“We lost a good man two weeks ago,” Brian stated bluntly.
“In the line of duty?” Esteban asked, sensing that the Chief of D’s was waiting for him to respond in some way.
“Out of the line of fire,” Brian quipped. “Detective First Class Ernest Lau made it to retirement age and the second he did, his wife insisted that he stop pressing his luck and leave the force.”
“What’s he planning to do?” Esteban asked, not because he was the least bit curious, but because he sensed that this, also, was expected of him. He had gotten to where he was—and lived to talk about it—because he had the instincts to intuit in most cases what was expected of him in either deeds or words.
“Not get shot at anymore, for one.”
The answer hadn’t come from the Chief of D’s, but from the woman crossing the threshold directly behind him. Esteban turned in his chair to glance at this newcomer walking into the Chief’s office.
It wasn’t Cavanaugh’s administrative assistant. He knew because he’d passed the woman when he’d initially entered the Chief’s office. He’d noted that she looked like an attractive, contained woman in her late forties. This woman walking in looked as if she’d just popped out of a Cracker Jack box a few seconds ago, and the experience had clearly invigorated her to go on popping.
How did she figure into this? Esteban wondered, even as he had the sinking feeling that maybe he really didn’t want to know the answer to that question.
She also looked the slightest bit familiar.
Had their paths crossed?
And if so, when?
How?
For the past three-plus years, he’d dealt strictly with people who either were the dregs of society or had dealt with the dregs of society on a regular basis.
If anything, this perky, peppy, blue-eyed blonde would fall into the second category. And yet...
And yet he wasn’t all that certain he knew her in that capacity, either.
Maybe he didn’t know her, Esteban decided a second later.
For now, he would let it be. If he did know her, well, then he’d find out soon enough one way or another. It was just that simple—and possibly, just that complicated. What it wasn’t was worth his time wondering about it.
“You sent for me, sir?” she asked genially, directing her question as well as her attention to the man behind the desk.
She was also doing her very best not to stare at the other man in the room.
Even so, she couldn’t shake the feeling of recognition that had instantly come over her.
That was Steve. It had to be, she thought.
If it wasn’t, then it was his doppelgänger. No one else she knew had hair like that, so black that it almost looked as if it had steel-blue highlights woven through it.
And those intense blue eyes—they’d come from his mother, she recalled hearing him say once. Those same eyes were responsible for melting an entire squad of cheerleaders in high school, not to mention almost every other teenage girl within a five-mile radius of the hunky, popular quarterback.
God knew she hadn’t been immune to him either, but she’d had no desire to beat off a throng of adoring, salivating females just to get a little one-on-one time with the devastatingly handsome football player.
Funny thing about that. She’d always thought he would make a name for himself in the professional arena, but he seemed to have completely disappeared shortly after he’d graduated high school. They’d been exactly a year apart, even though she had shared a couple of classes with him.
Was this where he’d ultimately wound up? Working in law enforcement and looking like someone badly in need of a haircut and a shave, not to mention new clothes?
Maybe it wasn’t Steve, she thought, reconsidering. As she recalled, the heartthrob of the gridiron had a grin that had a way of imprinting itself on the souls of every female, young and old, whom he ever came in contact with.
This man in her newly discovered uncle’s office had a somber, almost sullen expression. It was the kind of expression that told the casual observer that he didn’t know how to smile.
She directed her wayward attention back to her uncle. The latter smiled warmly at her as he gestured toward the empty chair.
“Please, take a seat,” he urged. When she did, he undertook the introductions. “Detective Esteban Fernandez, I’d like you to meet Detective Kari Cavelli-Cavanaugh.” He paused for a moment to allow the names to sink in on both sides, then he added the all-important words, “Your new partner.”
Esteban visibly balked, his impassive expression cracking just long enough for his complete displeasure to show through.
“Sir,” he protested, “I haven’t worked with a partner for three years.”
“Then it’s high time that you did,” Brian told him matter-of-factly. “You’ve more than earned the right to have someone else watching your back.”
Brian could see that the news was not being received well, but then he’d known it would take time. Rome wasn’t the only thing that hadn’t been built in a day. Neither was trust. But it all started with taking the first step. And this was Fernandez’s first one, even if he abhorred it.
“Your lone-wolf days are over, Fernandez, so you might as well get used to it.”
The expression on his handsome, tanned face was far from accepting. “Sir, could I have some time to think about this?” he asked in a clipped voice.
Brian shrugged. “You can take the time it’ll take you to go home and clean up.”
For form’s sake, the Chief pretended to glance at his watch. He was well aware what time it was. It was one in the afternoon. Fernandez had come to him straight from the safe house he’d been whisked to when he’d had to flee from the run-down apartment he’d been renting from his contact to the cartel.
“Tell you what,” Brian amended. “You can take until tomorrow morning to decide.” He knew he’d be doing the detective a disservice if he didn’t offer this option.
“But be aware of the fact that there’s nowhere else I can put you right now, so your choice, I’m afraid, is limited to yes or no,” he said as Esteban rose to his feet. Getting up as well, Brian leaned over his desk and shook the other man’s hand. “I’d hate to lose you, Detective,” he added with conviction.
Esteban had lived the past three years exclusively in a world where lip service was commonplace and actions spoke far louder than anything that could be said.
Still, despite his wariness of the spoken word, Esteban had the feeling that the Chief was being sincere. It didn’t change what he felt was going to be the ultimate outcome of this meeting, but it was still nice to be appreciated, even if just for a fleeting moment.
“Think long and hard, Detective,” Brian counseled somberly.
“I plan to, sir,” Esteban answered.
Deliberately avoiding any eye contact with either the Chief of D’s or the pretty blonde in the room, Esteban strode out of the office.
Kari watched in silence as the detective walked away. She was still debating whether or not this was the same person who had created such a stir in high school eight short years ago.
His gait was different, she decided. But the set of his shoulders... That definitely reminded her of the Steve she knew. She had a feeling that if she came right out and asked whether he’d attended Aurora High School at the same time that she had, he would just find a way to stonewall her.
No, this was going to require a little detective work on her part.
Kari made a mental note to dig out her yearbook when she got home and look through it.
Right now she was still on the job. Sort of. Turning around, she faced the man whom she had recently established a personal connection with and looked into his eyes.
Never one to beat around the bush, she said, “He’s plann
ing on turning you down, you know.”
It was nice to know that gut instinct and intuition were alive and well in the next generation, Brian thought with satisfaction.
“I know,” he replied. “I also know he doesn’t have anything else in his life.” Brian had always made it a point to know everything that was pertinent about his people and about those who were going to become his people. Detective Esteban Fernandez was no exception.
Then this couldn’t be the Steve she’d gone to high school with, Kari decided. That Steve had had a mother, a stepfather and a younger half brother he’d doted on. Julio had come to cheer him on in all the football games.
She’d only been a detective for a short while, but she had learned very quickly how to read her superiors without making it seem as if she was trying to second-guess them.
“Would you like me to see if I can change his mind for you?” she asked.
For his part, Brian did not answer yes or no. What he did was tell her simply, “I’d like you to be Kari.”
It was enough.
She smiled, inclined her head and said, “Yes, sir,” before turning on her heel and leaving his office.
She had people to see and information to gather.
Chapter 2
Kari focused on her assignment the moment she walked out of the Chief’s office. As far as she was concerned, it was unspoken but understood that she could avail herself of all the resources she needed in order to bring Detective Esteban Fernandez back into the fold.
Being a Cavanaugh certainly had its perks, Kari couldn’t help thinking with a smile. Because there were so many Cavanaughs in the actual police department, as well as various offshoots—such as the D.A.’s office—she had access to places and entities she hadn’t even known existed before she discovered her connection to the large family.
Technically, she hadn’t actually “discovered” the connection—she, along with the rest of her siblings, had been told about it by her father, who also happened to be the head of the CSI day unit. He’d called a family meeting shortly after he’d been informed by none other than Andrew Cavanaugh, the former Aurora chief of police, that he was actually a Cavanaugh.
According to Andrew, her father, Sean, had been the victim of a distraught nurse’s error. Reeling from the news that her fiancé had been killed serving overseas, she’d completed her rounds in a total emotional fog. It eventually came to light that during this time he and another male infant, born on the same day and having the same first name and the same first three letters of the last name, had accidentally been switched.
The end result was that her father had gone home with Mr. and Mrs. Cavelli, while the Cavellis’ real son had gone home with Shamus Cavanaugh and his wife.
Her father had grown up completely unaware of the mix-up, but secretly haunted by the strange feeling that something was off in his life. Not to mention that he didn’t resemble any of his four siblings.
Meanwhile, Kari and her family eventually found out that the real Sean Cavelli hadn’t grown up at all. He’d died in infancy, long before his first birthday, throwing the woman who ultimately turned out to be her grandmother into an all-consuming depression. That mental condition was compounded by the fact that even before the SIDS death had occurred, Martha Cavanaugh had maintained that the infant was not hers. That he was not the child she’d given birth to and held in her arms in the delivery room.
No one had paid any attention to her, thinking that she was just suffering from postpartum depression as well as the guilt and emotional trauma that went with losing an infant to what was then termed “crib death.” It wasn’t until more than four decades later, long after Martha had died, that she was proven right. The infant who had died wasn’t her son.
The discovery that the infants had been switched at birth threw both families into emotional tailspins. The various members on both sides dealt with the news in their own ways. The ones who were most affected, of course, were the Cavellis. Not only did the revelation create turmoil, but it also caused each of her six siblings as well as her father to suffer through their own personal identity crises.
But, unlike some of her siblings, finding out that she was actually a Cavanaugh did not throw Kari for a loop or cause her to stay up nights, questioning who she really was in the grand scheme of things. She accepted the change in status cheerfully, seeing it as an expansion of her base family.
In her heart, she was still a Cavelli—because to her, family had never just been about DNA or bloodlines, it was about a connection, a state of mind. Consequently, she only saw the upside in being related to the Cavanaughs, a large, prominent family most of whose members were dedicated to the principle of protecting and serving the citizens of the city in which they lived.
As far as Kari was concerned, one could never have too much family. A big, extended brood meant there was always someone to talk to, someone to side with you. Someone to have your back.
Happily, a large family also provided a wealth of connections to be tapped into. And that was exactly what she intended to take advantage of now in order to track down Fernandez’s permanent home address.
Or to at least find out where the man got his mail delivered when he wasn’t deeply immersed in the drug cartel. She reasoned that before he’d gone underground for the good of the department, he had to have hung up his clothes somewhere...and she intended to find out where that “somewhere” was located. Because with any luck, that was where he was now, weighing his options and contemplating his choices.
She intended to convince him that there was only one conceivable option with his name on it.
Brenda Cavanaugh, married to the Chief of Detectives’ son, Dax, was the police department’s reigning computer tech nonpareil. Though there were several other techs within the small department, if information was possibly obtainable, she was the one who could find it. To Kari’s way of thinking, even though Esteban Fernandez’s life had been off the grid for more than three years now, he’d initially lived somewhere under his own name. She was confident that Brenda would know how to backtrack and find it.
She was right.
Within twenty minutes of her inquiry, the Chief of Detectives’ daughter-in-law had discovered where Kari’s decidedly reluctant parter-to-be had lived before supposedly vanishing.
“Why didn’t you just go to HR?” Brenda asked curiously as she handed Kari the address she’d just printed out.
“Too much red tape,” she answered. Besides, as far as she knew, there were no family members in HR. Kari believed in using leverage whenever she could.
Glancing at the address, she folded the paper in half. Fernandez lived closer to the precinct than she’d thought. In fact, his place was on her way home.
Perfect.
“Besides, I don’t think I’m supposed to actually get my hands on this information without some kind of authorization,” she confessed.
“And yet, you did,” Brenda said, pointing out the obvious. “Why come to me with this request?”
“Other than the fact that you’re a freakin’ genius when it comes to finding things via the internet?” Kari asked without a hint of a smile on her lips.
Brenda’s grin was wide enough for both of them. “Other than that fact, yes.”
Kari nodded at the paper in her hand. “The Chief of D’s wants me to change this detective’s mind about handing in his shield.”
“And you’re planning on ambushing him at home, where he thinks he’s safe.”
Kari bobbed her head. “Like I said, you’re a genius.” However, despite the accolades, she could tell that the other woman wasn’t exactly gung ho about the situation.
True to form, Brenda indicated the paper she’d just handed to Kari. “As long as you know that you didn’t get that from me...” she cautioned, clearly wanting to distance herself from a
ny possible fallout. With the ease of an unobtrusive pickpocket, using only her thumb and two of her fingers, Kari folded the paper into quarters until it disappeared entirely inside her palm. Then she unselfconsciously slid her hands into her pockets and smoothly deposited the paper with the address she’d requested.
“Get what?” she asked in complete innocence.
Brenda merely laughed and then waved her away. “Go. I’ve got work to do,” she told her unexpected visitor.
“I’m already gone,” Kari reassured her.
The next moment, opening the first door she came to, Kari made good on her promise.
* * *
Esteban frowned, mulling over his present situation and its apparent lack of options.
He had no idea what he was going to do with himself from here on in. Getting justice for his family had consumed all his time and energy for so long—ever since Julio’s overdose more than three years ago—he had no clue where his mission ended and he began. At this point, they were one and the same, and without this single-minded purpose, it was as if someone had sucked all the air out of his lungs...depriving him of the very will to breathe.
Now what? he silently demanded of the darkness around him.
The police department didn’t want him to work undercover anymore—and he knew why. They didn’t want him getting killed on their watch.
But he himself had no such concerns, no such worries shackling him. Death didn’t scare him. Inactivity was what scared him.
He had to be doing this, making a difference where it counted, doing everything in his power to bring down the cartel and its brethren, so that no one else’s brother or child would be discovered dead on the floor of their room after OD’ing on drugs.
And, by extension, he was doing this so no one else’s father would be grief-stricken enough to go out, half-crazed, and hunt down the dealer responsible for the overdose, killing him in cold blood and suffering the consequences of that action: prison for twenty years.
Maybe, Esteban thought as he poured himself another two fingers’ worth of whisky from the bottle he’d unearthed earlier, he could just become a crusader, fight these bastards on his own.
Cavanaugh on Duty Page 2