Dangerous Games (6 page)

“I can’t complain,” he finally answered.

And then his father smiled at him. Cole was hard-pressed to remember if he had ever seen the expression on his father’s face within this house. There had been plenty of instances when a smiling face had looked up at him from the society papers, but he didn’t recall ever seeing it in person.

“Well, we’re proud of you,” his father said heartily.

The words of praise, of approval, left him cold. The last time Cole had wanted either from one of his parents, he’d been eight years old. Trying to get his father’s attention after some accomplishment, he’d been shunted to the side.

Any further chitchat would just be perpetrating a lie. These people had never cared about him and he no longer cared about them. Eric’s plight was the reason he was here, so he got down to the heart of the matter.

“I’m here about Eric.”

The smile vanished as if it had only been a figment of his imagination. His father’s still-handsome face frosted over. “Who we are definitely
not
proud of.”

Cole watched his mother knot her fingers together as she sat ramrod-straight on the Louis XIV chair she’d lavished more attention on than either one of her children.

He wasn’t here to debate that, or to point out that had they not failed as parents, maybe they would have had a son to be proud of.

“You can still bail him out of jail until the trial.”

His father looked at him as if he’d just been asked to disrobe and run naked through the center of the city. “Why should we do that?”

No, he wasn’t devoid of emotion, Cole thought, because he felt anger welling up inside of him. He had an almost uncontrollable urge to shout at this man who had sired him. He didn’t waste his time or his breath to say that he believed Eric was innocent. If they’d had bothered to get to know his brother, they would have known that already.

His voice was steely as he said, “Because he’s your son.”

His father eyed the liquor cabinet. It was an open secret that Lyle Garrison lubricated his brain cells with healthy doses of liquid libation. Eric had inherited his father’s penchant for drinking. That he did it indiscriminately and habitually wound up drunk was probably one of the reasons his father disliked his second born so much.

“He’s brought nothing but shame to the family name. He should be grateful that we’re providing legal counsel for him.”

Cole couldn’t restrain himself any longer. “Maybe if you and Mother—” he spared her a damning glance “—had provided something more when Eric was growing up, you wouldn’t have anything to be ashamed of right now.”

His father turned a very unflattering shade of red as rage snapped into place. “Oh, so now it’s our fault? Oh, that’s right, Denise, did you know that it’s fashionable to blame the parents any time you screw up?”

“Never mind that the parents screwed up first,” Cole pointed out.

Lyle Garrison drew himself up to his full height. Men who towered over him quaked in his presence because he had the power and the money to break them into small pieces. It seemed to gall him that his son didn’t shrink back. “What are you saying?”

Cole remained unaffected and he knew it goaded his father no end. “What should have been said a long time ago. That if there were two people who were definitely
not
meant to be parents, it’s you and Mother.” Disgust filled his eyes as he looked from one to the other. “There’s not a drop of compassion, of kindness, within either of you.”

His father’s voice fairly shook with barely suppressed rage. “Well, this is some reunion, I must say. Did you come here to insult us?”

Eric, think of Eric, Cole counseled himself. “No, I came to ask you get Eric out of jail. Being there is killing him.”

His mother finally broke her silence. “And having this scandal dropped on our doorstep is killing me. Did he ever stop to think of that before he…did what he did?”

His father looked at him contemptuously, although he kept his distance, as if sensing that he would not come out the winner in a confrontation with his son. “If you’re so concerned about him, Cole, why don’t
you
bail him out?”

If the bail hadn’t been set as high as it was, he would have had Eric out the moment he’d arrived in Aurora. But his money was all tied up in his latest project and there wasn’t enough cash to use. “I don’t have enough collateral to put up. But you do.”

Taking out a decanter, his father poured brandy into a goblet. Cole caught the slight look of dismay filter over his mother’s face, but she said nothing. She never opposed his father.

“If that’s the only reason you’re here, Cole,” his father said before he raised the glass to his lips, “I don’t see as how we have anything else to talk about.”

“I guess not.” He was an idiot to have come here. An idiot to have thought that there was an ounce of compassion to be squeezed out of either of them. “Mother, Dad—” he nodded at each “—nice seeing you both again. Don’t bother getting up, I’ll see myself out.” Sarcasm reeked from his words as he strode out of the room and then out of the house.

He slammed the front door in his wake as he left.

Time had mellowed him somewhat. He didn’t lose his temper anymore, certainly not like that, but dealing with his bloodless parents got to him. He’d gone to them against his better judgment. What was worse, he’d failed.

Cole was still not in the best frame of mind when he strode into the hotel. He’d noticed the speedometer inching its way up to seventy as he’d driven back. It echoed the way he felt, as if he was in danger of reaching a maximum boiling point. Getting his temper under control took some doing.

He was halfway across the hotel’s elegantly carpeted floor when a bellhop, hurrying behind him, tapped him on the shoulder. “Mr. Garrison?”

Swinging around, he barked, “Yes?” then amended, “Sorry. Anything I can do for you?”

The bellhop looked at him sheepishly. “The lady asked me to tell you to meet her in the hotel restaurant when you came in.”

Cole looked around the lobby, but saw no one he recognized. “What lady?”

“This one.” The bellhop produced a business card and handed it to him.

Cole found himself looking down at Rayne’s name. Was this a good sign? Or had she come down in person to give him bad news?

He was getting ahead of himself. There was no reason to surmise that there was any bad news to give. Seeing his parents again had brought out all the worst emotions within him.

“And the restaurant would be…?”

“Right that way, sir.” The bellhop pointed toward the left. Upon entering the hotel, Cole had been vaguely aware of an opening leading off to a darkened area. He hadn’t bothered to read the sign on the wall to learn that he was passing the hotel’s finer restaurant. Food hadn’t been on his mind.

“Thanks.” He tipped the bellhop and crossed to the restaurant.

It took him a moment to acclimate his eyes to the lighting, which was subdued and warm and made him think of velvet. Standing in the doorway, he scanned the interior. He saw her just as the hostess walked up to him. Waving the woman back, he strode into the restaurant and toward Rayne’s table.

“Good or bad?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

She’d taken her eyes off the entrance for just a moment. Wouldn’t you know he’d pick that time to walk in? She didn’t like being caught off guard. Neither did she like enigmatic questions.

He seated himself at the table. The last arrangement they’d made, she was to call him. He hadn’t expected her to just show up. The way his morning had gone, he didn’t feel very hopeful.

“Is it good news or bad that brings you here? Because I have to warn you, if it’s bad, you might want to hold off telling me,” Cole barked. The hostess had followed him and now placed a menu in front of him. A perfunctory smile came and left his lips. His attention remained on Rayne. “Never mind, disregard that. I need to know, even if it’s bad.”

Rayne waited until he finally paused. “Is this a private conversation or can anyone leap in at will?”

“Sorry. Speak.”

She frowned. “Now that’s one of the things we’re going to have to get out of the way.”

He had little patience with riddles. “What are you talking about?”

“You ordering me around. If you want my help, we do things my way or no way,” she told him simply.

Fresh from a visit to a megalomaniac, Cole could feel his antennae going up. “I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

“There’s not going to be another sound, at least, not from me, unless you agree to my terms.”

He’d never reacted well to being given ultimatums. “And if I don’t?”

She picked up her purse. “Then I’m afraid I’ve just wasted my time.”

His nerves were on edge. Maybe he was overreacting. Besides, this wasn’t about him, it was about saving Eric. “Hold on, I said if, remember?”

She was slow to relent. A good part of her still didn’t think this was such a good idea, allowing him to throw in his lot with hers. She moved better and faster on her own. There was less chance of having anyone else find out that she was conducting her own investigation if she was the only one involved. “Then you agree? We do things my way?”

He’d learned how to delegate in his business, but it was something he still had to master privately. This would be the place to begin. “As long as it gets results—fast—” he emphasized, “I’ll agree to anything.”

Anything, huh?
She couldn’t help the smile that rose to her lips. “Lucky for you I’m not the type to hold you to something like that. Never leave yourself open that way.”

“I’ll take it under advisement. So it’s a deal?” He put out his hand.

After a beat she placed hers into it. “The ‘deal’ is we both want justice, leave it at that.”

“Whatever you say.”

She doubted that he meant that, but she intended to hold him to it when the time came. She had a feeling that it would be fairly soon.

Rayne picked up the menu. “Okay,” she agreed gamely as she opened the menu, “then lunch is on you.”

Chapter 6

H
er father had always taught her that the best approach was the direct one. It saved time, let people know exactly where you stood and often caught them off guard. Enough to make it work in your favor. The element of surprise, she’d learned, was not to be underestimated. People had a tendency to blurt things out when they weren’t prepared.

The following Monday, Rayne kept her father’s lesson in mind and went straight to the horse’s mouth—the officer who’d first found the body, a man she’d known from her very first days on the force.

When she cornered the tall, thin officer on the first floor of the police station, Richard Longwell apparently thought it might be for a different reason than the case.

His ready smile of greeting faded as he listened to Rayne ask who had first discovered Kathy Fallon’s body. A look of mild confusion flared in his brown eyes. Rayne wondered if she didn’t pick up just a bit of hostility, as well.

Taking off his hat, Longwell ran a hand through his unruly dark brown hair.

“A girlfriend called it in. She and Kathy worked together at a boutique downtown. When Kathy didn’t show, or answer her phone, the girlfriend came over to see what was going on. Kathy had told her that she was afraid Garrison might try something. There was no answer when she knocked, but the lights were still on. The girlfriend had someone from the housing complex open the door. She saw the body and called 9-1-1.” He shrugged. “I was the closest to the scene. She said she didn’t touch anything. All that blood freaked her out.”

Though the scene mentally filled her with horror, Rayne had learned from the very first to put distance between any personal reaction and what she saw on the job. She wouldn’t have been able to be of any use otherwise. “And?”

Longwell shook his head. “She’d been stabbed. The M.E. said it happened the night before. Pretty little thing. She wasn’t so pretty when Garrison—the suspect,” he corrected with obvious sarcasm, “got through with her. There were signs of struggle. Garrison’s prints were all over the place.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “Look, I put all that down in my report. Told the same to Rollins and Webber who caught the case. Why do you want to know? You haven’t gone I.A.B. on me, have you, Cavanaugh?”

There was only a hint of humor in the man’s voice. She and Longwell had attended the police academy together. They had even gone out a few times but they were in different places at the time. He was content to let his career progress in slow motion while from the first Rayne had been determined to arrive at a higher level. She’d been more driven than most people, but then, most people in the department hadn’t had a Cavanaugh legacy to fulfill. Which was why she was now a detective while Longwell was still a patrolman.

They’d drifted apart in the last year and there were times she felt, despite what he said, that Longwell resented the fact that she outranked him now. But then again, that could have just been the pessimistic way she tended to view things.

That he thought she might have become part of the Internal Affairs Bureau, a self-policing branch of the force that everyone else distrusted and despised, stung. Even so, the irony that she had taken it upon herself to reexamine another policeman’s findings was not lost on her.

“You know better than that.” Her tone was a bit sharper than she’d intended.

Longwell’s easy, charming smile returned as he held his hands up in front of him. “Hey, easy now. Just curious why you seem so interested in the case.”

She could tell him the truth about that without any concern. “I knew Eric Garrison once. Went to school with him.”

“Back during your wild past?” He hooked one thumb on his belt. His eyes passed over her a bit freely. “Date him, too?”

That was the problem with having so many members of her family on the force. It was hard to keep anything a secret. Not that her less than sterling past was something that could remain buried. Too many people had known her back then. And pitied Andrew Cavanaugh that his youngest had turned out to be such a handful and a half.

Her eyes met Longwell’s and held steady. “As a matter of fact, I did. Once or twice.”

A hint of a smirk crossed his small mouth. “Looks like not everyone you went out with turned out to be harmless.”

If he only knew the half of it, Rayne thought. She’d gone out with men who would have turned her father’s hair white, not gray, if he’d known. Her mouth curved slightly as she cocked her head, still looking at Longwell. “Present company excluded?”

The charming smile was back. “Goes without saying.” And then it faded just a shade. “Seriously, why
are
you asking? Something strike you as off?

She hadn’t gone deep enough into it to be able to actually point to anything beyond her gut feeling. She lowered her voice as a couple of patrol officers walked by them. “I just don’t think he’s capable of killing someone.”

The laugh was cool, knowing. “Everyone’s capable of killing, just have to press the right buttons. Were you out the day they taught that?”

“Apparently.”

She knew she wasn’t going to get anything further out of Longwell, at least, not at this time. Friends or not, police officers were a tight, fraternal group, not ready to speak out of turn unless there was bad blood involved. And as far as she knew, no one had done Longwell a bad turn.

“Thanks for your time,” she murmured, walking away.

She could feel Longwell’s eyes following her all the way down the hall.

This wasn’t going to get her anywhere, Rayne thought at the end of the day. There was really no way she could work her cases with Joel Patterson, her partner, and get anywhere verifying the information that was involved in the case against Eric. Spread too thin, she wasn’t going to be any use to anyone.

Something was going to have to give.

Rather than head out the door, she went in the opposite direction. Toward Lieutenant Gil MacLeroy’s glass-enclosed office. He was alone.

Knocking once, she stuck her head into the office. “Do you have a minute?”

He was clearly a man on his way somewhere. Pausing, the lieutenant looked at his watch. “I can give you forty-five seconds.”

“I’ll talk fast.”

“Never doubted it for a moment.” He sat back down. “What’s on your mind?”

“I need to take some time off.”

“You’re putting in for personal time?” His graying, tufted eyebrows rose high upon his broad forehead, accentuating just how really bald the man was. “Is this a first?”

“Yes, Sir, it is.”

She hadn’t put in for any time since she’d gotten on the force, nor taken any vacation days. Beyond an occasional few hours here and there, necessitated usually by some kind of family business, she was almost a permanent fixture in the department. Her dedication wasn’t a matter of her being a workaholic. She had something to prove, to herself and to her family. It took a lot to live down a reputation that was less than glowing and she knew she was going to have to put in a great deal of time and effort to bury it.

Placing the tips of his fingers together, MacLeroy studied her intently for a moment.

Rayne couldn’t help wondering if he suspected the reason behind her request. But if he meant to drag a confession out of her, he was going to be disappointed. She returned the lieutenant’s gaze unflinchingly. She’d been called out on the carpet by the best, so she could well hold her own. Compared to her father, MacLeroy was a pussycat.

He shook his head doubtfully. “We’re pretty busy right now.”

Not any more than usual. She’d checked around the squad room this afternoon. “With all due respect, Sir, we’re always busy.”

He inclined his head, conceding the point with reluctance. It was a well-known fact that he liked a full complement of detectives on hand at all times. “How much time do you need?”

She thought of the upcoming trial. It was set for the following Tuesday. “A week.”

The lieutenant glanced toward the large calendar on his desk. “I guess we can spare you for a week.” His smile was one meant to put a subordinate at ease. “Where are you going?”

She hadn’t moved a muscle since she’d entered his office. “Excuse me?”

“On vacation, where are you going?”

Because her teens had been so fraught with lies and deception, to the point that she herself began to lose the thread of what was real and what wasn’t, these days, whenever possible, she tried very hard not to lie. Besides, saying she was going off to some vacation paradise might prove problematic if she needed to come into the precinct.

“Nowhere,” she told him. “I just have to take care of some things.”

MacLeroy accepted the explanation. “So we can be in touch if we need you?”

She grinned, relieved. “Absolutely.”

“All right, it’s settled. Just let Patterson know,” he reminded her. “See you in a week.”

She murmured goodbye, then went back to her desk to write a quick note to her partner, who’d left before her. As she lay down her pen, she saw Patterson walking back in. Obviously he hadn’t gone for the day the way she’d hoped. “I was just leaving you a note.”

Looking neither surprised nor curious, Patterson, a twenty-seven-year veteran of the force, asked in a weary voice, “About?”

Rather than answer, she handed him the note. He scanned it quickly, then tossed the note out. Patterson looked rumpled. Going beyond just the state of his clothes, it was a deep-seated rumpled that took in every part of him. He made no secret of the fact that he didn’t care for being paired with someone half his age. They’d been paired together for less than six months. He still viewed her as an annoying anomaly.

The man shrugged his broad, beefy shoulders beneath a tan jacket that looked slept in. “Suit yourself.”

“Thanks, I will.”

If pride hadn’t prevented it, she would have asked for a change in partners. But that would have been the childish way and she was determined to tough things out. The last thing she wanted was for word to get back to her father that she couldn’t cut it. She was determined to prove otherwise. She could handle anything the department had to throw at her.

It was what life had thrown at her that had been difficult for her to handle. But she had finally come to terms with that, as well. She wasn’t the only girl who’d lost her mother and her loss, even though it made no sense to her, she had to accept and move on with her life.

Execution took some doing, but she was finally in the home stretch.

Sunset had long since come and gone by the time she got into her car. She sighed as she closed the door and then buckled up. Then sighed louder as she heard her cell phone ring. Her phone was in her back pocket, not easily gotten to once her seat belt was in place.

Muttering under her breath, she unbuckled again and then reached for her phone. It took effort to keep the impatience out of her voice.

“Cavanaugh,” she sighed.

“Back off.”

Annoyance gave way to adrenaline. Habit had her looking around, but the half-empty parking lot was unpopulated. “What? Who is this?”

“Back off,” the voice repeated. The next moment the connection broke.

Biting off a curse, she opened her door to let in more light as she angled her phone’s LCD screen. No number registered. The only thing that appeared was the word “private.”

Most likely, it was a prank. Or a wrong number, but even as she manufactured excuses, Rayne couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that clung to her.

She put the cell phone back in her pocket. Was it someone on the force? Had Longwell talked to someone about what she’d asked him? Someone who didn’t want their toes walked on?

Or were more than toes at stake here? Did someone not want her digging in because the wrong man really was in prison?

Her mind turned to Cole.

What if he’d been the one who’d just placed that call to her? He had her cell number. Maybe asking her to investigate was just a ruse to throw her off, to make her predisposed into thinking that Eric hadn’t murdered Kathy Fallon when he actually had? The call could have been made to make her think someone didn’t want her finding out the truth.

Her head began to hurt from all the colliding theories.

“Stop it, Rayne,” she chided herself. “Work with the evidence, not with some half-formed theories.”

For the time being she went with the thought that someone was getting nervous. Which meant that she was right from the start.

She needed to talk to Cole.

Instead of going home, she drove to his hotel.

Cole Garrison had a room on the fourteenth floor. Suites were located on the seventeenth. Riding up, she wondered why he hadn’t booked himself a suite. From what she’d gleaned, the man could well afford it.

He didn’t answer when she knocked. Giving him to the count of ten, she knocked again, harder this time. There was still no response. Debating between going for the desk clerk or just opening the door herself, a trick she’d picked up from someone who’d worked summers at the hotel, she found she had to do neither.

The door finally opened.

“It’s about time. Where were you?” she asked as she strode in. Turning around to face him, she came to a dead stop.

He was wet, dripping and dressed in only a towel. A relatively small towel, given the length of his body.

Damn.

It was the first word that echoed in her head, silently uttered in sheer admiration for the upper torso on display.

Rayne had no idea that he was so sculpted beneath his finely tailored suit, although his broad shoulders had clearly hinted at it.

It took her a very long, very hot second to find her tongue. Her words felt all stuck together when they finally emerged. “Most people shower in the morning.”

His towel was in danger of going south at any second. Cole secured it as best he could, keeping one hand over the point where the ends joined together. He wondered if she knew that the look in her eyes was flattering. And stirring. “Most people don’t have a waiter spill Rigatoni Alfredo in their lap.”

“Ouch.” She winced in utter sympathy, her eyes traveling down to the area in question before zipping back up again as she realized what she was doing. “No damage done, I trust.”