Cavanaugh In Plain Sight (Cavanaugh Justice Book 42)

by Marie Ferrarella

  Her mouth fell open. “You did not,” she argued.

  “Sure I did,” Morgan insisted. “You found yourself in bed, didn’t you?” he pointed out.

  “No, I mean you didn’t try to wake me up,” she told him.

  “You’re just a hardier sleeper than you think you are,” Morgan told her. Krys went on staring at him. “Okay, okay, I said your name but I didn’t really try to wake you up. The way I saw it, if you actually wound up falling asleep, you were too exhausted to be staying up. Any work you did would have to be redone.” He could see he hadn’t convinced her. “What’s the harm in letting you sleep? It’s not like you were goofing off. You put in more than a full day and headway was made today. Things were discovered.”

  “I still have to get this article done,” she pointed out. “The time to get this in is running out.”

  “You put too much pressure on yourself,” Morgan insisted. “You can’t do your best work if you’re tired,” he told her.

  “Said the man who doesn’t sleep.”

  “I sleep,” he told her. “I just ration it out and do it during lulls.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it,” she told Morgan.

  “Well, since you’re up,” he said, attempting to change the subject, “I do have something to run past you.”

  “What?” she asked suspiciously.

  “An invitation.”

  Instant wariness telegraphed itself throughout her body and she froze. Krys realized that she was growing more and more attracted to Morgan, but that attraction created a whole new set of problems as far as she could see. Problems that could undoubtedly only get worse. And that was a minefield that she wanted to avoid walking through, at least for the time being.

  “Look, Cavanaugh, I’m very flattered,” she told him, trying very hard to be kind about this, “but I think in view of family harmony, I’m going to have to turn you down, at least for now.”

  He stared at her, confused. “Turn me down?”

  “Yes. Turn you down. For that date you’re asking me out on,” she said, clarifying what she meant by increments.

  “Well, I guess that’s rather fortunate for both of us.” Morgan said.

  “How so?” Krys questioned.

  Morgan smiled at her. This was a definite mix-up. “Well, because for one thing, I’m not asking you to go out with me.”

  Her eyebrows drew together. She tried not to pay attention to the wave of embarrassment. “Then what was this invitation all about?”

  “Remember I mentioned my Uncle Andrew’s parties? Well, he’s having one this Sunday and he wanted me to extend an invitation to you.”

  He was grinning now. Broadly.

  Chapter 16

  Krys could feel warning signals going off in her head.

  “Did he specifically ask that I be there?” she asked. “Or did you suggest that I be there?”

  Morgan didn’t believe in lying, but he didn’t want to make it sound as if he’d had to talk his uncle into including her. She definitely wouldn’t go then.

  “What does it matter which came first, the chicken or the egg?” he asked her. “The main thing is that Uncle Andrew is going to be throwing a party this coming Sunday and he would really like to have you attend so that he can finally get to meet you. By the way, Uncle Andrew has a high opinion of your sister,” he threw in for good measure.

  “Well, that’s nice to hear, but it seems like a lot of trouble for him to go to in order just to meet me,” she countered. “If it’s all the same to him, why don’t I just swing by wherever he lives tomorrow before I go to my interview?”

  Morgan stopped her before she was off and verbally running.

  “First of all, Uncle Andrew doesn’t see it as a lot of trouble—he likes nothing more than ‘cooking for the masses.’ And second of all, when were you going to tell me about this interview that you’re conducting tomorrow? Who is it that you’re planning on interviewing?” he asked.

  She could feel her back going up, but she told herself that Morgan was just focused on doing his job, even though she didn’t like being held accountable by someone, even Morgan.

  “I didn’t realize that I was supposed to ask your permission before I did something. I said that I was going to be talking to more people in connection with this article and after what happened to Claire, the other interviews had to be postponed.” She sighed, doing her best to get her temper under control. “But since you asked, specifically I’ve got an appointment to speak with Lawrence Jacobs, the head of the drug research team at Weatherly Pharmaceuticals. The appointment is at two o’clock tomorrow. He’s granting me a fifteen-minute window. According to him,” she said, less than pleased about the way things were playing themselves out, “it’s all he can spare. There. Now you know everything.”

  He sincerely doubted that, but he kept the observation to himself. Instead, he asked a far more practical question. “And you think that fifteen minutes is enough time for this interview?”

  “It’s going to have to be,” she told him with a sigh. “Besides, I can talk very fast.”

  He could testify to that, he thought. But there was one other small problem. “He might not answer fast.”

  “I can also tell if someone is stonewalling me,” she told the detective, adding, “I can be very direct and I intend to ask Jacobs if he knew that Claire intended to change her statement about the accuracy of the test results.”

  Now there was a bomb waiting to go off, Morgan thought. “In other words, you’re planning on poking at Jacobs with a stick.”

  “I’m planning on poking him with whatever I need to use in order to find out if he had any part in eliminating Claire because she posed a threat to the success of his miracle drug.” It was all about the bottom line, she thought. With any luck, she’d get a few answers tomorrow.

  He frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Morgan told her. “But I know you won’t listen to me.”

  “Glad we understand each other,” she said with finality because, come hell or high water, she intended to see Jacobs and get him talking. Who knew where that might lead?

  “I really doubt that, but I know enough to pick my battles,” Morgan told her. “However, I am coming with you so at least Jacobs realizes that the police department is committed to protecting you.”

  She shook her head. “No, you’re not,” she declared. “I let you come with me to the other interviews, but this is the head honcho we’re talking about, the guy who makes things happen. I’m lucky to get him to agree to see me at all.” She was walking a tightrope with this. “He certainly won’t talk to me if you’re there.”

  But Morgan wasn’t about to budge on this point. “Too bad,” he said in a deceptively mild voice. “He’s going to have to learn.”

  The man was infuriating. Didn’t he see what was at stake here? She tried to bargain with Morgan. “Okay, I’ll go with you to this family gathering of yours if you back off about the interview. I need to do this.”

  His expression never changed, but Morgan continued to hold fast. “Sorry, nonnegotiable, Kowalski. I go with you on that interview, or you don’t go.”

  Her eyes flashed. “I don’t need a mother hen hovering over me,” Krys all but shouted at him.

  “No, you need a keeper,” he informed her in an easygoing voice. “End of story.”

  She curled her hands into fists, frustrated beyond words. “But—!”

  He rose, towering over her, the immovable object confronting the irresistible force. “Look, I am not explaining to your sister when she comes back from her honeymoon how you happened to wind up dead even though there were enough warning signs for even a simpleton to realize that you were playing with fire. Now, I either come with you when you talk to Jacobs, or you don’t go. It’s as simple as that.

  “Don’t for
get,” he pointed out in a voice that was so low-key it made her want to scream, “Claire was killed—murdered—in Aurora. That makes this the police department’s case. My case, since you all but dropped it in my lap.”

  She blew out a ragged breath. “I’m not going to win this, am I?”

  The smile he gave her just managed to further incense her. “There will be arguments in the future that you will win,” he told her in a tolerant voice. “Probably a lot of them, given how stubborn you are, but you’re not winning this one, no,” he confirmed her suspicion. “I’ll even pretend to be your assistant again if that helps to make my presence more acceptable to this CEO.”

  She uttered a totally exasperated sound, then said, “Okay, you win. I surrender,” Krys said. She pressed her lips together, making a decision. “Now I guess I’ll get some rest or I’ll wind up falling asleep in the middle of the interview tomorrow.”

  “Good idea,” Morgan said, nodding. “Good night,” he told her, saying the words to her back as she walked away, heading to her bedroom.

  He was surprised when she remained there.

  * * *

  Krys stayed in her bedroom until a few minutes past five in the morning. At that point, she was fairly confident that Morgan had probably fallen asleep, taking one of his “catnaps.” The house had been still for a while now. There was no sound coming from anywhere, other than the intermittent hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen whenever it turned over for a few minutes.

  Rising out of bed in slow motion, Krys got dressed even slower and quieter. She took care not to disturb anything that might create a noise that would alert her infuriating bodyguard. She knew Morgan had a job to do, but she had a job to do as well.

  She supposed that in an odd sort of way, those jobs overlapped. Someone had killed Claire just because the woman chose to tell the truth and Claire had chosen to tell that truth to her.

  If she hadn’t prodded, Claire would be alive. She was still having trouble containing her guilt over that. At the very least, she owed the woman something for what had happened to her. She intended to get to the bottom of this, never mind that the same person who killed Claire might also be trying to kill her.

  All because almighty profits were being threatened.

  She was the first to admit that she liked money as much as anyone, but certainly not at the expense of someone’s life. That just couldn’t be allowed to happen, Krys silently swore.

  Lord, she had never gotten dressed this slowly, she thought. Even as a kid, she would hurry into her clothes, whether she was going out to play, or to school, or just to run errands for her father. Moving this slowly was killing her. Her arms practically ached as she slipped on her two-piece suit, shoes and dark-colored pantyhose. She wanted to look conservative and presentable for this interview.

  At the last minute, she decided to carry her shoes rather than wear them so her heels wouldn’t make noise on the tile that lined the entranceway.

  Carrying her shoes in one hand, her laptop slung over her shoulder and held fast with the other, Krys held her breath as she almost silently tiptoed past Morgan.

  She had her hand on the doorknob and was about to open the front door when she heard Morgan’s resonant voice calmly ask, “Going somewhere?”

  Her heart slammed against her chest and she froze, then slowly turned around, fury in her eyes as she glared at Morgan.

  “How long have you been awake?” she demanded.

  “The entire time that you were engineering your great escape.” She found his smile irritating beyond words. “I was never asleep.”

  Her initial surprise gave way to anger. “Then why didn’t you say something?”

  “I just wanted to see how far you were going to carry out this little pantomime of yours. I’m impressed,” he said as he rose and crossed to her. “I didn’t know you could move that quietly, or that slowly. Although, if you had made it out the door, the surveillance detail I have posted would have stopped you.”

  Damn it. She’d been so focused on getting out without waking him, she’d forgotten all about the protective detail he had told her about.

  “I’m glad you find me so entertaining, Cavanaugh,” she retorted.

  Standing beside her now, he looked down into her face. “Oh, trust me, Kowalski, I find you a lot of things.”

  For a moment, she could have sworn he was going to kiss her, the way he had when she had broken down about Claire. But then that moment was gone and her eyes were boring holes into him.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “Well, that’s up to you. But since you’re all dressed, I’d suggest that we go out and have breakfast and then begin our day. You did mention that there were some other people you wanted to talk to before you interviewed that mucky-muck who walks on pharmaceutical water.”

  He wasn’t calling Jacobs anything that she hadn’t already thought of in her head, but for the time being, she was holding her animosity in check. She didn’t know if he could do the same—and it was important for her article that he could. “I think you’ll have to put a lid on your attitude if this is going to work. Otherwise, you’ll wind up getting us kicked out of the building.”

  “Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “I can be charming if I have to be.”

  Something warm undulated through her as her eyes met his. “Yes, I know.”

  Morgan’s smile drifted up into his eyes. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  She was going to have to watch that, Krys warned herself. This wasn’t the first time he had caused her guard to slip.

  Drawing her shoulders back, she told him, “Take that any way you want to.”

  Morgan merely continued smiling at her.

  Krys was extremely glad they were about to get out of the house. The way she was feeling right now, it wasn’t safe remaining here with him. She was completely aware that there were police officers in the vicinity, watching her house—watching her—but that didn’t help her situation right now, not when Morgan was right here, up close and personal and practically in her very shadow.

  A few minutes later they were all ready to leave to grab a quick breakfast before she got started going to her interviews when Morgan’s cell phone rang.

  “Cavanaugh,” Morgan said as he swiped opened his phone.

  Morgan saw that the incoming call was from the CSI unit head. He didn’t know whether to relax or brace himself.

  “You asked me to call you when Bluebeard’s body arrived,” Sean told his nephew.

  Krys saw Morgan glance in her direction. She was instantly alert.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  Morgan didn’t bother to cover the microphone. “It’s the CSI unit chief,” he told her, then said, “The body just arrived.”

  Everything except for her two o’clock interview was immediately put on hold in her brain. She could reschedule the other interviews. This was more important.

  “Let’s go,” she urged, then headed for the front door.

  “You guessed it. She definitely wants to see the body. Right,” he confirmed. “We’re on our way.”

  Krys waited for him to open up his vehicle. “He didn’t think I’d want to come?” she asked, getting in on the passenger side. She’d thought she’d made that clear the other day.

  “It’s not that,” Morgan told her, getting in on the driver’s side. “He just didn’t think you were going to almost break your neck getting to view the dead body.”

  She looked at Morgan as he started up his vehicle. “I want to be sure it’s him, and I want to be sure he’s dead,” she told him. “Now let’s go.”

  Morgan gave her a little salute as he pulled out of her driveway. “Your wish, Kowalski, is my command.”

  Settling back in the passenger seat, she blew out a deep breath.

  “Something wrong?” Morgan asked her.


  “No, nothing,” she said. “I just still can’t believe he’s dead.”

  “Well, someone in that coffin certainly is,” he told her drolly.

  Krys stared straight ahead, different thoughts going through her head. “I spent more than nine months chasing after that man’s story, putting the pieces together, making sure that all those different men were actually one and the same person. And now I’ve got the final proof. It’s hard to believe it’s really finally over,” she said in a dazed voice. She turned to look at Morgan. “They’re sure it’s him, right?”

  “They’re sure,” he told her. “The fingerprints match. It’s him.”

  She shook her head as realization sank in. “So many families are going to be relieved. I feel like I should give Valri something for all the hard work she did,” she told Morgan suddenly.

  “Valri won’t accept it,” he told her. “She’d be the first one to tell you that she was just doing her job and that seventy-five percent of this kind of thing is pure luck.”

  “Uh-huh.” Krys slanted a look at him. “There’s no need to be so modest. There’re no points off if you or Valri don’t take a huge bite of humble pie.” She firmly believed that people needed to take credit where credit was due.

  “No humble pie,” Morgan assured her. “It’s just the way we were raised.”

  They arrived quickly. Morgan paused after he got out of his car, and he looked at Krys intently. “Are you ready for this?”

  “I’ve been ready for this for a long time,” she assured him.

  But as she got off the elevator, walking beside Morgan, her hand dropped to her side as her breath backed up in her throat.

  She felt Morgan take her hand, slipping his fingers through hers and tightening them. He didn’t say anything, but the simple action spoke volumes to her.

  Taking a deep breath, she nodded her head slightly and then began to walk down the corridor, straight to the morgue.

  Sean and Toni were waiting for them when they came into the room. Krys’s eyes were immediately drawn toward the body that was on the table.