Marie Ferrarella – Cavanaugh's Surrender (страница 2)
He had already powered down his computer because Stacy, displaying a rare flair for punctuality, had just waltzed through the squad room door and had instantly made him the envy of every other breathing male in the vicinity.
Stacy, with the hips from heaven and the sinful mouth, who simply by walking across the floor could cause a eunuch to have lustful thoughts, was his date tonight. He was taking her out for dinner, dancing and a hot night of even hotter sex. The blond would-be model was his kind of woman. Gorgeous, passionate and totally uninterested in a permanent relationship.
Tonight had all the makings of an absolutely perfect evening.
But then his lieutenant had summoned him away from the doorway just as he was a hair’s breadth away from being free and clear and making it into the hall.
No, that wasn’t actually true, he thought in resignation, his hands tightening on the steering wheel until his knuckles were all but straining against his skin. Even if he had been in the middle of that passionate evening, enjoying all of Stacy’s fabulously assembled attributes, his cell would have rung, calling him away from the ecstasy that shimmered before him, beckoning him onward because duty called.
When you’re the next one up, you’re the next one up. It was a simple, albeit hard, fact of life that went along with carrying a shield and a weapon.
So, instead of hot filet mignon, his dinner tonight would probably be the last couple of slices of the cold, leftover pizza in his refrigerator. And instead of a hot woman in his bed, he’d be sleeping alone tonight.
That was, if he got any sleep at all. A homicide detective with four years of experience under his belt, he’d learned that some cases unfurled slowly, inch by painful inch, while others ran you right into the ground from the moment you stepped into the crime scene arena and silently pledged to solve whatever needed solving.
Daylight had receded and the evening was making itself comfortable. He drove, looking for the right building, still wishing that he’d been engaged in a job that defined specific hours where the end of the day was the end of the day.
Wishing wouldn’t make it so. Besides, Stacy, pouting prettily, had perked up at the promise of a rain check.
He laughed softly to himself, wondering if the woman thought that rain was actually involved in a rain check. He wouldn’t put it past her. Luckily, it wasn’t her brain that attracted him. After having to be on his toes all the time, it was nice to kick back sometimes and just let his brain rest.
Pulling up before the right apartment building, Logan saw that there were absolutely no empty spaces available along the long block. He debated driving to the parking structure on the next block, but he decided instead to double-park his vehicle in the fervent hope that his part in this wouldn’t take all that long.
From the sketchy details he’d been given, it sounded pretty much like a cut-and-dried suicide—end of story. Once he verified that it was, maybe he could still even get hold of Stacy and at least get to enjoy the second half of the evening—that was, after all, the only thing that either one of them actually wanted from the other. Hot sex, enjoyable and a few minutes respite from the world they dealt with on a regular basis.
The thought made him smile as he got out of the car and locked it behind him.
The apartment in question was on the third floor. Once he got off the elevator, Logan found he didn’t need to acquaint himself with the floor’s layout or the way the apartment numbers were arranged to locate the one where his services were needed. The yellow tape and the stoic police officer standing guard did that for him.
Vaguely recognizing the weary-looking older officer, he nodded at the man. Their paths had probably crossed at one point or another, Logan thought.
“My dad here yet?”
It was actually meant as a rhetorical question. This was the tail end of the day shift, but his father, the head of the CSI day lab, was dedicated beyond belief. He was the one who had instilled his work ethic in him and his siblings long before they had discovered that they were related to the Cavanaughs.
Besides, there was all this yellow tape across the front of the entrance, a sure sign that his father and some of the team who worked for him were in there, carefully documenting and preserving everything with such precision it would have absolutely stunned the average mind.
The officer, Dale Hanlon, shook his head. “No, not yet.”
Logan stopped, surprised as he turned to regard the officer. Unless there were multiple crime scenes happening at once—something that had yet to occur in Aurora—in the past year—his father had taken to being present with his team at each crime scene that they processed.
This wasn’t making any sense to him. “Then who put up all this yellow tape?” he asked.
“I did.”
The low, controlled female voice came from behind him. The vague thought that the voice was more suited to an intimate dinner than a crime scene crossed Logan’s mind as he turned around again.
Logan found himself looking into the saddest blue eyes he’d ever seen.
They were also, quite possibly, the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, which was saying a great deal considering that the Cavanaughs were fairly littered with members who had blue eyes of all hues and shades.
The eyes were set in a striking, heart-shaped face that would have easily launched a thousand love songs, he couldn’t help thinking. Sometimes, Logan decided, this job did have its perks.
“Are you part of the crime scene investigation unit?” Logan heard himself asking as he quickly assessed the slender, pale-looking blonde standing before him. “Or do you just have a thing for crime scene tape?” he quipped wryly, trying to lighten the moment. She seemed much too serious for someone so young. He knew this job, especially this part of the job, could really get to people if they didn’t take any precautions and insulate themselves properly.
His flippant manner caught Destiny off guard for a second. Since the officer at the door hadn’t tried to turn the man away, that had to mean that he was with the Aurora police force.
Terrific. Just her luck. They’d sent a brash, cocky detective who looked as if he was in love with the sound of his own voice and, most likely, with the image he saw in his bathroom mirror each morning. Dark-haired, green-eyed, he was as handsome as they came, and she was certain that he knew it.
She was familiar with the type, and right now it was the last thing she needed. She needed a professional detective, not a male model.
“I’m with the crime scene investigation unit,” she told him, her voice low and remarkably stoic. She surprised herself.
It was all she could do to hold it together. Part of Destiny still didn’t believe that any of this was actually happening. The other part felt as if she was slowly slipping into shock and would, at any moment, just completely lose it.
The moment the thought formed, it struck Destiny as ironic. After all, at this point
Destiny struggled to keep her angry tears in check.
Logan nodded, taking the attractive woman’s information at face value. “I guess this is just an open-and-shut case,” he surmised. “A suicide,” he added, telling her what the lieutenant had told him. Then, his mouth curving in a particularly captivating smile, he asked, “How is it that I’ve never seen you before?” He would have certainly remembered someone who looked like her. He had a feeling that if she smiled, she could light up a room. Even somber, there was something exceedingly attractive and compelling about her. “Are you new to the team?”
She didn’t bother answering his last question. At another time and place, she might have been more than mildly interested in his attention. Destiny wasn’t averse to having an occasional good time, as long as no promises were exchanged or expected. She was married to her work, and most of the men she’d encountered felt that they should come first in a woman’s life, not second.
Right now, all her energy was focused on not breaking down and, more important than that, on finding who had done this to her sister.
“It’s not a suicide,” Destiny informed the detective firmly.
About to walk to where he could view the deceased’s body, Logan turned instead and focused on the intense crime scene investigator. She sounded as if there was no room for argument.
“Why?” he asked, the detective in him pushing the playboy far into the background. “Did you find something that would indicate that the woman was murdered?”
“Not yet,” Destiny answered between clenched teeth. “But I will.”
Okay, he was officially confused, Logan thought. Was there some sort of an agenda he was missing? Exactly what did this woman mean by “not yet”? What did she know that he didn’t? He didn’t like playing catch-up.
“If there are no indications that it’s