Cavanaugh Strong. Marie Ferrarella

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Cavanaugh Strong - Marie Ferrarella


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Duncan paused, studying her for a prolonged moment as a thought hit him. “You don’t think that Henry died of natural causes, do you?” he guessed.

      Noelle pressed her lips together. She still wasn’t in control of this subject and she didn’t want to say things that put her in a vulnerable position. Devoid of vanity, she still liked being perceived as generally being on top of things, not someone who allowed their imagination to run wild.

      “Lucy said he was the picture of health,” she replied cautiously.

      “The problem with pictures is that you only see what’s on the surface. There could be things going on underneath that you have no idea about. Old people die. It’s what’s expected, what they do. Nobody lives forever, O’Banyon.”

      “Right,” she said, blowing out a frustrated breath. “It’s what’s expected,” she repeated. And that could just be the whole point, she realized. “So nobody thinks twice, nobody looks into it if an old man like Henry suddenly dies.” Impassioned, Noelle leaned forward, lowering her voice so that only Cavanaugh heard her. “What if Henry was in the pink of health? What if someone decided to ‘help’ him along?” she postulated. She knew how crazy this sounded—but he had asked. “What if someone killed Henry before his time?”

      “You mean like a mercy killing?”

      “Mercy killing usually involves terminal patients who are suffering. Lucy said that Henry wasn’t sick,” she reminded him.

      “If you feel that way, that your grandmother’s friend was murdered, why don’t you bring this to Homicide’s attention?” he asked.

      For a smart cop, he was missing the obvious, Noelle thought. “And get labeled as a troublemaker? I don’t think so.” She was cautious, even if she did explore all the options. “I need some kind of tangible proof before I say anything to anyone.”

      “If you want, I could bring it to Brennan’s attention,” he said, mentioning his older brother who was currently a detective in the department’s homicide division. “He owes me a favor—or two,” Duncan told her, thinking of an off-the-record surveillance detail he’d performed for his brother recently. That had ultimately brought down a notorious flesh trafficker and was still fresh in Brennan’s mind.

      “Why would you do that?” Noelle had never liked being in anyone’s debt. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she looked at him.

      “Because it’s obviously bothering you,” Duncan answered, then asked a question of his own. “Have you always been this suspicious, or do I rate some kind of special treatment?”

      Both, she thought. Out loud she said, “Let’s just say that I like being careful. A lot of people have disappointed me.”

      Her answer made him wonder things about her that couldn’t be answered in a sentence or two. Still waters really did run deep.

      “I’m not ‘a lot of people,’” Duncan pointed out.

      No, he certainly wasn’t. Not with those looks, she thought. And it was precisely those looks that had put her on high alert and her guard up.

      “I like to find things out for myself,” Noelle replied.

      “The only way I see that happening is if I wind up doing what I say I’m going to do—hand this over to Brennan—with no ulterior motive,” he added, thinking that might have occurred to her next.

      “I’m probably making a mountain out of a molehill.”

      “Possibly,” Duncan agreed. “But then again,” he went on quickly, before his partner could shut down the discussion, “you could be reacting to a gut feeling and in my opinion, gut feelings trump a great deal of schooling and logic.” He looked at her pointedly. “You can’t teach ‘gut feelings.’ It’s just something you have to be opened to.”

      “Wait, let me guess. Police Work 101?”

      He let the crack slide and gave her a serious answer. “More like a Cavanaugh credo.”

      For a second she’d forgotten that he came from a family that had more cops than most small towns. Taking a deep breath, Noelle lightened up.

      “I appreciate your support,” she told him and realized that she actually did. “But I’d like to ‘chew on this,’ as you called it, for a while before I ask you to follow through on it.” Because there might not be anything to all this, she didn’t want to really get him involved until she was sure.

      He shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he answered, adding, “Do what you have to do and then, if you feel that there’s anything there, get back to me. My offer to help you is still on the table.”

      She nodded, mentally withdrawing from the conversation. But just before she did, she glanced up at him and said, “Cavanaugh?”

      He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

      She inclined her head, as if she was almost embarrassed to say it, then murmured, “Thanks.”

      His grin was lopsided and she tried not to look at it for more than a single beat, because it did things to her, sparked a new kind of awareness.

      “Don’t mention it,” Duncan said.

      She probably would have been better off if she hadn’t, Noelle thought. That she had tendered her thanks left her open to his speculation and she didn’t like being pigeonholed.

      * * *

      Noelle bided her time. She waited until her partner finally took a trip to the vending machine to secure a little energy wrapped in silver foil a couple of hours later.

      The minute Cavanaugh was clear of the squad room, she pushed aside the files she’d been inputting and called her grandmother.

      The woman picked up her phone on the second ring. “Hello?”

      “Lucy, it’s me, Noelle. How are you doing?” she asked, wanting to check on her grandmother’s state of mind before she asked her anything else.

      “Fine, sweetheart. Life goes on, right?” Lucy asked with a note of cheerfulness. “Don’t worry about me.”

      “Comes with the territory, remember?” Noelle asked. “You taught me that.” And then she got down to the main reason for her call. “Listen, Lucy, remember when you told me about how healthy Henry was and that he’d gotten himself a life insurance policy?”

      “Yes?”

      She could hear the patient wariness in Lucy’s voice, as if her grandmother was waiting for a shoe to fall. “I asked you who he left his money to and you never got around to telling me.”

      Lucy laughed shortly. “There’s a reason for that,” she anwered. “I don’t know. He never told me.”

      “You didn’t ask?” Noelle asked incredulously. Was everyone devoid of curiosity? Or did she just have a double dose of it?

      She was surprised by her grandmother’s tone. “I had more important things on my mind than asking questions about such foolishness.”

      Noelle wasn’t ready to give up just yet. “Didn’t it strike you as odd that he’d do something like that at his age?”

      Lucy laughed again, this time there was no edge to the sound, only a flash of irony. “Honey, there were a lot of odd things about Henry.” And then she asked, “What are you getting at?”

      Noelle wasn’t ready to voice her suspicions just yet. Lucy had been through enough for the moment. She didn’t want to add the possibility of her friend being murdered for the insurance money until she was absolutely sure of it. If it turned out to be a wild theory, there was no point in getting Lucy upset.

      “I’m just filling out the picture for myself,” she told her grandmother.

      Lucy was sharp enough to quickly put the pieces together. “You don’t think that


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