Cavanaugh Watch

by Marie Ferrarella

  The downpour had come out of nowhere. Just like her father’s revelation.

  Her father. What did she call him now? Brian? Chief? He wasn’t really her dad anymore. And yet, in the truest sense of the word, in the truest spirit, he really was.

  Damn, she had never been this confused in her entire life.

  After getting the door open, she walked in and immediately flipped on the light switch. Without thinking, she shook her head, sending raindrops flying from her hair.

  “I’ll get a towel,” she volunteered as she hurried over to the small linen closet just outside her bedroom door.

  Sawyer shucked his jacket and threw it over the back of the closest kitchen chair. His jeans adhered to him like a second skin. “Make it a big one.”

  It took her a second to realize what he was saying. Of course, she hadn’t meant they’d be making use of the same towel at the same time.

  “I’ll get two towels,” she corrected. Once she pulled them out, she crossed back to him and handed Sawyer a large, light blue bath towel. “You should have gone to your car,” she told him as she rubbed the towel against her hair.

  Sawyer did what he could with the towel, but it was clear they were both going to have to change their clothes. He looked over toward her, trying not to notice that her blouse became transparent when wet.

  “Don’t like me dripping on your rug?”

  “It’s not that.” She rubbed the towel against her face, then retired it. “But you could be on your way home by now.”

  He had a change of clothes here, and there was no reason for him to leave tonight. He supposed that she was too upset to see the situation logically. “Nothing at home that won’t keep.”

  Finished for now, Sawyer draped the towel around his neck, wrapping his fingers around the ends. It amazed him how wet they’d gotten in just a short hundred yards. Especially her. Janelle’s clothing was sticking to her torso in ways that fired a man’s imagination. He would have been less than human not to notice. And superhuman if it didn’t affect him.

  He allowed himself a moment, then raised his eyes to hers. “I’d better change into something dry. You, too,” he advised.

  She shrugged. Right now, it was all she could do to concentrate on breathing. Anything else seemed like too much of an effort. It took several seconds for her brain to catch up and process what he’d just said. Sawyer was going to change clothes. But he’d only get them wet again when he went to his car.

  The light dawned. “Aren’t you going home?”

  He looked at her patiently, an adult allowing a child to prattle on. “No.”

  There was no reason for him to stay any longer, although she had to admit that the prospect of being alone with her thoughts was not nearly as desirable as it had been half an hour ago.

  “But I don’t need a bodyguard anymore,” she reminded him. “I’m going to ask the D.A. to take me off the case.” With any luck, citing “personal” reasons would be enough for Kleinmann. She was not about to tell him the real reason.

  Damn, but he wished she’d go and change already. Or stand where the light didn’t bathe over her body that way. “Wayne’s men don’t know that,” Sawyer replied mildly. “Nothing’s changed.”

  “Except for everything,” she whispered. Her knees felt like soggy cotton and she sank down on the sofa.

  Sawyer watched as a damp imprint formed on the cushion around the perimeter of her thighs. He doubted she was even aware of it. But he was. Damn, but he was.

  He forced his thoughts elsewhere. “If the chief hadn’t told you about it, nothing would have changed,” he told her.

  “But he did tell me.”

  “That’s the only thing that’s changed,” Sawyer pointed out. “Your knowledge of the situation. The chief isn’t going to suddenly treat you differently, your brothers aren’t. Nobody’s going to step out of the equation if you don’t take yourself out of it first.”

  She supposed it made sense. She wanted to believe what he was saying to her. But she just felt so shell-shocked, it was hard to hang on to any sort of stabilizing thought.

  Janelle looked at him, wondering why he was being so nice to her. He’d always acted as if he couldn’t wait for this assignment to be over; now he was comforting her. “Why do you care?”

  “I don’t,” he replied simply. “I just don’t like illogical behavior.” And he liked the lost look in her eyes even less. He supposed he might still react to the human condition. There was no other reason why he was trying to get her to come around. “Now get up off the sofa and get out of those wet clothes.”

  He watched the smallest hint of a smile bloom on her lips. “Are you coming on to me, Detective?”

  Sawyer shoved his hands into his back pockets. They were wet and made the relatively innocuous movement more difficult.

  “When I do, Cavanaugh, you won’t have to ask,” was all he said.

  When. Not if, when.

  Janelle had no idea why, in the midst of all the turmoil swirling around her, that single word somehow made her feel better. She was punchy and tired. And hollow beyond belief.

  With a nod, Janelle rose to her feet. She noticed he made no effort to back away, no effort to either give her her space, or take it over. He remained where he was. Watching her walk out.

  She paused and turned around just before she opened her bedroom door. “Detective.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

  Was it her imagination or was his voice softer somehow? Gentler. Right now, she doubted every single thing she’d thought she once knew. She needed an anchor and there wasn’t one. But he’d been kind when it wasn’t in his nature, and she appreciated this.

  “Thank you.” She closed the door to her room before he could respond.

  Stephen Woods looked at her incredulously. She would have rather gone to Kleinmann with this, but there’d been a sudden personal emergency. Something about the D.A.’s mother taking a turn for the worse. Janelle knew that the woman had been ill for some time. Kleinmann and his wife had left for New York on a predawn flight, forcing Janelle to seek out Woods instead.

  “You want to be taken off of the Wayne case?” Woods asked.

  Want was the wrong word, she thought. Need was more like it. “Yes.” She nodded.

  Woods leaned over his desk, alert and concerned. He was a nice man beneath the pompous veneer, she thought. “Did something happen, Janelle? We can double the number of people guarding—”

  “No, nothing happened.” At least not in the sense that Woods meant it. No one had shot at her. She would have actually preferred that to learning what she’d learned.

  And then a knowing look came over his thin, sharp features. “It’s that detective, isn’t it? Boone. Really raw and rough around the edges.” He nodded his perfectly coiffured head. “He’d be hard for anyone to deal with. We could request someone else for you.”

  “It’s not him,” she said. Damn, she hated asking for a favor, no matter what the reason behind it was. “This is personal.” Woods looked at her. She could almost see his mind working, trying to puzzle things out. She decided to go with a lesser truth. Who would have known the very thing that had caused her world to blow up would turn out to be her saving grace? “Marco Wayne called me.”

  Woods’s jaw dropped as if it had suddenly become unhinged. “He what?”

  “Marco Wayne called me. Here at the office.” She knew numbers would be checked. They needed to be above reproach on this, above any appearances of wrongdoing or impropriety. “Said that his son was innocent, that he wanted a fair trial for the kid.” She pretended to shrug carelessly. “You know, the usual things a father would say.”

  Woods snorted. “Except that he’s a major crime figure.”

  “He’s still a father,” Janelle insisted. Wayne had sounded sincere when he’d spoken to her. Maybe it was all part of an act, but having been raised in an atmosphere where family came first, she could understand even an organized-crime lieutenant feeling
concerned. “Anyway,” she continued, “even though nothing improper was said, the very fact that he did call me might be something the defense will want to use against the case we have. So, I thought that in the interest of making sure that this isn’t thrown out of court on some shaky, fabricated technicality, I’d take myself off the case.”

  Woods leaned back in his chair and blew out a breath, his small brown eyes never leaving her face. “I don’t know what to say, Janelle. This is the biggest case of your career.”

  It was, she thought. Until everything had been turned upside down. “I know.”

  He shook his head in wonder. “I must say, you Cavanaughs are an altruistic bunch.”

  You Cavanaughs. The words echoed in her head, mocking her.

  “Yes,” she finally replied, “we are.”

  Except that she wasn’t part of the “we” anymore, no matter what kind of arguments Detective Boone raised to the contrary.

  The ache in her chest grew larger.

  Sawyer wasn’t in her office when she returned from her meeting with Woods. Gone, she thought. Like a thief in the night. She would have expected Sawyer to have at least offered a civil goodbye. But, she supposed he didn’t want to waste any time putting distance between them.

  Either that, or he’d gotten a call from his superior, reassigning him.

  Janelle crossed over to the chair that he’d occupied for the last few weeks and stared at it. After seeing him there for so long, it seemed odd to have him gone. If she took in a deep breath, she could still smell the barest hint of his cologne. His scent.

  She blew out a breath. Get a grip, Nelle.

  He’d left his jacket, she realized.

  It took her only a second of debating, if that long, before she jettisoned her honorable inclination and began going through the pockets. If she was lucky, the book he’d been reading all this time would still be there.

  “Looking for something?”

  She was surprised she didn’t yelp. As it was, he’d startled her and she dropped the jacket as she swung around. She could feel color and heat creeping up her cheeks.

  “I thought you’d left.” The statement came out surprisingly devoid of any stammering, especially considering that her insides felt as if they’d been dumped into a blender and left on high.

  “I did.” Crossing to her, Sawyer picked up the jacket. She didn’t see any amusement in his eyes. No condemnation, either. “To the bathroom,” he elaborated. “Even superheroes have to go once in a while.”

  She had no idea why she was happy that he hadn’t just vanished out of her life without a whisper. It shouldn’t have mattered to her one way or another. If anything, she should have felt relieved when she’d thought he was gone, not had this oddly sad sensation echoing through her.

  Janelle pushed forward to the inevitable parting. Like tearing off a Band-Aid, she needed to do this quickly. “I told Woods and he’s taking me off the case.”

  Still holding his jacket, he studied her for a second, then nodded. “You told him that Wayne called you.”

  That shouldn’t have been his first guess and she didn’t like the fact that Sawyer seemed so confident that he could read her so easily. Especially since he could.

  “How did you know?” she asked.

  “Logic.” He looked down at the jacket she’d been rifling through when he’d walked in. “I didn’t take you for a pickpocket.”

  She hated getting caught. This was not one of her better days. “I just wanted to see what you were reading.”

  He patted the pocket, but left the book inside. “Curiosity killed the cat.”

  She always thought of that as a stupid saying. “I’m bigger than a cat—and more resourceful,” she added. Then waited.

  After a beat, a slow, lazy smile moved over his lips, curving it. Reaching into the right pocket, he took out a book that was close to shapeless from countless readings. He held it up to her.

  “Henry V?” Janelle read, then raised her eyes to his. “Shakespeare? You’re reading Shakespeare?” Sawyer did not look like the Shakespeare type.

  “Man’s got interesting things to say,” Sawyer replied, answering the quizzical expression on her face. Slipping the jacket on, he shoved the book back into his pocket. “Stay safe, Cavanaugh,” he said as he made his way to the door.

  She nodded. “You, too.”

  He was leaving, she thought, just the way she’d wanted him to since the first moment he’d walked into her life.

  The office felt empty the minute he was on the other side of the door.

  In place of the Wayne case, Janelle was quickly assigned two new cases. She spent the remainder of the day acquainting herself with the particulars of both. Lunch came in; she did not go out.

  The first case was a hit-and-run involving a homeless man and a female advertising executive on her way up. The woman had clearly panicked and fled the scene of the crime. Her bad fortune was that there had been an eye witness at the taco stand across the street. The other case had to do with a difference of opinion over a baseball game at a trendy sports bar. The argument had gotten out of hand and one patron had beaten the other within an inch of his life. Plenty of witnesses, lots of different viewpoints.

  Her head began to ache just after one o’clock. By the end of the day, when added to her already significant caseload, the two new cases left her feeling overwhelmed. And strangely empty.

  When Janelle finally made her way out of the building to the rear parking lot, it was almost eight. Only a few cars pockmarked the lot. She guessed that even the parking structure was close to empty. Most of the people who worked in the building preferred the structure. It was cooler in the summer, warmer in the winter and it protected vehicles from the elements, more importantly, from the sun. But she liked being out in the open.

  Too many spooky movies as a kid, she supposed, mocking herself.

  She noticed the black stretch limousine at the same time that the sound of her footsteps mingling with someone else’s registered. It took her a second to remember that she no longer had a shadow. Sawyer wasn’t there to haunt her every move.

  The second she turned around, a big, burly man with a lived-in face and in a rumpled dark suit took hold of her arm. He smelled faintly of onions when he spoke.

  “Mr. Wayne would like a word with you.”

  Startled, she looked at him. He had enough lines on his face to qualify him as an honorary shar-pei. Another man seemed to materialize out of the darkness, taking her other arm. Between them, she was hustled over to a waiting black limousine.

  “We’re not that far from the police department,” she warned them, adding, “I’m not on the case anymore.” She might as well have been reciting the Korean alphabet. Her words seemed to bounce off the two men. Neither even indicated that they heard her.

  The door to the limousine opened and she was deposited roughly inside. The next second, the door closed and she found herself sealed in with the other occupant in the rear of the vehicle.

  The air-conditioning was on in the car. The man sitting at the opposite end of the richly upholstered seat had on a camel-colored topcoat. It was unbuttoned and the suit beneath would have probably paid the salaries of five uniformed policemen for a month.

  She’d heard that Marco Wayne liked nothing but the best. Tolerated nothing less. He had a full head of silver hair and the look of a man who had long since stopped trusting anyone.

  Still, time had been kind to him. He didn’t look his age. She’d done her research on him last night, finding out all she could. Knowledge was thought to be power. Janelle didn’t feel like someone in power, but she did her best not to show it.

  Janelle met his gaze dead-on, knowing that to look away would be an indication of fear. Marco Wayne did not respect people who feared.

  “I’m not on the case anymore, Mr. Wayne.”

  His head inclined ever so slightly. His voice was rich when he spoke. “I know.”

  How had it become public knowledge s
o fast? Or did he have someone on the inside? The news media hadn’t approached her for a comment. They would have if the story had been broken. So that meant that Wayne had someone reporting to him from inside the D.A.’s office. Which in turn meant they were all vulnerable.

  She’d think about that later. Right now, she needed to get out of this limousine in one piece. She took solace in the fact that the car wasn’t moving. “Then you know there’s nothing I can do.”

  “Now that, I don’t know,” Wayne contradicted. There was a smile on his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m told that you are very resourceful. That you don’t just go with the flow, take someone else’s word for things. You examine, dissect.”

  “Meaning?”

  He leaned forward just an inch. “Meaning that Tony was framed. Someone else’s words put him behind bars.”

  She wasn’t going to bring out the violins just yet. “That and the kilo of coke found in his possession,” she reminded him.

  Wayne’s dark eyes narrowed into slits. “That was planted.”

  “Why?” Janelle asked. “By who?” If he wanted her to believe him, then he was going to have to come up with something better than just his word. She needed evidence to the contrary, motive, something to work with.

  Wayne nodded, as if he expected nothing less from someone with his blood. This time, the smile she saw take hold looked genuine. As if she’d passed some unknown test and he approved of her.

  “Tony’s a good boy,” he told her. “I’ve kept him as far away from my business as possible.” Business, she thought, what an odd term for extortion and trafficking in flesh peddling and drugs. “I’m sure you know that I’m number two in the organization.”

  Was he trying to impress her? Scare her? Flatter her? “I’ve done my homework on you,” she responded.

  “Backbiting and the elimination of competition doesn’t just happen in the corporate world,” Wayne informed her.

  She tried to make sense of what he was telling her. “Are you saying someone has it in for you, so they’re trying to destroy your son?”