Cavanaugh Standoff. Marie Ferrarella
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wall “—and also find out who was tending bar last night. Maybe the bartender noticed if our victim was hanging out with someone. It would be nice if we could finally come up with a real witness who saw something we can use.”
Determined not to be ignored, Sierra spoke up. “You think the victim was in the bar before he was killed?”
Forced to acknowledge her, Ronan said, “It’s a safe bet.”
Choi leaned in over the body and took a deep breath. His expression became slightly pained. “Oh, yeah, he still smells like he was soaked in alcohol.”
“That could be because the guy who found him threw up when he realized what he’d just tripped over,” Sierra pointed out. “And according to the statement that guy gave the officer on the scene,” she said, “he’d been in the Shamrock drinking for hours. I just talked to the officer,” she added before any of the detectives could ask her how she had found that piece of information out.
Making no comment, Ronan looked at Choi and Martinez. “When you’re done, come back to the station.”
“Okay,” Choi readily agreed. “Is that where you’re going to be?”
In response, Ronan first turned toward his uncle. “Let me take a look at that wallet you found,” he requested.
Sean handed the plastic-encased wallet to him. It had been placed inside the envelope with its two sides spread open so that the driver’s license was visible. Ronan read the address, then handed the secured evidence back to his uncle.
“I’m going to Walker’s apartment to see if he lived with anyone who might be able to shed some light on the situation, tell us if Walker was targeted recently by anyone.”
“You mean like a note from his friendly neighborhood serial killer saying, ‘you’re next’?” Sierra asked with a touch of sarcasm.
Ronan shot her an annoyed look. “You think this is a joke?”
“Not at all, but at least I got you to talk to me.”
Ronan was already turning away. Sierra began to talk more quickly. “I guess since you didn’t give me a separate assignment, you want me to go with you.”
He had to admit that her persistence reminded him of his sisters, but he gave no outward indication as he asked, “And what makes you think that?”
“Simple process of elimination,” Sierra responded without any hesitation.
He knew he had to utilize her somehow and maybe she could to be useful. “All right, you might as well come along. You might come in handy if there’s a next of kin to notify.” Ronan began walking back to his car. “I’m not much good at that.”
“I’m surprised,” Sierra commented.
Reaching the car, Ronan turned to look at her. “If you’re going to be sarcastic—”
“No, I’m serious,” she told him then went on to explain her rationale. “You’re so detached, I just assumed it wouldn’t bother you telling a person that someone they’d expected to come home was never going to do that again. It would bother them, of course,” she couldn’t help adding, “but not you.”
Ronan got into his vehicle, buckled up and pulled out in what seemed like one fluid motion, all the while chewing on what this latest addition to his team had just said. Part of him just wanted to let it go. But he couldn’t.
“I’m not heartless,” he informed her. “I just don’t allow emotions to get in the way and I don’t believe in using more words than are absolutely necessary,” he added pointedly since he knew that seemed to bother her.
“Well, lucky for you, I do,” she told him with what amounted to the beginnings of a smile. “I guess that’s what’ll make us such good partners.”
He looked at her, stunned. He viewed them as being like oil and water—never being able to mix. “Is that your take on this?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes,” she answered cheerfully.
The fact that she appeared to have what one of his brothers would label a “killer smile” notwithstanding, Ronan just shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
“Oh, you’ll get to believe it soon enough,” she told him. Before he could say anything, Sierra just continued talking to him and got down to the immediate business at hand. “I’m going to need to see your files on the other murders once we’re back in the squad room so I can be brought up to date.”
He didn’t even spare her a look. “Fine.”
“Are you always this cheerful?” she asked, “or is there something in particular that’s bothering you?”
This time Ronan did slant a quick glance in her direction. The woman sounded as if she was actually asking that, not just being nosy. He’d grown up in a family with talkative sisters and there was a time when the noise of constant chatter hadn’t bothered him. But that had been before life had taken the drastic, horrible turn that it had, changing all the ground rules on him.
Forever changing his life.
These days he preferred work and quiet, but for now, it looked like one of those ingredients would be seriously missing from the equation.
Moreover, he had the distinct feeling that if he mentioned to Carlyle that she was talking too much, she’d only get worse despite any so-called “efforts” to rein herself in. So, for now, he fell back on a plausible, albeit vague, excuse.
“I don’t like serial killers,” he said between clenched teeth.
That wasn’t it and she knew it. Her guess was that O’Bannon didn’t like being saddled with her, but he was just going to have to make the best of it. She intended to make him glad she was on his team rather than viewing it as some sort of cross he had to bear.
“I don’t think anyone does,” she said conversationally. “Anyone normal, anyway,” she added just before she flashed him another thousand-watt smile. “Lucky thing for you, you’re in the business of getting rid of them.”
He spared her a look that defied reading, so she put her best guess to it. He was probably labeling her a Pollyanna in his mind, but there was really more to her philosophy than that.
“You have to always find the upside to everything, no matter how bad it might seem to you at the time,” she told him. “That’s something my dad once told me.” And then she dropped the bombshell, thinking it was best if he found this little piece of information out sooner than later. “I think he picked it up from your mom.”
For a second Ronan didn’t think he’d heard her correctly. But he had keen hearing and he had heard everything the loquacious detective he’d been forced to add to his team had said since Carver had called her over to his desk, so he reasoned he hadn’t misheard. That raised an immediate question.
“You know my mother?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes, I do.” Then, before he could ask, she volunteered just how her father knew his mother. “The ambulance company she runs is attached to the firehouse my dad oversees.” Which was just another example of what a small world this really was.
Granted he didn’t know anything about her background, but then he didn’t know any more than he had to about either Martinez or Choi. It was what they brought to the table as detectives that had always mattered to him.
Ronan glanced at her for half a second before looking back on the road. “Your dad’s a fireman?” he asked in disbelief.
It was an old, standing joke that firemen and policemen were natural rivals. How did she square being in the police department with her family?
Sierra seemed completely comfortable with her admission. “He is. So are my three brothers. Everyone at the fire station thinks your mother’s a great lady—and a hell of an