The Mccaffertys: Matt. Lisa Jackson
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what has he got to say?”
“That he thinks there’s foul play,” McCafferty said, his eyes narrowing on Kelly as if he couldn’t quite figure her out. Tough. She was used to men distrusting her as a detective because she was a woman, and that’s what Matt McCafferty was saying; she could read it in his eyes. Well, that was just too damned bad. She wasn’t about to be bullied or intimidated. Not by anyone. Not even one of the high-and-mighty McCaffertys. Matt’s father, John Randall, had once been a rich, powerful and influential man in the county, and his descendants thought they could still throw their collective weights around. Well, not here.
“Has Striker got any proof that someone’s behind the accidents?” she asked.
Hesitation.
“I didn’t think so.” She slipped from the desk. “That’s it. Now, listen, I have work to do, and I don’t need you barging in here and making demands and—”
“Striker says there’s some paint on Randi’s rig. Maroon. Maybe from the other car when she was forced off the road.”
“If she was forced off,” Kelly reminded him. “She could have scraped another vehicle in a parking lot at home in Seattle for all we know. And we already know about the paint, so don’t come in here and insinuate that the department is inefficient or incompetent or any of the above, because we’re just being thorough. Got it?”
“Listen—”
“No, you listen to me, okay?” Her temper was stretched to the breaking point as she stepped around the desk and went toe-to-toe with him. “This force is doing everything in its power to try and find out what happened to your sister and your brother. Everything! We don’t take either accident lightly, believe you me. But we’re not jumping off the deep end here, either. Your sister’s Jeep could have hit ice. It’s just possible she lost control of the vehicle, it slid off the road up in Glacier and she ended up in the hospital in a damned coma. As for your brother, he was taking a big chance with his life flying a small craft in one helluva snowstorm. The engines failed. We’ll determine why. We haven’t yet ruled out foul play. We’re just being careful. The department can’t afford to go off half-cocked and making blind assumptions or accusations.”
“Meanwhile someone might be trying to kill off my family.”
“Who?” she demanded as she rounded the desk again, plopped down in her worn chair and took up her pen. Yanking a yellow legal pad from the credenza behind her, she dropped it on the desk and sat ready, ballpoint pressed against the clean sheet of paper. “Give me a list of suspects, anyone you know who might hold a grudge against the McCafferty clan.”
Matt’s eyes narrowed. “There are dozens.”
“Names, McCafferty, I want names.” She hoped she sounded professional, because he was cutting a little too close to the bone with his damned insinuations.
“You should know a few,” he said, and though she wanted to, she didn’t allow herself to rise to the bait.
“Don’t beat around the bush.”
“Okay, let’s start with your family,” he shot out.
Kelly’s back went up. “No one in my family has any ax to grind with your brother or half sister.” She raised her eyes and met the simmering anger in his.
“Just my dad.”
“Lots of people had problems with him. But he’s gone. And my family aren’t potential murderers, okay? So let’s not even go there.” She bit out the words but wouldn’t give in to the white-hot anger that threatened to take hold of her tongue. The nerve of the man. “Now…” She clicked the pen again. “Who would want to harm your sister, Randi, and your brother Thorne?”
Some of the anger seemed to drain from him. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m sure Thorne’s made his share of enemies. You don’t get to be a millionaire without someone being envious.”
“Envious enough to try and kill him?” Kelly said.
“Damn, I’d hope not, but…” He closed his eyes for a second. “I don’t know.”
That, at least, sounded honest. “He’s based out of Denver, isn’t he?”
“He was. The corporate headquarters are there.”
“But he’s moving back here and getting married.” It wasn’t a question, but Matt nodded and Kelly noticed the way his dark hair shone under the humming fluorescent lamps. He unbuttoned his jacket, revealing a flannel shirt stretched over a broad chest. Black hairs sprang from the opening at the neck. She tore her eyes away, gave herself a swift mental kick for noticing any part of his male anatomy and scribbled down some notes about Thorne, the oldest of the brothers.
“Yeah, he’s marrying Nicole Stevenson.” Matt managed a half smile that was incredibly and irritatingly sexy. “Lots of people are losing that particular bet.”
Kelly understood. Thorne, like his brothers, had been a confirmed bachelor. He, along with Matt and the youngest brother, Slade, had raised holy hell in high school and cut a wide swath through the local girls. Rich, handsome and smart to the point of arrogance, they’d soon been regarded as the most eligible bachelors in the county and thereby broken more than their share of hearts. Matt, in particular, had earned the reputation of being a ladies’ man. Love ’Em and Leave ’Em McCafferty.
But now it seemed that the first of the invincible and never-to-be-wed brothers was about to fall victim to matrimony. The bride was an emergency room doctor at the local hospital, a single mother with twin girls.
“Okay, so what about your sister?” she asked, trying to keep her mind on business. “Any known enemies?”
Annoyance pulled the smile off of Matt’s cocky jaw. This wasn’t new territory. Ever since the accident, the sheriff’s department had been looking into Randi’s life. “I don’t know,” Matt admitted. “I’m sure she had her share. Hell, she wrote a column for the Seattle Clarion.”
“Advice to the lovelorn?” Kelly filled in.
“More than that. It’s more like general, no-nonsense advice to single people. It’s called—”
“‘Solo.’ I know. I’ve got copies on file,” she said, not admitting that she’d found his sister’s wry outlook on single life interesting and amusing. “But most of the advice she gave was about a single person’s love life.”
“Ironic, wouldn’t you say?” Matt said, walking to the far side of the room and shaking his head. Turning, he leaned his shoulders against a bookcase. “She gave out all this advice—the column was syndicated, picked up by other papers as well—and yet she winds up pregnant and nearly dies behind the wheel and no one even knows who the father of her kid is.”
“I’d call that more than ironic, I’d call it downright odd.” She clicked her pen several times, then motioned to the one empty chair on the far side of her desk. “You could have a seat.”
He eyed the chair just as the phone in her office rang.
“Excuse me.” Lifting the receiver, she said, “Dillinger.”
“Sorry to bother you, but Bob is on the line,” Stella said, still sounding nervous from her failed attempt to keep Matt McCafferty in line.
“I’ll talk with him.” She held up a hand toward Matt as Roberto Espinoza’s voice boomed over the wires. He was out at the Haines farm and was reporting that they’d found Dora, carrying her cat as she trudged through the snow in her housecoat and slippers, following a trail that cut through the woods to a steep slope where, she had explained to Detective Espinoza, her father had taken her sledding as a girl.
“A sad case,” Bob said on a sigh, then added that Dora was now on her way to St. James Hospital by ambulance. The paramedics who had examined her were concerned about exposure, frostbite and senility,