In Bed With the Badge (10 page)

From where Riley stood, the effort was doomed to failure.

“I don’t
want
to calm down,” he retorted with passion. “I want those two bastards dead and these two out of my house.” The professor waved his hand at Riley and her partner, then glanced toward the bedroom. Commotion still came from within the room. “Along with all their unnecessary cronies.”

“Those ‘cronies’ are very necessary, Professor,” Wyatt assured him patiently. “I think you know that. And we’ll be gone as soon as you give us your statement,” he promised.

Tall, with gaunt features, the professor drew himself up and gave the impression of an annoyed creature of the night. “I was robbed, end of story.”

“Oh, I think there’s a little more to the story than that,” Riley speculated, doing her best to sound sympathetic. She looked directly at the bruises on his face. “You did something to make at least one of them mad at you. What did you do?”

“Nothing.” The single word effectively withdrew
him completely from the people who were in the room. Riley had a feeling the man was one hard-nosed educator. No curves when it came to grades in his class, she mused.

It was Rhonda who gave them their answer. “He stood up for me.”

“Rhonda.” There was a warning note in the professor’s voice.

Well, at least he wasn’t a man who liked to be in the center of things and draw attention to himself, Riley thought.

“Well, you did.” Rhonda shifted and eyed the two detectives. “His own hands were tied up and everything, but Johnny still tried to get that awful creep to take his hands away from me.”

“Very brave of you, Professor.” Riley’d almost called him “Johnny” as well, but stopped herself just in time.

He shrugged off the compliment. “Yes, well, didn’t get me very far, did it?” the professor grumbled.

Riley turned toward Wyatt. “May I see you for a second?” she asked.

Impatient, Wyatt excused himself from the two victims and stepped out of the room with Riley.

“What’s up?” he asked. It wasn’t customary to back away before an interview was over and as far as he was concerned, it wasn’t over.

“Why don’t you take the professor aside and question him by yourself? Without me or his girlfriend around,” she suggested, keeping her voice low. “He might open
up to another man.” And then she smiled at him. “You know how fragile the male ego is.”

“Not personally,” he replied. “But that’s not a bad idea, McIntyre,” he said, nodding his head. “It’s worth a try. Without him around, his girlfriend might feel more comfortable about telling you exactly what happened.”

“Might,” Riley agreed.

“Let’s give it a shot,” Sam said just before he crossed back into the living room.

New plan in place, they proceeded to divide and, with any luck, conquer.

Bringing the two victims together again, Riley and Sam were on the verge of wrapping up the interview when Rhonda commented to Cahil that Anna and Ellen would be in for a surprise tomorrow.

“Anna and Ellen?” Wyatt repeated. “Who are they and why are they going to be surprised?”

“Anna’s my maid,” Cahil answered. “Ellen’s her daughter. They come in twice a week to clean my house. I don’t see how that has anything to do with this.” A private man, he resented having his life dissected this way. And then his eyes widened as he followed the train of thought he was sure was going through the detectives’ minds. “It wasn’t them,” he said with feeling. “Weren’t you listening? I said that those were men here last night, not women.”

Sam made no comment on the professor’s defense. Instead, he asked, “Do either Anna or Ellen have the key to your house?”

“Of course they have a key,” was the exasperated answer. “How else are they going to get in here when I’m at the university? Through the chimney?”

“Works for Santa Claus,” Riley quipped. It earned her a dark look from the professor.

Fear obviously trumped loyalty in Rhonda’s eyes. Growing excited, she asked, “Do you think that was it? They gave the key to someone?”

“It’s a possibility,” Riley allowed. “We have to check it out. Until then,” she continued as she looked at Cahil to emphasize her point, “they’re innocent until proven otherwise. We’ll need to get in contact with them.”

Cahil grudgingly gave them Anna’s phone number.

It was time to go. “Thank you, Professor Cahil, Ms. Williams,” Sam said, calling an end to the interview. “We’ll be getting back to you in the next few days,” he promised.

With that, he placed his hand on the small of Riley’s back, ushering her out of the room and toward the front door.

Behind them, they heard Professor Cahil snort. “I won’t hold my breath.”

There were days, Riley thought as she crossed the threshold, when protecting and serving turned out to be harder than others.

R
iley quickly discovered that, as in almost every department of the police force, man power in the robbery division was limited. She and Wyatt, along with the other detectives in Robbery, didn’t lack for cases to work on. But due to the publicity that the home invasion cases had garnered and the fact that there were now three of them, they had gone to the top of the priority list.

Day in, day out, despite the fact that they sacrificed their lunchtimes and pored over the same evidence until they could re-create the reports from memory, the cases seemed to taunt them. They were still missing something.

Riley had a feeling that the solution was hiding in plain sight. She just couldn’t grab onto it. Yet. It was
only a matter of time before that one crucial piece of evidence would hit them. She just had to be patient.

“I must’ve been over all the details a hundred times,” Sam complained, tossing down the folder he’d been looking through. With a deep, impatient sigh, he rocked back in his chair, staring at the bulletin board. Looking to find what he’d missed before.

Almost everything in the folders he’d put together matched, in some fashion, the abbreviated notes on the board they’d put up next to their desks.

But so far, there’d been no breakthroughs. The professor’s cleaning ladies turned out to be just that: cleaning ladies. A background check on both women connected them to only one unsavory character. Anna’s nephew, Jorge. But Jorge was currently doing time for almost beating someone to death who’d had the misfortune of looking at his wife. That ruled him out. In addition, a quick review of Jorge’s history showed that he didn’t have the kind of pull to get others to work for him and he definitely didn’t have the smarts needed to run that kind of operation from his jail cell.

The other two families didn’t employ any sort of cleaning service.

“You say something?” Riley asked, hearing Wyatt mutter something inaudible under his breath.

He glanced up at her. “Yeah. This running around in circles is getting to me.”

That made two of them, she thought. “We need to unwind,” she agreed. “Both of us,” she emphasized with a sigh.

“Good luck with that.” He looked accusingly at the piles on his desk, but he was too brain weary for the moment to pick up another folder.

It was Friday and it was late. He should be going home. But even that didn’t mean he could unwind. Ever since Lisa had come into his life, he didn’t even stop at Malone’s. Alcohol might make his brain fuzzy just when he had to be sharp.

He closed his eyes for a moment. This parenting business weighed heavily on his shoulders.

“I’m surprised the lieutenant doesn’t have us working overtime,” he said. Whatever extra time he and McIntyre devoted to this was off the books and on their own time. “Barker did say that the mayor was really pressing to get these invasions cleared and off the books.”

Riley didn’t want to hear about official overtime. That meant having to put in a mandatory number of hours and this was already nagging her brain. “A tired mind doesn’t operate at maximum efficiency,” she pointed out.

He laughed shortly. “You thinking of having that embroidered on your towels, or just your T-shirt?” Wyatt asked.

“Just stating the obvious.” Riley paused for a moment, looking at him, debating whether or not to say what had been buzzing around in her head for the last half hour.

The pensive expression on her face was not lost on him. Lately, he noted, especially when he was tired, he caught himself watching her more often than he should. Watching her and having thoughts that went beyond
the realm of their professional partnership. Right now, he wished Evans was back—or that McIntyre wasn’t so damn attractive.

“Something on your mind, McIntyre?” he asked.

Rather than say yes, she asked him a question of her own. “You like barbecued food?”

He stared at her. That wasn’t what he’d expected her to ask. Actually, he wasn’t really certain
what
he expected her to say. He’d just vaguely thought it would have to do with one of the cases. There were times when his partner’s mind seemed to slip into an alternate universe.

“Well, do you?” she pressed when he didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, I’ve been known to like barbecued food.” Why was she asking him what he liked to eat? “McIntyre, are you asking me out on a date?” He splayed his hand against his chest, feigning surprise. “This is so sudden.”

“It’s not sudden, it’s nonexistent,” she informed him. “I’m just debating inviting you over to Andrew Cavanaugh’s place tomorrow. You and Lisa,” she added, realizing that she’d omitted that important piece of information. “By the way, Lisa’s the only reason I’m even thinking about this invitation.”

He thought of baiting her but was too tired to follow it through. “What’s tomorrow?”

“Saturday,” she answered glibly.

“I know it’s Saturday.” He tried not to sound exasperated. It wasn’t Riley’s fault he wasn’t sleeping much at night, lying there listening for the sound of Lisa
crying again. So far, except for that first night, the little girl hadn’t. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t again. If she did, he didn’t want her to go uncomforted. “I mean why’s the chief having a barbecue?”

“Because he can,” she answered glibly, adding, “Because he likes to cook and because he
really
likes having family around to eat what he cooks. Technically, there’s no occasion, but it’s been so hot lately that he decided to take advantage of the weather.”

He’d stopped listening at the end of the second sentence. “Only one problem with that. I’m not family,” Sam pointed out in response to the eyebrow she lifted quizzically.

“You’re a cop, that makes you family in the Chief’s eyes. His mantra, not mine,” she added in case Wyatt wanted to demur. “C’mon, what d’you say, Wyatt? There’ll be great food, great conversation. Lisa can play with the gaggle of kids who’ll be there and you’ll get a chance to unwind.”

He had to admit he was sorely tempted. Socializing had died by the wayside ever since he’d taken on the mantle of fatherhood. After hours, McIntyre was the only one he socialized with and both of them focused on Lisa.

“I’ve heard about these parties the Chief throws,” he confessed. The food, he’d heard, was out of this world.

She laughed softly. “You’d have to live in another state in order not to hear about them. His hospitality—and culinary abilities—are famous.” She looked at her partner. “So, how about it?”

He was already won over, but because it was Riley, he played it out a little longer. “I don’t know. What time does it start?”

Riley grinned triumphantly. She knew she could wear him down. She wasn’t about to explore why she felt this little thrill in the pit of her stomach.

“Starts at noon, goes on forever. Or at least until everyone’s too tired to talk.”

A whimsical smile played on his lips. “That include you?”

For a while there, because of what had happened to Sanchez, she hadn’t been herself. But now Riley felt as if she was coming around again. Coming back from a dark mind-set she wouldn’t have wished on anyone. The relief she experienced was incredible.

“Sometimes,” she allowed.

“All right,” he agreed, then qualified his reason for going. “I think you’re right. Lisa might get a kick out of it.”

“Of course I’m right,” she said glibly. “I can swing by tomorrow, pick you up.”

“Or you can just give me the address now.”

Riley made no effort to reach for a piece of paper to write the address down. “That won’t assure me that you’ll come,” she told Wyatt bluntly.

“Scout’s honor carry any weight with you?” he asked archly.

“It would—if you’d been a Boy Scout,” she told him with a knowing smile. “But you weren’t.”

“How would you know that?” Sam asked, then
realized the answer. “Have you been digging into my background, McIntyre?”

“Maybe a little,” she admitted. There was no embarrassment, no apology in her voice.

Why would she go through the trouble? Was there something going on he wasn’t aware of? An investigation came to mind, but there was no reason for one.

“But you know me,” Sam protested.

She gave him what passed as a mysterious smile. “Does anyone really know anyone?”

The sigh that escaped was an impatient one. “Don’t go all philosophical on me, McIntyre. Why were you digging into my background?”

“Because I don’t like surprises. Because I wanted to know more about the man I’d been partnered with. Besides, it’s not digging, it’s just familiarizing myself with some background information.”

Had she talked to someone, or just looked at his personnel file? In either case, he couldn’t say he liked the invasion. “Asking me would have been simpler.”

“Would you have answered?” she challenged.

“Maybe.” His expression gave nothing away. “If you’d played your cards right,” he added.

Yeah, right.
“That’s what I thought,” she said out loud. “My way’s better. Anyway, I wasn’t going for any deep, dark secrets—”

“Good,” he said, cutting her off. “Because I haven’t got any.”

Everyone had secrets, Riley thought. Some just had more or bigger ones than others. “—I just wanted to
satisfy my curiosity,” she concluded as if he hadn’t interrupted her.

Riley leaned back in her chair, unconsciously rotating her shoulders to get rid of the cramp in her muscles. He looked up and saw her moving her head from left to right. It was a familiar movement that he’d seen boxers employ just before a bout was about to begin.

“Getting ready for a main event?” he asked her, amused.

“Just trying to get rid of this crick in my neck.”

“That’s what you get for hunching over your desk.”

She hadn’t noticed that Wyatt was observing her. Most of the time, she thought he was oblivious of her presence. “I didn’t know posture counted in the robbery division.”

“Everything counts in the robbery division,” he said flippantly, getting up. He circled behind her.

She turned in her chair, trying to see where he was going. To her surprise, Wyatt righted her chair to keep her from facing him. “What are you doing?”

“Getting ready to strangle you and I’d rather do it from behind so those big blue eyes of yours don’t get to me,” he cracked as he put his hands on her shoulders. She jumped in response and he laughed. “Easy, McIntyre, I was only kidding about strangling you. I thought I’d try to help you work out those kinks.” As he began to knead, he found that he had to use excessive pressure. “Damn, but you’re tense,” he commented, pressing harder. “This is what the Hulk must feel like after he goes green and winds up erupting out of his clothes.”

Lovely, he was comparing her to a lumpy, angry
green comic book character. “Sure know how to turn a girl’s head, don’t you, Wyatt?”

“I don’t think of you as a girl, McIntyre.”

It was a lie, but a necessary one, he felt. Necessary because in reality he thought of her as a woman far too much for either of their good. Doing so interfered in so many different ways that it boggled the mind.

“Good to know,” she murmured. She caught her breath, trying not to make any whimpering sounds. Wyatt was using way too much force kneading her shoulders, but she’d be damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of wincing. Instead, she tried to concentrate on something else. “You really think that I’ve got big blue eyes?”

Still working her shoulders, he leaned over and peered at her face. “Don’t you?”

“Yes.” She sat up a little straighter. The pain now shot to the top of her skull and the very roots of her hair. “But my other partners never noticed.”

He sincerely doubted that. “Trust me, unless they needed a seeing eye dog to get around, they noticed.”

Despite the fact that his rock-hard fingers created their own wave of pain with each pass of his hands, the stiffness in her shoulders seemed to abate somewhat. She felt almost human.

A sigh escaped her lips as she allowed herself to enjoy the sensation.

The moment was short-lived.

The phone on her desk rang. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was five-thirty. Thirty minutes past
the end of their shift. If she picked up the phone and it turned out to be an official call, she might not go home for a while yet.

Wyatt withdrew his hands from her shoulders. “Are you going to answer that?” he asked.

“I was hoping to outlast it,” she confessed with a sigh. Resigned, she picked up the receiver and put it to her ear. “McIntyre.”

“Just me, honey. I tried calling your cell, but I think you let the battery wind down again. Anyway,” the soft, familiar voice on the other end continued, “I’m calling to remind you about Andrew’s barbecue. It’s tomorrow.”

She relaxed in her chair. No emergencies, no robbery to follow up on. “I was just talking about it.”

“Oh?” Lila Cavanaugh made no attempt to hide her piqued interest. “To whom?”

“My partner, Mom.” She watched as Wyatt went back to his desk and closed down his computer. “I invited him and his daughter. I didn’t think Andrew would mind.”

“Mind?” Lila echoed with a soft laugh. “You know Andrew, the more the merrier. So tell me, how’s your partner adjusting to fatherhood?”

The question didn’t surprise her. Even though she hadn’t said a word about this new state of affairs that Wyatt found himself facing, she knew that word in her family traveled like the flames of a wildfire during the state’s dry season. Brenda knew and that was enough. All for one and one for all wasn’t just a slogan for a band
of fictional Musketeers, it also seemed to be the Cavanaugh/McIntyre family’s slogan, as well. What one knew, they all knew.

The price one paid for having them all there for you, she thought philosophically.

“Slowly, Mom, slowly.” She tried to avoid looking at Wyatt, but it couldn’t be helped. He had to know she was talking about him. “But he’s getting there. Gotta go. See you tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to it, honey,” her mother said. “And Riley?”

She’d almost replaced the receiver when she heard her mother say her name. She snatched it up just before it connected with the cradle. “Yes?”