for another drink, a stiff one, but then he'd have to wait to go home and he needed to be leaving soon. "Ben Mclntyre was a bully and everyone knew it. If he hadn't been killed, Internal Affai
rs was set to have him investigated." He took a breath. He didn't want to waste time talking about a man he'd never liked. But he didn't want Andrew thinking badly of his old partner. She deserved better. "Lila was my partner and I trusted her with my life every day we clocked in together. I wouldn't have done that if she wasn't stable."
Andrew's eyes held his. "Even stable people kill when pushed too far." They both knew that. Everyone had a breaking point. And, off the record, God knew she'd put up with a lot from Ben.
Brian tried to lighten the mood. "So what are you saying, I should bring my service revolver to dinner with me in case she has a fit?"
Andrew spread his hands wide. "I just don't want you putting blinders on."
Okay now Andrew was talking in riddles, Brian thought. "Blinders?"
"Yes, blinders," he repeated. "Because you care about her."
Brian balked. "Of course I care about her. She was my partner for six years."
Andrew looked at him knowingly. They both knew what he was talking about, even if Brian didn't want to admit it. "There's more to it than that and you know it."
Just what was it that Andrew was implying? Back then, Lila was married and so was he. Neither one of them ever cheated on their vows. "Nothing ever happened between us."
"I didn't say it did. But it could have," Andrew added quietly. "And nobody would have blamed either one of you."
Brian looked away. "I liked you better when you were pushing pot roast."
"Sorry." The word rang flat, devoid of any feeling, because Andrew wasn't sorry that he cared. It was just the way things were. "I worry about you. Comes with the territory."
"Yeah, yeah." Brian knew his brother meant well. He supposed he was just being edgy—and protective of Lila. "Next time around, I'm volunteering to be the oldest."
Andrew laughed shortly. "Good luck with that." Brian rose and he rose with him. "And don't get me wrong, I like Lila. I just want you to be aware of all the facts."
"All the rumors," Brian corrected as he began to walk toward the front door. "Not facts, rumors. Nothing was ever proven," he reminded Andrew. "Not even that Ben was a dirty cop. He was undercover when he died, remember? Much as I didn't like the guy, we both know that being undercover sometimes means doing things you wouldn't normally do or want to do to avoid blowing your cover."
Andrew paused before the door. "They never found the money that was meant for the buy, either."
"No, they didn't. Since both Ben and his partner were found executed, my guess is that someone else took it. Someone who engineered the whole 'dirty cop' tempest to throw everyone else off the trail. Nobody found any proof that Ben was on the take," he said, being fair even though he would have rather left the man's character painted in black strokes. "No offshore bank accounts in his name, no extravagant purchases, nothing to make him look guilty."
"Walker was," Andrew recalled. A minor drug dealer had stepped forward soon after Ben's partner's body had been found, pointing a finger at the dead detective.
Brian hated the fact that he was actually defending Lila's late husband. But in all honesty, he couldn't do anything else until evidence to the contrary came to light.
"Dean Walker was Ben's partner, but that doesn't mean that Ben was dirty by association." The subject left a bad taste in his mouth. Time to close it. "We've been through that kind of garbage ourselves. I'm almost fifty years old, Drew. I don't need a big brother looking after me. I need a friend."
"Sorry, but it's a package deal." And this time, Andrew smiled. "I'll see what I can do about restraining the brother thing. Say, I've got an idea, why don't you bring Lila here? I've just found this really exotic recipe for—"
"No. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not have my date interrogated."
Andrew's eyes crinkled. "So, it's a date, not just dinner and catching up."
Brian swung open the door and stepped over the threshold. "Good night, Andrew. Thanks for the pot roast."
Andrew laughed. It was good spending time with just Brian. He was glad he'd gone out of his way to bring him over. "Good night, Brian."
Brian was already making his way down the driveway. "And give my sympathy to Rose when she gets home," he tossed over his shoulder. "How she puts up with you is more than I can understand."
"It's because I'm so charming," Andrew called after him.
Brian waved his hand over his head, dismissing Andrew's claim without bothering to turn around. "Yeah, right."
* * * * *
The mascara brush slipped from her fingers. For the second time.
Lila sighed as she bent to pick it up again. This was silly. Why in heaven's name was she so nervous? She was just going to have a simple dinner with an old friend, that's all. A night out for a change instead of sitting at home in front of the television set, stroking Duchess's head as she watched a forgettable program.
If this was just a simple dinner, why were there five different outfits spread out on her bed, haphazardly discarded one by one as she found something wrong with each one?
Stepping back from the bureau, she retired the mascara brush and surveyed herself.
All wrong.
With determination, she returned to her closet and dug into the recesses one more time. She pulled out an aqua-colored dress and held it against herself. It had possibilities, she decided as she quickly stripped off the two-piece outfit she was currently wearing. The skirt pooled at her feet and she kicked it aside. The pullover was next.
More than likely, Brian wouldn't even notice what she was wearing. Men didn't notice that about women her age. Their attention only perked up when they were in the vicinity of some nubile twenty-year-olds.
Brian wasn't like that, she silently insisted, looking herself over with a critical eye. Brian noticed things, noticed details. It was what had made him such a damn good detective.
She frowned. Maybe she should go back to the first outfit. Oh God. Her head jerked around toward the sound she heard. Was that him?
Someone was ringing her doorbell.
He was early.
Quickly, Lila scooped up all the clothes from her bed and jammed them into the closet. She'd worry about hanging them up later.
Earrings, she needed earrings. Or earring, she amended, realizing that she'd put one on and then gotten distracted from putting on the second one.
She plucked it from the bureau and quickly slipped on her shoes. The back of her left shoe didn't quite make it on, but she was already hurrying down the stairs.
Duchess, who'd been privy to her frantic search through her wardrobe, now clattered down the carpeted stairs right behind her, determined to discover what had sent her mistress into such an uncustomary tizzy.
"I thought you said seven," Lila protested as she pulled open the front door, her heart insisting on going into double-time.
Instead of Brian on her doorstep, there was just empty space.
"Brian?" But even as she said his name, she could feel a tightness beginning in her throat. A premonition, like the old days. Like the one she'd had just before she'd taken that bullet that had probably been meant for Brian.
Taking a step out onto the welcome mat, Lila looked both left and then right. And saw no one.
The uneasiness that found her each time she received one of those silent phone calls descended on her. In spades.
Was it the same person? Had he escalated what he was doing?
Why was someone doing this? Was he—or she— trying to drive her out of the house?
Or out of her mind?
Maybe she should consider selling the house. Rita Nunez, someone she knew from the precinct back in the old days, had approached her with an offer just a couple of weeks ago. Maybe she'd been too hasty, turning her down. After all, she'd always said that once the children were gone, having this much space would depress her.
No, this was her home and she was staying. This way, there was always enough room if the kids decided they wanted to stay over, like at Christmas.
Back across the threshold again, she closed the door firmly and then, after a beat, looked down at the animal who had remained silently inside the house when she'd looked around outside.
"Falling down on the job, Duchess? You're supposed to bark when strangers come to the door, not sit there like a big stuffed animal."
As if in response, Duchess suddenly began barking in earnest, her attention focused on the front door.
"Now you're barking." Lila threw up her hands. But the dog continued, making her pause. "Is there someone at the door, girl?"
The next second, the doorbell rang and Lila nearly jumped out of her skin. Duchess barked louder. Lila hurried over to the bookcase where she kept her service revolver. Taking it out of the holster and flipping off the safety, she crossed back to the front door just in time to hear the doorbell again.
Braced, she swung the door open with one hand, her gun, ready to use, in the other.
This time, she wasn't looking into the empty air or the face of a malevolent stranger.
Brian stood on her doorstep, warily eyeing the weapon pointed at his chest.
"Change your mind about dinner?" he quipped.
Lila exhaled a loud sigh of relief, the rigid tension melting from her body. She retired the hammer on her gun and put the safety back on.
Motioning him in, she turned away and crossed back to the bookcase. "I thought you were someone else."
Obviously not someone she wanted to see, he thought. "Who?"
Returning the gun to its holster, she tucked it away and turned around to look at Brian. "That's just it, I don't know. My anonymous caller," she guessed. She knew she sounded as if she was babbling and backtracked. "Just before you came, there was someone at the door. They rang the bell."
Brian hadn't seen anyone just now when he pulled up, but then, he hadn't been looking for anyone, either. "And?"
Lila shrugged helplessly. "They were gone by the time I opened it. Just like with the telephone." She looked up at him to see if he thought she was crazy.
Cavanaugh Heat Page 4