Mission: Cavanaugh Baby

by Marie Ferrarella

  Why weren’t they calling back?

  She looked up, turning her head toward the new crib she’d purchased for this newest infant she’d brought into her life. Her head was splitting, and she could barely keep her eyes open.

  The pain was getting worse, throbbing throughout her head.

  “Why can’t you be quiet like your sisters? They know when to stop crying. Why don’t you?”

  In response, the infant only wailed louder.

  The woman took in a deep breath, willing herself to calm down.

  The next moment she was on her feet, shuffling over to the source of all the discord within the nursery.

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I know you’re not feeling well, and I shouldn’t be raising my voice at you this way. It’s just that it’s been a long time since I heard so much crying, and I forgot just how much it got on my nerves. Your sisters are quiet. I thought you would be, too.

  “I’ll be more patient, I promise. But you have to try to stop crying, understand?” Her voice was shaky as she continued. “Otherwise, I don’t know if I can be responsible for the way I react. I don’t want to do anything bad to you, but you’re peeling away all my nerves.”

  Her words had no effect on the infant she was addressing. If anything, the crying just grew steadily louder.

  Hovering over the infant, leaning over the railing, she raised her hand, ready to strike, ready to do anything to make the noise finally stop.

  At the last moment she backed away and grabbed the figure lying in the crib to her left. She clutched Adele against her ample chest. Just feeling her soft skin made her start to calm down.

  “C’mon, Adele,” she said to the tiny bundle in her arms. “Let’s get out of here before I do something I can’t undo.”

  Adele responded by trying to grasp her finger. The woman smiled as she exited the nursery. “You always know how to cheer me up, Adele. I’m sorry I brought Sara into our lives. She’s keeping you up, isn’t she?”

  Adele just continued holding on to her finger.

  * * *

  If Andrew Cavanaugh looked surprised to see the young man standing at his front door, he gave no indication. Instead he greeted Shane the way he did all the members of his family: with warmth and cheer.

  “C’mon in. It looks like it’s about to pour any minute,” he proclaimed. “The sky looks positively angry.” Andrew glanced at the ominous streaks of dark gray and navy one last time before he closed the door. And then he asked the question he was most known for. “Hungry?”

  Shane laughed. Incredible. His father had been right on the money. He’d thought that it was a joke. Until now, of course. “He told me you’d say that.”

  “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that, Shane,” Andrew told him. “We’ve got a lot of ‘hes’ in the family.”

  Shane looked at him in surprise. “You know who I am?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Andrew asked, mildly amused that the young man would think that he didn’t.

  “Like you said, there are a lot of ‘hes’ in the family,” Shane pointed out. On top of that, most of the men had the same dark hair, the same light green eyes. That made differentiation difficult.

  “Doesn’t mean I can’t tell one from the other,” Andrew laughed. “My eyesight’s not failing, and neither is my mind. I’m not that old, boy.”

  “Didn’t mean to imply that you were, sir.” That wasn’t exactly the way one went about setting the stage to ask for a favor, and he did want a favor. More than he first realized, now that he was actually about to ask. “And it was my dad who said that the first thing you’d do once you opened the door was to ask me if I wanted something to eat.”

  Andrew led the way into the kitchen out of habit. The kitchen was the place that he most frequently conducted any sort of business, now that he was no longer the chief of police.

  He wasn’t alone, Shane realized. The most senior member of the family, Shamus Cavanaugh, was there, as well, having coffee and a pastry that Shane assumed was homemade.

  The family patriarch nodded at Shane as he came in behind Andrew.

  “Do you?” Andrew asked, turning around to face him. “Want something to eat?” he repeated when Shane looked at him with a trace of confusion.

  The confusion vanished as Shane shook his head. The last thing he was thinking about was eating. Hunger had no place here. “No, sir, I’m good.”

  Shamus was openly studying him as Shane came to the table.

  “Which one are you?” he asked. “I’m not like him,” he explained, nodding at his oldest son. “I haven’t learned to keep all the faces straight yet. You were all a lot younger when I left for that miserable retirement hellhole in Florida.”

  “It wasn’t a hellhole, Dad,” Andrew said patiently. It had been his father’s idea to retire to Florida in the first place, but he and Brian had checked the place out before their father had initially moved there. The reports from relatives of residents had been glowing. “It just wasn’t exciting enough for the likes of you.”

  Shamus laughed dryly. “Now there’s an understatement. Bunch of old people sitting around, listening to their bones creak. Life’s too short to waste time like that,” the older man complained. He looked accusingly at Andrew as he nodded toward Shane. “I still don’t know which one this is.”

  Shane leaned over, offering his hand to the older man. He was surprised at how firm the handshake was. Older or not, the man’s grip was still strong. “I’m Shane, sir.”

  Bushy eyebrows drew together in a single wavy, puzzled line. He looked at Andrew again. “Which one does he belong to?”

  “He’s one of Sean’s sons, Dad,” Andrew told him patiently, pouring a large mug of exceptionally strong coffee.

  “Sean. The new guy,” Shamus said, more for his own benefit than for anyone else’s.

  “Not exactly the new guy,” Andrew countered. “But yes, for argument’s sake, he’s the new guy. Here,” he said to Shane, pushing the steaming mug into his hand. Taking his nephew’s free hand, he deliberately placed it around the mug, as well. “You’re going to need this,” Andrew hinted, slanting a telltale glance toward his father.

  “Don’t go filling his head with nonsense,” Shamus warned, knowing exactly what his son was saying to the newcomer. Turning toward his grandson, Shamus told him, “He’s just bent out of shape because he can’t keep up with me.”

  “Don’t mind him,” Andrew advised Shane as he topped off his own mug of coffee. “He loves an audience. Now then, what is it that I can do for you?” he asked his nephew. “You definitely didn’t come over to listen to the old man rant.”

  “Speak for yourself!” Shamus grumbled, raising his voice.

  Andrew smiled. He’d gotten good at tuning his father out since the man had returned from Florida. It was a handy skill, given that they were now both engaged in trying to track down his father’s long-lost brother. His father and uncle had lost track of one another more than half a century ago, when their parents had gone through an acrimonious split, each taking a son with them.

  “So, what brings you here on such an inclement day?” Andrew asked.

  Shane tested the waters slowly. “Dad said that you like to throw parties.”

  “Like to?” Shamus echoed, a dry laugh escaping, sounding almost like a cackle. “Does the Mona Lisa look like she’s fighting trapped gas?”

  “Eloquent as always, Dad,” Andrew commented with a shake of his head. “But in his own unique way, what your grandfather just said was right. There is nothing I like better than throwing a party for the people whom I hold dear.” Andrew got comfortable on the counter stool. “What did you have in mind?”

  Shane figured he needed to clear something up first. “Well, this isn’t exactly for someone you know.”

  And
rew inclined his head. He was not a stickler about things. “Is it for someone you know?”

  “Yes, sir, it is.” Not only that, but it was for someone he was hoping that he would get to know a whole lot better, he admitted to himself.

  “Same thing,” Andrew assured him. “Any particular theme or reason for the party?” he asked then, eyeing his nephew a bit more closely. “You’re not looking to throw an engagement party for yourself and a lucky young lady, are you, Shane?”

  The question threw Shane for a second, and all he could do was stare at his newly found uncle. “What? Um, no, it’s not like that,” he told the former chief, recovering. “That is, I mean, that’s not the kind of party I was looking to have.”

  There was a strange, rather knowing smile curving his uncle’s lips before Andrew gestured for him to lean forward. When he complied, Andrew told him, “Maybe you should start at the beginning. I’ll try not to interrupt,” Andrew promised him with an encouraging wink.

  Shamus laughed, clearly entertained by this halting exchange. “Good luck with that,” he said to Shane by way of an aside.

  Andrew looked at the older man. “That goes for you, too, Dad. You interrupt and make more noise than an oncoming train.”

  “The hell I do. I’m quieter than a church mouse,” Shamus responded, pretending to focus on the contents of his own coffee mug. The sly glance he directed at Shane gave him away.

  Shane smiled to himself just before he got started. Unknown to the other two men, this exchange just served to reinforce the thought that this was exactly what his temporary partner needed to be exposed to.

  Getting comfortable, Shane began at the beginning, just as Andrew had told him to.

  * * *

  Ashley looked at the man it seemed that fate had thrown her together with. They had methodically been going down the list of the baby boutique clients who had favored dealing with Monica while continuing to try to find other leads. Following the ones that had come up, they were making no headway exploring either path.

  More than a week had gone by. A week where the only thing she’d discovered was that she was finding herself increasingly more attracted to the partner she was working with. Moreover, supposedly intent on solving the murder and finding the missing infant, Ashley found herself silently dreading it at the same time because then she would be going back to her position in Animal Control. And while she loved working with animals, and had an actual gift for it according to a couple of the other officers who worked with her, it meant that her reason for working with Shane would be gone.

  Until she had begun, she had thought she would be content working in this somewhat isolated world she inhabited. But now she looked forward to going in to work for another reason: dhe would be working with Shane.

  This had to stop. She couldn’t lose sight of the fact that she was an Animal Control officer, not a probationary detective-in-training.

  Maybe someday, but not now.

  She wasn’t one who allowed fantasies to govern her life. She was a realist.

  To get herself back in gear, she’d come in today, a Saturday, determined to make some sort of headway in the case that was threatening to go cold on them if they didn’t crack it soon. She’d heard more than once that the more time that went by, the less likely it was that a kidnapped child would be found alive.

  At this point, Ashley admitted to herself that for whatever psychological reason, she identified with the abducted infant.

  Granted, no one had slashed her out of her mother’s womb, but she had still found herself motherless, as well as fatherless, at an age where she could not recall having any family whatsoever. As far as she was concerned, it went without saying that the person who had kidnapped the infant and killed her mother was not someone who should be left to raise a child. It was a person who thought nothing of killing to get what he or she—and she was leaning toward she—wanted.

  “I came in today to see if I could get anywhere on the case,” she told him in response to his question about what she was doing here on a Saturday.

  She couldn’t begin to guess why he’d been looking for her the way he’d claimed he was when he walked into the office, an exasperated expression on his face.

  Oh, she knew why she wanted him to be looking for her, but she was intelligent enough to know that she would be dealing in fantasy, not reality, when it came to that.

  She realized she was holding her breath, waiting for him to say something.

  Shane forced himself to look calm. After getting Andrew to throw together a party, he would have been utterly embarrassed if he couldn’t produce the person who the party was for. But she hadn’t picked up when he called her cell, and when he’d gone by her house, she hadn’t been there. Coming to the office had been his final attempt to find her. If she hadn’t been here, he wouldn’t have known where to look.

  The tension within him began to abate. “That’s really commendable, but you might get further if you stopped for a while and recharged your batteries.”

  “My batteries are just fine,” she informed him. “And if you’re worried about having to stay here with me, don’t be. You can go back to your Saturday. I’m a big girl, I don’t need a babysitter. I promise not to steal the silverware,” she quipped. “Or plastic ware, as the case may be,” she amended, thinking of what was available in the break room.

  Rather than retreat, the way she thought Shane would, he moved around to the back of her chair and drew it—and her—away from the desk. Startled, she cried, “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to get you to take a break,” he told her. “Humor me.”

  “Is that part of the job description, humoring you?” she asked, not knowing whether she was amused, intrigued or just plain annoyed. There was something about this man that threw her whole world off kilter, set it on its ear and just got to her the way no one else ever had.

  “It is today,” he informed her cheerfully. “Weekends are for recharging and for getting different perspectives on things,” he told her.

  “What kind of different perspectives?” She almost yelped as she was all but deposited on the floor when Shane tilted her chair forward. She grabbed the armrests just as she started to slide forward.

  He loosened her grip on the armrests, forcing her to plant her feet firmly on the floor. It was either that, or have her butt meet said floor. “Come with me and you’ll see.”

  Left with no other choice, Ashley grabbed her bag. Less than a second later, Shane was steering her toward the doorway.

  “Does insanity run in your family?” she demanded as she was being hustled out.

  “Lots of things run in my family,” he informed her calmly.

  “Terrific,” she muttered.

  But he heard her and spared her a glance just before they headed out.

  “Yeah,” he told her. “Actually, it is.”

  “And just what’s that supposed to mean?”

  He made no effort to enlighten her. Instead all he would tell her was, “You’ll see.”

  A weary sigh slipped out. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “Now you know that’s not true,” Shane contradicted. “You’re not afraid of anything.”

  Despite the fact that she didn’t try to dispute what he’d just said, Ashley definitely was afraid of something.

  She was afraid of what she was beginning to feel for him.

  Chapter 15

  “Exactly where are we going?” Ashley asked, feeling herself growing restless and antsy in the passenger seat of his car.

  Shane had talked her into leaving her car parked at the police station and going with him in the sedan rather than following him in her own small, close-to-ancient white Corolla. She had a feeling he’d insisted on taking her because he was afraid that she’d just make a U-turn somewhere alo
ng the line and head back to the precinct. This way he could control her.

  She really didn’t care for the thought. She’d been in control of her life ever since she’d turned eighteen, and she liked the fact that she didn’t answer to anyone if she didn’t choose to.

  Part of being in control was knowing where you were going, and she didn’t.

  She glanced through the window. They appeared to be traveling through a residential area. Maybe Shane had changed his mind and decided she was right. They should work through the weekend, continuing to question more of the victim’s legion of customers. So far, they hadn’t had any luck, but there was always the hope that they might.

  She’d never been an optimist by nature, but there was this small kernel within her, a tiny grain of hope that flowered on occasion. Sometimes it even mystified her that it did, but there was no denying its existence.

  But if Shane was planning on doing more interviews, why wasn’t he telling her as much? What was with this big mysterious act?

  Shane spared her a glance. “You’ll find out,” he promised with a smile.

  The smile was making her crazy. “You said that fifteen minutes ago.”

  “And I still mean it,” he told her mildly. “Nothing’s changed except that fifteen minutes have gone by,” he pointed out cheerfully. “If you’re going to be a detective, Ashley, you’re going to have to learn how to be patient.”

  “And if you want to go on breathing,” she informed him tersely, “you’ll stop playing games and answer my question.”

  “I did answer your question,” he pointed out, completely unfazed by her tone. “I just didn’t give you the answer you were looking for.”

  She frowned. Now he was just bandying words about. “You sound a hell of a lot more like a lawyer than a detective.”

  “We’ve got a lawyer in the family,” he told her, thinking of the chief of detectives’ daughter, Janelle. “As well as a couple of judges.” Those had married into the family. “Maybe it rubs off.”