Cavanaugh on Duty

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Then you do know what she’s talking about?” she asked him.

  He wasn’t positive, but he had a pretty good idea. “My guess would be that she thinks you come on a little too intense and dealing with that on an ongoing basis a minimum of five days a week might be...a little challenging for me.”

  “I want to catch a serial killer before he winds up wiping out half the city,” Kari protested. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Not a thing, Hyphen, not a thing,” he told her with an easy smile she found hopelessly sexy.

  Concentrating on her job was getting harder and harder for her, Kari thought. Especially when torrid memories of last night and the night before kept unexpectedly ambushing her mind.

  She did her best to block those thoughts, but she was fighting a losing battle.

  * * *

  Shortly after she and Esteban finished eating the takeout they’d picked up for lunch, Kari’s cell phone rang.

  For once, she didn’t immediately take out her phone. “Oh, God, if that’s someone calling with more bad news, I don’t think I can stand it,” she moaned.

  “Well, it’s not the lieutenant calling,” Esteban told her. He nodded toward the man’s office. “He’s not on the phone.”

  “Okay, maybe that’s a good sign.” Mentally crossing her fingers, Kari pulled out her phone. “Cavelli-Cavanaugh.”

  “I think you need to come down here.”

  She recognized the voice immediately and mouthed “Brenda” to Esteban. For once containing her all-consuming curiosity, Kari didn’t instantly bombard the other woman with questions. Instead she replied, “We’ll be right there.”

  “It is another body?” Esteban wanted to know the moment she ended the call.

  “No,” she answered. “From the way Brenda sounded, I think we’ve just had a breakthrough,” she said as she rose to her feet and all but flew out of the squad room.

  Caught off guard, Esteban found he had to lengthen his stride just to catch up. “You know, for a little thing,” he told her once he was abreast again, “you can really move.”

  Just for a second, she allowed herself a quick mental detour. Flashing a wicked grin, she said, “I thought you already knew that.”

  His laugh made her gut tighten with hopeful anticipation about the night ahead. “I’m learning, Kari, I’m learning.”

  She loved hearing him say her name, but she knew better than to admit that to him. If she didn’t say or do anything to scare Esteban off, maybe whatever it was that was going on between them would last awhile longer.

  At least she could hope.

  * * *

  “We’re here,” Kari announced, walking quickly into the tech lab. The eager note in her voice was impossible to miss. “Are you going to make our day?”

  “Quite possibly,” Brenda replied. She doled out the information in stages to allow the two detectives to digest it properly. “First off, I found your connection. Judge Rockwell, A.D.A. Watson and that defense attorney, Mel Samet, were involved in a number of cases—”

  Kari could feel her stomach begin to sink. “How many?”

  “Twenty,” Brenda told her.

  Observing the exchange, Esteban scrutinized the look on Brenda’s face. There were traces of triumph there. That could mean only one thing. “How many cases with that guy on the jury?” he wanted to know.

  Brenda laughed. “Cut to the chase, right? To answer your question, one.” As Kari started to inundate her with questions, Brenda held up her hand, asking for patience. “But that’s not the most significant part.”

  “Go on,” Esteban urged. One glance at his expression told Kari that he was still expecting to hear the worst. She needed to rub off on him a little more, she thought. He’d be a happier man for it.

  Brenda went over the details as quickly as possible, hitting only the highlights. “The trial involved a rape case. The teenager accused of raping this girl was tried as an adult, convicted and sent to prison. His father tried to get the verdict appealed. The kid kept protesting that he was innocent.”

  “That’s what they all say,” Esteban commented darkly.

  “True,” Brenda agreed. “But it turned out he really was. The real rapist was this repeat offender who could have been the kid’s twin. They caught him on another charge, the guy confessed and the original verdict was overturned.” She paused, looking distraught by what she was about to reveal. “The only problem was it was too late. The same day that the verdict was being overturned, the kid was killed in prison by another inmate.” Brenda glanced at them before adding the last piece of important information. “His throat was slashed.”

  So much for thinking an ex-con with a grudge was killing the people responsible for sending him away. “But if the poor kid’s dead, then who’s killing all these people?” Kari wanted to know.

  Before Brenda could answer, Esteban thought of his stepfather and said, “His father.”

  Clearly impressed, Brenda turned to Kari. “I’d say this guy’s a keeper.”

  “I’m leaning that way myself,” Kari told her. She meant to make it sound like a joke, but she wasn’t quite successful.

  Suppressing a knowing smile, Brenda got back to business. “The kid’s father took it hard and swore revenge on the justice system,” she informed them. “I guess this body count was what he meant.”

  It certainly looked that way to her, Kari thought. “You have an address for this man?” she asked the other woman.

  “Would I let you down?” Brenda asked. Taking a page the printer had just spat out for her, she handed it to Kari. The page contained a copy of Ray Gibson’s DMV license. On it were his picture and his address.

  “You’re the best, Brenda,” Kari declared as she folded the paper and slipped it into her back pocket. “C’mon, Esteban, we’ve got a killer to detain.”

  They lost no time leaving the lab.

  * * *

  Ray Gibson’s apartment, once they gained access to it with the aid of a reluctant superintendent, was empty. Judging from the date of the newspaper left open on Gibson’s beat-up kitchen table, the man had left three weeks ago—exactly the time when the killings had begun.

  Framed photographs of Gibson’s deceased son occupied almost every flat surface available, dating back to when he was a baby.

  The entire apartment had been turned into a veritable shrine to the teen. There was a photograph of father and son—the only one as far as they could determine—on the cheap coffee table.

  Esteban paused before it, picking it up and looking more closely at father and son.

  “You find something?” Kari asked, coming over to join him.

  He’d been studying the older man’s face, trying to remember where he’d seen it before—and then it came to him. “I’ve seen this guy before. He was the stenographer at my stepfather’s trial.”

  She didn’t bother asking if he was sure. She knew Esteban well enough now to know he didn’t say anything that he had the least doubt about. Seeming reckless, he was actually as stable as a rock.

  “I guess we can stop wondering how he got his hands on the names and addresses of those three jurors.” Her eyes widened as a thought hit her squarely between the eyes. “Oh, God.”

  Esteban had just had the same thought. “He’s got the rest of the addresses.”

  She nodded numbly. “We’re going to need those extra detectives that Lieutenant Morrow promised me,” she said. They had possibly a great deal of legwork before them and speed was of the utmost importance. “Immediately,” she added.

  Her first call was to Brenda, followed by a call to the lieutenant.

  * * *

  Armed with the names and addresses of the remaining jurors who were still alive and in the area—one juror had died of natural causes, another had d
rowned in a boating mishap and three had moved to other states—Kari divided up the remaining four jurors, giving three to the other detectives that had been temporarily assigned to her department. She took the fourth one, a Kyle Masters, for Esteban and herself.

  With luck, they could get to all four before the killer did.

  While Esteban drove them to the fourth man’s house, Kari called the cell phone number Brenda had provided for the juror.

  All three tries went to voice mail.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Kari told her partner as she gave up trying to reach the man by phone. “Drive faster.”

  Esteban pressed down harder on the accelerator.

  Chapter 18

  There was no answer when they knocked on the door of Kyle Masters’s single-story house.

  “Maybe he’s at work,” Kari said. But even as she said the words, she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she was wrong.

  Esteban had moved over to the window that was adjacent to the door and peered in. The see-through curtains at the window afforded him a view into the living room.

  “Not today.” He grimaced. “There’s a body lying on the floor in the living room...and my guess is that it’s his.”

  They were too late, she thought, frustrated. “We need to kick down the door.”

  “Much as I’d like to watch you try to do that,” Esteban told her, “I’ve got a better idea.”

  “Okay, I’m listening,” she prodded.

  But rather than answer her, Esteban moved her out of the way, then took something out of the wallet in his back pocket. Inserting the match-thin metal into the lock, he began to work at the lock.

  Approximately ninety seconds later, the door was unlocked.

  Kari suppressed the impulse to whistle her admiration. “Very nicely done,” she told him as she prepared to go in.

  He grinned at her. “I learn from the best,” he told her with a wink that, despite the gravity of the moment, made her heart flutter.

  Later, she promised herself. I’ll think about this later.

  Right now, they had a serial killer to catch.

  He saw Kari take a deep breath as she trained her gun dead center at the door. She was psyching herself up. So was he.

  “Ready?” he asked, his voice dropping to hardly a whisper. He slowly twisted the doorknob, easing the metal tongue from its groove.

  “Ready,” she mouthed, accompanying the word with a nod of her head. Adrenaline was surging through her at incredible speed.

  The next moment, in one quick motion, Esteban pushed the front door all the way open. Every fiber of her being was on the alert as Kari entered the seemingly empty house.

  But the second she crossed the threshold, she felt her left arm suddenly being grabbed from the side. And then a hunting knife, still covered in the latest victim’s blood, was being pressed against her throat, the tip nicking her skin as she was dragged backward and to the side.

  “Don’t come any closer!” a frenzied voice behind her threatened Esteban. “I’ll slash her throat just like I slashed his. It’s your call.”

  “Put the knife down, Mr. Gibson,” Esteban said in a reserved, calm voice that belied the turmoil that was churning inside him. “You don’t want to do this. We’re police detectives. You don’t want to hurt her.”

  “No, but I will,” the distraught man cried, his voice rising and on the verge of cracking. “Unless you put your gun down, I will.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Esteban,” Kari ordered. “Take the shot. He’s going to kill us both if you put your gun down. Take the shot!”

  Esteban never took his eyes off the man. “Is she right?” he asked in the same monotone voice he’d used before.

  His mind raced, frantically searching for an alternative, a way out for Kari. But the knife the man held against Kari’s throat was almost drawing blood. Gibson could kill her in an instant.

  The horror of that thought almost paralyzed him, all but making him physically ill. He couldn’t lose her, he couldn’t.

  “Will you kill us both if I put my gun down?” Esteban pressed, his tone flat, devoid of emotion.

  There was hysteria in the other man’s voice. “One thing’s for sure. I’ll kill her if you don’t.”

  Oh, God, Kari thought, Esteban was wavering, she could see it in his eyes. They were both lost if he bought into this.

  “Don’t,” Kari cried. “Don’t do it. He’s killed at least seven people—”

  “They deserved it!” the man interjected, screaming the words.

  “What’s to stop him from killing two more?” she pointed out, completing her thought and praying Esteban listened to her.

  “Can’t risk it,” Esteban said to her. Then, very slowly, he lowered his weapon to the floor.

  Okay, it was now or never, Kari told herself. The man with the stranglehold on her waist had nothing to lose by killing them. All she could think of was that she couldn’t let that happen.

  With a wild, guttural cry, she suddenly used both hands and grabbed the arm that was holding the knife to her throat. Adrenaline pounded through her veins even faster as the pain of a sharp prick registered.

  Focused only on one thing, she sank her teeth into Gibson’s wrist. The blood-curdling shriek almost made her deaf. She thought he’d screamed because she’d bitten him, but then she felt Gibson’s hold around her waist loosen and realized that his body was sinking down behind her.

  His knees hit the floor, and as she jumped aside, she saw the rest of him go down, face-first, on the rug.

  That was when she finally swung around to look at Esteban, who was also on the floor. It took her a split second to realize that with Gibson momentarily distracted, Esteban had dived to retrieve his weapon, and from his awkward position on the floor had shot the deranged man.

  Scrambling up to his feet now, Esteban was beside her in less than a heartbeat, his hands on her shoulders. The deadly calm expression was gone from his face, replaced by one of mingled fear and concern.

  “Are you all right?” he demanded hoarsely.

  She pressed her lips together and nodded. Something was hurting, but she’d probably gotten banged around. “Never better,” she cracked.

  “He cut you,” Esteban gasped, staring at the blood he saw oozing along her throat.

  She touched the wound gingerly and winced. “Oh, yeah. I guess he did. It’s just a flesh wound,” she assured him. Glancing at the man who was lying facedown on the floor, she saw the pool of blood that was forming a red outline around his head. “Nice shot,” she commented. Her eyes shifted back to Esteban’s face. She’d never seen him look so pale. “I take it that wasn’t just a lucky shot.”

  “Yeah, it was,” he told her.

  He’d been shaking so badly inside, he’d been afraid that he would hit her instead, even though he’d had sniper training, thanks to the department.

  And then unable to cope with the thoughts that were attempting to crowd into his head, thoughts that all had to do with the devastating consequences they’d have faced if he hadn’t managed to get off that single shot, Esteban just pulled her into his arms and held her close.

  She resisted to an extent. “I’ll get blood all over you,” she protested.

  “Shut up,” he told her, emotion throbbing in his throat. Emotion that, until now, he’d managed to keep locked away. “Like I care.”

  She clung to him, all resistance gone. His presence gave her tremendous solace, and his warm, comforting embrace provided her with the strength she needed at a time like this.

  “We need to call this in,” she reminded him after a few moments had gone by.

  “We will,” he assured her, his arms tightening. “I just need a second.”

  “Yeah,” she admitted
quietly. “Me, too.”

  * * *

  The CSI unit, along with Lieutenant Morrow and the other detectives he’d temporarily reassigned to the task force, all converged on the scene, almost en masse. It took a minimum of detail to fill the lieutenant in.

  “I guess he just went off the deep end when his son was killed in prison just after the judge reversed the guilty ruling,” Kari said. “He wanted to make everyone involved in sending his son to prison suffer the same fate his son had,” she said solemnly. “He wrote on his son’s social media page that he was on ‘a mission from God,’” she told Morrow. That was something one of the other detectives had told her just before the lieutenant had arrived.

  “Too bad nobody picked up on that and alerted us sooner. Some of these poor bastards would have still been alive if they had,” Morrow commented. “Good work, you two,” he congratulated them. “One last order for the day and then you’re both free to go home and get some rest.” He looked at Esteban intently. “Take her to the hospital to have that looked at.” He nodded at the bandage on the side of her neck.

  “The paramedic already looked at it,” Kari protested. “He put some disinfectant on it that hurt like hell and then bandaged it.”

  The lieutenant looked unimpressed. “I’m not going to be the one to explain to the Chief of D’s why he’s short one niece.” His eyes shifted toward Esteban. “Take her. Now!” he underscored.

  “You heard the man,” Esteban said, taking her by the arm and firmly guiding her to where they’d left their car at the curb what seemed like a hundred years ago.

  “I’ve got a better way for you to ‘take’ me,” she said, echoing the lieutenant’s order and putting her own meaning to it.

  “Later,” he promised her. “First we get that taken care of.”

  “What if I say no?” she challenged.

  He was prepared for that. “Then I’ll have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you there.”

  A smile entered her eyes. “Can I opt for that?” she asked.

  “Shut up and get in the car,” Esteban ordered gruffly.