Cavanaugh Rules (5 page)

“Nothing,” she told him honestly. “I’m just trying to get a handle on the guy I’m working with.”

“You could get that out of my file.”

She didn’t bother telling him that she didn’t have enough clout to have his file pulled—yet. The chief, of course, had access to it and probably so did her father, but she didn’t try to pull strings like that. If she did, then she would deserve all the unflattering terms that were tossed her way by people who didn’t know any better, who didn’t know
her
better. Shortcuts were for emergencies, not to satisfy your curiosity or for some self-serving purpose.

But for now, she said none of this. If, for some reason, they remained partners after this case was over, he’d find out what she was like on his own.

The thought didn’t bother her nearly as much as it would have initially.

“Won’t tell me as much as you would. I’m not interested in You the Professional. I want to know what kind of
man
I’m trusting my back to. I already figured you were a decent enough detective or the chief wouldn’t have transferred you down to Homicide.”

“Why? Is that where the elite go?” he asked. The amusement in his voice hid the slight chip that had emerged on his shoulder.

“That’s where the best are needed,” she informed him. “I’m told that the chief tends to view this not as a job, but as a mission to protect his city. He wants to keep the people who live here safe. That’s done by keeping killers off the streets and putting them behind bars. And
that’s
done by putting the best detectives on the job.”

He laughed shortly as she made a sharp right. “Now you’re beginning to sound like a city council poster trying to get people to move here.”

That was the
last
thing she would have wanted, to have more people move to Aurora.

“God forbid. Aurora’s got enough people here already. Any more and it’s going to get way too crowded for the people who initially moved here to get away from the big cities.”

Her father would tell her stories about the city when the main thoroughfare had only two lanes, one in each direction, and there were only three traffic lights between the two freeways that buffered Aurora. That was when the developments could be counted on one hand and there were almost as many cows and horses as people living here.

Those days were far in the past, but somehow, Aurora had managed to maintain its small town
feel
even if it was far more “city” than “town” these days.

Silence descended over the vehicle and continued to travel with them for a couple of miles until Kendra decided to tender an invitation to Abilene or, actually, to his mother.

Even as the idea formed in her brain, she had a hard time believing that she would say this. But people in pain had a way of getting to her and from what she’d overheard earlier—and what he’d just told her now—Abilene’s mother was in pain. Decent people shouldn’t have to be in pain if there was any way around it.

“Look, I’m still just getting used to this whole deal about actually being a Cavanaugh and not who I thought I was—”

“A last name doesn’t change who you are,” he pointed out. “Although,” he added with a touch of whimsy, “saying that you’re a Cavanaugh might make things a hell of a lot easier for you.”

“Or harder,” she countered. “A lot of people think that just because I’m related to a Cavanaugh, I’m getting a free ride, that I don’t have to work as hard as the next guy—I work twice as hard as the next guy.”

“Unless the next guy happens to be me,” Abilene said, his mouth curving.

Damn but he had a sexy-looking mouth, even when what came out of it annoyed her. “I work twice as hard as the next guy,” she repeated with feeling. “No matter
who
the next guy is.”

“The lady doth protest too much.” The way he said it, it was more of a question than a statement.

It still wasn’t received well. “The ‘lady’ is busy working her tail off to prove she can do the job each and every time,” she said with feeling.

He seemed willing to take her at her word. With a casual shrug, he said, “Okay, we got that out of the way. Now, where were you going with all this before we got sidetracked?” he asked with a grin.

Right, the invitation. For a second, she felt awkward about extending it. After all, he might get the wrong idea—that she was interested in him. Which she wasn’t. This wasn’t for Abilene, she reminded herself. This was for his mother.

“That the former chief of police, Andrew Cavanaugh, likes to have people over for breakfast—or any meal. He sets a really good table and, personally, I have no idea how the man does it, but there always seems to be food ready. A battalion could come by and I think that he would have enough to feed them until their sides ached.” She’d been present a couple of times when the man had juggled fifty guests and never broke a sweat. She found that incredible. “What I’m getting at is maybe you and your mother might want to drop by some morning, like on a Saturday,” she suggested. “More specifically,” she continued, suddenly remembering that her father had said something about there being a party of some sort at the former chief’s house this weekend, “
this
Saturday.”

“As your guest?” he asked.

She was about to say no, afraid he’d read into that, but then she relented. After all, it might make things easier all around if that was the initial invitation.

“Yeah. Sure. Why not? As my guests,” she agreed. “It might just do your mother some good,” she added so that there wouldn’t be any misunderstanding about why she was suggesting this in the first place. If he thought she was interested in him, their budding working relationship would get shot to hell. “There’s a lot of warmth and love coming from that group.” She could testify to that firsthand. “Gives a person a feeling of well-being.”

Abilene liked to keep his private life just that, private. But he needed help here. So he rolled her offer over in his mind. He loved his mother dearly and while he wouldn’t have traded her in for anything in the world, what he
would
have changed about her was her emotional neediness.

She’d always been there for him and had done the best she could to raise him so that he wanted for little. If he had one wish in the world, it would be to see her finally happy—and secure.

Maybe she’d learn how by associating with people like the Cavanaughs.

“Sounds good to me,” he finally told his partner. “Count us in.”

She nodded. Now all she had to do was ask her father if she’d overstepped her bounds. She made a mental note to talk to him tonight.

The list of people she wanted to touch base with once she was off duty was growing.

Chapter 5

“N
o, I’ve never had any trouble with Ryan Burnett.” The man they were talking to looked surprised to even be asked such a question. “If I had, I would have fired the guy, not sent someone to look for him when he didn’t turn up at work or call in. Why?” he asked suspiciously, looking from one detective to the other. “What’s going on?”

Lou Maxwell was the senior accountant and founder of the company that boasted a number of celebrity clients as well as doing the accounting for a large number of small corporations in the area, all of which he’d parlayed into a thriving business. The man had a booming voice, which was in complete contrast to his rather small, thin frame. Expensive clothes hung on his body like suits on a hanger, waiting to be pressed into service by an actual live person.

If Maxwell was aware of the shadow he cast—or didn’t cast—he gave no indication of it.

When neither of the two detectives who had come into his spartan office to question him about his missing accountant answered his question, he went on to ask another.

“Kennedy said he saw a dead body on the floor,” he said, referring to the junior accountant he’d sent in search of his missing employee, “but that it wasn’t Burnett’s. Whose was it and where the hell is Burnett?” Maxwell demanded.

Kendra shook her head. “We really can’t discuss an ongoing investigation, Mr. Maxwell.”

“You people wouldn’t
have
an ‘ongoing investigation’ if I hadn’t sent Kennedy to find out what was going on. Now I’m down two men instead of just one because Kennedy is still throwing up in the men’s room and you won’t tell me anything.” He glared at the detectives when they still wouldn’t tell him anything. “Look, someone on one of the news channels or one of the millions of blogs on the internet is going to find a way to ferret out the information and splash it all over the airwaves, so you might as well tell me now. I have a right to know.”

Maxwell had a point. She could see by the look that Abilene gave her that the other detective thought so, too. She was surprised that Abilene was leaving it up to her rather than just stepping in and taking over. Maybe he did respect protocol—in his own way. He was turning out not to be such a bad guy after all. Then she cautioned herself to continue reserving judgment. After all, she didn’t exactly have a sterling track record when it came to being right about men.

Determined to control the amount of information that came out, she kept it short and precise.

“We found a woman in Mr. Burnett’s apartment. We didn’t find him. Would you know where he would be inclined to go if he couldn’t stay at his apartment?”

Maxwell shook his head. “Not a clue,” he confessed. “Nice guy, but he kind of kept to himself. That’s why I liked him,” Maxwell underscored. “Worked hard from the minute he came in until the minute he left. No goofing off, no internet surfing on my time.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “About a couple of weeks ago, I heard him mention he was going to get engaged.”

“Who did he mention it to?” Abilene asked before Kendra could. It was a natural assumption that the woman was the same one found on Burnett’s floor, but there was always an outside chance that it wasn’t.

“Kennedy. That’s why I sent him,” Maxwell added. “Thought maybe they were friends.” The small, deep-set brown eyes narrowed further, appearing to grow even smaller. “You telling me that you think Burnett killed the girl?”

“I’m not telling you anything,” Kendra reminded the man tactfully. “Right now, we’re just asking as many questions as we can think of, trying to see what we can find out. See what flies,” she added, borrowing some of the accountant’s short, clipped terms.

Maxwell snorted. “Well, if he did kill her, then I’m a rotten judge of character.” It was evident by his demeanor that he didn’t believe he was.

Kendra, however, wasn’t as sure as he was. “Let’s hope you’re not, Mr. Maxwell. Do you mind if we talk to your people? See if perhaps they might have anything to add?” They could do it with or without his permission, but with was always easier.

“Do I mind?” Maxwell echoed. “Yeah, I mind. If they’re talking, they’re not working. But go ahead,” he concluded, waving them on to the outer office where the accountants who worked for him were all seated. “Get this over with. The sooner you do, the sooner you’re gone and they get back to doing what I’m paying them for.”

“Don’t think anyone’s going to be nominating him for Boss of the Year any time soon,” Abilene commented under his breath as he and Kendra closed the door to Maxwell’s office.

“Could be worse,” Kendra deadpanned. When Abilene raised an eyebrow, she said, “He could have told us to come back and talk to the other accountants after hours.”

Abilene took a chance that she was being serious and said, “Maybe he knew he’d be overridden and didn’t want the hassle. Guys like that only pick fights they figure they’ll win.”

Guys like that
in this case meant guys in control. Was Abilene referring to himself as well? She took it as another possible small piece of insight into the man assigned to work with her.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Abilene heard something in her tone and deduced the rest. Partnering with her would be a constant, ongoing battle of wits. He found himself kind of liking that. It would keep him on his toes.

“Not all guys,” he interjected.

Okay, he’s exempting himself,
she thought, amused. She looked at Abilene for a long moment—and just for a second, caught herself thinking things that had no part in the investigation.

Doing an abrupt mental about-face, she murmured, “Good to know.”

They both turned their attention to the accountants, taking them aside one by one into one of the small private offices meant for client-accountant interviews, and asked their questions.

The accountants were all of the same opinion. Talking to them just reinforced the initial impression of a hardworking, affable young man who was willing to pitch in when necessary but for the most part, kept to himself. No one had a bad word to say about him.

What Kennedy, the accountant who’d gone to Ryan’s apartment, had seen had already made the rounds at the firm and to a person, they were convinced that Burnett couldn’t have killed the girl. What they did believe was that the missing young man was perhaps in trouble or even imminent danger.

“Maybe somebody broke into his apartment and kidnapped him,” said Gina, the accounting firm’s one administrative assistant, a very young-looking blonde who seemed to favor braids as a hairstyle, her blue eyes wide and earnest.

Kendra decided to make the young woman work to put over her theory. “Then how do you explain the dead woman on his floor?”

Gina didn’t even hesitate or need time to think. She’d obviously figured out the kinks in her theory while waiting her turn to be questioned.

“She walked in on it and the kidnapper was forced to kill her because he couldn’t take them both prisoners.” Having advanced her theory, Gina seemed exceedingly pleased with herself. The next moment, she was looking to Abilene, rather than to the woman questioning her. She definitely looked interested in
his
reaction.

He didn’t disappoint her. Instead, he nodded. “We’ll take it under advisement,” he told her in a quiet, thoughtful voice.

In response, the young woman lit up like a Christmas tree.

Her reaction was not lost on Kendra.
And another one bites the dust.

Since this was the last interview, Abilene followed Kendra’s lead and started to rise. He felt the administrative assistant place her hand on top of his, meaning to momentarily detain him.

“You’ll let me know if that was what happened?” she asked hopefully. “That poor Ryan was kidnapped?”

“You’ll be one of the first to know,” Abilene assured her with solemnity.

“Laying the groundwork for a future conquest?” Kendra asked in a quiet, unfathomable voice as they left the outer office.

“Letting her think she said something important and useful,” Abilene corrected. “And who knows? That woman’s theory makes about as much sense as anything else right now.”

Kendra relented. She supposed she had to agree at this point.

“One thing does seem to be clear right about now,” he continued.

She would have been lying if she had said that she hadn’t braced herself before gamely asking, “And what’s that?”

“The guy who worked shoulder to shoulder with those other accountants in that office wasn’t the kind of guy to kill his girlfriend in cold blood.”

No, not according to the way they had perceived him. But there was also another explanation for what had happened in the small apartment. “How about in the heat of an argument?”

They stepped into the elevator. Abilene shook his head. “Didn’t sound like a very passionate guy to me, either.”

“How about you?” she asked without any preamble. She pressed for the first floor.

Abilene stared at her. This was a new twist. “Are you asking me if I’m passionate?”

Although the thought amused him, he just didn’t see Kendra putting that sort of question to him. It didn’t jibe with what he knew of her personality.

Was he wrong? And if so, about what, exactly? Less than twenty-four hours in the woman’s company and she was becoming one huge, intriguing enigma. A puzzle he found himself wanting to solve.

“No,” she contradicted, a flash of embarrassment over the misunderstanding sending color up her neck to her cheeks—as did the unbidden thought of his being passionate. “What I’m asking you is if your fellow coworkers know the first thing about what makes Matt Abilene tick,” she asked. “Or do they know only what you want them to know?” Which was the more logical conclusion.

After a moment, Abilene nodded his head. They reached the first floor and he waited for her to step out first, then darted out just before the doors closed on him.

She didn’t tell Abilene he looked rather adorable just then, even though the thought flashed through her mind.

“I see where you’re going with this,” he told Kendra.

She laughed, waving away his words. “I wasn’t trying to make it a mystery—unlike who killed Summer and where our missing accountant is at the moment.”

“Right now, I’d say the key is in their relationship,” he speculated.

She seemed a little uncertain, even as she said, “Right now, I tend to agree.”

Right now.
Abilene smiled knowingly. “Don’t commit fully, do you?”

She couldn’t make up her mind whether she liked his smile—or found it distractingly annoying, not to mention unsettling.

“Not easily,” she admitted when he was obviously waiting for her to say something.

He nodded. “Me, neither.”

Tell me something I
don’t
know.
But out loud, she said, “I already figured that part out,” all while sporting a pleasant, completely unreadable smile.

Abilene followed her out to the street. “Where to now?”

It was getting late. Shadows had begun to form, tagging one another on the ground. “I think you put in enough time on a first day,” she told him.

He hadn’t expected that. She reminded him of someone who pushed, who worked into the small hours and expected no less from those who worked with her. “I’m not a novice,” he reminded her.

“No,” she agreed, “but you do have a mother who’s waiting to see you. And we’re not about to solve this thing in a few extra hours tonight. Go, see your mother, Abilene,” she urged. “Make her feel better.” She thought of how much, after all these years, she still missed her own. “You only get one mother.”

He snapped his fingers. “And here I was, getting ready to swing by the Mother Store to see if I could trade mine in for another model.”

Sarcasm was a weapon—and a defense mechanism. Which was he using? “You always crack wise like that?” she asked.

“Not always,” he admitted, his voice even, giving nothing away. And then he looked at her significantly. “Only when I’m inspired.”

They’d come up to the car and she pressed the lock release. A small
click
had all four locks opening and standing at attention.

“C’mon.” She opened the driver’s-side door. “I’ll drop you off at the precinct.”

“Okay. I owe you a drink.”

That stopped her for a moment. She glanced at him over the hood of the car. “How do you figure that?”

He dropped down into his seat, then waited for her to do the same before continuing. “Isn’t the new guy supposed to buy drinks at the end of his first day?”

Buckling up, she shut the door. Kendra shook her head just before turning on the ignition. “I was the last ‘new guy’ in our squad and they bought
me
drinks.”

His laugh seemed to fill the interior of the vehicle and rippled along her skin.

“That works, too,” he answered with an agreeable nod.

Kendra had a feeling that he would hold her to that drink.

* * *

They parted in the parking lot, with Abilene going his way and Kendra, supposedly, going hers. She watched his car pulling out of the lot in the distance. Only then did she get out of her vehicle and go back upstairs.

Tom was waiting for her. By request.

Taking the elevator to the Missing Persons squad room, she got out, entered the room and crossed to Tom’s desk. Wearily, she dropped down into the chair positioned next to it.

“What do you know about him?” she asked. “My new partner,” she added for clarification. And then, because it occurred to Kendra that she wasn’t being at all clear, she backtracked and said what she should have mentioned in the first place: her new partner’s name. “What do you know about Matt Abilene?”

The wide, muscular shoulders rose and fell in a minor, offhanded movement. “Off the top of my head—nothing,” Tom admitted. “But I can ask around if you’d like.” He looked carefully at Kendra, as if trying to discern if everything was all right. “I heard that the chief gave you a new one,” he confirmed. “Is he giving you a hard time?”

She didn’t want to answer that one way or another. To say yes would get her brother’s protective side up and Abilene wasn’t actually being condescending or disrespectful toward her, which meant that she couldn’t say that he was giving her a hard time. It was more that he was irritating her—mostly in ways she couldn’t talk about or explain, even to herself. Besides, knowing the way Tom thought, he just might interpret her words in a completely different and unwelcome way.