Mission: Cavanaugh Baby. Marie Ferrarella
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“He’s usually a lot more talkative than that,” Sean told her, leaning in and making the comment sound somehow confidential. He took a fourth shot of the victim from yet another angle. “Aren’t you, Shane?”
“If you say so,” he responded carelessly as he squatted over the victim to take a closer look.
The terrier the officer was holding became agitated and started barking. The bark grew more aggressive. Shane rose, his expression reverting to the annoyed look he’d worn for the initial part of their exchange. “Can’t you get that dog out of here?”
“Not yet,” she answered, stroking the small canine. She leaned over and whispered something in its ear just before she reached into her pocket and took out one of the treats she kept with her at all times. Bribed, the dog calmed somewhat and stopped barking.
Still petting the animal, Ashley looked from the crime scene investigator to the detective. The latter hadn’t bothered to introduce himself. He’d gone straight to work and was treating her as if she were a suspect. Her eyes shifted back again. The more she compared the two, the more similarities she saw.
“Are you two related, by any chance?” she asked the older man, since he was definitely the friendlier one. “You kind of look alike.”
Sean laughed to himself as he went on working. “Thank you, Officer. I’m sure Shane thinks of himself as the better looking one.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied both men again, this time very carefully. They had the same cheekbones, the same strong jaws and the same eye color, she realized. Most likely, when he was younger, the crime scene investigator had probably had the same color hair as the detective.
“He’s your son,” she concluded.
“On good days,” Sean acknowledged with a nod. “On bad days, he’s his mother’s.”
His son hadn’t given her his name. He was somewhat surprised at the omission. Had something caught Shane’s attention, something that made him forget to follow the usual procedure? “You didn’t tell her who you are?” Sean asked his son.
It was Ashley who answered him, shaking her head. “He went straight to questioning me,” she told Sean. “Said something about the first one on the scene being a good suspect for the murder.”
Sean glanced at his son. His expression was hard to read.
“Be gentle with him,” Sean told the young officer. He winked at her, then picked up his case. He began to head toward the back of the apartment and the victim’s bedroom. “This is his first murder, too.”
That might explain why he was so stiff, Ashley thought. Still holding the terrier in her arms, she turned toward the investigator’s son. “Will you be needing me, Detective Cavanaugh?”
The sun was finally pushing its way into the apartment through the rear sliding-glass doors, lighting the corners of the room that had previously been hidden in the shadows.
It also seemed to weave itself through the petite officer’s red hair, giving it highlights and making it shine alluringly. Catching his attention, it caused Shane’s train of thought to halt abruptly.
Beautiful women always caught his attention, and whatever else this woman was, she was definitely beautiful.
“What?” he asked, realizing that she’d said something and was waiting for an answer. Preoccupied, he didn’t have a clue as to what she’d just asked.
“Will you be needing me?” she repeated, then added, “Any further?”
Ashley had lost her train of thought because the detective was looking at her rather intently, as if he was weighing something.
It took effort for her not to shift uncomfortably.
“You have a card on you, Officer?” he finally asked, his eyes holding hers. “You never know when that need might come up.”
She knew she had to be misinterpreting his words, but the last part sounded much too personal, almost intimate. She could feel her cheeks warming, turning a different shade than they’d been just a moment ago. He’d worded his explanation just ambiguously enough to make it sound as if he might want her for something other than verbal input.
Not for the first time, she cursed her fair complexion. It was a dead giveaway.
Ashley forced herself to calm down and regain control over at least her outward appearance.
This one, she decided, fancied himself a ladies’ man, someone who probably wasn’t accustomed to being refused. Taking a card with her name on it out of her pocket, she handed it to him and answered, “No, I guess you just never do.”
Turning on her heel, she started for the door.
“You taking that dog to the shelter?” he called out after her.
He honestly didn’t know why he’d asked that. He really didn’t care where the animal went, as long as it didn’t run through the crime scene again.
“Why?” she asked, slipping a shielding hand around the terrier as if to silently communicate to the animal that it had no reason to fear anything as long as it was under her protection. “You want to question him later and rule him out as a suspect, too?”
The woman’s feisty attitude intrigued him even as it annoyed him. “I want to tie up all the ends I can in my report. That includes where the dog was relocated. Now can I put down that he was taken to the animal shelter where he can be found until the city disposes of him.”
He’d used the phrase to cover all bases—if the dog went on to be adopted by someone looking for a pet, it was considered to be one method of “disposal.” But even so, she didn’t care for the detective’s cold, detached manner.
“You can put down anything you want, Detective Cavanaugh. But if you must know, I’ll be taking the dog home with me when my shift is over.” It was a spur of the moment decision on her part and it wasn’t exactly according to the rules—but that was how she got the other two dogs she currently shared her house with. Animal Control’s rules were slightly bendable, allowing her some leeway.
The way there apparently wasn’t in the main division, she observed.
Shane looked from the dog in her arms to her. “Why would you do that?”
* * *
Ashley continued to pet the dog as she spoke. “Because he’s been traumatized enough for one day, and I thought he could do with calm, tranquil surroundings for a while. He can’t receive that sort of attention if I take him to Animal Control. We don’t have enough personnel available for that.”
Shane looked at her skeptically. He didn’t know what to make of this woman. Was she some PETA-type radical in uniform, or just a pushover—at least where animals were concerned?
“Isn’t giving him individualized care a little over the top?” he asked.
Ashley lifted her chin defiantly. “It shouldn’t be,” she informed him.
Shane laughed shortly. “Easy to see why the dog likes you so much.”
“Why?” she asked, curious about the kind of reasoning he was using—and bracing herself for the worst.
Shane assumed that would be crystal clear to her. Was she fishing for a compliment? “Because you’re taking his side, speaking up for him.”
Maybe she was taking sides with the dog, but there was something about this detective that made her want to instantly take the opposite side of whatever he said.
“I just balance out the people who get off on kicking dogs,” she replied simply.
The expression on his face shifted to one of amusement. “Are you a crusader, Officer St. James?”
She squared her shoulders, subconsciously bracing for