The Cavanaugh Code

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Something like that,” he agreed.

  Time to stop dancing, she decided. She’d already spent too much time getting next to nothing. “What is your grandfather’s name and where can I find him if I want to talk to him?”

  “His name’s Chester Laredo,” a familiar, deep voice behind her said.

  Taylor didn’t need to turn around to know that the voice belonged to her stepfather. At the same time, she thought to herself, so much for the mystery of why Laredo’s middle name was Chester.

  The next moment, Brian Cavanaugh, Aurora’s chief of detectives, came around her desk, extending his hand to the man she’d been trying to pump for information. Brian smiled broadly at Laredo.

  “Frank mentioned he saw you here. How are you, Laredo?” he asked warmly, shaking the younger man’s hand. “And what’s your grandfather up to these days?”

  “I’m fine and he’s been running a security firm for the last five years,” Laredo told him, sitting down again.

  “A security firm?” Brian laughed, shaking his head. “I never thought he’d leave The Company. I thought they’d have to take him out, feet first.”

  “He thought it was time,” Laredo told him. “He didn’t think he could move as fast as he used to.”

  “Chet?” Brian asked incredulously. “That man could pop open any lock and disappear faster than anyone I ever knew.”

  That would explain the handcuffs, Taylor suddenly thought. And then the initial sentence played itself over in her head.

  “The Company?” Taylor echoed, looking from her stepfather to the man at her desk. “Your grandfather was with the—”

  “Yes,” Laredo said, cutting her off before she could mention the CIA. “He doesn’t like it getting around these days. Afraid it might scare off more clients than it attracts,” he explained.

  Brian looked as if that made perfect sense to him. “Well, tell him I said hello and if he ever feels like catching up, he knows where to find me.”

  Okay, this was another new turn, Taylor thought. What did Brian have to do with a member of the CIA? “Catching up?” she asked.

  Brian left it deliberately vague. “We collaborated a couple of times back in the day.”

  Taylor blew out a breath. She wasn’t going to get any more than that and she knew it. For all his affability, Brian Cavanaugh was extremely closemouthed when he wanted to be.

  She moved on. “So you’re vouching for him?” She nodded at Laredo as she asked.

  “Absolutely. I’ve known Laredo for as long as I’ve known you,” he told her. “Bounced you both on my knee—just not at the same time,” Brian added with the wink that she knew was her mother’s undoing. Brian shifted his eyes toward Laredo. “If I can help you in any way, just let me know.”

  “I’ll do that,” Laredo promised. “But right now, I’ve got no complaints with the way Detective McIntyre is taking care of me.”

  Brian smiled, affection brimming in his eyes as he looked at his older stepdaughter.

  “Never doubted it for a moment. She’s one of our finest. Good seeing you again, Laredo,” Brian repeated just as his cell phone began to ring. He sighed. “No rest for the weary,” were his parting words as he walked away quickly, taking out his phone. “Cavanaugh here.”

  “He’s a great guy,” Laredo said to her. There was genuine admiration in his voice. There, at least, Taylor thought, they were in agreement.

  “Yes, I know.” She turned her attention back to the man at her desk. “I guess if he vouches for you, I can trust you.” She couldn’t help the grudging note that came into her voice.

  “With your life.” Laredo sounded completely serious as he said it.

  But she still couldn’t help wondering if he meant it, or was trying to throw her off. Ordinarily, if Brian vouched for someone, that was enough for her. But something about the way Laredo looked at her had her struggling to keep her guard up.

  For the second time, she told herself to wrap it up. She had witnesses she needed to question and an investigation to kick off. Damn, but she missed Aaron. The man wasn’t due back for another six weeks. They stretched out before her like a long, lonely desert.

  “All right,” she announced to Laredo, “if you have nothing else to tell me—”

  The same sexy, lazy smile traveled along his lips, straight into her nervous system.

  “I have lots of things to tell you,” he assured her, his voice deliberately lower than it had been, carrying only the length of her desk. “Preferably over a lobster dinner with soft music in the background and some champagne chilling beside the table.”

  Nine times out of ten, that line probably worked, she thought. But not on her. “You’re a player.”

  He smiled. If it bothered him to be caught, he didn’t show it. “When the occasion arises. The rest of the time, I’m pragmatic.”

  You had to admire a guy who didn’t give up, she thought despite herself. “And plying me with liquor would be which?”

  He looked at her for a long moment before saying, “A little bit of both, most likely.”

  If she hung around him any longer, she was in danger of getting lost in those blue eyes, Taylor warned herself. “Well, I have a job to do, so if you’ll excuse me.” With that, she rose to her feet.

  Laredo did the same. And as she went out of the squad room, he was right there, his steps shadowing hers until they both reached the elevator.

  She had no recollection of issuing an invitation, Taylor thought.

  Pressing the down button, she turned to face him. “Look, if you think you’re coming with me just because my stepfather bounced you on his knee—”

  A touch of surprise entered his eyes. “Brian Cavanaugh’s your stepfather?”

  It was something she assumed everyone knew because, in the world she inhabited, for the most part they did. “Yes.”

  He nodded, as if approving. “Your mother’s got a good man.”

  She was not going to get sidetracked. “Be that as it may, you’re not coming with me.”

  “I didn’t think I was.”

  She pressed the down button again. “Then why are you following me?”

  “I’m not,” he told her innocently.

  Where was the damn elevator? There weren’t that many floors. “Right.”

  “In case it might have slipped your notice, ‘Detective,’ cars are supposed to be parked outside the building and I haven’t trained mine to come when I call so, consequently, if I want to use it, I have to go to the car.” He gave her an amused look. “Same as you, I suspect.”

  She was about to press for the elevator a third time when it arrived. She saw that the car was almost filled to capacity. Ordinarily, she would have waited for the next car, but she wanted to get away from this man as quickly as possible. So she slipped into the car, trying to make the most of the space that was available.

  As did he.

  Taylor discovered that ignoring a man she found herself pressed up against was next to impossible no matter how hard she tried.

  Chapter 4

  H ours later, out in the field, Taylor could swear she could still feel the blush from that morning creeping up her neck. It lingered, breathing color along her cheeks as they traveled down in the elevator to the first floor.

  To his credit, Laredo had made no reference to being packed against her like an amorous sardine, but it was obvious that he was thinking about it. One look at the smile in his eyes told her that.

  Damn annoying man, Taylor thought now, not for the first time. If her stepfather and Frank hadn’t indirectly vouched for Laredo by the way they’d both greeted and interacted with the man, J. C. Laredo would have definitely been at the top of her list of suspects to investigate. She wasn’t sure if she would have bought into his story about investigating Eileen’s murder as a favor to his grandfather if it hadn’t been for them.

  Even so, she still might look into his background once she finished interviewing the people on the victim’s list of clients. S
he’d been doing that for a good part of the day, as well as talking to the other tenants in Eileen’s building. So far, she felt as if she was just spinning her wheels. Slowly.

  After getting back into her car, Taylor closed the door and then just sat there for a moment, looking over the remaining names on the list of clients. Because they were all celebrities of varying degrees, getting past their bodyguards and arranging for a few minutes of conversation was turning out to be almost a Herculean effort. She wouldn’t mind if she felt that this helped the investigation, but it didn’t.

  A gut feeling told her that she was probably just wasting her time. Maybe she needed to talk to Eileen’s mother.

  That was when it occurred to Taylor that she’d been so eager to get away from Laredo, she had completely forgotten to ask for Carole Stevens’s address.

  With a sigh, she dug out the card the private investigator had pressed into her hand just before they parted company.

  “In case you change your mind and decide you want to collaborate,” he’d said, punctuating his statement with a rather unsettling wink just before he’d sauntered off to his car.

  She recalled thinking, almost against her will, that Laredo had the tightest butt she’d ever seen on a man. That was when she’d almost thrown his card away. But there weren’t any trash containers in the immediate vicinity, so she’d temporarily stuffed it into her jacket pocket.

  Looking now at the plain white card with its bold, raised black lettering, Taylor read the cell number twice, repeating it under her breath before putting it into her own phone.

  The phone on the other end rang four times. She was fairly certain it would go to voice mail, but then she heard a noise. The next moment, a deep male voice rumbled against her ear and she was certain she had the real deal, not a recording.

  “Laredo.”

  Something suddenly and unexpectedly tightened in her gut. Annoyed with herself—and him—Taylor almost flipped the phone closed. Damn it, she was acting like some indecisive schoolgirl, she upbraided herself. This just had to stop. Now.

  “That you, Detective McIntyre?” she heard the deep voice ask when the silence stretched out. She could swear she heard a smile in his voice.

  “Yes,” she bit off grudgingly. “It’s me.” How had he known? It wasn’t as if she’d indicated that she was ever going to call him, at least, not until such time as the Winter Olympics took place on the frozen terrains of hell.

  As if reading her mind, he said, “Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. Miss me?”

  “Like a toothache.” Taylor could almost see the smirk on his lips. “I need Carole Stevens’s phone number and address.”

  He was the soul of cooperation. “Sure thing. Got a pencil and paper?”

  “Of course I do,” she answered, quickly opening her glove compartment and tossing things onto the passenger seat in a frenzied attempt to locate the items.

  “I can wait,” he offered, as if he could see her rummaging.

  The man made her exceedingly uneasy. “The address,” she repeated, issuing the words like a direct order.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Carole Stevens lived in the older part of town, Taylor thought as she wrote down the street address. Had those been Eileen’s roots as well? she wondered, quickly writing down the phone number Laredo recited.

  “Thanks.”

  “Anytime, Detective McIntyre,” he replied cheerfully.

  Last time, Taylor countered mentally. She quickly terminated the connection before he could say anything else.

  Why the hell was her heart racing? Taylor silently demanded as she turned the key in the ignition. There was absolutely no reason for it to be beating as if she’d just completed a hundred-meter dash.

  She really needed to go on that vacation. The minute that Aaron came back, she would take off for a couple of weeks. Let him go solo for a while. It would serve him right, leaving her in a lurch like this.

  What was the matter with her? Taylor thought the next moment, guiding the car to the main thoroughfare. She was happy for Aaron. She knew how much he and his wife, Rachel, had wanted this baby, how long they had tried to get pregnant. They deserved to enjoy their little girl.

  Taylor sighed, her hands tightening on the steering wheel. Just when had she turned into the Wicked Witch of the West?

  Since her path had crossed Laredo’s. There was no point in denying it. She didn’t know what it was about the tall, muscular private investigator with the intrusive manner, but he made her feel as if she was walking on a foundation made of gelatin.

  What she needed, until she could go off on that mythical vacation, was to hang out a few mornings at Andrew’s house. The former chief of police threw his doors open every morning, making gastronomically thrilling breakfasts for whichever member of his family happened to wander into his house. The man loved to cook and he loved his family. And everybody knew that. The atmosphere within Andrew Cavanaugh’s house was energizingly positive and right now, she could use a little positive reinforcement.

  Since her mother was married to Brian, Andrew’s younger brother, that connected her to the family patriarch. Not that she actually needed an excuse to show up. Andrew considered most of the people on the police force his extended family.

  How the hell did that man manage to keep enough food around to feed everyone? she couldn’t help wondering. It was like one of Aesop’s fables come to life, the one about the bottomless pitcher of milk. No matter how many glasses were poured, the pitcher always remained full. In this case, it wasn’t a pitcher, it was a bottomless refrigerator.

  Someday she would have to ask Andrew about that.

  There were two cars in Carole Stevens’s driveway when Taylor pulled up twenty minutes later. Did the woman have company? she wondered as she parked her car at the curb.

  Maybe it was a friend, offering condolences to the poor woman. Taylor was grateful that she wouldn’t have to break the news to Eileen Stevens’s mother about her daughter’s murder. There was nothing worse than having to tell a parent that their child wasn’t coming home again.

  There should be a chaplain on the force who took care of that sort of thing. It was hard enough getting through each day alive, always running the risk of being shot—or worse.

  Making her way up the front walk, Taylor took out her detective shield and ID. She held it up so that it would be the first thing that the woman would see.

  There was a Christmas wreath on the door, in direct contrast to the sorrow that now resided within. Taylor rang the bell. It opened almost immediately.

  “Mrs. Stevens?”

  The question was merely for form’s sake. The tall, thin woman who opened the front door was an older version of Eileen Stevens. And, eerily like Eileen, the light had been drained out of her eyes.

  “Yes.”

  Taylor raised her shield slightly, calling attention to it. “I’m Detective McIntyre—”

  “Yes, I know.” It was then that the woman opened the door further, allowing Taylor to see that Carole Stevens wasn’t alone. She had a six-foot-three guardian angel next to her. “Laredo told me you’d be coming.”

  Taylor’s eyes shifted to Laredo, who smiled at her. She allowed her mouth to curve, but there was no humor in the expression.

  “How thoughtful of him.”

  Laredo acted as if they’d just exchanged a hearty greeting. “Nice to see you again, Detective.”

  “I can’t say the feeling is mutual,” Taylor murmured under her breath. Eileen’s mother didn’t seem to hear her, but she was certain that Laredo did. His smile widened.

  “Laredo is just here to support me,” the woman told her, her voice echoing the hollowness that she obviously was feeling inside. Carole glanced at the man beside her and did her best to smile her gratitude. “Chet thought it might be a good idea.”

  Taylor looked from Laredo to the woman. Where’d she heard that name before? “Chet?”

  “My grandfather,” Laredo reminded her.
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  The man had a gift, she thought. Without uttering a single, derogatory word, he made her feel as if she were the intruder.

  Taylor got down to business. “This isn’t going to take long, Mrs. Stevens,” she promised the woman, doing her best to cut Laredo out of the mix by turning her back toward him.

  “I’ve got nothing but time,” Carole told her sadly just before she turned on her heel to lead the way into the living room.

  Mrs. Stevens sat down on the sofa, clasping her hands before her as if doing so would give her strength to get through this horrible ordeal. Laredo sat down beside her. Leaving Taylor to take a seat on the chair opposite the sofa. Again she felt isolated, like an outsider.

  “I really don’t know how I can help you,” Carole confessed. “I don’t know much about her life.” It was obvious that the admission was painful for the woman. “Eileen and I just recently got back together again. She’d been angry at me for years, holding me responsible for nearly ruining her life.” The sigh that escaped her lips was ragged. “Those were her words, not mine.” Carole raised eyes that were bright with tears. “Do you have any children, Detective?”

  The fact that Laredo eyed her with interest, waiting for her answer, didn’t escape Taylor. “I’m not married.”

  A sad smile curved the thin lips as a faraway look came into Carole’s eyes. “Neither was I.”

  Taylor caught the woman’s point. She shook her head. “No, no children.”

  Carole nodded, as if she hadn’t expected any other answer. “Then you have no idea how that can hurt, having your child hate you.”

  “Eileen didn’t hate you, Carole,” Laredo interrupted, his voice soft, kind, as he took the woman’s hand and squeezed it, as if to give her support. “You made her take responsibility for her actions. You actually caused her to turn her life around and make something of herself. If anything, she should have been grateful to you.”