Alias: Daddy

by Adrianne Lee

  “Did you and Roman work out your differences?” Glynna asked softly.

  “No.” The small word clogged Kerrie’s throat.

  “But you were alone a long time and when you rejoined us, I could tell something important had passed between the two of you.”

  Important? Kerrie wanted to laugh. “Nothing that resolved anything.” Indeed it had only complicated everything.

  “You should try to work out something with Roman. He’s a good man.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  “You think so, too.”

  “So, what if I do?” She was too vulnerable, too touchy on this subject to discuss it. She lurched across the threshold and caught the doorknob. “I need a shower and some sleep.”

  Glynna took a deep breath. Her soft green eyes were heated with an intensity Kerrie hadn’t seen since before her father died. “You know, Kerrie Carleen, yours isn’t the only life involved here.”

  “I know.” Kerrie sighed and shifted from one foot to the other. She had heard this argument too many times in the past thirty-six hours. “My daughters—”

  “Of course, Maureen and Gabby are to be considered.” Her mother cut her off. “But, for once, I was talking about myself.”

  Surprise darted through Kerrie. “Oh?”

  Glynna nodded. “I guess you just thought I’d be here forever to help you raise the girls. Guess I thought that, too. But the past few days have made me realize I also have a life. One I’ve put on hold for over three years now. Not that I haven’t done it willingly, gladly. Nevertheless.”

  Kerrie felt stunned, numbed. Was her mother saying she was leaving them? Until this very moment, until it was pointed out to her, she hadn’t realized how much she took for granted her mother’s position in their little family unit. How Glynna’s support allowed her to have her career and motherhood at the same time.

  She blushed with shame and contrition. “Is that why you keep turning down Dr. Jon’s marriage proposals?”

  Glynna frowned. “I suppose it has kept me from seriously considering them.”

  Guilt wound through Kerrie. “Do you want to marry Jon?”

  Glynna lifted her right leg and scratched her heel again. “He asked me again tonight…before we discovered the break-in.”

  “And…?”

  “And…this time I’m seriously considering saying yes.”

  Kerrie nodded. How odd life was. Her mother was on the brink of a new happiness, while she was on the edge of an old sorrow. She had some hard decisions to make. Given the choice she’d pick happiness every time—but happiness wasn’t being offered to her. Still, she could choose it for Glynna.

  She stepped back into the hall, draped an arm around her mother and kissed her cheek. “Whatever you decide, you have my blessing, Mom.” “Thank you, darling.” Glynna smiled and hugged her. “You know, my heel has been itching all night. That means I’m going on an unexpected trip soon.”

  Kerrie grinned. “Maybe a honeymoon?”

  Chapter Ten

  Kerrie’s nerves were as taut as the braid holding her unruly hair off her face. Despite the loss of sleep, despite the mess her life was in, a part of her felt more alive than she had in years. She strode into work with purpose, determined they would beat Loverboy at his own game…now that they knew what the game was.

  Cage was at his desk, conferring with Roman, who stood with his back to the window. One glance at the father of her children and her heart hitched. She didn’t want to notice the autumn sunlight on his blue-black hair, the warmth it gave his tanned, olive skin, the depth of onyx it added to his- raven brows and lashes, the catlike gleam it lent his golden eyes.

  Instead she concentrated on the tiny lines at the corners of those compelling eyes. They were prominent this morning as were the whiskers on his square jaw. Had he gone home at all? Slept at all? The image of him in bed flashed into her head, set her pulse thrumming.

  Forcing the unwanted vision aside, she greeted the men, crossed to her uncluttered desk and deposited her first latte of the day and her shoulder bag. “Hey, Donnello, I saw your car being towed away from my house this morning. Engine trouble?”

  “Nope.” His husky response sent shivers across her skin, pulling her gaze to his. His expression was somber. “Someone slashed my tires.”

  Kerrie frowned. “Last night?”

  Tully Cage nodded. “Yep, a regular crime wave going on in that peaceful little neighborhood of yours.”

  For the first time she noticed her partner looked every bit as tired as Roman, but there was a glint in his eyes, the kind of spark she’d seen before, whenever an investigation was progressing to his liking. What was going on? “What have you two been doing since you left my house?”

  “Among other things, checking on Dante Casale,” Cage answered.

  As though she’d just emerged from a thick fog and could suddenly see colors sharper, could detect innuendo and mood, she realized both men vibrated with an underlying edginess. Her breath snagged. They had discovered something. “What did you find out?”

  Roman leaned against the window, his long legs crossed at the ankles, his jeans distractingly tight, hugging him in places that stirred provocative images in her head. She concentrated on not noticing. “Tell me.”

  Roman arched a dark brow. “Dante’s missing.”

  “Missing?” She shrugged out of her distressed-leather bomber jacket “As in…disappeared?”

  “Yes.” He rolled his neck and a lock of hair swung onto his forehead, making him impossibly more handsome.

  Cage rocked back in his chair. “The Casale family claims he ran off with his secretary.”

  “The thing is—” Roman jammed his hand into his hair, shoving the wayward lock back. “No one has seen or heard from him for at least four months. He’s just vanished.”

  “A regular milk carton candidate.” Cage grinned.

  He’d been missing since Wendy Waring was killed.’ Kerrie eyed them speculatively. “What do you think happened to him?”

  “Nothing. I think he went into hiding.” Roman braced his arms on the windowsill. “I think he’s in Seattle running this operation.”

  Kerrie suppressed a shudder and dropped her jacket over the back of her chair.

  Cage reached for his coffee mug.

  Kerrie sat down. “Why would Dante care enough to launch such an elaborate ruse…just to get us?”

  Roman’s gaze swept her, appraisingly, as though he were remembering last night, as though he wanted her as he’d wanted her last night. Heat filled her face, flickered like tiny electric surges in the most private areas of her body and heart, everywhere except her mind. He didn’t want her. He only wanted a sex partner.

  He said, “I suspect Dante regretted testifying against his cousin Tito—especially since Tito’s arrest led straight to Potter’s Field.”

  “An eye for an eye. Blood for blood.” Cage put his cup down with a thump. “In families like Casale’s it’s considered an obligation to extract vengeance on the person or people foolish enough to bring shame or death to kin. Your investigation not only led to death, but it came between Casale and Fabrizio, blood cousins. A double whammy.”

  She removed the lid from her latte. The high spirits she’d arrived with minutes before deflated.

  “Detective Cage is right” Roman leaned his palms onto her desk and bent toward her. She caught a light whiff of the aftershave that still lingered in her memory from the night before. No, she would not be sidetracked with thoughts of making love to this man.

  She pulled the latte close and inhaled. Casale was too old to be Loverboy, and he’d never bloody his own hands, so who was executing the murders? She took a sip of espresso. Would Casale enlist the help of strangers? Hired guns? Could a hired gun pull off the kind of passionate kills that Loverboy had? She was more inclined to go with Cage’s notion that Casale would keep it in the family. “Did Fabrizio have any sons?”

  “Naw.” Cage shrugged dismissively.
“Just daughters.”

  “Oh, I see,” Kerrie snapped, instantly angered. She had to deal with gender prejudice in one way or another nearly every working day of her life. She wouldn’t take it from her partner. She started up out of her chair. “You think women are incapable of this crime. This is the nineties, Cage. Purdy is full of women who committed murder for revenge.”

  “Whew, somebody’s running on a short fuse today.” Cage looked amused. “If you recall, Muldoon, we put some of those women into the state facility ourselves.”

  Chagrined Kerrie blinked and sat back down. “I’m tired, riding on my last nerve. I probably overreacted”

  Cage chuckled derisively. “Probably?”

  “She’s right.” Roman interrupted. He hitched his hip onto the edge of her desk, his back to her. “We shouldn’t underestimate a daughter’s love for her father.”

  Kerrie stiffened. She couldn’t see his face, but his message came across loud and clear. He meant to gain his daughters’ love, with or without her cooperation.

  She clamped her mouth shut, reining in her anger, trying to swallow the knot in her throat. She didn’t need these constant reminders that she’d kept Roman’s children from him, kept him from forming any kind of bond with them. She sipped the espresso.

  Cage shoved his coffee mug to one side. “So, we’ll check on the daughters, and any sons-in-law while we’re at it.”

  “Only one of Tito’s daughters is married,” Roman said. “To a minister. The oldest daughter is a librarian, the youngest, a widow, is a kindergarten teacher.”

  A minister’s wife, a librarian and a kindergarten teacher. All gentle souls by nature. Kerrie shook her head. In light of this information, her argument about nineties women lost its punch. Nineties women they might all be, but revenge-seeking, switchblade-wielding mamas? The stretch was too much for her to accept. She sipped her latte,” thoughtfully. “What about Casale? Any children?”

  “None we’re aware of.” Roman shifted his body until he was facing her. “But he liked the ladies…so it’s possible he’s fathered children who’ve never lived with him.”

  There was a subtle hint of fierce emotion in his eyes. She braced herself, knowing what she was about to ask would hit to the heart of his anger. But the question couldn’t be avoided. “Would he have acknowledged them…kept in close contact?”

  “If the mother allowed it.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, straining to keep her flush of anger from reaching her face.

  Cage seemed to pick up on the tension between them. He frowned. “I thought your agency was checking on illegitimate children.”

  “They are.” Roman let out a heavy breath.

  “So tell Muldoon about the nephew,” Cage urged him.

  “What nephew?” Kerrie grabbed at the switch of subject as if it were a lifeline.

  Roman stroked his whiskered chin. “I recalled Casale bragging about a nephew, his sister’s son, who by all accounts could very well be Loverboy. He’s the right age. And apparently has enough looks and charm to gain a woman’s interest and trust.”

  “And you’ve tracked the nephew here?” She felt a sudden swell of hope.

  “Not exactly,” Cage interjected.

  She glanced at him, then back at Roman. “What then?”

  “Reportedly he’s on vacation at a beach house Dante owns on the Atlantic seashore.”

  “Reportedly?” The swell of hope flattened. “Is he, or isn’t he?”

  “I’ve got somebody watching the place now. They’ll contact me as soon as they verify whether or not he’s there. Maybe as early as this afternoon.”

  “Good.” She took another swallow of espresso, wondering if the caffeine would ever kick in, would revive her rapidly waning energy. “Anything new on my break-in?”

  Cage shuffled through the papers spread out on his desk, then handed her a sheet. “That’s the lab report. This one has the techs puzzled.”

  “Why?” Kerrie asked.

  “You’ll note the footprints were made by size eleven Nikes, but the usual height and weight equation doesn’t play in this instance.”

  “Why not?” She glanced up from the report.

  Roman said, “The imprints indicate the perp was abnormally lightweight to wear such a big shoe.”

  Kerrie sighed. “So what are you saying—the perp was tall and reed-thin, small-boned with oversize feet, a woman wearing men’s shoes, what?”

  Cage shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  She had an awful thought. “A teenager, after all?”

  “Not in this case, Irish. Those footprints belong to Loverboy.”

  She frowned at Roman. “How can you be certain?”

  “Because—” Cage leaned toward her, his arms outstretched in front of him, a smug smile in his teal eyes. “Just before you walked in, the lab called with an update. The same knife was used on Bud as on the other victims, likely an eight inch switchblade of some kind.”

  “How does that connect Bud’s death to my break-in?”

  Cage narrowed his eyes, inadvertently accentuating his scar. “The lab techs found some oddities in Bud’s wound, deposits they suggest must have been on the knife.”

  “What?” Her stomach churned anxiously.

  Roman bent toward her. “Some teeny specks of mud and a few strange fibers—rubber fibers, the kind of rubber used in tires.”

  Her eyes rounded. “As in your slashed tires?”

  “Bingo!” Cage’s grin spread across his face.

  Kerrie’s mouth dried. Proof. Solid and undeniable. They were another step, maybe more, closer to catching Loverboy. He’d gotten careless. Anxious. She flattened the empty latte container between her hands as she hoped she’d soon be smashing Loverboy’s plans.

  She tossed the cup into the waste basket. But why had he gotten careless? Was he getting bolder? More desperate? Growing tired of his game? A shiver slithered along her spine.

  Cage stood and came to sit on the edge of her desk opposite Roman. “I haven’t run this past Agent Donnello, yet, but I think he’ll agree with me that you and your family should move out of your place and into a safe house.”

  The suggestion stunned Kerrie. She’d never considered it Not even last night. She wasn’t about to let someone drive her out of her own home. No way. Thank goodness that wouldn’t be necessary.

  “Thanks anyway, but a state-of-the-art alarm system is being installed in my home at this very minute.” She avoided Roman’s gaze, but she could feel him looking at her, likely wondering whether she would credit him for the alarm system. “The workers were starting on it when I headed in here. They’re even putting some steel bars on the basement window. The Seattle PD couldn’t supply me with a more secure site.”

  “But we could give you some place that Loverboy doesn’t know about,” Cage argued.

  “And what am I supposed to do, just sit at this safe, secret house and twiddle my thumbs hoping you and Donnello bring Loverboy in before he finds us?”

  “Nobody’s suggesting you take a leave of absence. You’d still be on the case.”

  “You forget we don’t know who Loverboy is. He could follow me from here to wherever I went. No, I’m not moving out of my house.”

  “Besides, she’s got to consider her kids,” Roman added.

  Cage made a face at him. “What?”

  “Kids don’t like their routines disrupted,” Roman explained.

  “Well, excuse me, ‘Daddy.’“ Cage’s retort had the effect of a bomb blast, startling Roman and Kerrie, then rendering them silent. Too silent

  Kerrie’s cheeks burned. Crimson climbed Roman’s neck. Tully Cage’s gaze shifted between them, a thoughtful frown that was a testament to the wheels churning in his clever mind. He already knew Roman and she had a past, he was smart enough to put two and two together and come up with twins.

  “Donnello’s the father of your little girls?” Cage let out a low whistle. “Holy moly.”

  He stiffened, instantl
y contrite, apologetic. “Sorry, partner. I crossed the line. No questions, none of my business. But you’ve got to admit it’s a mind blower.”

  “I’d appreciate it, Tully, if you didn’t spread this around.” Kerrie felt as if she’d just stepped off a stomachjarring carnival ride.

  Roman scowled. “As far as I’m concerned, Irish, he can tell the world. I’m not ashamed that what we once shared produced those two beautiful girls.”

  “Yeah, well, you don’t have to work here,” she growled. And you’re not a female in a predominately male office. And you don’t understand or care how I feel about any of this.

  “Aren’t you afraid you’ll collapse under the weight of all that pride, Irish?”

  Before she could respond, Cage interceded, “Kiddies, kiddies, could we get back to trying to identify Loverboy?”

  Roman nodded. It took Kerrie several deep breaths until her anger was banked, then she nodded, too.

  “All right then.” Cage returned to his chair, found a pen and opened a legal pad to a clean page. “Let’s share thoughts about the suspects.”

  Roman grabbed a chair and positioned himself between their desks. “Which suspects?”

  Kerrie understood exactly what and who her partner was referring to. “The men who’ve participated in this classified ad ruse so far. At least one of them had to have been enlisted by Casale.”

  “Maybe more,” Cage suggested. “Don’t forget the unknown factor—Troy with the whiny voice.”

  “Who?” Roman asked.

  She explained about the caller who’d stood her up the first night Roman had found her in McRory’s and sat at her table without being invited. “Apparently he arrived, saw me with you and took off.”

  “We’ve never seen him,” Cage added. “Don’t have a last name and he’s made all his calls from a pay phone.”

  “The same pay phone each time?” Roman asked.

  Cage shook his head. “All different locations.”

  An anxious knot formed in Roman’s stomach. Undercover investigation, using oneself as bait to catch a murderer, was fraught with inherent dangers. But this was different. How many unsavory worms had running this classified ad stirred? Worms who had nothing to do with their case? Was Irish in jeopardy from other, unsuspected sources?