Cavanaugh on Duty

by Marie Ferrarella

  He sounded concerned, Kari thought. Questions popped up in her head, all sorts of questions regarding not just the identity of the caller but who this person was to Esteban. Was there a lasting bond between the caller and him? Was this an old girlfriend, someone he’d met in his undercover days, or was this someone from his other past...the one he had before he went into deep cover?

  Oh, God, was that jealousy that was pricking at her? she wondered in dismay. Seriously? In the middle of the biggest case she’d ever handled, after just one torrid night, she was actually being possessive? What the hell was going on here? she silently demanded. This wasn’t like her.

  Get a grip, Kari, she ordered herself as she struggled not to listen to one half of the conversation going on right beside her.

  It wasn’t easy, despite the fact that Esteban had lowered his voice and the vehicle she was driving did not offer a smooth, quiet ride. It was as if her ears had automatically gone on high alert, even in the face of her initial good intentions.

  Esteban was still talking to whoever had called him when they pulled up in the precinct’s parking lot. Bringing the vehicle to a stop in the parking space set aside for the car, Kari finally heard her partner saying goodbye.

  “Everything okay?” she asked mildly, doing her best to sound disinterested but polite. Given her inherent curiosity, it took a lot of effort to pretend to distance herself this way.

  Esteban didn’t answer her immediately, as if he was first weighing each word before putting them to use.

  “Yeah, he just likes to check up on me every now and then. His good behavior earns him extra phone time,” he told her.

  She realized that a sense of relief had washed over her at the use of the pronoun “he.” It wasn’t another woman.

  “Good behavior?” Kari echoed as a second question occurred to her. Good behavior made it sound like Esteban was either talking to a young child who had to earn his privileges or someone calling from prison.

  The latter possibility reminded her of something that the Chief had revealed when he’d filled her in on Esteban’s family history.

  Something she wasn’t supposed to know about yet.

  Her mind scrambling, she worded her question as best she could. “You know someone on a short leash?” she asked him quietly.

  He surprised her with his straightforward answer. “I know someone in prison. My stepfather.”

  Ordinarily, Esteban wasn’t given to sharing. Now that he had, he waited to see if the woman was going to be judgmental of the man who made up the only family he had left. But the look on her face didn’t show any sign of censure.

  “Why is he in prison?” Kari asked, giving her partner an opportunity to open this door he’d just cracked a little further.

  Giving him the opportunity to trust her.

  He hadn’t talked about it in years. Hated talking about it, even though he understood the deed, because talking about it brought all the memories back so vividly. Reminding him that there were things he was powerless to fix.

  Finally, he said, “He killed his son’s supplier. My half brother, Julio, died of a heroin overdose,” he told her bluntly. “Miguel was grief-stricken. He went to the police, tried to get the dealer arrested for killing Julio. But there was no proof, so they couldn’t do anything. That was when Miguel decided he would.

  “He bought a gun, found out where the guy was dealing, walked up to him and blew his brains out.” He said the words, as devoid of emotion as his stepfather had been when he had killed the dealer. “Then he went back down to the police station and turned himself in,” he told Kari grimly.

  Listening, Kari watched his face as he spoke. It was hard and unyielding, lacking any sentiment. But she saw his jaw tightening as he relived what he was telling her.

  “He didn’t even try to get away. He told the police that he did it for Julio—for all the Julios who would have gone on to die if this dealer had gone on selling heroin.” Esteban let out a long breath before continuing. It was the only sign that talking about this was taking a toll on him.

  “The jury convicted him, but they asked the judge for clemency.” It was at that point she saw a trace of bitterness mark his features. “The judge was hard-assed, though. Said Miguel’s reasons didn’t matter. He did the crime, he had to do the time. Made me want to go after him myself,” he confessed. “Instead, I volunteered for an undercover detail being put together. I wanted to try to even the odds up a little myself. For Julio and for Miguel.”

  The story had moved her emotionally, making her feel for Esteban and helping her understand him a little better. Her heart truly ached for the man, who had endured so much pain and suffering, and it was clear to her now how his past had shaped him into the person he was today. But his harrowing account had done more than just fill her with empathy. It had made her think of something.

  “That’s it,” she cried, her eyes shimmering with intensity. “That’s got to be the common thread.”

  Esteban looked at her. He had no idea what she was referring to. “Going undercover?” he questioned.

  “No, a trial. A trial’s the common thread. Think about it,” she stressed. “Who are our victims? A retired judge, an A.D.A. and, according to his friend, one of the victims was bent out of shape because he had to serve on a jury sometime in the past.”

  They already knew all that. “So?” Esteban questioned.

  “So maybe they were all involved in the same trial. I bet if we dig deep enough, we’ll find that victims one and two either served on the same jury, or were witnesses in the trial, or had something to do with it. That’s got to be it—a trial that they all had in common,” she concluded excitedly.

  It was more than possible, Esteban thought. If they could find a common trial. “You think someone they each had a hand in sending to prison is exacting revenge now that he’s out?”

  That would be the most logical guess, but she wasn’t putting all her eggs in that one basket just yet—and she wasn’t about to go to the lieutenant with her theory until they’d researched the possibility first.

  “Maybe,” she allowed, doing her best to keep her voice level and contained. “But first let’s see if we can connect these people to a single trial,” she told him. And then, unable to be cool and restrained about it any longer, she allowed her excitement to burst out again. “We’re right,” she cried. “I can feel it in my bones. We’re right.”

  “You’re right,” Esteban pointed out. He’d never been one to take or share credit unless it actually belonged to him. “This was your idea.”

  Kari was in a very generous, magnanimous mood. She had a really good feeling about this. “Which I wouldn’t have had if you hadn’t just shared your story with me,” she told him. Pausing, she sobered a little. “Thank you for trusting me enough to let me in,” she said softly. She pressed her lips together, and then smiled at him. Her eyes were bright. “We really are a team, aren’t we?”

  He smiled at her, brushing back the hair from her face, feeling the same stirrings taking hold that he’d experienced the night before. He wanted her. God help him, he wanted to take her here and now. In broad daylight. Out in the police parking lot.

  “I’d like to think so,” he said huskily.

  Just like that, Kari could feel longings spring up within her, demanding attention, seeking fulfillment. Her throat grew dry. “If this winds up panning out, I’m baking your stepfather a cake with a file in it.”

  She heard Esteban laugh, really laugh, at her spontaneous comment. It was a very rich, seductive sound. “You’re a Cavanaugh—you’re not supposed to talk that way.”

  “I’m a Hyphen,” Kari reminded him, falling back on the nickname she was growing accustomed to. “That gives me leeway,” she told him. She saw that he was looking around, first to the right, then to the left. “What are you doing?”
<
br />   “Checking the parking lot for witnesses,” he told her.

  “You’re afraid someone’ll overhear and turn me in?” she asked, amused. That wasn’t like him, she thought. But she liked the idea that he was being protective—even if she could take care of herself.

  “No, I just don’t want anyone to see.”

  She didn’t understand. What was he talking about? “See what?” she asked.

  Satisfied that the parking lot was empty, he turned back to her. Despite the way he felt, Esteban didn’t want to risk compromising her reputation in any manner. She was the one who mattered in this.

  The only one who mattered.

  “See me do this,” he answered.

  Then, before she could ask just what “this” was, Esteban surprised her by leaning in and kissing her.

  With very little effort, the kiss could have blossomed and led to a great deal more, but for now it had to hold him, to satisfy him with the knowledge that there would be more later.

  “You, Fernandez,” she rasped as he drew back, leaving a space of less than six inches between them, “are really just full of surprises.”

  He smiled then and she could feel the effects go straight into her bones. “Good. Nothing worse than being predictable and dull.”

  “No chance of that,” she assured him, doing her best not to sound as breathless as she was.

  As it was, it took her a moment before she felt that her knees were strong enough to hold her up. Only then did she get out of the car.

  Even so, it was only by concentrating on the breakthrough she felt they had made on the case that she was able to put one foot in front of the other and walk up the back steps to the precinct’s rear entrance rather than float up.

  She had, she told herself, a good feeling about this. All of this.

  Chapter 17

  “You’re back,” Brenda Cavanaugh said when she looked up from her work the following morning and saw Kari and her partner walking into the tech lab. “And you brought a friend,” she noted as they headed straight for her. “Esteban, right?” she recalled with a smile. “Not sure if you recognize me, since you were introduced to a lot of Cavanaughs on Saturday, but we met at the wedding.”

  Esteban nodded, politely returning her smile. “I remember. How are you doing?”

  Brenda shifted her eyes toward Kari. “I don’t know. That depends on what your partner here asks me to do.”

  Kari became the soul of innocence. “Can’t I just be visiting?”

  Brenda choked back a laugh, then said, “No.”

  “Okay, you’re right,” Kari allowed, then added with emphasis, “this time. But I’ll drop by just to say hi next time,” she promised.

  “I’ll look forward to it,” Brenda quipped, then went on more seriously, “Meanwhile...?”

  Kari had learned a few tricks since her academy days and knew how to phrase things so they were presented in the best possible light—and were almost impossible to turn down. “Brenda, how would you like to save the Aurora Police Department hundreds, maybe thousands of man-hours?”

  Because her skills put her in such demand, Brenda had evidently heard it all when it came to detectives trying to wheedle their work requests to the top of the pile. But the receptive look she shot Kari implied that Brenda was willing to hear her out.

  “So far, so good,” the computer tech responded. Then, humor curving her mouth, she bluntly asked, “Exactly where is this going?”

  Kari took out her folder containing a copy of the photographs of all the victims with their names and either former or present occupations written beneath their images. Since there’d been no one available in the tech lab yesterday when she’d come up with her theory, she and Esteban had made the rounds questioning the judge’s and the A.D.A.’s neighbors, as well as several of their separate friends, starting with Greer and Blake.

  Just as she had suspected, absolutely no one had seen anything or anyone who aroused their suspicions. The workday had ended in frustration.

  The night, however, had been a whole other matter. There had been no frustration there, just a late dinner and a great deal of lovemaking. No matter where she and Esteban wound up going from here, she was always going to cherish what amounted to an utterly exquisite weekend.

  But it was a new day now, the beginning of a new week, and she wanted to bring down this serial killer so badly she could almost taste it. And although Esteban said little on the subject, she could sense that he felt exactly the same way.

  “I—we,” she corrected, glancing toward her partner, “need you to cross-reference something for us. We need to find out what case A.D.A. Philip Watson pleaded before Judge Hal Rockwell.”

  Brenda couldn’t help but laugh. “You make it sound so simple, but that’s not one case. My guess is that we’re looking at a whole bunch of cases,” she said, pulling the folder closer. Her eyes swept over the other photographs and she raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  Which was when Esteban told her, “There’s more.”

  Brenda sighed. “Of course there is. Go on,” she said, waiting to be filled in.

  “The case in question involved this man serving on the jury.” She moved the third victim’s photograph closer to Brenda. “And it’s possible that these two people were also on the jury.” He moved the photographs of the first two victims and had them join the third victim’s. “But we’re really not sure yet just how these two fit in with the rest—other than being this serial killer’s victims.”

  “Well, I’ll say one thing for you,” Brenda declared. “Your request is colorful, not to mention challenging.” She looked over the information that Kari had brought her in the folder. “Okay, this is going to take me a while.”

  “Not nearly as long as it would take us if we had to wade through all the boxed archives in the courthouse basement,” Kari assured her. “Thanks, Brenda, we owe you.”

  “That’s what they all say. Someday, I intend to collect. Big-time,” she told them, pretending to put them on notice.

  “It’ll be worth it,” Kari assured the older woman as she and Esteban left the tech lab.

  * * *

  Kari had exactly fifteen minutes to feel good about her hunch before her cell phone began ringing. She knew without looking that it couldn’t be Brenda getting back to them so soon.

  And she was right.

  Taking her phone out, she had just enough time to answer before the voice on the other end of the call said something that had her jaw dropping.

  “So soon?” she cried, disheartened.

  She’d really hoped that, with Brenda’s help, they could get to the killer and stop him before he honed in on his next victim. But the serial killer had beaten them to the punch.

  Again.

  She closed her eyes, fighting back a wave of frustration.

  “Yes, sir, yes. Fine.” She opened her eyes again, slanting Esteban a quick glance. “He’s right here with me. Yes, right away.” With the call abruptly terminated, she slipped her phone into her pocket. “We’re not going up to the squad room,” she informed him.

  “Another one?” It was a rhetorical question. He’d guessed the content of the call by the look on her face.

  “Another one,” she echoed. “The bastard’s upping his game much too fast. Of course,” she added, trying desperately to find a silver lining to this, “the faster he kills, the more likely he is to make a mistake.” And when he did, she was going to get him. Big-time.

  “That’s not much of a comfort to his victims,” Esteban said brusquely.

  Kari sighed, her frustration mounting at a prodigious rate. “I know.”

  * * *

  The moment they found out the latest victim’s occupation, Kari immediately got back in contact with Brenda. This had to mean she was right, she th
ought excitedly.

  As soon as she heard the line on the other end being picked up, she immediately started talking, struggling to sound relatively coherent. “Those court cases you’re cross-referencing...” she began.

  “And hello to you, too, Kari,” Brenda said with a laugh.

  “Hello,” Kari returned the greeting belatedly. “Add Attorney James Bell to that list I gave you earlier.”

  There was silence on the other end for a moment and then Brenda asked quietly, “Is he...”

  It didn’t take a genius to know what the rest of the computer tech’s question was. “The latest victim, yes,” she responded, then said more eagerly, “There can’t be too many cases involving all three of those men. Once you’ve found those, you can use the reluctant juror to complete the weeding-out process.”

  “I know my job, Kari,” Brenda reminded her good-naturedly.

  The last thing she wanted to do was insult her new cousin-in-law and the Chief’s daughter-in-law to boot. She was just so eager to have this all finally come together, she was tripping over her own tongue—and stumbling across other people’s feelings.

  “Sorry, Brenda,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean to insinuate that you didn’t.”

  “Apology accepted,” she said, evidently taking it all in stride. Kari knew that the older woman was all too familiar with the emotional roller coaster that detectives rode while working their cases. “Oh,” Brenda added offhandedly, “and tell Esteban that I wish him lots of luck.”

  Kari didn’t understand. “Why?” she wanted to know.

  “I think he’ll understand” was all Brenda said before she ended the call.

  “She find something?” Esteban asked the moment Kari put her phone away.

  She realized that she was furrowing her brow as she pondered the other woman’s odd words, so she forced a neutral expression to her face. “Not yet—but she said to tell you that she wished you luck.”

  Rather than ask her what Brenda meant by that, the way she assumed that he would, she saw Esteban laugh, compounding the mystery for her.