Cavanaugh Pride

by Marie Ferrarella

  The word no hovered on his lips. But he knew if he said it, he’d be thinking with his heart, not his head. In his gut, he knew that she’d be the more convincing one. She was the one with that kind of background to draw on. It could make a difference.

  His eyes swept over her and he shook his head. “Seems a shame to dye that hair.”

  He’d given her his answer. Julianne let go of the breath she’d been holding. “It’ll grow out,” she assured him matter-of-factly.

  Frank sighed. It was a done deal. “Okay. We go with you. But we do it my way.” He had to be able to exercise some control over the situation. In his gut, he knew it wouldn’t be enough, but at least it was something.

  “Sure.”

  Julianne had agreed much too quickly, he thought, fervently hoping he wasn’t going to regret this decision.

  Too late. The words materialized out of nowhere, whispering across the perimeter of his mind.

  Chapter 14

  The stiletto heels forced her to slow down as she made her way through the doors of St. Vincent de Paul’s Homeless Shelter.

  Even mindful of her balancing act, Julianne felt amazingly calm. No nerves stretching themselves to the end of their capacity, no jitters making her stomach turn somersaults. It was almost as if this was what she’d been meant to do all along.

  Rid the world of a monster.

  Although she was by herself as she walked into the homeless shelter, Julianne knew she wasn’t alone. Somewhere out on the street, housed in a repair truck with a local cable company logo slapped on its side, Riley and Frank were listening to her every word, her every breath. She was wearing a wire. Because her clothing was of the tight, abbreviated variety, the computer tech had woven the wire into her bra.

  It chafed against her skin as she breathed, but because it represented not only safety, but a way to trap Gifford, she did her best to ignore it. She kept her breathing shallow.

  “Gifford, straight ahead,” she murmured under her breath, letting Frank know that their target had been sighted. She knew that Frank would be antsy until she said that, despite the fact that the director had shown them a schedule earlier, which clearly specified when the senior accountant, among other volunteers, would be here at the homeless shelter.

  Gifford was alone, distributing some sort of literature on vacant tables.

  Julianne sauntered over to the man, instinctively imitating the way she’d assumed her cousin had conducted herself in the presence of strangers—afraid, but doing her best not to show it.

  There was no hesitation as she confronted him. “Word on the street is that I can get a decent meal here.” With hooded eyes, she allowed her glance to go from the top of what was left of his curly hair down to his highly polished dress shoes. “That true, handsome?”

  Gifford did her one better. He looked at her for a long moment before he responded and she had the impression that she was being dissected and then put back together. Had she passed? Failed? She couldn’t readily tell from his expression.

  In any event, she’d been right. His eyes were flat. Flat and mercilessly cold despite the presence of a smile on his lips.

  “Absolutely,” he told her with no small enthusiasm. “Here, why don’t you just come with me? I’ll show you where the kitchen is.” He began to lead the way to the back of the first floor where the kitchen with its industrial appliances was. “Is this your first time at St. Vincent’s?”

  “My first time in any place like this,” Julianne retorted defensively. Her eyes challenged him to make something of it. When he didn’t, she fixed a smile to her lips. “I’ve always been able to take care of myself until now. But then—” she shrugged carelessly, as if the topic was beneath her “—the economy’s been rough on us working girls, too.”

  They’d reached the kitchen. There was no one there at the moment. Gifford walked in as if he was intimately familiar with the area. Opening the refrigerator, he took out two large pots and began to prepare a small serving of chili with rice. Last night’s dinner.

  Placing the dish on a silver-topped table where all the meals were usually prepared, he asked, “Where do you work?”

  “Here and there.” Julianne raised her eyes to his, a smirk curving her mouth. “Why? You planning on looking me up? Hoping to get some kind of a discount because you’re feeding me with someone else’s food?”

  “Just making conversation—” He paused, as if realizing that he was short some crucial information. “What did you say your name was?”

  “I didn’t.” Julianne deliberately waited a beat before telling him. “It’s Sally.”

  He pulled over a stool for her. “Sally what?”

  Julianne slid onto the stool. It surprised her that Gifford kept his eyes on her face the entire time. “Just Sally.”

  “Well, Just Sally, what does your family think about you working here and there?”

  “Who knows? Who cares?” Her tone was dismissive as she shrugged carelessly and went on eating. The chili, she thought, was fairly good. “They’re back in Oklahoma—if they’re still around.”

  “So that’s home?” he asked. “Oklahoma?”

  “It was.”

  He looked at her thoughtfully. “Ever think about going back?”

  She put herself in Mary’s shoes, reacting to the question the way she imagined her cousin would. Recoiling from the mere suggestion.

  “Hell, no. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.” And then, because her so-called benefactor appeared to be waiting for more, she added, “There’s only my mother—and a never-ending parade of men with grabby hands.”

  “And there’s nobody else to go back to?” Gifford prodding, a kindly expression on his face. When she didn’t answer immediately, he told her, “I could front you the cost of a bus ride home if you did want to go back.”

  She allowed contempt to curl her lower lip. “You’d just give it to me?”

  “It’d be a loan,” he explained. “You pay me back when you can.”

  Right. Just how naive did he think she was? There was no such thing as a free lunch. But she was curious to see what he would say, so she pushed the envelope a little further.

  “And if I stiffed you?”

  “Just a chance that I guess I’d have to take,” he told her philosophically.

  Finishing the serving, she let her spoon clatter in the bowl as she set it down. Her eyes were steely as she looked at him. “I didn’t think people like you really existed.”

  “We do,” he assured her with just the right touch of humility. She could see how Mary, hungry to trust someone might have been tempted to believe him. “There’s more of us than you think, Sally.” He dug into his pocket and held out a bill. “Here, take it,” he urged.

  She looked down and saw that he wasn’t holding out a twenty. It was a hundred-dollar bill. Was he trying to lull her into a false sense of security? That had to be it, she decided. Was this the way he’d gotten to Mary? Pretending to be a Good Samaritan?

  “Use it to help turn your life around,” he was saying to her.

  Julianne looked contemptuously at the bill, then laughed harshly at the suggestion. “It’s gonna take more than a hundred dollars to do that.”

  Her answer didn’t faze him. “Think of it as a start, then.” He urged the money on her. “Please.”

  She let suspicion enter her eyes. “And you don’t want anything from me?”

  “No.”

  Julianne pushed her plate back on the table. Rubbing against the surface, it squeaked. Her eyes on his, she grabbed the bill out of his hand. “Okay, then.” Folding the bill into a tiny square, she pushed it into her bra. “Gotta say you’re the easiest John I ever had.”

  “I’m not a John,” Gifford answered her with feeling. “I would, though, like to be your friend.”

  Yeah, right. Was that how he did it? Did he offer to befriend those lost souls before he blindsided them? “Novel approach,” she responded sarcastically. “Tell you what, friend, you’ve
got yourself a little credit,” she told him.

  He didn’t look as if he followed her meaning. “Credit?”

  “Credit,” she repeated. “The merchandise kind. You decide that you want a little something in exchange for that hundred dollars you just surrendered, you come find me.” She was certain that her smile left nothing in doubt. “We’ll talk.”

  For the first time, Julianne thought she saw something different in the suspect’s eyes. A flare of interest? Or was that something else?

  “And let’s say if I did want to come find you—to see how you were doing,” he qualified quickly, “exactly where would that be?”

  Gotcha! “Corner of McFadden and Holloway,” she told him. I’ll be the pretty one.”

  With that, she slid off the stool slowly, making sure that Gifford got more than an eyeful of her long limbs. With a seductive smile, she tugged at the bottom of her next-to-nonexistent skirt, the action exposing more than it covered.

  He looked surprised when she began to make her way to the front door again. “You’re leaving?”

  “Didn’t come here for the bed,” she told him matter-of-factly. “Just a hot meal that wouldn’t cost me nothing. Wasn’t half bad,” she added, then nodded at him. “Thanks.”

  She walked out slowly, moving her hips in a timeless, hypnotic rhythm because she knew he was watching her. Leaving the storefront shelter behind her, Julianne walked down several more blocks before she turned down into an alley. She listened carefully to the sounds of the city with its passing cars. No footsteps. Gifford wasn’t following her.

  “Come get me,” she whispered to her chest.

  “Way ahead of you.” She heard Frank’s voice in her ear, thanks to the tiny ear bud he’d hidden there. Frank had begun to follow her the moment she’d left the shelter, taking care to keep an eye out for Gifford. The accountant had remained where he was.

  Pulling up at the entrance of the alley, Frank waited for her to get in.

  “By the way,” he told her as she closed the door behind her, “talking to your chest is viewed as very sexy in some circles.”

  Julianne could feel color rising up to her cheeks. Heat marked its path. “You’ve got definite voyeuristic tendencies, McIntyre.”

  He grinned at her. “I’ve been told that once or twice.”

  Yeah, I’ll bet.

  “That was a hell of a great performance,” Riley complimented her. “I even caught Frank checking his pockets, looking for spare bills.” And then she grew serious. “You were right. That was a lot better than anything I could have done. Ever think of becoming an actress?” she posed out of the blue.

  Settling into a seat, Julianne let out a long breath. She hadn’t realized how tense she was until this very moment. So much for thinking she was calm, she silently upbraided herself.

  “Too wearing,” she commented. Turning away, she snaked her hands underneath the skimpy top and unhooked the wire. She sighed with relief as she turned back around and handed the wire over to Riley. “Got one that doesn’t chafe?”

  “Sorry.” Riley took the tiny device from her. “I don’t think they thought about that aspect when they came up with it.” She looked at her brother. “Okay, now what?”

  Getting up from the console that had helped them monitor Julianne, Frank crossed to the front of the van and got in behind the wheel. For now, they were returning to the precinct. He wasn’t going to feel at ease until this charade was over, but he knew there was no point in saying anything to Julianne. The die had been cast.

  “We wait until nightfall and then Julianne becomes a strolling hostess of the evening.” Frank started up the vehicle. “With luck, Gifford will take the bait.”

  It turned out not to be that easy. Gifford didn’t show that evening. Nor did he show the evening after that. Both nights Julianne strolled back and forth over the restricted terrain, tense and waiting while sending away more than her share of potential customers. Over the course of the two nights, she ignored a series of car horn blasts, whistles and shouted propositions of the baser variety.

  All the while, she thought about Mary, about what she had to have felt during what turned out to be the last days of her life. This, and worse, was what her cousin had been faced with night after night. The very thought deadened her soul.

  What had it done to Mary’s?

  And then one enraged would-be John charged out of his car, determined to drag Julianne into it. Watching, Frank had one hand on the door, ready to leap out of the van and come to her aid. But Riley stopped him.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “She can take care of herself,” his sister told him. “Just watch.” She indicated the screen that highlighted the corner where their camera was trained.

  “What are you, too good for me?” the John demanded, shouting into Julianne’s face.

  It was the last thing he said in an upright position. The next second, he was flipping through the air, landing flat on his back with a thud. Before he could get up, Julianne had the heel of her stiletto pressed against his throat.

  “I’m picky,” she told him. “I like to choose whose money I accept.” As if to make her point, she pressed the heel a little harder against his throat.

  “Okay, okay, I get it.” Julianne marginally withdrew her heel and the man scrambled to his feet, coughing. “Crazy bitch!” he shouted at her.

  He’d no sooner roared off in his beat-up white coupe than another car drove up. This one was a pristine dark gray sedan. The exact make and model that Gideon Gifford drove.

  Adrenaline instantly roared through her veins. Every nerve ending Julianne possessed went on tactical alert.

  Gideon Gifford pressed a button on his armrest and the window on the passenger side rolled down. He leaned toward the opening. There was a hint of admiration in his manner. “You handle yourself pretty well.”

  “He was an insulting jerk,” she said with no attempt to hide her contempt. And then she smiled at Gifford. “Not like you.” Leaning into the car, she gave him her most inviting smile. “Here to collect on that hundred dollars you lent me?”

  “Just here to talk,” he told her. Pressing another button on the armrest released all four door locks simultaneously. “Why don’t you get in?”

  She pretended to look around and assess the immediate area. “Well, it does look like a slow night,” she commented, then shrugged. “Okay.” Getting in, she turned toward him. “So, talk.”

  “Put your seat belt on,” he instructed.

  “The careful type, huh? Okay.” Pulling the belt around her, she slipped the metal tongue into the slot. It clicked into place and she sat back. “So, where are we going?” she asked.

  “Just for a drive.” He took the car out of park and stepped on the gas. The beverage he had housed in the cup holder sloshed, but didn’t spill. “Away from here.”

  “Okay, but you’re just going to have to bring me back.”

  Gifford slanted a long look at her. “We’ll see.”

  She forced a laugh. “Are you still trying to save my soul?”

  “No.” His voice was low, dangerous. “Can’t save what you don’t have.”

  She felt the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. Something was off. She could feel it. Was he switching persona? Just like that? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  In response, Gifford gunned the engine, flying through the yellow light. “It means that you shouldn’t be on this earth, taking up space. Women like you are just useless trash, ruining men’s lives,” he bit off. “Ruining families, just to feed your own needs.”

  “I don’t have to listen to this,” Julianne cried. She yanked on the door, as if trying to escape the way she knew Mary would have. The door refused to give. It was locked. She tried to pry up the lock, but it wouldn’t budge. He’d done something to it. “Open this damn door,” she demanded.

  “I will. When I’m ready.” Before she could say anything, he grabbed the paper cup from the beverage holder and threw the
contents at her chest. The wire short circuited, burning her skin. She bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from screaming.

  “That’s so your friends in the van don’t follow,” he said in a mild voice, as if he were commenting on the weather.

  He knew.

  “Stop the car, Gifford!” she ordered in a voice that rang with confident authority. He only went faster. Julianne reached for the small pistol she had strapped to her inner right thigh.

  Just as she did, Gifford accelerated and the car lunged forward. The next second, he threw it into reverse, speeding backward. Julianne was thrown forward, hitting her head on the dashboard, then back just as suddenly. The small revolver flew out of her hands.

  She heard Gifford laughing. “Scrappy little thing, aren’t you? Knew you would be the second I laid eyes on you.”

  Julianne blinked to clear her eyes. Her vision was still blurred, but she tried desperately to focus and see where they were going.

  Gifford was taking her out of the city, she realized with a sudden start. The northern portion of Aurora backed up to a game preserve that boasted of several kinds of wild animals, including a couple of mountain lions.

  He was going to kill her there.

  The terrifying thought throbbed in her head. “Stop the car, Gifford,” she ordered, summoning as much bravado as she could. “Now!”