Cavanaugh on Duty(16)

The latter returned the nod in kind, but refrained from saying anything.

“Not the same thing,” Kari pointed out. “We caught the case because it looks like it might be the work of the same guy who killed our retired mail carrier.”

“Actually, that’s why I’m here, too.” Picking up a case with one hand, a camera with the other, he strode toward the town-house door. A patrolman stood guarding it. “You know I can’t resist serial killer cases,” Sean said. “The sooner we can catch this killer and bring him—or her—in, the safer the public will be.”

It wasn’t anything that she hadn’t heard before. Her father firmly believed that while a common killer might have been motivated by the heat of the moment, a serial killer had a blood lust that was never satisfied.

However, of late, seeing the bodies of the two slaughtered retirees had somehow made it seem more personal. Her father was years away from considering retirement—she had a feeling that he intended to die with his lab coat on, processing a case—but these victims were closer to his age bracket and it made her look at him in a whole new light.

It made her want to protect him, even though she knew she couldn’t.

“Just don’t go poking around in dangerous places,” she cautioned.

Sean’s smile was warm and understanding. She wasn’t anywhere that he hadn’t been himself, time and again, whenever he watched one of his own go out to answer a call.

“I could say the same thing to you,” he reminded her. “And I’ve got the feeling that the warning would make about as much of an impression on you as it would on me.”

“Guess then that it’s a lucky thing you’re both related to half the police department and know they have your back,” Esteban commented.

Sean looked toward his daughter. “Straighten him out, Kari. I’ve got a crime scene to process.” With that, he walked into the town house.

Kari turned her attention to her partner, wondering if he was being sarcastic, reflective, or—? It was still early in the game, but she sincerely wished she was able to read Fernandez better.

But her father was right. In case he was being cynical, he needed to be set straight.

“They’d have our back even if we weren’t related. Just like they have yours.” She saw the skeptical look in his eyes. “I think you’ve been on your own too long, Fernandez. I think your superiors pulled you out just in time.”

“I don’t,” he retorted darkly.

She stared at him. Was he being serious, or just playing the macho card? “You do realize that it was just a matter of time—hours—before you were killed if they hadn’t,” she told him, refusing to believe that he actually meant what he’d just said.

“Maybe,” Esteban qualified in a way that indicated he was far from convinced that would have been his fate.

“The cartel made you,” she stressed. “That means they knew you were a cop,” she said needlessly. “How can you possibly think that their plans for you didn’t involve a cold slab and being plowed six feet under in some unmarked grave?” she demanded.

Did he think he was some kind of superhero who could defy bullets and death?

He was not about to have that argument here, especially not with her. “Let’s change the subject,” he ground out, abruptly ending the conversation.

Kari didn’t want to change the subject. She wanted to hammer away at this numbskull with the beautiful eyes until she got him to see reason. But having been raised with four brothers had taught her how futile it was to argue with a man who had stubbornly made up his mind—even if he was terminally wrong.

“Okay,” she allowed with forced cheerfulness, then couldn’t resist adding, “for now.”

It earned her another formidable look, which she pretended not to see.

Back to the case, she thought. That was the important thing.

“Let’s see if we can find out if the victim’s granddaughter is up to talking yet. Maybe she can give us a list of Mae’s friends.” She sighed, knowing that route usually led nowhere—but she had to try. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky and someone knows something they don’t know they know.”

Esteban shot her a sideways glance that told her what he thought of that idea, but he fell in step with her anyway.

They were just about to get back into the car in order to drive to the hospital where the distraught young woman had been taken when one of the crime scene investigators came hurrying out of the town house, calling to them to get their attention.

Tall and thin to the point of being almost gaunt, and with a mop of unruly dirty-blond hair that made him resemble a giant Q-tip, Silas Baker waved his hand over his head to make his presence known in case they couldn’t hear him.

They could.

“Detectives!”

They both turned from the car and looked in the investigator’s direction. The young man—Kari judged that he had to be younger than she was, which made him pretty young in her book—beckoned them forward.

“The boss found something he thought you might be interested in,” Silas volunteered with barely contained excitement.

His enthusiasm told her that he was new on the job. Kari quickened her pace, getting to the doorway a beat before her partner did.

Assuming that whatever it was her father had discovered and wanted them to see was at the heart of the crime scene, she headed back to the kitchen once she reentered the town house.

“Find something?” she asked her father, crossing to his side.

He’d just finished a very cursory examination of the body, taking care to be gentle and respectful of the dead. “Thought you might be interested in this. I found it clutched in the victim’s hand.” He addressed his words to both of them as he held out a see-through plastic envelope, the kind that was used to bag and tag evidence for cataloging.

Since she was closest to her father, Kari took the evidence bag and looked at it. At first glance, the bag appeared to contain a tiny charm, like the kind that could be found on an old-fashioned charm bracelet.

The sunlight coming in through the window over the sink hit the charm dead-on, making it glimmer like a ray of trapped sunshine.

“Okay,” she said gamely, not quite sure what she was supposed to see when she looked at it—and then she focused on the charm for the first time. Her heart thudded when she realized what it was supposed to be. “Oh, God, it’s a tiny scales of justice,” she breathed.

“So much for the copycat idea,” Esteban muttered, striking the theory off the board. “Looks like our killer is going on with his game.”

“Killing people isn’t a game,” Kari snapped, momentarily losing her temper because she felt so powerless to stop the murderer before he struck again. That he would murder once more was a near certainty at this point.

“It might be to him,” Esteban countered, his voice devoid of any emotion.

She looked at him sharply. Didn’t he feel anything? she wondered angrily.

“He’s right,” Sean told her, his voice low and steady, exhibiting how cool he always was, even under pressure. “This could be just a sick game to the killer, and until we know otherwise, that might be useful to keep in mind.”

She knew what the word “game” implied. “That would make the killer a cold-blooded sociopath.”

His tone didn’t change, but the expression on her father’s face was grim. “Exactly.”

Taking out her phone, Kari took a picture of the encased charm, then handed the evidence bag back to her father. The item had to be cataloged as evidence, but she wanted to show the photo to the victim’s granddaughter. She needed to find out whether the charm belonged to the victim...or if the killer had planted it in her hand rather than draw the symbol on her the way he had on William Reynolds.

“Thanks,” she said to her father, checking to see if the photograph had turned out clear. Satisfied, she put her cell phone away.

“No need for thanks. We’re on the same team, remember?” her father pointed out as he handed off the tagged charm to Silas, the tall, gangly investigator who had called them back. The latter locked away the evidence in his own meticulously organized black case.

“I need a reminder every now and then,” Kari told her father, only half kidding.

Rather than answer with a quip, her father replied, “I know,” just before he got back to work.

Esteban was silent as they walked back to the car and remained that way for the first couple of miles as they drove to the nearest hospital, where the victim’s granddaughter would have been taken.

Finally, ten minutes into the trip, he asked, “What did you mean by ‘still’?” and caught Kari completely off guard.

Because they hadn’t exchanged a single word since they’d left the crime scene, Kari had no idea what he was referring to. Confused, she glanced in his direction before looking back at the road.