Cavanaugh In Plain Sight (Cavanaugh Justice Book 42)

by Marie Ferrarella

  Morgan shrugged, unfazed. “Well, you’ll just have to use that charm of yours and talk them into it.”

  She pressed her lips together to keep from screaming in frustration. Didn’t he understand that what he wanted just wasn’t doable? His being there would send entirely the wrong message—that talking to her was dangerous.

  “What kind of a journalist would that make me in their eyes if I need to have police protection when I went out?” she asked.

  “A live one,” he answered matter-of-factly. He held his hand up to stop the onslaught of words that he could just tell were about to come pouring out. “End of discussion, Kowalski. I either go with you, or you don’t go at all.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “And, as a matter of fact, you’re coming with me first.”

  “What?” she demanded, frustrated.

  The more agitated she was, the calmer he became, she thought, something else that infuriated her.

  “I think,” Morgan said, “the first order of business is that we find out just where this Bluebeard character is hiding out. I have a cousin at the precinct who is nothing short of a wizard when it comes to locating people,” he told her, thinking of Valri. He had already mentioned her in passing, but decided that maybe it was time for the two of them to meet.

  Morgan opened the front door for a second time. “You’ll like her,” he promised. “She’s headstrong, like you.”

  “I am not headstrong,” Krys retorted defensively.

  “All right,” he amended amicably, “stubborn, then—like you.”

  “I have to be stubborn,” she informed him, an edge coming into her voice. “Because if I wasn’t, I would never be able to get the story, or people to talk to me, for that matter. The ones who are willing to talk usually have nothing to say.”

  He nodded, well acquainted with that particular trait. “Stubbornness also happens to be a family trait,” he told her. “So there’s no point in you trying to fight me on this.” He thought of his sisters. “I’ve gone up against the best—and won.” He didn’t add that there were times when he lost, because that would be counterproductive to his assuring a win this time—which he both needed and wanted.

  Krys sighed, knowing he was right. After slipping her laptop into its case, she slung the strap over her shoulder.

  “Let’s go,” she told him, resigned.

  Morgan was secretly relieved that she wasn’t putting up a fight about this. He had actually anticipated a great deal more resistance from her because in his experience, that was what stubborn women did. They fought something at every turn when they weren’t willing to go along with it. His sisters and female cousins certainly did.

  Ever suspicious, Morgan made sure she was in his line of vision the entire time as they went back to his vehicle. He didn’t want to take a chance that she would bolt at the last minute.

  Krys didn’t say anything until after she had gotten into his car and Morgan started it up. “What’s this computer wizard’s name?” she asked.

  “Valri,” he told her. “And she really is the best,” he maintained. “Speaking of names, would you happen to know this Bluebeard’s real name?” Morgan asked.

  Krys sighed, clearly frustrated because she had to say, “No.

  “I know the names he used with each of the women he married, but as for this monster’s real name, I hate to admit it but that’s still a mystery,” she told him.

  Morgan was rather surprised, given what he had learned about this woman sitting in the car next to him. “You mean with all your resources, you haven’t been able to find out his actual name?”

  She detected just the slightest note of sarcasm in his voice and it made her bristle.

  “It’s a work in progress,” she informed him between clenched teeth. “His prints haven’t shown up in any known database yet.”

  He could see that being a problem. Still, Valri had been known to work miracles with very little to go on.

  “All right, do you have a list of the aliases this guy used?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Krys gave him the names that she knew of, reciting them in no particular order. “He’s used Chris Hunter, McKinley Thompson, Duke Bradley, Alan Gaskell and Victor Marshall. There are probably more,” she added, “but those are the names that I uncovered so far.” She noticed that Morgan had a rather strange, surprised look on his face when she gave him the names. “What?”

  Morgan spared her a penetrating glance. “You mean you don’t know?”

  He had lost her again. “Know what?”

  “Then you’re not kidding?” he questioned.

  “Kidding about what?” she demanded, her voice growing progressively more and more irritated. “You’re toying with my last nerve. I am really not in the mood for games so just what the hell are you talking about, Cavanaugh?”

  “Those names.” He rattled them off again just to make sure he hadn’t heard her incorrectly. The look on her face told him he hadn’t. “They’re all names that belonged to movie characters.”

  “Movie characters?” she repeated, more confused than ever. She didn’t recognize a single one of the names she had just told him, names she had practically lived with when she tracked Bluebeard down, attempting to corner the black-hearted monster and bring him to justice. “What movie characters? What movies?” she asked sharply, losing the last of her patience.

  So he told her. “They are all names of characters that Clark Gable played in different movies.”

  “Clark Gable?” she repeated, unfamiliar with the name. And then she suddenly realized who he was talking about. “Do you mean that guy who played Rhett Butler in that old movie? Gone With The Wind?”

  He nodded as he stopped at a red light just before the intersection. “That’s the one.”

  That sounded pretty far-fetched to her. She still wasn’t convinced, although it was the kind of egotistical thing the monster was undoubtedly capable of. “Are you sure?”

  He thought of the woman he had watched these old movies with. “Oh, I’m sure,” Morgan assured her.

  Still, she thought that maybe Morgan was pulling her leg. He was talking about an actor who had been dead for at least sixty years, if not longer. “How would you even know that?”

  A fond smile curved Morgan’s mouth as he continued to drive back to the precinct. “Because I had a mother who was a big Clark Gable fan. She used to watch all his old movies whenever they would turn up on some old movie channel. She liked to share the experience with her kids, but as it turned out, I was the only one who didn’t mind watching corny old movies.” He laughed softly to himself. “Mainly because I liked spending time with my mother back then.” A rueful note entered his voice as he confessed, “I didn’t even know she was sick then. Looking back, those times spent watching those old movies were the basis of most of my childhood memories of her.”

  Krys was silent for a couple of minutes as she digested the scenario. And then she told him, “Count yourself lucky. At least you had a mother to make memories with.”

  She saw the quizzical look that came over his face as he glanced at her. About to ignore it, she reminded herself that she was the one who had brought the subject up in the first place. That meant she owed him an explanation.

  “My mother took off when Nik and I were both really young. What I remember of my mother was a flurry of blond hair and really blue eyes. And a frown,” she added after a long beat. “An incredibly deep, down-to-the-bone frown.”

  “A frown?” he questioned.

  “Mother was always frowning,” she told Morgan. “Like she had bitten into a really sour piece of lemon.” Krys drew her shoulders back, a soldier bracing herself to go into a particularly tough battle. “How did we even get to this topic?”

  There was an accusatory note in her voice. As a rule, Krys didn’t like remembering her mother. Didn’t like remembering how abandoned she ha
d felt. Trying to shield her sister from that feeling was the only thing that had kept her going.

  “You were pointing out how much our childhood memories differed from one another,” he told her simply as he pulled into the rear police parking lot.

  Without realizing it, Krys tried to distance herself from him and from the situation he had unwittingly made her unearth.

  “I think that was established. You had a loving mother who didn’t want to leave you. I had one who couldn’t get away fast enough.” She changed the subject so quickly, he nearly sustained whiplash. “Just who is this person you’re bringing me to see?” she asked.

  Morgan pulled up into his assigned parking spot two rows in. “You know,” he told her, “it’s probably easier just to show you.”

  After coming to a full stop, Morgan got out of his vehicle. Krys was already out on her side. It made him think of the phrase “hit the ground running.” It was undoubtedly her motto.

  “By the way,” Krys said as they went up the stairs to the back entrance, “how long do you think they’re going to have to hold on to my car?”

  She saw the side of his mouth curve and thought that didn’t bode well for her.

  “Despite what you see on TV, it does take a bit of time to process a crime scene, especially a mobile one,” Morgan told her. “But I’m sure the chief will do his best to reunite you with your car as soon as possible, although that’s kind of a moot point right now,” he added.

  “Why would it be moot?” she asked as they entered the building.

  “Because, for the time being, I’ll be driving you to and from wherever it is that you have to go. I’m your shadow for now, remember?” he asked far too cheerfully.

  “Then you were being serious earlier?” Krys had hoped that Cavanaugh was just exaggerating and that once they got the trace on Bluebeard underway, Morgan Cavanaugh, as handsome as he might be, would just slip into the background while she went about doing her job.

  “Deadly serious,” he told her as they stepped into the elevator. “You should only pardon the pun.”

  A few choice words came to mind, but she let them go. Seeing that he pressed the B button, she asked him about their destination. “We’re going to the basement?”

  “I see nothing gets past you,” Morgan quipped.

  “I thought all the major police departments were located above the first floor.”

  “Who told you that?” Not waiting for an answer, he said, “Both the computer lab and the crime scene investigative departments are located in the basement.” Before she could ask why, he said, “They tend to think of themselves as being in a world apart from the other departments. And just so you know, this is also where the medical examiners do their work. The morgue was moved to the basement from an off-site area a few years ago.”

  That sounded positively gruesome to her. “You mean the morgue’s down here as well?”

  The elevator came to a halt, opening its doors to the basement. His hand on her elbow, Morgan subtly ushered her out.

  “It has to be. Otherwise, the MEs wouldn’t have very much to examine except for each other,” he said as he led her down a winding corridor.

  Coming to a swinging door, he pushed it open and then held it for her, waiting for her to follow him.

  When she did, she saw that the hallway broke off into two separate directions.

  “Which way?” she asked when he remained standing there, waiting for her.

  Morgan smiled at her. “That way,” he said, pointing to the left, where the computer lab was situated. “Unless you want to see how the investigation into your car is coming first.”

  She just wanted to get this over with. “We can save that for later,” Krys answered. “Take me to your computer genius.”

  “Good word,” he said with approval. “‘Genius.’ Valri will like that.”

  They went through another set of doors before they finally reached the computer lab. There were several desks in the area with computer monitors on them. The computers were all being manned by various computer techs, each with an abundance of degrees that would intimidate the average person.

  The sound of keys clicking in staccato rhythm blended in with the sound of soothing instrumental music that was playing in the background.

  Motioning for Krys to follow him, Morgan brought her over to an isolated area where a woman with hair the color of deep honey sat working, her fingers flying over the keyboard so quickly, Krys marveled that they didn’t somehow manage to tie themselves up into knots.

  It wasn’t until Morgan stopped right in front of the woman’s desk that Valri even became aware of his presence in the area. Whatever greeting she was going to offer Morgan faded in the wake of her obvious surprise and, belatedly, her delight.

  “Nikki! I’m surprised to see you back so soon,” Valri cried. “But I tend to lose track of time when I’m working here,” she confessed, then asked, “How was the honeymoon?”

  The woman regarded as the reigning computer wizard looked genuinely happy to see Nikki—except that it wasn’t Nikki she was looking at.

  Krys sighed. She was used to being mistaken for her twin once in a while, but this was becoming a regular thing. She had the feeling that it wasn’t about to change anytime soon.

  “You know, I am seriously entertaining the idea of getting a badge or a name tag that says ‘I’m not Nik’ on it,” Krys told both Morgan and the young woman he had brought her to meet.

  Confusion furrowed Valri’s brow. “I don’t understand.” She looked at her cousin for some sort of an explanation.

  “It seems that the woman Finn married has a twin sister,” he said, gesturing toward Krys. “Valri, meet Krystyna Kowalski.”

  Valri stared at the other woman, surprised and stunned. “You’re kidding.” Her eyes widened as she scrutinized the newcomer. “You look exactly like Nik.”

  “Maybe not that exactly,” Krys told the other woman. “I’m older, Nik’s taller,” she volunteered, then looked at Morgan, adding, “I already told you that.”

  Morgan merely shrugged at the information. “If you say so,” he replied vaguely. “Val, we’re in need of your very special talents.”

  “Why? To figure out how to tell them apart?” Valri quipped.

  “Not a bad idea, but maybe later. Right now we really need to be able to track down a serial killer who escaped from prison before he could be brought to trial.”

  “What is your particular interest in this guy, other than his pulling a disappearing act before his trial?” Valri asked.

  “We suspect that he may or may not be out gunning for Krys,” Morgan answered.

  Before he had a chance to give Valri any details, Krys broke in. “I’m afraid that if it is him, he might wind up killing Nik, thinking that she’s me. I have to find him before Nik actually does get back from her honeymoon. Morgan says that you’re the best there is,” she added to get on Valri’s good side. “Can you help us?”

  During the course of her years in the computer lab, Valri had learned never to agree to anything immediately. This time, however, was the exception. This involved family.

  “Say no more,” she told the woman with Nik’s face. “I’m in.”

  Chapter 8

  “I really appreciate any help you can give me,” Krys told Morgan’s cousin. “Even if Bluebeard doesn’t turn out to be the one who’s trying to kill me, all the evidence points to him having killed at least six women if not more and at the very least, he deserves to be in jail for the rest of his life, not out there, free to prey on yet another woman.”

  “Believe me, it’ll be my pleasure to locate the monster,” Valri told her with more enthusiasm than Morgan had seen her display in a long while.

  Krys pulled out her laptop from her backpack and held it up. “Tell me what you need from me. I brought the six-part online article I wrote
on him, plus all the research material on him that I could get my hands on. I also have a list of all his aliases, or at least the ones I know of.” She held up the piece of paper containing the various names that Bluebeard had used during his nefarious career. “There might very well be more.”

  Morgan leaned in toward his cousin. “Wait until you find out who this guy fancied himself to be.”

  The latter saw the amused grin on Morgan’s face. “Go ahead,” she told him. She glanced at the piles of work on her desk that she had been wading through. “I could definitely stand a laugh today.”

  “There seems to be a pattern,” Morgan told his cousin. “The names this guy used all seem to be characters that Clark Gable played in various movies.”

  Valri eyed him a bit skeptically. “You’re talking about the actor who was in those old movies, Gone with the Wind, It Happened One Night? That guy?” she asked Morgan.

  Morgan nodded. “I guess that must have fed his ego.” In his day, his mother had once told him, Clark Gable was adored by millions of women. Maybe that was what the serial killer was trying for.

  Valri looked at the list, then at her cousin. “You’re sure about this?”

  He pulled over the list that Krys had written down and glanced at it to reassure himself, and then Morgan nodded. “I’m positive.” He turned the list back to Valri. “I could even tell you the names of the movies those characters were in.”

  Valri passed on his offer. “No, that’s okay. I’ll take your word for it,” she said. “However, if you can think of other possible names, I could go through databases, see if anyone has turned up or been arrested using any of those aliases lately.”

  Krys felt guilty about putting this on the other woman’s shoulders. “I know this is asking a lot,” she apologized. “But there is a time crunch, and according to Morgan, you have a great many more resources available to you than I do. Or actually,” Krys amended, “than anyone I know of does.”