Cavanaugh on Duty(22)

Removing the lid, she proceeded to take the container into both her hands as if it held life-affirming liquid. She looked at it longingly, but refrained from taking that first sip.

Instead, she protested, “But then you don’t have one.”

“I can get one from the coffee machine down the hall. As long as it’s hot, that’s all that matters. Besides—” he nodded at the container she was holding “—that’s not my first one of the morning. And if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you had my coffee than I had your bullet lodged somewhere in my torso because you were half-asleep when the gun went off.”

Having heard enough, she took a deep sip and then sighed contentedly. “And they said that chivalry was dead.”

“They,” Esteban replied as he headed out into the hallway to get a container of coffee to replace the one he’d just given her, “were right. This is a purely selfish move on my part. I figure I need to stay alive if I’m ever going to dance on Jorge Lopez’s grave.”

The name meant nothing to her, but she ventured a guess as he walked back into the room three minutes later. “Jorge Lopez. I take it that he’s the one who runs the drug cartel.”

“Yes, he is.” The answer was automatic. And then the significance of her rhetorical question hit him. “What do you know about the cartel?” Esteban asked suspiciously, watching her closely.

Still cradling the cup in both hands, Kari realized that she might have slipped. Was she supposed to know the drug lord’s name or not? She hated playing games like this.

Kari shrugged in response to his question.

“Same thing that everyone else does,” she answered. “That the cartel is evil and should be eradicated before all those vulnerable kids wind up either dead or getting hooked—or both.”

She’d almost blown it, Kari upbraided herself. She hadn’t made up her mind yet whether to tell him that she knew about his family and offer her condolences, or to just continue playing it by ear for the time being.

For now, she went with the latter.

“Why do you ask?” Kari said innocently.

His eyes held hers for a long, penetrating moment before he looked away. “No reason. Just thought maybe you’d heard something.”

She decided to push it a little further, since that was what she would have done under normal circumstances. “Like what?”

“Like me getting back undercover.”

He really wanted that, didn’t he? She felt bad for him. But she also knew that saying so was the fastest way of getting her head handed to her.

So instead, she cracked, “And give up this glamorous life where you can shower, shave and put on clean clothes in the morning? Surely you’re kidding.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice a monotone. “Dunno what I must have been thinking. So why did you stay here?” he asked. She hadn’t given him an answer yet.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I thought that maybe if I stared at that board hard enough, and it was quiet enough, something I’d missed before might just come to me.”

He looked at her, mildly interested as he sampled his coffee from the vending machine. It was particularly bitter—but not particularly hot. It was hard not making a face.

“And did it?”

“Yeah—that I still have no idea what the connection is between these two victims.” There was frustration evident in her voice. “What we need,” she told him, “is more data to work with.”

“Maybe there doesn’t have to be a connection,” he suggested, setting the offending container of coffee down on his desk. “Maybe the killer just doesn’t like nice, retired people who try to make a difference. Maybe seeing them go about their lives makes him feel worse about himself.”

Kari looked at him, impressed. But then, she recalled, he’d struck her as being smart back in high school. A jock who not only actually studied for exams—but who did well on them.

“That sounds very philosophical,” she told him with a smile.

Esteban tossed off her compliment with an indifferent shrug. “Psych 101.”

“Hey, Hyphen, Fernandez...get in here.” Lieutenant Morrow stepped out of his office and called out to them.

Kari pulled herself up to her feet, waiting for the drained feeling to leave her. She handed Esteban back his coffee container. It was still half-full.

“Thanks,” she told him, nodding at the container. And then she indicated the lieutenant, who’d already gone back into his office and was waiting for them to follow. “I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

Esteban said nothing. Taking the container back, he left it on his desk standing next to its smaller, rejected brethren, and followed behind Kari to the lieutenant’s office.

Morrow didn’t bother closing the door, giving them the impression that they weren’t going to be in there all that long.

The impression was right.

“You got another one,” he announced the second Esteban was in the office.

She didn’t have to ask what he meant by “another one,” because she knew. Still, she could hope that he was wrong. “You sure it’s our guy?” Kari asked.

The look he gave her said he hadn’t gotten to where he was by making mistakes. “It’s him, all right. Throat slashed from behind.”

Kari asked the next logical question, since she was trying to establish just what the killer’s M.O. was. “Retired?”

Morrow looked at her, a puzzled furrow stretched across his brow. “What?”

“The victim,” Kari underscored. “Was she—?”

“He,” Morrow corrected.

Esteban surprised her by picking up the thread and asking the lieutenant, “Was he retired?”

The lieutenant shook his head. “Some of his coworkers found him at work when they came in this morning. That’ll give them nightmares for a long time,” he speculated. “He was an accountant,” Morrow added, then produced the all-important slip of paper and held it out to Kari. “Here’s the address.”

Kari looked it over before sliding the paper into her pocket. She really should have gone home last night and gotten a decent night’s sleep. That would have helped her more than finding out about Steve’s— Esteban’s—past, she told herself.

With a sigh, she looked in her partner’s direction. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Why the long face?” he asked as they walked out of the lieutenant’s office. “You said you wanted more data,” he reminded her. They stopped at her desk so she could pick up her purse.

She did and they were on their way. Only then did she answer his question.

“I meant more data about the other two victims. I didn’t want a third body to turn up.” That was the last thing she had wanted.

“Maybe you should have been more specific,” he told her.

Aghast, she shot him a look as they waited for the elevator to arrive. “What are you suggesting...that there’s a serial killer fairy or a homicide genie out there, granting me three wishes?”

The elevator arrived and they got on. Since there was no one else in it, they continued talking. “No, just something more along the lines of ‘careful what you wish for,’” he answered.

She was just punchy enough to see the merit in his argument. That alone convinced her that she needed more sleep.

“Well, if I did have three wishes...” she began.

“Yeah?” God help him, he was actually curious. Was this woman getting to him after all? He was going to have to watch that, not let himself risk opening up to her. You never knew who was listening, he thought.

“I’d wish my partner talked more to me.”

That made him laugh. “Again, careful what you wish for,” he warned.

“Why? Because you’re going to turn into a chatterbox and talk my ear off?” Now that was funny, she thought. “There’s more of a chance of me sprouting wings and flying—or our serial killer turning himself in and making a full confession,” she tossed in, “than you suddenly running off at the mouth.”

She had that pegged right, Esteban thought. “Hey, I’ve got an idea—why don’t you just enjoy the peace and quiet?” he suggested.

She pretended it was an honest question and gave him an honest answer. “Because peace and quiet make me nervous,” she admitted.

He laughed dryly, thinking she was joking. But one look at her face and he could see that she wasn’t. “That’s a new one.”

She could see by Esteban’s expression that he didn’t believe her. Having nothing to lose, she decided to set him straight.

“No, really,” she insisted. “When my surroundings are peaceful and quiet, I know that it’s just a matter of time before something happens to shatter that...and at least half the time, what shatters peace and quiet is really not a good thing.”